Chapter Seven
Kayla jumped at a knock on her door. She shrank back onto the bed, her knees drawn up.
“Who is it?”
“My name’s Detective Sergeant Mo Uddin. I need to ask you some questions.”
She felt ice run down her back. The others would be out there, watching him. Wondering what was going on. They’d have let him in the outer door.
“OK,” she whispered, and crossed to the door. She turned the lock and peered out. The corridor was empty expect for a middle-aged Asian man with a friendly smile. He held up a police badge.
“Hi, Kayla. Sorry to bother you, but can I come in?”
Kayla’s gaze darted along the corridor. Ricky’s door was open a crack: listening in. She felt like screaming.
“Come in.”
The detective followed her into the room and looked around for something to prop the door open with. Of course, she thought. He wouldn’t want to risk being alone with her. In case she accused him of something.
“Here,” she said. She reached under the bed and brought out the stuffed dog she used to hold the door when she was feeling sociable.
“Thanks.” He placed it next to the door and turned to give her a wary smile.
She looked past him into the corridor. They’d all be listening in. But at least if they knew the truth, they wouldn’t be able to speculate.
She would just have to be careful what she said.
“Mind if I sit?” The detective put a hand on the back of her work chair. She nodded and he pulled it out and slipped into it. She took her place on her bed, legs drawn up to her chest.
“We’ve been talking to Lin,” the man said. “She says the two of you were making a video.”
Kayla nodded.
“Could you let me have a copy?”
“Oh. Yes, of course.” The camera was behind him, on the desk. She’d used her phone at first, but Lin had complained that they needed something with higher resolution. The camera had turned up one morning as they were about to film. Kayla didn’t know if Lin had got her folks to pay for it, or if she’d acquired it some other way, maybe even stolen it. “It’s right there.” She pointed.
The detective picked up the camera and turned it over in his hand.
“Here,” she said. “There’s a SD card.” She held out her hand and he passed it to her. She flicked the button to open the card slot and tipped it into her hand, then passed it to him.
“Thanks,” he said. “Mind if I take the camera too?”
Kayla frowned: what would Lin say? “OK.” She handed it back to him. He brought a plastic bag out of his pocket and put both camera and card inside.
He placed the bag on the desk and turned to look at her. She blinked under his gaze.
“So,” he said. “How are you?”
“Fine,” she grunted. Just get on with it, she thought.
“Your roommates – is that the right term? – were worried about you.” He gestured towards the door.
Yeah, right, she thought. “Oh,” she said.
“They said you came running in here at around half past midnight and locked yourself in your room. You haven’t been out since.”
Kayla shrugged.
“What you saw… it can’t have been easy.”
She pursed her lips but said nothing. Her skin felt hot.
“I’m going to need to ask you what happened.”
“It’s on the video,” she whispered.
He glanced at the camera. “We’ll look at that,” he said. “And I’m grateful for it. But I’ll need your account too.”
She shifted on the bed. Her hands felt cold.
“Would you like me to fetch someone? For support?”
She shook her head. He’d get Jenson, the residential tutor. She didn’t want that.
“No,” she said.
“Can you call your parents? Would they come and take care of you? I’m sure some leave…”
“No.” She clenched her fists. “No.” She hadn’t spoken to her parents since Christmas, and even then she’d returned to Birmingham as soon as she could. Her mum had a way of looking into her face and reading her thoughts, and Kayla didn’t want that.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Ask your questions.” She straightened, shifting her back up the wall and putting her legs out in front of her. She wished she had another chair.
“OK.” He smiled. “There was a party on, yes?”
“The Valentine’s Ball.”
“And you and Lin decided to come upstairs and make a video?”
“Lin likes to record when there’s a party on. Capture the stuff that happens in the shadows, she says.”
“Had you seen Laurence before you went to his room?”
“No.”
“When was the last time you saw him?”
She bit her lip. “I don’t know. A while.” Truth was, she avoided him. Especially now, after what had happened with that Becca girl.
“OK. Whose idea was it to go to his room?”
“Lin’s. I tried to stop her. We went along the rest of his corridor first, but then she said it was his turn.” She tugged at her sleeve. “I wasn’t keen.”
“Why not?”
“He never comes out. I didn’t like the idea of… disturbing him.” She gazed at her fingers, turning them over in her lap.
“Was his door locked?”
Kayla shook her head. “We wouldn’t have gone in if it had been.”
“Was it normally locked?”
She felt heat pass through her. “How would I know?”
He frowned at her and shrugged. “Just a question.”
She swallowed. “I don’t know. Most people don’t lock their doors, but he might have.”
“Why’s that?”
Her back stiffened. “Like I said, he’s a recluse. Doesn’t like people.”
The detective stared at her for a moment, deepening her discomfort.
“OK,” he said at last. “So when you found him, what did you see?”
Why are you asking me this? she thought. Surely they could see for themselves.
“He was on the floor. It was dark, Lin hit him with her foot. We opened the door to let some light in, and he was there.” She shivered, remembering his body slumped next to the bed.
“It was Lin who opened the door?”
