Page 13 of In Too Deep

He kept it simple. Took in what was there. Left the rest.

Then something caught his eye. Low on the body. Ink. Small. Below the hip. A heart tattoo. With unique stitching throughout.

He logged it and stepped back. “Pathologist?”

“On her way,” Calder said, but he didn’t move. He lingered, eyes still on the water. Then, “You seen many like this, guv?”

“In water?”

“Dead.”

Harrison glanced back at him, taking in the stiffness in his shoulders, the way his grip tightened around his notebook.

“Enough.” Harrison tried very hard not to remember the last dead body he’d seen. This wasn’t the time nor the place to have that reaction. Not after what he’d done all over Chris’s things in the storage with another man. “You get used to the job. Not the sight.”

Calder gave a small nod, not fully convinced, but accepting it for what it was.

“You?” Harrison asked.

Calder shook his head. “Not like that.”

No. He wouldn’t have. Not here.

Harrison didn’t push it. There was no point. He brought them both back to the job instead and nodded to the cordon.

“Get me the finder. Exact position, timings. Where he was standing, what the dog did before he clocked it. I want it as it happened, not how it sounds after.”

Calder straightened a fraction, something to do, something to hold onto. “I’ll keep him exactly as confused as he was.”

“Good.”

There was almost a smile, before Calder turned and got moving, the hesitation gone, replaced with purpose. So Harrison returned his gaze to the river, watching the way the current slid past the body, steady and unbothered, catching against the reeds where the bank narrowed.

“Let’s get a tent up,” he called out. “I don’t want this open any longer than it has to be. We don’t want any media on this until it’s a must.”

One of the CSIs glanced up from the waterline. “Thought you might say that. We were enjoying the fresh air. We don’t get a lot of sun up here, sir.”

“Make the most of it while you can.”

After a faint huff of amusement, they were moving, poles going up, canvas following, the open scene drawing in on itself as the inner cordon took shape. Not long after, the pathologist arrived, gloves halfway on as she crossed the bank, eyes scanning the scene with quick, practised movements.

“DI Black?” she said.

“That’s right.”

“Runnalls.” She didn’t slow. “You’ve had a look?”

“Enough.”

“Good. Saves me the introductions.” She then ducked under the edge of the tent.

He followed to the boundary and stopped, letting her take the space. She crouched by the waterline, assessing the body without rushing it, her gaze moving from position to condition to what the river had done and what it hadn’t managed to hide.

“How long would you say she’s been in there?” Harrison asked.

“Straight in with the impossible question, huh?” She adjusted a section of hair away from the face, then glanced at him. “You Met, or just optimistic?”

“Former. Thought I’d start strong.”