A Shroud of Leaves Page 6

  Yours sincerely,

  E. Masters

  7

  Late afternoon, Tuesday 19th March, this year

  Chorleigh House, Fairfield, New Forest

  By the afternoon, Sage had bagged up and logged the remaining leaves with the help of one of the forensic technicians. DCI Lenham had reported back that his superiors had officially ordered him to reinvestigate Lara Black’s disappearance alongside the death of River Sloane. They weren’t officially assuming a link between the two cases but the coincidence of the location and Alistair Chorleigh’s presence couldn’t be ignored. The press had also made the connection between two young women, both blonde and of a similar age and build, who disappeared or died at Chorleigh House. When Sage watched the news on PC Stewart’s tablet, DCI Lenham confirmed River’s identity but wouldn’t be drawn on whether the cases were linked.

  ‘Well, he won’t, will he?’ said Stewart. ‘He spent so much time saying she was just a runaway.’ The police appealed for anyone who had seen a car in the area between midnight and six a.m. to come forward, and Lenham asked if Lara could contact them, in confidence. Sage decided to head towards the barrows to look for Trent.

  She found him on top of the complete earthwork, Hound Butt. It was covered in shorter grass than the surrounding scrub. The middle was lower, as if an internal structure had collapsed.

  ‘This is amazing,’ he said, as she joined him. ‘It looks like someone dug the whole thing out but they didn’t put it all back.’

  ‘Maybe there was a cavity inside that they filled in?’ she suggested.

  Trent brushed the grass aside from the edge of a stone. ‘Maybe. You found some pottery from the grave? Perhaps it came from here.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not recently – I think it went in when they built the tennis court. It’s not Victorian, it’s less refined clay. There were fragments of old bone under the grass, too, which could be animal. Perhaps there was a settlement in this area.’ She looked towards the other earthwork. It was taller, the slope steeper, the cut edge abruptly lined with stone. The whole thing was dense with bushes and brambles; it would be difficult to get up there. ‘Should I concentrate on the leaves?’

  ‘They will go into refrigeration when we take them to the lab, they can wait. I don’t know how long we have to search the grounds and Lenham wants us to rule out a burial in 1992.’

  ‘The building in the woods?’

  ‘I think it’s too far back from the road to be a garage; it looks like a stable or workshop. It might have a concrete floor which would be of interest if it went down around 1992 – maybe Lara Black is buried underneath it. We have ground-penetrating radar equipment back at the office. We could have a look underneath with GPR and a metal detector tomorrow. It’s taped off; the police are advising the building looks dangerously unstable. Unstable stable – funny, huh?’

  ‘Hilarious. So, what do I do while we wait?’

  ‘We have to check with the pathologist so she can ask any relevant questions. It’s a good learning experience for you, too.’

  ‘Do you normally go? To talk to the pathologist, I mean.’

  He shook his head. ‘Not always, not unless the remains are scattered or skeletonised. But this case is very unusual, the grave cut and fill is puzzling us. Why bury someone if you want them to be found?’ He managed a wry smile. ‘They never ask much, they just like to make sure an archaeologist is consulted. The defence teams check that all the experts have been questioned.’ He scrambled down the end of the slope and halfway up the next one, crushing gorse and brambles underfoot.

  She climbed down and walked around to look up at him. The barrow terminated at a stone wall set upright in the soil, covered with mosses and lichens. At the base was the remains of a puddle, almost a pond, sticky with mud. ‘We could probably get a good look inside the barrow from here if we had a ladder. What can you see from up there?’

  He shaded his eyes with one hand as he looked back into the woodland. ‘A lot of trees, some evergreen. I can just see the top of the wooden building to the east – there’s a clear space covered in leaves at this end. I suppose it could be the roof we saw from the drone.’ He kicked a bramble aside. ‘These thorns are nasty. I don’t suppose the owner would let us clear the scrub to have a proper look at the barrows?’

  ‘I doubt if he’ll be co-operative seeing as he was dragged off by the police and interrogated all night. Can we do it anyway?’

  Trent struggled forward, crushing a couple of ferns until he found a clear spot on the edge of the stone wall. ‘Possibly. There’s some sort of slab underfoot.’ He leaned over to look at the slot at the top. ‘I could get a look in there, I think. Maybe I can argue we need to explore all of it to look for Lara Black. You get off to the mortuary, I’ll head back to the grave.’

  Sage took a deep breath. ‘What should I watch out for at the mortuary?’

  He looked down at her. ‘Check that the pathologist doesn’t have any questions for us. Mention everything we found, the leaves, the old pottery and bone, anything that gives context. We could be asked to comment in court about anything we’ve seen.’ He grinned. ‘Don’t look so worried. We’re hardly ever called to be witnesses. We’re just covering the police’s arses, establishing the provenance of everything the prosecution might use as evidence.’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked at where he was balanced on the top of the slabs of stone. ‘If that’s been excavated out it could be unsupported. So – speaking as an archaeologist, now – you need to come down and do your investigation on terra firma.’

  He smiled at her. ‘Coming, Mum.’ He walked down the slope, jumped the last couple of feet and landed in the soil and leaf mould with a squelching sound.

