Silent Scream: An edge of your seat serial killer thriller (Detective Kim Stone crime thriller series Book 1)

by Angela Marsons

  Bryant stopped the car outside the main entrance of the hospital.

  She jumped out and started walking. Bryant caught her up as she reached the bank of lifts.

  ‘Jeez, slow down, Guv. The rugby I can manage. Keeping pace with you is another thing entirely.’

  She shook her head. ‘Come on, Grandpa, quicken up.’

  Kim entered the mortuary. She could see that the bones of victim number two had been laid out on a table beside victim number one.

  Although dead, Kim couldn’t help the feeling of relief that victim number one was no longer alone amongst the stark clinical coldness of the lab. If they’d been friends in life they were now together again.

  Any relief she felt was short-lived as she saw a small collection of bones next to the second victim.

  ‘The baby?’ she asked.

  Daniel nodded.

  No pleasantries or greetings were offered by either of them.

  Kim looked closer. The bones were so small they bore no correlation to an actual form, which Kim found all the more sad.

  And it was Daniel's job to inspect these bones for clues and pretend they were not the building blocks of a baby. A scientific objectivity was required from them all. There was a need to extract the emotion from the process. But he had to dissect clues from a life that never was. It was not something she could do.

  There would be no smart mouth today.

  ‘How old?’ she asked

  ‘Bones begin developing at thirteen weeks. At birth a newborn has approximately 300 bones. I’d estimate this mite to be somewhere between twenty and twenty-five weeks.’

  Most definitely a person, Kim thought. Both ethically and legally. Abortions were not normally carried out after twelve weeks unless a significant risk existed to the mother.

  ‘Be a double murder, then, Guv; both mother and child?’

  Kim nodded. Her hand was drawn to the bones. She wanted to cover them. For what reason she had no idea.

  Daniel moved around the table and stood between the two girls. ‘Don’t know if it’s going to help but I have extra background on victim number one. She was around five foot four, her diet was poor and I’d say she was undernourished.’

  Bryant took out his notebook.

  ‘Her teeth were not cared for and the lower central incisors crossed over. At some stage two fingers on her left hand had been broken and her right tibia had been fractured. These injuries were not sustained close to death.’

  ‘Childhood abuse?’

  ‘More than likely,’ he said, turning away, but not before she’d seen a deep swallow in his throat.

  He turned to victim number two. ‘I don’t have the same level of detail yet on our second victim but I thought there was something you needed to know.’

  He moved to the top of the table and gently moved the lower jaw of victim number one. ‘Take a close look at the inside of the teeth.’

  Kim bent in closer. She could see what Daniel had noted about the lower teeth being crooked but other than having no gums or flesh attached the teeth looked relatively normal.

  ‘Now take a look at victim two.’

  Kim turned and bent over the skull of the second female. The teeth were reasonably straight and no trauma seemed to be evident but there was something different in the colour of the overall enamel.

  ‘Has victim one been cleaned?’ she asked.

  Daniel shook his head. ‘Neither has been cleaned.’

  Kim’s tolerance for guessing games was evaporating quickly. ‘Spell it out for me, Doc.’

  ‘The dirt present on the teeth of victim number one would have found its way into the mouth cavity over time once the flesh had decomposed, probably five to six years after death. The dirt on the inside of the teeth of our second victim was there from the day she was put in the ground.’

  Kim quickly joined the dots scattered by Daniel. There was only one way that the soil could have become fixed to the inside of the teeth so quickly.

  This girl had been buried alive.

  Fifty

  Tracy was the first to 'run away', and there were times when I wish she hadn't. The pang of regret I felt afterwards was so surprising and unknown that I struggled to name it.

  Retrospective thinking does not come naturally to a psychopath unless a plan goes wrong – and then it is only analytical, not emotional.

  The world tipped slightly on its axis as I wrestled this intruder to the ground. Upon submission I understood that the regret came not from what I'd done but that I would not see her again; that I would not watch the swing of her hips as she moved around the room.

  That the regret was only in correlation to what was lost to me.

  The world righted itself.

  Despite this, I knew Tracy was different. There are females that even as young girls stand out. They enter a room and heads turn; eyes rove. It is not to do with beauty but an inner core; a spirit that will not be broken. A resolve that ensures that the owner will achieve whatever they set their mind to.

  It is attractive and arousing.

  I knew that Tracy's nine-year-old body was sold for thirty-five pounds by her mother, Dina. A week later it was sold for considerably more when Dina understood the market value. Two months later, Dina retired from the business completely.

  Tracy was removed by social services two days after her fourteenth birthday. She was brought to Crestwood and placed amongst other abused girls who had been beaten, raped, neglected.

  She was not thankful.

  She was not a victim and she had wanted to stay exactly where she was.

  Having learned the hard way that she could trust no one, Tracy had been hiding earnings from Dina for two years. Tracy didn't complain about life's challenges. She simply turned them to her own advantage.

  She told me all about her early life. It reminded me of a factual narration being read from a book. Maybe once or twice her voice faltered but she quickly recovered and moved on.

  I listened and I nodded and I offered my support.

