Silent Scream: An edge of your seat serial killer thriller Book 1

  ‘No, it’s fine. Today I could live without it.’

  Kim noted that the doctor was more sullen than usual. His shoulders were slightly hunched as he sealed the plastic bag containing the skull. White strips of tape bearing black marker pen listed the site and the bone within.

  His assistant reached for the lid to the storage box but Daniel shook his head. ‘Not yet.’

  Kim was confused. She’d seen bodies packed before with the heaviest bones at the bottom of the box and ascending so that the lighter, more fragile bones lay at the top.

  Normally the skull was the last item to be packed.

  She stood beside him as he reached for a container the size of a sandwich box, already lined with tissue paper. A collection of small bones was piled to the far right of the table. His hand trembled slightly.

  ‘Adult or non-adult?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Definitely non-adult. I can’t give you any idea of how she died at the moment. On first inspection there are no obvious areas of trauma to her body.’

  His voice was quiet and controlled.

  Kim was momentarily confused. ‘Hang on, Doc. Because our first victim was juvenile I couldn’t threaten you into sexing it but all of a sudden you’re referring to this one as a female before you’ve even taken the bones back to the lab?’

  He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. ‘That’s right. I have no hesitation in sexing victim number two, Detective.’ He looked back at the sandwich box.

  ‘Because this young lady was pregnant.’

  Forty-Four

  ‘What a bloody day,’ Bryant said, parking the car at the rear of the station. They were the first words spoken since leaving the site. ‘Dawson was pretty quiet up there.’

  ‘Are you surprised?’

  Dawson had been unable to take his eyes from the small container until the bones were loaded into the larger box, beside the bones of the mother.

  ‘Get off home, Bryant. I’ll go see Woody and then I’ll be heading home myself.’

  It was just after seven and they were entering the thirteenth hour of the sixth working day. Bryant would keep at it right beside her. But he had a family. She did not.

  Her last burst of energy was used as she mounted the steps to the third floor. She knocked and waited.

  As Woody called for her to enter she marvelled at the level of controlled rage that could be contained in two syllables.

  The stress ball was already in his hand when she took a seat.

  ‘You wanted to see me, Sir?’

  ‘Three hours ago, when I called, would have been more appropriate,’ he growled.

  Kim looked to his right hand and swore she could hear the stress ball crying out for mercy.

  ‘There were developments at the site that required ...’

  ‘Stone, you were involved in a traumatic incident.’

  ‘Bryant’s driving isn’t that bad,’ she quipped weakly. It had been a long day.

  ‘Shut up. You’re fully aware of the procedure and the need for your return to the station for a debrief and a welfare check.’

  ‘I was fine, ask Bryant ...’

  ‘You’ll excuse me if I choose not to waste my time with that.’ He sat back and switched the stress ball to the left hand. Damn, she wasn’t out of the woods yet.

  ‘I have an obligation, a duty of care, which you make damn near impossible for me to exercise. You have to be offered support and counselling.’

  Kim rolled her eyes. ‘When I need someone to tell me how I should be feeling I’ll be sure to let you know.’

  ‘That you don’t feel anything may well be the problem, Stone.’

  ‘It’s not a problem for me, Sir.’

  He leaned forward, his eyes boring into her. ‘Not right at this moment but eventually all the negativity will affect you and your ability to function.’

  Kim doubted that. It was the way she always handled things. The bad things were packed away in boxes and sealed shut. The key was in never opening the boxes and her only question was why more people didn’t do that.

  The old adage stated that time healed everything. And she had mastered the art of manipulating time. In real time she had failed to save the life of Arthur Connop only seven hours earlier but the activity crammed into those intervening hours distanced the memory. In her mind, the incident could have happened last week. Therefore, the event was much further back in her past than Woody believed.

  ‘Sir, thank you for your concern but I really am fine. I accept that I can’t save everyone and I don’t beat myself up when people die.’

