He had a point. Tracy’s property was in the middle.
A movement to the right caught her eye. The corner of the net curtain covering next door’s window dropped back down.
Kim took two steps and knocked on the door. Perhaps they could get to the rear of the property via the back gardens.
The door was opened by a thin lad in his mid-teens. Gangly, milky legs protruded from multicoloured shorts covered with tropical birds. His concave upper half was uncovered.
‘Yeah,’ he said with the requisite attitude.
‘You know the woman next door?’ Kim asked, relieved she did not even have to try to raise any pleasantries.
He looked outside and glanced at the property as though he had no idea who she was talking about and had to be reminded there was a house next door.
‘Yeah, I know her. Blonde, high heels, nice pair of—’
‘Does she store her car anywhere else?’ Bryant asked quickly.
‘Yeah, in front of our house sometimes,’ he said and grinned.
Kim stared back.
He shook his head. ‘Nah, if she’s here, the car’s here.’
‘Can we get to her back garden through yours?’ Kim asked.
‘Pfftt… not a chance. We got a six-foot fence and spikes. Fucking cats.’
Damn. They’d need to try the house on the other side, which looked as empty as the one they were trying to access.
‘Me mum’s got a spare key,’ he said, reaching behind the door.
Her initial relief was replaced by dismay.
‘You don’t even know who we are,’ Bryant said for her. How easily he had offered the key to two total strangers. Very secure.
He looked them both up and down then laughed out loud as he handed Bryant the key. ‘Yeah, good one… Officer,’ he said, closing the door.
Kim shook her head as Bryant put the key in the lock.
She stepped into a room that had appeared larger through the letter box. A two-seater sofa claimed the length of one wall facing an old gas fire. A single armchair was placed diagonally to the television set and a striped rug almost covered the worn walkway on the carpet.
Two unused pillar candles sat at opposite ends of the fire surround. In the middle was a photo. Kim took a closer look and saw it was a young Tracy, probably seven or eight, sitting beside a woman on the beach. They wore matching sombreros made of foam. Kim was drawn to the smile on the child’s face. She didn’t know Tracy’s face could do that.
As Kim continued through the room her leg caught a pile of coupons teetering on the arm of the chair.
The only door out of the room led to a walkthrough that passed by the bottom of the stairs and then into the kitchen.
A roman blind was lowered halfway down the window above a stainless-steel sink that held a used juice glass.
An empty tin of smart-price beans peeped out of the pedal bin.
Bryant opened a cupboard door, revealing more value-branded grocery items.
A single sheet of paper was held on to the fridge door by a cupcake magnet.
‘Dentist appointment,’ Bryant said, taking a quick look.
There was little to learn Kim realised as she looked around, because there was very little here, full stop.
‘I’m going upstairs,’ she said, wondering if they would find any clues at all.
Bryant followed her. He was unusually quiet.
Kim took the door to her left and entered the front bedroom. Plain brown curtains were drawn halfway across the small window.
An e-reader and a bedside lamp occupied the only cabinet.
Kim stepped around the bed and opened the wardrobe. Hanging to the right were three designer trouser suits, one navy, one black and one cream. To the left were shelves holding tracksuit bottoms, sweatshirts and vest tops. Kim realised that she had never seen Tracy in a skirt.
Bryant bent down. ‘Look, guv,’ he said, picking up a high-heeled shoe. Inside was a plastic insert. As her gaze took in the identical shoes lined up in a row it was clear that every pair had its own insert.
Kim sat down on the edge of the bed and shook her head.
The sadness of the property had found a route to somewhere inside her.
‘I know I moan about the missus and stuff sometimes but bloody hell, you just don’t realise what you’ve got.’
Kim silently agreed. Her own home lacked many of the personal touches found in others but the wagging tail that greeted her more than made up for it.
It was clear that Tracy spent all her money on the bits people could see; the Tracy Frost that she presented to the world. The ‘home Frost’ was the polar opposite. For some inexplicable reason, it really bothered Kim.
‘And I take back what I said outside,’ Bryant said, as he closed the wardrobe door.
He didn’t need to elaborate. Kim knew exactly what he meant.
They had to get her back.
Sixty-Two
Isobel was chasing her tail. The effort of fighting off sleep was exhausting.
The day had been tiring and, although she had escaped the dense blackness, even the light was clouded by a deep fog.
Everything in the hospital was trying to trap her into sleep, but she didn’t want to close her eyes. The darkness lay waiting. She didn’t want to return to it.
The lights had been dimmed and the night staff walked with a lighter step. The rhythmic beating of a machine and a soft snore reached her from the bed opposite.
Everything was trying to guide her back to the darkness.
Even awake, her stomach was in turmoil. The anxiety swirled like a tornado inside her, reaching up to touch her heart and her lungs. Occasionally she would feel the urge for a sharp intake of breath to steady the turmoil inside. Now and again the odd palpitations in her chest caused a dizziness in her head. She was learning to focus her way through the fear. See past it. Get to the other side and let it pass rather than react to it.