  And then we had sex. Correction ... I had sex and she struggled. Rape is an ugly word and does not define what took place between us.

  Afterwards she stood and looked me in the eye. Her gaze was cold, calculating and at odds with such a young face.

  ‘That is gonna cost you big,’ she said.

  I had no fear about Tracy telling anyone what had occurred between us. She trusted no one, only herself. She would figure a way to use it against me that would have some benefit to herself.

  I admired her youthful optimism and was not surprised when she cornered me a few months later.

  ‘I'm pregnant and it's yours,’ she said, triumphantly.

  I was amused even as I doubted both parts of her statement. One of the things I liked most about Tracy was her ability to manipulate any situation to her own benefit.

  ‘So?’ I asked. We both knew that negotiations had been opened.

  ‘I want money,’ she said.

  I smiled. Of course she did. The real question was, how much. Past transactions posted a figure in my head. It would be the price of an abortion and a little extra. The normal cost of doing business.

  I remained silent, using the most powerful negotiation tool available.

  She tipped her head and waited. She knew it too.

  ‘How much?’ I asked, indulgently. There was something about this girl.

  ‘Enough.’

  I nodded. Of course I would give her enough.

  ‘Is five hundred …’

  ‘Not even close,’ she said, narrowing her eyes.

  It had been worth a low opening bid. One never knew. It had worked twice before ...

  ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘Five grand or I'm opening my mouth.’

  I laughed out loud. That was more than a little extra. ‘Abortions don't …’

  ‘I ain’t having a fucking abortion. No way. I want money to get away.’ She patted her stomach. ‘To start again.’

&n
bsp; No way in hell was that going to happen. I am a reasonable person. I knew that if she were to make accusations right now she would not be believed; with a walking DNA match I would never be free. The date stamp of its birth would be a constant threat.

  That baby could never be born.

  I nodded my understanding. I needed time to think; time to prepare.

  Later that night I was ready.

  ‘We really should part with a drink,’ I said, pouring a generous measure of vodka into a dribble of Coke.

  ‘You got my money?’ she asked, raising the glass.

  I nodded and patted my top pocket. ‘What are you planning to do?’

  ‘I'm gonna go to London, ger a flat and a job and then goo back to school and get some qualifications.’

  She continued to talk and I continued to top up her glass. Twenty minutes later her eyes were hooded and her words were slurred.

  ‘Come with me, I want to show you something.’ I offered my hand. She ignored it, stood and fell back down. It took a few moments for her to attempt it again. This time she weaved towards the door like a dog on an agility course. I stepped ahead and opened the back door. The sudden gust of fresh air sent her falling into me. I steadied her but her legs buckled forward and she fell to the ground.

  She laughed as she tried to push herself up from the floor. I laughed with her as I grabbed her by the upper arms and marched her across the grass.

  Twenty-five paces north west and I dropped her. She fell into the hole on her back. She chuckled again. So did I.

  I knelt in the pit beside her, my hands at her throat. The feel of her skin against my palms was arousing, even as she tried to swat my hands away. Her eyes were closed and she writhed beneath me in a semi-conscious state. The move of her hips and the swell of her breasts was hypnotic. And could not be ignored. The flimsy shorts were ripped away with one swift movement and immediately I was inside her.

  Her body was pliable in my hands as she drifted in and out of consciousness. She moved as though in a dreamlike state. There was no struggle like the first time.

  When I stood her eyes had rolled backwards. I crouched beside her in the limited space and reached for the ripped shorts. They were mine to keep forever. They would help me remember.

  My hands once more found her throat. My thumbs hovered above her larynx but they just wouldn't press. Her pretty face still smiled from the stupor.

  Frustrated, I jumped out of the hole. The first shovel of dirt landed on her torso. She still didn't open her eyes.

  I worked frantically, filling the hole within minutes. This method of disposal was new to me.

  I stamped the ground down and re-laid the grass.

  For half an hour I stayed with her. I didn't want her to be alone.

  I sat beside the grave and cursed her for what she had made me do. If only she hadn't been so greedy. If she'd just accepted the money for the abortion everything would have been okay.

  But that baby could never have been born.

  Fifty-One

  Bryant sighed heavily as he popped a mint. It was an immediate reaction to leaving a No Smoking environment.

  ‘Can you think of anything worse than being buried alive?’ he asked as they reached the car.

  ‘Yeah, being buried alive with you,’ she said, trying to lighten her own mood.

  ‘Thanks for that, Guv, but I mean, can you even imagine it?’

  She shook her head. It was a manner of death too horrific to comprehend. She guessed most people would wish to go quietly in their sleep. She had always favoured the idea of a gunshot.

  Victim number two would have needed to be unconscious or incapacitated in some way when laid in the hole. She would have regained consciousness surrounded by the dense blackness of the ground. She would have been unable to see or hear or move a muscle. She may have tried to scream, a natural reaction to abject terror. Her mouth would have filled with dirt and every breath she struggled to take would have clogged her nose and throat more. The breath would have slowly left her body as her gulping mouth took in nothing but soil.

  Kim closed her eyes and tried to imagine the fear; the sheer panic that must have paralysed the half-dressed fifteen-year-old girl. It was a blackness that Kim could not comprehend.

