The meeting at 7 a.m. with DI Stone he was expecting but the impromptu request for a chat by one of her officers had taken him by surprise. Did this team member want out already?
A double knock sounded on the door.
‘Come in, DS Bryant,’ he called out.
Although he’d never worked with this officer before he’d heard nothing but praise for his work ethic, his reliability and his impeccable judgement. A good pairing with Stone, he thought.
The man entered looking smart, alert and ready to start another week. All good except for the pensive expression on his face.
‘Please take a seat, Bryant.’
‘I’m fine standing, sir. I won’t take up much of your time. I just need to ask you about something that’s been bothering me.’
Woody sat back in his chair. ‘Please, ask away.’
Was the man wondering how he had ended up on this team? Did he want to know if he had been requested? Was he wondering how quickly a transfer request would take?
‘I saw a photo, sir, earlier in the week. It was an old photo of a six-year-old girl being carried from Chaucer House on Hollytree, right behind the body bag of her dead brother. There were police officers all around and one in particular that looked just like you.’
Surprised by the question he stood and moved to the window, considering his answer carefully.
Yes, he had been there when the door had been broken down into the flat on the seventh floor. The stench of the dead body had hit him immediately but little had he known that there was a little girl attached to the decaying body of her brother.
At first he had thought she was dead too but her eyes had opened, stark with fear and then closed again. He had immediately known that she was close to death herself and he had not been prepared for the fight that had come from her thin, emaciated body when they had first tried to remove her dead twin from her side. No amount of soothing would comfort her until she passed out from exhaustion. When she came to her brother was gone. And he would never forget the look on her face as she turned to the empty space beside her.
Both the incident and the name of the girl had remained at the back of his mind and had been brought to the fore almost fourteen years ago when he had read about the bravery of a young female officer who had risked her own life by entering a service station to assist the owner who had been injured during a robbery. She hadn’t known if the assailant was still present but she had entered anyway. The sixty-two-year-old man had lived to tell the tale and she had received a commendation.
He had attended the award ceremony to see her. She had not turned up.
Since then he had followed her career with interest. He had raised a glass when she joined CID and another two following her promotions. What he hadn’t celebrated was her inability to gel with any kind of team for longer than a case or two. Something in him had wanted to see that level of stability in her life, but she had bounced into almost every station in the borough and bounced right back out again. Except for Halesowen. When he’d heard about her most recent run-in he’d requested her presence on his team. He hadn’t had to shout loudly or more than once to get his wish.
He took a breath, turned to the sergeant and opened his mouth. ‘Bryant, I—’
‘Because, you see, sir,’ Bryant said, meeting his gaze, ‘if I think it’s you in that photo, I’ll always know that I’m keeping something from her, and if I am to remain a member of this team I want to give the DI my full support and not be privy to something about her past that she doesn’t already know. It wouldn’t be fair to her and it wouldn’t be fair to me.’
Woody nodded his understanding and took another breath. ‘It isn’t me in that photo.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Is there anything more you need from me, DS Bryant?’
‘No, sir. Thank you for your time.’
DCI Woodward watched as the door closed behind the sergeant and realised that from this point forward he had to forget what he knew of her past. He had to erase the picture of the frightened, vulnerable, six-year-old girl and replace it with the independent grown woman she had become.
He was not her father, he was not her uncle and he was not her friend.
From this point forward he would be only one thing to her. He would be her boss.
Chapter One Hundred Sixteen
Kim headed up the stairs to the executive suite, still surprised by the fact that Bryant had made it in before she had. He’d mumbled something about needing to dot an I and cross a T and that he was ready and raring to go. She’d left him filling the coffee machine in preparation for the day ahead.
She knew what this meeting was about and after much thought over the weekend she was pretty sure about her answers. Almost.
The case was complete as far as they were concerned. The interview had elicited a confession which included dates, names and methods. There was no question Nigel Hawkins was responsible for them all.
There was a part of Kim that wondered if Nigel had wanted to be caught. His determination to leave clues to the dark meanings of nursery rhymes had formed his signature. Some killers insisted on leaving a personal stamp based on a need or compulsion. Some offenders posed corpses or carved something into the flesh, inserted items or took souvenirs away with them to relive the crime. All actions to do with the personality factors rather than the tools needed to commit the murder. Nigel hadn’t needed to leave the clues to get the job done. It was something he had chosen to do to send a message.
Butcher Bill had been released over the weekend to return to his favourite shop doorway. From what she’d heard he hadn’t been all that keen to leave. She was guessing he’d be back confessing to another crime for the benefit of a bed and a meal, especially over the Christmas period.
She had eventually caught up with Carl Wickes who had sat in the interview room trembling with fear before she’d even begun to take his statement. When she’d raised the subject of Wendy Lockwood he had almost collapsed with relief and admitted that he’d had sex with more than one of the women at the shelter.
