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

by Angela Marsons

  He shook his head. ‘Exactly not what we’re going for,’ he said.

  She opened the clasp. ‘I’ve got an old electricity bill and a gnarled pencil.’

  ‘Okay, that’ll have to do. Now follow my lead,’ he said, removing his suit jacket before getting out of the car.

  He loosened his tie after knocking the door.

  ‘What are we…’ she asked.

  ‘Ssh…’ he said, as a bolt slid across the bottom of the door.

  A man in his mid-twenties answered wearing stained jogging bottoms and no shirt. Bed hair stuck out from his head.

  Suspicion filled his eyes

  ‘Morning, mate, sorry to disturb you. Annual property inspection,’ he said, glancing at Stacey.

  She nodded and smiled.

  The man frowned.

  ‘Won’t take more than a minute. Just checking for damp and cracks.’

  ‘Sorry but no speak—’

  ‘It’s okay,’ he reassured. ‘Nicolae…’ he added, and gave the thumbs up to indicate that Nicolae had given permission.

  The man didn’t move.

  ‘Take us ten minutes,’ Stacey offered. ‘And then you can get back to sleep,’ she said, laying her head on her hand.

  More hesitation.

  Dawson shrugged and turned to walk away. ‘Okey-dokey, we’ll call Nicolae and tell—’

  ‘Okay, come,’ he said, stepping aside.

  Dawson walked into a dark, narrow hallway. The walls were covered in Anaglypta wallpaper that had been painted so many times the original design was barely discernible. He had to swallow deeply to quell the gagging from the stench. Body odour and stale food mixed together filled the space. No windows appeared to be open to offer any type of escape from the cloying air.

  He stepped into the front reception room and pretended not to notice the four single occupied beds that filled the space. The carpet was littered with burger wrappers and plastic bottles. Every inch of space had been given to mattresses. Items of clothing peeped out from beneath them in the absence of storage area.

  Dawson stepped around the gentle snoring and made a show of looking each wall up and down. ‘Clear,’ he called back to Stacey as his gaze fell on the empty bed. Less litter surrounded that space.

  Stacey pretended to make a note of his findings as she followed him to the back room. Three more beds were stuffed into the space. Two were occupied. The male who had let them in reached down to retrieve a half bottle of orange juice, signalling his own area of slumber. He mumbled and then pointed to two strips of wallpaper peeling down from the ceiling displaying water damage from the bathroom above. Stacey pretended to note it down.

  Dawson repeated the inspection process and headed towards the kitchen.

  From the open doorway he could see an abundance of half-filled carrier bags, A couple of pairs of trainers and more fast food wrappers. Behind the door was a wooden banquette seat normally kept in utility rooms of the wealthy and used for removing dirty boots and clothing before entering the home. A piece of rope was fixed from one side to the other.

  He looked at Stacey questioningly. ‘Any ideas?’ he whispered.

  She nodded. ‘Extra sleeping space. Sitting up. Rope stops ’em from falling out.’

  Dawson decided he’d seen enough. This was exactly the kind of place that Devon had warned them about. Human beings were being packed into tiny airless rooms and treated worse than dogs. He suspected that upstairs was going to be no different.

  And he now had a suspicion about what he’d already seen.

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said, turning to the only male awake.

  He took out his phone and then pointed into the first room he’d entered.

  ‘That empty bed in there. Did it belong to this man here?’

  Recognition flashed across his face before he began to nod his head.

  SEVENTY-TWO

  ‘You really think she could be in there, guv?’

  Kim shrugged and continued to watch the front windows for any sign of movement.

  Her phone rang. She answered it and listened to Penn.

  ‘Thanks,’ Kim said, ending the call. She looked to Bryant. ‘House belongs to Kai Lord.’

  ‘Shit,’ Bryant said, and Kim had to agree. This case was turning into a spider’s web with strands crossing and stretching across everyone they met.

  Finally, her question had been answered on the link between Kai Lord and Kelly Rowe. The intermediary had been this woman named Roxanne.

