Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(87)

She didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes, I do.’

He sighed heavily. ‘Okay, but I want a team positioned no more than half a mile away and you will maintain radio contact at all times.’

‘I need to—’

‘I can add more restrictions if you say one more word.’

She quickly closed her mouth.

‘If the safety of those people is compromised for even one minute you stand down. Do you understand?’

And fuck Tracy Frost, she thought.

And if anyone had told her a few days ago she’d feel so passionately about ensuring this woman’s safety she would have laughed in their faces. Tracy had unveiled a great deal of herself this week without even realising it.

Like Kim’s own life, the existence Tracy had made for herself didn’t count for much in the opinion of others. They both had a job into which they poured everything they had. Neither of them were married or had children… but whatever Tracy’s life was, it was hers and Kim was determined to bring her back to it.

In her logical mind she knew that wasn’t what her boss had meant. He didn’t want anything to happen to Tracy Frost, but it was always a case of safety by numbers. If one had to be sacrificed to save more then that was the equation you chose.

Only problem was, Kim had never been any good at maths.





Eighty





Oh, Mummy, it’s my very favourite part of the day. I love teatime soooooo much, and I know you did too.

I would choose the dolls to come to our tea parties. I would get them all clean and ready, and you would prepare the food.

Didn’t we have such lovely cakes for tea. You would sometimes try new ones for a treat, but there were some that always stayed the same.

Now and again in the summertime we had jelly and ice cream. We laughed at the wobble as you took it from the fridge. I would touch it with my fingertip to see if it bounced back. And if it did it was ready.

Do you remember when I lied, Mummy? I said it was done, and it wasn’t, but I was impatient for the strawberry flavour that made my mouth water as you opened the fridge door.

You put a spoon into the dish to divide up the portion. Instead of dancing in the bowl when it landed it splodged and splashed all over the counter. I held my breath, so sure you would be angry with me. But you weren’t. You laughed as the mess disappeared beneath a handful of kitchen roll. Of course you laughed. We were playing your favourite game.

I love every part of playing with my friends, Mummy, but this is the part I like the best.

It’s just so sad when they have to go. But they do have to go, Mummy. Just like you had to go. I loved you, but I hated you. I loved our life together when it was just us, but you let the rest of the world in. Until then I was just your best little girl.

We tried to block them out again, didn’t we? We tried to return to our own little world, just the two of us.

You pretended that one day at school never happened. And so did I.

You gave me books to read and exercises to do and everything went back to how it had been before. Almost.

The faces and laughter still haunted my dreams, but at least I had you.

Until my body began to change. There were areas I wanted to touch, explore, understand, but I didn’t, because I knew you would know.

But the hormones you fed me could only prevent so much.

I called you the morning it happened.

My willy had leaked in the night, and I didn’t know if it was broken.

The look on your face broke my heart. The years in between fell away as I watched your face crumple with disgust. I was back on the floor looking up at my tormentors.

I moved towards you, and you moved away, sending daggers into my soul. You didn’t want to touch me, as though I was infected. I suppose to you I was. But my only affliction was being a boy.

All day you looked at me accusingly. As though adolescence was somehow my fault. And with every passing moment the child disappeared and an angry young man emerged.

Suddenly I had nowhere to belong, and I was no longer your little girl.

That expression could never be undone. Your betrayal was worse than theirs, Mummy.

Because you had made me this way.

And so, just like the rest, you had to die.





Eighty-One





Tracy knew she couldn’t hold herself much longer. The half glasses of milk throughout the day were now backing up and filling her bladder.

She knew those innocuous little drinks contained whatever he was using to drug her. It had been a while since the last one and so the thoughts seemed clearer in her head. Easier to hold on to.

She squirmed in her seat uncomfortably, terrified the urine would come out of her.

She had no clue how much time had passed since he had last been in the room, gently bathing her. And she had no idea what was to come next.

She was sure she had been sliding in and out of consciousness. Her mother’s face had drifted in and out of her mind. Always smiling, always welcoming.

Tracy felt a pang of regret course through her that translated to physical pain somewhere in her chest area. She had allowed a stranger to destroy the bond they’d once had.

She had never liked her stepfather, and he had never liked her. She wasn’t sure which of those facts had been made evident first. They had tolerated each other for the sake of her mother.