Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(100)



‘You don’t get it, do you?’ she hissed. ‘He’s obsessed with you. He thinks about you all the time. He killed his own brother to save you and even in prison—’

‘He hates me,’ Kim said, trying to make the woman understand.

‘Damn well wish he did. I’ve been trying for long enough to make him. He’s the only one I ever cared about. My dad, Bart, I couldn’t care less. Dale is the only one of them I ever loved and all he can think about is you. You’re right there in the prison with him and you’ll be with him when he gets out. That’s why I hate you and that’s why you have to die.

‘Because then I’ll get him back. Then he’ll be all mine again.’

‘Mallory, you’ve lost your damn mind,’ Kim said, taking another step, her mind’s eye picturing Alison hanging over the side of the building.

Mallory followed and held the knife aloft.

‘I told you, now one more time and I’m gonna…’

Kim stepped forward one more time, praying she’d timed it right.





One Hundred Thirty-Four





‘We’ll never catch him,’ Stacey puffed as the two of them raced up what felt like the tenth flight of steps but had probably been less.

He agreed. Penn had headed off like a whippet. But the roof was not where they were going.

‘This one,’ he said, exiting the stairway. He stood for a second, getting his bearings. He turned left, ran to the window and then headed for the first door.

He banged his fist against it and shouted at the same time.

‘Bryant, what the?…’ Stacey’s words trailed away as her thoughts caught up with his. ‘Got it,’ she said, bending her head and opening the letterbox while Bryant continued to thump.

‘Let us in,’ she shouted. ‘Police, let us in. Come to the door.’

The door opened next to it and a kid with low-slung jeans and a ponytail answered. ‘Hey, wassup?’

‘Who lives here? We need to get in,’ Stacey said, as Bryant continued to bang.

‘Old Mrs Thomas but Friday night, innit? Bingo till ten.’

‘Shit,’ Bryant said, looking around. He grabbed the fire extinguisher. He knew this was the flat from where they could try and reach her.

‘Stace, go in there, find a window and just call out to her. Tell her we’re gonna get her down.’

Stacey ushered the lad inside as he took a swing at the door. It left a decent dent but no movement on the door.

He swung back and then forward again with all his might and aimed right for the door handle throwing in the loudest cry of persuasion.

The door crashed open.

Even from the front door he could see through to the lounge and Alison’s torso hanging in front of the window.

He wiped the sweat from his brow as he sprinted along the hall, almost falling over a metal walking frame.

The whole window stretched from floor to ceiling and was formed of three parts: the bottom part that came up to his waist was by far the biggest – the panel behind which was Alison’s head and shoulders. The other two panels above were half the size and only one had a window handle.

Immediately he could see that it wasn’t big enough to be able to grab the rope and pull her inside.

‘Shit, shit, shit,’ he said, rubbing at his forehead again.

His only option was to try and smash the biggest panel of glass. He knew to do so was to risk showering her with shards, injuring, blinding or possibly killing her.

Or she could potentially fall to her death, said a small voice inside his head.

He ran back for the fire extinguisher and launched it towards the glass.

It bounced right back at him.





One Hundred Thirty-Five





Mallory took the final step towards the straining rope and leaned down.

The knife flicked across the taut strands as the heating system burst into life right beside her, bang on time at 8 p.m.

Kim lurched forward, only needing that element of surprise to distract the woman for one second.

Mallory managed to get one more cut across the rope before Kim knocked her backwards.

The taut rope had been sliced not severed but Alison’s weight on the other end hanging over the side of the building was adding strain.

‘Get… off…’

Kim rolled around on the floor atop Mallory who still had possession of the knife.

Mallory struggled to get back towards the rope to give it one more slice.

‘Have to… kill…’

‘You’re killing no one else, you fucking bitch,’ Kim barked, finally able to let her true emotions out.

Kim knew that her colleague was currently dangling over the edge of the building secured only by a rope that was suffering under the strain but she couldn’t let this woman free while she still had the knife.

‘It’s getting weaker,’ Mallory said, breathlessly, looking at the straining threads.

Kim felt underneath the woman and found one hand and then the other.

Nothing. No knife.

Kim lifted Mallory’s head up and then banged it off the ground but she wouldn’t stop squirming and Kim had no clue where the knife was now. But Mallory did. If she gave her even a second of freedom she could reach over and sever the rope.

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