Deadly Cry: An absolutely gripping crime thriller packed with suspense (Detective Kim Stone Crime Thiller Book 13)

by Angela Marsons

  ‘Unfortunately, yes,’ she answered, seeing as her leads appeared to be going nowhere.

  ‘Can you look up the murder of Rhona Stubbs and see if you can find any mention of scratches? She was stabbed eight months ago in Walsall, and the same on the scratches for Bryan Thompson, who was assaulted six years ago outside a chip shop in Kingswinford.’

  ‘Bloody hell, Penn, what are you up to? You want me to look at a case from six years ago?’

  He nodded distractedly as he looked at the screen and then scribbled something down.

  ‘I can find no way to link the scratches to anything,’ Alison said. ‘They’re not present in every crime, which fits no pattern, and they don’t actually say anything.’

  Alison had been tasked to investigate the scratches further, and that was her way of telling Penn he was wasting his time.

  ‘So what are you thinking, Penn?’ Stacey asked, even though she agreed with the profiler.

  ‘I’ve got more stuff to look at, but I think there might be something in the pairs theory, and I think it’s been going on for years.’

  Seventy-Seven

  ‘She’s outside,’ the family liaison officer said as he opened the door.

  ‘How’s she doing, Craig?’

  ‘As you’d expect. She fell asleep on Archie’s bed once you’d left last night but was awake before six. She’s alternating between crying and wanting to get out there and search for Archie.’

  Completely natural reactions, Kim thought.

  ‘Just one thing, though,’ he said, closing the door and dropping his voice to a whisper. ‘Her brother’s been here since sevenish and he’s err—’

  ‘Who is it, Craig?’ said a strong voice from the kitchen.

  Kim said nothing and waited for the owner to come into view.

  ‘DI Stone, this is Robert Harvey,’ Craig said. ‘Robyn’s brother.’

  Kim could see a vague resemblance, but the features of this man were harsher, sharper. He matched Bryant’s six-foot height but with an additional couple of inches’ width.

  He stepped towards Bryant with his hand outstretched. ‘Inspector Stone, my sister—’

  ‘That’s DI Stone, but I’m still pleased to meet you,’ Bryant said, pointing her way before returning the handshake.

  He glanced at her without offering an apology for his error. And already she didn’t expect one.

  ‘Do you have news?’ he asked, standing in a way that prevented her moving further into the house.

  ‘Mr Harvey, I’m here to speak with your sister,’ she said, stepping forward.

  He didn’t move, meaning she was now very close to him and could smell the cause of the tidemarks at the armpit of his powder pink shirt.

  ‘And I would prefer you to share any news you have with me first.’

  ‘As you are not directly related either by marriage or blood to our victim, that is not going to happen, so please, stand aside.’

  ‘The vic… oh, you mean Louise. I assumed you were here with news of Archie, seeing as you can do nothing for Louise now. Any news would be better for my sister if it was delivered by me,’ he said, standing aside now that he felt he’d made himself clear and had had the last word.

  Kim was surprised at the dismissive nature of his manner towards Louise, his sister’s wife.

  ‘Any information will be shared with your sister first,’ she said, edging past him and taking the last word for herself. ‘But she’ll be safe with us if you’d like to take the opportunity to freshen up.’

  She continued walking to the rear of the house, choosing to ignore the fact he was following Bryant. The man did not take a hint.

  Robyn sat outside on one half of a wooden companion set, with a single mug on the triangle piece that linked the two seats. The oversize cardigan appeared to swamp her slight frame, which was clad in the same clothes as the night before. Her long brown hair had been tied into a haphazard ponytail.

  Kim was suddenly struck by the lonely figure who might be thinking that she would never share that seat with her wife again. Her gaze was fixed on the small playhouse at the end of the garden.

  ‘We knew he was too big for it,’ Robyn said softly as Kim approached. ‘But we didn’t have the heart to throw it away. We can’t throw anything away. You see, there’s a memory in everything. I have every piece of Archie’s clothing. Sounds crazy I know, but I remember something different for every single item. Just one small thing that stops me from being able to part with it.’