  Woody held up his hand. ‘Stone, enough. My decision is made. Once this case is over you will seek counselling or you will face suspension.’

  ‘But ...’

  He shook his head. ‘If not, the bad inside will destroy you.’

  What she held inside was of no concern to her. It was locked up and contained. Her only fear was in letting it out. To release it would most certainly signal her destruction.

  She sighed heavily. That was a fight for another day.

  ‘There will be no further discussion on the matter but before you go, there’s something else.’

  Fabulous, she thought.

  ‘I’ve received a call from the superintendent who has received a call from the chief superintendent who both want you removed from this case.’ He sat back. ‘So, tell me who the hell you pissed off today.’

  There was no point lying to him. Clearly someone’s feathers had been well and truly ruffled.

  ‘Sir, I could give you a list but it wouldn’t be exhaustive. However, the only person I’m aware of having angered that badly would be Richard Croft but I can’t imagine he has that kind of influence.’

  There was a brief pause as their eyes met. ‘His wife,’ they said, together.

  ‘What did you say to him?’

  She shrugged. ‘Many things,’ she answered, thinking Croft’s wife must love him very much after all.

  ‘Witness or suspect?’

  She pulled a face. ‘Bit of both.’

  ‘Dammit, Stone. When will you learn that there is an element of politics when policing at this level?’

  ‘No, Sir, there is an element of politics in policing at your level. Mine is still about uncovering the truth.’

  Woody glowered at her. Kim hadn’t quite meant it the way it had sounded. She relied on the fact that he would know that and chose not to open her mouth to change feet.

  She stuck out her chin. ‘So, are you gonna follow instructions and remove me?’

  ‘Stone, I do not need goading from you to make use of a perfectly healthy spine. They have already been advised that you will continue to head the case.’

  Kim smiled. She should have known.

  ‘The councillor clearly has something to hide or he wouldn’t have set his guard dog loose.’

  For the first time in days, he offered her the promise of a smile. ‘So, I guess I’d better unchain mine.’

  ‘Yes, Sir,’ Kim said, with a smile.

  Forty-Five

  Kim looked from Bryant to Stacey. ‘Okay, new day. Dawson will be going straight to the site and he’ll call when there’s more to report.

  ‘So, to recap. Of the six staff members identified, only two remain; Richard Croft and William Payne. Richard Croft doesn’t like me very much so I don’t think we’ll be getting much more from him. But he’s hiding something.’

  ‘Guv, two of the objections to the professor’s project were filed by the law firm Travis, Dunne and Cohen.’

  ‘Croft’s wife?’

  Stacey nodded. ‘She works under her maiden name of Cohen.’

  ‘So, whatever he’s hiding, she knows about.’

  ‘Worth a visit to her office, Guv?’ Bryant asked.

  Kim shook her head. ‘She’s already tried to remove me from the case and I’m not giving her any further ammunition.’ She shrugged. ‘We're not gonna get any help from her. Whatever Croft’s hiding, his wife is party to it and wil
l block us at every turn.’

  ‘How far do yer think she'd go?’ Stacey asked.

  ‘Depends on the level of potential damage,’ Kim answered, recalling the gated house, the cars, not to mention the career.

  Kim stood at the board that had been divided into two. The first half had been further quartered. The details of Teresa Wyatt and Tom Curtis occupied the top two segments. The bottom quarters were occupied by Mary Andrews and Arthur Connop.

  ‘Anything back from forensics on Arthur?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Broken glass from a passenger-side headlight and some particles of white paint embedded in his trouser leg. They’re trying to match it now.’

  Kim stared hard at the left hand side of the board. Despite her inability to prove the murder of Mary Andrews and Arthur Connop, she knew their deaths were linked to something sinister that occurred ten years earlier.

  What did you do? she silently asked all of them.

  The opposite side of the board was currently divided into two, representing the buried victims so far removed. Kim knew the board would be divided again before the end of the day.

