First Blood: A completely gripping mystery thriller (A Detective Kim Stone Novel)

by Angela Marsons

  As explained to Bryant she had adopted her sorry face, which Woody must have found suitably repentant, as it was difficult to continue telling someone off if they were choosing not to argue back.

  ‘Okay, folks, we’ll debrief in the morning. Get some rest.’

  She’d swear that three disappointed faces looked right back at her. As what seemed to be developing into the norm, she indicated for Dawson to stay back. Kim watched as his younger, less experienced colleague threw her satchel diagonally across her front before nodding her goodbyes and following Bryant out of the door. She couldn’t help comparing the efforts of the greenest officer on the team to the one left sitting in front of her now. Again. Stacey had begun the week keen as mustard to work hard and learn. She had carried out every instruction she’d been given efficiently and enthusiastically. She’d used her initiative and followed up leads. There were moments that Kim forgot just how inexperienced she was and could already see the potential for further development. It was unfortunate that she didn’t feel the same way about DS Dawson.

  So far this week he’d tested her. He’d tried to challenge her, he’d ignored her instructions, and right now she was a hair’s breadth away from having him removed from her team.

  But not quite.

  ‘And again I’m keeping you back,’ she said, folding her arms and feeling like a teacher reprimanding an errant pupil at detention.

  His expression told her that he was searching his brain for whatever else he’d done wrong.

  ‘You slept in your car on the station car park last night,’ she stated.

  He opened his mouth to say something and then changed his mind.

  ‘I don’t know and nor do I care what’s going on in your private life or why you did that, but it will not happen again. Is that clear?’

  Again, with the school Marm posture and speech. She wondered why the hell this detective brought that out in her.

  ‘Of course, boss,’ he said, as a flash of panic entered his eyes, causing her to wonder if he’d been planning to do it again tonight.

  ‘I’ll find somewhere…’

  ‘There’s a room booked at the Travelodge down the road in your name. One night, now sort yourself out and get the fuck on board with this team,’ she said, before heading into the bowl.

  She glanced back and was rewarded by the look of confusion on his face as he collected together his things.

  It wasn’t an act of kindness on her part. It was a calculated plan. He reminded her of a tired angry puppy. Constantly distracted and trying to get the upper hand.

  And sometimes all an errant puppy needed to refocus their addled little brains was a good night’s sleep.

  And if that didn’t work he would be off the team for good.

  Chapter Seventy-Two

  Stacey wandered into the kitchen, took off her coat and resisted the urge to reach into her satchel for her phone. She was a grown-up now. She had her own flat, a new job and she had to deal with her feelings and doubts by herself.

  During the chaos of the day it was easier to push the thoughts away. Her mind was diverted by the murder investigation: thinking, working, trawling, mining, more thinking.

  She had already cursed herself many times for not trying to find Hayley on the system sooner by using just her first name and the knowledge of the birthmark. Maybe it was a life she could have helped save.

  The logical part of her screamed out that the information on the system had done nothing to help them anyway but that wasn’t the point. She hadn’t had the thought to check. She couldn’t help wondering if the boss was thinking the exact same thing.

  It hadn’t taken her long to work out that the boss didn’t dispense compliments like sweeties, but even her expression was difficult to analyse so Stacey was getting no clues there.

  She sighed heavily as she took a cottage pie from the fridge and popped it into the microwave. If she’d still been living with her parents she would have returned to a home-cooked meal, maybe Ogbono soup; a Nigerian recipe with a hearty mixture of beef, fish and spinach. Or equally a plate of egg and chips with bread and butter. Her mother wasn’t faithful to one cuisine and liked to mix it up depending on her mood. But a home-cooked meal wasn’t all she’d have got at home. Immediately upon entering the three-bed semi she would have been assaulted by the cooking smells she’d grown up with, sparkly Christmas decorations hanging from every hook in the house, tinsel arching every doorway. Her mother welcomed the festive season into the house from the last week of November.

  Stacey had been meaning to get a tree for a couple of weeks but she’d just kept putting it off. Her only concession to Christmas were the family and friends’ Christmas cards on the mantelpiece in the lounge, which she dared not divulge to her mum.

  But it wasn’t even the homely, festive comfort she was seeking. Her mother would have known straight away that there was something on her mind. She would have pumped, cajoled and threatened her until she’d bared her soul. Her mum would have listened, nodded, snorted occasionally and then offered her reassurance and a soundbite. Her mum had a knack with short sentences that stuck in her head and made her see everything differently. There were no long speeches with her; she just thought it over, considered the problem fully and then offered a few words of wisdom.

  Her hand reached for the phone once more, but she snatched it back.

  She was a big girl now. She was adulting as they said. She had to find her own soundbites.

  It was time for her to grow up.

  Chapter Seventy-Three

  Dawson walked into the supermarket with the same vague sickness that had blighted him after his night with Lou. He wasn’t sure of the cause but it wasn’t a sensation he was enjoying all that much.

  He liked to think he knew and understood people. He’d expected many things from this new boss; another bollocking, another of those one-sided chats, threat of removal from the team. He certainly hadn’t been expecting a bed for the night.

