Broken Bones: A gripping serial killer thriller (Detective Kim Stone Crime Thriller Series Book 7)

by Angela Marsons

  ‘Ha, you wish,’ he sniggered. ‘The on-call team is currently trying to place a mother and five kids after her estranged husband issued a death threat.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Kim said. The season of goodwill appeared to be well and truly behind them. ‘How long?’

  ‘Not a clue; they wouldn’t commit, but a wrapped-up baby in the safety of a nice warm police station is not their top priority.’

  ‘Come on, Jack. There must be something you—’

  ‘Gotta go,’ he said, as a sudden rush of shouting filled the earpiece.

  ‘Thanks for nothing,’ she growled, slamming down the phone.

  ‘Oh great,’ she said, as the baby’s eyes and mouth opened at the same time.

  She looked around apologetically as a loud wail filled the room. She wasn’t sure who she was trying to tell that she hadn’t harmed it in any way. There was no one around. That was the whole bloody point.

  It wailed again. The sound managed to dance on her nerve endings. Shit, what was she supposed to do now?

  She took out her mobile phone and pressed on her contacts. The phone was answered on the second ring.

  ‘What’s up, guv?’ she heard in her ear and never had she been happier to hear his voice.

  ‘Bryant, I need you at the station, right now.’

  She looked at the baby who was screaming accusingly right at her.

  ‘And hurry, Bryant, this is an emergency situation.’

  FOUR

  Andrei cried out in pain with each movement of the van. Every corner, bend or dip shot the blinding agony from his leg around his body like an exploding firework.

  The sound he made was deafening in his head but muted against the cloth that had absorbed all the moisture from his mouth. He had tried to use his bound hands to clutch the metal floor of the van to steady himself and keep his leg still but the suspension was tossing him around like a rag doll. He tried to convince himself that he was on his way to hospital, that the restraint and gag were just a precaution as they travelled.

  The man driving the vehicle was not known to him but he had seen him at the farm now and again. It occurred to Andrei that the black van always came after a bad accident.

  Suddenly the vehicle stopped and then shuddered into silence.

  Andrei listened keenly.

  The side door was opened and he was hauled out like a sack of potatoes. His eyes watered as he screamed his agony into the damp cloth.

  The snowfall had thickened since they had left the farm. The flakes were not fluttering around his head but smashing cold and icy onto his skin. An inch layer had already formed on the ground.

  ‘Please,’ he spluttered.

  The sound was ignored as he was dragged down a ditch at the side of the canal. The pain in his leg was causing red darts to cloud his vision.

  ‘Please, take me to the hospital,’ he begged, hoping that his words would somehow be understood.

  ‘Shut up, idiot,’ he heard, even though there wasn’t a soul around to hear his pleas.

  The male dragged him away from the bridge and along the towpath. Every movement ignited the pain in his broken bones.

  He saw the man look to the left. They were fifty feet away from the bridge which already had a snow ledge on top. The man looked to the right. There was no other bridge or access point onto the canal in sight.

  Andrei followed the man’s gaze up to the factory wall with cracked and broken panes of glass.

  Seemingly satisfied, he pushed Andrei to the ground.

  He leaned down and whispered conspiratorially. ‘Listen, the boss wants you dead and I gotta make it look good. I ain’t the murdering kind, so if you stay here I’ll come back for you when I can. If you move from here, we’ll both be fucked. Got it?’

  Andrei nodded. Not sure what else he could do. The searing pain in his leg meant he was powerless to argue or move anywhere without help.

  The man wiped the snow from his eyes before turning and heading back towards the bridge and the slope.

  As another shot of pain brought tears to his eyes, Andrei prayed the man would be back for him soon.

  FIVE

  ‘Thank goodness you’re here,’ Kim said, as Bryant entered the squad room.

  Her repertoire of silly faces had been exhausted within minutes and her current activity of pushing the car seat to and fro appeared to be making them both nauseous.

  Bryant assessed the situation, shook his head and placed a carrier bag on the spare desk. He nudged her out of the way. ‘Have you not taken it out of the seat?’ he asked, unfastening the belt.