“It might have been me. Sorry, I can’t…”
He smiled. “Don’t worry. Our memories can play tricks with us, when things like this happen.”
Yeah, she thought. They can. She stared back at him, trying to keep her face impassive.
“Did either of you touch him?” the man asked.
“Lin pushed him, with her foot. He… he rolled over.” She felt sick. “Then… then I left.”
“You came back here?”
Her eyes ached, tears fizzing behind them. “Sorry. I shouldn’t have left her there.”
“It’s understandable.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a card. “If you think of anything else, will you call me?”
She nodded.
“And I’ll make sure you get your camera back as soon as we’re done with it,” he said.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
He smiled as he stood up. He held out his hand but withdrew it when she didn’t respond. “Thanks, Kayla. You take care of yourself, yes?”
She shrugged as he left the room, then fell back against the wall, tears pouring down her cheeks.
Chapter Eight
“So. What we got?” Zoe asked. She was in her car, Mo in the passenger seat and Rhodri in the back. They were parked in the spot Mo had been directed to, a good ten minutes’ walk from Boulton Hall. At least it afforded them some privacy.
“The security guard’s a busted flush, boss,” Rhodri said. “Didn’t even go into the room. I think he was worried he’d get a grilling if he disturbed anything.”
“Did he give you any information about the students? Whether Lin or Kayla had any dealings
with Laurence? Who his friends were?”
“He told me the two girls are nosy parkers. His words. Always creeping around the building, filming people.”
“Hmm.” Zoe wondered what they’d done to piss Jenks off. “What about Laurence?”
“Kept himself to himself, like your witness said. Hardly came out of his room. I spoke to the bursar and he said the kid hadn’t taken any of the meals on his meal plan for two weeks.”
“Do they have cooking facilities in the rooms?”
“Each corridor has a communal kitchen and living room,” said Mo. “But according to the students on that floor, he never used that.”
“So where did he eat?”
“Judging by the state of his room, he was living on a diet of Jacob’s crackers and Pom Bears,” Mo said.
“Nice.” If it hadn’t been for Zoe’s son and his culinary skills, that wouldn’t have been too far off her own diet.
“So was he pals with any of those kids on his corridor, then?” Rhodri asked Mo.
“Nope. None of them had any dealings with him.”
“Poor lad.”
“He’s nineteen. Was,” said Zoe. “Hardly a wee laddie.”
Rhodri shrugged. “S’pose so.”
“So,” she sighed. “We haven’t got much to go on until the pathologist reports. Where the hell is he or she anyway?”
Her phone rang: Adi.
“Good news, Zoe.”
“Tell me it’s Adana.”
“Not Adana, sorry. Next best thing. Her colleague, Brent.”
“Brent?”
“Doctor Brent Reynolds.”
“Never heard of him.”
“He’s new.”
“He’s also bloody late.”
“Had to come from Leicester, apparently.”
“Why did Adana send us someone who was in Leicester?”
“Are you coming back here, or what?” Adi asked. “He’ll be gone in five minutes.”
“On my way.”
Zoe hung up and told Mo to head back to the office in Rhodri’s car. “I’ll be right behind you,” she said. “Not much to do here. Find out if Connie’s made any progress.”
Mo nodded, and he and Rhodri got out of the car. She followed and headed back to Boulton Hall.
Inside, she gave Mark Jenks a cursory nod as she passed his office then called the lift, sighing. She wasn’t looking forward to meeting this Doctor Reynolds.
When she arrived at Laurence’s room, the pathologist was on the floor next to the body, examining the inside of the young man’s cheeks.
“Doctor Reynolds,” Zoe said. “Nice of you to join us.”
He turned to look up at her, his eyes narrow. “Don’t bloody blame me. Fucking pile-up on the M1.”
She twisted her lips in irritation. “You could have called ahead. Maybe got a colleague to fill in for you?”
“We’re short staffed. I’m only here cos I’ve been seconded to fill a gap while they do recruitment.”
“So. What can you tell me?”
“Rigor’s only just setting in and the room’s chilly, so I’d say somewhere between eight and twelve hours. I can be more accurate when I do the PM. Judging by the marks inside his mouth, something was inserted into it by force.”
“A weapon?”
He shook his head, his back to her. “Fingers, I reckon. We’ll take swabs, test for DNA. Look more closely for fingernail marks. Of course it might just turn out to be him forcing his own fingers down his throat, but the bruising doesn’t quite fit with that.”
“So you think someone forced drugs down his throat?”
“There’s remains of foaming, could be drugs, could be something else. But let’s not jump to conclusions, eh, Inspector? I’ll run a toxicology analysis when he’s safely with us, and then I can tell you. But you might still be looking at a suicide.”
Zoe folded her arms across her chest. The kid was a recluse, with no friends. And the way the young women talked about him made her suspect he was an outcast. Suicide would fit.
“Fine,” she said. “Let me know when you’ve got the results.”
She gave Adi a nod and turned to leave. She still needed to follow up on the investigation into the New Street bomber, now known as the Magpie case. Then there was the Professional Standards investigation to worry about, not to mention Ian’s looming trial. If she’d been dragged into this and it turned out to be a wild goose chase…
“You leaving us?” Adi asked.
