The room fell silent, enabling Kim to hear activity from the kitchen next door.
She pushed back her chair.
‘Okay, any downtime is to be spent reading through the old case files. We may get lucky with something that was overlooked.’
She hadn't yet assigned herself and Bryant a task.
Kim had a feeling they were going to be taking a field trip.
Twenty-Four
Inga stumbled over a raised slab as she accessed the public walkway.
She had managed to exit the play area without being detected. The night in the wooden castle had been cold and uncomfortable but for a few hours she had felt safe. The conditions had prevented her from falling into a full, dense sleep but her body had stolen the occasional catnap, interrupted only by the intermittent glare of the security vehicle headlights during its passing patrol.
It was during the ambulance ride that she had realised how ruthlessly she had been used. Listening to the voices of strangers showing real concern about her wellbeing as she lay still, deceiving them. Tears had pricked at her closed lids and she had never felt so lonely in her life. Except maybe once.
She marvelled again at the skill with which she'd been seduced into doing something totally against her own beliefs. The manipulation of her own insecurities and fantasies had been easy. She had been no challenge.
Every one of Inga’s weaknesses had been used against her. She had been given what she craved but she had given them so much more. She had given them Amy.
The movement of walking was injecting the sensation back into her toes. They tingled painfully as the warmth spread throughout her feet.
Her mind was clearer now that she'd rested for a few hours.
Her first priority was to change her clothes. She was still wearing the same outfit from the incident, making her instantly identifiable to anyone who might be looking for her.
Four miles stood between her and the small flat. She could take the back streets and alleyways and just go and get a change of clothes.
As the idea formed into a plan her pace quickened. If she could just get into her flat for long enough to change and grab her passport she could get to the airport, withdraw some money and get on a flight.
Yes, by using her cashpoint card she would put herself on the radar but by that time she'd be safely in the hub of a busy airport. Anonymous. And the very second she touched down in Germany she would make a call to the police and tell them what she knew.
She looked into her purse as she neared Cradley Heath bus station. Feeling more hopeful about the plan, she decided to spend what was left on a bus ride.
She ran in front of a bus just pulling out. The driver screeched the vehicle to a halt, offering her a filthy look.
She jumped on, grateful to be amongst the misery of the working crowd starting a new week. Oh, she ached to have their problems.
Twelve minutes later she jumped off the bus and headed into Dover Street, the main road that ran parallel to her own. If she turned the corner from the top end of the street she'd be able to assess quickly if anyone was hanging around.
She knew who she was looking for and he wasn't easy to miss.
She stood at the corner, her eyes searching every space. She saw nothing. She took a few steps forward, assessing every building as she went.
She jumped at the sound of a wheelie bin being pulled back into the garden after the weekly refuse collection, but made it to the Victorian house safely.
The keys jangled against each other as she tried to get the front door open. Inga cursed her own clumsiness as twice they fell from her hands. She finally closed the door behind her and leaned against it.
She felt the warm familiarity of coming home. Suddenly, she pined for the mundane drudge of normality.
Everyday life was not so far behind her that she couldn't remember coming home each night from work and moaning to herself about her employers or the crowded bus or the cost of groceries.
She put the key into the lock of her front door but it eased open. Her heart beat wildly as the door slowly displayed the carnage within.
Every piece of furniture she owned had been smashed to pieces. Her clothes were strewn and from the doorway she could see they had been ripped and cut. The clinical stench of bleach permeated the air.
She stared at the destruction before her and imagined Symes smiling as he destroyed her home.
The total devastation was meant as a warning and she'd received it loud and clear.
Inga turned on her heel and fled.
Twenty-Five
Karen was alone in the kitchen when Kim entered.
She turned from her cleaning and offered the ghost of a smile. Kim noted that the jewellery worn yesterday had been removed and not replaced. No make-up covered her skin.
‘Morning, Kim, hope last night wasn't—’
‘Can we talk outside?’ Kim asked.
Karen paused, mid-wipe.
‘Is everything okay, do you have news?’
Kim shook her head and moved towards the French doors.
Karen wiped her hands and reached for a black shawl from inside the utility room. She offered a red one to Kim.
‘I'm fine,’ Kim said.
It was almost nine and the temperature had reached one degree.
Karen closed the kitchen door and pulled the shawl tightly around her. ‘What’s—’
‘Tell me about Robert,’ Kim said, moving away from the back door. Karen followed, looking confused.
‘He is a truly wonderful man. I didn't necessarily think so when we first met but he's persistent when he wants to be.’
Kim nodded. This was Karen's one chance to tell the truth.
‘I was working late shift at a luxury car rental place. Every few weeks he'd come in to lease a car for the weekend. He liked to drive different cars but didn't see the point in owning a whole fleet with only himself to enjoy them.
‘We had a few short conversations. I was twenty-two and he was forty-one. The fifth time he came in he brought me a huge bouquet of flowers. At first I refused to take them and do you know what he said?’