The worst thing was that she didn’t know what she was afraid of. Except for, well, everything.
She was frightened she would never know who she was.
Only Duncan had made her feel safe. His reassuring smile and his gentle squeeze of her hand told her she wasn’t alone.
He had talked her through all of their dates. She had listened intently as he’d detailed their collision outside the coffee shop, trying to recognise herself in the picture, eager for any clue.
She felt the weight of her eyelids dropping and she shook herself awake.
She had tried to understand the significance of the phrase one for you and one for me. What did it mean and why was it the only thing playing in her head? She visualised the words, like a sign, in her mind’s eye, but the refresh button wasn’t working, and nothing new was coming through.
‘Hey, can’t get to sleep?’ asked Marion from the other side of the bed. The night sister had started her shift at seven.
Isobel shook her head and then widened her eyes.
Marion smiled knowingly. ‘Can’t or won’t?’
Isobel felt tears prick the back of her eyes. She knew she could not hold out much longer. Her body demanded sleep and she was losing the fight.
‘You won’t go back,’ Marion offered. ‘Your brain has woken up now.’
Isobel wanted to believe the kindly nurse, but her brain had been awake before, trapped and fully functioning in a useless, defiant body.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t…’
Marion sighed. ‘Okay, how about you just let yourself rest for…’ she looked at her watch ‘… half an hour. I’ll wake you up at half past eleven and we’ll take it from there.’
Isobel considered. The thought of being able to succumb to the fatigue and allow her body to rest while someone was watching was too tempting to refuse.
Suddenly she felt like a three-year-old child in an adult body. A little girl afraid of the dark.
‘Are you sure you’ll…?’
‘Eleven thirty on the dot. I promise.’
/> Isobel allowed her head to rest back fully on the bed, the dressing wedged between her skull and the softness.
Her aching neck sighed as the muscles began to relax. Isobel wasn’t sure she’d felt anything sweeter.
Her eyelids slammed shut and for a split second she panicked in the darkness but it was okay, she told herself. Marion was coming to get her.
Her flesh seemed to fall away from her bones like a well-cooked chicken as she allowed the tension to ease away.
But in the darkened tunnel of her mind was a voice. No face, no form, just a whisper or an echo.
It was like trying to hear a conversation in the next room.
She tried to focus the concentration to her ears even though the voice was inside. She squeezed her eyes tightly closed, but the voice travelled further away. Come back, she silently called. But the sound had disappeared.
The tension had seeped back into her body, so she quickly chased it away. The voice had come when she had finally allowed herself to relax.
She shook the tension away and relaxed all her senses.
The warmth of total relaxation stole over her flesh, reaching right down into her bones. She heard the voice in the distance. It was calling a single word. She urged her body not to react, to chase it away again.
She remained as still as a statue, forcing her mind to stare beyond the voice and into the abyss. The sound was growing in volume, but she couldn’t make out the word. She desperately wanted to chase after it, but she kept herself relaxed.
The voice came closer, but she kept her body and her mind still.
Closer. It was two syllables.
Closer.
The word sounded like handy.
Closer.
No, the word was candy.
Closer.
For the first time she heard it clearly. And the voice was calling out ‘Mandy’.
Sixty-Three
Everywhere Kim looked, she saw Tracy.
Every cupboard door she opened or drawer that she closed reminded her of the absence of life in the home of the complicated woman.
She had never liked the reporter. On occasion Tracy had shown a distinct lack of empathy for a victim or their family, choosing the urgency of the story instead.
And yet there had been other moments that had niggled at Kim’s usually unshakeable opinion of the woman.
Whether by fate or accident, she had managed to save Dawson’s life during a solo investigation he’d been carrying out. Faced with a group of youths from the Hollytree estate who were kicking the shit out of him and brandishing a knife, Tracy had stepped out of the shadows and intervened.
Earlier this week, when asked to leave something alone, she had done so.
These things contradicted Kim’s resolute opinion of the ambitious, ruthless woman who would sell a kidney for a story and probably two for an exclusive.
And now she was missing… potentially in the hands of a killer who had murdered at least two women and had tried for a third.
Kim knew she had done all she could. At present it was no more than a suspicion and getting valuable resources committed to a grown woman reported missing by no one was an uphill struggle, even for her.
She had tried Tracy’s number almost hourly since arriving home, but it continually hit voicemail.
As though she had willed it, her phone dinged the receipt of a message. Never before had she reached for her phone hoping it was Tracy Frost.
It wasn’t. It was a text message from Daniel.
She gasped as she read the words on the screen: ‘Got a minute? I’m outside.’
What the hell was Daniel Bate doing outside her house? She wasn’t sure herself of the guidelines in the subtle game they were playing, but she knew that turning up outside her house breached some kind of rule.
She looked to Barney as though he might have the answer. He nibbled his paw in response.
She considered ignoring the text and then wondered if it was something to do with the case but realised this wouldn’t be the way he’d communicate it anyway.