“I’ll be in the office if you need me,” she said. “Failing that, I’ll be somewhere along the ten-mile hike back to my car.”
Chapter Nine
Kayla knew they were out there, talking about her. They always were.
She lay on the bed, her face buried in the pillow, wishing she’d never agreed to do that stupid video. The party had been OK, she’d been chatting to a girl from her course. She’d have been happy staying where she was. But Lin had a way of making you do what she wanted.
Kayla pushed herself up, dragging her dark hair back from her face, and went to the door. She had to escape sometime, and she knew where she’d rather be.
She pushed the door open a crack and peered out. The hallway was quiet, the only sound music coming from Shavon’s room. Kayla slipped through the door and crept to the outer door, careful to close it silently behind her.
She hurried to the back stairs, avoiding the main flight down to the front entrance and security office. She raced down, her breathing shallow. At the bottom was a fire door that wasn’t connected to an alarm.
Outside, a group of students stood smoking under a tree. She recognised Ricky from her corridor.
“Kayla.”
She winced and turned to face him. “Hi, Ricky.”
“You OK?”
“Fine. I thought everyone was still shut in.”
“Hah! They decided they couldn’t imprison us any longer.”
“We’d have broken out if they hadn’t let us go,” said a blonde girl next to him. She shivered. None of them were wearing coats, despite the February cold.
Kayla realised she hadn’t stopped to get a coat herself. It didn’t matter, she didn’t have far to go.
“See you later,” she said.
The students nodded and turned back to their huddle. Kayla ran across the damp grass. When she reached Edgbaston Park Road she felt herself breathe freely again, as if the campus had been suffocating her. She hurried towards Selly Oak, ignoring the blast of exhaust fumes from a bus as she rounded the corner to the Bristol Road.
Five minutes later, she was hammering on the front door of a terraced house, her limbs trembling with the cold.
The door opened and a skinny guy with an undercut and blotchy skin stared at her. “What you doing here?”
“Is he in?”
“Dunno. See for yourself.”
The man stood to one side and Kayla swept past him and up the stairs. She knocked on a bedroom door then pushed it open without waiting for a reply.
“Kayla.” The man inside stood up from his seat on the floor, knocking over an ashtray and shoving something inside his shirt.
“It’s only me, Jenson. You’re fine.”
He winked at her and brought out the object.
“Give me some,” she said, holding out her hand. “I need it.”
“It’s not the usual,” he said. “I don’t think…”
“Just let me.” She yanked it from his hand and brought it to her lips. She inhaled deeply and choked as the sharp smoke filled her lungs.
“Shit, Jenson, what the—?”
“I did warn you.” He took the pipe from her hand and guided her into an armchair. Its stuffing was spilling out, but she was glad of the support.
“What was it?” she croaked, her head spinning.
“Meth.”
“Shit.”
He laughed. “Yeah.” He held the pipe towards her. It was made of glass, not ceramic. “Wrong kind of pipe, sweetie. You thought it w
as hash, didn’t you?”
She nodded, placing her hands on the arms for balance. She leaned back. The drug had taken her by surprise, but it felt good to lose herself. To let some of the tension go.
“Thanks,” she moaned. He smiled and bent over her, placing a soft kiss on her lips.
She batted him away. “No.”
“It’s OK.” He dropped to the floor and stroked her face. She shuddered, feeling as if some strange creature was pawing at her.
“It’s only me,” he whispered. “It’s fun, makes it more intense.”
“I’ve had a… I’m not in the…”
“Shhh.” He kissed her again, deeply this time. She let his tongue explore her mouth and wrapped her own around it. He was right. It did feel good.
She giggled.
“See?” he said.
“See,” she replied. She reached up and linked her hands around the back of his neck. “See.”
She felt him smile into her mouth. He smelled of heated metal. It was reassuring, familiar.
“I wanted to talk…,” she began.
“Hush.” He pulled her up and helped her to the bed. She stumbled as her foot hit its side, then slumped onto it.
“Kayla, did anyone ever tell you you’re beautiful?”
“You did,” she whispered into his cheek. “Yesterday.”
“So I did.” He fingered her shirt and pulled it up over her breasts. She felt her bra loosen.
“Laurence. He…”
“Shh.”
She stroked his face. His skin was smooth, he’d shaved. “You’re soft,” she said.
“So are you.”
He unbuttoned her shirt and let it fall to the floor. He leaned back and peeled off his own t-shirt. She smiled up at him, her limbs soft. “’S good,” she said.
“I told you.” He put a finger to her lips. “Don’t do it again, though. Dangerous.”
She felt a jolt run through her. She pushed him off and turned, leaning against the wall. “He died.”
Jenson cocked his head. “Who?” He stared into her eyes, his pupils dilated. She wondered how much of the meth he’d smoked.
She blinked. Her mind was clearing, the memory of Laurence lying on his floor jerking her back to reality. “Laurence Thomms. We found him. He…”
Deadly Reprisal (Detective Zoe Finch Book 5) Page 3
