Jim moved round the table to lift Sam’s right arm.
‘The flesh was his own, bitten from his right forearm. By the looks of it, I’d say he managed three or four mouthfuls before he gave up.’
Helen closed her eyes – the horror of Sam’s last days sinking in – then forced herself to open them again. Jim held Sam’s ravaged forearm up for her to get a good look, then gently laid it down again.
‘I would estimate he hadn’t eaten properly or taken in liquid for at least two weeks, probably more. His body would have been living off fat reserves during that time, and when they ran out, it would have started to leach nutrients from his internal organs. He was a whisker away from total organ failure when he was killed. From what I’ve been told about the girl’s medical state, she was going the same way. Another few days and they both would have been dead of natural causes.’
Jim paused once more, this time to ferret through his paperwork.
‘Bloods. What you’d expect from someone suffering extreme dehydration on a fast track to organ failure. The only unusual constituent was trace elements of benzodiazepine. I expect you’ll also find traces in her blood and stronger traces in their waste.’
Helen nodded – forensics had already confirmed traces of the powerful sedative in the excreta recovered from the diving pool. Helen suppressed her growing anxiety, but this was all heading one way now. Jim carried on for another ten minutes, then Helen called time on it. She had all she needed.
Against all the odds, Amy’s story was starting to stack up. Forensics had found particles of rope near a corner of the pool, tallying with the use of a rope ladder as Amy’s means of escape. Furthermore, their recovered clothes had deep soil stains on them, suggesting Amy and Sam could have been dragged from a vehicle across open ground to the abandoned pool. Could a woman have dragged Sam by herself – all twelve stone of him – or would she have needed an accomplice?
As she headed back to Southampton Central, Helen knew this would consume her totally from now on. She would not rest until she had solved this strange crime. Entering the incident room, she was pleased to see that Mark was already cracking the whip. There were numerous practical and bureaucratic issues that could stymie a major investigation like this and Helen needed things to run like clockwork. Mark was the classic DS – an abrasive but effective instrument – adept at making everyone row in the same direction. He’d rounded up a good team of officers – DCs Bridges, Grounds, Sanderson, McAndrew – in addition to support staff; already the investigation was coming to life in front of her eyes. Mark hurried over when he saw her enter.