Page 10 of Killing Mind
He was acutely aware that his wife had barely looked at him since that detective had told them the news. Something in him wanted to release all the pent-up emotion, the grief, the anger, the injustice, even the hurt, but he wouldn’t, couldn’t. He knew his wife was no more entitled to her feelings than he was but he would accept her accusatory silence. He would prepare himself for the rage when it came. He would ready himself for the uncontrollable tears once her brain allowed the truth to seep in, but what he couldn’t do was allow himself to fall apart. He couldn’t allow the grief to swallow him whole. There was still much to be done. And their actions going forward now were even more important than ever.
He entered the main reception of the hospital, strode past the desk and out of sight of the car, even though he knew she wouldn’t be watching.
He looked for a semi-private spot along the corridor as he had a sudden thought.
Samantha had been at the core of pretty much every conversation the two of them had had over the last three years. She was gone leaving a void that could never be filled.
He took a deep breath and took out his phone; his real reason for leaving his wife in the car.
He scrolled to the contact he wanted in his list, turning into the wall. As expected the voicemail kicked in. He waited, took another breath.
‘Sammy’s dead,’ he said, and then ended the call.
Ten
‘Samantha Brown,’ Stacey said, looking at her screen. ‘Twenty-one years old, born to Myles and Kate Brown in July of ’ninety-nine Made the school gymnastics team and then later netball, left school five years ago and attended Dudley College, studying graphic design. Appears to have had a great social life, lots of friends but no serious boyfriend, so pretty much studying and partying at the same time.’
‘Normal college life, then?’ Penn acknowledged.
Kim half listened as she pressed refresh on her emails. Keats had questioned her request for the photographs taken at the scene and after, and she’d assured him she just wanted them for her report. He had agreed to send them. She had ended the call as quickly as she could to avoid further questioning from the astute pathologist. And if she knew him as well as she thought, he’d be poring over those same photos himself right now wondering if they’d made a mistake.
‘Samantha was active on just about every social platform I can find but seemed to especially favour Instagram right up until…’
‘Hang on, Stace,’ Kim interrupted, as the email from Keats came through.
She began scrolling through the ten pictures she’d been sent, looking for anything that appeared to be out of place or suspicious. Something she could take to the boss.
Right now, she had nothing more than what looked like a gifted candle, lack of ceremony or planning, the possibility that someone else could have been in the flat and her own suspicious nature, and the boss had already shut her down based on these things. She needed something to convince him to let her investigate Samantha’s death properly.
She swiped along the photos:
The position.
The knife.
The blood.
The hand.
Damn it, there was nothing there that wasn’t still present in her memory.
She began to scroll again. ‘Sorry, Stace, carry on.’
‘I was only going to say that everything about Samantha’s online presence is exactly what you’d expect to see. All pretty normal, as Penn said, except for one thing.’
‘Which is?’ Kim asked, as her phone pulled up the last picture of the collection: the hand.
‘It’s all there, but it all ended three years ago and she hasn’t posted another thing since.’
Kim looked up. ‘Three years?’
Stacey nodded.
Unusual but it wasn’t going to get Woody to change his mind.
‘Okay, Stace, good work but I’m gonna need…’ She stopped speaking as her gaze returned back to the photo of the hand. Something struck her and it was like she was seeing it for the first time.
She turned the phone and looked at the photo from every angle.
