Blood Lines

by Angela Marsons

  The only thing she cared about was the fact her plan was now coming to fruition.

  Mistakes could definitely occur when trying to orchestrate what she was attempting to do, but the key lay in bite-sized portions. Nibbling away at small chunks of the problem.

  And patience.

  There were many things she had wanted to do from the moment she’d been incarcerated but that would have been foolish: actions based on anger for some small satisfaction but no eventual gain. So, she had sat on her hands and planned. And it was working out swimmingly.

  A noise sounded from the hallway and Tanya appeared in the doorway: a bin liner trailing behind her and a murderous look on her face.

  Oh dear, it appeared her request had made the toughest, most feared inmate of the prison angry.

  Too bad.

  ‘You is one dead bitch, ho,’ she growled.

  Alex remained sitting against the wall but she allowed a smile to form on her face.

  ‘Hello, Tanya. Welcome to your new home.’

  ‘Fuck that,’ Tanya said, dropping the bag and advancing on her. ‘What you think you playin’ at, bitch?’

  Alex felt a second of anxiety. This woman was capable of murder with her bare hands. She forced herself to remain calm.

  ‘Step away and I’ll tell you,’ she said coolly.

  ‘Step away you say?’ Tanya screamed, as the rage hit a whole new level. ‘You lucky I don’t shank you right now you fucking slag, whore, bitch. I’ll step away when it suits me to step the fuck away and that—’

  ‘Tanya, calm down,’ Alex urged, not enjoying the positioning of Tanya towering over her. The aroma of milky Weetabix was wafting down towards her.

  Tanya snarled. ‘Don’t tell me to calm down, slut. No one tells me what the fuck to do.’

  Alex really wanted the woman to step back and let her talk.

  ‘Tanya, it is in both of our interests for you to stop drawing attention to us.’

  The last thing Alex wanted was for the officers to sense trouble between them. They would move Tanya back in a heartbeat.

  The word ‘interests’ seemed to get her attention. She unbent her upper half and returned to a standing position.

  ‘Talk fast, or you get it right now,’ she said.

  Alex knew she had gained control and laughed out loud. ‘Oh, Tanya, please do me the courtesy of a real threat.’

  It was daytime and the place was buzzing with guards. Not Tanya’s style.

  ‘Your first opportunity will be tonight, once that door is locked, so hold your breath until then.’

  Tanya glared at her. ‘You telling me when to shank you, slag?’ Tanya asked, disbelievingly.

  ‘If we’re going to have pet names for each other so soon, I prefer bitch, and all I’m doing is detailing your best opportunity to shank me if you still want to, but I don’t think you will.’

  ‘What game you playin’, bitch?’ she repeated.

  One that you can’t even begin to imagine, Alex thought. She shrugged. ‘What were you told?’

  ‘Reallocation,’ she spat.

  ‘Looks like you’re stuck here, then,’ she said, looking towards the spare bed. ‘May as well get comfy.’

  Tanya’s light jeans dragged on the floor as she took a step back. Her plain black T-shirt stretched across her ample bosom.

  Alex didn’t flinch as Tanya leaned forward again but not as close. The woman wrinkled her nose in disgust as she peered closer at Alex’s face. ‘That little snip of a thing do that to you?’ she asked, sarcastically.

  ‘No, I did it to myself,’ Alex said, meeting her gaze.

  ‘You kidding, bitch,’ Tanya said, looking unsure.

  ‘Actually, Tanya, I’m not,’ Alex said, seriously.

  Tanya searched her face for some hint at humour.

  Alex locked on to her gaze and didn’t let go.

  ‘You one weird fucking bitch,’ Tanya said, throwing her bin bag onto the bed.

  You’d better believe it, Alex thought.

  ‘And I don’t fucking like yer one little bit.’

  Alex said nothing but just watched as her new cellmate began slamming her possessions onto the table.

  ‘And don’t think we are gonna stay up late chatting and swapping stories.’

  Alex didn’t need to swap stories. There was little about Tanya that she didn’t already know.