  Kim looked into the rear-view mirror and saw a middle-aged woman pottering along the pavement. As she made her way along she pushed back each recently emptied bin onto the appropriate property.

  ‘Go on, Bryant, get her,’ she said.

  Bryant jumped out of the car and she followed.

  ‘Excuse me, could we just—’

  ‘Never put these bins back. You’d think they’d be grateful to have a job but no. And why are you sitting here doing nothing?’

  Oh perfect, Kim thought. There were certain types of people who proved invaluable to a police investigation and busybodies were right at the top of the list.

  ‘We’re police officers but there’s nothing to be alarmed about. We’ve had a report of screaming and shouting from this address.’

  The woman frowned. ‘I don’t think so, officer. It’s a very respectable young lady that lives there. Her boyfriend visits a couple of times a week and I have nothing against interracial coupling.’

  Kim hid her smile. The deliberate statement to the contrary revealed the exact opposite. And she suspected that the boyfriend was Kai Lord.

  ‘Other than that, Roxanne keeps to herself and causes no bother at all.’

  The woman had folded her arms.

  ‘And the charity work she does is commendable,’ the woman added.

  ‘Charity work?’ Kim asked. So far, this woman did not appear big on helping others.

  ‘Yes, she takes in teenage girls from broken homes who are waiting to be placed in temporary care.’

  Kim swallowed as the woman continued. ‘You’d think we’d have some trouble with all those teenagers but Roxanne has a way of—’

  ‘How many teenagers exactly?’ Kim asked quietly.

  ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘How many would you say Roxanne has taken care of?’ Kim asked with her heart rising up towards her mouth.

  ‘Oh, at least ten, maybe more and not one of them has been any bother. In fact, she’s taking care of one right now. I saw them come back with handfuls of bags the other day. Laughing and joking, pushing each other up the slippery path.’

  Kim’s mouth began to lose a little moisture.

  ‘Well, thank you for your time. It seems quiet enough, so I think there must be some mistake.’

  The woman nodded, crossed the road and continued her journey of pushing in the bins.

  ‘Guv, I can see what you’re thinking and we can’t—’

  Kim didn’t hear the rest. She had already turned to head back to the house.

  SEVENTY-THREE

  ‘So, do you wanna head back to the station and start searching missing persons’ reports?’ Dawson asked.

  Stacey shook her head. ‘What’s the point? We know when he went missing and we also know there have been no reports for a missing male since last Thursday. No one has reported his absence.’

  ‘So what now?’ he asked. ‘Given that all we know now is that his first name is Andrei. Basically, we’re back to the starting point of sweet fuck—’

  ‘Shush,’ Stacey said, taking out her phone.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked, looking over at her screen.

  ‘Thinking,’ she said.

  He rolled his eyes, dramatically. ‘Bloody hell, Stace, don’t be changing a habit of a lifetime right now while—’

  ‘It was something Vasile said at the café last night. It’s bothering me,’ she said.

  ‘From what you told me there was a fair bit that he said.’

  ‘Yea
h, but it wasn’t anything he meant to,’ she said, tapping on her phone.

  She searched her email for the electronic copy of the notes they’d given to Cristina and found what she was after. She took the translated notes from Cristina and read them again.

  ‘You know, Kev, there’s something not…’

  Her words trailed away as her mobile began to ring.

  The screen told her it was Devon.

  ‘Hey, I was just—’

  ‘It’s a fake,’ Devon said, without preamble.

  ‘What?’ Stacey asked.

  ‘The passport. It’s counterfeit. A bloody good one but definitely fake.’

  ‘Shit,’ Stacey said, looking towards her colleague.

  ‘We’re heading back over to that factory if you wanna tag along.’

  ‘On our way,’ Stacey said, ending the call.

  Not least because after what she now suspected that was exactly where she wanted to go.

  SEVENTY-FOUR

  ‘Guv, will you just stop a minute?’

  Kim was already assessing the side of the house for a suitable access point.

