Page 38 of Dying Truth
‘What’s that?’
‘Why you’re still sitting here when the boss has green-lighted your line of enquiry.’ She narrowed her eyes. ‘Now, as much as I’d like to think you’re that interested in my personal life, I suspect it’s cos you want something from me, so come on, cough.’
He smirked. Jesus, she knew him well.
‘Need some background on a couple of kids from Heathcrest. Young lad named Geoffrey Piggott and a girl named Tilly Tromans.’
‘Why?’ she asked, simply. ‘There are hundreds of kids there, why these two?
He shrugged. ‘The only two I’ve found so far who seem to have known Sadie at all.’
‘Okay, but you’ll have to get in line. Boss’s work comes first,’ she said matter-of-factly.
‘Thanks, Stace,’ he said, with a wink.
‘So, what did you find out that you didn’t share with the boss, Kev?’ she asked shrewdly.
He smiled but said nothing. Her antenna was too well tuned this morning.
He wanted to find out a little bit more about this Queen of Hearts.
Twenty-Five
‘So, what you thinking the grieving parents want to show us, guv?’ Bryant asked, as he drove through pools of water from an earlier storm.
The town of Droitwich sat on the River Salwarpe and was the only Midlands area to be in Halifax ‘Quality of Life Survey’ of 2011.
The satnav deposited them at a tarmac drive flanked by bare, gnarled trees with branches like witches’ fingers beckoning them to enter. The trees gave way to natural parkland with a dwelling a half mile in the distance.
‘Their own lake?’ Bryant observed, glancing to his right.
Kim said nothing. Whatever their material trappings and possessions they had just lost their thirteen-year-old daughter. How much of this would they be prepared to give to get Sadie back? Every bit of it, she suspected.
Although she couldn’t help the stab of disappointment at the house as they neared it. The flat white frontage of the monstrous property screamed Regency incarnation but without the age or history behind it. Any ‘original features’ inside the house would be the total opposite. Manufactured to appear authentic.
Bryant parked the car between two identical Range Rover models. One in black and one in white.
‘Nice,’ Kim observed.
‘Queen of understatement there, guv,’ Bryant said.
She shrugged. Give her a bike, any bike and she could tell you its history but fascination with cars was a bit of a mystery to her.
‘If I was a fifteen-year-old boy this is the car that would be on my wall,’ he continued, looking in the window as he passed. ‘It’s the new SVAutobiography, 5litreV8 engine and 539break horse power.’
Kim remained unimpressed.
‘That’s the equivalent of five Ford Fiestas, and they come in at around one hundred and fifty grand each,’ he explained.
So, if cars of that value are parked outside, exposed to the elements, what on earth is being stored in the three-car garage on the west side of the courtyard? she wondered.
‘Not guessing, Bryant, so don’t even ask me,’ Kim said as they strode across the pristine white gravel towards the pillared portico entrance.
Secretly she would have guessed the house value at around six million, but she was more fascinated with the cleanliness of the tiny white stones on the ground.
The door opened before they had chance to knock. Mrs Winters stood before them, pale faced with a tremulous smile and a proffered hand.
‘Thank you for coming so promptly, officers,’ she said.
