Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(69)

‘Does that mean I get to tell you to shut up when I—’

‘You could always try it,’ she said.

‘Hmmm… you’re mauling me now, aren’t you?’

‘A little bit,’ she admitted.

‘So, we off to Winson Green seeing as everything keeps leading back there?’ he asked.

‘You’re in charge, but if it was me, I’d probably want to head to the hospital first and see how Billie Styles is doing.’

‘Guv, I gotta say that deference does not become you, so please cut it out,’ he said, pulling off the car park. ‘In fact, no, that’s an order,’ he said, smirking.

She glanced out of the window at the pedestrians already weary from the heat and it wasn’t even ten. The promised night-time storms had not arrived and the clammy heat was continuing to build.

‘You know, extreme weather can drive people to do some real crazy things,’ Bryant observed.

‘Which you should bear in mind when you keep giving me instructions,’ she said.

‘Oh yeah, meant to ask. You lose your phone last night?’

‘Didn’t want to talk,’ she said, honestly.

‘Well, if you’d replied to just one of my twenty messages I’d have—’

‘I’d have thought my lack of response to the first ten might have given you a clue.’ She turned towards him. ‘So, what did you say to Woody about me being taken off the case?’

He shrugged. ‘Told him I supported his decision and I was looking forward to a bloody rest.’

She smiled. ‘And how’s that working out for you?’

‘Damn fleas,’ he said.





‘Are you sure you should be doing this?’ Bryant asked, as they headed towards the ward.

‘I’m not here to question her, Bryant, I’m here to see how she is, which is something I would have done if my home hadn’t been commandeered,’ she said, walking ahead and entering the ward.

She approached the desk but waited for Bryant to show his ID.

‘A young girl… never mind,’ Kim said, as she saw the WPC from the night before step out into the hallway.

Kim walked towards her. The woman had shed her stab vest but was still wearing her black trousers and tee shirt from the previous night.

‘Not been home?’ Kim asked.

She shook her head. ‘No, Marm. Got some kip while she was in surgery.’

‘Name?’

‘Billie Styles… we already confirmed…’

‘I meant yours,’ Kim clarified.

She smiled wearily. ‘Sorry, I’m Annie.’

‘You wanna go take a break while?…’

‘No, thank you, Marm. I want to be here when she wakes up. I’m hoping she knows my voice and I want to be able to try and get any info from her. Rape kit was pretty pointless given the mess.’

Kim nodded her understanding as she glanced into the room.

The girl was dressed in a hospital gown that was showing bare shoulder and a purple bruise. Her straw blonde hair had been pushed back from a face drained of colour.

‘How old?’ Kim asked.

‘Twenty-one,’ Annie replied, rubbing at her tired eyes. ‘I’ve been trying all night to understand what kind of person would do this to another human being.’

‘A monster,’ Kim said, dragging her eyes away. ‘Possessions?’ she asked.

‘Bagged, tagged and with Forensics,’ she answered.

‘Thank you,’ Kim said. This WPC had had a very long night and still managed to follow procedure.

‘Marm, may I ask if you really did punch Twonk?’

Kim shook her head. ‘But almost,’ she said, glancing at Bryant. ‘His name is Twonk?’

Annie shook her head. ‘It’s a nickname. He’s a bit of an idiot who tries too hard to fit in.’

If that was the nickname he’d earned it would be a hard one to shift.

‘Okay, Annie. Well, thanks for everything and try to get some—’

‘Just one thing, Marm,’ she said, scratching her head. ‘In the girl’s belongings there was her driving licence in a wallet in the back pocket of her jeans with about forty pounds in cash, but in the front pocket of her jeans there was something else.’

‘What?’ Kim asked, trying to keep her face neutral.

‘A five pound note. A ripped-up five pound note. Not sure if it means anything.’

Kim nodded her thanks.

Oh yes, it definitely meant something.





Eighty-Eight





Alison stretched her back at the breakfast bar and read over the notes she’d made about John Duggar, preparing to start work on his profile, but try as she might to concentrate she just couldn’t rid herself of the feeling she’d seen or heard something the previous night that had jarred somewhere in her brain. The more she tried to capture it the more elusive it became.

‘What are you frowning about?’ Stacey asked. ‘On second thoughts, I don’t wanna know. I’m still in the doghouse with Devon because of you. Didn’t help that I had to leave early this morning to get that earring over to Mitch.’

‘Stacey, I’ve said…’