  ‘Will you just hold on? You could get in trouble for this. You know that we have nothing to justify going in there.’

  ‘Ten or more girls, Bryant? Does that sound like a normal social services arrangement? You ever heard of it before?’

  He paused then shook his head.

  ‘See, you have the exact same suspicions I do.’

  ‘But she said they were laughing and joking,’ Bryant offered.

  ‘Look, we know that there had to be a link between Kelly Rowe and Kai Lord. They would not necessarily have crossed paths.’

  She pointed next door. ‘Kelly Rowe lived right there and this Roxanne woman lives in Kai Lord’s house. There’s our link. We have a missing teenager with no money and no phone who appears to have been spending time with this woman. What if Ellie is in there right now? I’m happy to take the shit if I’m wrong.’

  ‘Yeah, you’ve got me,’ he said. ‘Let’s get in there.’

  She assessed the side of the house. There was only one window situated at high level. Kim guessed that was the bathroom. The window was closed making it not worth her time.

  A six foot fence prevented access to the rear.

  ‘Okay, there’s one choice. Over I go. Bryant, go grab that bin.’

  ‘Guv, hang on. Just stay put, I’ll be a few minutes, and try not to scale anything while I’m gone.’

  She nodded as he disappeared around the front of the building.

  In the meantime she began checking the stability of the fence posts. They were stable enough but the gate was the better option. Although the wood was rotting in places and the paint was peeling off, the horizontal pieces of wood should be strong enough to support her weight to get her leg over the top. It wasn’t something she hadn’t done before and she’d worry about what was on the other side when she got there. Protruding from the wall was the overflow pipe from the bathroom that she could grip to give her stability when searching for a foothold on the other side.

  She gave a gentle kick to the gate, which miraculously opened with Bryant on the other side.

  ‘You were thinking about it, weren’t you?’ he said, knowingly.

  Oh, how well he knew her, Kim thought as she stepped through. ‘How’d you get back here?’

  ‘I spoke nicely to the lady next door and asked if I could come through. It’s a four foot fence that separates the two properties.’

  Woody liked it when she buddied with Bryant and she kind of saw why.

  The rear of the house was formed of a set of French doors leading into the kitchen and dining area. Further along was a window with the blinds pulled down.

  Kim peered into the kitchen window and found the space to be clean and tidy and eerily quiet.

  Bryant knocked loudly on the glass. The sound seemed to echo around the space.

  ‘Just in case, guv.’

  They waited for a few seconds before Bryant tried the handle. It was locked.

  ‘Perhaps, if you talk nicely to it,’ Kim offered.

  Bryant offered her a filthy look and continued to fiddle.

  Kim picked up a decorative stone from the rockery.

  ‘Hey, Bryant, look over there.’

  He turned to look behind him. She smashed the rock against the glass panel to the right of the door handle.

  ‘Jesus, guv.’

  She shrugged. ‘And sometimes it’s my way.’

  She covered her hand with the cuff of her jacket and knocked at the pieces of glass still attached to the frame. She reached inside and turned the key in the lock. There were days when she thanked God for the public’s complacency.

  Bryant followed her into the kitchen.

  She stood for a moment, listening for sounds inside the house. She heard none. She closed her eyes and focussed. All she got was the emptiness of the house.

  ‘Guv, you really are harbouring the heart of a criminal in there.’

  She didn’t disagree.

  ‘Check upstairs; she’s been here, I know it.’

  Bryant rolled his eyes and headed out of the kitchen.

  ‘Lord, save me from your gut,’ he grumbled.

  The kitchen was tidy and smelled of bleach. She opened a couple of cupboard doors and found nothing except tinned foods and cleaning chemicals. She checked the bin but already knew that the rubbish had been collected earlier that day.

  Come on, come on, think, she silently instructed herself. Yes, the place had been cleaned and bleached, but why? What had taken place here? And more importantly, had anything been left behind?

