Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(51)

‘The Pianist?’ Dawson asked.

Kim wondered just how many nicknames the guy had.

‘Uggghhhh, Kev,’ Stacey admonished as her face scrunched in distaste.

‘Yes, him,’ Kim confirmed. ‘We’re looking into it and before you say another word, Kev, yes this was a Brierley Hill case, but it remains unsolved.’

‘Wasn’t gonna speak, boss,’ he said, shaking his head.

‘We can all guess that his hands were removed to avoid identification, but I learned yesterday that his pacemaker was cut out also.’

‘They have a serial number,’ Dawson observed, narrowing his eyes. Now the case had his interest.

‘Don’t those patients have to take warfarin and get monitored every six months?’ Bryant asked.

‘And second prize of the day goes to the man on my right,’ she said and then looked to Stacey who knew what to do.

‘I’ll start ringing the clinics and check for anyone that started missing appointments about three years ago.’

‘Thanks Stace, and Kev… while you’re looking through mispers anyway…’

‘Got it, boss. But there’s just one more thing.’

‘Go,’ she said, rising from the desk.

‘I appear to be the only person who didn’t win a prize.’

She looked at him meaningfully. ‘And that, Kev, should tell you something.’





Forty-Three





Oh, Mummy, do you remember THAT DAY the same way I do?

You were a year late dropping me off at school. No preschool or nursery for me. No opportunity for a young mind to familiarise itself with other young minds.

A simple lie about my birthday, and I was all yours for another year.

You didn’t think I’d find out, did you?

That morning you cried as though your heart was being torn in two. I didn’t know what was wrong, but I cried too.

You sobbed as you brushed my hair. Your fingers trembled as you formed two equal pigtails that protruded from the side of my head. You were rough as though it was my fault.

You made me breakfast and gave me my vitamins, but they weren’t vitamins at all.

I remember my socks. They were ankle socks with pink butterflies in a line around the top. I didn’t like them, but I couldn’t say so because I remembered the pinafore dress.

As we walked hand in hand I wondered if I could somehow discard them during the day and then I could blame someone else.

There were tears at the classroom, from us both. I cried because you cried and then you cried some more. I can’t remember who stopped first as the teacher pulled us apart.

The other kids looked on, laughing and pointing meanly. I sat in the corner on my own hoping that someone would talk to me and praying that no one would talk to me.

I was sure when I told you how much I hated it you would not make me go again.

Louise was my designated escort. She was so pretty. At break time it was the job of the six-year-old girl to show me around. She took me to the little girls’ toilets. I didn’t want to go in front of her but the milk from the breakfast cereal weighed heavily on my bladder.

The doors were not full length. If you crouched you could see under, and if you jumped you could see over.

I peed as quickly as I could to the sound of Louise’s excited chatter about the lunch choices.

I stood and pulled up my knickers, oblivious to the fact that the chatter had stopped and that Louise was peering over the top of the door.

She was quiet and her eyes were wide. Heat infused my face and I didn’t know why.

But I was to find out later that day.





Forty-Four





Isobel held fast to the grey. It was edging along the black like a spreading stain. She knew it was trying to claim her, but she didn’t know if it was life or death.

And she no longer cared.

Anything but the unrelenting blackness that suffocated her would be a welcome relief.

The darkness had taken everything away. It had stolen her thoughts. There was nothing upon nothing that lived in the desolate bleakness.

Send her the grey, offer her the white, show her the tunnel that would lead her away.

At times the tide of grey slowed to an agonising crawl, causing her to wonder if she’d imagined its encroaching stealth.

There was also a blurring of the edges as though her consciousness was fraying.

The blackness was not as deep, but the more she reached, the higher the panic rose in the fragmented parts, and so she waited patiently for whatever was about to come.





Forty-Five





‘You told him, didn’t you?’ Kim spat as soon as they were alone in the car. ‘You sung like a canary about where I’d be.’

Bryant shrugged. ‘I might have mentioned that you walk Barney up Clent on a Wednesday night around nine and that you park in the lower car park. Just in passing, you know.’

She swung a hard left and bounced him against the passenger door. ‘Bryant, you do realise just how deeply I resent your attempted intrusion into my private life.’

‘Ha, is that what you think I did?’ he asked, righting himself.

‘Isn’t it?’

‘Nah. Whenever we’re working on a big case you get turned all outside in. I know you don’t like Daniel Bate, so I thought this was the ideal opportunity for you to blow off a bit of steam. Basically if you’re shouting at him you’re not shouting at us.’