Play Dead (18 page)

K
im found
Bryant just outside the café chatting with a broad male on crutches. She marvelled. Bryant was one of those guys who could run into someone he knew anywhere.

He saw her, shook the man’s hand and joined her as she exited the building.

‘Get anything?’ he asked.

‘She has no memory at all. Who she is, where she works, childhood, nothing. It’s all blank. He did a real number on her head. She’s lucky to be alive at all.’

‘Will anything come back?’ he asked as they neared the car.

‘No one can say. We all know how tricky head injuries can be. We just have to wait and see.’

She took a breath before continuing. ‘But the doc also told me she has hep C.’

He stopped walking. ‘Really?’

The blood disease was infectious and affected the liver. Overall fifty to eighty per cent of people treated were cured.

But more interesting was the fact that hep C was spread primarily by blood-to-blood contact normally associated with intravenous drug use, poorly sterilised medical equipment and transfusions.

‘Not sure how that helps us, guv,’ Bryant said, opening the driver’s door.

‘Me either but let’s just try and escape this bloody hospital for more than a couple of hours, shall we?’

Bryant nodded his agreement.

‘Right, let’s head for Stourton again, eh?’ she said. Hopefully Jemima’s head teacher would be able to offer them something.

‘Er… not quite, guv,’ Bryant said. ‘I’m under strict instructions to return you to the station. Woody wants to see you straightaway and I’m not gonna lie… he doesn’t sound like he wants to treat you to afternoon tea.’

Kim nodded her understanding as she slid into the front seat of the car.

‘Oh and Stace wants you to give her a call back.’

Kim took out her phone and dialled.

‘I think I’ve got her, boss,’ Stacey said without a greeting. Her staff knew when brevity was the order of the day.

‘Our girl?’ she asked hopefully.

‘Yeah, spoke to Jemima’s mother. Jemima was chummy with a girl named Louise Hickman, who had a child when she was fifteen years old. I’ve checked with Education and I’ve got her last known address. It’s from her school days but…’

‘Read it out, Stace,’ Kim said. It was a starting point.

Kim listened to the address, which was just a few miles away in Wordsley.

‘Good job, Stace,’ Kim said, ending the call.

Bryant already appeared to know what was coming.

‘Guv, I said I’m under strict instructions to get you—’

‘And I’m under strict instructions to make sure nobody else ends up like Louise and Jemima, so turn the car around, Bryant.’

She already knew why Woody wanted to see her, and she was in no rush at all for that conversation.

D
awson walked
the entire width of the field one more time. The techs had uncovered nothing more than two pieces of fabric that may or may not have been connected to their victim. Given that the area had been open fields before Westerley meant it was highly unlikely. They had been logged and bagged anyway.

What he’d really been hoping for was the rock that had been used to bash their victim’s head in. He was still hoping for some piece of crucial evidence that would blow the whole case wide open, and that was why he’d walked the field.

He knew that it was part of the forensic procedure to do it, but if he’d learned anything from his boss it was never take anything for granted.

As he walked back towards the grave site of their most recent victim he noted the professor’s presence there.

Dawson quickened his step and sighed. He had already had to instruct the professor to leave the techies to their work on two separate occasions.

‘Professor Wright, may I help you?’ he said as he neared the site.

Bobby, the tech in charge, turned towards him and rolled his eyes.

Professor Wright smiled and shook his head. ‘Just checking that everything is okay.’

Dawson understood that he was responsible for the site but constant interruptions just delayed their progress even more.

Dawson placed a hand on the professor’s elbow and began to guide him away. ‘They’re fine, Professor. They’re a bit of a strange bunch, not very sociable,’ he said. There was no need to be offensive to the man.

He nodded knowingly. ‘Oh I understand. Us scientists tend to be like that.’

‘Quite,’ Dawson agreed, removing his hand from the man’s elbow. There was a good 150 feet of space between them and the techies now.

‘Perhaps you’d like to accompany me to our most recent addition, Sergeant? A very interesting study.’

Dawson hesitated for just a minute before nodding and following the professor’s lead. Anything to keep him away from the site for a while.

The professor walked in a straight line, heading for the very edge of the site.

‘I’d like you to meet Quentin,’ the professor said proudly.

‘Bloody hell,’ Dawson exclaimed, stopping dead in his tracks.

The body was burnt to a frazzle. Every inch he could see was blackened like scorched toast. He was sure that if he touched the body brittle bits of skin would fall off.

But that wasn’t what had surprised him. It was the fact that the body was not lying down. It was set in a crawling motion, both hands flat on the ground and one knee in front of the other.

It appeared staged and even more macabre than the others.

