Because what she had to say changed everything.
Thirty-Three
Kim pressed the button that ended the call.
She closed her eyes for a second, absorbing everything she’d heard. The pieces began to fall into place.
She exhaled the breath she’d been holding. ‘Oh, Bryant,’ was all she could say.
‘What’s going on?’ her colleague asked.
Kim took a moment to retrace everything they’d seen since arriving at Catherine’s home. Now she knew where to look.
‘Follow me,’ Kim said, heading out of the room and down the stairs.
She strode out of the back door and stopped at the only place that made sense.
She lowered herself to the ground and sat cross-legged in front of the garden storage box.
‘Catherine, it’s Kim Stone, and I know you’re in there.’
Because the lawnmower was not.
There was no sound and Kim considered the possibility that she was sitting on the ground speaking to an empty plastic box. But she suspected not.
Kim scooted closer to the box and lowered her voice even further. She placed one hand on top of the lid as though offering the woman some kind of reassurance.
‘Catherine, I know who you are, and I know why you’re scared.’
There was the faintest of sobs.
Kim heard a sharp intake of breath from Bryant, who was standing behind her. She glanced around to find him shaking his head with bewilderment. She turned back to the container.
‘It’s okay, Catherine. I know you’re the orange-box kid.’
Kim heard another sob and she knew Stacey had got it right.
‘I also know your name was Janet Wilson and you were abducted from your front garden in Walsall. You were kept in an orange storage box for seventeen days before you managed to get away.’
Kim now understood the scarring on her hand. It was from trying to escape.
The sobbing became even louder. Bryant stood behind her, not making a sound.
‘I know why you’re scared, Catherine. Will you please come out and talk to me?’
The sobbing had stopped and Kim knew she could throw open the lid and haul the fully grown Catherine out. Only it was nine-year-old Janet who was hiding in the box.
Stacey had read her everything she’d been able to get her hands on.
‘The doctors couldn’t understand how you’d managed to stay alive, could they?’ Kim asked.
But Kim knew. The nine-year-old had lived on insects and it was why she showed them such great respect now. They had kept her alive.
‘Catherine, I promise you can trust me. Please step out of the box.’
The lid began to open and a contorted body began to unfurl.
Kim held the lid open as Catherine resumed her normal shape.
Bryant offered his hand to help her step out of the box.
Her face was pale, tear-stained and looked much younger than her thirty-two years.
‘May we go inside?’ Kim asked.
Catherine nodded and stepped through the patio door.
Kim followed and Bryant stood in the doorway.
Catherine sat on the sofa and stared at her hands. This was not the self-assured, aloof woman Kim had met at Westerley.
Kim sat beside her. ‘Catherine, I know you’re still in hiding. The men that took you were never caught, were they?’
It didn’t matter how many years passed, the fear that they were coming back for her would always be there.
Kim had experienced dreams for years that her mother had managed to find her and put the handcuffs around her wrist again. Her mother had been locked in Grantley Care psychiatric facility for more than twenty-five years. And yet still the dreams came.
‘Trust me, Catherine. I get it,’ Kim said, meeting her eye.
Kim was saddened by the fear she saw there.
‘I can’t go back,’ she whispered.
‘To Westerley?’ Kim clarified.
Catherine nodded and lowered her head. ‘I’ll have to move again. Once the papers start printing the story my name will appear and someone might make the connection. It didn’t take you long. He’ll find me. I know he’ll find me.’
Kim could see her point, although not everyone had a Stacey up their sleeve.
The fear was not rational anyway. Catherine was now a grown woman with a different name and a different life, but the fear came from the nine-year-old girl who knew her torturers were still out there. She had worked through her education safely, although she’d moved university twice, and she’d found a job doing what she loved in a place where she could never be found. Finally, she had felt safe.
But Catherine was correct. Westerley would be examined in depth, staff members and all.
‘I was happy there,’ Catherine offered. ‘I haven’t felt so safe since leaving Bromley…’
The very name sent a frisson of fear through Kim. She knew of Bromley. Every kid in the care system knew of Bromley. Twenty years ago it had been a closed psychiatric unit for youngsters and a place surrounded by mystery and fear. It had been the threat that lived on the lips of every care worker that couldn’t handle an unruly or spirited kid.
