Lost Girls (35 page)

D
awson stood
at the front door and hesitated before he knocked. He understood gang culture more than he cared to admit and it had cost him a memory that was ingrained in his brain.

Two days after his fifteenth birthday a group of lads a year older had suddenly stopped calling him ‘lard-arse', ‘pie-face' and every other name reserved for fat kids. Instead, they had offered him a seat in the common room and a smile. He'd been invited to meet them in Cradley Heath High Street after school. It had been the happiest afternoon he'd ever spent in class.

They'd been waiting for him outside the market, full of smiles and back slaps. For a whole ten minutes they had chatted around him but he'd felt part of their gang, their crew.

Then suddenly he'd noticed the ringleader, Anthony, nod towards an old woman walking with the aid of two sticks. Two of the four kids had strolled towards the woman and kicked the right stick out of her hand. As she'd stumbled and tried to keep her balance, Anthony ran by and ripped the handbag from her right shoulder.

Dawson had followed his instincts and started to run too. By the time he'd reached the woman she was lying on the ground. Something had forced him to look into her face, terrified she'd banged her head and died. He had looked down into eyes that were filled with terror. And in that brief second he knew that woman's life would never be the same again.

It was only when he'd reached the safety of home that Dawson had finally understood why he'd been asked along. He was fat. He couldn't run as fast as the others so anyone chasing would have caught him first.

The shame had burned within him for months but had lessened in line with his BMI. But not the memory of the fear in the old woman's eyes. That had stayed with him for good.

He understood why Dewain Wright had been part of the gang, but he'd been betrayed in the worst possible way.

Dawson took a deep breath and knocked three times.

The door opened slowly.

Shona Wright stood before him with real fear in her eyes.

‘May I speak with you and your father?'

There was no attitude and no swagger this time.

He followed her to the lounge where two little girls sat cross-legged on the floor. A mini picnic had been laid out while they watched the television.

‘Rosi, Marisha, go to your room,' Shona said, ushering them out.

Vin sat at the far end of the sofa.

Shona stood in front of the closed door.

Dawson looked from one to the other and finally settled on Vin.

‘I know what you did to your son,' he said, simply.

Vin stared at him for the longest minute before dropping his head into his hands.

‘Dad …?' Shona said from the door.

Dawson looked to the girl's father to see if any explanation was forthcoming. The broad shoulders were shaking gently and tears fell to the ground.

He turned to Shona. He could see that her mind had accepted the truth but her heart had not yet caught up.

Dawson sighed and spoke quietly. ‘Shona, it was your father that contacted Lyron. He told him that Dewain was still alive.'

‘Don't be ridiculous,' Shona spat. ‘You lot are bloody mental.' She tapped her temple. ‘Bloody stupid.'

Dawson looked at her father. She followed suit.

She stared at his slumped shoulders, waiting for him to refute the words. Her head began to shake slowly from side to side. But Dawson could see that it was starting to sink in.

He gave them a moment to digest what he'd said.

He had originally thought that Lauren was responsible for passing on the information that Dewain was still alive, and even more so once he'd discovered she was now with Kai. The girl was not bright enough to have done so deliberately and didn't care enough about Dewain to have done so by accident.

Lauren was a girl who just wanted to live on the wild side. Her suburban shackles had been loosened by a foray into gang culture on Hollytree. As one cheap thrill was murdered there was another waiting to take its place.

Dawson had realised the real culprit when he'd returned to the Timmins' house after the girls had been found. Stephen Hanson had offered to take Nicholas from his wife while she climbed into the car. She had refused and clutched her son closely to her body. With one of her children missing, the grieving mother had held even more tightly to the one she still had.

‘He did it for you girls, Shona,' Dawson explained. ‘While Dewain was alive you were all in danger. They would never have left you alone. Your lives would have been more horrendous than ever. The whole family would have been targeted and your father knew that.'

The sobbing from the corner grew louder.

‘He was never gonna recover, Sho,' Vin cried, raising his head. Mucus and tears mixed together and streaked his face. The voice was tortured and hoarse. ‘My boy was gone. Kept alive by machines and tubes. His brain was dead, they said.'

Vin howled and Kev would swear it was the sound of a breaking heart.

‘I begged and begged to be moved but they wouldn't move us, Sho. We weren't high risk and Lyron would have found us wherever we went. I couldn't risk losing you all. Oh my boy, my brave, brave boy …'

Shona fought with the emotions storming around inside her. She ran to her father and knelt on the floor. His arms immediately encircled her and they sobbed together.