‘You’ll see our friend here has no flowers, as this soul doesn’t deserve them.’

Dawson stared at the eyes that were looking straight ahead as though he was going to continue his journey any second now.

‘Why not?’ he asked, unable to tear away his gaze.

‘Because this man was in the process of setting a booby trap for his wife and three-year-old son. She had refused to take him back after an affair, so he was rigging up a home-made explosive device attached to the front door.’

‘Jesus, what happened?’ Dawson asked, suddenly just grateful it had happened to him instead. A three-year-old in this condition would have haunted him for life.

‘He was in the process of balancing it when a car backfired in the street and made him jump. The bomb exploded all over him.’

‘And this is how he was found?’ Dawson asked incredulously.

Professor Wright nodded as he bent down. ‘Yes, he did not die immediately and attempted to get away.’

Dawson finally managed to look away.

Professor Wright smiled. ‘I can see that this has winded you, Sergeant. My apologies. It is strange how different things affect us.’

‘What are you learning from him?’ Dawson asked, eager to change the subject.

‘Quentin is a joint study between Catherine and myself. The rate and pattern of decomposition in charred remains have not been studied extensively. Body regions displaying significant charring appear to decompose at a faster rate. Areas with very light levels of charring decompose at a slower rate.’

‘But he is completely burnt. How can you compare?’

The professor gently turned Quentin onto his side. His pose remained the same. Dawson immediately saw that there was flesh in between his thighs that had not been burnt.

‘And Catherine?’

‘Again, in forensic practice burnt bodies are amongst the most neglected fields of entomological research. She is analysing the activity of flies on a burnt body in comparison to a normal body.’

Dawson collected his thoughts and forced himself to look away from the body, which looked even more macabre lying on its side.

‘It takes a special kind of guy to patrol this place at night, eh?’

‘None of our guests are going to harm anyone, Sergeant.’

Not the most open response.

‘But you’d need nerves of steel, surely, to wander around here alone at night? There are all sorts of graves to fall into.’

‘Not once you know where they are. There’s something quite soothing about working amongst the dead. It’s not for everyone, of course.’

‘Well Darren seems to like it. He’s been here how long?’

Professor Wright thought for a minute. ‘I’d say a couple of years now. It was an older man before, in the twilight of his career, you might say, but suddenly Curtis brought Darren to site and told us this was our new guy. I’m not sure what happened to old Gregory. It was all rather sudden, but Darren fitted in okay.’

Dawson’s antenna pricked up at this.

Anything sudden tended to happen for a reason.

O
nly one car
occupied the three-car drive of the spacious semi-detached property just behind the old Wordsley hospital site.

The Vauxhall Carlton was parked smack bang in the middle and appeared to expect no other company.

As they approached the roomy box porch, Kim had no idea what they were going to find.

The bell she pressed sounded a high-pitched tune beyond the front door that seemed to sing for just a couple of seconds too long.

The door was opened by a woman who appeared to have settled into her mid-fifties with ease; her frame was slender and her hair completely white.

Her lightly tanned face adopted the expression of polite refusal as she stepped into the porch and opened the door.

‘Mrs Hickman?’ Kim said immediately and with hope.

The woman’s gaze took in both her and Bryant before a frown began to form. Kim wondered if they were looking at Louise’s mother.

She nodded slowly in Kim’s direction as both she and Bryant held up their identification.

‘Detective Inspector Stone and Detective Sergeant Bryant, may we come in?’ Kim asked quietly. The woman was about to receive some unwelcome news.

Mrs Hickman stepped aside and allowed them through.

Light streamed through from the kitchen beyond the hallway. Kim headed towards it and stepped into a kitchen that, although in disarray, was producing a mixture of smells that were delicious and inviting.

The kitchen door was open, leading into a spacious glass conservatory.

‘Please excuse the mess, I have a party tomorrow to prepare for,’ the woman said, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

Kim saw that her shoulders had already filled with tension.

‘We’re here about Louise,’ Bryant said gently.

Mrs Hickman nodded. ‘Of course you are.’

The woman leaned back against the counter top and slid her hands into the pockets of her three-quarter-length cotton trousers.

She appeared resigned to hearing something negative.

‘Mrs Hickman, could you tell us the last time you saw your daughter?’

‘December twenty-fifth in oh five,’ she said immediately.

Eleven years. Considerably longer than the time since their victim had been murdered.

‘You remember so clearly?’ Kim asked.

‘Yes, Inspector, I do. Now what can I do for you?’

‘Could you please confirm that your daughter Louise gave birth to a child when she was in her mid-teens?’

