I did it. I killed her, and there was a satisfaction to the twist of the neck that was morbidly gratifying for me. A slight thing, she didn’t put up much of a fight, but it wouldn’t have mattered if she had. She was going to die regardless.
There were so many stages of the killing process to enjoy. The planning, the how and the where and eventually, the who. There is a power that comes with deciding whose life I’m going to take. I relish that anticipation, enjoy the dominance I have. I imagine their life and the grief it will cause. I want to inflict the maximum amount of pain on the victim and their family.
The act itself is almost the best part. I had visualised the manner of death way before I touched her. In truth, there was a little disappointment. It was much harder to twist the neck than I’d thought. Even with one hand on the chin and one hand on the top of the head, there was no definite crack of the neck as the spinal cord snapped, making a sound like it does in the films. I would have liked to hear a sound. Instead, she just fell limply against me, her eyes staring up in an anticlimactic kind of way.
I must try not to think about such things; my enjoyment pales against the practicality and prefers to remember it how I saw it in my mind’s eye. And anyway, it was quick, it was clean, and I will not get caught. That’s what matters the most.
I saw your face again. I see it every time I take a life. I pretend that I’m killing you instead of the victim, and that’s okay because I can continue to kill you a million times – over and over again.
Yes, every single part of murder is enjoyable to me. But nothing compares to my favourite part.
The best is yet to come, I think to myself as I take out my phone.
Thirteen
‘Run that by me again,’ Kim said once Stacey had updated her on the shuffle case.
‘She has some kind of sympathy for her attacker,’ Stacey repeated. ‘She was even grateful that he pulled her shorts up and covered her once he’d finished. I get why they couldn’t use her,’ she admitted.
Kim got it. ‘She’d have been more like a witness for the defence. His barrister would have gone to town and twisted the whole thing so it would have appeared consensual.’
‘Exactly, boss, which would have weakened the case for the first victim, Gemma Hornley. It’s likely he’d have walked and paid for neither crime.’
Kim agreed. ‘Well, given that we’ve got a murder investigation to—’
‘Can I stay on it, boss?’ Stacey asked. ‘She’s still a victim and she’s being denied justice for telling the truth.’
Kim opened her mouth to refuse until the irony of Stacey’s words hit home. Truth and justice didn’t always go hand in hand, but they had to give it their best shot.
‘Okay, but if I need to pull you off while Bryant and I—’
‘Err… present and fit for duty, boss,’ Penn said, throwing his hand in the air to indicate he could pick up any slack on Stacey’s behalf.
‘Noted,’ Kim said.
Despite his offer, she was not prepared to let him spread himself too thinly. She couldn’t help going a bit easier on Penn given his recent loss, even though he didn’t request it. He was now sole carer for his brother, which would include a period of adjustment for both of them.
‘Okay, guys, there’s little more we can do tonight on Katrina’s murder, so go home, sleep well and be back at seven o’clock sharp.’
It was almost eight now, so that gave them all a good eleven-hour turnaround.
Not so much for her. She had yet to brief Woody on the INEPT meeting, but once she’d done that her involvement with the event at the end of the week would be well and truly over.
Fourteen
Penn opened the door of his home and took a good long sniff.
He swallowed his disappointment. He’d hoped to be greeted by the delicious aromas of baking that filled the house when Jasper was cooking. Jasper hadn’t been allowed to cook alone since the time he’d allowed a pan of melting butter to burn when his best friend, Billy, had sent him a link to some YouTube videos. The pan had caught fire, and Jasper had had the sense to run next door for help.
Lily, a retired schoolteacher, had put out the fire and told Jasper that any time he wanted to cook without Penn she’d come round and be chief taster.
Every night when he phoned to say he was going to be late, he hoped his brother had taken Lily up on her kind offer and returned to what he loved to do.
Looked like Stacey was going to be disappointed again tomorrow. His brother hadn’t set foot in the kitchen since their mother’s funeral. In fact, he’d barely left his room at all.
Penn headed up the stairs and knocked gently on a door that was now permanently closed.
He received a grunt in response.
Penn fixed a smile to his face before he entered the room.
‘Hey, bud, fancy trying out a new recipe I found for cheese scones?’ he asked, ruffling his brother’s hair.
Jasper pulled away and shook his head.
Penn tried not to let the gesture hurt him. His brother was in pain and it was up to him to keep things as normal as he could.
‘Come on, mate, I’ll even let you grate the cheese.’
Jasper shook his head and continued to focus on the game.
‘Okay, what if I let you?…’
‘No, Ozzy,’ he said testily.
Anger was not a natural state for his brother, so Penn knew when not to push.
‘Okay, what do you want to eat?’
‘Not hungry.’
‘Mate, you gotta eat something,’ Penn insisted.
He could already see that his brother had dropped a few pounds, offering Penn the proof he’d been right that Jasper had eaten as much as he’d baked.
‘You want beans on toast?’
Hardly a balanced meal, but it was his favourite and it was hot and right now he’d take it.
Jasper shook his head.
‘Mate…’
‘Had a noodle.’
