Play Dead (13 page)

I
sobel crawled
along the darkness of her own mind.

There was no light anywhere. The blackness was trying to consume her.

The warm sensation on her hand had disappeared. Had it ever really been there?

She wasn’t sure where her body had gone. She had the sensation of being only a head. A picture came into her mind of body parts arranged in place but unconnected.

For a moment the darkness was alight with the vision, only for it to be swallowed again.

And yet it hadn’t properly disappeared. The darkness was not as black any more. There was a greyness somewhere in the distance. The vision had left behind a trail of light. A cord for her to reach. A guide out of the dark.

But she didn’t know how to reach it. Her heart began to beat loudly in her chest as she pictured the lifeline disappearing completely and returning her to the infinity of the dark.

Please don’t go
, she cried to the grey speck that both tantalised and taunted her at the same time.
Take me with you. Don’t leave me.

Suddenly the total emptiness of the darkness was terrifying as she began to wonder what it meant.

The beeping increased and hands were touching her. Maybe they were joining her back together again.

Her heart returned to a normal rate and the speck of grey returned.

She didn’t feel quite so alone while the speck was still there.

Out of the darkness she heard a voice, words that broke through the haze. But she didn’t understand what it meant when it said, ‘One for you and one for me…’

K
im glanced at her watch
. Her companion was already ten minutes late.

She pushed away the weak coffee that had bought her a seat. The culinary offering was not the reason she’d chosen this place. A greasy shed on a Brierley Hill trading estate was not somewhere she would normally have chosen for a meeting. But Joe’s Diner was out of the way and they would not be seen.

She itched to walk out but damn it, she wanted this meeting more than the person she’d invited.

She watched as a wasp entered through the open window and landed beside the sugar bowl on the next table. She was instantly reminded of Elvis and, in turn, Catherine, who was her reason for being here.

The bell above the door tinged as the door opened.

Tracy Frost made no effort to hide the disdain as her eyes searched for and then rested on Kim.

Her long blonde hair flowed freely and the five-inch heels tottered over to where Kim sat.

Her legs were clad in black tailored trousers and her upper half in a pastel T-shirt with cuffed shoulders. A burgundy bolero was straddled over a handbag that reeked of expense.

She slid into the chair opposite and placed her handbag on her lap.

Kim didn’t blame her. She wouldn’t want her personal belongings touching the floor, or the table for that matter. Her own arm had accidentally brushed the top of the table and had almost stuck to the droplets of grease welded there.

Kim glanced at the cup of liquid that was now lukewarm.

‘Want one?’

Tracy looked at her as though she’d lost her mind. ‘Only if it comes with a tetanus shot.’

The woman at the next table overheard and offered Tracy a filthy look.

And people commented on her lack of social skills. Kim offered the woman an apologetic smile and received an even frostier glare in return.

Tracy didn’t even notice, and if she had she wouldn’t have cared. The woman’s hide was thicker than that of an old aged cow.

‘So what the hell is going on, Inspector? You call and request my attendance at a place that’s harder to find than a virgin in Dudley. When it’s normally all I can get you to do to throw a “Fuck off, Frost” my way.’

The woman at the next table shook her head with disgust. Kim guessed she was from Dudley. If they sat here long enough Kim was sure Tracy could offend everyone in the place.

Kim fought back her smile at Tracy’s observation. It was true. She despised the woman and the way she did her job, but right now she could prove useful.

‘I want to talk to you about this current case,’ Kim said.

‘Now I know you’ve bloody lost it, Stone.’

Kim sat forwards. ‘Look, this case is about to get messy. The public will be crying out for answers over the secrecy of the location. The harder I try and keep this to myself the worse it’s going to get, and the last thing I need right now is bandana-wearing, placard-carrying protestors causing a major distraction.’

‘You want to go on the record?’ Tracy asked disbelievingly.

‘Unnamed source,’ Kim said.

Tracy thought for a second. ‘Okay, but I think you’re up to something.’

Now for a bit of authenticity. ‘Tracy, you know I can’t stand the sight of you. I don’t really hide that fact, and if there was any other local crime reporter you would not be sitting here right now.’

For once, Tracy’s mouth fell open. Yeah, Kim knew this was not the way to get a favour out of someone, but she was dealing with Tracy Frost. Kim enjoyed the bewildered expression for a whole two seconds before continuing.

‘I am using you, Tracy. The story needs to come from a local paper and you’re the only person there is.’

