Dead Memories (D.I. Kim Stone #10)(78)

Alison nodded, dumbfounded at the speed of both Stacey’s mind and actions.

‘And if we’re lucky that ding we just heard is a collection of the footage from their external cameras and we can see if Beverly walked past and, more importantly, if she was alone.’

‘Is this legal?’

‘No, Alison, as a police officer I feel that I can commit any kind of crime,’ Stacey answered. ‘Of course it’s legal. This is private CCTV footage, which is their prerogative to share especially with the police and we got a helpful security officer.’

‘Stacey, I think I might have a girl crush on you right now.’

‘I’m taken, but thanks anyway. Now let’s have a look.’

Stacey loaded up the first of the two disc icons.

‘What was she wearing?’

‘Yellow jeans and trainers.’

‘Not usual attire for a night worker,’ Stacey observed.

‘She wasn’t working,’ Alison explained. ‘Just went to the club for a drink and some music.’

‘The footage is on time-lapse but we should spot her if she goes by,’ Stacey said as Alison pulled up a chair.

The half-hour window Stacey had given passed by in silence as they both stared at the screen.

‘Nothing,’ Alison said as the screen went blank.

‘Let’s try the other one.’

‘Oh,’ Alison said, seeing that the view was a downward view of the pavement, trained on a small hole in the fencing.

‘Yeah, that’s not great,’ Stacey said. ‘All we’re going to get is a look at some lower legs as they—’

‘Stop,’ Alison cried out.

‘Bloody hell, woman, I’m only here,’ Stacey said.

‘That’s her,’ Alison said, barely able to get the words out. ‘That’s Beverly, look, yellow jeans and trainers.’

Stacey rewound and played it again. They watched silently as the legs entered the shot and left it again.

Alison had the urge to scream at the camera to turn, to follow her, to protect her from the horror that was to come.

Stacey sighed heavily. ‘Sorry, Alison, but she was definitely on her own.’

Alison felt the deflation as she continued to watch the screen. For a while there she’d had real hope of proving herself right and showing that Curtis had been innocent all along.

As Stacey’s arrow headed towards the red cross, Alison grabbed at her arm.

‘Wait,’ she whispered, as her mouth dried up. ‘Play those last few seconds again.’





One Hundred One





‘Thank you for taking the time to speak to us this afternoon, Mr Gennard,’ Kim said as they crammed into the tiny office reserved for the shift manager. In the absence of a proper noticeboard rosters and memos had been taped to the white painted breeze block wall.

‘We understand you keep intelligence on most of the inmates, like who is speaking to who and that kind of thing. We’d like to know more about Symes, Dale Preece, John Duggar and Joel Greene.’

‘Well, I can tell you that Joel Greene is not in the same league as the others. He comes in, does his time, keeps his nose clean, doesn’t get into the factions and there’s nothing linking him to the other three.’

Kim was strangely relieved to hear that.

‘The others are all part of your fan club and—’

‘You know about that?’

He frowned. ‘Our intel would be pretty shit if we didn’t.’

‘And you allow it?’ Bryant asked.

‘Hang on, it ain’t like we give ’em a room and supplies to make a voodoo doll. We control every aspect of their day: when they wake, sleep, eat, piss, see family. We can’t control what they think or talk about.’

‘So, how do you stop something like this getting out of control?’ Bryant asked.

‘We have methods and that’s all I’m going to say.’

‘You have someone in the group, don’t you?’ Kim asked. Her immediate thoughts went to Duggar, the man who had pretended to have a beef with her.

‘I’m really not going to say more.’

What better way of monitoring the group than having someone inside it that would flag up if things were getting out of hand?

‘How would we find out if any of these three had had a book sent here?’

‘Post records, we log everything that comes in or out of the prison.’

He tapped into the computer in the corner after removing a couple of Post-it notes stuck to the screen.

He accessed the system and they waited while he tapped and scrolled. He moved along the columns and scrolled again.

‘Okay, fan mail for Symes. Seventeen letters since he’s been here all from different women.’

‘Really?’

‘No accounting for taste, is there?’ Gennard asked.

The man had neither looks, charm or personality. He was cruel, mean and lived only to inflict violence. What type of woman would be attracted to that?

‘Dale Preece has had a couple of fan letters. Not on the level of Symes.’

She could at least understand that. There was no denying the man was handsome.

‘And the rest are care packages from his mum. So, no record of any books coming in to either of them.’