Page 35 of Deadly Cry
But she could do no more than offer her shoulder or her ear.
‘Just keep doing what you’re doing, Stace. Normal helps.’
He placed his headphones over his ears and focused on the screen. Even if she responded, he wouldn’t hear.
Okay, normal she could do, she thought, turning back to her computer.
Penn had taken over the witness statements from Katrina’s murder, and she’d been tasked with finding background on victim number two: Louise Webb-Harvey.
Despite the events of the day, the sexual assault case was still playing on her mind. After interviewing both witnesses, she knew the only thing she could do to resolve the questions in her mind was to speak to the rapist himself; however, the double murder they were working had to take priority in her normal working hours.
Which was why an appointment to question him at 6 a.m. the next morning had already been made.
Thirty
Charleston Avenue was a cul-de-sac at the edge of the Wollescote conurbation that bordered a strip of green belt. Now classed as a residential area of Stourbridge, it was located two miles east of the town centre and bordered with Halesowen. The area had been predominantly rural until the 1920s when it was developed as a dense residential area of private and council-owned dwellings. It wasn’t known as a high-crime area and residents lived in reasonable harmony.
Within the avenue itself, Kim counted five sets of Mucklow-style semi-detached properties with garages attached to the side of the house. Each property was separated from its twin by a waist-high wooden fence that ran down the middle of a shared lawn. The houses were identical with double driveways in front of the garage. From memory, houses around here went for around a quarter of a million, and if there was a picture in the dictionary to describe middle-class suburbia this would have been it. A place where both parents went out to work and nothing out of the ordinary ever happened.
Until now, Kim thought as Bryant pulled up outside the houses smack bang in the middle of the curve.
A newish Toyota Corolla sat on the drive awaiting the arrival of a second car.
‘Guv, you want me to?…’
‘No,’ she said, refusing his offer of breaking the news. Whoever was on the other side of that front door was not going to care from whose mouth the devastating news came. It’s not what they’d remember for the rest of their lives.
She took a deep breath and knocked.
‘Have you forgotten your?…’ a female voice said as the door began to open. The tolerant smile died on the woman’s face as she realised they were not who she was expecting.
Kim held up her identification.
‘Is this the home of Louise Webb-Harvey?’
The woman nodded, looking from her to Bryant.
‘Yes, she’s my wife but she’s not here right—’
‘May we come in?…’
‘Robyn,’ she said, offering her name and standing aside.
Kim passed the stairs leading out of the hallway and headed into a light and airy kitchen formed of shiny white units and an island in the middle. A saucepan simmered on the hob and the smell of a freshly made pot of coffee mingled with the aroma of some kind of bolognaise. A half-drunk glass of wine stood beside the chopping board, an empty glass beside the bottle. Everything in this kitchen was waiting for someone to come home.
‘Please, take a seat, Ms Webb-Harvey.’
‘Robyn, and please don’t tell me to sit down in my own home. Has something happened?’
Kim took a seat at the dining table, hoping the woman would follow her lead.
She didn’t and leaned against the island instead. She crossed her arms and Kim could see her hands grabbing the bare flesh of her upper arms.
‘Robyn, I’m afraid we have some bad news about Louise. There’s been an incident.’
Robyn looked around the room and reached for her handbag. ‘Where is she? I’ll go to her.’
Kim remained seated and shook her head.
