Page 127 of Deadly Cry
‘What’s happening with Sean Fellows?’ Alison asked. ‘Given that there’s no confession from Lena yet about the sexual assault on Gemma.’
‘Both Brierley Hill and the CPS are happy to move forward with the process, taking into account the lack of evidence against Sean Fellows and based on the assurance that Chris will testify against his sister.’
Stacey had been on the phone to Brierley Hill the second that Chris had admitted to the sexual assault of Lesley Skipton, in order to set the wheels in motion to get Sean Fellows released from prison.
Stacey had been right: the man currently inside Featherstone had neither attacked Lesley nor Gemma.
Unfortunately, the paperwork and process did not facilitate an immediate release for Sean, but they were talking days not weeks.
‘Next left,’ Alison said as Kim turned right towards Lutley Mill.
‘Just pull in there,’ she said, pointing to a parking area in front of a small factory that had been converted into apartments.
‘So no more killers to profile, no more bollockings, no more walking around the police station and no more families to visit. Does that mean we’re done?’ Alison asked with a lopsided smile.
Kim genuinely hoped that the woman would give serious thought to returning to active duty, especially after what she’d witnessed today, but it was a decision she would have to make for herself.
‘Yes, Alison, we’re finally done,’ she said as Alison got out of the car.
‘Until the next time,’ Kim shouted out the window before driving away.
One Hundred Seven
Stacey collected herself before she picked up the phone in the Bowl. Her boss had offered her the privacy of her office to make a call that had been especially set up. She had been content for the news to be communicated via the normal channels, but the boss had insisted she make the call herself.
She keyed in the mobile phone number she’d been given. It was answered on the second ring.
‘Hello,’ said a deep voice that did not fit with the person she knew was holding the phone.
‘Nathan?’ she asked, checking that she was speaking with the young prison officer she’d met the other day.
‘Speaking.’
‘It’s Detective Const—’
‘I know. I’ve been waiting for your call. He’s right here and he has no idea.’
Stacey felt a shiver of anticipation run over the bare flesh of her arms as she heard the phone being passed to Sean Fellows.
‘What the fuck is?…’
‘Sean, it’s Stacey Wood,’ she said, straight away. She was sure he was unused to being passed the mobile phone of a prison officer. ‘Remember, I came to speak to you earlier in the week.’
‘Yeah, I remember but this is a bit suss. You got a thing for me or something?’
She laughed. ‘No, Sean, you’re not my type, mate.’
‘Shame,’ he said, and she could imagine the shrug of the shoulders. ‘So what the?…’
‘Remember when you told me you were innocent?’ she asked.
‘Oh yeah, course I do. You gave me the same look as every other c… bugger I’ve told.’
Stacey appreciated his effort in minding his language.
‘Well, turns out you were right.’
Ten second silence.