‘Stone, I don’t trust you—’

‘Forget it,’ Kim said, pushing her chair back. ‘I’ll speak to—’

‘No… no… ’ Tracy said, grabbing her wrist.

Kim shook it free. ‘I don’t have time to keep explaining myself to you. Either get your notebook out or I’m off.’

Tracy reached into her bag and took out a shorthand pad with a pen stored in the metal binding.

She used her left hand to wipe at the table before placing her handbag between them.

Kim sat back down.

‘Westerley is a research facility for studying the effects of both insect activity and climate conditions on the human body. It is at least a mile and a half from the closest residential property.

‘There are a total of seven corpses there spread over a two-acre site. The bodies have all been donated by legitimate means.

‘The facility is run by Professor Christopher Wright and he is assisted by Jameel Mohammed. Both have impeccable qualifications and—’

‘I spoke to a woman,’ Tracy interjected.

‘No, you didn’t,’ Kim said.

‘Yes, I did.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ Kim repeated forcefully, wondering when the pantomime horse was going to step out of the wings.

Confusion then understanding registered in Tracy’s eyes two seconds before Kim expected it to.

‘Bloody hell, Stone, I should have known.’

Yes, she really should have.

‘You’re getting the heads-up on the understanding that you mention only the staff members that I’ve named.’

Tracy sat back in her chair, weighing up if it was more beneficial to have the first accurate story or to have every single detail.

‘If someone uncovers something juicy then I’m gonna look like a prize dick.’

Kim knew that to be true. ‘Yes, you are.’

‘I don’t know, Stone, I’m not convinced…’

Now for the clincher
, Kim thought, offering a wry expression.

‘I had a meeting with Keats, the pathologist, earlier today. We discussed Bob, at length.’

Tracy sighed heavily. ‘Jesus, that’s unfair.’

Kim shrugged.

Their gazes met and held for a long minute.

‘Okay, enough foreplay,’ Tracy said, turning the page.

Kim was happy to continue.

‘One body identified. Second victim not yet named is still alive but in a comatose state.’

‘Picture?’ Tracy asked.

‘In your dreams,’ Kim responded.

‘Go on,’ Tracy urged her to continue.

‘We are currently exploring all lines of enquiry. We do not feel that the purpose of the site has any connection to the crimes. All personnel have been ruled out of our investigation.’

Tracy frowned. ‘So why’s it being used as a dump site?’

Kim had stopped short of just how much she was prepared to reveal. She had to allow Tracy to feel she was earning this somehow.

Kim hesitated. ‘The exact location of the body was not actually on Westerley property.’ She held up her hands. ‘That’s all I’ve—’

‘Is there any connection between the victims?’ Tracy asked.

She shook her head. ‘Not yet established.’

Kim was surprised she had not been asked about the activity at the site. She had hope that this was, as yet, undiscovered. If Tracy knew of it that would definitely have been her first question.

‘Is there…?’

‘No more, Tracy,’ she said, pushing back her chair for the final time. ‘I’ve offered more than I should have already.’

‘I know,’ Tracy said, raising an eyebrow. ‘That’s what’s worrying me.’

Kim’s phone began to vibrate in her pocket. Tracy caught the subtle noise.

‘Your phone is ringing,’ she said.

‘Yeah, I know,’ Kim answered.

‘Not going to answer it?’

‘In front of you? Yeah, right.’ Kim placed her hand on her pocket and shrugged. ‘Run the story or don’t. Your call – but I’m not going to be talking to anyone else.’

Tracy licked her lips. A body-language expert would explain that as a ‘tell’ that she was excited.

The article would be at least half a page. Tracy would be able to turn what she’d said into some serious column inches.

‘I need a name,’ Tracy said, as her pen hovered above the pad. ‘If the first victim has been identified and next of kin informed, you can give me that.’

Damn this woman. Kim had been hoping to keep Jemima’s family out of it for a little while yet, but it would look more suspicious if the identity continued to be hidden.

‘Okay, Frost, her name was Jemima. Her full name was Jemima Lowe.’

The pen dropped from Tracy’s hand as Kim rose to her feet. She leaned down and picked it up.

Tracy took it without speaking, but Kim noted a slight tremble to Tracy’s hand that she hadn’t seen before.

She stepped outside as her phone stopped ringing. It started again before she had a chance to remove it from her pocket.

She saw immediately that it was Bryant, who was now back at the site.

He didn’t wait for her to speak.

‘Guv, we need you back here now. It looks like there’s another body.’

