Dead Souls (D.I. Kim Stone #6)

As though reading her mind he stepped forward.

‘Miss Cowley, we will get permission from the landowners or with warrants. It would just be helpful…’

‘I am not here to assist the police, so if you take one step towards that property I’ll have you in court. And good luck with the Preece family. You’ll get nothing from them.’

Despite her hostile manner, Kim couldn’t help her own interest at the venom in the woman’s tone when she referred to the landowners.

‘Why do you say that?’ she asked, as Fiona’s hand came to rest on her father’s shoulder.

‘Because they are a bunch of robbing bastards,’ she said.

Kim would have liked to pursue the matter further, but the phone in her pocket began to ring.

‘Doctor A,’ she said, taking a step away from the smartly dressed Rottweiler.

‘Inspector, I need you at the lab, now,’ she said, solemnly, before ending the call.

Kim shoved the phone back into her pocket and checked the clock on the wall. What could she possibly have discovered in the three hours since they’d last met?

By the sound of the scientist’s voice, Kim knew it was nothing good.





NINETEEN


‘Anything from the boss, Stace?’ Bryant asked, as they entered the squad room.

Dawson’s tie was immediately removed and discarded onto his desk.

Stacey shook her head. ‘Not a peep.’

‘Busy day, Stace?’ Dawson mocked.

‘Fuck off,’ she replied, tersely.

Bryant sighed. It was obvious from her set expression that she’d had a shit day, and he had no clue why Dawson had to needle her.

‘Kev’s got a present for you,’ he said, narrowing his eyes.

Dawson tutted and took the phone from his pocket. He skidded it across the desk.

She caught it. ‘Whose phone, Fred Flintstone?’ she asked, turning it around.

‘It’s not that old, Stace,’ Bryant said. It wasn’t so long ago he’d had that same model himself.

‘In technology terms we’re talking early Victorian,’ she quipped.

‘Phone belongs to Henryk Kowalski,’ Dawson said.

‘Why isn’t it logged?’ she asked, turning his way.

Evidentially, it should have been bagged, recorded and sent to forensics. Had the phone been available immediately at the scene, Marie West’s fingerprints could have been taken and eliminated.

‘It’s been MIA since the attack,’ Dawson answered.

No court would allow it as evidence now. The attacker’s sweat, saliva and semen could be all over it but that information would never be admissible.

The tiny screen sprang into life as Stacey pressed the power button.

‘Henryk received a text message about casual work,’ Dawson explained. ‘Can you crack it?’ he asked, as the password prompt appeared on the screen.

‘Yowm kidding?’ Stacey asked, disgusted he would question her about such a basic request. ‘Can you take a witness statement?’ she retorted in response.

‘Debatable,’ Bryant offered with a smile. There was a line of tension stretching across their desks.

‘Bloody hell, Stace. Are you not getting enough?—’

‘Finish that sentence, Kev. I dare yer,’ she snapped.

Dawson closed his mouth.

Bryant watched with fascination as the constable hit a few keys in quick succession before powering it off and on again. The menu appeared on the screen.

‘Nice one, Stacey,’ he said.

She offered no response. He did wonder sometimes if she had any clue of her own value. The task had posed no challenge for her but neither himself nor Dawson would have been able to do it in a month of Sundays.

‘I’ve got the text message,’ Stacey said. ‘Received from an unknown number.’

‘Damn,’ he said.

‘Shit,’ Dawson added.

‘I’ll see if there’s anything I can do,’ she offered, continuing to look around his phone.

Her fingers paused as she began to read. The frown on her face turned to a look of horror. She looked from one to the other.

‘Guys, you’d better come and have a look at this.’





TWENTY


‘You know, Travis, either step in or don’t step in but at least be consistent about it,’ Kim said, taking the stairs down to the morgue.

Travis shook his head. ‘Stone, I find women in general a complete mystery but you should come with a bloody instruction manual.’

Kim ignored him as she buzzed through to the lab.

‘Hello again, Doctor A,’ Kim offered, brightly. It was good to see a friendlier face.

The scientist offered a brief smile as she signed something on a clipboard and handed it back to the man beside her.

In a few short hours Doctor A had traded the white suit for a white medical jacket that fell just below her knees. Her legs were encased in grey denim, and the trademark Doc Marten boots were on her feet.

‘It is about time you are coming,’ she said.

Kim held back her smile. The call had reached her less than ten minutes ago. She moved around the doctor and saw what the fiery figure had been obscuring.

Then she looked back to the doctor, who nodded.

Three separate gurneys contained bones.

She moved towards them.

‘You’re sure?’ Kim asked, quietly.

‘Definite,’ Doctor A responded.

The first gurney held the largest collection of bones. Both legs, a right arm and part of the left arm.

The second gurney held some bones of the lower limbs and a pelvis.

The third gurney currently held a single arm.

‘Three victims?’ Kim asked.

Doctor A nodded as she came to stand between gurney one and two.

‘Yes, there are too many bones of the arm. We have a second skull en route right now.’

Kim noted a box on the metal counter still holding the first skull and a collection of small bones.

‘We do not know yet which victim it belongs to.’

Kim was reminded of a jigsaw puzzle and fitting pieces by the process of elimination. That piece cannot fit there and so on until you whittle it down to the only place left where it can fit.

The method only became a problem if there were pieces missing.

Kim prayed there were no pieces missing.

‘You’re sure there are no more than three?’ Kim asked.

Doctor A shook her head. ‘We cannot yet be certain. The remains are not in any particular order so until the excavation is complete…’

Kim prayed there were no more than three.

‘It is clear that this was not the first burial site. These bones have been moved. We are having two types of soil in the pit. Both have been sented off for analysis.’

Kim ignored the mauling of the English language. She got it.

‘Any idea how long the bones have been in this grave?’ she asked.

‘It is hard to say at the moment but they were already skeletonised when they were dumped here.’

Kim found the use of the word ‘dumped’ a little jarring, but then she remembered the bone protruding through the eye and realised it was very accurate indeed.

‘I have seen no evidence of tissue on any of the bones.’

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