Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(39)

She recited the number she’d keyed in.

‘That’s the number of our victim two whose name is Isobel Jones. Update the board and start looking at 157 Plaza building in Erdington. She may have worked there. Also check the electoral roll around Wolverhampton – there would be a husband listed too. And check the logs and see if we got a call yesterday morning from a Duncan Adams. I know how that sounds, but it’s all we’ve got.’

‘Jeez, boss…’

‘I said I know, Stace. You’ve got a lot on your plate so if you need me to call Dawson back…’

‘Boss, I’m perfectly capable of doing my job, but I called you because there’s something you need to know.’

A beeping sounded in her ear. She pulled the phone away and checked the screen.

‘Hang on a sec, Stace, I’ve got Kev trying to get me.’

She switched calls to Dawson. Whatever he had to tell her took priority. He was at site.

‘What is it, Kev?’ Kim said into her phone. ‘We’re on our way back to West—’

‘Yeah, boss. You might want to take a detour,’ he said.

‘Why?’ she asked, putting him on loudspeaker.

‘Something a bit strange going on over here. It’s a bit chaotic at the minute. Machinery is arriving. Identifications are being checked. Looks like Woody has blown a month’s budget on this one…’

‘Kev…?’

‘Sorry, boss. The phone has been going mental. The press has discovered the facility and the shit is hitting the proverbial fan.’

Kim frowned at Bryant, who had glanced to his left. Unfortunate but not wholly unexpected. Only a fool would have expected it to stay secret for much longer.

‘There was so much going on that I didn’t even notice at first…’

‘Notice what?’ Kim asked. Whatever he’d missed sounded important.

‘She took a call – I was right beside her. She screamed “No comment” and slammed the phone down. Next time I looked she was no longer here.’

‘Kev, you’re not making a whole lot of—’

‘It’s Catherine Evans, boss. She seems to have just disappeared.’





Thirty-Two





The uneasy feeling in Kim’s stomach did not lessen the closer they got to Catherine’s house.

It began as soon as Dawson had told her that Catherine had fled her place of work and continued to swirl when she had returned to her conversation with Stacey.

The fact that Catherine Evans was living under a false identity had scattered Kim’s thoughts in a dozen directions. Whatever had happened must have been serious and how the hell was it linked to a call from the press?

All she knew now was that she needed to find Catherine and get answers to some of these questions.

Bryant wound the car through the shiny residential estate that had caused controversy on the edge of the green belt that bordered West Hagley. Affordable housing had been the marketing strategy for the sprawling housing complex that had wiped out three fields and a small wooded area.

So far Bryant had navigated the two of them through the outer circle of detached, spacious homes with double garages and mock pillars. Properties valued in the mid three hundreds eventually gave way to single-garage dwellings with half the drive space, which in turn guided them to the affordable housing buried in the centre of the estate.

These houses made no attempt to stand out from each other. Not one facet identified them from their neighbour or the strip of properties over the road.

The house at which they stopped was a two-storey semi-detached property formed of brick that was an unnatural red.

‘Compact and bijou,’ Bryant observed as they got out of the car.

The narrow, one-car driveway held the Ford Focus that belonged to Catherine Evans.

Kim skirted around it and stepped onto the border between the two properties.

‘Start knocking and I’ll take a look around the back,’ she said, leaving Bryant at the front door.

The side of the house was not fenced, and she had free access to the rear of the house.

As she turned the corner she saw the reason. A CCTV camera was fixed to the corner of the property, covering the walkway to the side of the house.

Well, Catherine would certainly know they were there.

Another camera was fixed to the rear wall, peering down at the back door. It was a small box-like property but covered by two expensive CCTV cameras. Why?

Kim initially wondered if it was some kind of neighbour dispute, but the placement of the cameras said otherwise. The protection was on the approach and entrances.

Catherine was watching for people coming in.

The small garden was grassed without borders or plants. A five-foot fence separated it from the property next door and the property behind.

Kim’s path was unencumbered by garden furniture. At this time of year any garden forays were normally obstructed by barbecues, lawn chairs and parasols. But here there was nothing.

Against the fence was an outside storage box about five feet long by two feet high. Beside it was a Flymo lawnmower.

Kim could see straight into the house through the patio door.

Having learned from Bryant in the past, she fought her natural instinct to find something heavy to smash against the glass.

‘No answer yet, guv. But she must be here,’ Bryant said, appearing beside her.