  ‘And by this time tomorrow, you’ll be dead,’ Tanya said, without turning.

  Alex smiled at the back of the figure that had just threatened her life.

  Somehow she didn’t think so.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Kim turned right into the road that led to the Saltwells Nature Reserve. Known as one of the largest urban nature reserves in the country, it covered an area of 247 acres.

  At the heart lay forty hectares of Saltwells Wood. The area had been a popular choice for school trips. She still remembered that the area west of the Black Brook was called Lady Dudley’s Plantation, thought to be in honour of Lady Dudley.

  They were heading for Birch Wood which spread east.

  Kim parked the car a hundred feet away from the Saltwells Inn which was busy with disgruntled lunchtime trade being ushered out the doors by four or five uniforms. People were heading towards cars.

  ‘Bryant,’ Kim said.

  ‘On it, guv,’ he said, getting out of the car.

  She backed up the car and placed it right in the middle of the exit driveway. No one was leaving until they had witness statements.

  She locked the car and shouted to her colleague. She tossed the keys towards him mid-trot, which he caught with one hand. He could move the car once potential witnesses had been documented and accounted for.

  She neared the perimeter as a second constable arrived to assist the WPC at the cordon entry.

  ‘Druggie in the bushes,’ she heard the WPC explain.

  Kim shook her head and passed without speaking.

  As she entered the woods she could hear voices in the distance. She traversed what were known to be some of the finest bluebell woods in the country. There was little evidence now of their spring flowering.

  She caught the movement of either a crime tech suit or a yeti through the trees. She betted on tech and headed towards it.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Kim said as she reached the inner cordon tape. There was no shortage of trees around which to loop it. She ducked under it and entered a canopy of branches that belied the autumn sun that had just warmed her.

  Gathering forensic evidence from a scene like this was a techie’s worst nightmare. Open to the elements, animals, insects. Even a gentle breeze could destroy something that could potentially lead to the crime being solved.

  It was universally known that not every piece of evidence could be found at a crime scene but it was good if the guys had a fighting chance. They would be here for days and might still find nothing.

  She took a moment to look around. There were officially marked pathways and also trodden-down routes and short cuts everywhere as people made their own way through bramble and shrubbery. Establishing the access and egress points would be near impossible.

  ‘Hello again, Detective Inspector,’ Jonathan Bullock said from beside her.

  ‘Inspector will do,’ she answered.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said as though she had given him permission to use her first name. He nodded towards the location of the body. ‘Do you know what I think?’ he asked.

  She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Absolutely nothing,’ he said with a shy smile.

  She smiled in return. She liked fast learners.

  ‘Aah, Inspector, lovely to see you again,’ Keats said.

  ‘What do you have?’ Kim asked, stepping further into the tape circle.

  ‘A better attitude than you,’ Keats retorted.

  ‘No great feat,’ Kim said, approaching the body.

  She looked down into what should have been a pretty face amongst a mop of tight blonde curls. Kim guesse
d her to be late teens/early twenties but her face was ravaged by cold sore scars. Her cheeks were gaunt and her eyes more sunken than they should be. There was an air of sadness to the face that Kim could not fathom.

  ‘Drug addict?’ she asked, quietly, as she swatted away a fly from her ear.

  Keats nodded. ‘Fresh needle marks between the toes.’

  Often the sign of a long-term user. Heroin addicts chose to move sites for various reasons. Sometimes it was due to collapsed veins at other injection sites and other times it was to hide the fact they were still injecting. Whatever the reason it was a painful way to get the drugs into the body.

  ‘Are you aware of what you do, Inspector?’ Keats asked with a puzzled expression.

  She narrowed her eyes. ‘What are you talking about?’

  Once the words left her mouth she realised she had just opened herself up for a whole barrage of one-liners.

  ‘Touch the victim,’ he said, glancing down at her blue gloved right hand which was resting on the woman’s shoulder. His voice was quieter than usual. ‘You’ve done it at every one of my crime scenes. Just saying.’

