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

by Angela Marsons

  She would allow Bryant the pleasure of suitably advising him that wasn’t the case once they were done.

  From the doorway the single room held a drop-down double bed in the corner. Half of the bed was covered in clothes and doubled up as storage leaving just the left-hand side free for her to crawl into each night. Above the bed were two shelves lodged into the corner. The left-hand side of the room held a two-seater sofa that faced a dark wooden drawer unit with a space that would have accommodated a small television if she’d had one.

  Kim guessed that anything of value was long gone, having been sold to support her drug habit.

  Mounds of clothing littered the space with a pile of dirty underwear in the corner beside the sofa. Kim opened the top drawer of the dresser. It was full of odds and ends: manicure set, charger cable, loose change and drug paraphernalia. Kim spotted a mirror and razor to chop powdered cocaine, a syringe, spoon, tourniquet and a broken meth pipe at the back.

  She closed the drawer and stepped into the kitchen as Bryant approached the bedroom area.

  Kim was struck by the order of the small space. Only two narrow work surfaces were present above a fridge and a freezer. A plain silver kettle and tea canisters took up the area next to the sink. A spice rack and a blender sat next to one of Jamie Oliver’s early cook books. She opened the top drawer to find the cutlery organised and segmented, unlike the one in the dresser. The second drawer housed giant plastic spoons, a masher and other utensils that Kim did not recognise. The third and biggest drawer was full of pots and pans and a slow cooker, a measuring cup and a set of old-fashioned weighing scales. The surfaces although old were clean and shiny. A small bin in the corner held squares of kitchen roll. The dated taps had been wiped clear of smears and watermarks. The two top cupboards were sparse but ordered with a few tins and half a loaf of bread.

  She heard Bryant sigh and glanced across. He had picked up a couple of garments from the bed. In his left hand was a short black skirt and in the other a yellow spaghetti-strapped vest top.

  ‘Not a bloody cardigan or jumper in sight,’ he said.

  Kim turned back to the kitchen. At some stage this girl had enjoyed cooking and if she didn’t do it any more she had still not let go of the tools and equipment.

  ‘Hey, guv, look at this,’ Bryant said, quietly.

  Kim took three steps and joined him next to Donna’s bed. He pointed to the shelf above the small collection of comical pottery pigs. ‘Pride and bloody Prejudice,’ he said, nodding towards one of the books. ‘Can’t believe this poor girl was still searching for happily ever after.’

  ‘Or salvation,’ Kim said, nodding towards the other book which appeared to be a second-hand bible.

  ‘A contradiction, eh?’ Bryant asked.

  Kim shook her head. ‘Just a person, Bryant. Full of likes and dislikes, fears and hopes. I’m still waiting to meet the stereotype.’

  She reached for the well-thumbed paperback and leafed through it. A single photo fell out and fluttered to the ground.

  Kim reached down and turned it over. She frowned as she took a closer look. It was a girl in her early teens sitting in front of a blue sky. Her hair was mousy but well cut around the plump, attractive face.

  ‘That’s not Donna,’ Bryant said, shaking his head.

  ‘I think it is,’ she said, taking in the warm, genuine smile and the friendly hazel eyes that stared right down the lens of the camera. She’d seen those eyes staring up at the sky, lifeless.

  Kim felt the stab of sadness. This girl was vibrant, hopeful. There was an anticipation of life radiating from her. Suddenly Kim felt the burden of Donna’s death on her shoulders. While Donna had been alive those dreams could have been realised and now they were gone for good.

  Kim went to put the photo back in the book and then paused as something else on the photo caught her attention.

  Donna was wearing a green school blazer with a sewn motif on the pocket. She squinted to be sure of what she was seeing.

  She pointed.

  ‘Jesus, Bryant, will you take a look at that?’

  FORTY-NINE

  Kai watched Roxanne struggle to her feet.

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Kai, you could have gone a little easier,’ she said, wiping at her bottom lip.