The thoughts rushed through her head as she travelled towards the front door.
He stood against the driver’s door facing her with his arms folded. Beneath the lamplight she could see the challenge in his eyes.
‘I wondered if you’d come out,’ he said.
She stood against the wall on her side of the pavement. ‘Why are you here?’ she asked, thrusting her hands into her front pockets.
‘Took a wrong turn.’
She smiled. Yes, he had.
She waited.
‘There’s nothing more I can offer,’ he said and paused just long enough for her to wonder what he meant. ‘Keats has everything in order. The victim has been identified, so there’s really no reason to stay.’
She nodded her understanding.
A moment passed where they stood, facing each other, each caught in their own thoughts.
‘You do know, don’t you?’ he said.
She shrugged. It made no difference what she knew. It only mattered what she would or could do.
‘You’re such a contradiction, Kim,’ he said, shaking his head.
She didn’t answer.
‘I’m not sure you’ve even admitted to yourself what could exist between us.’
Although not phrased as a question, she knew it was. A big question.
Still she didn’t answer.
She finally met his gaze but neither of them moved an inch.
‘You’re not ready, are you?’
And that was the truth of it.
He opened his mouth to speak, but she gently shook her head. He exhaled and offered her a look of resignation.
He offered her his hand. ‘Detective Inspector Stone, it’s been a pleasure meeting you again.’
She swallowed and returned the handshake loosely. ‘And you too, Doctor Bate.’
‘I hope we meet again,’ he said, letting go of her hand.
Kim had very little doubt that they would. But it would be different. The decision had been made.
There had been a moment.
And it had passed.
She turned her back and walked into the house.
Once inside, she stood against the front door and closed her eyes. She heard the sound of the truck engine start up and move steadily away. The words that had lodged in her throat, the ones she had wanted him to hear, were now lost. She had wanted him to know that if she was ready to take that chance, she would have chosen to take it with him.
Saying goodbye to Daniel was hard. But letting him stay would have been even worse.
It was about hope. She simply couldn’t.
She had tried it once, and it had almost killed her.
She headed upstairs and sat on the bed. Barney sat at the door, looking confused. Was it bedtime? Should he jump onto the bed beside her?
Kim opened the top drawer of the bedside cabinet and took out a small white envelope.
One piece of paper was all she had. Just the sight of it was enough to bring the emotion to her throat. She held it close to her chest as though it would bring them back. Like a catalyst, the memory shot her back to three days after her thirteenth birthday.
* * *
‘Make sure you give that letter to Miss Neale,’ Erica said.
‘For the third time,’ Kim mumbled heading for the door.
Erica pulled on her jacket hood. ‘Hey, little miss, haven’t you forgotten something?’
Kim had allowed herself to be pulled backwards and turned into the firm embrace of her foster mum.
Most days she just rolled her eyes and accepted the inevitable. Usually she simply tolerated the display of affection that came so easily to the woman.
‘Go on, off with you. Have a good day,’ Erica said, walking her to the front door.
Kim adjusted her backpack and went on her way. During the short walk she resolved that tonight would be the night she would spend some time in the kitchen. Erica was always asking h
er to help cook and she always made her excuses and went to the garage instead. Keith’s bike building always took her attention first. But it was important to Erica, so she would do it.
At fourteen minutes past eleven the head teacher walked into her History class. He whispered something to the teacher and then his eyes searched the room.
They eventually fell on her.
Kim immediately thought of the letter in her bag that she still hadn’t handed in. Would Erica really inform the head?
He appeared beside her and touched her shoulder.
‘Gather your things and come with me, Kimberly.’
His voice was soft and gentle and nothing like how he normally spoke to her. With a sinking feeling she knew it was more serious than the letter.
‘Something has happened, Kimberly, and I’m going to take you to your… ummm… aunt’s house.’
The headmaster continued to hold on to her shoulder as he guided her out of the school.
She was confused. She had no aunts. Suddenly she realised he was talking about Erica’s sister, Nancy.
The sisters were not close, and Kim had met the family only twice during the three years she’d been in Keith and Erica’s care.
Kim asked a dozen times what was happening during the short car journey, but he would not answer. She asked him to take her home. He ignored her. She asked him to call Keith and Erica. He swallowed and looked away.
The fear was rising around her stomach as she followed him up the path of a house she’d never seen before.
Nancy opened the door and the confusion on her face quickly turned to horror.
She looked at Mr Crooks. ‘Why have you brought her here?’
‘Family needs to be—’
‘We’re not family,’ she spat. ‘This child is nothing to me. What on earth were you thinking?’
Mr Crooks was clearly uncomfortable. ‘I thought when you called to inform us that you wanted…’
Nancy’s lower lip trembled. ‘I called so you could make the necessary arrangements.’
Kim watched the exchange while the unease continued to build within her. She wanted Erica. She wanted Keith.
Finally the fear inside her exploded. ‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’
Play Dead: A Gripping Serial Killer Thriller Book 4 Page 21