Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(11)

But clearest of all was the image of his small frame resting against her as his weakened, sickly body had finally betrayed them both. And even then the six-year-old girl had thought that if they were found soon enough her brother could be brought back to life.

Help had come eventually. At first she’d thought the banging sound was from the radiator to which she was tied. Twice a day, 8 a.m. and 8 p.m., the heating system had kicked in to keep a supply of hot water to each flat, sending a loud shudder from the roof through the ancient pipes. Initially, she’d tried to count the rumbles to keep track of time but she’d become confused.

Only when the banging had continued and punctured her semi-conscious state had she understood that help had arrived. But it had been way too late for her twin. Just as it had been for the male who had sat in the exact same position the night before. And yet they’d reached the girl in time – not to save her, but she’d been alive, just as Kim herself had been thirty years earlier. Malnourished, weak and frail but with enough energy to fight the police officers who had tried to separate her from her brother.

She couldn’t help draw the comparisons like a list in her mind.

Location – check.

Radiator – check.

Handcuffs – check.

Boy dead – check.

Girl alive – check.

Cracker packet – check.

Coke bottle – check.





She understood that Woody was choosing to ignore the blatant connection so that he could keep her on the case after she’d assured him that she could handle it.

And she could.

She was sure of it.





Fourteen





Kim returned Stacey’s missed call and put the phone on hands-free.

‘Jeez, Bryant, your air con broke?’ she asked right before the constable answered.

He shook his head, started the car and switched on the air conditioning. The cool air hit her face immediately with a blast of freshness.

‘We have names,’ Stacey said before Kim had chance to speak.

‘Go on,’ Kim said, feeling something tense within her body. She realised she was waiting for names she recognised.

‘Mark Johnson and Amy Wilde, boyfriend and girlfriend who hung around a couple of shelters and community centres but mainly Stourbridge. The guy there talked to the pair quite a bit.’

‘Great work, Stace, and where can I find this guy?’ she asked, motioning for Bryant to turn the air con down. Her right ear was getting frostbite.

‘Langley Road, at the back of the bus station.’

‘And his name?’ Kim asked, motioning again to Bryant, who turned the dial up once more.

‘His name is Harry—’

‘Hang on,’ Kim interrupted. She turned to her colleague. ‘Down, Bryant, not up,’ she said.

‘Sorry, my mistake,’ he said with an expression that said it wasn’t a mistake at all. Damn his little victories.

‘Go on, Stace.’

‘Harry Jenks manages the centre.’

‘Got it. Thanks, Stace. Good—’

‘Boss, Penn and I were talking and we think there’s something a bit weird going on here. It’s a bit like the murder of these kids wasn’t about them at all. I mean—’

‘Thanks, Stace, talk later,’ Kim said, ending the call.

Damn it, this wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d thought.





Fifteen





‘Yeah, not sure that’s a line of enquiry the boss wants us to follow,’ Stacey said, stunned by the silence in her ear.

Adjusting to the boss’s operational levels of brusque had taken some fine-tuning on her part over the years.

In person, she registered as chilly but with the benefit of facial expressions and body language. Over the phone she normally dropped a few degrees once the body language had been lost, but that response had been positively arctic. Most unlike the boss to refuse to even listen. Normally she heard people out and then said no.

‘Guess it’s back to the CCTV for me then,’ Penn said, as his phone began to ring.

He answered it, frowned, wrote something down, said okay and ended the call.

‘Dobbie’s Salvage, Brierley Hill, some hysterical woman on the phone,’ he said, standing. ‘Officers en route but want CID to pop along, just in case. You coming?’

Stacey shook her head, still smarting from the boss’s attitude. ‘Sounds like a waste of time. I’ll get on to the CCTV close to Hollytree and you can join me when you get back.’

He nodded and left.

Stacey sat back and sighed heavily. Her own instinct had been echoed by Penn, but the boss had told her to leave well alone.

There was something off with these two victims but the boss wasn’t interested.

The question was, should she continue to pursue it anyway?





Sixteen





Kim took an instant dislike to Harry Jenks but wasn’t sure why.

She could forgive the hair dye that coloured his hair an unnatural black. She could forgive the sweaty palm, the memory of which wouldn’t leave her until she’d nicked one of Bryant’s antiseptic wipes back in the glove box of the car, but what she couldn’t forgive was the bling.