Kim silently thanked him for noting the obvious.
‘What’s wrong, Bryant, feeling left out?’ Dawson asked.
Bryant smirked. ‘Nah, just wondering where I can buy tickets.’
‘So, what are we supposed to do?’ Dawson asked.
She glanced at his untidy desk. ‘I think you have enough to be going on with. Find out if the guy that was assaulted on Friday has regained consciousness yet, and I want Bryant on that with you.’
‘You want any follow-up with Paul Chater?’ Bryant asked.
She shook her head. The CID team at Brierley Hill had made it clear they required no further involvement from her on that case. Because of her, their questioning had been delayed by three hours awaiting medical authorisation after she’d knocked him off his moped. She had not hesitated to remind them that it was only because of her they had the little shit to question at all.
Dawson rubbed his hands together. ‘Fantastic. I get a partner. But we’re the same rank so who’s in charge?’
‘Me,’ Kim said. ‘And Stacey will continue to be your hub, okay folks?’
They all nodded.
Kim checked the clock on the wall. It was almost five.
‘Okay, enough for today,’ she said, not sure how much longer she could keep up the pretence. ‘We’ll brief at seven in the morning,’ she added, before stepping into The Bowl.
The frustration was not leaving her as quickly as she’d hoped. If it was her case, her team, they would all have been assigned jobs and tasks by now. Her team would be animated, keen and eager to unearth the clues.
The potential problems were already beginning to stack up in her mind.
‘Good sell, there, guv,’ Bryant said from the doorway.
She shrugged. There was little point trying to lie to him.
‘So, I guess this is goodbye,’ he joked, as her phone signalled receipt of a text message.
It was from Doctor A confirming that all facilities were now on site and that recovery would continue in the morning. She knew full well that if it were up to the scientist she would work all night to extract the bones but, like herself, Doctor A had the welfare of a team to consider.
She sent back a short message acknowledging the information, and then dropped her head to the desk and groaned.
‘How the hell are you gonna cope with this?’ Bryant asked from somewhere above her.
Once again, he appeared to be reading her mind.
EIGHT
17 OCTOBER 1989
Jacob James opened his eyes and instantly knew four things.
The room was dark around him.
A searing pain surged from the side of his head.
His wrists were bound.
And he was naked.
The panic that seized him was immediate as thoughts and questions flew into his mind but he forced himself to consider one terrifying detail at a time.
The darkness was resting heavily against his bare skin. He blinked twice. He felt the physical action of his eyes opening and closing but the dense blackness of his vision didn’t change.
Another dart of panic speared him. He blinked once more and raised his bound hands from his lap in front of his eyes. There was a slight shadow. He was not blind.
The pain in his head was thick and travelled around the entire contour of his skull. He narrowed his eyes, trying to focus through the pain and remember what had happened.
An interview. He knew he’d had an interview.
After so many months of looking, he’d met with the owner of a new printing company in Perry Barr. He’d been hopeful.
After the interview, he’d been going to buy chips for the two of them. To celebrate.
He carefully retraced the steps in his mind, looking for the missing information like a set of car keys.
He had turned into Shaft Street and then… nothing.
He tried to force the memory by picturing himself walking down the familiar road. But it wasn’t natural. It was like a film that he was directing instead of a recollection.
As his mind lost focus and wandered from the trail of his memory, the questions flew into his mind.
Where was he?
Who had done this to him?
What the hell had he done?
Why was he being treated this way?
Anger grew inside him as he felt the binding around his wrists, and his naked skin against the wall. He wished his captor were here, now, in front of him. Just one opportunity was all he needed. Although age was no longer on his side, he had learned to fight on the streets back in Jamaica.
But those years were far behind him now. England had given him work, a wife. Family.
A picture of his daughter’s face came into his mind.
‘Adaje…’ he cried out loud.
NINE
Bryant rubbed his hands together, sighed, accepted the inevitable and turned to Dawson.
‘What we got on that assault, Kev?’ he asked.
The guv had popped in before heading for Kidderminster and reiterated her instructions from the previous day. As though he could have forgotten. Her expression had been tight and closed, and he had known her long enough to leave well alone.
During the time he’d worked with Kim Stone he had wondered about the rumours that had whispered through the corridors of the station around five years ago, when she’d been promoted to DI. He had known her only by name and reputation back then but had still not played in the gossip pit. It helped no one.
But what he had seen during the last two years was the tension in her jaw whenever the two of them had collided or even at the mention of Tom Travis’s name.
Bryant’s daily workload normally involved a slice of tolerance with an extra helping of patience thrown in for good measure. And as he looked towards Dawson he had a feeling his tolerance in both those areas was going to be tested during his boss’s secondment.
It wasn’t that he particularly disliked his colleague. Yes, he was reckless, sometimes, and yes, he defied authority other times. He was cocky and confident and full of his own opinion. None of this bothered Bryant. Most days he was entertained by it. He had no issue with the kid making mistakes. His problem was that he never seemed to learn from them.
Dawson pulled at the top three folders of the stack in his filing tray, opened the top one and spoke as he read.
‘Polish male named Henryk Kowalski, early thirties, found in the car park next to the Job Centre, in town,’ he said, nodding his head across the road towards Halesowen.
Bryant knew the car park. It was single storey and full of concrete pillars and dark corners that had seen their fair share of drug deals.
‘Is he a user?’ he asked.
Dawson shrugged. ‘Haven’t got anywhere near him since Friday. In and out of consciousness. Nurse said we can have five minutes.’
Bryant frowned. ‘Serious injuries, then. Any witnesses?’
Dawson nodded. ‘A young kid named Marie, who had just closed up a jewellery shop for the night.’
‘Witness first?’ said Dawson.
‘Victim first?’ said Bryant.