  ‘My dynamic risk assessment and knowledge of my own capabilities strenuously advised against it,’ she said, drily.

  In one fluid movement, the baby was in Bryant’s arms and against his outdoor jacket. His arms began moving up and down rhythmically. The baby bounced a few times and began to quieten.

  Kim felt the tension begin to drip out of her body.

  ‘Bryant, you are an absolute—’

  Her words were cut off as Dawson strode into the room.

  ‘Kev, what are…’

  ‘Like I’d miss this,’ he smirked, heading for the baby. He placed a carrier bag beside Bryant’s.

  She looked at her colleague accusingly. ‘You told him?’

  He viewed her as though it was a no-brainer. ‘Hell yeah. You and a baby? Couldn’t keep that to myself.’

  She shook her head as Dawson tickled the baby under the chin.

  He shrugged. ‘Thought I’d better get here before you hauled it into interview room one and started to question it.’

  ‘Great, all we need now is—’

  ‘Hey, boss, what’s gooin on here?’ Stacey said, placing a third carrier bag on the desk.

  Kim threw up her hands in despair.

  ‘Bryant, tell me you didn’t call all of the armed forces out too just in case.’

  ‘No, that’s pretty much everyone,’ he said, without apology. ‘Now if I’d had the chance to send out invitations…’

  ‘What’s all this?’ she asked, nodding towards the carrier bags.

  ‘Nappies,’ said Bryant, laying the baby on the desk.

  ‘Milk,’ Stacey said.

  ‘A toy,’ Dawson answered.

  ‘From the three wise bloody men,’ she said. ‘Sorry, Stace. But for your information the kid isn’t moving in. We’re minding it for a few hours not adopting it.’

  Bryant began to remove the baby’s suit as Dawson looked thoughtful.

  ‘So, if we’re the three wise men, doesn’t that make you the virg?—’

  ‘I dare you to finish that sentence, Kev,’ she snapped, as Bryant turned towards her.

  ‘Congratulations, guv. It’s a boy,’ he said, with a smirk.

  Kim looked around at the three of them thoroughly enjoying themselves and began to wish she’d just handed the baby over to Jack and ignored his protests.

  She looked at the baby’s face gurgling happily up at Bryant. No, she’d done the right thing. The child was safe and warm and that was all that mattered.

  ‘Stace, can you pass me one of those nappies,’ Bryant said, as Kim reached for the coffee jug. It was going to be a long night.

  ‘I’ll get that, boss,’ Dawson offered.

  She began to shake her head as her mobile began to ring.

  ‘Stone,’ she answered.

  Her face changed as she listened carefully.

  ‘Okay, got it,’ she said, ending the call.

  ‘Bryant, hand over the baby. We’ve got a body on the Burton Road,’ she said, grabbing her coat.

  It was never a good call to receive but as she threw a backwards glance to the writhing small person on the desk, it was at least a situation she could deal with.

  SIX

  Kim arrived at the cordon tape eleven minutes after she’d received the call. The snow was still falling freely but had not yet frozen to the gritted roads.

  The row of shops backed onto an alleyway that led under a railway
tunnel and then disappeared into the east side of Hollytree.

  She stood for a moment with her back to the crime scene. If people were curious about the commotion they were prying at a distance. As yet members of the public had not congregated at the crime scene, eager for a front row seat to an image of a dead body.

  Bryant offered his warrant card as Kim donned the plastic shoe coverings offered to her.

  Halfway along the alley a familiar voice greeted her.

  ‘Detective Stone. I was hoping you would be the OIC called from your bed on this fresh, crisp morning.’

  ‘Keats, it’s almost two a.m. and I have not seen my house or dog in almost twenty-four hours. Feel free to bait me some more. I dare you. Now, what have we got?’

  Keats was the local pathologist whose mood rarely elevated beyond obnoxious. He was a short man with facial hair only on his chin, which appeared to compensate for the sparseness on his head. His humour was dry, sarcastic and usually aimed at her. Most days she liked the man a lot. At this hour, she did not.