His initial reaction had set off alarm bells in her mind, as though he was more than happy to admit to a lesser charge. She’d wondered if he’d been involved in the murders somehow alongside Nigel or had at least known about them. Further probing had revealed that he and Marianne had been engaging in another illegal activity for more than two years. Blackmail.
A seventeen-page statement that she had been unprepared for had followed as the young man had unburdened himself. She had watched the real fear behind his eyes diminish as he’d listed names, dates and methods. Only this last week he had been sent to a man named Derek Hodge armed with photographs of his naked body in a hotel room after sex with Marianne, to extort funds for the shelters. He confirmed that Marianne had issued him with a second envelope that he hadn’t even opened. Because of the police presence at the shelter he’d ripped the thing up and headed into town to get pissed before explaining to Marianne that he wasn’t going to do it any more.
Marianne had been questioned on the strength of Carl’s statement and predictably was admitting to nothing while hiding behind an expensive lawyer.
Kim couldn’t help her feeling of disappointment in the woman’s methods. There was no doubt that the shelters had helped hundreds if not thousands of women recover from physical and psychological abuse over the years and Marianne’s passion for their welfare was commendable. But not when it included breaking the law, Kim reminded herself.
The case had already been handed over to another team who would investigate Carl’s claims individually and charges would be brought, a process in which Kim believed wholeheartedly. Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen to the shelters in Marianne’s absence. There was no team of directors or managers waiting in the wings to install another force of nature, no deputy manager to step up and keep things ticking over. Marianne Forbes had been a one-woman army and Kim feared for the vulnerable women in her absence.
D
octor Lambert was still in hospital and had endured two surgeries to try and put him back together. The long-term effects were not yet known, but the man was alive and for that she was grateful.
She had placed a courtesy call to Mrs Roberts to update her even though she’d never met either Nigel or Hayley but she was relieved for Mia that it was over. Kim was pleased to hear that the family were taking steps to bring Mia into their family more permanently. Kim hoped that worked out for Mia’s sake. Her foster mother loved the child very much.
Lisa Bywater had accepted the news with little emotion and a response Kim could have anticipated. She couldn’t talk for long as she was heading off to work. Kim hoped there was some part of the woman that might begin to heal now that it was over, or at the very least she received an employee of the month award for her efforts.
‘So, shall we talk about the case first?’ he asked.
‘We caught the bad man who killed six people,’ she said.
‘Is that it?’
‘We caught the bad guy even though no one believed he killed six people.’
Woody peered at her over his glasses. ‘I watched the interview. Good work getting the confession.’
She shrugged. ‘Not really. He wanted to talk. Somehow, he thinks that the more he tells people the more they’ll understand and that he’ll be back to his old life in no time. He honestly does not see himself being sent to prison.’ She paused. ‘Did you watch it all?’
He shook his head. ‘Just the confession. First twenty minutes, I think.’
‘Bryant and I were in there for an hour. Once he started talking he couldn’t stop. Pretty horrific, sir. His mum died when he was five and a half and the abuse started about six months later.’
Kim couldn’t help but feel for the six-year-old boy grieving for his mum and then being subjected to such horrific acts by the one person left in the world to protect him.
‘His father would read him the same book of nursery rhymes every night before abusing him. Nigel came to hate those rhymes as he knew what came next. There was no innocence in the little ditties, just darkness and fear.’
‘And the grown man held a knife to your colleague’s throat,’ Woody said, bringing her back to reality.
To her the boy and the man were two separate people. Nigel the man had cold-heartedly murdered six people while convincing himself he was providing a service. Nigel the boy was still terrified and trying to make himself invisible beneath the bed covers.
Woody’s reminder of what he’d done was unnecessary. The picture had been in her mind ever since. Bryant had been put in that position because of her. She had decided to enter the building and he had followed her.
‘He’s a grown man,’ Woody said, as though reading her thoughts. ‘And you’re a grown woman and although I don’t blame you for what happened to Bryant I do think your decision to enter the building was foolhardy at best, for your own safety.’
‘The man was dying, sir,’ she said, simply.
He accepted her point.
‘So, you know what comes next. I assume you’ve heard about the CID team at Wolverhampton?’
She nodded. Following the failure of the team to identify that Butcher Bill was not the murderer and their willingness to accept such a flimsy confession, the team of six had been disbanded. And they all needed to go somewhere.
‘There are some good people going spare,’ he added, unnecessarily.
She knew and had worked with at least three of them.
‘It’s time to pick and choose.’
She considered the bright lights who were being reassigned.
Spencer Adkins was a DS in his early forties and had one of the highest arrest rates in the borough. He was unmarried, diligent and needed little to no supervision. He was first at his desk and last to leave and always had a kind word for everyone.
