Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(73)

‘Does the boyfriend know?’ Dawson asked.

And was she going to tell him? She heard the question in the young detective’s voice.

It was a question that had been nagging at the back of her own mind. Watching Duncan care for his girlfriend was heartening and meant that Isobel had someone but would he be quite as keen if he knew the truth? Eventually Kim had come to the conclusion that it was not her truth to share.

‘Kev, I want you asking around at local shelters and even some of our known prostitutes to see if anyone has heard of a woman named Isobel.’

‘You think she’s a whore?’

Kim’s head snapped up. ‘I’ll give you a full three seconds to rethink your terminology.’

Bryant stood before Dawson had a chance to open his mouth.

‘I’m getting coffee and Stacey’s gonna help me.’

Kim raised her eyebrows in agreement and folded her arms before the two of them had left the office.

‘How dare you? I mean how bloody dare you refer to these women or any woman with so little respect?’ she asked and then held up her hand. ‘Actually don’t even bother to answer, because this is going to be a conversation that requires no input from you, got it?’

His surprise was mixed with irritation.

‘We seem to have this same chat every investigation, and quite frankly I’ve had enough of it, Kev. You have moments of pure brilliance when I’m actually proud to have you on this team and then there are occasions when, honestly, I’m not proud at all.

‘You see, Kev, I get pissed off when you seem to apportion a different priority to a person based on your pre-judgement of them. The thing is, I couldn’t care less about whatever Isobel was or wasn’t before I met her. All I know is that I watched her moaning on the ground, fighting for breath while blood was streaming out of her head. And then I spoke to an incredibly courageous woman who has fought back from a coma, all for the pleasure of not knowing her own name.

‘So when you have the audacity to refer to her as a whore it tends to piss me off a bit. Get it?’

She could see the colour rising up his neck and that only happened when he was emotional.

‘It’s just sensitivity, Kev,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘Just think before you open your mouth, yeah?’

She heard Bryant’s cough from along the hallway. Subtle he was not.

‘Canteen isn’t open yet,’ he said, taking his seat. Stacey followed.

Of course it wasn’t. They all knew it opened at eight.

‘Guv…?’ Dawson said.

‘Yes, Kev?’

‘Do you think Isobel is a prostitute?’

Kim didn’t hesitate in answering. She’d said her piece. ‘I think she could have been. The scars on her wrist mean she’s been troubled and desperate enough at some stage to consider ending her own life. The contraction of hepatitis C could indicate she’s dabbled in prostitution at some stage to support herself.’

And it was a world where people came and went without having to clock in or out. She could easily have evaded the police but not other prostitutes. It was their business to know who was around.

‘If she has worked the street, someone will know, Kev. Do some digging on your way back to Westerley.’

‘Will do, boss. And Curtis Grant is due back there today. I want a quick chat with him. The sudden insertion of Darren James as the night-time officer seems a bit odd. And I think Curtis Grant has been at Westerley a bit more than is actually necessary this week. There’s something there that doesn’t feel right.’

‘Well stick with it, and let me know if anything jumps out.’

Stacey ceased tapping for a minute. ‘What do you want me to do about Ivor and Larry?’

Kim sighed heavily.

She knew the case was active again and belonged to Brierley Hill, yet something inside her did not want to let it go. She and her team had found out more in two days than had been discovered in three years.

They now knew that every effort had been made to remove the identities of both men. They were friends or at the very least acquaintances, and Stacey had confirmed that both were registered sex offenders.

Kim now had far less sympathy for the fact that Ivor had remained anonymous for years.

‘Do some digging on their victims, Stace. They’ve both done prison time, but it may be that someone out there doesn’t think they’ve done enough.’

‘Yeah, me for one,’ Dawson offered.

No one voiced their agreement. They didn’t need to. It was a universal opinion. As was the belief you didn’t get to go around killing people, no matter what they had done.





Sixty-Six





Isobel took a sip of the weak tea she’d been handed by the day nurse. She almost spat it onto the crisp white sheet before a hesitant smile began to form. Looked like she didn’t take sugar after all. Fact learned.

Isobel was sorry that she’d missed Marion. The sister had been true to her word and had woken her at eleven thirty, then at two a.m. and again at five, gradually lengthening the periods of sleep. She’d been woken for the last time at seven thirty by the oncoming shift.

She’d heard the staff talking, and the snippets had told her she would be moved to a different ward later today. Apparently both her short-and long-term memory abilities were showing positive signs. She had retained the fact that she preferred toast without jam and that Duncan was her boyfriend. Her physical recovery was being hailed as miraculous.