  He shrugged and took a sip of green tea. It was still warm.

  ‘She’s a stubborn one. Stronger than she looks.’

  Roxanne nodded her agreement.

  ‘But quite attached to you, I feel.’

  Roxanne shrugged

  ‘As long as those feelings are not reciprocated.’

  He caught her gaze. There was a deadness in her expression. A complete lack of emotion that brought a genuine smile to his face.

  ‘Of course not.’

  He looked deep into the eyes that bore no evidence of a soul within. He believed her.

  They made a good team, the two of them, and she had proven her loyalty to him repeatedly. She had come to work for him voluntarily when he’d taken command of Hollytree. And he had been amused by her arrogance when she stated they would be business partners in two years.

  Four months later she had become the girl who earned most and complained least. Two months after that she had successfully proven to him that two of his girls had been keeping back money. The two slags had been dealt with, and Roxanne had become his ‘Top Girl’.

  Roxanne had quickly proven invaluable. She kept his records, kept him updated on law activity and took responsibility for recruiting prostitutes. It had been her idea to diversify into procurement of young girls.

  He had tested her numerous times by leaving money lying about or purposely transferring too much money into her account each month. She had never let him down and, although their little fight scene had been perfected for effect, a few well-placed blows ensured she remembered who was in charge, at all times.

  The sullen look on her face told him she’d got the message loud and clear.

  He finished his drink and stood. ‘I’ll be back to get her tomorrow.’

  ‘I thought you were putting her out on the strip?’ Roxanne asked, wrapping blocks of ice in a tea towel.

  ‘She’s going to be trouble. I can feel it. I’m going to change the plan.’

  Understanding began to dawn in her eyes.

  ‘The mess-up on Sunday night?’

  He nodded. ‘That bitch copper got in the way. We owe our client a girl.’

  ‘And she was terrified you were putting her out on the strip,’ Roxanne observed, with a smile.

  He laughed. ‘Oh, how she’ll wish I had,’ he said, cheerfully.

  Where she was going was a one-way trip.

  FIFTY

  ‘I’m going to have to ask you to do it here,’ Steven Robertson said, showing them into a break room. A row of lockers lined one wall, pausing for a sink unit. On the shorter wall was a small workspace with a kettle and tea-making canisters. Beneath which sat a narrow fridge. A round table with three chairs dominated the centre of the room.

  Stacey was sure they could have been housed somewhere better than the tea room but she supposed he didn’t really want prospective clients asking difficult questions.

  ‘Are all the girls fluent in English, Mr Robertson?’ Stacey asked, casting Dawson a sideways glance.

  He shook his head and then seemed to have a thought.

  ‘I’ll have Cristina come in with you. She’s new and doesn’t know the others too well but she’ll be able to assist with the language barrier.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said.

  ‘Is there anything else I can get you?’ he asked politely.

  They both shook their heads.

  ‘Okay, I’ll get the first girl sent in.’

  ‘Good thinking, Stace,’ Dawson said, once the door had closed behind him.

  ‘Yeah, still not sure why he’s suddenly being so helpful,’ she admitted.

  ‘One of two reasons,’ Dawson said, stifling a yawn. ‘Either he has nothing to hide or he’
s incredibly confident we won’t find what he has to hide.’

  ‘Do you think he does know our victim?’ Stacey asked.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he answered. ‘I didn’t get that impression when he looked at the photo. And it was a bit thin to be honest. So, it’s back onto the Romanian eateries tomorrow,’ he said, as a soft tap sounded on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ Stacey called.

  Cristina’s head appeared around the door.

  Stacey beckoned her in.

  She hesitated then entered.

  ‘How are you?’ Stacey asked with a smile. The woman seemed consistently nervous.

  ‘I am well, thank you.’

  ‘Did you have a chance to look at those pages for us?’ Dawson asked.

  She nodded, took some folded pages from her overall pocket and passed them her way. She looked back to the closed door as though waiting for someone to come in and berate her. Stacey quickly put the pages into her satchel, and thanked her.

