Evil Games (13 page)

It wasn’t ideal. Kim wanted to ask her own questions in her own way, but she got the feeling it was this or nothing.

‘Okay, clear.’

‘Right, is there anything in particular that you want me to ask?’

Kim nodded and spoke without hesitation.

‘Yes, I want to know if the other person in that room was their mother.’

TWENTY-FOUR

Kim was pleased to see that the girls had been kept together. She suspected it would only be a matter of days until they were reunited with their mother. With Wendy Dunn having been cleared of any involvement, the decision to reunite the family would be imminent.

Although small, the room held two single beds separated by a bedside table. A small wardrobe and dressing table completed the furnishings. Kim found the room far less stark than the ones she had stayed in as a child. One simple word had driven every decision on furnishing and decoration: functional.

These white walls were decorated with a painting of red and green Ivy that travelled around the room. The bedding and pillows were a mismatch of Disney characters.

The girls sat on the floor between the two beds, both dressed in onesies. Daisy was a Dalmatian and Louisa an owl. The air was permeated with the smell of soap and shampoo from their freshly washed hair.

Suddenly, Kim’s heart ached. For a split second before she’d noticed them, Daisy’s expression had been open-mouthed and joyful as she entertained her sister with a teddy bear in shorts.

But now the face was closed and Kim understood it. However horrendous Daisy’s life had been, it had been familiar. And although fearful, she had known the people around her. There had been constants: her mother, her friends, her possessions. And now all of that had been replaced with strangers and constant questions continually returning her to the memories.

Kim hated that she was responsible for inflicting further pain.

‘Hi girls, what are you playing?’ Elaine asked, sitting on the floor.

Kim noted that she sat close to the girls but not too close. She made sure that there was less space between the two girls than between them and her, placing her firmly on the outside of their circle, without threat.

Kim stood in the doorway as Daisy’s eyes gazed upon her.

‘This lady is a friend of mine. Just pretend she’s not here. She’s not going to ask you any questions or do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable, okay?’

Daisy looked away, unconvinced and Kim didn’t blame her.

‘Daisy, I just want to ask a couple of questions if that’s okay.’

Daisy glanced at her sister who looked at everyone in the room.

‘Sweetheart, I want you to think back to when you were downstairs.’

Kim noticed the psychologist didn’t name the room specifically or use any words that would force the child’s memory. Daisy had the freedom to travel there herself.

The child blinked furiously but she offered no response. The teddy bear remained gripped in her hand.

‘Sweetie, was there anyone else in the room?’

Daisy glanced at her sister but offered no response.

‘Sweetie, did your mommy ever come down to the basement?’

Again the glance at her sister.

Shit, Kim realised, that had been the threat. The bastard had told her that if she ever told the truth something bad would happen to her sister. And she was still fearful of that now. An older sister protecting her sibling. Kim got it. She had been the older sister, only by a few minutes, but she would have protected Mikey with her life.

Kim felt the hope draining away. No wonder she wouldn’t speak, and Kim would push it no further. She stepped forward to tap Elaine on the shoulder. It was over. She would not cause this girl any more pain.

As her hand hovered over Elaine’s shoulder, Daisy turned and glared at her and Kim stopped dead.

Her eyes were beseeching, her mouth tense. Daisy was trying to tell her something.

She appraised the girl from head to toe and the simplicity of the truth stared her in the face.

Kim smiled at the girl and nodded her head. She got it.

Her words were gentle when she spoke. ‘Elaine, ask her again.’

Elaine turned to look at her.

‘Please.’

Elaine turned back towards Daisy who now stared straight ahead.

‘Daisy, was your mummy ever in the basement?’

The teddy bear’s head moved from side to side.

‘Daisy, was there a man in the room with you and your dad?’

The teddy bear’s head moved backwards and forwards.

‘Daisy, was it a man that you knew?’

Kim held her breath.

The teddy bear said yes.

