Page 30 of First Blood
She struggled to believe it had been only that morning that she’d left the house with no team and no case. And now she had both.
She switched on the percolator before removing her jacket. It was a job she did every morning, prepare the coffee machine for her return. She knew she’d down the pot, whatever the time.
She didn’t bother to switch on the TV or the radio. She’d never needed additional sounds to fill the house. And she didn’t plan on spending too long in the living room anyway.
A coffee at the breakfast bar followed by a shower and change and then she’d be headed into the garage to work on the explosion of bike parts that would eventually turn into a fully restored 1951 Triumph Thunderbird.
It was a passion she had adopted from foster family four. A middle-aged couple called Keith and Erica who had no children of their own.
From the age of ten to thirteen she had known how it had felt to be part of a family. To be surrounded by love. They had not tried to fix her after the trauma of her first six years. They had not tried to repair the break in her heart from the loss of her twin brother. They had not tried to get her to relive the pain of living with a paranoid schizophrenic intent on killing one of her own children. And succeeding when he was six years old.
They had not tried to wipe away the children’s home she’d been sent to, or erase the three foster homes that had come before them. They had simply loved her like their own, before being killed in a motorway pile-up just after her thirteenth birthday.
They had given her love, affection, a sense of worth, security and a love of bikes both old and new.
Working on the Triumph held the power to erase the stresses of the day. If her hand was holding a screwdriver, ratchet or spanner she was focussed on putting together the jigsaw of parts. Except she wasn’t sure that tonight it was going to unwind her.
Her brain wanted to chew over the events of the day. It wanted to work through all the data.
From the second she’d arrived at the horrific crime scene she had been intrigued as to what this man had done to deserve such hatred and they had found out nothing. Sure, the lady at the Chinese takeaway wasn’t over keen, but stiffing them on a bill and being rude wasn’t usually motivation for beheading and genital mutilation.
Only at the last second had they found the second computer, and whatever was on there was going to tell them something on the man himself.
Roy had arranged to have it sent straight into the lab but she was guessing no work would begin on it until tomorrow. Once she had the second case from Wolverhampton they could start looking for links between the two of them. If she had her way, she’d be heading towards Wolverhampton right now to demand the case files, but she did understand that processes had to be followed. And she wasn’t all that popular at the Wolves station anyway.
Her thoughts turned to her team.
There was something instantly likeable about DS Bryant. His height and demeanour screamed solid and dependable. There was a calm friendliness about him which put people at ease. An asset she would probably use exhaustively for the duration of this case, to compensate for her own shortcomings in the personable department.
Stacey Wood was keen and constantly smiling. Kim wondered how long it would be until that stopped. Soon, she hoped, because the woman was trying to please too much, even in the face of a corker of a first case. The crime scene had winded her but she’d chosen to come back. Kim liked that she had spent most of the day working alone without complaining while her colleague was shirking, and Kim respected that, but she had no intention of allowing it to continue. But the real passion, the moments when the false, appeasing smile had dropped from her face had been when she’d been busy at the computer.
And DS Dawson. Where did she even start? She’d met many Dawsons during her career. He was ambitious and not necessarily for the right reasons. Dawson wanted attention; he wanted reactions. He wanted to rebel against his new boss. She got it but she wasn’t going to take it.
All she had right now were opinions, observations of her team based on one day of work.
It wasn’t enough.
She switched on her laptop to find out more.
For tonight the Triumph would have to wait.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kim was ready and waiting as the team filed into the squad room.
She was unsurprised to see Dawson trail in last. A quick appraisal told her he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, but he at least appeared clean and had shaved. The stench of a brewery hadn’t followed him in today, which was surely an improvement from the day before.
To her eye he appeared more subdued. His eyes met hers expectantly.
Oh, it appeared he was still awaiting her reaction from yesterday.
She pointed to the brand-new coffee pot she’d picked up from the 24-hour superstore on her way in.
‘The pot is full. If you want to drink anything else, bring it yourself and if you pour the last cup, make a fresh pot.’
They all nodded.
‘Okay, to recap, our victim is twenty-nine years old, worked as a storeman at Wainwrights, enjoyed Chinese takeaway, had a child’s bed and hoody in his home and hides his computer away. So, where do we go now?’