  He stood in front of the sandwich fridge surveying the last few offerings available. Most of which had probably been picked up, turned around and then rejected at different points throughout the day.

  He pictured Ally at home. She’d probably be preparing something nutritious, healthy and bloody tasty. He didn’t know how she did it but how she worked full time as an Accounts Assistant and still managed to cook so well had been a mystery to him.

  And he was here looking to get the best value for his meal deal. A sandwich, crisps and a cold drink that would tide him over until tomorrow.

  He knew which he preferred, but he couldn’t go home yet. Or at all. He knew what she expected from him and the pressure was just driving him further away.

  He pushed the thought away and settled for an egg triple sandwich, at least he got three slices of bread, even if it was brown, a packet of chicken crisps and a bottle of Diet Coke.

  As he reached for the red-topped bottle he remembered the photo of the item found in Hayley Smart’s waistband.

  At first, he’d wondered if it meant anything at all. The woman had been found by a row of bins behind a chip shop. Surely it would have been more unusual if some kind of debris hadn’t worked its way into the crime scene.

  Although nothing else had, a small voice said inside his head. And for it to actually have worked its way into her clothing and not just beneath her niggled at him.

  But what the hell was it? he wondered.

  He took out his phone and scrolled to the photos he’d taken at the morgue. He put his meal deal back in the fridge and began walking the aisles of the supermarket.

  He quickly ruled out the electrical, clothing and magazine sections and moved quickly past the fruit and vegetables.

  No joy around the tinned goods or the chilled and frozen.

  He was considering asking one of the shop assistants he’d passed if they recognised it when he reached the condiments.

  Something in his brain snapped a flash of recognition from his childhood, of F
riday night tea when his mum didn’t feel like cooking and his dad came home with a steaming carrier bag.

  His eyes scoured the shelves until he found what he was looking for.

  He lifted up the object with a red top and took out his phone.

  This red top, found in the waistband of Hayley Smart’s jeans, had come from a bottle of vinegar.

  Chapter Seventy-Four

  ‘Okay, guys, let’s get to it,’ Kim said, taking what was becoming her usual spot perched on the edge of the spare desk.

  She reached for one of the coffees in the cardboard carrier.

  ‘Thanks, Bryant, but I’ve already told you…’

  ‘Wasn’t me, guv,’ he said as Dawson raised his hand.

  Kim nodded her thanks for the gesture, given what appeared to be a dire financial situation.

  She looked across the wipe boards trying to focus on the information they had rather than the gaps that were smacking her in the face. If only she had access to all of these damned cases.

  The first genital mutilation had occurred six years earlier, to someone who remained unidentified. The second victim had been Lester Jackson, at Redland Hall, a month ago. Next had been Tommy Deeley in Wolverhampton almost a week ago, followed by their own victim: Luke Fenton, who was found on Monday. And now they had Hayley Smart too.

  ‘Okay, so we have either our second or fifth victim, Hayley Smart, the ex-girlfriend of Luke Fenton. We know from his sister and the photos on the computer that she left him and then went back. There was no genital mutilation so what does that tell us?’

  ‘That our killer is pissed off with her but not as much as he is with the others,’ Dawson offered.

  ‘Why?’ she asked.

  He thought for a second. ‘Because Hayley didn’t actually abuse anyone but she put her daughter back in a position to be abused.’

  ‘My thoughts too,’ Kim said. ‘I think Hayley has paid the ultimate price for going back to Fenton after her time at the shelter.’

  ‘The sister?’ Stacey asked. ‘I mean she did punch her dead brother in the face, so she’s still pretty angry.’

  Kim had been thinking the same thing. The voicemail left on Hayley’s phone could have been deliberate to draw her out. In addition, after reading Keats’s full report first thing she’d found it odd that Hayley had consumed her first proper meal just hours before she’d been murdered. Had someone else bought her that meal, and given that she’d been hiding, who did she trust? She knew and trusted Luke’s sister enough to give her her new phone number.

  ‘Can’t see any link between Lisa Bywater and any other victim, but she’s definitely a person of interest,’ she said. And even more so if they ruled out the other incidents like people wanted them to, because then Lisa was the only person they’d encountered who knew them both. Except, she wasn’t yet prepared to accept that three other deaths had nothing to do with the cases of the two victims that were on her desk.

  She nodded towards Stacey. ‘Start checking out ViSOR and see what you can find. The two victims we know anything about were both paedophiles.’

  ‘Will do.’

  They all knew that ViSOR was the database of those required to register with the police under the Sexual Offences Act 2003, which included persons jailed for more than twelve months for violent offences and un-convicted people thought to be at risk of offending. Commonly referred to as the sex offenders’ register it was accessed by Police, National Probation Service and HM Prison Service personnel.

  ‘Boss, I found something else out last night,’ Dawson offered, taking his phone from his pocket. ‘That bottle top found in Hayley Smart’s clothing. It came from a bottle of vinegar. You know, the old-fashioned Sarson’s bottle that…’

  ‘I saw the picture,’ she said, and although the shape had looked familiar, part of her had wondered if it was just crap from the nearby chip shop bins.

