Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(82)

Placed at the curve of each hair clip was a jagged heart. He slipped them both into her hair to hold back her fringe.

‘That’s better – now I can see your face,’ he said, tipping his head. ‘Now you’re ready to play.’

The tenderness in his voice brought fresh tears to Tracy’s eyes.

She knew she was being prepared to die.





Seventy-Five





‘I’ve not been here before,’ Bryant said, turning the car into a car park that hugged half of the two-storey building.

The Elms formed part of the Dudley and Walsall Mental Health Partnership. This particular building focussed on Child and Adolescent Mental Health Services, otherwise known as CAMHS.

‘Do social workers operate out of here?’

Kim shrugged. ‘Not sure, but this is where Stacey said she’s working.’

The double doors opened automatically into a functional annex with plastic chairs around the perimeter. A glass window fronted a general office area behind.

Kim approached it and tapped on the window. A second too late she saw the bell that said ‘Ring me’.

A man in his early twenties with hair over his eyes approached the window.

‘Can I help?’ he said through the diamond of air holes drilled into the glass.

‘Valerie Wood – she’s expecting us,’ Kim said, holding up her badge to the window.

The male looked neither impressed nor concerned. She reminded herself this was a building that dealt with troubled adolescents.

He headed to the rear of the office and made a call. He nodded a couple of times and then made a waving motion their way, indicating they should take a seat.

Kim stepped away from the window but paced around the space.

This didn’t feel like any of the facilities she’d visited as a child. But she knew it was. The processes didn’t change all that much. Get it out, talk about it, you’ll feel better afterwards.

Wanna bet? Kim had always thought. She had always chosen silence.

A woman used a card hanging around her neck to key herself out of the main building and into the annex.

Kim guessed her to be late fifties with blonde curly hair that lived close to her head. Her face was devoid of make-up and a few deep wrinkles were etched around her mouth and eyes. A small gap showed between her front teeth as she smiled.

‘Valerie Wood, how can I help you?’

So Stacey had asked if she had time to see them but hadn’t told her what it was about.

‘Do you recall a case concerning a male named Graham Studwick?’ Kim asked.

Valerie’s eyes widened. ‘Back in my social-worker days, yes, why?’

‘Could we ask you a few questions?’

She considered for a moment and then nodded. ‘Come outside, I’m due a smoke break anyway.’

Kim followed as the woman headed outside and removed a small box and tiny lighter from the back pocket of her jeans.

‘Terrible habit,’ she said, drawing on the cigarette. ‘I give up after every one.’

‘So you were a social worker?’ Kim asked, just to understand the relationship between this woman and their suspect better.

‘In a former life – but it wasn’t for me. You have to learn to switch off, and if you can’t learn that, you don’t last long. I didn’t last long. Graham was actually one of my last cases and definitely one of the reasons I made the move to psychology.’

‘Why?’

‘Because that kid needed to talk. He needed more than a social worker. He needed a therapist. He needed a friend, a confidante… but with thirty-nine cases you can’t be all those things. Oh, and I wasn’t all that good at hiding my feelings around neglectful parents.’

Kim fought a smile back into her mouth. She suspected she would suffer the same issues in that profession.

‘At what stage did you get involved?’ Kim asked.

‘How much do you know?’ Valerie asked, demonstrating the reason Kim had never done well with psychologists as a child.

‘We know that Graham suffered a horrifically embarrassing episode at school. Is that when you met him?’ Kim asked.

Valerie shook her head. ‘I met him when he was eleven years old. I know of the incident at school, but social services weren’t called in then – God only knows why not – but he was taken out of the school system and taught at home by his mother. He never went to school again.’

‘Is that legal?’ Bryant asked.

She nodded. ‘Oh yeah, home education is legal in all parts of the UK and always has been. It’s as simple as deregistering your child, normally a simple letter, and then a proposal to the local authority of how you intend to educate your child.’

‘But surely there are checks that the national curriculum is being met?’ he pushed.

‘It’s not the responsibility of the state to educate your child, only to provide a suitable facility, should you require one. A parent is obliged to provide a suitable education for their child during compulsory school age. Schools are available to be used, but if a parent thinks they can do a better job they are within their rights to do so.’

‘You’re telling me that Graham’s mother was able to remove him from the school system with no supervision at all?’ Kim asked incredulously.