  Three names were printed to the side.

  Melanie Harris

  Tracy Morgan

  Louise Dunston

  ‘How's the identification going?’ Stacey asked, following Kim’s gaze.

  Kim didn’t turn. ‘Apparently these three were a close little group. I’m hoping Doctor Bate can offer us more clues to identify which girl is which.’

  ‘Do yer think there's more than three, Guv?’ Stacey asked.

  Kim shook her head. There was a reason why a particular group had been targeted.

  ‘Can you find out more about these three on Facebook without being detected?’

  ‘Oh yeah. When I asked if anyone remembered me, one girl asked if I was that shy little black girl with thick glasses and a stutter. And I said yes.’

  Kim rolled her eyes. ‘What did you find out about the minister?’

  ‘The only minister I could find with any link to Crestwood was Victor Wilks, the guy who did some charity work. His name's come up in a few posts. The girls all refer to him fondly as “Father”. He used to visit the place once a month to give a short service for the girls.’

  ‘Background?’

  ‘Hard to know. So far, I’ve got him spending a few years in Bristol, a couple in Coventry and a year in Manchester. I've thrown out some emails to see if I can get a bite.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘Dudley.’

  ‘Since when?’

  Stacey tapped the keyboard. ‘Two years ago.’

  ‘Got an address?’

  Stacey passed Kim a piece of paper as Bryant replaced the receiver.

  ‘Guv, that was the front desk. You have a visitor.’

  Kim frowned. She was too busy to drop everything for a walk-in.

  ‘Call them back and ...’

  ‘This one ain’t shifting, Guv. Your visitor is Bethany Adamson and she is mighty pissed off.’

  Forty-Six

  ‘May I help you?’ Kim asked, at the front desk.

  The woman turned and Kim was immediately taken aback. Not by how much the woman resembled Nicola; they were identical twins. The surprise was in how little alike they looked.

  The woman didn’t offer her hand. ‘My name is Bethany Adamson and I wanna talk to you.’

  Kim stepped back into the corridor and motioned for Bethany Adamson to follow.

  A regular kerthunk sounded behind her as she headed for interview room two. Kim hit the key code and held the door open. The woman stepped right past her, using a walking stick in her right hand.

  Kim noted that Bethany’s boots were flat and functional and rose up to her knees. Beneath were black jeans that hung loose from the knees to the thighs. A bulky winter jacket swamped the slender frame that appeared more frail than that of her sister.

  ‘I don’t have much time, Miss Adamson.’

  ‘What I got to say won't take very long, Detective.’

  Kim was surprised by the broadness of the Black Country accent.

  Kim nodded for her to continue while she appraised the woman’s appearance. Had she not known she would have thought that Bethany was the sister of Nicola, albeit much older.

  The blonde hair was tied back tightly in a ponytail, with roots that were unwashed and greasy. The face, although identical in structure, appeared thinner, harsher than that of her sister.

  The apportionment of vitality and charisma had definitely not been divided in the favour of this twin.

  Kim noted that the woman seemed to be resting her entire weight on the walking aid. Kim motioned towards the chair but Bethany shook her head.

  Kim remained standing also. They faced each other across the metal interview table.

  ‘Yer spoke to me sister yesterday.’

  Kim was shocked at the harshness she saw in the woman’s face. Her lips were thin and a frown brought her eyebrows closer together.

  Kim nodded. ‘Both of your names came up during a current investigation.’

  ‘There's nothing we got to tell yer.’

  Kim was intrigued. ‘How would you know that?’

  Bethany Adamson sought Kim’s gaze and their eyes locked. The portals were cold and emotionless. Not even angry or passionate. Just dead and unyielding. If the sum of the face was formed of its individual features, then this woman had never experienced a moment of joy in her life.

  ‘I just know.’

  Kim crossed her arms. ‘Your sister was a little more accommodating.’

  ‘Well, she don't understand, does she?’

