Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)
Angela Marsons
Prologue
Old Hill – 1996
I knew before I touched her she was dead. And yet I touched her anyway.
The skin was cool to my touch as my finger trailed along her forearm. It paused at the mole beneath her elbow. Never again would it enlarge with her movement. Never again would I see it as her arms came towards me, encasing me in her warmth.
I caressed the side of her face gently. There was no response so I stroked the skin more forcefully, but her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.
‘Don’t leave me,’ I said, shaking my head as though my denial would make it untrue.
I couldn’t imagine my life without her. It had been only us for such a long time.
To be sure I held my breath and watched her chest to see if it would rise. I counted to twenty-three before the breath burst out of me. Her chest hadn’t moved – not once.
‘How about if I put the kettle on, Mummy? We could go and play our favourite game. I’ll get everything ready,’ I said as the tears began to fall. ‘Mummy, wake up,’ I cried, shaking her arm hard. ‘Please, Mummy, I don’t want you to go. I thought I did but I don’t.’
Her whole body rocked with the force of my pushing. Her head thrashed about on the pillow, and for a moment I thought she was saying no. But as soon as I stopped so did she. Her bobbing head was the last thing to fall still.
I dropped to my knees sobbing into her hand, hoping my tears were made of magic. I willed the muscles to flex, ached for the palm to engage. To feel those fingers combing through my hair.
I grabbed her lifeless hand and placed it on top of my head. ‘Go on, Mummy, say it,’ I said, rolling my head beneath her still fingers. ‘Tell me… tell me that I’m your best little girl in the world.’
One
Black Country – Present Day
* * *
Kim crouched behind the wheelie bin. After fifteen minutes in the same position the feeling was leaving her thighs.
She spoke down into her jacket. ‘Stace, anything on the warrant?’
‘Not yet, boss,’ she heard in her earpiece.
Kim growled. ‘I’m not gonna wait for ever, folks.’
From the corner of her eye she saw Bryant shake his head.
His body was hunched over an open bonnet, positioned directly opposite the target property.
Trust Bryant to be the voice of reason. His cautious nature dictated they do everything by the book and she agreed. To a point. But they all knew what was going on in that house. And it had to end today.
‘Want me to come closer, boss?’ Dawson asked eagerly into her ear.
She was poised to respond in the negative when his voice sounded in her ear again.
‘Boss, IC2 male approaching from the other end of the street.’ A brief pause. ‘Five foot seven, black trousers and grey T-shirt.’
Kim edged back even further. She was two properties away from the target house, wedged between a wheelie bin and a hydrangea bush, but she couldn’t risk being seen. Presently they held the element of surprise and she didn’t want that to change.
‘Any ID, Kev?’ she asked into her jacket. Was it someone they knew?
‘Negative.’
She closed her eyes and wished for the figure to pass. They didn’t need a third male in the property. Currently the numbers were on their side.
‘He’s entered, guv,’ Bryant said from across the road.
Damn it – that could mean only one thing. He was a customer.
She hit the microphone button. Where was that damn warrant? ‘Stace?’
‘Nothing yet, boss.’
She heard the greetings between the two men as the door of the target property opened.
Kim felt the blood surging around her body. Every muscle she could name ached to sprint for the front door, barge in, cuff the occupants, caution them and worry about the paperwork later.
‘Guv, just give it a minute,’ Bryant said from beneath the bonnet.
Only he would know exactly what she was thinking.
She keyed the radio without speaking to acknowledge his words.
If she entered the premises without a warrant, the case would probably never get to court.
‘Stace?’ she asked again.
‘Nothing, boss.’
Kim heard the desperation in her ear and knew Stacey was as eager to offer the right answer as she was to hear it.
‘Okay, guys, I’m going to plan B,’ she said into the microphone.
‘What’s plan B?’ Dawson asked in her ear.
She really had no idea.
‘Just play along,’ she said, straightening.
She escaped the clutches of the hydrangea bush and stamped life back into her lower limbs. She smoothed her hands over her black canvas jeans in case any flower sap had attached itself to her clothes.
She strode purposefully to the front of the house and along the pavement, as though she hadn’t just crept out from a neighbouring garden. As she walked she pushed the wire from her earpiece into her hair.
Yes, the warrant was imminent but that man was most likely a customer and that was a thought she couldn’t stomach.
She positioned herself slightly turned so that her earpiece faced the road.