  ‘Ah, Bryant, thank goodness,’ Keats said, as her colleague appeared behind her. ‘A much more accomplished conversationalist.’

  Bryant groaned. ‘Don’t tempt her, Keats. Not while I’m the closest one to her.’

  Although Kim heard their banter she tuned it out.

  The alley was dark, illuminated only by a street lamp at the cordon. The police photographer took a snap. The flash illuminated the whole alley.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ Kim said. ‘Do it again.’

  This time she was ready and took her own mental snapshot. She was looking at the body of a female in her early twenties. The blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail revealing a face not yet ravaged by time. The eyes were open and stared up into the sky.

  ‘Do it again,’ Kim said.

  Snowflakes were landing on her eyelashes, holding for a second before disappearing. It was eerie to see that the eyes didn’t blink as flakes fell onto the open eyes.

  She wore a short denim skirt, no leg coverings and black stiletto heels. The top of her head to her neck and her thighs to her feet looked relatively normal.

  ‘And again,’ she said.

  Kim could not identify the colour of the upper body garments. The entire area was stained red.

  ‘And again.’

  This time Kim could see at least three tears in the fabric.

  ‘Here, take this,’ Keats said, offering her a Maglite torch.

  She took it and aimed it at the torso. The blood had soaked into the snow around the body. It looked like training day at the butcher’s.

  ‘How many stab wounds?’

  ‘I’ve counted four so far but I’ll confirm that once I get her back.’

  Kim nodded. ‘Timing?’

  ‘Liver tells me she’s been dead for around three hours but you already know—’

  ‘It’s difficult to be more precise because of the weather,’ she finished for him.

  ‘Good to see you’re learning, Inspector.’

  Kim ignored him as she cast the torch over the body again. She fought the urge to lean down and close the eyes as though shutting the doors on the woman’s suffering and sending her towards peace. A final act of kindness.

  She could have guesstimated the approximate time Keats had given her without the aid of the liver probe. The snow had started falling around nine o’clock and had grown heavier around eleven. With the smattering of snow evident on her upturned hands Kim would have guessed at around three hours.

  ‘Is that a handbag underneath her right arm?’ she asked.

  Keats nodded and then looked at the forensic photographer, who stepped back.

  ‘Go on,’ Keats advised, giving her permission to move it.

  Kim leaned down and lifted the right arm gently. She used the torch to lift the flap of leather so she could see inside. At the top of the handbag was a bunch of notes.

  ‘Last punter?’ Bryant asked, opening an evidence bag.

  ‘Yeah, and not too long ago.’

  Kim dropped the notes into the bag. ‘She didn’t even have a chance to fold it in with the rest.’

  A small roll of notes lay at the bottom of the bag, pitifully thin for a night out working in these conditions.

  Other than condoms and a set of house keys on a smiley key ring there was little else in the main section of the bag. She felt into the side pocket and found what she’d been looking for: a driving licence and a mobile phone.

  She shone the torch at the driving licence.

  ‘Kelly Rowe.’ She peered closer. ‘Aged twenty-one, address in Wordsley.’

  ‘Not robbery then, guv?’

  Kim shook her head. She had known that immediately. The handbag had been underneath the body, so the victim had fallen on top of it. Had the bag been the motive it would have been subject to a tussle or struggle and would more likely have been forward of the body or to the side. Additionally, very few robbers then re-closed the handbag after emptying it.

  ‘Think that top batch of cash is important?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘Not as much as we’d like,’ she answered. ‘That money came from the last customer who was happy to pay for her services. The killer would have kept the money.’ She thought for a minute. ‘Pass that evidence bag again.’

  ‘The cash?’

  She nodded, and examined it under the light of the torch. She was guessing it was forty or fifty pounds but however much it was, the money appeared to be in denominations of £5 notes.

  ‘Whoever paid with this may be able to tell us which direction she went but that’s probably about it.’

  She turned. ‘Keats, when—?’

