Tony Hill u Carol Jordan 08 - Cross and Burn

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    ‘The reason for the similarities is that there’s a genetic relationship between these two people. What we call a familial relationship. A is the mother of B. Would you like to guess who A is?’
    He met Fielding’s level, triumphant gaze. ‘No.’
    ‘It’s Vanessa Hill. Your mother. And this is presumably you. Can you explain how your blood came to be on the cuff of Nadzieja Wilkowa’s jacket?’
    It was as if someone had punched him hard in the chest. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. Then the adrenalin rush of fear surged through him, switching his senses on full alert. His brain raced frantically, synapses firing crazily, rifling through his store of memories to find this woman. He knew he was innocent, so he knew the answer had to be in there somewhere.
    He had no idea how long had passed before Paula said gently, ‘Tony? Can you answer the question, please? Can you explain how your blood came to be —’
    His expression was stricken. ‘I’ve no idea,’ he said, his voice dry and tight.
    Fielding shook her head. ‘I’d have thought you could do better than that.’ She turned back to her folder.
    Before she could ask another question, Paula’s phone beeped. She glanced at the screen then showed it to Fielding, who nodded and got to her feet. ‘Interview suspended.’ Ushering Paula ahead of her, she left the room. Tony watched them go, feeling genuine fear for the first time since he’d arrived at Skenfrith Street.

    ‘Fuck,’ Fielding said as she closed the door behind her. ‘He’s got nothing. No rebuttal, no excuse, nothing. Now, let’s see what your pal Dr Myers has for us.’ The text from Dave Myers had simply said, Buy me a coffee. Seven minutes later Paula pulled in by the coffee stall that crouched under the North Stand of Bradfield Victoria’s premier league stadium. Dave liked meeting here; it reminded him of American cop shows, glossing their dull lives with a spurious glamour. Seeing her car, he stepped away from the counter carrying two coffees in a cardboard tray. He looked worryingly glum. His face fell further when Fielding climbed out of the passenger seat.
    He gave a wry smile and passed a coffee to each of the women. Paula leaned on the open driver’s door and peeled away a section of the lid and enjoyed the aroma of the spicy dark roast the Italian owner preferred. She had a feeling there wasn’t going to be much else to enjoy at this encounter.
    ‘Nice of you to offer my sergeant a coffee, Dr Myers.’
    ‘We go back a long way,’ Paula said.
    ‘So what do you have for us?’
    ‘That evidence bag you left us this morning – there was a phone in there, right?’
    ‘Yes. Presumably Bev’s,’ Paula said.
    ‘It is hers. We checked.’ He tugged at his soul patch. ‘There’s a partial thumbprint on the back of the phone.’ He took a folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket and handed it to Fielding. It was an enlarged photocopy of a fingermark, smudged down one side and slightly distorted where the thumb that made it had shifted slightly. ‘Because I know you’re in a hurry on this one, I gave it to my best fingerprint tech as a matter of urgency. She ran it through the AFIS database. Nothing came back from criminal records. But in Bradfield, we keep our own database of prints for elimination purposes. Serving police officers, CSIs, pathologists. And anybody else who regularly attends crime scenes or has contact with evidence.’
    Fielding looked visibly brighter. ‘I hope this is going where I think it is.’
    Paula’s response was markedly different. She snatched her emergency cigarette packet from the door pocket of the car and lit up.
    Dave grimaced as the smoke blew across his face. He half-turned away from Paula towards Fielding. ‘Her preliminary opinion is that the thumbprint on Bev’s phone could have come from Tony Hill.’
    ‘Could have?’ Fielding was clearly disappointed. ‘You can’t do better than that?’
    ‘It was a rush job. Obviously she’ll be looking at it again.’
    Paula’s chest was tight with fear. These days, there was always room for doubt with fingerprints. No CPS lawyer would give the thumbs-up to a case that rested solely on fingermarks. But as a consolidation, it was still rock-solid where juries were concerned. And would a jury be so wrong? It was unimaginable to her, but what else but guilt could explain DNA and fingerprint evidence?

    Tony had spent the half-hour of Paula and Fielding’s absence