  ‘I’m just wondering if it means anything, boss. These small things we’re overlooking at the crime scenes like the priest hole, the bell, the shoe. I wouldn’t mind looking into them further.’

  A sound and reasonable argument presented as a request. A startling change from the beginning of the week.

  ‘Okay, Dawson, get into it.’

  He nodded his understanding.

  ‘Okay, folks. Time to get to work,’ she said, finishing her drink.

  Kim knew her first visit of the day was straight back to the shelter in Dudley.

  Chapter Seventy-Five

  Stacey breathed a sigh of relief as Dawson headed off to the canteen for coffee the minute the boss was out the door, as she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about having him sitting opposite.

  She had kind of got used to everyone departing after the morning briefing and leaving her alone. She also wasn’t sure how she felt about the can of Diet Coke he’d brought in for her this morning. She’d written him off as a colleague to be ignored at worst and tolerated at best. He’d been a total arse all week but one act of kindness and she was ready to give him the benefit of the doubt. Yep, people pleaser all the way, she acknowledged to herself. She resolved to respond if he spoke to her, but no more trying to make him like her. She was over it.

  She bent down to retrieve her satchel from the floor and started when she raised her head at the figure who had appeared soundlessly in the doorway.

  ‘Boss?’ she questioned. Her colleague had been subjected to a couple of one-on-one conversations this week but she’d escaped unharmed. Her hand trembled on the fastener catch of the bag. What had she done wrong? Was it the Hayley Smart thing she’d been worrying about all night?

  ‘You know, Stace, just in case you were wondering, you’re doing a cracking job. Keep it up.’

  ‘Th-thanks, boss,’ she said, feeling the heat rush into her cheeks. Strangely, compliments were harder for her to take than reprimands. She knew what to do with one of those; try harder.

  The boss turned and left as the smile found its way to her lips. Not only had the boss complimented her, she had nipped back to the office to do it. Had the boss been in her flat last night or more importantly had she been in her head? Either way Stacey was grateful for the shortest pep talk she’d ever received.

  She sat up straight and took out the notebook that had accompanied her on every training course she’d attended in the last two years. Hardcover pink with the words ‘You got this’ scrawled across the front in purple. A present from her father when she’d started detective training.

  If she recalled correctly her notes on accessing and using ViSOR were pretty near to the front.

  Most people, herself included at one point, thought the register was a long list of names, date of birth and address of known sex offenders. She now knew it was a management tool used by Law Enforcement, National Offender Management Service and other agencies to manage registerable sexual offenders, other sexual offenders, violent offenders, dangerous offenders, terrorist offenders and potentially dangerous persons; it enabled each agency to share information.

  There were different levels of training, and she’d received the Basic Level Access Learning Programme which was designed for people to access information and intelligence but did not give access or responsibility to update the system.

  ‘Ah, there you are,’ she said out loud.

  ‘Yep, I haven’t moved,’ Dawson responded, startling her. Yes, she really had forgotten he was still sitting there.

  She ignored him and glanced at the information on the board. All of the victims.

  She couldn’t search out anything for the six years’ dead victim highlighted by Keats so she put a line through that name.

  She was unsurprised to see Lester Jackson’s name on ViSOR. They knew for a fact he’d sexually abused his niece. She was even less surprised to see Luke Fenton’s name on it, so there was one more name left to try.

  She typed in the name of the homeless man, Thomas Deeley, murdered in Wolverhampton just under a week ago.

  Stacey let out a long breath.


  Yes, he was there as well.

  A link to all three male victims.

  Was the killer taking his victims from ViSOR?

  Stacey was aware of the Child Sex Offender Disclosure Scheme; commonly known as Sarah’s Law, it allowed anyone to ask the police in England and Wales if someone with access to a child has a record for child sexual offences. But she also knew that Joe Public couldn’t just type in a name and get a result.

  So, if he wasn’t getting details from ViSOR, how the hell was he getting access to information about these victims?

  Chapter Seventy-Six

  Kim tapped her fingers impatiently as she waited for the gates to open. Three of the deaths on the boards back in the squad room could be linked back to this shelter in one way or another and today she wanted answers.

  Someone inside these gates knew something and she wasn’t leaving until she’d found out who and what.

  The door was opened by Jay who nodded and stepped aside.

  Kim headed straight into the office of Marianne, who although as smart and groomed as she had been the last time they’d met, appeared pale. The light make-up she wore did nothing to conceal the dark circles beneath her eyes.

  ‘You’ve heard, I take it?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Not officially but I assume it’s true, that the woman found is Hayley?’

  Kim nodded. ‘You understand that we need to talk to people here. I need a list of names of staff and residents who knew her.’

  ‘I can get you that. There are only a couple of the ladies who were here with Hayley, and I’ll explain to the staff that they need to be open and co-operative.’

  Kim glanced across the hall.

  ‘I’d like to start with Jay.’

  ‘Feel free to speak to him in the CCTV room while I brief the rest of the staff.’

  Kim headed towards the door, but Marianne’s voice stopped her.