The Predators

Copyright © 2023 Tony Forder The right of Tony Forder to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. First published in 2023 by Spare Nib Books Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. [email protected] Also by Tony J ForderThe DI Bliss SeriesBad to the BoneThe Scent of GuiltIf Fear WinsThe Reach of ShadowsThe Death of JusticeEndless Silent ScreamSlow SlicingBliss UncoveredThe Autumn TreeDarker Days to ComeThe Lightning RodStandalonesFifteen CoffinsDegrees of DarknessThe Mike Lynch SeriesScream Blue MurderCold Winter SunThe DS Chase SeriesThe Huntsmen Psychopaths are social predators, and like all predators, they are looking for feeding grounds. Wherever you get power, prestige, and money, you will find them.—Robert D. Hare This book is dedicated to Dorothy Laney, Kath Middleton, and Lynda Checkley, whose eagle eyes and editorial bent have steered me well for many books now. I really don’t know how I managed without them before they started beta reading my work. ONEIN DETECTIVE SERGEANT ROYSTON Chase’s opinion, there were three different kinds of dicks in the world. Dicks who behave like arseholes. Arseholes who behave like dicks. And the third – and by far the most despicable of the trio – the kind of dick that forces you to leave the warmth and comfort of your own home to attend a scene of crime on your day off when the weather is doing its best to break the spirit of even the most enthusiastic abominable snowman. Today, Superintendent Waddington was that dick.The storm blew in hard across Cherhill Down. Thick clumps of snow the size of small rocks obscured vision beyond a dozen yards or so. A dense copse provided some respite at least, its skeletal branches garbed in white winter apparel. The detective leaned into a boisterous flurry as he picked his way between the scattering of trees, head down, gloved hands rammed deep into the pockets of his fleece-lined jacket. He’d pulled the hood up and drawn it tight around his face the moment he stepped out of his car, not caring if he looked like Kenny from South Park. His thoughts were focussed more on his reason for being out in such unpleasant weather than the freezing wind doing its damnedest to force a brass monkey to strike out in search of a welder.Aristotle once suggested that to appreciate the beauty of a snowflake, it was necessary to stand out in the cold. Chase wondered if the Greek philosopher had ever frozen his arse off on a Wiltshire hillside in a blizzard prior to summoning up that particular piece of free-thinking bullshit.Following a path denoted by a series of green flags whose tall poles strained beneath the force of the squall, Chase entered the area with caution. He didn’t want to stumble blindly outside the permitted boundary lines. Other than the route in and out and the scene itself, there was clearly an awful lot of the thicket yet to be searched.Scott Buchan, the crime scene manager, waited for him beneath a wide awning attached to a crime scene tent. The canopy was three-sided, shielding those who ventured inside from the worst of the weather. Buchan had also snuggled into a heavy winter jacket, which he wore over his forensic suit, its hood pulled down, an elasticated cap wrapped over his head. He stood alongside DC Claire Laney, Chase’s colleague. The CSI looked up at his approach, face grim and flushed the colour of raw liver from the biting chill.‘Don’t tell me,’ Chase said through chattering teeth. ‘Dog walker discovered the body, yes? They’re a hardy bunch.’‘Oddly enough, no.’ Buchan’s voice was cultured, with a vague Scottish lilt. ‘A soldier on leave who’d set out to yomp a small part of the trail came into the wood to escape the worst of the snowstorm, and pretty much stumbled over our corpsicle.’Chase flashed him a questioning frown.Buchan nodded, pushing back his thick-rimmed spectacles. ‘Virtually frozen solid, the poor wee thing. My guess is she’d started thawing out as the daily temperatures rose, but then last night’s frost and now this sorry mess began covering her up and freezing her again.’‘I won’t bother asking for an ETD.’‘I wouldn’t if I were you,’ Laney said curtly as she stamped her feet to keep her circulation flowing. ‘Our esteemed SOCO here reacts like a bit of a twonk when you ask stupid questions.’The crime scene manager greeted this with a grunt and a shake of the head. ‘I’m sorry, but as I told you not five minutes ago, an estimated time of death is a little out of the question given the circumstances. This bonnie lass is going to take a couple of days to reach the point where I can do anything with her. We are looking at her body having been here several weeks, possibly a month or two.’‘Cause of death is suspicious, though, right?’ Chase observed. ‘Otherwise neither me or DC Laney would be here.’‘Aye. My initial examination suggests she was beaten and perhaps strangled. Judging by the position in which she was found, and the disarray of her clothing, I think it’s likely she was also sexually abused. I wouldn’t want to pre-judge in what order those three things occurred. Frankly, given her condition, it’s hard to say with any degree of confidence what happened here at all.’Chase exhaled with a groan, filling the space between them with a cloud of misty breath. ‘Shit! I don’t suppose there’s any chance of sperm surviving, is there?’‘Not enough to swallow,’ Laney muttered.Ignoring the comment, Buchan ran a hand across his unshaven