Kim shook her head.
Karen smiled. ‘“Please don't think my attention is creepy, despite the age difference. I'm not a grubby old man; I am courting the woman I would like to be my wife.”’
‘Smooth,’ Kim said.
‘It was clever. All weekend I couldn't stop thinking about what he'd said and therefore couldn't stop thinking about him.
‘I resolved to give him a piece of my mind the next time we met but then I didn't see him for almost a month. And I realised that I wanted him to come in.
‘When he did, he was wearing a tuxedo. He looked so handsome and suave I couldn't tell him off. He acted as though nothing had happened and asked for the most expensive car we had. It was a Bentley convertible. I asked why the special occasion and he told me it was for a very important first date. Ours.’
It was a move that could have been plucked from a romantic comedy but it had worked and Robert appeared to be a very nice man.
‘We were married exactly one year later. It was beautiful.’
This was not moving as quickly as Kim would have liked. She took the express route.
‘Does Robert know that Charlie is not his child?’
Somewhere in this fairytale there had been deceit and Kim could no longer listen to the censored version.
Karen's head left the clouds and snapped towards her.
‘How the hell …?’
‘Because I've studied that photo and there is not one feature in her face that remotely resembles your husband, especially those lips.’
Karen's body crumbled as the sobs began. Kim continued to stare ahead.
‘Oh, God, Kim, it's such a relief to finally—’
‘Don't take your solace from me. I'm not a priest, Samaritan or counsellor. I'm a police officer and there's only one thing I need to know for sure.’
‘It was Lee,’ she mumbled
, looking down.
Kim nodded. She'd thought as much. She’d seen it in the lips. For a mean, aggressive piece of shit, he'd had a very feminine mouth.
‘It was just the once, I swear. I just couldn't—’
‘Karen, I don't give a shit. What does piss me off is that you didn't think it was important to tell me the truth immediately. Do you not understand that every single piece of information is vital? Do you really think withholding this kind of detail is going to help me get your daughter back?’
Karen's hand went to her throat. ‘Oh, God, Kim, I'm so—’
‘Does he know about her?’
Karen's face paled instantly. ‘You can't think—’
‘I can't afford not to think, Karen. I have to rule him out.’
Karen shook her head vehemently. ‘He doesn't know about Charlie. I never saw him again after … I don't even think of him being her father. To me her father has always been—’
‘Are you going to tell Robert?’ Kim asked, pointedly. She had to know if a distracting domestic situation was about to unravel.
Karen looked horrified. ‘God, no. I can't tell him now and neither can you.’
Kim had no intention of telling Robert the truth. It was not her place but she had to investigate the possibility that Charlie’s real father was involved.
She could understand Karen's refusal for full disclosure. Robert held the purse strings – and who was going to consider ruining themselves for a child who was not their own?
Karen took a step towards her. ‘Look, Kim, it really was just the one …’
Kim turned and walked away. There was an old adage that if you couldn't say anything nice, get the hell away before you said something very wrong. Or something like that. She wasn’t sure of the exact wording as she’d never taken heed.
Personally, she hated deceit of any kind but in relationships it was unforgivable. If a relationship was over, kill it and move on but don't make someone you loved feel like a fool.
She entered the war room and rubbed her hands together.
‘Stacey, start working on finding a Lee Darby. He'll be in our system and shouldn't be too hard to track down.’
‘Got it, boss,’ she said.
‘Umm … Guv, just to cheer you up, Woody's been on the phone,’ Bryant offered. ‘He wants us to stop by.’
Fabulous, Kim thought, reaching for her jacket.
Her day hadn’t started well and she had a feeling things were about to get worse.
Twenty-Six
‘What the hell can he possibly want?’ Kim grumbled as Bryant negotiated the town centre traffic around Halesowen. ‘He knows what we're working on and he summons us to a bloody meeting.’
‘Must be important, then,’ Bryant offered but she was not in the mood to be accommodating.
He pulled into the car park. Kim was already releasing her seatbelt.
‘Wait here and keep the engine running. I won't be long.’
Kim sprinted into the building and up the stairs. She knocked and waited for a second before entering.
Woody was alone.
‘Sir, you called for me?’
She stood just inside the door.
‘Stone, take a seat,’ he said, removing his glasses.
‘I'm a bit pushed for—’
‘I said sit.’
Kim took three steps forward and sat.
‘Where are we?’
There was no way in hell he'd called her in for a progress report. That he could have done over the phone. But she'd play along.
‘The team is now ensconced at the Timmins' home. The Hansons have moved in also. Last night they received a second text message saying the game would start today. Helen is in place and we've viewed the footage at the leisure centre. The kidnapper posed as a police officer and, as I’m sure you know, Bradley Evans is dead.’
Woody's right hand clenched around the pen he was holding.
‘Exactly what were we supposed to do, Stone?’ he asked, softly.
She knew he was right but Brad was still dead. ‘I don’t know. I just wanted to protect him, somehow, Sir. It’s our job.’