  Kim lowered herself onto the seat beside the woman, who finally turned. Kim’s breath caught in her chest. Never had she seen a woman more haunted and bereft of emotion. It was as though every feeling had been sucked out of her.

  ‘I don’t want to be here, you know,’ she said, turning away again.

  ‘Robyn, I need—’

  ‘Please, let me gather myself for a moment, Inspector. I’m speaking because I’m terrified of what’s going to come out of your mouth if I stop, and I’m trying to prepare myself.’

  ‘I understand that…’

  ‘No, you don’t,’ she said with authority but without anger. ‘Everything I love in this world has been taken away from me; my wife is dead, my son is…’

  ‘Well, strictly speaking, he’s not your son, is he?’ Robert asked from the kitchen doorway. ‘Well, not biologically anyway.’

  ‘Piss off, Rob,’ she snapped.

  ‘I’m just trying to help.’

  ‘How does that help?’ Robyn asked. ‘You think I love him any less because I didn’t give birth to him?’

  ‘Well, technically…’

  ‘How about technically you fuck off,’ she spat, rising from the chair and turning.

  Bryant, who was standing closer to the brother, looked to her for guidance. Should he step in or not? Kim shook her head. She would have liked to have responded to his insensitive and cruel comments herself, but by her own admission, Robyn had rarely stuck up for herself, allowing Louise to be the reactive one in the marriage. Robyn needed to do this for her own piece of mind.

  ‘You never liked her, and you hated our life together. You’ve never taken our marriage seriously or treated Archie like your nephew. Look at your face; you’re not even sorry she’s dead.’

  The tension that burned between the two was palpable, causing Kim to wonder why he was here at all. They obviously weren’t close.

  Kim wondered if Robyn could hear her thoughts as she continued.

  ‘Why did you come? Just to talk about your perfect wife and your two perfect daughters? Did you come to gloat because I’m miserable and hurting?’

  The rage burned in Robyn’s eyes, but Kim was surprised to see amusement in the expression of her brother.

  ‘You always wanted to be better than me. All our lives you’ve competed for attention. You always wanted to win at something. Well, here you go. I have nothing, but just so you know, your wife is a bitch and your daughters are brats.’

  ‘You evil cow,’ he said as his face reddened. ‘You couldn’t get a man, so you settled for a woman, and now you’re pissed off with me because my life is great and yours is—’

  ‘Mr Harvey, I think it’s time for you to leave,’ Bryant said, taking a step forward.

  The man hesitated for a few seconds before storming back into the house.

  ‘I’m sorry you had to witness that,’ Robyn said, collapsing back into her seat. ‘As I explained last night, we’ve never got along. We used to pretend for our parents, but there’s no need for that any more. Both gone,’ she explained.

  The woman expelled a deep breath and braced herself.

  ‘Go on, Inspector, I’m ready for whatever you’ve got to tell me.’

  ‘Robyn, I’m here to tell you not to give up hope. We firmly believe Archie is still alive.’

  Seventy-Eight

  Kate applied a second coating of lipstick before popping the cosmetic into her handbag. She wanted to look her best later.

  She was due to collect Tyra
in half an hour to commence what would be their last day of the book tour. Two more signings and the deed would be done. The two-week tour had gone without incident, except for a few mean shout-outs from people passing by the bookstores. All moved on quietly by security.

  Only last night, Tyra had messaged her for an update on book sales. Kate had promised she’d have an accurate figure later today, but that had been a lie. She had an accurate figure almost by the hour.

  Sales of the book were not what she or the publisher had expected or hoped for. The initial buy-in had been promising but reported till sales were less than twenty per cent of the initial orders after two weeks. Kate hadn’t expected the book to make the Sunday Times bestseller list, but it was barely making any list at all. The e-book wasn’t faring much better, but priced at almost ten pounds, it seemed the publishers failed to understand that most readers wouldn’t pay that for something they couldn’t physically hold.