  Kim hadn’t been aware. She felt real sympathy for this poor kid but she suspected this young girl would not be one of hers.

  ‘What are you showing me?’ she asked. ‘This girl is nothing like my victim. There is no similarity—’

  She stopped speaking as he slowly lifted the black T-shirt.

  Her emaciated body, ravaged by the effects of heroin, had one single stab wound that looked as though it had been lifted from the body of Deanna Brightman.

  Two stabbing victims in as many days with the exact same wound.

  She looked to Keats.

  ‘No hesitation marks and the measurements are exactly the same.’

  Kim sighed deeply. Only two days into the week and she was already just one body short of a serial killer.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Kim felt the sadness of the girl’s death surround her as she headed out of the woods. As though sensing her mood the autumn sun had disappeared behind a dense grey cloud.

  Just like the crime scene of Deanna Brightman, no effort appeared to have been made to disrupt the investigation. The victim had already been identified and there was someone that needed to know.

  She stopped at the cordon tape. The male and female constables smiled at her questioningly, wondering why she’d paused.

  She did not smile in return as she fixed her gaze on the WPC.

  ‘The “druggie in the woods” is named Maxine Wakeman and is twenty-two years of age. She has blonde hair, brown eyes and a small birthmark on her shoulder. She has a stab wound in her abdomen that bled out until she died. She has a handmade bracelet on her wrist and her toes are painted baby pink.’ Kim stared into the woman’s eyes and enjoyed the shame that she found there. ‘I just thought you should know.’

  Kim offered no opportunity for a response before she turned and walked away. She arrived back at the car just as Bryant was moving it to the side.

  Bryant shoved his head out of the window. ‘Did you know that Saltwells takes its name from brine spas which used to be right next to the Saltwells Inn? Apparently saline water welled up on the mine workings and people came to bathe thinking it had healing properties.’

  ‘I didn’t know that but I can see how it’s imperative to the case,’ she offered, drily.

  ‘No one saw a thing,’ Bryant said as he got out of the car. ‘But we have the details of everyone.’ He turned towards the bench. ‘That woman with the poodle found her. Still pretty shook up.’

  Kim would have imagined so.

  ‘WPC Perks is going to stay with her until Dawson gets here.’

  Sometimes it was good that Bryant knew her so well. They had other leads to follow, but this witness needed deep and gentle questioning. Calling Dawson is what she would have done.

  ‘So, our guy or not?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘Difficult to say for certain but the wound is exactly the same as Deanna’s. It’s the victims that don’t match.’

  ‘Copycat?’ Bryant asked, leaning against the car door.

  ‘The detail was withheld from the press,’ Kim said, ‘making a copycat unlikely. Also, Deanna’s murder only made the papers last night and the approximate time of death for our new victim was ten thirty last night. Not a lot of time to plan a copycat killing.’

  ‘But our victims have nothing in common?’ Bryant said.

  ‘Except the wound,’ Kim said, taking out her phone.

  ‘Yeah, there is that,’ Bryant said.

  ‘I was just gonna ring you,’ Stacey said, answering the phone.

  ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘Got an address for Jason Cross but cor find out where he’s working today.’

  ‘Give me the office number,’ Kim instructed. She then read it out to Bryant, who keyed it into his phone.

  ‘Thanks, Stace, now I need an address for a Maxine Wakeman.’

  ‘Who is… ?’

  ‘Probably a second victim,’ Kim said.

  ‘You’re joking?’

  ‘See what you can find out,’ Kim said and ended the call.

  ‘Pass me your phone,’ she said to Bryant.

  ‘Why, what has your own done to offend you?’

  She ignored him and hit the key to call the number read out from Stacey.

  It was answered on the second ring.

  ‘Jay’s kitchen fitting services.’

  ‘Hi there,’ Kim said, cheerfully. ‘It’s Amelia from the plumbers’ merchants. Jason called through an urgent order for a mixer tap and I’m trying to get it to him, but I took down the wrong postcode, I think, because I seem to be heading right out of the area.’

