Blood Loss

a sleeve. His flat face, small features, and almond-shaped eyes, typical of a child with Down’s syndrome, gave nothing away but his voice was aggrieved. He was nearly as tall as his father and he looked him straight in the eye. ‘You promised, Dad.’
Paton grabbed his car keys. ‘I know, son, but this is important. I’ll take you to Auntie Ursula’s instead and Mum will pick you up when she finishes work.’ Tommy might be fifteen but he couldn’t be left alone.
To Paton’s relief, Tommy nodded. He was a nice-natured boy and he understood his dad had important work to do.
The cold air pinched Paton’s cheeks as they rushed to the car outside. Perthshire in Scotland always seemed much colder compared to Weymouth in the south of England where he grew up. ‘Get in the back please, Tommy. We need to collect Cheryl.’ Ten minutes later Paton pulled up at the kerb and Detective Constable Cheryl Campbell scrambled in.
‘Hi, boss. Any more info?’ She clipped her seat belt on quickly as he accelerated away. He did have more information, but he couldn’t tell her yet.
‘Hello, DC Cheryl.’
She swivelled in her seat to look behind her.
‘Tommy! I didn’t realise you were with us.’ She smiled at the boy then glanced across at Paton with her eyebrows raised.
Tommy leaned forward and patted her shoulder. ‘I’m coming to work with you.’
His round face was creased into a wide smile and his thick tongue muffled his speech.
‘Sorry. Not today, Plodders.’ Paton flashed Tommy a quick smile, using the nickname he’d earned as a small boy when he’d insisted on being called PC Plod. ‘I’m dropping you at Auntie Ursula’s like we agreed. We’ll do some investigating another day. Perhaps we can track down the thief who’s been raiding the biscuit jar.’
‘Oh, Dad, I know it was you.’ Tommy laughed and sat back in his seat. ‘He ate all the Fox’s Crunch Creams again,’ Tommy told Cheryl. ‘Mum will be cross.’
‘How is your mum?’
Paton glanced sideways at Cheryl. She knew about Wendy’s bouts of depression which confined her to bed for a week or two and sometimes longer. In fact, his whole team knew but he wasn’t keen on discussing it in front of Tommy, or at all for that matter. Paton’s private life was just that. Private. He couldn’t have people feeling sorry for him and thinking he couldn’t do his job properly. They got by… just, although it was difficult at times.
‘Mum’s upset. She found three grey hairs the other day,’ Tommy said with a small shake of his head.
Cheryl grinned.
‘I wish I could come to work there again. Where are you and Cheryl going, Dad?’
Paton looked at his son in the rear-view mirror and felt a rush of affection. Tommy had his heart set on being a detective like his father and Grandfather and had recently been given the opportunity of two weeks’ work experience in the police station staff canteen. He was devastated when it finished. He’d even helped solve a problem case for Paton, albeit unwittingly.
‘Will you need your handcuffs? Is someone stealing again?’ Tommy pulled a plastic set of cuffs from his pocket. ‘You can borrow mine if you’ve forgotten yours.’ He dangled them between the front seats.
‘I won’t, but thanks for the offer.’ Paton stopped outside his sister’s house. ‘Come on, out you get. Maybe Mum will buy you fish and chips when she finishes work.’ Paton’s stomach growled at the thought of food and he sighed. ‘Tell her I’ll grab a sandwich somewhere.’
A few flakes of snow landed like dandruff on Paton’s grey overcoat as he walked Tommy to the house before hurrying back to the car. He flicked the wipers on and leaned forward, peering through the fine snow to the road ahead.
‘Right, Cheryl. This is what we’ve got. At 3.20pm a family went into the local police station and said they’d discovered a body at the holiday cabin they’d rented. It was the sixteen year old son who found the victim – stabbed apparently. The father confirmed it. The wife and daughter didn’t see anything. Full statements and DNA samples are being taken and their clothing kept for testing. They had other stuff with them to change into, luckily. I wouldn’t have fancied our chances of finding a clothes shop to fit them all out around here.’
‘Poor kid. In fact, poor family. This will be one holiday they’ll never forget. Do we know who the cabin belongs to?’ Cheryl asked. ‘They might know the victim.’
‘Not yet. Sergeant Wallis is looking into it. The CSI team and pathologist are on their way.’ In fact, they might be there already.
A line of vehicles, parked precariously up a steep grass verge, appeared up ahead. Paton stopped to let Cheryl out of the car then pulled in behind them. The car tilted and the hedge scratched the wing mirror. The lane was too narrow for two cars to pass each other.
He climbed awkwardly out of the car, trying not to scrape the door on the ground. ‘Looks like they’ve sealed off the track to the cabin.’ Paton could see a figure bent over, taking pictures of tyre marks.
Blue police tape fluttered across a rutted road to the right and three people, hunched in thick coats, stamped their feet nearby. ‘Bloody press,’ Paton muttered. ‘Come to feast while the body’s still warm. Who tipped them off?’
They rushed forward as Paton and Cheryl walked towards the police officer guarding the outer cordon.
‘Can you tell us what happened?’ a man asked, a watery drip wobbling under his red nose. He grabbed a tissue from his pocket and rubbed it away.
‘Do we know who the victim is?’ A woman in a fur-trimmed hood stood in front of Paton, notebook at the ready, her fingers blue with cold.
‘You probably know more than me at this stage. Excuse me,’ Paton said. Stepping around her, he strode away with Cheryl following.
They gave their names to the officer who wrote them in the crime scene log. Behind