And using her own logic of past, present or future she knew exactly where they should start.
‘We know that Jemima and our latest victim hadn’t met recently, so we can rule out present. Jemima was planning nothing untoward that we’re aware of, so that leaves only one direction.’
‘I’ll start digging into Jemima’s distant past and work forwards,’ Stacey said. ‘I’ve still got nothing on Isobel’s place of work or address, but I’ll keep at it.’
Kim nodded her agreement. Isobel’s husband was certainly someone she wanted to talk to.
Kim turned towards Dawson, who pre-empted her instruction.
‘That’ll be me on mispers again then?’ he said knowingly.
‘Yes, but only for an hour or two, and then I want you back on site at Westerley. Forensics will be back by then looking for any clues, and I want you right there if they find anything.’ She paused. ‘Oh, and Kev, dig away as much as you like. I want to be sure we know everything there is to know about the folks over there.’
‘Got it, boss,’ he said brightening.
‘Bryant and I will be heading over to Keats shortly, so if there’s anything likely to help, we’ll let you know.’
Dawson nodded and pulled his shirt collar away from his neck.
She had opened the token window at six thirty when she’d arrived, but no breeze had found its way in yet. To make matters worse, the single radiator beneath the window was still kicking out heat. On a day that promised temperatures in the high twenties it was an unwelcome addition. The knob was broken, and the heating did not get turned off globally as the offices on the north side of the building were like the chilled section of the supermarket, whatever the season.
A floor fan stood in the corner, offering nothing more than an occasional lifting of papers from Dawson’s desk.
‘Stace, anything on Isobel’s phone?’
Stacey shook her head. ‘It’s a pay and go jobby bought from Asda in Brierley Hill. It wasn’t registered so the number from her boyfriend wasn’t a lot of use to us. It was bought with cash. I’ve already fired off an email to the networks, but you’ll all remember last time.’
Oh yes, Kim remembered it well. Two little girls had been kidnapped and their only lead had been a batch of mobile-phone numbers. The networks had laughed in their faces.
‘Are we ruling out female killer, boss?’ Dawson asked.
‘He’s right, guv,’ Bryant agreed before she had chance to answer. He continued. ‘No sexual assault, drugs used for pliability. It could be a strong woman.’
Kim opened her mouth to argue and decided against it. Her gut didn’t think so but on the evidence she couldn’t rule it out.
‘Okay, guys, there’s something else. Another case we’re looking at.’
‘Because we haven’t got enough,’ Dawson grumbled.
‘Sit it out if you like then, Kev,’ she shot back, knowing that nothing would humiliate him more.
‘But I like to be kept busy,’ he said with an apologetic smile.
Kim didn’t smile back.
‘You all remember the guy found at Fens Pools a few years ago?’
‘The Pianist?’ Dawson asked.
Kim wondered just how many nicknames the guy had.
‘Uggghhhh, Kev,’ Stacey admonished as her face scrunched in distaste.
‘Yes, him,’ Kim confirmed. ‘We’re looking into it and before you say another word, Kev, yes this was a Brierley Hill case, but it remains unsolved.’
‘Wasn’t gonna speak, boss,’ he said, shaking his head.
‘We can all guess that his hands were removed to avoid identification, but I learned yesterday that his pacemaker was cut out also.’
‘They have a serial number,’ Dawson observed, narrowing his eyes. Now the case had his interest.
‘Don’t those patients have to take warfarin and get monitored every six months?’ Bryant asked.
‘And second prize of the day goes to the man on my right,’ she said and then looked to Stacey who knew what to do.
‘I’ll start ringing the clinics and check for anyone that started missing appointments about three years ago.’
‘Thanks Stace, and Kev… while you’re looking through mispers anyway…’
‘Got it, boss. But there’s just one more thing.’
‘Go,’ she said, rising from the desk.
‘I appear to be the only person who didn’t win a prize.’
She looked at him meaningfully. ‘And that, Kev, should tell you something.’
Forty-Three
Oh, Mummy, do you remember THAT DAY the same way I do?
You were a year late dropping me off at school. No preschool or nursery for me. No opportunity for a young mind to familiarise itself with other young minds.
A simple lie about my birthday, and I was all yours for another year.
You didn’t think I’d find out, did you?
That morning you cried as though your heart was being torn in two. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I cried too.
You sobbed as you brushed my hair. Your fingers trembled as you formed two equal pigtails that protruded from the side of my head. You were rough as though it was my fault.
You made me breakfast and gave me my vitamins, but they weren’t vitamins at all.
I remember my socks. They were ankle socks with pink butterflies in a line around the top. I didn’t like them, but I couldn’t say so because I remembered the pinafore dress.
As we walked hand in hand I wondered if I could somehow discard them during the day and then I could blame someone else.
There were tears at the classroom, from us both. I cried because you cried and then you cried some more. I can’t remember who stopped first as the teacher pulled us apart.
The other kids looked on, laughing and pointing meanly. I sat in the corner on my own hoping that someone would talk to me and praying that no one would talk to me.
I was sure when I told you how much I hated it you would not make me go again.
Louise was my designated escort. She was so pretty. At break time it was the job of the six-year-old girl to show me around. She took me to the little girls’ toilets. I didn’t want to go in front of her but the milk from the breakfast cereal weighed heavily on my bladder.
The doors were not full length. If you crouched you could see under, and if you jumped you could see over.
I peed as quickly as I could to the sound of Louise’s excited chatter about the lunch choices.
I stood and pulled up my knickers, oblivious to the fact that the chatter had stopped and that Louise was peering over the top of the door.
She was quiet and her eyes were wide. Heat infused my face and I didn’t know why.
But I was to find out later that day.
Forty-Four
Isobel held fast to the grey. It was edging along the black like a spreading stain. She knew it was trying to claim her, but she didn’t know if it was life or death.
And she no longer cared.
Anything but the unrelenting blackness that suffocated her would be a welcome relief.
The darkness had taken everything away. It had stolen her thoughts. There was nothing upon nothing that lived in the desolate bleakness.
Send her the grey, offer her the white, show her the tunnel that would lead her away.
At times the tide of grey slowed to an agonising crawl, causing her to wonder if she’d imagined its encroaching stealth.
There was also a blurring of the edges as though her consciousness was fraying.
The blackness was not as deep, but the more she reached, the higher the panic rose in the fragmented parts, and so she waited patiently for whatever was about to come.
Forty-Five
‘You told him, didn’t you?’ Kim spat as soon as they were alone in the car. ‘You sung like a canary about where I’d be.’
Bryant shrugged. ‘I might have mentioned that you walk Barney up Clent on a Wednesday night around nine and that you park in the lower car park. Just in passing, you know.’
She swung a hard left and bounced him against the passenger door. ‘Bryant, you do realise just how deeply I resent your attempted intrusion into my private life.’
‘Ha, is that what you think I did?’ he asked, righting himself.