  There was a hesitation.

  ‘Never mind,’ Kim said. ‘I’ll head back to the office and wait for him to call if you can’t—’

  ‘Wait a minute. He’s working in Wombourne,’ she said and read off the postcode.

  Kim thanked her and ended the call as Dawson pulled up beside them.

  Time to find out if Deanna had been doing something she shouldn’t have been.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Alex walked around the library studiously but it was not a book she sought. It was a location. She went back to the doorway and glanced in again.

  Her eye went straight to the four chairs around a small square dining table.

  She placed herself in the chair that meant her back was to the door. Other than her the library was empty. The council-run facility was open every day. They offered a poetry reading group, storybooks for mums and a Sunday reading group. Luckily for her the dinner gong was imminent, which meant the hordes were already gravitating towards the dinner hall as though meal times were events to be relished.

  She arched her back and positioned her head in her hands, her fingers in her hair.

  Within minutes she heard the unmistakeable sound of cheap shoes squeaking along the polished floor. Not hurried or focussed, just regular and relaxed. On patrol.

  She leaned forward and began to tremble her back ever so slightly. She dug her fingernails into her scalp.

  The footsteps stopped twenty feet behind her.

  ‘Alex, are you okay?’

  Alex smiled behind the tears that were slowly building in her eyes. It was Katie – perfect.

  She dug her nails in harder but offered no reply.

  ‘Alex, what’s wrong?’

  Alex shook her head slightly and continued to dig away until a tear rolled down her cheek.

  ‘Alex, what’s happened?’ Katie asked, taking a chair beside her.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Alex spluttered, raising her head.

  She watched as the concern filled Katie’s face. Oh, there was nothing like exploiting the maternal concern and hormonal circus of a brand new mother.

  ‘Doesn’t look like nothing,’ she said, gently, touching her on the forearm.

  Alex took a dramatic deep breath. ‘It’s my sister. She’s rece
ntly had a little girl but when I called yesterday they were just considering calling an ambulance. A rash and a fever, they said. And now I can’t get them at all.’

  ‘I’m sure everything will be okay,’ Katie said, reassuringly.

  ‘My little niece,’ she sobbed, shaking her head. ‘I keep imagining her crying with the pain. That rosy little face scrunched up in agony. Her little fists clenched and her cries… ’

  ‘Now, now, try not to think about it,’ Katie said. ‘I’m sure it will all be fine.’

  ‘How can I not think about it, Katie?’ she asked, slipping in the first name reference. ‘How would you feel?’ Alex asked. ‘If you had to come to work and your poor baby was poorly and you couldn’t carry your phone so you wouldn’t know. That’s how I feel.’

  She dug her nails in deeper.

  ‘She could be dead by now for all I know,’ Alex said, allowing the volume of her voice to rise to a stage of near-hysterics.

  ‘Calm down, Alex,’ Katie said, looking around.

  ‘But you know how it feels, don’t you?’ Alex asked, cementing their common problem. It was almost in the bag. ‘Once you’re inside these walls you don’t have a clue what’s happening with your baby—’

  ‘Lewis,’ she supplied helpfully.

  ‘It’s the same for me with baby Kirsty. I don’t know anything. Anything could happen and we wouldn’t know,’ she said, beseechingly.

  ‘I’d know,’ Katie said, seriously.

  ‘Of course,’ Alex nodded and offered a wry smile. ‘Your sitter would call the office and they’d put out a call… ’

  ‘No,’ she said, tapping her pocket. ‘I’d know straightaway.’

  Of course she would, Alex thought, as the mouse headed towards the cat exactly as she had suspected. No new mother would be incommunicado while leaving their newborn in the care of someone else, regardless of what the rules said.

  Katie was clearly someone who could choose which rules could and could not be broken. Perfect.

  There were real rules like don’t give your access card to an inmate. Don’t smuggle in drugs or alcohol. Everyone knew those were rules not to be broken. But carrying a mobile phone while on duty. Well, what harm could that do?