Mrs Hickman nodded. ‘Three days before her sixteenth birthday,’ she said and folded her arms. ‘Now will you please tell me why you are here?’

She appeared eager to learn what she had already ascertained was going to be bad news. Kim got the impression she had been waiting for news for years.

‘Please sit down, Mrs Hickman,’ Bryant advised.

‘I’m perfectly fine, thank you.’

Kim took a step forwards. ‘We have uncovered the body of a female, and we have reason to believe it is Louise.’

A small cry escaped from her lips. It may have been the news she was expecting, but it had impacted her all the same.

She stepped around to the dining table and pulled out a chair. Bryant held out a hand to steady her but she waved it away.

Bryant stepped back as Kim took a seat opposite the woman, whose head had fallen into her hands.

It was a long moment before she quietly shook her head and raised it. Although her eyes were red, Kim was surprised to see there were no actual tears.

‘It was only a matter of time,’ she whispered, staring down at the table.

‘Why do you say that?’ Kim asked.

‘How did it happen?’ Mrs Hickman asked, finally meeting her gaze. Kim saw a deep sadness in her eyes, but she couldn’t help feeling that this woman had already grieved for the loss of her child.

‘There is no gentle way to tell you that your daughter was murdered, Mrs Hickman,’ Kim said, trying to feel her way through this situation.

‘Was it drugs related?’ the woman asked.

Kim shook her head. Mrs Hickman obviously thought it was a recent death and yet eleven years of absence had stood between them.

Kim wanted a better understanding of this situation before she revealed the fact that Louise had been dead for years.

‘You haven’t seen Louise for some years, Mrs Hickman. Would you mind sharing the reason for that?’

She nodded and stared over her head. ‘I’m not going to go into too much detail, but, much as it pains me to admit it, my daughter was not a pleasant child. My late husband and I probably spoiled her as she was our only one, but by the time we realised that her behaviour was beyond precocious it was already too late.

‘Every different phase we assumed she would outgrow. We tried to rein her in but she had no fear of any consequences. We tried everything, but nothing stopped the bad behaviour. It’s difficult to discipline a child who simply doesn’t care.

‘Anyway, when she came home and told us she was pregnant and she intended to keep the child we actually hoped it would be the making of her. But she enjoyed the pregnancy more than the child.’

Kim frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘She was the centre of attention, Inspector. The only girl taking a growing bump to school. She enjoyed the attention of being unique. Until the baby was born. Of course we supported her. She lived here with Marcus and we did everything we could but once her friends stopped coming round she lost complete interest in her son.

‘One day she left the house without telling me. I had no idea until I heard the baby’s cries from upstairs. He was wet and hungry, and she had just left him. We argued constantly about her refusal to take care of her child, but as usual she cared nothing for the consequences of her actions.’

Kim hadn’t noticed Bryant sit down at the table.

‘So you took care of her child?’ Kim asked.

‘Of course. The time spent away got longer and longer. First a few days, then a few weeks and then months. This continued until Christmas Day eleven years ago when Marcus was five.’

She took a breath and continued. ‘She stormed in on Christmas morning after being gone for almost four months. She was drunk and tried to take Marcus. He was terrified. He barely knew her. She only wanted him because she’d been told she had a good chance of getting a council flat if she had a child. Her father physically threw her out and told her not to come back until she’d cleaned up her act. We never saw her again, but we took precautions in case it happened again.’

Kim assumed they had applied for guardianship of Marcus to ensure his safety.

Mrs Hickman looked around at the baking ingredients and smiled. ‘He insisted on a home-made cake like normal except this time it came with the proviso that I don’t tell his friends. Her son is healthy and happy, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t think of Louise every day,’ she said as the first tear fell from her eye. ‘I always had hope that she could turn her life around but…’

Kim understood. The hope ended now.

Quietly she pushed back the chair. There were few questions to ask. This woman did not even know her daughter, had not seen her for many years before her murder.

‘Thank you for being so open and honest, Mrs Hickman,’ Kim said, holding out her hand.

Mrs Hickman shook it in return and made to stand.

Kim ushered her back down. ‘We’ll see ourselves out,’ she said.

A formal identification would follow but Kim knew they had their girl.

She paused at the door that led into the porch.

A little girl with mousy brown hair and a red chequered dress frowned from an enlarged school photo.

‘I’ve got one of mine at home looking just like that,’ Bryant observed with a sad smile. ‘Photographer’s nightmare but a pretty little girl.’

Kim stared for a moment at the photograph and saw something that took her by surprise.

‘What else do you see there, Bryant?’ she asked.

‘Awww… shit,’ he whispered as his eyes found the same thing hers had.

A kirby grip fashioned with half a heart.