One hand up and a nod, but the hand had hesitated.
‘Two thousand, two hundred?’
Kim nodded. The hand itched but stayed where it was.
‘You sure?’ Dobbie pressed.
The owner of the hand agonised for a few seconds but shook his head. He looked longingly at the frame before accepting defeat and leaving the area.
‘Looks like it’s mine after all, Dobbie,’ she said, motioning for Bryant to pick up the frame.
Dobbie licked his lips and smiled. ‘I wanted you to have it to be honest.’
‘Ah, bless you, Dobbie, you old sweetheart,’ she said, reaching into her back pocket.
His meaty arm rose, and she slapped the money into his outstretched hand.
‘What’s this?’ he asked as his considerable eyebrows drew together.
‘It’s the three hundred quid we agreed on a month ago, Dobbie. A deal is a deal and we shook on it. Only you would try and swindle a police officer,’ she said as Bryant headed towards the car with her frame.
‘But it sure was an entertaining night out so thanks for inviting me,’ she said, walking away with her first genuine smile of the day.
Now it was time to go speak to Nicola’s agent.
Sixty-Four
I look towards the locked door and curse myself for my foolish actions.
What am I supposed to do now? What the hell was I thinking when I snatched the boy? It’s not as though I wanted him or even had a purpose for him. He was there and in one stupid, impulsive moment I saw triumph. I saw victory. I had exceeded the murder of Katrina. I had not left the child. I had taken the child.
But now what to do with him? He has seen my face. He can identify me.
There is only one choice, I feel, as my palm wraps around the kitchen knife. I am horrified but I cannot let him live now.
With each step that takes me closer to the door, the weight upon my shoulders increases. The grip around my heart tightens, but I can’t allow him to destroy everything.
My free hand closes around the door handle. I take deep breaths and try not to visualise what I have to do. I will count myself down.
Three.
Two.
My phone sounds the receipt of a Google notification. I have only two alerts: one for murder and one for DI Stone. Which one has raised the alarm?
I falter for a second. I must not put off what I have to do. The child cannot live. I take a final deep breath.
Three.
Two.
Murder or DI Stone. Which one?
Damn it. I have to see.
I swap the knife to my other hand and take out my phone. I refuse to put down the blade. That is defeat. I can do this. I must do this. Soon.
The alert is for DI Stone. She has been quoted in an article by a local reporter. Not a national but Tracy Frost from the Dudley Star.