Kim shook her head, reeling.
Already she felt sorry for the battle Isobel had yet to fight.
‘Thank you for your time, Doctor Singh,’ she said.
‘You’re welcome and now you may see her.’
Kim hesitated before stepping into the ward. She was already on tiptoe to avoid her biker-boot heels thudding her arrival.
She took a deep breath and turned into the bay.
The first thing Kim noticed was the bed next to Isobel was now empty. In this ward you didn’t ask why.
The second thing she noticed was Duncan gently helping Isobel to feed herself.
Kim approached the bed with a smile and touched Duncan gently on the shoulder before speaking.
‘Hi, Isobel, I’m Detective Inspector Stone and would like a word, if that’s okay?’
After her chat with the doctor she wasn’t sure how much she was going to get.
‘She prefers “Izzy”,’ Duncan offered with a smile.
Isobel looked from one to the other, not speaking.
Her face was pale and her eyes were dark. Her eyelids appeared heavy with fatigue. Kim could only wonder at the strength it had taken for her to fight back from wherever she had been.
Kim stepped around to the other side of Isobel. Duncan was perched on the bed, so she moved the requisite easy chair closer, taking care to lift not drag.
‘Would you like me to leave?’ Duncan asked.
Kim shook her head. He was helping Isobel lift her right hand to her mouth from a bowl of thin soup on the hospital table.
Isobel tried to lift her left hand to offer a handshake. Kim touched the hand and laid it back down.
She leaned forwards, resting her arms on her knees.
‘Izzy, I understand that you don’t remember anything, but I have to ask, okay?’
She nodded as Duncan guided her hand once more to her mouth. The effort of swallowing the murky liquid seemed to take a great deal of effort.
‘If you get too tired, just let me know.’
‘I don’t want to close my eyes,’ she said.
Her voice was weak, barely more than a whisper. Had Kim been further away she wouldn’t have heard a word.
Kim could also understand her reluctance to close her eyes. Perhaps she was frightened of returning to her comatose state or even not waking up at all.
Duncan held her hand and scooped another spoonful of soup before helping her guide it to her mouth.
Again she swallowed with effort and held up her left hand to signal no more.
Duncan put the spoon back into the dish but continued to hold her hand.
‘Isobel, I know this might be difficult for you to take in, but your injuries are not from any kind of accident.’
She swallowed and nodded. In the short time she’d been awake she had probably already worked that out.
‘We’re pretty sure you were abducted and kept against your will. Your head injury was supposed to kill you.’
A cry sounded from her throat. Kim placed a reassuring hand on Isobel’s arm.
‘Don’t worry – you’re safe. He’s not going to get to you here. But we need to catch this man before he does it again.’
Kim didn’t want to frighten her further by admitting that two other women hadn’t been as lucky.
Isobel’s look of horror turned to frustration. ‘I don’t…’
‘Save your throat,’ Kim instructed. ‘I just want to see if we can shake anything loose.’
Isobel nodded, but the frown remained. Kim saw her look to Duncan for reassurance. He smiled and squeezed her hand. ‘You’re doing great, Izzy.’
‘There are marks on the back of your legs and your stomach,’ Kim explained. ‘Do you have any idea where they came from?’
Isobel shook her head.
‘Do you remember anything about being taken, a smell, a sound, anything?’
Isobel shook her head.
‘Do you have any recollection of where you might have been taken from?’
She shook her head and then looked to Duncan who was pained that he could offer no response.
‘Is there anything in your mind to do with where you were held, anything at all?’ Kim asked.
Isobel’s eyes filled with tears and Kim understood.
With no memory of anything she was looking into an empty space. She knew nothing about herself. Her mind was an alien place to be with nothing familiar, nothing she knew. No memories of herself or people that she cared for.
Duncan stroked her arm. ‘It’s okay, babe. It’ll come back.’
Kim hoped he was right, not only for her own sake, and what she might learn for the investigation, but for Isobel too.
Otherwise the woman had to start again. She had to make a whole new person. Her memories would begin from about half an hour ago, providing the equipment was still working, but that was a worry for another day.
As Kim opened her mouth she caught sight of the doctor at the entrance to the bay.
He had said she couldn’t take long and he was reminding her of her instruction. She couldn’t tire the patient too much.
She was tempted to keep asking questions in case just one smidgeon of information had become lodged in the brain before the injury had washed it away. Just one stubborn recollection that was hanging on the end of a thought.
But it would be unfair and probably fruitless.
Kim stood and returned the easy chair to its position.
‘Isobel, you’re doing great, so don’t push yourself to recall stuff. The harder you try the more it may stay out of reach.
‘I’m going to leave my card here. If you do remember anything ask Duncan to give me a call.’
Isobel nodded and attempted a weak smile. Duncan nodded too. He looked tired and sad.
‘You okay?’ Kim couldn’t help but ask.
‘I’m fine,’ he said brightening.
‘You need rest too,’ she advised. Hospitals were draining, and the worry was etched into his face.
‘I’m okay. I’m going to fetch a few things for Izzy when I leave here.’ He turned to his girlfriend. ‘Pink pyjamas. You always wear pink.’
Kim enjoyed the expression of warmth that spread across Isobel’s face. Facts, information, any little nugget would be gratefully received and hopefully stored.
Kim wondered how many times the finite detail of their few dates would be recounted back to her over the coming days. And each time she would learn something new about the person she was.
Kim said her farewells and headed back to the doctor.
‘Sorry if I overstayed.’
‘No, no, Inspector. It’s not that. There’s something I think you should know.’
He stepped away from the opening to the ward.
Kim followed.
‘The blood tests you asked for have come back. There was a definite trace of Rohypnol in her blood, but there’s something else.’
‘Go on,’ Kim urged.
He turned to the clipboard and consulted the notes one more time.
‘Our patient has hepatitis C.’
Kim stepped back and glanced into the ward.
Duncan was helping his girlfriend take a drink of water from the plastic beaker.
She couldn’t help but wonder if either of them knew.
Fifty-Two
Kim 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 befor
e 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.
Fifty-Three
Dawson 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.
Fifty-Four
Only 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.
Play Dead: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller Book 4 Page 18