Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)

‘How did it happen?’ Mrs Hickman asked, finally meeting her gaze. Kim saw a deep sadness in her eyes, but she couldn’t help feeling that this woman had already grieved for the loss of her child.

‘There is no gentle way to tell you that your daughter was murdered, Mrs Hickman,’ Kim said, trying to feel her way through this situation.

‘Was it drugs related?’ the woman asked.

Kim shook her head. Mrs Hickman obviously thought it was a recent death and yet eleven years of absence had stood between them.

Kim wanted a better understanding of this situation before she revealed the fact that Louise had been dead for years.

‘You haven’t seen Louise for some years, Mrs Hickman. Would you mind sharing the reason for that?’

She nodded and stared over her head. ‘I’m not going to go into too much detail, but, much as it pains me to admit it, my daughter was not a pleasant child. My late husband and I probably spoiled her as she was our only one, but by the time we realised that her behaviour was beyond precocious it was already too late.

‘Every different phase we assumed she would outgrow. We tried to rein her in but she had no fear of any consequences. We tried everything, but nothing stopped the bad behaviour. It’s difficult to discipline a child who simply doesn’t care.

‘Anyway, when she came home and told us she was pregnant and she intended to keep the child we actually hoped it would be the making of her. But she enjoyed the pregnancy more than the child.’

Kim frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘She was the centre of attention, Inspector. The only girl taking a growing bump to school. She enjoyed the attention of being unique. Until the baby was born. Of course we supported her. She lived here with Marcus and we did everything we could but once her friends stopped coming round she lost complete interest in her son.

‘One day she left the house without telling me. I had no idea until I heard the baby’s cries from upstairs. He was wet and hungry, and she had just left him. We argued constantly about her refusal to take care of her child, but as usual she cared nothing for the consequences of her actions.’

Kim hadn’t noticed Bryant sit down at the table.

‘So you took care of her child?’ Kim asked.

‘Of course. The time spent away got longer and longer. First a few days, then a few weeks and then months. This continued until Christmas Day eleven years ago when Marcus was five.’

She took a breath and continued. ‘She stormed in on Christmas morning after being gone for almost four months. She was drunk and tried to take Marcus. He was terrified. He barely knew her. She only wanted him because she’d been told she had a good chance of getting a council flat if she had a child. Her father physically threw her out and told her not to come back until she’d cleaned up her act. We never saw her again, but we took precautions in case it happened again.’

Kim assumed they had applied for guardianship of Marcus to ensure his safety.

Mrs Hickman looked around at the baking ingredients and smiled. ‘He insisted on a home-made cake like normal except this time it came with the proviso that I don’t tell his friends. Her son is healthy and happy, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t think of Louise every day,’ she said as the first tear fell from her eye. ‘I always had hope that she could turn her life around but…’

Kim understood. The hope ended now.

Quietly she pushed back the chair. There were few questions to ask. This woman did not even know her daughter, had not seen her for many years before her murder.

‘Thank you for being so open and honest, Mrs Hickman,’ Kim said, holding out her hand.

Mrs Hickman shook it in return and made to stand.

Kim ushered her back down. ‘We’ll see ourselves out,’ she said.

A formal identification would follow but Kim knew they had their girl.

She paused at the door that led into the porch.

A little girl with mousy brown hair and a red chequered dress frowned from an enlarged school photo.

‘I’ve got one of mine at home looking just like that,’ Bryant observed with a sad smile. ‘Photographer’s nightmare but a pretty little girl.’

Kim stared for a moment at the photograph and saw something that took her by surprise.

‘What else do you see there, Bryant?’ she asked.

‘Awww… shit,’ he whispered as his eyes found the same thing hers had.

A kirby grip fashioned with half a heart.





Fifty-Five





Tracy Frost finished reading the article and placed it on the passenger seat.

It was good copy. Her editor had loved it.

She had chosen not to reveal to him that she had known she was being used. A fact that was still gnawing at her insides like a hungry ferret.

Her natural instinct was to go digging into the exact thing Inspector Stone wanted to keep hidden, and she hadn’t been able to help herself completely. She had managed to find out the name of the woman who worked there as an entomologist, which had made her even more curious about what it was about Catherine Evans that Kim Stone wanted to hide.

Her fingers had been poised to start searching when she’d realised what she was doing. She had given her word and there came a time when that had to mean something. They had agreed to scratch each other’s backs and Tracy knew she couldn’t stop scratching just because she’d found a juicier itch. That’s what had kept Bob anonymous for this long. And so she had removed her fingers from the keyboard and ripped out the page with the name so no one else could find it. A deal was a deal.

Now that she had parked, Tracy knew she eventually had to try to leave the car, but it would take another couple of deep breaths before she could even think about it.

She glanced up to the bay window. He would know she was here. His seat was to the left of the first glass pane. A spot he’d claimed as his own when he’d married her mother twenty-one years ago.

Tracy felt the rage course through her as she turned the ignition and started the car.

She still couldn’t force herself to go in there.





Fifty-Six





‘You wanted to see me?’ Kim said, closing the door behind her.

She was not surprised to see a copy of the Dudley Star on Woody’s desk.

‘Stone, you have a leak.’

She moved closer to the desk. ‘May I?’

‘Carry on,’ he said, pushing it towards her.

She turned the paper around. The headline screamed ‘Body Farm Shocker’, which caused her an internal groan. Tracy had had plenty of time to come up with a decent headline.

The front page began the story, which then took up the majority of pages two and three.

She scanned it and found that Tracy hadn’t done a bad job, despite the appalling headline.

‘It’s got everything, Stone. I distinctly remember instructing you to keep this low profile. Did you not think to pass that instruction to your team?’

‘I did, sir,’ she said, pushing the paper back towards him.

‘Do you realise what this is going to cause? Do you have any idea of the letters, complaints and petitions that are going to flood in?’

Luckily they wouldn’t be coming to her.

‘I am not happy about this at all, Stone. The location of the facility has been compromised because you have a leak in your team, someone who cannot be trusted to follow a simple instruction or keep their mouth shut.’

Woody slapped the newspaper. ‘It’s clear that she has spoken to someone involved in the investigation and I want the name of that person…’

‘It was me, sir,’ she said calmly. ‘I spoke to Tracy Frost.’

It was not often Kim was afforded the luxury of seeing her boss speechless, but it didn’t last for long.

His disbelief turned into a knowing frown. ‘No, Stone, you’re covering for one of your team members, and I won’t stand for it. I want to know who it was.’

‘It really was me. I spoke directly with Tracy Frost and gave her most of the information. Some she dug up herself but not much. It came from me. I am the unnamed source.’

Woody sat back in his chair, shaking his head. He regarded her with an expression that demanded answers.