Settled Blood by Mari Hannah

insisted on
Daniels’ signature in the log he was holding out to her. She led him out of earshot, explaining why she wanted Amy’s clothing brought to the family rather than the other way round. His
office on the floor below was a sterile, window-less room, wedged between two noisy offices on either side, constantly disturbed by the sound of foot traffic – not to mention laughter and
chatter from the busy corridor beyond. It had sickly green paintwork and burns on the lino where staff had extinguished cigarettes before the ban on smoking was introduced.
    ‘. . . hardly conducive to the solemn occasion facing them now, is it?’
    ‘I agree.’ He pointed at the log, indicating where she should sign it. ‘But it’s my neck on the line if any or part of this evidence goes missing.’
    ‘It won’t, I promise you. I don’t blame you for covering your back. In your position, I’d have done the same. Only difference is, I would have done it with more
sensitivity.’Daniels scribbled her name, timing and dating her entry. She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘Now piss off and let me do my job!’
    Shutting the log, the exhibits officer quickly left the room. The DCI waited for him to shut the door. She nodded in Gormley’s direction, indicating her readiness to begin. He in turn had
a quiet word with Mr Grainger, who seemed reluctant to leave his wife, even for a second. Daniels stepped forward, reassuring him that the procedure wouldn’t take long. Eventually, he let go
of his wife’s hand and moved gingerly towards the evidence box.
    Before opening it, Daniels suggested quietly that he take his wife to see her GP.
    Mr Grainger nodded. ‘Just as soon as we get Amy home. There are arrangements to be taken care of, lots of people to contact, her grandparents of course . . .’ He hesitated, pained by
thoughts of what he might say to them. ‘Then there’s her godparents, her friends . . .’ He looked at Daniels. ‘Do you think Bardgett are the best funeral directors? I need
to choose a suitable casket. And flowers . . . white lilies . . . Amy loved lilies.’
    Daniels and Gormley exchanged a look.
    They both knew it might be a long time before the poor man could have his daughter back. An inquest would have to be opened and most probably adjourned. There could even be a further
post-mortem. Any defence lawyer worth his salt would ask for one. Daniels tried to find the words to convey that information without distressing Mr Grainger too much. He was fast picking up on her
reticence.
    At moments like these she wanted to run away and hide.
    ‘It isn’t possible for you to take Amy home yet, I’m afraid.’ She scanned his face, making sure that what she had said was sinking in. ‘I know how difficult this is
for you to accept, but we can’t release her for burial until the coroner—’
    ‘She’s my daughter!’
    ‘I’m so sorry—’
    ‘You can’t keep her! Why would you want to?’ Mr Grainger choked back a sob and looked at his wife. She was staring blankly at the floor, too traumatized to react to the
discussion taking place just feet away. He gave a resigned nod. ‘My apologies, Detective Inspector, I wasn’t thinking.’
    ‘I promise I’ll keep you informed of developments as and when I can. And as soon as we’re done here, I’ll get someone to take you home.’
    Mr Grainger seemed to be ageing with every passing second. But he wasn’t done yet, Daniels could see. She braced herself for the question he almost couldn’t bring himself to ask.
    ‘How did she . . .?’ He didn’t finish.
    ‘We’ve carried out a post-mortem. We know exactly how Amy died . . .’ Daniels chose her words carefully. ‘I can tell you with certainty that she didn’t suffer.
There was evidence of a large amount of drugs in her system—’
    ‘No, I don’t accept that!’ He shook his head vigorously and lowered his voice so his wife wouldn’t hear him. ‘Amy would never take drugs. She was dead