Right now, this minute, Dawson felt no triumph in the conclusion of this case. Vin Wright had been faced with an impossible choice. Trapped in an environment where he was powerless to protect all his children, he had sacrificed his only son.

He spoke softly. ‘Mr Wright, I'll be in the hallway for a minute, but then you know what I have to do.'

‘I know … son. I know.'

The words were strangled with emotion. For once Dawson didn't flinch at being called ‘son'.

Dawson possessed enough self-awareness to know that tomorrow his sympathy would be replaced by pride. It was a case and he'd solved it. A crime had been committed and the perpetrator would be punished.

So, he was in no doubt he'd feel better tomorrow. But right now, he felt like shit.

K
im stared hard
at the plate.

It was a look that persuaded most of her colleagues to bend to her will. Unfortunately it didn't work on biscuits.

The recipe and instruction list had been taken from a website for kids and she had followed it to the letter. She was sure she had.

The website also contained pictures sent in by twelve-year-olds who were proud of their end result. Kim would not be photographing hers.

The title of the product said 'rock cakes' but hers did not look like rocks, they looked like oversize Frisbees. The dollops of mixture once placed in the oven had spread, as though trying to crawl away and escape.

Cooking was her nemesis. She had tried complex dishes that took more concentration than a Mensa quiz and the end result had spilled across the plate like a liquefied stew. She had tried simple dishes like a Victoria sponge that most kids had mastered at school. Still no joy.

Erica, her foster mother, had been a wonderful cook and had made complex dishes look simple. For Kim it was the other way around but, for the memory of the only person she'd loved as a mother, she would always continue to try.

Woody had insisted she take a few days' leave until her hand started to heal. Luckily there had been no nerve damage and only twelve stitches to sew her hand back up.

‘Please tell me you haven't been cooking again,' Bryant said, entering the kitchen. ‘You can't cook a ready meal with two hands so at fifty per cent …'

‘Bryant,' she warned.

He placed a pizza box on the countertop.

‘Want one?'

‘Yeah, good one, Kim. I'll pass.'

She took two plates from the cupboard, still clumsy with her left hand.

‘Look how considerate I am. Bought you one-handed food.'

Kim took a piece of pizza and put it onto her plate.

‘Please tell me something … anything. I'm going out of my mind.'

‘Actually there is something Woody asked me to pass on,' Bryant said with a smile.

‘Go on.'

She was desperate for news on the case.

‘You're getting a commendation.'

Kim rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, how fabulous for me.'

Bryant took out his notebook.

‘Damn it, Dawson won.'

‘Won what?'

‘The sweep on your response to that news. He got it word-perfect. To be fair, he even had the eye roll. Look, it says here, “eye roll”.'

Despite herself Kim laughed out loud.

They all knew her well enough to know her response. Commendations from her superiors did not lull her off to sleep at night but served only as a buffer for the next time she got a complaint or failed to follow procedure or didn't adhere to an order.

‘The office looks like the Chelsea Flower Show by the way. There are baskets from the girls, bouquets from the parents and Suzie's mom even sent a kidney.'

‘A what?'

‘Nah, I'm just kidding, but I'm sure she would if you asked.' Bryant shook his head and lowered his face. ‘Jesus, Kim, I wish you'd been there when she opened the door. I'll never forget the look on her face. There were tears – and I'm man enough to admit that some of them were mine.'

Kim smiled. That was what lulled her to sleep at night.

‘Suzie's since been checked over and although it's gonna take some time to build her back up slowly, she'll make a full recovery.'

Kim took a moment to enjoy that news.

‘Seriously, Kim, if you hadn't insisted on—'

‘Have you spoken to the others?'

He nodded. ‘Karen and Robert are drawing up adoption papers. They're pretty sure that Lee will give up parental rights for a small fee. And they're happy to pay.' He smiled. ‘They'll get through this. As unlikely a couple as they are, they love each other and Robert would die for that child.'

Kim thought of the brave little girl with the wild blonde hair.

‘They have a lot to be proud of.'

‘I spoke to Elizabeth this morning. She's asked Stephen to move out but she hasn't given him a date. If he plays his cards right I think she'll forgive him.'

Kim nodded her agreement. ‘Perhaps, but he'd better get ready for the change. I suspect she is not the person she was ten days ago.'

She pushed her plate away and stood. She took a pack of Colombian Gold from the cupboard. It was empty. She reached for a fresh pack.

