Page 36 of Silent Scream
She brushed a second time and then stopped. ‘Okay, I need anyone who is not forensically trained to step out of the pit, immediately.’
Cerys remained in the pit alone. She turned and met Kim’s gaze. ‘We have bones, Detective and unless it had five fingers, it isn’t a dead dog.’
No one spoke for a few seconds as they all contemplated the discovery.
Then, as though the newly exposed bones had emitted some kind of siren two squad cars screeched onto the gravel and her mobile began to ring.
It was Woody. Thank God.
‘Stone, get back here and bring Bryant with you,’ he barked.
‘Sir, I need to let you know ...’
‘Anything you have to say can wait until you get here.’
‘But there are bones in this ground.’
‘And I’ve already told you to get back here immediately and if that’s longer than fifteen minutes don’t bother coming back at all.’
The line went dead. She turned to Bryant. ‘I think he knows.’
Bryant rolled his eyes.
‘Go on, I’ll see you there.’
Bryant nodded and headed back to his car.
‘Listen folks, thanks for your help but if anyone asks, Bryant never touched a thing, okay?’
They all nodded.
Kim sprinted to her bike and donned her helmet and gloves. She pulled away from the site and prepared to face the music.
Twenty
There issomething within her that compels me.
She is surrounded by activity; sirens, vehicles, movement, and yet my eyes never leave her. She stands out from the crowd. A three-dimensional image in a two-dimensional film.
There is unruly energy within her. Like a demon driving her on. It is dark and it intrigues me. Even amongst the crowd, she is alone. Even when she's still, she moves. A hand clench or a foot tap keeps in time with a brain that never rests.
Although I've never seen her before, I know her. I know her intelligence, her restlessness and that natural suspicion in her gaze. She has a sense that is hidden from most. It is indefinable and without name but it is attuned to everything around her. And I've seen it before.
Aaah, Caitlin. Dear sweet adorable Caitlin ...
All too soon, she is gone. A film without its star. My interest wanes but I remain where I am, lost momentarily in my thoughts.
What came first, the chicken or the egg? It is a question I have asked myself often. Did I feel nothing when my mother rejected me, or did she reject me because I felt nothing?
It is a question pored over by many a scholar. Is a psychopath born or made? They have no answer and neither do I.
There was a time when I battled against it, fought it, even tried to understand it but that was a long time ago.
My journey began with a fish. Just an ordinary anonymous goldfish won at a travelling fair by my father. I carried it home. It lived in a bowl for two days and then died.
My sister was inconsolable. I was not. She mourned its loss but I felt nothing. I wanted what she had. I wanted her pain, I wanted her grief. I wanted tofeel.
Next came the kitten. Its fur was soft and warm. It was supposed to be ours but it loved her more. It didn't really struggle as I covered its mouth. And after its last breath I waited but still nothing came upon me.
