Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(66)

Eighty-Three





It was almost eleven when Kim’s key slid into the lock of her front door.

She’d driven straight from Ted’s to the Clent Hills just as dusk had fallen. Normally, she loved catching that period between sunset and night and used it to walk the events of the day out of her system.

She remembered once when Bryant had tried to explain the difference between civil, nautical and astronomical dusk. Her interest had waned after ten seconds. For her it was when she liked to walk the dog.

Except tonight the negative feelings had not made it through the soles of her boots and had remained firmly in her body.

She refreshed Barney’s water bowl and filled the percolator for herself. A pot of coffee at this time of night was not conducive to a restful night’s sleep but it wasn’t like she’d got work in the morning.

She paused and looked down at the dog slurping greedily and splashing droplets onto the stone floor.

‘Yeah, you’re right, boy, that was pathetic.’

She’d never been one to succumb to self-pity, she mused, as she sat on the sofa.

‘But, just this once, eh?’ she said, as the dog materialised beside her and nudged her hand to the top of his head.

She smiled as he leaned into her side and slid so that his back was against her hip and his head resting on her thigh.

He’d trained her very well, she realised, as her hand stroked the top of his head and down his back.

It was hard not to feel the effects of the day wash over her now that she was sitting still.

It felt like days had passed since she’d stormed out of the post-mortem, unable to bear the sight of the charred, blackened bodies and trying desperately not to let the vision overlay the picture of her foster parents, smiling and joking as they had been the last time she’d seen them. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly as though it would block the snapshot from entering her mind.

She kept her eyes closed and rested her head back against the sofa as she recalled the kindness in the eyes of the man who had written about her life. The anger towards him had dissipated when she had understood his motivation for writing the book and exposing the truth.

Harder to bear had been Bryant questioning her ability to run the case.

Suddenly Barney shifted beside her and rubbed his chin against her leg.

‘Yeah, okay, he didn’t exactly say that,’ she admitted. But that’s what it had felt like even though she knew his concerns were only for her well-being.

And then Alison’s assessment of her mental state outside the police station. Which she had disagreed with vehemently right before assaulting a fellow officer at a crime scene. Go me, she thought, shaking her head.

And yet she struggled not to feel justified in her actions on that score even though it had prompted her removal from the case.

But just seeing that girl, lying there, sexually assaulted, violated in the worst possible way, had brought back feelings she’d spent her whole life fighting away: helplessness, fear, loathing, disgust, rage.

She felt her hand tense on Barney’s head as emotions began to engulf her.

‘Oh no, oh no, oh no,’ she said, moving the dog aside and standing. She headed over to the coffee machine and poured a tall mug of Colombian Gold.

She would never allow those emotions to torment her again. She wasn’t thirteen any more. But just for a few minutes…

And the final insult had come from Ted; the man who knew more about her than anyone and still thought Woody had been right to take her off the case. She could have understood the others being unable to see the truth but not Ted. She’d felt sure he’d understand.

But none of them could comprehend that the memories had to stay in their boxes. She couldn’t take them out, examine them and then blow the cobwebs away into the wind. Everyone around her insisted that the emotions that were attached to the memories were being pushed down, somewhere deep inside, where they would ferment, bubble and explode, but they were wrong.

It was like a magic trick, an illusion, maybe sleight of hand. Look over there while I do this over here. She could just about manage to disassociate herself from the events unfolding before her eyes as long as she could distract her mind with solving the case, sifting the clues, following leads and searching for evidence.

What Woody, Bryant, Alison and even Ted seemed unable to understand was that it was the focus of catching the bastard that was keeping the demons away.





Eighty-Four





Bryant took a deep breath as he mounted the stairs to the squad room. How the hell was he supposed to explain this to the team? How was he supposed to even begin to move this investigation forward without the guv? His mind didn’t work in the same way hers did.

He viewed her brain like a cyborg with tentacles, reaching out in all directions and bringing back minute pieces of data, inputting them and coming up with answers. There were times he kept quiet because he couldn’t actually keep up with her. So, how was he supposed to lead this investigation never mind manage a team?

‘Hey, Bryant, was it you?’ Sergeant Devlin asked with a smirk as they passed on the stairs.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Err… nothing,’ Devlin said, without stopping, although his shoulder movement told Bryant he was still chuckling.

What the hell was all that about? Whatever it was he wasn’t responsible. He’d only just got here, but thinking about it, Jack on the desk had given him a knowing smile when he’d entered the building. He reached the top of the stairs and gave himself the once-over. No, his shirt was definitely tucked into his trousers, he wasn’t wearing odd shoes and there was no sign on his back.