Play Dead (D.I. Kim Stone, #4)(98)

She moved backwards, further away from the light of the torch but also further away from the graves.

The rain was beating down upon them both. Kim felt it had entered every orifice in her body.

‘You went back to the hospital to finish the job, but you couldn’t get in. You said you were her boyfriend, but she was being monitored too closely. You couldn’t do it. And when I came you just embellished the story. And because we had you we didn’t look for any other relatives or friends who would disprove your story of knowing her.’

He was listening intently, appearing to enjoy his own cleverness.

Kim continued to move one step at a time, but he had gained on her by a foot. Her vision blurred as she raised her hand to wipe the rain from her eyes.

‘Catherine has been helping you bury the bodies, hasn’t she? You were in this together since your days at Bromley?’

The tip of her toe met with something hard. It was the site radio, but Duncan was no more than two feet away.

Kim turned it with her foot and then leaned her weight on it, hoping she was near the transmission button.

‘You made a pact that you would help each other seek revenge on the people who made your lives hell.’

She released her foot. No response. She had not activated the microphone.

‘I know what they did to you when you were Graham. I understand how they hurt you, but they didn’t deserve to die,’ she said as she used her toe to push the radio over. She rested her weight on it again.

‘Of course they had to die,’ he said, smiling. His face took on a childlike innocence as though there was no other way. ‘And so will the rest, once I’ve taken care of you…’

‘How many?’ Kim asked. She’d thought Tracy would be the last.

‘Twenty-seven people ridiculed me that day,’ he said, taking another step closer.

‘Why the wait between Louise and Jemima?’ she asked.

‘There has to be a method, Inspector. It has to be done in order of hate and whose voice I heard loudest, whose face was most in my dreams.’

Kim realised that her second attempt to activate the radio had been unsuccessful, but she had to keep him talking.

‘You killed the two men that held Catherine captive, didn’t you?’ Kim asked, releasing the button again.

Silence met her ears until Duncan broke it. He was no more than a foot away from her.

‘We needed each other to get what we wanted,’ he said.

Kim hit the radio again with her foot and gave it a good stamp. She knew she was running out of time, but her colleagues would never hear her cries through the storm.

She stepped back and the radio crackled into life.

‘Boss, you all in order?’ Stacey’s voice sounded.

Duncan looked down to the voice that had come from her feet. Kim knew she would not be able to find the transmit button again to reply, but her failure to answer would bring assistance from the rest of her team.

‘Boss, please confirm all in order,’ Stacey cried.

The second call acted as a catalyst and Duncan lunged towards her.

In the darkness, she saw the glint of a knife.

She tried to duck away from his grasp, but his left hand made contact with her neck.

‘You are not going to spoil this for me, bitch,’ he cried. ‘I’ve been waiting all my life to set this straight.’

Kim couldn’t keep track of the location of the knife.

‘Don’t you fucking understand? I have to do this.’

Every word increased the pressure of his hand on the back of her neck but the words ignited a fuse within her. He had to do it. He hadn’t done it yet. Tracy was still alive. Wherever the hell she was, he hadn’t killed her yet.

She tried to prise herself away from his hand but feared for the knife.

He was struggling to hold her with one hand and keep hold of the weapon at the same time.

She gathered her strength and barged him backwards.

Graham fell onto his back, his legs flailing for balance. She turned and wrestled the knife from his grip. As soon as the knife was freed he used both hands to throw her to the ground. Her shoulder met with a puddle that sent rainwater splashing into her face and she tried to shake it away.

He sat astride her, fumbling in the grass. He leaned down onto her body, trying to find the blade around her shoulders and head. The position reminded her of when she was riding the Ninja. His weight bore down on her.

The stems of the flowers bit into her back.

Kim knew that if his hand found that knife she was dead.

The weight of his body prevented her from moving her own. She kicked and thrashed her legs, but his thighs had her pinned at the waist. She had no weapon and only her hands free to use.

His hands were planted to the ground either side of her head. One arm was being used to keep him stable as the other hand searched for the knife.

There was only one thing she could do.

She thrashed her head against his supporting arm. The full weight of his torso landed on top of her.

Kim gasped as the wind was rushed from her lungs, but she had to make her move.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled his head down, burying his face into her breastbone.

She adjusted her arms around the back of his neck, locking him in a twisted lovers’ embrace.

He tried to turn his head to escape, but she held firm. His position on top of her meant there was nothing he could use to lever himself back up to a sitting position. She pulled his face right into her chest and held him close.