TWENTY-FIVE

Alex started the BMW as she saw the black Golf pull out of the side street that led onto the Wordsley Road. Her furtive observations had uncovered that the female detective was unmarried and without children. The fact that the woman was psychologically damaged she’d assessed during their first meeting, and although that information in itself was enough to pique her interest, she needed more.

The detective inspector was providing a welcome distraction while she waited for news on Barry. And she knew for sure it would come.

She allowed two cars to move out in front to put some distance between the two of them.

She had discovered all she needed to know about the detective’s professional life. Kimberley Stone excelled at her job and had been promoted quickly. She had an inordinately high success rate with solving cases and despite her lack of social skills, was quite well respected.

What Alex needed was another clue and knowing the subject would not come to her voluntarily, yet, she was forced to be a little more creative. The only way to further this research was to follow the woman on a Saturday afternoon to establish what she did when she wasn’t being a high-achieving detective inspector and that journey had currently landed her outside a florist in Old Hill.

Alex was intrigued when Kim exited the shop with a bouquet of lilies and carnations. The detective didn’t strike her as the flower-giving type.

Alex eased into gear and remained a few cars behind as she followed the Golf over a couple of islands towards the outskirts of Rowley Regis.

The only two places of substance were a small hospital and the Powke Lane Cemetery. An accidental meeting was far easier to engineer in the latter.

As though bending to Alex’s will, the Golf entered the cemetery at the entrance directly off the island. Alex took the earlier exit and headed up towards the hospital to put a little distance between herself and the detective.

She passed around the hospital car park and exited. As she drove slowly back down the road that ran alongside the cemetery, she located where the Golf was parked.

She stopped outside the gates and headed in, immediately spotting the figure clad in black walking up the hill. Alex appraised the area and chose a row of headstones that stood between where the detective was headed and where the Golf was parked. Perfect. The woman would have to pass Alex to return to her car.

She picked a gravestone and stood before it. The black marble was unfettered by flowers or ornaments, a good indication that she wouldn’t be inconvenienced by actual grieving relatives.

She couldn’t help the intrigue she felt for Kimberley Stone. There was a remoteness in those dark, vampiric eyes. Alex was often able to get a snapshot of a personality in a few seconds. She studied the minute details of non-verbal communication, which was lucky as the woman had barely spoken during their first meeting. She hadn’t been able to deduce much, but someone so reserved had experienced trauma and pain, and that made the woman interesting.

Alex knew she would have to be at her most manipulative against the calculated intelligence she sensed in the detective but she also knew she’d win eventually. She always did.

The figure started moving, so Alex put her plan into action. Leaning down, she placed a small pebble inside her right shoe. She timed her exit from the row of gravestones and started limping up the hill, meeting the detective halfway. Alex took a gamble and kept her head down.

‘Doctor Thorne?’

Alex raised her head and hesitated briefly, pretending to try to place the woman who had interrupted her deep thoughts.

‘Detective Inspector, of course,’ she said, offering her hand.

The other woman shook her outstretched hand for the briefest of seconds.

‘How is Ruth doing? Can I ask that?’

The detective burrowed her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans and Alex had the impression that the physical contact was being wiped away on the inner lining.

‘She’s been charged with murder, no bail.’

Alex smiled sadly. ‘Yes, I heard that on the news. I meant, how is she?’

‘Scared.’

Alex realised this was going to be difficult. The woman was more closed than she’d expected. ‘You know, I’ve thought about what you said as you were leaving my office.’

‘And?’

No apology, no backtracking. No attempt to explain the harsh words or pretence that they had been misconstrued. She liked this woman’s style.

Alex moved from one foot to the other, pained. She looked around and saw a bench ten feet away. ‘Could we sit for a moment?’ she asked, hobbling towards it. ‘I twisted my ankle yesterday.’

The detective followed and sat at the other end of the bench. Her body language screamed ‘get on with it’, as Alex had suspected. People stayed longer if you got them sitting down. The reason every venue imaginable made room for a coffee shop.