  ‘Monday morning and I won’t be bullied into any earlier. We have three expired pensioners at the mortuary at the moment and I’m sure you’d like me to take care of this lady personally, and I have just worked eleven days straight.’

  Kim opened her mouth and closed it again. He had recently assisted in another county with a house fire that had claimed the lives of four children under the age of nine.

  Keats clutched his chest. ‘What’s this, Inspector, no arguments, no coercion, no threats?’

  Just to play with his head she smiled at him and walked away. Two officers passed her carrying a privacy screen. The narrow alleyway would not contain a white tent. Common sense should have dictated that few passers-by would be interested on a cold winter’s night and yet macabre fascination knew no season.

  She removed the shoe coverings and placed them in the box beside the two officers guarding the cordon.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked Bryant as he took his phone from his pocket.

  ‘Baby was collected from the station ten minutes ago by social services. Kev’s dropping Stacey back home.’

  Kim acknowledged the relief that flowed through her. She spoke to Bryant across the roof of the car.

  ‘Let them know we’re briefing at seven. Get a message to the notifying officer that nothing is to be mentioned of Kelly’s profession to her family, got it?’

  Bryant nodded and looked at his watch. ‘So the day starts again in about five hours, guv?’

  Kim opened the driver’s door and was half bent into the vehicle when a movement to the right of the cordon caught her eye. She straightened and narrowed her eyes, staring past the darkness.

  The figure had disappeared.

  But she knew for sure it had been there.

  SEVEN

  Kim seated herself at the spare desk in the squad room. She’d been in at six and already managed a quick meeting with Woody. There was no need to share the entire agenda of that meeting with her team quite yet.

  ‘Okay, guys, our victim, Kelly Rowe, was a sex worker. Stace, get the board.’

  Stacey took the marker and transferred the information to the board.

  ‘She was twenty-one years of age, a single mother who lives with her own mum in Wordsley. The night’s takings were still in her purse, so definitely not robbery and there were at least four st
ab wounds to the torso. Time of death was around eleven last night.’

  ‘We looking for her last punter, boss?’ Dawson asked.

  Kim shook her head. ‘I’m not convinced her last punter did it,’ she admitted, still questioning the wad of notes sitting at the top of Kelly’s handbag.

  ‘We’ve got no post-mortem until tomorrow as Keats is taking the day off. Bryant and I will be starting with the family and I want you two looking at CCTV to see if you can identify the person who left the baby last night.’

  It appeared to be an example of finders’ keepers as Woody had already allocated them the abandoned baby case in addition to the murder investigation.

  Dawson’s head shot up. ‘Isn’t that something Stacey can do on her?—’

  ‘I want you two working together on this one,’ Kim said.

  ‘But surely you need me on the real—’

  ‘That baby looked pretty real to me,’ Kim snapped.

  She understood that Dawson would see an abandoned baby as a lower priority and would want to be involved in a murder case but the baby was theirs whether they wanted it or not.

  ‘I get to leave the office?’ Stacey asked, widening her eyes.

  ‘Yes, once you’ve taken a look through these witness statements from last night.’

  ‘And I get a partner again?’ Dawson joked.

  Stacey frowned at him.

  He smiled. ‘But that’s okay seeing as it’s you.’

  Kim checked Stacey’s expression for any hint of hesitation or reservation. She found none. It had only been a couple of months since the constable’s traumatic experience at the hands of a bunch of racist bastards. Kim had kept her deskbound ever since but she knew she had to loosen the reins and allow her to do her job and not only the data mining. Yes, that left a gap in the team but it was a situation she had already addressed with Woody.

  ‘If you come up with anything, give me a call on the mobile,’ Kim said, grabbing her jacket from the desk. She was halfway down the stairs before Bryant caught up with her.

  Kim hadn’t called a press conference. She hadn’t needed to. She fought her way through reporters three deep to leave the building.

  Reporters and photographers stood in huddles. She recognised a few of the locals from the Express and the free papers. A Central News reporter and a BBC Midlands Today cameraman were sharing something on their mobile phones. A Sky News correspondent was busy texting, and Tracy Frost from the Dudley Star was front and centre.