Penn opened his mouth to argue and thought better of it. One of Jasper’s biggest frustrations was being treated like a small child when he was almost sixteen years of age. He knew his own mind and Penn sometimes had to respect his right to choose.
‘Okay, bud, I’ll be downstairs if you want me,’ he said, leaving the door slightly ajar.
He was halfway down the stairs when he heard it close completely.
Penn switched on the kettle for a cuppa and checked the bin. Sure enough on top was a half-empty pot noodle container. It wasn’t enough, but he couldn’t force-feed the kid.
If he was honest, he felt he was in uncharted territory. He missed his mum every day. The months they’d known she was dying hadn’t prepared him for the eventual loss.
Between the three of them they’d stumbled along. His mum had been the firm but gentle parent with Jasper, always able to reach him, and Penn had been the older brother, making Jasper laugh, encouraging him to try new things while protecting him from the harsher elements in the world. Both he and his mum had held a place in Jasper’s life, fulfilled a role in his development. But what was his role now? Was he fun-loving brother or firm parent? If he was both, how did he juggle the two? All he knew was that his brother needed him to be strong and that’s what he intended to be.
He poured the water into the cup as his phone began to ring.
He smiled when he saw the caller’s name.
‘Hey, Lynne,’ he answered.
‘Yo, comrade,’ she responded. It was how she had greeted him when they’d worked together at West Mercia.
He had been grateful for her support at his mum’s funeral, and she’d called to check on him a couple of times since.
‘What you up to?’ he asked, enjoying hearing the sound of her voice.
‘Just finished a long shift and wondered if you two guys wanted to help me eat my own body weight in pizza?’
‘Where’s Simon?’ he asked. Lynne had been engaged to the accountant for almost five years.
&
nbsp; ‘Oh, err… squash practice. Not sure what he’s practising for, but hey ho with all this practice he’s gotta be getting better.’
Penn laughed out loud. It was a good feeling. Lynne had always been able to make him laugh.
‘So how about it, homey?’
The thought of sharing a meal and some light conversation with his old colleague was tempting. Chatting had always been easy between them. They shared similar taste in films, and Lynne’s own music collection was as eclectic as his own. Yet as much as he appreciated her sympathy mission, he didn’t feel that either he or Jasper would be very good company this evening.
‘Thanks for the offer, Lynne, but maybe another time, eh?’
‘No probs, matey. Just give me a shout when you’re up to it. I’ll be waiting for your call.’
‘Cheers, buddy,’ he said, ending the conversation.
As soon as the line went dead, the brief light that had shone into his mind was gone. Her company was something he could have used, but a part of him recoiled at being the guest of honour at anyone’s pity party.
He knew people felt sorry for his lot in life. He didn’t have the same freedom as most guys his age. In the wake of his mother’s death, Jasper was his number one responsibility and would always be his top priority.
Fifteen
Lynne fought the disappointment that rested heavily in her stomach as the phone went dead in her ear. All day she’d been looking forward to spending a couple of hours with her old colleague.
She’d known she was going to miss him when he transferred out of West Mercia. Their easy working relationship had grown into a firm friendship she valued and intended to maintain. Her working day was so much longer without her partner in crime.
She smiled sadly as she remembered their years working together. For a damn good police officer, he didn’t notice some things that were staring him in the face.
Over the years she had watched him wrestle with the decision to leave his old team to move back home to his ailing mother. She’d watched his commitment to his younger brother, for which he wanted no comment or praise.
She had taken him out for a drink on some of his tougher days.
It was only once he’d left that she’d realised she looked forward to going to work more than she looked forward to going home, and that Penn was a big part of that feeling.
She had wanted to see him tonight in the hope that he’d finally start to take notice.
She wanted him to see that she didn’t seek his company out of pity, that she genuinely wanted to spend time with him. She’d wanted him to notice her new hairstyle and the touch of make-up that she rarely applied for work.
But mostly she had wanted him to notice the absence of the engagement ring on her finger. Yes, there was a part of her that wanted to wave her left hand in front of his face, but what if he didn’t feel the same way? Did she want to risk ruining a genuine friendship and lose him altogether? For her that wasn’t an option. If he did feel the same, she would just have to wait for him to wake up to his own emotions in his own time.
But that wouldn’t be tonight, she thought as she saw the light illuminate in the front bedroom.
She started the car, glanced at the pizza boxes on the passenger seat and slowly pulled away from the kerb.
Sixteen
It was after eleven when Kim let herself into her home.
‘Hey, boy,’ she said, reaching down and stroking Barney’s head.
Charlie from down the road had dropped him off around 7 p.m., said his text message, followed by an emoji of a panting dog. There was something surreal about a man in his early seventies discovering emojis.
‘Did you have a good day, buddy?’ she asked as he followed her to the kitchen.
His day had started at 6 a.m. with a run around the park before another soul appeared. Barney had never reacted well to other dogs, and she had never forced the issue. She didn’t play well with others either, and efforts to force her to do so were met with hostility and aggression, just like Barney. He was far more interested in human interaction, and she wouldn’t lose his trust by forcing him to be anything else.
‘Had a good afternoon with Charlie?’