  Sage stepped back, feeling the earth pull at the soles of her boots. ‘It’s wet, isn’t it?’

  ‘It’s a bit boggy this side. There’s a stream coming out between the slabs. It looks like some sort of spring; maybe it’s built around a natural water feature.’ Trent led the way around the side. Water seeped down an algae-covered mossy edge between the slabs.

  Her interest was caught. ‘It could be some sort of cistern, or a well head. Which would be very unusual, especially if it’s Bronze Age. Or it could just be the remains of an excavated barrow.’

  ‘I don’t think so. It’s on a slightly different alignment from the big one. I’ll be back in the tent in a minute.’

  Sage glanced up at the clouds overhead. ‘How long will they leave it up?’ Rain had periodically spattered the tent all morning in spite of intermittent sunshine.

  ‘A few days. We may see different layers as it dries out and it stops the press taking their pictures before we fill it back in.’ Trent picked up his rucksack. ‘I’ll carry on with the site survey. You can go home from the mortuary if you like, we’ll be losing the light by the time you finish.’

  * * *

  Sage and Trent packed the boxes of evidence bags into her car. She was a little nervous about seeing the body again, but she was curious about what happened. Perhaps Megan was going to find the reason for the murder.

  Trent wedged in the last box of bagged samples and she shut the boot of her car.

  ‘I’ll let you know when I’m finished,’ Sage said.

  ‘Great. I’m going to look for any evidence left by the person who made those footprints leading to and from the grave.’

  She took a deep breath, pulled her shoulders back. ‘OK. Have you found a good print yet?’

  ‘A couple of bits of textured trainer. The size is about a ten. The ground’s not wet enough to get all the edges but we’ve preserved what we can. The mortuary is at the back of the hospital; there’s dedicated parking. Just leave your badge in the window so you don’t get wheel-clamped. Oh, and your friend is there. That anthropologist guy Lenham was talking about.’

  ‘Felix? He got here fast.’ The thought lightened her nerves immediately.

  ‘I think Lara Black’s family called him in when they heard about River.’
Trent smiled, but he didn’t look amused. ‘Don’t worry about the mortuary. Tell yourself it’s just a body, another specimen.’

  ‘I’ll get used to it, will I?’ she said wryly.

  His smile was twisted. ‘No, not really. Which is why I’m making you go.’

  * * *

  It took Sage most of an hour to drive to the hospital and park, and the light was fading. The mortuary was rather as she had expected: lots of gleaming stainless steel. She was directed to a conference room. A tall man with longish hair was leaning over a table. He was staring at a spread of A4 printed sheets of the grave site.

  ‘Felix!’ It was lovely to see him. He swept her into a hug.

  ‘Sage. It’s great to see you, even if it is under these rather horrible circumstances.’ He let go, and stared down at her with his intense green eyes. ‘How are Nick and the baby?’

  She hesitated before she answered. ‘Nick’s fine. Max is nearly one, he’s great. We’re both staying with my mother in Winchester this week. How have you been?’

  Felix lifted an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. ‘I’m OK.’

  ‘You got here quick.’

  He glanced up. ‘I was already here. Lara Black’s family called me.’

  ‘DCI Lenham said you were involved in the original investigation.’

  He nodded. ‘Many years ago. There are some similarities with the present murder.’

  ‘Like?’ Sage turned one of the pictures around. ‘They never found a grave.’

  ‘River was almost sixteen,’ he said, ‘Lara was only a few months older. They looked alike: fair-haired, short, slight. They were both last seen in the area of Chorleigh House. Alistair Chorleigh was seen talking to Lara at the bus stop, then River was buried in his garden. They even shared some interest in animal rights.’

  ‘I thought there were some unlikely coincidences.’

  ‘I’ve never felt justice was served for Lara. We never heard from her again, which is unusual in such a young girl. Most runaways turn up somewhere, either paying taxes or getting benefits. Her family have never given up trying to find out – we’ve kept in contact.’

  ‘Heartbreaking for them.’

  ‘Yes. I became involved back then as I was already here, looking into a series of attacks on animals. They looked ritualistic and I had some experience of investigating sacrifices in my studies.’ He shuffled the papers into a neat pile. ‘We thought it was possible that someone, probably male, could have escalated from cattle and ponies to a human victim. I predicted that might happen in my report. The attacks were frenzied, need-driven, compulsive. I didn’t think the attacker would just stop.’

  Sage looked up at Felix. ‘When did the animal attacks end?’

  ‘They stopped right after Lara disappeared, which suggested the abuser could have moved to a human victim. I think we owe it to the victim and her family to find her body, if possible.’

  ‘It must have been hard for Lara’s parents.’

  ‘It got worse. The press went to town on Lara’s family and friends, but no one stood out in the investigation. She was interested in environmental activism and ecology, and she was wild camping on land owned by a local witchcraft group, all of which made headlines. She protested road-building at Twyford Down and was arrested several times. She made a claim of assault against two security officers there, and was arrested trying to lead a spellcasting against the construction company.’ He sat down. ‘We don’t even know whether Lara is dead. But twenty-seven years later we have to assume she is, which brings us back to the last person seen talking to her – Alistair Chorleigh.’