  She’d hoped the book tour and associated interest would bring potential foreign deals and translations. Just a week ago, publishers in Germany, Hungary and Spain had been showing interest in making a deal, but the conversations had ended, and the emails had dried up and Kate was no longer receiving responses to her messages. What appeared to have been a passing interest had died completely, and this was what happened if you didn’t seize every single opportunity.

  The public and press were losing interest. The requests for interviews were dying off and even social media appeared to have softened towards Tyra. Fascination in the ex-glamour model and her story was waning.

  But there was a spring in her step as she locked the door of the cottage behind her because she was sure that would have changed by the end of the day.

  Seventy-Nine

  ‘Not sure the brother was as supportive as he could have been,’ Bryant said once they were sitting in Sam’s Bostin Bites in Old Hill. The café was double fronted with seating and a takeout counter for homemade products. Bryant had bagged a couple of Scotch eggs and two red onion sausage rolls to take home later.

  Kim thought Bryant’s assessment was a little on the charitable side.

  He continued. ‘Seemed a bit of an…’

  ‘Arrogant prick are the words you’re looking for,’ she offered, just to help him out.

  ‘Yeah, but there was more to it than that. He was superior, judgemental, dismissive, almost like he was gloating.’

  Kim nodded her agreement as she sipped her drink.

  ‘You think it was wise to tell Robyn about Archie, that we think he’s still alive?’

  ‘Absolutely, the woman needs something to hope for.’

  ‘You really think we can bring him back safely?’ Bryant asked, and she swore she heard an element of doubt in the question.

  ‘We’re about to find out,’ Kim said as Frost entered the café and tottered towards them in her four-inch heels.

  Once upon a time, Kim had been amused by the woman’s insistence on wearing the tallest shoes she could find despite appearing clumsy and awkward. Until she had found out that the woman had one leg shorter than the other and had been teased about the limp all her life.

  Bringing even more attention to the way she walked was Frost’s unique way of hiding her own insecurities.

  ‘Hey, Frost,’ Kim said as she took a seat and placed her studded Michael Kors bag on the spare chair.

  ‘Knock it off, Stone. You’re giving me anxiety. This courteousness unnerves me, and I prefer you being a bitch. It’s a persona I know and expect.’

  ‘Frost, we agree on something,’ Bryant said. ‘Because her being nice freaks me out too.’

  Kim offered her colleague a look.

  ‘I want to do it again,’ Kim said.

  ‘You think that was definitely him?’ Frost asked, not needing any further explanation.

  Kim knew that she was treading a fine line with what she should or shouldn’t reveal to the reporter, but she was asking for a favour. She had suspected he would respond better to a message sent through a small local paper rather than a national. It wasn’t fame and notoriety he was after. It was contact, and this was more intimate and personal. Like it or not, Frost’s articles were now the medium through which she and the killer spoke.

  She also knew that engaging with a man who had killed three women was not without risk. Just saying one thing wrong could destroy the rapport he thought he had with her. Her fear in doing that was for the safety of Archie.

  ‘So you want another online article?’

  Kim nodded.

  ‘Anything new to add?’ Frost asked hopefully.

  ‘Nice try, but no.’ She wasn’t offering the woman an exclusive. ‘Can you not do some kind of round-up of events so far?’

  Frost raised one eyebrow. ‘Yeah, cos my editor just loves me to write stuff that goes over the same ground we’ve already covered.’

  Kim appreciated Frost’s subtle reminder that she had a boss too.

  ‘Sorry, Stone, can’t—’

  ‘For an intelligent woman, you’re not thinking very clearly,’ Kim said, having anticipated Frost’s resistance. ‘I can give you nothing, except the fact I’m asking you for a favour. Do you want to think about that for a minute?’

  A slow smile spread across her face. ‘So you’ll owe me one?’

  Kim nodded.

  ‘Which I can call in any time I want?’

  ‘Not a fucking chance,’ Kim said. ‘But I will pay you back and you know it.’

  Frost hesitated for only a second before reaching for her notebook.

  ‘Okay, what do you want in there? I’ll work the article around that.’

