Silent Scream: An edge of your seat serial killer thriller (Detective Kim Stone crime thriller series Book 1) (9 page)

T
he doorbell sounded
and Kim didn’t even ask who was at the door as she undid the chain. It would be Bryant and he would have Chinese.

‘The chow mein fairy has entered the building.’

‘You can only stay if there are prawn crackers.’ It wasn’t a joke.

Bryant removed his outer jacket to display a polo shirt and jeans.

‘Love what you’ve done with the place.’

Kim ignored him. He said the same thing every time he came. To others, her house appeared sparse of personality and adornment. She didn’t enjoy personal embellishments. If she chose to move tomorrow she’d need a dozen bin liners and a couple of hours and she’d be ready to roll. Her years in the care system had taught her well.

She served up the beef noodles and egg fried rice. Two thirds for Bryant, one third for her. She passed the plate to him. He took one sofa and she took the other.

She put a forkful of food in her mouth and tried to ignore the disappointment. The theory of food was far more exciting than the practice of eating it. In her mouth it turned into a source of fuel; energy. She pushed in a few more forkfuls and put the plate down.

‘Jeez, slow down, you nearly filled a hollow tooth there.’

‘I’ve had enough.’

‘You make a sparrow look like a greedy bastard. You need to eat more, Guv.’

Kim shot him a look. Here in her home she was not Detective Inspector and he was not her subordinate. He was just Bryant; the closest thing to a friend she had.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, sorry.’

‘And stop fussing. I’m a big girl.’

She took her plate to the kitchen and made a fresh pot of coffee.

‘So, tell me, I bring you a handsome, affable man and food you don’t eat. Remind me again what I’m getting out of this relationship?’

‘My dazzling company,’ she deadpanned. She was nothing if not self-aware.

Bryant laughed. ‘Hmm ... I’ll just leave that hanging without comment ‘cos you might be Kim now but eventually you’ll be Guv again.’ He finished eating and brought his empty plate to the kitchen. ‘No, I had something else in mind.’

‘Like what?’

‘A date.’

‘With you?’

He guffawed. ‘You wish.’

Kim laughed out loud.

‘You know, that’s a great sound. You should do it more often.’

Kim knew what was coming. ‘The answer is no.’

‘You don’t even know who.’

‘Oh yes I do,’ she offered, in pantomime fashion. She’d caught a glimpse of Peter Grant as she’d headed out of the station. As a prosecutor with the CPS their paths still crossed but she had avoided a full conversation since the break-up.

Bryant sighed. ‘Come on, Kim. Give him a chance. He’s miserable without you. And you’re even more miserable without him.’

Kim weighed it up and answered honestly. ‘No, I’m really not.’

‘He loves you.’

Kim shrugged.

‘And you were different when the two of you were together. I wouldn’t say happy but perhaps more tolerable.’

‘I’m happier now.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Kim poured coffee for both of them and they returned to the lounge.

‘Look, Kim, I’m sure he’s sorry for whatever he did wrong.’

Kim doubted that; because the truth was, Pete hadn’t done anything wrong. It was her. It was always her.

‘Bryant, how long had Peter and I been seeing each other?’

‘Almost a year.’

‘And how many times do you think he stayed over?’

‘Quite a few.’

‘Yep, and do you want to know what lead to that final argument?’

‘If you wanna share.’

‘Only so you’ll get off my back. I finished it because one morning he didn’t take his toothbrush with him.’

‘Are you kidding?’

Kim shook her head, remembering the day when he’d left for work and she’d gone into the bathroom to see it there, brazenly lying next to hers. No crime scene had ever induced that level of horror.

‘I realised that if I’m not prepared to share a toothbrush glass, I’m not prepared to share much of anything else.’

‘But surely you could have worked it out.’

‘Jesus, this is not
Blind Date
and you’re not Cilla Black. Some people are meant to find a soul mate and live happily ever after. And some people are not wired that way. That’s all.’

‘I just want you to have someone in your life that makes you happy.’

‘Do you think it’ll make me any less difficult to work with?’ Kim asked, signalling that the conversation was over.

He got it. ‘Bloody hell – if it was that easy, I’d move in here myself.’

‘Yeah, well, make sure you don’t leave your toothbrush.’

‘No, I’ll just bring the glass I put my teeth in at night.’

‘No, really, stop there.’

Bryant finished his coffee. ‘Alright, enough foreplay. We both know why I’m here. Are you gonna show it to me or not?’

‘Well ...’

‘Come on, enough with the teasing.’

She jumped up and headed out to the garage. Bryant was no more than two steps behind.

She took her treasure from the workbench and turned to face him. She tenderly peeled back the cotton pillowcase protecting it from the temperature.

Bryant stared in wonder at the motorcycle fuel tank. ‘Original?’

‘Oh yes.’

‘It’s a beauty. Where did you get it?’

‘eBay.’

‘May I?’