Worryingly, she could swear he nodded.
It was a great arrangement that worked well for everyone. Charlie had lost his own beloved dog a few years earlier and missed the company, but no longer wished for the responsibility of vet visits and illness. What had started as Charlie popping in to let Barney out for a bit had developed into him collecting Barney for an afternoon walk around the block, taking him back to his home and spoiling him for a few hours before bringing him back. It was how she envisaged treating nephews and nieces if she’d had them. Get all the good bits but none of the responsibility. Luckily, Charlie was not against the occasional overnight stay if the need arose.
And she’d considered that tonight, but the thought of returning to an empty house had stopped her from making the call.
‘Oh, come here, you big doofus,’ she said, lowering herself to the floor. The day had been long and hard, and she needed just a few minutes’ break from her own head.
Barney ran into the kitchen and returned with the carcass of a stuffed toy he’d ripped open and gutted a couple of days earlier. The scraggy piece of material was now his new best friend.
‘Give it here,’ she said, tugging on what might have been a tail or an ear.
He pulled back, wagging his tail, his eyes bright and alive.
‘Mine,’ she said, feeling the stresses of the day lift as she played tug-of-war with the dog.
After a few minutes, he dropped the toy and nestled into her body.
‘Aah, this is what you want, eh?’ she asked, scratching at the skin beneath the dense fur.
‘Time for Aunty Dawn to come get you, my boy.’
Barney had developed a tolerance for the groomer. She came and collected him at the end of the day to keep him separate from her other clients.
He nuzzled Kim and looked up at the counter top. The place she always deposited his leash.
‘Okay, boy, let’s get the coffee on first,’ she said, getting to her feet. She opened the back door in case he was desperate to pee.
He knew the routine. Coffee pot went on before their late-night walk, whatever the time.
Sleep experts would be shaking their heads at her right now. She knew that counting down the hours until she was back at work did her no good. Neither did making a fresh pot of coffee before bed or taking a brisk walk with her dog around midnight, but she’d tried it their way and that hadn’t worked for her either. The relaxation tapes had annoyed the hell out of her, and sleep hygiene was a set of rules she just couldn’t follow.
Only one thing had the power to fully relax her, she thought, opening the door that led from the kitchen to the garage.
The last motorcycle she’d restored had been sold a week ago to a Japanese collector. The money she’d received was already in the account of Enterprise Electronics, ready to update the communication equipment used by Lucy Payne, a smart, courageous teenager with muscular dystrophy she’d met during one of the team’s first big cases. The girl and her father didn’t know the source of the anonymous donations, and that was fine by her.
But the working area of her garage was now empty. Her tools were clean, tidy and in their rightful place. A thin layer of dust covered the iPod full of classical music, and she’d never seen anything so depressing in her life.
She closed the door, stepped back into the kitchen and took out her phone.
The call was answered on the fourth ring by a voice thick with sleep.
‘What the fuck?…’
‘You got that frame for me yet, Dobbie?’ she asked. He was the local scrap merchant and the provider of many of her bike frames.
‘Fuck me. Do yer know what fucking time it is?’
‘Yeah, but I’m your best customer. So, have you got it yet?’
She’d asked him to source the frame for a V
incent Black Shadow, which she planned to rebuild from scratch.
‘Bloody hell. This is police harassment, yer know.’
‘Not yet but it could be. So…’
‘They’re like rockin’ horse shit, but I might have summat for yer tomorra. I’ll shout yer some time reasonable.’
‘Three hundred quid, right?’ she said, confirming the price they’d agreed.
‘Yeah, yeah, now f—’
Kim ended the call before he could swear at her again.
She smiled hopefully as she reached for Barney’s leash. Having a restoration project kept her sane. It kept her occupied. It channelled her thoughts. It was where she directed her stress at the end of the day. It helped keep her bad temper and natural aggression at bay.
She hoped Dobbie came through for her soon.
Everyone preferred it when she had a project.
Seventeen
‘Okay, kiddies, let’s get to it,’ Kim said, placing her coffee beside her as she took her spot on the edge of the spare desk.
She was pleased to see that Katrina’s details had made it onto the wipe board. Her team knew how she felt about victim identification. This time yesterday, Katrina Nock had been a stranger to them all, but now she was their top priority. Their relationship with her was now paramount. They knew where she lived, they knew her family and by the time they were finished they would know her killer. Every victim had an identity and a story.
‘Thanks, Bryant, but why have you put the little circle above the “i” in Katrina’s name?’ she asked.
He smirked. ‘I was trying to do Stacey’s writing to confuse you.’
Kim raised an eyebrow. ‘If I’m that easily deceived, we’re all fucked! So, anyone had any thoughts on our victim’s murder or murderer?’ she asked, crossing her arms.
‘Not getting it, boss,’ Stacey said, shaking her head. ‘She was a young mother out shopping with her kid. She wasn’t showy or part of any bad crowd. She had no enemies we know of and the method was clean.’
Deadly Cry: An absolutely gripping crime thriller packed with suspense (Detective Kim Stone Crime Thiller Book 13) Page 5