  ‘How does such evil grow in a man; I mean, where does it start?’

  Kim shrugged. ‘Edmund Burke called it right when he said, all that is necessary for the triumph of evil is that good men do nothing.’

  ‘What you saying, Guv?’

  ‘I’m saying these victims could not have been his first. Rarely is cold-blooded murder the first sign of an evil mind. There had to have been earlier signs that were either excused or ignored.’

  Bryant nodded and then turned to her. ‘How long do you think it took for her to die?’

  ‘Not long,’ Kim said, but her mind added that it would have felt like a lifetime.

  ‘Thank God.’

  ‘You know, Bryant. I can't do this anymore,’ she said shaking her head.

  ‘What's that, Guv?’

  ‘I can't keep referring to these victims by number; victim one, victim two. They had enough of that when they were alive. We have three bodies and three names and I need to match them up.’

  Kim stared out of the window, a sudden memory shouted up. Her fifteenth birthday had fallen between foster family five and six.

  Two days before that, a member of staff had approached her.

  ‘It's Kim's birthday tomorrow and we're having a collection for a present. Do you want to give?’ he'd asked her.

  She had stared at him for a good long minute to see if he would realise that he'd just asked her to contribute to her own collection. His face had remained blank.

  ‘Where to, Guv?’ Bryant asked, approaching the exit of the hospital.

  With the information they now had from Daniel Bate, Kim knew there was only one person who could help, regardless of the threat she’d received earlier that day.

  ‘Brindleyplace, I think, Bryant. Time to go and see the twins.’

  She focused on the road ahead. ‘I have to know their names.’

  Fifty-Two

  Nicola Adamson opened the door on the second knock, dressed in satin pyjamas. Her hair was mussed and she offered them a wide yawn for a greeting.

  ‘Sorry if we woke you,’ Bryant offered.

  There was no 'if' about it, even though it was way past lunchtime.

  She yawned again and rubbed at her eyes. ‘It was a late night at the club. ‘Got in about five this morning ‒ last night, whenever.’

  Nicola closed the door and headed straight for the kitchen. Although she herself was only thirty-four, Kim wondered if there’d ever been a time when she’d stepped out of bed looking quite so fantastic.

  ‘I’m happy to talk, guys, but let me get some coffee going first.’

  Kim moved aside a handbag and sat on the couch. ‘Your sister came to see me this morning.’

  Nicola’s head snapped around. ‘She did what?’

  ‘She wasn’t very keen on the idea of you helping us.’

  Nicola shook her head and looked away. The jar of instant coffee landed back in the cupboard with a thud.

  Kim got the impression that this wasn’t the first time Beth had interfered.

  ‘What did she say to you?’

  ‘She instructed me to leave you both alone and not to open up old wounds.’

  Nicola nodded and the tension seemed to leave her body.

  ‘She’s just looking out for me, I suppose. I know she appears to be harsh but she’s just being overprotective.’ She shrugged as she sat. ‘It’s just the way twins are.’

  Yes, it is, Kim thought.

  ‘But I’m a big girl and I offered to help so if there’s anything you’d like to ask me, go ahead.’ She smiled. ‘Especially now I have coffee.’

  ‘Your sister recently hurt her leg?’ Kim asked, wondering if it held any clues to the woman’s bitterness.

  ‘No, it’s
an injury from childhood. She had a bad fall after climbing an apple tree when we were eight years old. The bones of her knee were shattered. Eventually, they mended but in cold weather the injury pains her. Now, what can I help you with?’

  Bryant took out his notebook. ‘We have more information on our victims and thought maybe you could help us with identification.’

  ‘Of course, if I can.’

  ‘Our first victim was probably the tallest. Most likely thin and her bottom teeth were crooked ...’

  ‘Melanie Harris,’ Nicola said with certainty.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  Nicola nodded. ‘Oh yes. She suffered a lot because of those teeth. She took a lot of abuse from girls at school until she joined up with the other two. Nobody bullied her after that. She always looked a little odd beside the other two, being so much taller, like a minder.’ Nicola sobered. ‘We were told she had run away.’

  Kim and Bryant said nothing.

  Nicola’s head moved from side to side. ‘Who would have wanted to hurt Melanie?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out.’

  ‘There’s a second victim, Nicola,’ Kim said, quietly. ‘And this one was pregnant.’

  Nicola leaned across the table and reached for the handbag Kim had moved. She took out a box of cigarettes and a disposable lighter. Kim had seen no evidence of a smoking habit when they’d visited the previous day.

  She placed a cigarette in her mouth but her thumb fumbled with the lighter. She got it on the third attempt.

  ‘Tracy Morgan,’ Nicola whispered.

  Kim looked at Bryant who raised his eyebrows.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure. It’s not something I’m particularly proud of but as a youngster I was pretty nosey. My school report always went along the lines of “Nicola would do well if she minded her own business as well as she minds other peoples’”.’

  Bryant chuckled. ‘Yeah, I’ve got one at home just like that.’

  Nicola shrugged. ‘Well, I used to sneak around and listen at doorways. I remember hearing Tracy telling the other two she was “up the duff” as she put it.’