Kim passed it to him. She’d spent six weeks trawling the internet for the 1951 model. Far easier to find were parts for the 1953 model and upwards. But she’d never done easy.

Bryant caressed the rubber knee pads fitted on each side of the tank and shook his head. ‘Beautiful.’

‘That’s enough, give it back.’

Bryant handed it to her and walked slowly around the motorbike. ‘Wasn’t this the model Marlon Brando rode in
The Wild One
?’

Kim jumped up and sat on the workbench. She shook her head. ‘Nineteen-fifty.’

‘Are you ever gonna ride this bike?’

She nodded. The Triumph would be her therapy. The Ninja was a rush, a challenge. Riding it satisfied a need deep within her, but the Thunderbird was a thing of beauty. Just being near it transported her back to the only three years in her life that she’d felt anything even resembling contentment. A mere interlude.

The sound of a phone ringing startled her. She jumped off the work bench and retrieved her mobile from the kitchen.

She saw the number. ‘Hell, no,’ she whispered. She darted through the house and into the street. Two houses away from her own, she pressed the answer button. Her home would not be contaminated.

‘Kim Stone.’

‘Umm ... Miss Stone, I’m ringing about an incident with your mother. She ...’

‘And you are?’

‘Oh, my apologies. I’m Laura Wilson, the night supervisor at Grantley Care Facility. I’m afraid she’s had an episode.’

Kim shook her head, confused. ‘Why are you ringing me?’

There was a brief silence. ‘Umm ... because you are listed as her emergency contact.’

‘Does it say that in the file?’

‘Yes.’

‘Is she dead?’

‘Goodness, no. She took a dislike ...’

‘Then you should have read the file better, Miss Wilson – because then you’d have known that there is only one situation for which I require an update and you’ve already confirmed that not to be the case.’

‘I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Please accept my apologies for disturbing you.’

Kim could hear the tremor in the woman’s voice and instantly felt bad for her reaction.

‘Okay, what did she do now?’

‘Earlier today she became convinced that a trainee nurse had been brought in to poison her. She’s quite sprightly for a woman approaching her sixties and she charged the nurse and brought her to the ground.’

‘Is she okay?’

‘She’s fine. We’ve altered her medication slightly to ...’

‘I meant the nurse.’

‘She was a bit scared but she’s okay now. It’s part and parcel of working in this profession.’

Yep, all in the normal day of living with a paranoid schizophrenic.

Kim was eager to end the phone call. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘No, that’s all.’

‘Thank you for the call but I would appreciate it if you made a further note on the file regarding my previous instruction.’

‘Of course, Miss Stone and once again, apologies for my error.’

Kim hit the end button and leaned against the lamp post, banishing all thoughts of her mother from her mind.

She only gave thought to that woman on her terms. And that was once a month at a time and place of her choosing. Within her control.

She left all thoughts of her mother in the street and closed the front door firmly behind her. Kim would not allow her mother’s influence into her place of safety.

She took fresh mugs from the cupboard and poured more coffee for herself and Bryant. He said nothing as she re-entered the garage, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for her to take flight from her own home to accept a phone call.

She resumed her seat on the workbench and placed the petrol tank on her lap. She reached for a wire brush, similar in size and shape to a toothbrush and gently brushed at a small patch of rust on the right hand side. Flecks of brown landed on her jeans.

‘Surely there’s a quicker way of doing that?’

‘Oh, Bryant, only a man would be concerned with the speed.’

An easy silence settled between them as she worked.

‘He’ll keep you on the case, you know,’ Bryant said, quietly.

Kim shook her head. She was not so sure. ‘I don’t know, Bryant. Woody’s right when he says I can’t be trusted. He knows that regardless of any promises I might make there are some times when I just can’t help myself.’

‘And that’s why he’ll keep you on it.’

She looked at him.

‘He knows how you work and yet you’re still around. There is no disciplinary on your file ... which is beyond shocking, if you want the truth. He knows that you get results and that you won’t rest until you solve a case, especially this case.’

Kim said nothing. This case was personal to her and Woody might feel that was detrimental.

‘And there’s one other reason why he won’t remove you from the case.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Because he would be a damn fool to do so – and we both know that Woody is no fool.’

Kim sighed heavily as she put the tank aside. She sincerely hoped her colleague and friend was right.

N
icola Adamson rewound
the news report and watched it again.

A tall, solid, black male by the name of Woodward confirmed the discovery of a body on the site of the old Crestwood children’s home. His brief statement was followed by an aerial view of the place she had once called home.

Nicola felt instant relief. Finally they were going to uncover the secrets of that godforsaken place.

But then came the fear. How would Beth react to the news? Nicola knew her sister would not open up and talk to her. As children, they had been so close; all they’d had was each other. They had shared everything. Nicola struggled to recall when that had changed.

They had grown apart after Crestwood. Beth had returned four years ago when Nicola had been struck down by glandular fever but once she’d been out of intensive care, Beth had disappeared.

