Page 62 of Deadly Cry
‘And you haven’t changed either. Still refusing to—’
Kim’s ringing phone cut her off.
Her heart leapt. No caller caused the same emotional response in her as Keats.
‘Keats, you have to be joking,’ Kim said as the whole room fell into silence around her.
‘Come to Uffmoor Wood right now, and it’s not so we can go for a walk.’
Forty-Eight
‘You reckon we’ve got another one?’ Penn asked, breaking the heavy silence in the squad room.
‘Well, I don’t think Keats has invited the boss out for afternoon tea,’ Stacey answered distractedly. Alison had not met her gaze once yet. ‘Hey, Penn, you wanna go get fresh coffee?’ she continued.
‘You don’t drink coffee,’ he said without looking up.
‘Well, fetch me a Diet Coke then.’
‘Bloody hell, Stace, since when did I turn into drinks-boy?’
‘Penn, she wants you to leave the room so she can apologise to me,’ Alison said.
Finally, Penn looked up and glanced from her to the profiler. ‘Oh, okay,’ he said, getting up. ‘Toilet break.’
Stacey took a breath, ‘Look, Alison, I’m really—’
‘You really are a pain in my arse, but there’s nothing to apologise for. I know how persuasive your boss is, and as long as you keep me well fed and away from tall buildings we’re all good.’
‘Like I’d try and keep food away from you,’ Stacey said.
‘But just so you know, Stace, I’m not gonna be your bridesmaid any more.’
Stacey laughed out loud. ‘You never were. I’m not having any.’
‘Well, that’s settled then. We agree.’
Stacey tipped her head. ‘Can you bake me a cake instead?’
‘Hahahahahaha, oh you are so funny. That would be a big fat no.’
Stacey recalled something Alison had told her. ‘Hang on, you said that when you arranged your ex-fiancés birthday party, you baked him a three-tier red velvet cake, his favourite.’
‘You must have misheard me, Stace. I told his mother that I baked it. I wanted her to like me. It didn’t work: she still hated me, but the most I had to do with that cake was collect it from the bakery. Why, what’s up?’
Stacey opened her mouth to explain that all the local bakeries and cake shops had laughed in her face at the short notice request, but then she closed it. Talking about it depressed her even more. At this rate, she’d be heading to the supermarket to pick up a kids’ birthday party cake with Thomas the Tank Engine on the front.
‘Never mind. But you’re sure we’re okay, yeah?’
Alison blew her a raspberry in response.
They were good.
She was sure of it.
Forty-Nine
Uffmoor Wood was a Woodland Trust site spanning over two hundred acres, just one mile south of Halesowen and sitting at the foot of the Clent Hills. Accessed from the A456 along Uffmoor Lane, a car park gave way through a squeeze post and two kissing gates to five miles of paths.
