Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(93)

‘But you’re the boss,’ she said.

‘Yeah, and sometimes the boss has to come out late at night and get his hands dirty so we don’t lose a valuable contract.’

He stood with his behind resting against the sink, close to the door. ‘Just tried Darren again to see if he was feeling better, but his phone’s off.’

‘Surely you didn’t need to cover the shift yourself?’ Stacey asked doubtfully.

He shrugged. ‘Probably not, but I would feel even more responsible if the failure to meet the contract is because of Darren… but that’s what you get when you employ family, I suppose.’

Stacey was confused. Throughout her investigation she had not uncovered any familial relationships.

‘You and Darren are related?’

He rolled his eyes upwards. ‘Oh yeah, the irritating little shit is my cousin.’

Stacey wondered how the hell she could have missed such a connection.

Curtis Grant smiled widely and headed towards the kitchen.

‘Now, how about I put the kettle on?’ he asked. ‘It looks like it’s going to be a long night.’





Eighty-Seven





Kim tried to ignore the eerie feeling that was stealing over her.

The sudden lightning fork that had split the sky right in front of them had startled her and Catherine, appearing within minutes of them leaving the safety of the light circle at the top of the site.

She suspected the sensation in her stomach was not helped by the darkness and the knowledge that she was walking amongst dead bodies.

Singly, Kim could deal with either one quite happily, but perhaps it was the combination of both. Yet there was something inside her that wanted to take these bodies home. Not to her home but to Keats, where they would be treated with respect and then buried properly.

‘So how are you doing?’ Kim finally asked of the woman walking beside her.

Catherine held the torch, shining a path of light before them.

It was impossible not to notice the change in the woman since the last time they’d met. Bryant had done a double take and Dawson had looked more than once.

But it was more than the blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders instead of the functional ponytail tagged to the back of her head. It was more than the subtle pink veneer that coloured her nails. Or the faint touch of lipstick and blusher that emphasised her cheekbones.

The most striking change in the woman came from within. Kim had watched as she’d offered refreshments to everyone present. Catherine had moved and spoken with a confidence that added presence to her form. The spine was straighter and the shoulders pulled back.

Kim wondered if the woman had any idea just how far into the background she had allowed herself to fade.

Kim had the feeling that if the professor introduced her as ‘maggot lady’ again he might expect a suitable response.

‘Couldn’t be better, Inspector,’ Catherine answered. ‘The press have gone and I don’t have to hide… or leave. And that is primarily because of you.’

Kim said nothing but Catherine continued.

‘I don’t know how you kept my name out of the newspapers, but I am incredibly grateful that you did. My life has changed so much in the last few days. I feel like I can breathe again, even live again.’ She offered a soft chuckle and the sound was attractive and light. ‘Yes, I know how corny that sounds, but for the first time in years I actually feel free, as though I can now be myself. Do you understand?’

Kim thought she did. Although the difference in the woman was incredible, following their one brief conversation, Kim couldn’t help but think there was more to it after the horrific ordeal Catherine had suffered as a child. The terror of her captors returning had shaped every decision she had made throughout her life. The fear had been so great she had preferred life within a closed psychiatric unit than with parents who loved her. No, these things were not erased with one short conversation, but it was not something Kim had the time to explore right now. Maybe once their killer was safely behind bars.

‘How much further?’ Kim asked, following the direction of the torchlight.

‘Only seventy or eighty feet and we’ll be back with Jack and Vera,’ Catherine said.

Kim wondered how the hell she knew.

The radio on Catherine’s belt cackled into life.

‘Professor and Bryant to Stacey.’

While using the police radio the appropriate call signs from the phonetic alphabet would need to be adopted, but they had agreed that for use with the on-site radio system names would suffice.

‘Go ahead,’ Stacey answered.

‘We are at location one. Nothing to report.’

‘Understood.’

Three steps later and the familiar shape of the oak tree loomed ahead. The torchlight fell on the roses at its base. It felt as though weeks had passed since Kim had first noted the courtesy of the grave marker from the staff at Westerley.

‘Almost there,’ Catherine said.

Again the static sounded on the radio.

‘Jameel and Dawson at location two. Nothing to report. Over and out.’

They both heard as Stacey acknowledged the transmission before the radio once more plunged them into silence.

Suddenly an unfamiliar sound met Kim’s ears. She stopped walking and placed a hand on Catherine’s arm.