Page 114 of Deadly Cry
Maybe his gut was guiding him wrong this time. He remembered what Lynne had said to him recently. He sometimes didn’t see the things that were right in front of him.
‘Okay, Stace, let’s swap. You take upstairs and I’ll do down here. Second sweep with fresh eyes.’
Stacey nodded her agreement.
With another murder imminent and a six-year-old boy still missing, they had to try and find something.
Ninety-Six
‘I’m not kidding, boss,’ Bryant said as they got in the car, ‘there was not one thing—’
‘I know. I believe you. I don’t think Andrew has hurt anyone. He’s the wrong sibling. If Ella is in some kind of twisted competition, it wouldn’t be with Andrew. He didn’t usurp her position; it would be with Steven, the next sibling born.’
‘Who also happens to be a sales manager for expensive holiday homes,’ Bryant noted as Kim took out her phone. Andrew had been kind enough to offer them his older brother’s phone number.
‘Straight to voicemail,’ she said as a low, deep voice kicked in. She ended the call.
‘Want me to head towards his?—’
‘No,’ Kim said, tapping the phone on her knee. Andrew had told them Steven lived on the outskirts of Bridgnorth. ‘Driving round trying to find siblings isn’t going to help us right now.’
‘But, guv, we might be on to something. We have to—’
‘I know, Bryant,’ she snapped. She too could feel the sand slipping through her fingers. They were running out of time. The response to the murder of Nicola Southall was imminent.
‘Maybe we have to stop focusing on the players and concentrate on the game,’ Kim said, picturing the wipe board back in the squad room.
‘Go on,’ Bryant said, switching off the engine and turning her way.
‘The crimes themselves come in pairs. The assault, the rape, the murder, they’re all pairs. Nicola Southall was the first of the pairing. How is our second killer going to respond? How are they going to match the challenge and in their own way surpass it?’
‘Another ex-soap star?’ Bryant asked.
‘Perhaps, but tracking one down and…’ Her words trailed away as the thoughts came thick and fast. ‘Not even a soap star, Bryant, but someone in the public eye. Maybe some other kind of celebrity?’
Their eyes met as he appeared to catch up with her.
‘Tyra Brooks, the footballer’s mistress.’
Kim checked her watch. ‘Who is due to arrive at the shopping centre in ten minutes’ time.’
Bryant wasted not one minute in starting the engine and pulling away from the kerb.
Ninety-Seven
I can only take so much.
There are so many parts of my body that hurt so bad, but no one listens.
I’m telling tales. I’m exaggerating. I’m clumsy. I’m hurting myself. I’m a baby, but I’m not any of these things. Really, I’m not. Honest.
I watch as the latest red welts turn to purple bruises and the lines of scratches gurgle with little bubbles of blood that harden and rise up from the skin.
Every time it happens I hope it will be the last time. I pray that boredom will set in or another interest, fascination will come along. Sometimes I pray for death even though I don’t know what it is. Death happened to Nanna Helen and I was told that I would never see her again, that it was final, so maybe death needs to happen to make it stop.
I wait for a long time but nothing changes.
I am scared, but I make a plan.