‘And I know you tried your best in your own way, but the death of Mr Evans rests purely with the person who kicked his head around the road. Our focus has to remain with Charlie and Amy.’
He put down the pen and reached for the stress ball.
Oh shit.
‘Stone, you need to remember that what I'm going to say is not negotiable. You may shout and scream, stomp your foot and sulk as much as you want but it won't change a thing.’
‘Good news, then?’
‘You will be assisted in this case by two key experts. One will arrive today and the other tomorrow.’
‘Sounds like a Dickens novel to me,’ Kim said.
‘The first is a behaviour expert …’
‘A profiler, Sir?’
‘No, a behaviour expert.’
Same thing, Kim thought. She had her own views on profiling, which she'd be more than happy to share with the ‘behaviour expert’.
‘Well, on the back of two text messages I'm gonna be all ears.’
‘The second is a negotiator…’
Kim dropped her head. ‘Is this some kind of wind-up?’
‘…Who might prove useful once contact is better established.’
‘I can negotiate. How about this – as soon as I catch the bastards I'll negotiate a lifetime in prison without any possibility of parole and a best friend named Butch?’
‘The negotiator was my idea, Stone.’
‘Oh … why's that, Sir?’
‘Let's just say I feel your skill set lies in other areas.’
She respected his judgement.
She raised one eyebrow. ‘Could we do a deal? I'll take the negotiator and you keep Cracker?’
Woody’s mouth almost turned up in a smile.
‘And I trust you will remain both courteous and professional at all times.’
He placed the stress ball back on the desk.
Kim had learned to choose her battles wisely. ‘Of course. You know me.’
His dour expression said it all.
She sighed, heavily. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, I think I've brightened your day quite enough.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she said, not trusting herself to say more.
She left the office and hurried back down the stairs. She paused for two seconds and made a quick decision. A detour to her office took no more than five minutes.
‘We all getting a pay rise?’ Bryant asked as she threw a folder onto the back seat.
‘No, even better. We're getting a profiler and a negotiator.’
‘And a candlestick maker?’
‘Not right now but who the hell knows later.’
Bryant chuckled. ‘Umm … what's the point of that exactly?’
‘Makes the brass feel better. So that if this case goes horribly wrong they can hang me out to dry and say that I had every available resource.’
‘But it's not going to go horribly wrong, is it, Guv?’
‘You can bet on it.’
Bryant smiled. ‘Am I resuming our journey to Featherstone?’
They had barely left the Timmins' driveway before Stacey had tracked Lee Darby down. He was currently residing at Her Majesty's Pleasure.
‘Oh, yes,’ Kim said. It was not a meeting she was looking forward to.
Twenty-Seven
Karen was surprised at her ability to function normally when faced with a methodical task.
There was a part of her that thought if she carried on as normal Charlie would simply breeze back into the house. The logistics of this were not important. Karen knew that her child was being held captive and wouldn't just materialise but when she allowed herself to complete normal tasks it seemed possible.
Every few minutes she glanced longingly at the front door and ached to just run free. She wanted to shout, scream and search, sure that Charlie would hear her and appea
r. She would discover that the text messages had all been some kind of hoax and the two girls had been safe all along.
Karen blinked away the tears as the futility of the wish cleared the way for the facts. The fantasy was heaven for the few seconds that it lasted but she always returned to the truth. Twenty-four hours had passed and her child was still not home.
Preparing and cooking lunch had given her a rest from her own mind and the one thought that kept trying to surface. But she couldn't think it; wouldn't think it. If she did it would destroy her. Charlie was alive. She knew it.
Karen busied herself with cleaning the plates. Four were barely touched but that was okay. The purpose had been in making it, not eating it.
She filled the sink with hot water, bypassing the dishwasher. She didn't want the task of clearing up to take minutes. She wanted it to occupy her for hours. Until the very second that Charlie came home.
Each moment it grew harder to face Robert, knowing what she knew and what he did not. Although she had felt chastised by Kim, Karen knew the detective was justified. If she'd thought it would have any impact on her daughter's safety she would have shouted the truth from the rooftops. But it had no bearing. It couldn't.
‘Can I help?’ Elizabeth asked, entering the kitchen.
It was on the tip of Karen's tongue to refuse; if she shared the task it would be finished sooner and she would be left once again with her thoughts. One look at her friend's face changed her mind.
At least she had the luxury of being in her own home. She could cook, clean and generally try to keep herself busy.
‘Grab that tea towel,’ Karen said. ‘What are the boys doing?’ she asked. Hardly boys, but it was how they both referred to their husbands in the plural.
‘They're both on their laptops. Robert is pretending to read emails but hasn't pressed a button for ten minutes.’
‘Stephen?’
‘He's made a couple of calls. Apparently there are some things that can't be delegated. It's not his fault. His work is not so easy to hand over as mine,’ Elizabeth said, uncomfortably.
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