  ‘Okay, I want you to say that not every murderer is evil, that if they want to stop they can. That no one else has to die and that help is available and—’

  ‘Bloody hell, Stone, do you want to tuck him in and read him a bedtime story too? This monster has killed three women and—’

  ‘I’m trying to make sure he doesn’t kill a fourth. Unless he chooses you and then I’m not all that—’

  ‘Okay, carry on,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘You must mention my name, and you must emphasise that no one else needs to die. Got it?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, but working it into a bloody news story is another matter.’

  ‘I have every faith in you, Frost,’ Kim said, pushing back her chair.

  ‘Whatever,’ she said, taking out her laptop and making herself comfortable at the corner table in the café.

  As they stepped outside, Kim glanced back at Frost’s fingers flying across the keyboard.

  Whatever words she’d chosen to use, it was a plea for him to stop what he was doing, and with it being almost twenty-four hours since the last murder, Kim only hoped that she wasn’t too late.

  Eighty

  ‘Penn, what the hell are you doing?’ Stacey asked as he wrote furiously on the wipe board.

  ‘Give me a minute, Stace,’ he said without turning.

  ‘You’re just writing random incidents on the board that have nothing to do with—’

  ‘Okay, I’m done,’ he said, standing back.

  Stacey looked at the completed board and tried to take it all in.

  May 2010 – Burglary – Scratches in sideboard

  May 2010 – Burglary – No scratches

  August 2012 – Peeping Tom – Scratches on window sill

  August 2012 – Peeping Tom – No scratches

  January 2014 – Assault – Scratches on hand

  January 2014 – Assault – No scratches

  February 2019 – Murder – Homeless Woman – Scratches on arm

  February 2019 – Murder – Homeless Woman – No scratches

  Current – Murder 1 – Katrina Nock – Scratches

  Current – Murder 2 – Louise Webb-Harvey – No Scratches

  Current – Murder 3 – Nicola Southall – ???

  She reached the bottom of the list and looked to Penn for explanation.

  Alison looked ju
st as puzzled as she felt.

  ‘I’ve been searching for unsolved crimes involving scratches. I’ve also searched for unsolved crimes with similarities to another crime and for crimes that happened closely together. After a lot of cross-referencing, this is what I’ve got. Every one of these crimes happened within days of each other, and every single one of them is unsolved.’

  He paused, looked at the board and then pointed to the first listing. ‘In May 2010, there was a burglary at a house in West Hagley. The scratches had been carved into the sideboard that held the jewellery that was taken. You couldn’t miss it. Second burglary was a similar MO but just round the corner, in Pedmore. No scratches.’

  Stacey listened as his pointing finger moved down to the second pairing. ‘In August 2012, a twenty-seven-year-old woman in Bilston reported seeing a shadowy figure staring at her through the bedroom window at around 11 p.m. She lived alone and was terrified. When shown where she’d seen the figure, officers noted fresh scratches in the paintwork of the outside window sill. A photo was taken and held on the file. The next day, the same thing happened to a twenty-five-year-old woman in Coseley. Exactly the same, even the same time of night. The victim saw someone peering through the window, but no scratches were found. Still with me?’ he asked.

  Both she and Alison nodded.

  ‘In January 2014, a thirty-nine-year-old male was knocked unconscious as he walked home from his job at a tool-making factory in Wall Heath. The scratches were cut into his hand, and no other injuries were found. The following night, a forty-two-year-old male, Barry Thompson, was hit from behind as he left a pub in Kingswinford. No scratches and no injury other than the head wound. Both made full recoveries but could offer no information about their attackers.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Stacey said. Hearing the explanations behind the one-line notations on the board was causing her to wonder if Penn really was on to something.

  ‘In February 2019, a fifty-four-year-old homeless woman was found murdered by one single stab wound, on the outskirts of Walsall, at the back of a twenty-four-hour service station. They got a partial print but no match. Scratches were found on her lower arm. The following night, Rhona Stubbs, a sixty-three-year-old homeless woman, was found murdered in exactly the same way just outside a new housing development in Great Bridge. No partial print and no scratches. The local team originally had a suspect for Rhona’s murder, as the building site was having a lot of problems with looters and vandals, but there was no physical evidence to link him.’