  Sage sat opposite him. ‘But to completely disappear at that age – there must have been a presumption of death at the time.’

  He nodded. ‘The fact that she left her bag at the bus stop was highly suspicious, I felt. The police argued she could have got into a car, been abducted or run away with a friend. She left her bus pass, bank card, cash, make-up, purse.’ He shrugged. ‘They also found her camera case a mile away, through the forest, nowhere near the road. If she went that way, why didn’t she take her other things?’

  Sage stood back from the pages of images, looking for something that would make sense. ‘Police. You mean DCI Lenham.’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Lenham at the time. He didn’t like me much.’

  ‘I’m not sure he likes you now,’ she said, remembering his expression when he spoke about Felix.

  He smiled down at her. She liked the way the skin around his green eyes crinkled, as though he smiled a lot. She noticed more grey in his hair than there had been last year, when he came between her and a mentally ill man, when he administered first aid to Nick and saved his life.

  ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘there was once a famous coven of witches in the New Forest. Lara was connected to some well-known people.’

  ‘OK.’ Sage couldn’t help the scepticism reaching her voice.

  He smiled again but carried on. ‘There are still groups who are descended from the coven. It’s a nature cult but several members are still politically involved in environmental issues. They have already contacted the police offering to help because they heard a dead girl had been found and thought of Lara. Here’s another similarity for you – River was a supporter of several organisations that campaign against animal testing on social media.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I live with a teenager who is a computing wizard.’

  Sage laughed, a little nervously. ‘And how did the police respond to the offer of help from a coven of witches?’

  ‘Needless to say, they weren’t interested in talking to a group of New Age pagan hippies and weirdos – their words, not mine – no matter how established their group is.’ He tidied up the papers and put them back in a folder. ‘But if the coven knew Lara, the police need someone to interview them about River. They don’t expect the coven will be able to add anything to the inquiry, so they’re sending me to do it. Do you want to come?’

  ‘I would, but I have to talk to the pathologist first.’

  Her face must have given away her concern as he said, ‘Shall I come in with you?’

  ‘Does that make me pathetic?’

  He gave a little cough of laughter. ‘No one finds it easy, I promise you. Even the pathologists don’t like working with kids. I ought to have a look at the body anyway; there appears to be some ritual associated with the burial. I’ve been asked to look for ceremonial or psychological features they can search the databases for. The interviews can wait until tomorrow.’

  Sage pushed the door open a few inches. ‘I’m just worried I’ll throw up or faint,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Maybe you will. But you won’t die.’

  She frowned at him. ‘Not helpful.’

  ‘I mean it. A child is dead, and others may follow. Whatever answers you can give the pathologist will add to the evidence suggesting who did this. Even if it’s uncomfortable for us, we might be able to give another perspective, ask the right question.’

  ‘It must be really annoying for your friends. Always being right.’

  He laughed. ‘I live with a teenager. I’m never right.’

  Any humour faded as she stepped into the inner room. The naked girl had been laid out on a metal table and Megan was photographing her, snapping shots from her feet up. It seemed wrong, voyeuristic, even. An older man made notes.

  ‘Ah. Afternoon, Sage.’

  ‘Hi, Megan. I’m guessing you’ve met Professor Guichard?’

  ‘We passed in the corridor.’

  Felix stepped forward. ‘Felix, social anthropology.’

  ‘Your reputation precedes you, Felix. I’m Megan and this is my colleague, Warren. I don’t need you two for the internal post-mortem but I have a few questions about the burial.’ She smiled as Sage exhaled with a grateful whoosh.

  Sage could see purple and red marks on the slight body. The girl looked like she’d been beaten from head to toe. They didn’t all look post-morte
m as she’d thought at first, but she waited for Megan to confirm it. ‘What can I do?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Megan said, scribbling a few notes. ‘Your presence is mostly for the prosecution in case they get questioned by the defence about why the scene wasn’t examined fully by an archaeologist. We only call a forensic archaeologist in about ten, twenty per cent of cases.’

  ‘Why did you call on us for this one – because of the unusual burial?’ Sage looked away from the swollen face.

  ‘Yes, the grave site was so atypical I thought we should have an expert on excavation and burial behaviour,’ Megan said. ‘I don’t think we’ll need an anthropologist, but if you see anything, speak up.’ Felix nodded and she continued. ‘I’ll tell you what I see and if I have any inconsistencies, I might ask for your observations, Sage. The whole lot is recorded for the court. From now, then.’ She nodded to Warren, who pressed a button on the overhead recorder. ‘Present, Dr Megan Levy, pathologist. With Dr Sage Westfield, forensic archaeology, and Professor Felix Guichard, social anthropology. Also Warren Tindall, assistant pathologist.’

  She pointed to the girl’s neck and Warren took a photograph, the flash bouncing off the white walls and stainless-steel table. ‘The body is of a well-nourished female whose appearance is consistent with an age of fifteen years and nine months, her formal identification as River Sloane was confirmed by fingerprint comparison, pending DNA. The body was discovered by a dog in the garden of—Sage?’

  ‘Chorleigh House, Fairfield Road.’