‘I went over some of my notes, searching for any clue I might have missed during our sessions. I looked for any indication of her intention, but there was nothing. Except …’

Alex hesitated, and for the first time she saw a flicker of interest. ‘Except, maybe I should have realised that she wasn’t responding as quickly as she should have. She was making little effort to move forward, and although it’s not a form of treatment that can be worked to a particular timescale, looking back, I think perhaps she was fighting the process a little.’

‘Oh.’

Bloody hell, this woman was hard work. Alex tipped her head. ‘You think I failed, don’t you?’

The detective said nothing.

‘May I explain my position or is this matter completely closed to you?’

The woman shrugged and continued to look forward. The fact that the detective was not yet back in her car told Alex there was some residual curiosity. The woman was still sitting here for a reason.

‘The mental health community doesn’t view damaged psyches the way other people do. Take yourself; you think that someone like Ruth can enter therapy and be completely restored to normality in a specific, scheduled timescale: a rape victim takes four months, a bipolar sufferer ten months, a victim of sexual abuse two years. It’s not a shopping list.’

Alex looked for a reaction to the triggers she’d mentioned but saw none. Her trauma lay elsewhere.

‘As a psychiatrist, I accept that people are broken. Psychologically, some of us are injured for a short period of time following a loss.’ She looked over at the gravestone of good old Arthur, and swallowed bravely. ‘And we find a way back, never to normality, but we mend as best we can.’

‘Who’s over there?’ the detective asked, without finesse or apology for the directness of the question.

Alex sighed deeply. ‘You saw the photos on my desk. My family, killed three years ago in a car crash.’ Alex’s voice broke on the last few words. She could sense the woman’s discomfort. She raised her head and stared forward. ‘Grief does strange things to you.’ Alex thought she saw a reaction and pressed on. Any response just whetted her appetite for more and she had plenty of heat-seeking missiles in her pocket. ‘I don’t think one ever truly comes to terms with a loss.’

The woman offered no encouragement but Alex persevered anyway.

‘I lost a sister very young.’

Aah, a noticeable bristle. Now they were getting somewhere. ‘We were very close, almost best friends. There was only two years between us.’

The lack of response or encouragement to carry on was infuriating. Alex decided she needed to give them something in common.

‘After she drowned, my sleeping patterns changed drastically. I’ve never slept for more than three to four hours a night. I’ve been tested, examined, prodded and monitored. For my trouble, I got a nice name for my condition but no cure.’

Truthfully, Alex slept for seven hours solidly every night but the hours parked outside this woman’s house indicated that the detective did not.

‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be talking like this. I’m sure you want to get back to your family.’

The woman beside her shrugged. Still she hadn’t engaged verbally and yet she remained on the bench.

Alex laughed ruefully and toyed nervously with the belt on her jacket. ‘Even psychiatrists sometimes need someone to talk to. Loss changes us all. I’ve learned to fill the long hours of the day productively. I write up notes, research, use the Internet, but sometimes it feels like the night will never end.’

A slight nod. Every reaction, however small, told Alex something.

She noticed a small change in the demeanour of her companion. The body had turned slightly in on itself, like a sandwich left uncovered. It could have been an effort to protect herself against the biting wind, but Alex knew otherwise.

She decided on a no-lose gamble.

‘May I ask who …?’

‘Nice chatting, Doc. See you later.’

Alex watched as the detective strode back to her car, got into the Golf and sped out of the grounds.

She smiled as she removed the stone from her shoe and headed up the hill. The woman’s actions in beating a hasty retreat were as significant as a lengthy conversation. Alex had learned plenty and was beginning to get the measure of her opponent.

Detective Inspector Kim Stone was socially inept. She lacked the manners that if not naturally present could easily be learned, if required. She was driven and intelligent. It was possible she had been sexually abused but she had definitely experienced tragedy and loss. She didn’t enjoy physical contact and didn’t care who knew it.