Bryant stood. ‘Do you want me to …?'

Kim shot him a look. ‘Bryant, it's hard to floss my teeth at night. Do you wanna hang around for that?'

‘Ugh, no thanks. Fine, I'll just sit here and watch.'

Kim took a pair of scissors and then placed the packet in the crook of her elbow. Three cuts with her left hand and it was done.

‘You know, if I was stranded on a desert island do you know the one thing I'd want with me?' Bryant said.

‘What?'

‘You.'

Kim laughed as she shook the coffee into the filter. She turned and fixed him with a look.

‘So, are you being deliberately obtuse or what?'

He smirked. He knew what she wanted to hear.

‘Okay, Symes is singing like a canary. You were right about him not being involved in the first one. He didn't even know Suzie was there. If he had we both know that Suzie would be dead. That was Will's own little project.

‘Symes hasn't requested a lawyer and seems happy to do his time. I think there's a part of him that craves prison life – the regimentation, the structure. He is one seriously disturbed individual.'

Oh yeah, Kim knew that all too well.

‘Oh, and the sight in his left eye is permanently gone.'

‘I'm crying on the inside. What about Will Carter?'

‘He's blaming all this one on Helen. And won't comment on anything to do with the last one.'

Kim clenched the one fist that would move. ‘Thirteen months he had that child down there. Honestly, if I could choose one of them to torture it would be him. How could he watch her like that for all that time?'

Bryant nodded his agreement.

Kim suspected that Will had thought Suzie was dead when he left to release Emily. Only when he returned did he realise the child was still alive. There was no evidence to suggest Will was capable of hands-on murder.

Because of his intention to take Emily at a later date, Kim had to wonder if he'd decided to keep Suzie alive to play the same parents off again. And when he'd been unable to snatch Emily a second time he had kept Suzie alive as another way to make a few quid.

His refusal to talk probably meant that they would never know.

‘What about Helen?'

Bryant's jaw tensed but he kept his voice light.

‘Oh, she's claiming mental distress, post-traumatic stress, and diminished responsibility. She's quoting the entire gamut of mental health disorders all brought about by the stress of the job.'

‘You're kidding?'

‘Nah, she's got a fancy QC – but ours will be better.'

They would have to be, Kim thought.

‘And that's about it,' Bryant shrugged.

That was plenty.

‘Oh, except for the fact Kev is strutting around like he discovered the meaning of life after wrapping up the Dewain Wright case. Vin will plead guilty, by the way, no trial.'

Kim accepted the news sadly. She wanted to hate the man but couldn't. She abhorred the decision he'd made but in a twisted kind of way she understood it. Vin Wright had made seven separate requests to the council to move, but he'd been short of points to get transferred to a decent estate. It was a decision he would have to live with for the rest of his life.

Silence fell between them.

‘She was wrong, you know. Helen. Stacey told me what she said to you and she wasn't right.'

Kim nodded her understanding. The parallels the woman had drawn between the two of them had stayed in her head. And she didn't like the fact they had managed to settle there. Her left hand reached down and met the soft warm head of Barney. She knew Helen had been wrong but maybe not completely, which was something she was going to have to think about. But not now and not with Bryant.

‘Oh yeah, and did you mean what you said to Suzie about trusting me with your life?'

Kim guffawed. ‘Kids; they're so gullible. They'll believe anything.'

He smiled. ‘Yeah, that's what I thought.' He stood. ‘Almost forgot. Matt was in for his last debrief today. He asked me to give you this.'

It was a folded piece of paper.

She placed it on the breakfast bar and walked Bryant to the door.

‘I'll be round in a couple of days to make sure you're not eating your own cooking.'

‘Yeah, be sure to bring something nice.'

He laughed as he walked down the path.

She closed the door and headed back to the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee filled the room.

She looked at the unopened note from Matt, sure it was nothing good.

Every conversation between them had been a battlefield, each gaining an advantage or trying to get the last word, like a tennis match stuck at deuce.

Matt Ward was not an easy man to get along with. Every moment in his company had been a challenge; a fight.

He was exhausting and difficult, just like her.

Kim opened the note and read:

I'll pick you up at eight. No negotiation. Be ready.

Kim stared at the note for a full minute and then took a glance at the clock.

She sipped the rest of the coffee before pushing herself to her feet and smiled as she headed for the shower.

She had never refused a challenge in her life.

Tonight she was going out.