Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(30)

She’d studied every piece of information, reading it over and over again, extracting typologies – categorising the crime scene and by extension the offender’s personality.

And eventually she had given them a profile of the offender, by which time the team had decided on a prime suspect, but she had insisted they were wrong.

They had fancied an ex-boyfriend of Jennifer, a wannabe musician who toured the pubs and clubs of Worcester gigging and sniffing after his big break. Alison had insisted they were wrong. Curtis Swayne was a creative, unstable drifter who lived in someone’s spare room. Their interest was all because he’d demonstrated violent tendencies after a pub fight at a bar where Jennifer had worked part-time.

They had listened initially and had focussed the investigation on people they’d interviewed that did match the profile. Two suspects in particular.

Gerard Batham, a twenty-eight-year-old junior partner at the law firm where Jennifer worked during the day. His ambition, ruthlessness, drive and organisation along with his good looks had made him a possible suspect.

The other was Tom Drury, the owner of Elite bar in Kidderminster, where Curtis played and Jennifer worked.

And then Beverly had been attacked on a night she’d been at Elite and Curtis had been playing, and Tom had been behind the bar.

Tom had an alibi and Curtis couldn’t even remember where he’d gone once he’d finished his set.

Within two days of Beverly’s attack Curtis had been arrested and charged and she’d been shown the door.

To add insult to injury the chief super, during a press conference, had made a public, damning statement about the use of ‘hocus-pocus’ methods of detection instead of solid police work.

She had hidden in her house for two days, surrounded by tissues and fast-food containers.

She’d watched every news report on the murders, streaming Sky News continually for any further update. She had watched as Beverly Wright had been identified as a prostitute and her name had slowly faded from the news.

And Beverly was the one she was interested in, whatever her profession. Jennifer had been dead when she’d been seconded to the case but the attack on Beverly was the one she could have, should have, been able to prevent.

She’d eventually plucked up the courage to call the hospital and had been mortified to learn that hers had been the only call.

And she’d visited the girl every night ever since.

For the last five days she’d pored over every detail of the two cases and tried to marry either one of them to Curtis and she just couldn’t do it. Not without going against everything she’d ever learned.

Since being removed from the case she’d also been frozen out by everyone she’d worked with, her reputation and career in tatters, which bothered her but not nearly as much as the sickness in her stomach that refused to go away every time she sat beside the figure of Beverly Wright.

She looked over the names of the men who had been questioned in connection with Jennifer’s murder.

Her eyes continually returned to two names on the list. And one in particular.

She sighed heavily. Only one question really mattered.

What was she going to do about it?





Forty-Two





Kim wouldn’t have minded a nice hot shower after leaving Symes in the holding cell.

‘Phew, that was a bit intense,’ Gennard said, waving away the other two officers. ‘Won’t be needed for your next guy but I’d rather you left your belongings in here for now.’

Kim nodded her understanding as Bryant joined them.

‘Rules are rules,’ he elaborated, unnecessarily.

‘So, where will we find Dale Preece?’ she asked.

He nodded towards the visitor centre across the road. ‘Halfway through afternoon visiting. His mum’s normally here.’

She didn’t relish the idea of seeing either of them again.

She took a breath and headed across the street.



* * *



The room was about half-full of prisoners and visitors sitting on plastic seats at fixed wooden tables holding cardboard coffee cups and sandwich wrappers.

Dale Preece had changed very little, she thought, as she got a second to appraise him.

His black hair was short and looked smart. He appeared to have dropped a few pounds making his cheekbones more pronounced.

She wasn’t surprised to see him holding his mother’s hand across the table. There were only the two of them left.

She took a step forward, and Dale looked her way.

For the briefest of seconds, they were back in that farmhouse and Dale was pointing a rifle straight at her.

His face hardened as he appeared to travel through the same memories of the horror that took place that night.

Sensing his distraction Mallory Preece turned her head too.

There was no joy contained in her expression of surprise. But Kim wasn’t interested in Mallory Preece who had shown herself to be a limp, ineffectual woman dominated by her racist father who had destroyed the lives and relationship of both his grandsons. And she didn’t believe that Mallory had known nothing.

‘What do you want?’ they said together.

‘Just a word,’ she said, looking only at Dale. His dark eyes were unreadable but the set jaw gave away his displeasure at her presence.

Mallory Preece glanced at her watch. ‘I’ll go, sweetheart,’ she said quietly to her son. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’