  ‘Understand what?’

  Beth sighed heavily. ‘Our early years was hard. We was born to a crack whore who checked us in and out of care like library books. As we gor older our chances for any kind of life disappeared ‘cos we weren't wanted. All we ‘ad was each other.’

  ‘I understand that, Miss Adamson, but ...’

  ‘Our years at Crestwood weren't the happiest times and yer can't possibly understand how it feels to be born to a mother that wants yer only for the child allowance.’

  The woman’s gaze had Kim and wouldn’t let her go.

  ‘Our childhood didn't ‘ave any love or stability and we don't wanna keep remembering it. Neither of us.’

  Kim understood more than she would ever care to admit. Despite the woman’s demeanour, Kim had the urge to try and reach out. She understood where the defensiveness came from, but she had bodies both old and new piling up around her.

  ‘What went on at that place, Beth?’ she asked, quietly.

  ‘It's Miss Adamson if yer don't mind, and that's for you to find out, Detective, but don't involve me or me sister. It won't be good for either of us.’

  ‘Not even if it would help catch a killer?’

  No emotion registered on the dead face. ‘Not even that. Me sister's too polite to ask but I ain't. So leave us alone.’

  ‘If this investigation dictates that I need to speak with either of you again ...’

  ‘I really wouldn't if I was you. If yer don't leave us be, I promise yer will be sorry.’

  With surprising speed Bethany Adamson travelled the distance to the door. She was gone before Kim realised she’d just been threatened.

  Rather than warning her off, the woman’s words had induced the polar opposite.

  Now another question burned within Kim.

  Nicola and Beth had experienced the exact same childhood but were like opposing seasons of the year. So, what the hell had happened to make Bethany Adamson such a hostile, hateful individual?

  Forty-Seven

  The Hollytree housing estate lay between Brierley Hill and Wordsley. The entire council development, constructed in the early Seventies, covered a two-mile area and was now home to at least three registered sex offenders.

  On entering, Kim was always reminded of Dante’s circles of hell. The outer layer was formed of grey prefab houses with windows that were either b
roken, boarded or barred. Fences separating properties were long gone. The gardens of empty houses had been used as opportune rubbish dumps for the good of the local community. Old cars with mismatched panels littered the road.

  The inner layer was formed of maisonettes with twelve dwellings per block. Each external wall was a competition in sprayed-on vulgarity and offered more detail on the birds and the bees than the school curriculum. It was a battle the council had fought and lost. Kim didn’t need to leave the car to know the putrid smell of the hallways that dispensed more drugs than Boots.

  At the centre of the estate three high-rise buildings towered over the rest of the estate, keeping watch. Although refuted by the council, these were the homes of families evicted from other council estates in the area. A trail of years served at Her Majesty’s Pleasure would have led back to the Ice Age.

  ‘You know, Guv, if it’s true that Tolkien named the dark lands of Mordor after the Black Country, he was surely looking this way.’

  Kim didn’t disagree. It was the land that hope forgot. She knew ‒ because Hollytree had been home for the first six years of her life.

  Bryant parked in front of a row of buildings that had once been shops serving the community. The last one to close had been the newsagents at the end after being robbed at knifepoint by two twelve-year-old boys.

  The centre building, which previously operated as a chip shop, was opened one morning each week as a drop-in centre.

  A group of seven girls in their mid-teens hung around the entrance. They filled the doorway with both their bodies and their attitude. Bryant looked at her and Kim smiled in response.

  ‘Don’t hurt ‘em too hard, eh, Guv?’

  ‘Course not.’

  Bryant held back as Kim stood before the ringleader. Her hair was three different hues of purple and the fresh unlined skin of her face was mottled by metal.

  She held out her right hand. ‘Entrance fee.’

  Kim met her gaze, fighting to contain the smile. ‘How much?’

  ‘Hundred?’

  Kim shook her head. ‘Nah, too much. There’s a recession you know.’