Catherine caught her expression. ‘You know of it?’
Kim nodded. ‘I was a care kid, Catherine. It was often used as a threat to keep us in line. We were terrified of the place,’ she admitted.
Catherine looked surprised. ‘Really? I was happy there. I couldn’t cope, you see. Afterwards. I went home to my family, but it wasn’t the same. They tried to make me feel safe, the police even arranged for panic alarms to be fitted throughout the house, but my mind found a way around everything.
‘They could disable the panic alarms, cut the power, take me again while I was sleeping. It was the fear… it consumed me. I couldn’t eat or sleep and nowhere felt safe. I just cried every day. They tried drugs first, but nothing worked until I was sent to Bromley. They took care of me there. They protected me.’
‘Did you stay there?’ Kim asked gently.
Catherine shook her head. ‘My first stay was two weeks. The second I heard those doors close and lock behind me I felt safe. I felt relief. Amongst all that craziness, I finally felt sane.’
Kim understood that she had hated it for the very reasons Catherine had loved it.
‘The second I got home the old feelings returned. Two days later I was back at Bromley. The trips home became less frequent, and that was fine by me. My parents visited as often as they could, and my father consulted a solicitor who made a case for a new identity.’
Catherine’s expression saddened further at the mention of her father.
‘By the time I left Bromley for good I no longer knew my parents. They just reminded me of what happened, and so I stayed away.’
Kim realised from the dates Stacey had given her that Catherine had been at Bromley until she was eighteen years old. No wonder the outside world was difficult for her to navigate.
‘At Westerley I thought I was safe,’ Catherine continued, looking around the small living room. ‘But I have to leave now. I can’t possibly go back.’
‘Sleep on it, Catherine,’ Kim advised. ‘Don’t do anything rash. It might not be over yet.’
‘I don’t understand. You know everything, so you have to understand that I can’t go back there. If it’s about the investigation I’ll let you know…’
‘It’s not about the investigation. I’m just asking you to ease off. At least until tomorrow. Will you do that for me?’
She could feel safe here for the moment. The article wasn’t out for the next hour or so and she had CCTV.
Kim handed her a card. ‘If you have any trouble, any unwelcome visitors or even noises you can’t explain, call me. Got it?’
Catherine nodded eagerly. Kim had given her options. The logical mind of the grown woman knew her captors were not coming back, but the fear of the little girl would never go away.
Catherine used her inde
x finger to trace a line around the edge of the card. A slight tremble was still present and some tension in the jaw.
‘What is it?’ Kim asked, sensing there was still fear in this woman’s mind.
‘Do you have to tell them – at Westerley, I mean?’ She bit the inside of her lower lip. ‘I just don’t want to be treated any differently and they’ll have questions which will take me back to that time. And I don’t think I can bear that.’
Kim understood that better than anyone. She saw no reason to divulge what she’d learned to the woman’s work colleagues. She had made her life as Catherine Evans and it was her prerogative to share her past with whomever she chose.
Kim shook her head. ‘It won’t come from me but you’d better start thinking up an explanation for your sudden departure today.’
Catherine swallowed and tipped her head. Her face had lost some of its ashen colour.
‘Inspector, you’re not quite the person I thought you were.’
Kim offered a half-smile. ‘Neither are you, Catherine Evans.’
Kim stood. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?’
‘Thank you,’ Catherine said.
Bryant followed silently to the car.
‘You know, guv, I hate to have to say this but none of what I heard in there completely rules her out.’
Kim knew he was right. But despite her team’s suspicions, she still felt they were looking for a man.
She opened the passenger door and tossed Bryant the keys. A clear indication that she needed to think.
‘Bryant, drop me home and head back to Westerley. I’ll meet you back there later.’
He frowned. ‘What the hell are you going to try and do for her?’
Kim said nothing but stared out of the window. She couldn’t tell Bryant what she was considering.
Because it meant bedding down with the devil.
Thirty-Four
Isobel 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…’
Thirty-Five
Kim 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.
Play Dead: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller Book 4 Page 13