A week ago she had returned and although there were minor irritations at sharing her home, Nicola loved having her sister around. A small voice in the back of her mind offered the question, how long?

When Beth was away Nicola always felt that part of her was missing. Yet when she was back Nicola felt more anxious; always worried about Beth’s reactions.

Her sister was changed somehow. There was a remoteness to her personality now; a coldness that showed in a mean set to her features, an impatience with the rest of the world. Nicola felt that every ounce of her sister’s joy had been lost.

She checked on the contents of the oven. She had decided to cook Beth's favourite meal of breaded chicken nuggets and potato waffles with a dollop of tomato ketchup. Nicola smiled. It was strange how she’d never grown out of that.

Despite their differences, Nicola wanted to forge a stronger relationship with Beth. She wanted to understand what had driven them apart.

She was hoping they could sit together in their pyjamas and watch a film while eating the juvenile meal that might find its way into Beth’s memories.

Living together was not ideal but Nicola wouldn’t trade the mild irritations for having Beth back in her life.

And she would do whatever she could to make her stay.

K
im headed
into the office after a forty-minute meeting with Woody. Three pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly.

‘I’m still heading the case.’

A collective sigh went around the room.

Kim continued. ‘The forensic osteoarchaeologist has confirmed the bones to be human and modern, so the area is now a crime scene. Cerys has remained on site and will head up the archaeological side and a forensic anthropologist is due to land from Dundee shortly.’

Dundee University was home to the Centre for Anatomy and Human Identification and had been offering degree courses in forensic anthropology for years. CAHID was regularly contacted for advice and input in high-profile identification cases at home or abroad.

Those strings had been pulled by Woody, who wanted to ensure that everyone who might need to take the stand was impeccably qualified.

‘Where are we on Crestwood staff members?’

Dawson picked up a piece of paper. ‘I’ve weeded out various short-term and temporary staff and I’m left with a list of four other members of staff that were recorded as working there when the place burned down.

‘As we know, Teresa Wyatt was the deputy manager and Tom Curtis was the head chef. General manager was a guy called Richard Croft. There was a housekeeper there for years by the name of Mary Andrews and two night-watch guys who doubled as caretaker, odd job guys.

‘So far, I’ve tracked Mary Andrews to a nursing home in Timbertree ...’

‘Richard Croft, isn’t that the name of the Conservative MP for Bromsgrove?’ Kim interrupted him. She could swear she’d just read an article that Croft had just completed some kind of bike ride for charity.

‘Definitely the same name but I haven’t yet been able to link him ...’

‘Pass it to Stace,’ Kim instructed.

She saw the set expression on Dawson’s face.

‘Stacey, what have you got on the names of the kids?’

‘I’ve got about seven so far and most of them's from Facebook.’

Kim rolled her eyes.

Stacey shrugged. ‘There ain’t many records of Crestwood and even less people that wanna talk about the place. My understanding is that the younger kids had already been placed in foster homes or other care facilities around the area. Another six or seven had gone back to family members, leaving around ten kids at the time of the fire.’

‘Sounds like a bloody nightmare.’

Stacey grinned. ‘To lesser mortals, maybe.’

Kim smiled. Stacey loved a challenge and that was about to be a good thing.

‘Right, Bryant, go get the car started.’

Bryant grabbed his jacket and left the office. Kim stepped into The Bowl and sat to remove her biking boots. As she did, she overheard the conversation taking place in the outer office.

‘Have yer tried flowers?’ Stacey asked.

‘Check,’ Dawson replied.

‘Chocolates?’

‘Check.’

‘Jewellery?’

No response.

‘Are yer kidding? You haven't tried jewellery? Oh, Kev, nothing says “sorry for being a totally amoral arsehole” like a sparkly expensive necklace.’

‘Piss off, Stace, what would you know?’

‘I'd know, lover boy, ‘cos I'm all woooooman.’

Kim smiled as she tied her right lace.

‘Yeah but your love life amongst the world of goblins doesn't count. I need advice from a woman who goes out with men. Like, real ones.’

The conversation ended as Kim stepped back into the office. ‘Stace, you’re now working on the staff members
and
ex-residents.’

Dawson looked confused.

‘Get your coat, you’re coming with me.’

He took his suit jacket from the back of the chair.

‘I’d get your overcoat as well. You’re now staying on site with forensics.’

His face lit up. ‘Seriously, Guv?’

Kim nodded. ‘I need to know what’s going on as soon as it happens. I want you to make a total nuisance of yourself. Keep asking questions, follow people around, listen to conversations and the minute you get anything new, let me know.’

‘Will do, Guv,’ he said, eagerly.

He followed her down to the waiting car.

She got in the front seat and he got in the back.

‘Buckle up, kiddies,’ Bryant said, pulling out of the car park.

Kim glanced into the rear view mirror at Dawson's eager, excited face, then turned and looked out of the window.

For a person with no people skills whatsoever, the law of averages dictated that now and again she had to get it right.