Perhaps it was just his imagination, but beneath the clinical, chemical smell of the morgue lingered the earthy scent of a fresh grave. The bodies were lying on several stainless steel slabs behind the two pathologists, covered by regulation green sheets. Cass had no desire to see the mutilated bodies; he didn’t need to – he could feel their hold on him inside. They weren’t people any more, merely physical evidence. ‘Jasmine Green wasn’t alone with her brain injuries.’ Eagleton rummaged on his desk and then held up some slides. ‘You want to see?’ ‘Will I understand them?’ Cass asked. ‘Probably not.’ ‘Then let’s not bother. The others have the same lesions?’ ‘Yes. There’s no sign of any disease that I can find, but they all share similar damage. Angie Lane was harder to match because she banged her head on the corner of the work surface on the way down, so she’d already sustained some head trauma.’ ‘Did you find anything else that links them? Drugs maybe?’ Armstrong asked.