  ‘Did Mr Robertson explain why we need you?’ Dawson asked, gently.

  She nodded. ‘You want to ask the ladies some questions and you want me to translate.’

  Dawson nodded and once again took out his phone.

  ‘We’ve already asked you about the baby, but would you mind taking a look at this photo for us?’

  Cristina stepped forward.

  ‘Do you know this man?’

  Cristina stared at the photo for ten seconds before shaking her head.

  ‘N-no, I don’t know him, I’m sorry.’

  ‘Cristina, are you sure?’ Stacey asked.

  The girl nodded and looked back at the phone. ‘He looks dead,’ she breathed.

  Dawson removed the photo from the screen.

  ‘Cristina, is everything…’

  Stacey stopped speaking as a knock sounded on the door.

  Cristina took two steps back to the corner of the room as Dawson shouted ‘enter’.

  A thin sliver of a woman entered. Her back appeared to be slightly hunched and she looked a few years older than Cristina.

  ‘This is Natalya,’ Cristina said, as the woman slid into the spare seat. She turned and looked to Cristina for some kind of reassurance.

  ‘Can you please tell her that she’s done nothing wrong and isn’t in any kind of trouble?’

  Cristina relayed the message, and Natalya turned to face them. None of the tension had left her face.

  ‘Cristina, would you please explain what we told you about the baby left at the police station?’ Stacey asked.

  Although they also had a dead body to identify, Stacey didn’t want to show the anxious woman the picture immediately. Seeing photos of corpses tended to hinder your focus.

  Stacey watched as horror filled the woman’s face, followed by a slight reddening of the eyes. Eventually a shake of the head.

  ‘She doesn’t know anyone,’ Cristina said.

  ‘Does she know anyone that has recently had a baby?’

  Cristina asked. The woman hesitated before launching into an angry tirade. The words shot out of her mouth. And just as suddenly stopped as she turned away from Cristina.

  ‘She says no,’ Cristina said.

  ‘Seems like she said a whole lot more than that,’ Dawson observed.

  ‘She also asked if you morons were going to ask her everything twice but I didn’t think that was relevant.’

  Stacey forced down the sudden smile that came to her lips. There was an element of relief that they had found someone with an ounce of spirit.

  ‘Natalya, could you look at this photograph and tell us if you recognise this man?’

  Dawson pushed the phone towards her once Cristina had finished speaking.

  She took one look and shook her head. Her eyes had barely glanced at the screen.

  ‘Please take another look,’ Dawson said, willing to risk the woman’s wrath again.

  Her face tightened but she looked back at the phone. She looked right at them and shook her head.

  ‘Natalya, is everything okay? Are you scared of anyone?’ Stacey asked.

  Cristina translated her response.

  ‘She says she is not scared. She is happy here and the Robertsons are a good people.’

  Stacey found the detailed response odd but let it pass.

  Her gaze met Dawson’s and a message passed between them. They were getting nothing more from Natalya.

  ‘Okay, Cristina,’ Stacey said. ‘We’re ready for the next.’

  Two hours and five interviews later Stacey found herself with no more information than when they’d walked in.

  Cristina took the opportunity to hold up her cigarettes and lighter.

  ‘May I?’

  ‘Of course,’ Stacey said, and then turned to Dawson. ‘I could do with a bathroom break myself.’

  He nodded and she knew his frustration matched her own.

  It was the same response from every woman.

  No, they knew nothing about a baby.

  No, they didn’t recognise the man.

  They were happy to be here and the Robertsons were good people.

  They were no longer asking about the factory but were getting that answer anyway.

  Stacey headed back to the toilets she’d passed earlier. She paused and then carried on walking. The next corner along the corridor led to the shop floor.

  Stacey took a look at all the heads bent while their hands and feet worked in unison at the sewing machines.

