‘I’ve got four properties,’ Gibbs called out. ‘All of them have been in the Preece family for over twenty years,’ he said, as the printer spluttered into life.
‘A manor house in Bromsgrove. An old hospital site in Staffordshire. An army training ground in Wolverley, and a derelict trading estate in Walsall.’
‘Any links to the Cowleys?’
‘Still checking,’ he said.
‘Guv, got a sec?’ Bryant said.
She moved away from the others and joined him by the door to Travis’s office.
‘It’s not gonna help us to find her, but I think I know why she couldn’t let this go.’
‘Go on,’ she said.
‘Her mum was just very honest with me after I told her about the case Stacey had been working on. Apparently our Stace contemplated suicide in her teens. Her mother walked in on her, thank God, but it does explain why she went looking for answers.’
‘Shit,’ Kim said, taking a deep breath. ‘That stays between us, yeah?’
‘Obviously,’ he said.
She turned to walk away but Bryant had stayed where he was.
‘What?’
‘I should have seen it, guv. Thinking back, I remember her closing her computer when we walked in. The sombreness of her mood was another clue but I thought it was this case. I should have—’
‘Bryant, there’s no point to this, especially now,’ she said. She would have liked to offer him reassurance that it was not his fault, but she couldn’t. Not right now.
‘Jump on the CCTV with Kev,’ she instructed. ‘I want to know if there was a blue transit van anywhere near our station.’
‘Got one,’ Penn called. ‘Got a link…’ He paused. ‘Shit, I’ve actually got two. Fiona Cowley was the marketing manager at the Brookmyre Manor House. The Preece family tried to resurrect it about five years ago but it failed. And Jeff Cowley served at the army base twenty-three years ago.’
‘I’ve got the last sighting of Fiona’s car, here,’ Gibbs called out. ‘Caught by the Esso services in Wordsley.’
Kim took a look at the car disappearing around a corner.
‘Shit, guv, I’ve got one,’ Dawson shouted.
Kim frowned. ‘Hold that a minute,’ she said to Gibbs, and turned to Dawson.
‘Kev, play me your footage.’
Passing the Esso station was a blue transit van.
‘Pause,’ she said.
‘Gibbs,’ she said, calling him over.
He looked at the screen.
‘Same one you got following Fiona Cowley’s car?’
‘Looks like the same age and model but without registration numbers…’
‘Have you timed that one yet?’
Dawson shook his head.
‘Do it now,’ she said.
‘Stone,’ Travis said, phone in hand.
She turned.
‘Checked your emails?’
‘Not in the last twenty seconds,’ she said, sarcastically. She’d developed whiplash from going desk to desk.
‘The fibre found with the victims. It’s a match for the bathroom carpet,’ he said.
She nodded and frowned. ‘Of course it is. We saw that carpet ourselves.’
It was the result they’d expected.
He shook his head. ‘Not from the Cowley’s. It matches a fibre in the gum on my shoe. The fibre in the grave came from a Preece.’
NINETY-ONE
‘We can’t rule out that the two families are linked somehow. There’s a history there and they must have been in and out of each other’s houses,’ Kim said. ‘Fibres get transferred.’
She turned away, trying to process all the information as Dawson put up his hand.
‘Seventeen minutes, boss,’ he called out. ‘Van was out of sight, and it went back the way it came.’
Everyone stopped working, and turned. They all knew.
That was the vehicle that had taken Stacey.
The sound of Kim’s phone ringing shattered the sudden silence.
‘Doctor A?’ she answered, as people turned quietly back to their tasks.
‘I have heard about your Stacey. I will not keeping you long,’ she said, quickly. ‘But those marks, the nicks you called them, on the legs of victim number three…’
‘You know what they are?’ Kim asked, standing up.
‘Yes, Inspector. They are teeth marks. Dog teeth marks, and I counted one hundred and ten.’
‘Jesus,’ Kim said, closing her eyes for one second. The poor soul had been mauled to death by a pack of dogs.
‘Thank you, Doctor A,’ she said.
‘Inspector… good luck,’ said the scientist.
Kim thanked her again and ended the call.
There were few ways to die that could be more horrific than having the flesh ripped from your bones by a pack of hungry animals.
She could not consider such a horrific fate for her colleague. She would not.
Everything they had learned about this case meant nothing to her right now. The only thing that mattered was finding Stacey and getting her back. Alive and unharmed.
‘Okay, everybody on CCTV. We want a registration number for that van, and we need to know where it went.’
NINETY-TWO
Bryant watched her move around the room, whirling from desk to desk, trying to pick out pieces of the puzzle that would take her where she wanted to go. Solving any case had been trumped by the need to find Stacey.
He was sure everyone in the room could see the growing tension in Kim. The fact that her hands were permanently clenched and her jaw was set rigidly. The occasional neck roll was a poor attempt to relieve the tension building in her shoulders.
What he did question was whether the others could see everything else that was going on.
Did they see the guilt she was feeling every time she scratched her upper lip? Did they see the responsibility she was feeling every time she cupped her chin in her palm? Or the sheer determination that coursed through her every time she thrust her fists into her front pockets? He knew the signs, because he was feeling it too.
But unlike him, she had learned responsibility at the age of six years old when she had felt accountable for trying to protect her weaker twin from their schizophrenic mother. And guilt when she had been unable to.
Right now, Kim stood in front of the three wipe boards, studying them for a clue, her arms folded across her chest.
She glanced towards the window and bit her top lip. It had been dark for more than an hour, and he could sense the panic clinging to her body.
But what the others wouldn’t know was the cause and effect of her feelings of guilt and responsibility. She closed down and focussed. She turned every emotion in on herself and hung on to the steely determination that he had seen before. Except that rigid resolve also eroded her common sense and objective decisions. She would take any measures to get Stacey back. Whatever the risk to herself.
He stood and moved towards her.
‘You all right, guv?’ he asked.
The mask descended, hiding everything he’d already seen.
Her voice was measured and calm and emotionless.
‘Of course, I’m all right, Bryant,’ she said, offering him a look, before moving away and continuing to study the boards.
And in doing so, she confirmed he was right.
NINETY-THREE