Rory Mason was a DS in his mid-twenties whose ambition and drive did not distract him from the job at hand. He responded well to supervision, was respectful and worked hard.
Lisette Wilson was an Oxford University graduate in her early thirties with a brain that could analyse and separate data like a piece of software. She was married with one child and although mainly office bound had contributed to more successful prosecutions than anyone Kim had ever worked with.
She considered the team she’d been given at the beginning of the week.
DC Stacey Wood, inexperienced, nervous, squeamish at a crime scene, lacking in confidence. And yet she had suffered her colleague’s inertia without a word of complaint. She had stayed at her desk until told otherwise and had contributed wholeheartedly and consistently throughout the week. What she had lacked in experience she had made up for with enthusiasm and integrity.
DS Kevin Dawson, arrogant to the point of cocky, sarcastic, insubordinate and at times insufferable. He had challenged her at every turn throughout the week. Clearly the man had been experiencing some kind of personal crisis at home, but still he’d had moments of brilliance. His determination to find the link between the anomalies at the crime scenes had led to the nursery rhyme theory. Kim had berated herself for not listening sooner because the theory had come from him. That was a reflection on her own quick judgement of his character and she would not let it happen again with any team member. She knew they would have never found Doctor Lambert in time without Dawson.
And finally, DS Bryant. The man had been at her side the whole week. He lacked ambition and was not the most dynamic officer she’d worked with. His demeanour while not forceful was steadying, fair and sensible. He was not easily offended, which could only go in his favour. The man had ended his first week with a knife to his throat and hadn’t moaned about it once.
The team as a whole was inexperienced, unpolished and statistically way behind the three officers who needed a home.
She met Woody’s gaze, signalling she was ready with her response.
‘So, tell me, Stone. Who do you want to lose and who do you want to keep?’
She took a breath before she answered. ‘Sir, I want to keep them all.’
If you loved First Blood and haven’t read the other books in DI Kim Stone series, order the nail-bitingly tense and utterly unputdownable Silent Scream. AVAILABLE TO READ NOW!
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SILENT SCREAM
Detective Kim Stone Crime Thriller Series Book 1
#1 BESTSELLER
Even the darkest secrets can’t stay buried forever…
Five figures gather round a shallow grave. They had all taken turns to dig. An adult-sized hole would have taken longer. An innocent life had been taken but the pact had been made. Their secrets would be buried, bound in blood…
Years later, a headmistress is found brutally strangled, the first in a spate of gruesome murders which shock the Black Country.
But when human remains are discovered at a former children’s home, disturbing secrets are also unearthed. D.I. Kim Stone fast realises she’s on the hunt for a twisted individual whose killing spree spans decades.
As the body count rises, Kim needs to stop the murderer before they strike again. But to catch the killer, can Kim confront the demons of her own past before it’s too late?
Fans of Rachel Abbott, Val McDermid and Mark Billingham will be gripped by this exceptional new voice in British crime fiction.
SILENT SCREAM IS OUT NOW
Read on for an absolutely gripping extract from Silent Scream…
Prologue
Rowley Regis, Black Country, 2004
Five figures formed a pentagram around a freshly dug mound. Only they knew it was a grave.
Digging the frozen earth beneath the layers of ice and snow had been like trying to carve stone but they’d taken turns. All of them.
An adult-sized hole would have taken longer.
The shovel had passed from grip to grip. Some were hesitant, tentative. Others more assured. No o
ne resisted and no one spoke.
The innocence of the life taken was known to them all but the pact had been made. Their secrets would be buried.
Five heads bowed towards the dirt, visualising the body beneath soil that already glistened with fresh ice.
As the first flakes dusted the top of the grave, a shudder threaded through the group.
The five figures dispersed, their footprints treading the trail of a star into the fresh, crisp snow.
It was done.
Chapter 1
Black Country, Present Day
Teresa Wyatt had the inexplicable feeling that this night would be her last.
She switched off the television and the house fell quiet. It wasn’t the normal silence that descended each evening as she and her home gently closed down and unwound towards bedtime.
She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting on the late night news. The announcement had already been made on the local evening news programme. Perhaps she was hoping for a miracle, some last-minute reprieve.
Ever since the first application two years ago she had felt like a prisoner on death row. Intermittently the guards had come, taken her to the chair and then fate had returned her to the safety of the cell. But this time was final. Teresa knew there would be no further objections, no more delays.
She wondered if the others had seen the news. Did they feel the same way she did? Would they admit to themselves that their primary feelings were not remorse but self-preservation?
Had she been a nicer person there might have been a smattering of conscience buried beneath her concern for herself; but there was not.
First Blood: A completely gripping mystery thriller (A Detective Kim Stone Novel) Page 26