  A woman they hadn’t yet spoken to appeared to exit a tiny office in the corner of the factory beneath the mezzanine. She started heading across the factory floor towards her. Clearly she was next.

  Stacey watched in fascination as another woman was summoned to the poky room in the corner.

  Stacey turned on her heel and left.

  ‘Well, this is a complete waste of time,’ she said, closing the door to the break room behind her.

  ‘Keep the faith, Stace. It only takes one.’

  ‘Never gonna happen, Kev,’ Stacey said, reaching for her satchel. ‘Because every one of these girls has been coached.’

  FIFTY-ONE

  ‘Where the bloody hell is he?’ Kim asked, ending another attempt to call Penn.

  She was eager to pass on what she’d learned about Donna Hill.

  ‘Give the kid a break. You’ve got him running here, there and everywhere. I’m sure the seven missed calls will demonstrate how urgently you want to speak to him and he’ll ring you back when he can.’

  ‘Stacey would have—’

  ‘Don’t even,’ he warned. ‘You put Stacey out in the field and brought Penn in, why?’

  ‘Because it was the right thing to do,’ she replied.

  ‘Exactly but you’ve got that poor Penn kid on the phones, out in the field, mining data. To be fair, Stacey never had to—’

  ‘Oh shut up,’ she snapped, maturely.

  He chuckled, knowing she had no answer. ‘So, is Roger Barton fizzing about in your gut?’ he asked, as he negotiated the narrow Drive Thru at McDonald’s.

  ‘I’m not sure “fizzing” is the right word. I’m pretty sure he’s lying to us about something but he handed the car over without a warrant so he must be pretty sure we’re not going to find anything to link him to either Kelly or Donna,’ she said, as Bryant spoke into a silver machine. He enunciated every word as though speaking to a foreign exchange student. The cheery voice repeated his order and instructed him to move onto the next window.

  ‘Or feels he’ll be able to explain it away because they were both known to him. And he’d have a point. There’s every chance we might find some evidence of either one of them having been in his car.’

  Yeah, she knew that. The request had been more to gauge his reaction to it. After a private phone call to his lawyer he’d agreed it could be collected for forensic examination. They had waited over an hour for the techs to turn up and take it away.

  ‘We could have brought him in for questioning on what we had?’ Bry
ant observed.

  Except they’d already shown him all they had, which was the £5 notes and his knowledge of both victims.

  ‘I want something more before we question him again,’ she said, as Bryant took his brown paper bag and placed it on the dashboard.

  He eased into a space that faced onto the road.

  ‘Not good for you,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘I’m sure this is healthier than not eating at all,’ he rebuked, opening the paper bag.

  ‘May I?’ she asked.

  He nodded. She reached into the bag, took out the large order of fries, wound down her window and dropped them in the bin.

  ‘Jesus, guv…’

  ‘Your wife and cholesterol level will thank me,’ she said, wiping her hands on a napkin.

  He took out the burger. ‘Permission to eat the rest of my lunch, guv?’

  ‘Granted,’ she said, removing the lid from her drink.

  He took a bite, chewed and then turned towards her.

  ‘Guv, I’ve just got one question I need answered before we move on?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Can’t I file a grievance against you?’

  ‘For what?’ she asked, fighting a smile.

  ‘Throwing away my chips.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not really. Comes under my duty of care.’

  He lifted the burger to his mouth and then threw it back into the bag, shaking his head.

  ‘Weird how your disapproval has a direct line to my taste buds.’

  She laughed out loud. ‘We’ll pick up something your missus would approve of in a bit. Now you check in with Dawson and Stace while I give Penn another call.’

  He threw the bag into the bin and took out his phone.

  Penn answered on the second ring. ‘Boss, I was just about to give you a call,’ he said as a greeting.

  ‘I should think so after all my messages,’ she said, ‘but let me go first. Get back to digging on Donna Hill. Found a photo in her flat. Looks like she attended Heathcrest Academy over in—’

  ‘The private school in Harvington?’