T
racy sat still
for a minute and allowed her face to arrange itself into the expression it wanted to form. Confusion.

Damn it – Jemima Lowe was not a name she wanted to hear. Not ever.

She tried to tell herself that the vague trembling in her legs was because of exhaustion. She would take just a few moments to rest her legs. It had been a hard day. She’d been chasing a story around the Black Country all day about a vicious assault on an elderly woman in Bilston.

Right now she wanted to kick off her heels and hurry back to the safety of the car barefoot, but of course she wouldn’t. Her feet had been encased in five-inch stilettos since she was old enough to get a Saturday job and buy a cheap pair from the market. But the minute she had, her life had changed.

Yes, people still pointed and laughed, thinking she’d chosen heels way too high to master. And that was fine. Because they were no longer calling her a spastic.

Just the memory of the word brought colour to her cheeks and a rolling anxiety to her stomach.

No matter how you tried to outrun your past there were memories that refused to go away. And with the memories came the rush of emotions, as though it was yesterday.

Suddenly her breath seemed unable to get down her throat. The room before her was beginning to spin. The nausea was rising in her stomach. Not now, she silently begged. Please don’t do this to me now.

Tracy tried to stem the panic and get her breath. She tried to remember the coaching. First she must try to get her breathing under control, but the palpitations were vibrating within her chest cavity. She closed her eyes against the onslaught of dizziness.

‘Please no, please no,’ she whispered through dry lips.

The first episode had happened when she was seven years old. Her mother had thought she was experiencing a heart attack and she’d called for an ambulance. The diagnosis of
panic attack
did not do justice to the severity of the symptoms.

In the years since the first one she’d read that it was her body protecting itself following the shot of adrenaline launched through her system, but it sure as hell didn’t feel as though her body was on her side right now.

It will pass, it will pass
, she told herself. The symptoms would peak in a few minutes. But as a fresh wave of perspiration broke out on her forehead and the nausea rolled in her stomach, she realised how long those ten minutes could last.

Her hands had wound themselves into the shoulder strap of her handbag. Her fingertips were turning white but she couldn’t unclench them.

‘Yow all right, love?’ asked the woman who had thrown filthy looks her way earlier.

Tracy tried to smile and nod her head, but she could feel that the expression on her face was a lopsided grimace.

Tracy sensed the woman slip into the chair beside her, but the stars in her eyes were threatening to consume her.

‘Here yow am, love,’ said the woman, unclenching her hands from the strap. ‘Hang on to me and squeeze as ’ard as yow con.’

Tracy did as she was told, as she was in no position to argue.

She squeezed her palms around the woman’s fingers and told herself over and over that she wasn’t going to die. That her breath would continue to come and that her heart would not explode right out of her body.

‘Goo on, love,’ the woman said. ‘I can teck it.’

Another good squeeze and Tracy could feel the tension starting to fall from her fingers. The uncontrollable trembling in her legs was beginning to subside. The stars were receding to the back of her head. Her body felt battered and exhausted.

‘All right now, love?’ the woman asked.

Tracy nodded gratefully. A few people were looking their way but nothing Tracy couldn’t cope with.

‘Thank you,’ Tracy said, giving her hand one last squeeze.

The woman stood and reached for her shopping bag. ‘You’re welcome, now teck care, eh?’

Tracy nodded and thanked her again.

Only when she’d gone did Tracy allow the tears to pierce her eyes. An episode was always followed by fatigue and emotion.

She probably had about twenty minutes to get home before the exhaustion claimed her completely.

The shame of her condition was as humiliating today as it had been back then. If she turned she was sure she would see the group of girls and boys who had screamed it as she’d passed.

There had been many other names throughout her school days but spastic had been their favourite.

Unequal leg length was the common term for it these days, or leg-length inequality. All very nice names but not ones you can get kids to shout while they’re pointing and laughing.

The discrepancy in her own legs was due to the femur in her left thigh being shorter than the one in the right. The frequent back pain was the result of a now tilted pelvis.

She had tried the heel lifts and the ugly shoes that had been available and none had worked.

They’d just made her feel even more clunky and ugly.

And that was why she wore the shoes.

Tracy took a deep breath and reached for her handbag. Her legs faltered for a moment as she pushed herself to a standing position, but a couple of breaths and she was ready to walk.

The fatigue pulling at her eyelids told her she was already on borrowed time, but she would have to fight it for a little bit longer.

She had to get her jumbled thoughts in order. Her legs were not responsible for the panic attack.

It was due to the mention of Jemima Lowe.