Page 8 of Stolen Ones
She flicked the pages until she was five sheets in and found what she was looking for.
She smiled as a plan began to form in her mind.
Officer Barry Adams always did a cell check at 2.30p.m., which gave her just ten minutes. Plenty of time.
She retrieved the hairbrush from the table that separated the two beds and placed it on her own bed with the thin metal teeth facing up. She rolled her T-shirt up to her breasts and tucked the fabric under her bra, then lay down on the brush using her own body weight to force the teeth against her skin. She moved around every couple of minutes and repeated the process until her abdomen was sore.
She was finished just in time as she heard Officer Adams call something into the next cell.
She put the brush aside as he appeared at her doorway.
‘Everything okay, Thorne?’
‘Actually, no,’ she said, rising from the bed and moving unsteadily towards him.
‘I don’t feel well. I’m hot and light-headed. I’ve got some kind of rash.’
She stood in the doorway, in full view of ten or more inmates.
‘Here,’ she said, lifting up her top.
Officer Adams moved closer to take a look at the dozens of red spots marking her skin. He put a hand at her waist to steady her.
Three. Two. One.
‘Officer Adams, what the hell are you doing?’ she cried out.
Every head turned their way to see her with her T-shirt lifted up and Officer Adams standing way too close to her with his hand on her waist.
His face reddened immediately as he stepped away from her.
She moved out of sight and spoke quietly.
‘I want a smartphone by sixo’clock; otherwise, your attempt to touch me will be a written complaint to Warden Siviter.’
‘B-But I didn’t. I wouldn’t…’
‘Yes, but you’ve already had one report against you. One more and you’re out of a job.’
His face turned thunderous.
A new inmate had accused him of touching her inappropriately during the body search. The complaint had gone nowhere, but a second incident would prompt a thorough investigation. And she had witnesses.
‘Don’t argue, Adams, because you know I’ll do it. A phone by sixo’clock.’
She turned and headed back into her cell.
A shiver of anticipation ran through her.
She would be speaking to DI Stone tonight.
Four
Little Peeps was a day-care centre situated just outside Netherton on the road to Dudley. A short walk from Hillcrest School, it served working parents for a pick-up and drop-off service outside of school hours. Throughout the school holidays it remained open for working parents who didn’t have the luxury of grandparents or a family support network.
Bryant drove slowly through the groups congregating close to the premises. Vehicles were parking haphazardly all over the place as uniformed officers struggled to keep order.
‘It’s bloody bedlam,’ Bryant observed, pulling in behind a hastily parked Citroën. The woman gave a half-apologetic wave before hurrying towards the entrance.
