Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(12)

Stacey was summarising Kim’s sentences to two or three words and noting them.

Kim cast her eyes over the board, satisfied that the main aspects had been covered, and waited for the detective constable to resume her seat.

‘Okay, Stace, I want you to start by seeing what you can dig up on the staff at Westerley. Without an identification we’ll work our way out. The land on the other side of the stream is not officially their property and the facility is secret so what’s the significance of the dump site? Also, I want you to look at the access point. How did he get there and how did he know about it?’

‘Got it, boss.’

‘Kev, get on to missing persons to see if we can get a match.’

He nodded and reached for the phone.

She took a sip of her coffee. ‘And I’m off to brief the boss.’

Bryant smirked. ‘Have fun.’

‘And apparently you’re coming with me.’

His face dropped as Dawson offered a snigger.

‘So, Bryant, what you done wrong now?’ Kim asked as they headed up the stairs.

‘I was just gonna ask you the same question.’

Woody’s instruction had been specific. Bring Bryant. As his superior she would be present for any bollocking for him, but Bryant had never been present for any of hers.

‘Ready?’ she asked, as they arrived at the door bearing the brass nameplate of the detective chief inspector.

She tapped and entered.

‘Sit, both of you.’

They did so.

‘Update, Stone,’ Woody said, glancing her way.

She reiterated everything they had just noted on the board downstairs.

He nodded and then looked from her to Bryant. ‘I wanted to speak to you both. This case has the potential to get complicated if it becomes known where the body was found. The facility is still a closely guarded secret, and I don’t want it to be us who lets it out.’

Was that it? Kim wondered. She had worked that much out for herself.

‘And another thing…’

Of course there was.

‘I want to make sure you haven’t forgotten about the weekend.’

‘Er… the weekend?’ she asked, casting a glance at Bryant. He offered no clue.

‘The award ceremony, Stone.’

‘Oh, that. Yes, sir.’

Jesus, was that here already? She had forgotten. She was being honoured for her work on a recent kidnapping case.

Kim hated to be ungrateful, but awards were not something she craved. As ever it had been a team effort and glory hunting was not in her make-up.

If she could cut up the commendation into pieces she would offer it to her team who had worked the same hours she had without complaint. They had put their entire lives on hold for the sake of that case and had been happy to do so.

Next she would offer some to the police officers who had guarded the site for days while the forensic technicians secured the evidence once she and her team had left.

After that she would send it to the medical staff who had sewn up the girls and repaired their injuries. And then a portion for the psychologists and counsellors who would help put the kids back together again.

‘So I certainly don’t want any complaints landing on my desk between now and then.’

‘Of course not.’

Honestly, from his tone you’d think it happened all the time, she thought.

‘Forgive me for not taking your word for it, Stone. I would recommend you stick closely with Bryant on this one.’

Kim felt her toes curl inside her boots. It seemed to be the natural order of events anyway but she resented the hell out of being directed to do so.

‘Sir, if you don’t mind…’

‘It wasn’t a request, Stone.’

She stood abruptly. ‘If that’s all—’

‘Sit back down,’ he instructed. ‘Don’t sulk, Stone, it doesn’t suit you. I say this because there are some cases that require a different approach. No one doubts your skills in getting the job done but occasionally a little tact and diplomacy—’

‘With all due respect—’

‘Stone, get my right fist open,’ he said, sighing heavily.

‘Sir?’ she said, raising an eyebrow at the closed fist he held across the desk.

He looked from her face down at his clenched hand.

‘It’s a simple instruction. Get my right fist open.’

She leaned forwards and used her left hand to turn the fist upwards. She followed the length of his fingers into his palm and tried to dislodge them. She pulled at the thumb that was helping to hold the fingers in place. It didn’t move.

She took her other hand and tried to lift the thumb with her left and prise the fingers away with her right.

Nothing budged.

She let go and sat back in her chair, unsure exactly what her boss was trying to prove.

He moved the closed hand towards her colleague. ‘Bryant, get my fist open.’

Kim expected Bryant to reach out, but he stayed exactly where he was.

‘Sir, would you mind opening your fist, please?’ Bryant asked.

Magically the fingers came away and splayed apart.

Kim groaned.

‘Point proven, Stone. Same problem, two different approaches. It never occurred to you to use your mouth.’