  She lowered herself to the ground on her stomach and placed her cheek against the floor. Her attention focussed underneath the washing machine. The area closest to the bin. She could just make out a couple of coins, some beads, fluff and debris,

  But just in the corner was something else.

  She placed her flat hand on the ground and swept as far back as she could. Out came one of the coins, a few beads and a balled-up square of kitchen roll.

  ‘Oh, shit,’ she said, as she got a closer look. The kitchen roll was stained with blood.

  She jumped to her feet and met Bryant back in the hallway.

  ‘Only evidence of one room being used, guv; the master bedroom. The second bedroom is stripped bare and the box room is just full of junk.’

  She showed him the kitchen roll. ‘There’s something here, Bryant, I can feel it.’

  ‘Well, whatever it is wins the hide-and-seek game,’ he said. ‘That tissue could have been a simple nosebleed,’ he offered logically. ‘Now, can we get back to investigating our own case before we’re both arrested for breaking and entering?’

  Kim stepped back into the kitchen.

  Beyond the small utility room was a door. Kim strode to it and opened it. She looked down into the darkened space.

  ‘Just a cellar, guv,’ Bryant said from behind her.

  Kim hit the light switch but nothing happened.

  ‘Shine your torch,’ she said.

  The shaft of light illuminated a space approximately six feet long by four feet wide. The ceiling sloped down reducing the amount of usable space.

  Kim took one step down and wrinkled her nose.

  ‘Do you smell that?’ she asked.

  Bryant shook his head.

  ‘Someone’s used this cellar for a toilet.’

  ‘Takes all sorts, guv,’ Bryant offered.

  Kim stood on the second step and focussed her mind.

  No one chose to urinate in a cellar when there was a perfectly good toilet upstairs.

  Ellie had been locked in this space. Probably for refusing to comply.

  Kim turned and headed back up the steps.

  Bryant lowered his torch to aid her footing. Something glinted at her from the stone.

  She reached down and retrieved the tiny object.

  ‘Take out the photo, Bryant,’ she said, quietly.
r />   Bryant took the folded copy from his inside pocket.

  Kim stood beside him. She held the black stud earring against the photo. It was a match.

  ‘Dammit,’ Bryant said.

  Kim took one last look into the cellar and summarised what was now staring her in the face:

  She knew that Ellie Greaves had been imprisoned in this cellar.

  She knew that the young girl had left a clue in removing her earring.

  She knew the kid was way out of her depth and scared to death.

  And she knew she’d arrived too damn late.

  SEVENTY-FIVE

  The van was already parked twenty metres away from the property when they arrived.

  Seven immigration officers were huddled around Devon and Grant.

  ‘Okay,’ Grant said, pointing around the circle. ‘You two secure the entrance and exit. Devon, take three with you onto the factory floor and I’ll take Neale and Dixon up to the mezzanine to speak to the owner.’

  Stacey hadn’t considered the entrance and exit points but she guessed it wasn’t unusual for illegal immigrants to make a run for it.

  ‘Be calm, courteous and respectful,’ Grant said, casting his eyes around the circle.

  Once he’d received an affirmative nod from each one, he continued.

  ‘Okay, all set?’

  A joint sound of assent rumbled around them.

  ‘Go,’ he instructed.

  ‘Stay behind us and let us do our thing,’ Devon said to them both.

  ‘Understood,’ Dawson said, as they followed the uniformed officers to the door. Dawson caught her gaze and nodded towards the operation leader, indicating that he would head up to the mezzanine. Stacey would remain with Devon.

  Grant charged into the reception and continued around the reception desk with a stream of officers behind him.

  Melody already had the phone in her hand.

  Although he’d spoken to his team about conduct, Stacey guessed the initial show of force was intended to take the occupants by surprise, giving less time to plan, form a story or make an attempt to escape.

  ‘I need to speak to one particular girl,’ Stacey said to Devon as they thundered through the corridors.

  Devon nodded her understanding as she exited onto the shop floor. The officers fanned out around the room and began speaking to the employees.