‘It’s not there.’
‘I’ve got it,’ Keats said, quietly.
Daniel moved along the work area and looked at where Keats had laid his index finger.
Daniel nodded slowly.
‘What?’ Kim asked.
Keats turned to her, unable to speak. Kim was instantly unnerved. This man had seen bodies in the worst state of decay. He had taken in his stride horrendous crime scenes, decomposition and its subsequent life forms. She had watched him carry out a preliminary examination on a corpse while referring to a community of maggots as ‘little fellas’. What the hell could instil such horror in him now?
‘Look here,’ Daniel instructed, pointing to the pubic bone.
Kim could see there was a crack that ran through the centre of the bone.
She raised her head. ‘The pelvis is broken?’
‘Look closer.’
Kim leaned down as far as she could and saw the nicks in the edge of the bone. She counted seven in total. The one at the centre was deeper than the others. A zig-zag pattern was evident on both sides of the parted bone. Kim saw that the serration travelled for almost an inch before it met the longer crack in the bone.
Kim stepped back in horror as she looked from Daniel to Keats and back again unable to comprehend what was right in front of her eyes.
‘Yes, Detective,’ Keats offered hoarsely. ‘The bastard tried to saw her in half.’
Silence settled between them as they all stared down at the skeleton that had once been a young girl. Not an angel and not without fault, but a young girl nonetheless.
Kim stepped to the side and almost fell into Daniel.
His arms steadied her. ‘You okay?’
She nodded as she moved away from his touch. She didn’t trust herself to speak until the nausea had passed.
The sound of her mobile ringing startled them all. It galvanised the room into action as though the pause button had been depressed. It was Bryant and he was calling from somewhere in the building.
Her mouth was dry as she answered the call.
‘Guv, I’m wasting my time here.’
‘Is he still in surgery?’ she asked, looking at her watch. If that was the case it wasn’t looking good for Richard Croft.
‘No, he was wheeled back to the ward an hour ago. The knife is out and I have that bagged. He’s in and out of consciousness but Mrs Croft won’t let me anywhere near him.’
‘On my way,’ she said, ending the call.
‘Where are you going now?’ Keats asked.
She glanced down at body number three and took a deep breath. ‘I’m going to start a fight.’
Sixty-One
I sensed that Louise was on to me. She was unlike the other two. Melanie had been shy and needy; desperate for affection and validation. Tracy had been streetwise and sensual but Louise had a mean streak that ran through her like lead.
Louise wasn't like the other two. She hadn't been abused, abandoned or neglected. She just didn't like the new rules that came with a stepfather and a new baby.
Louise liked to be in charge, I saw that from the first day when she decided which bed she would take. The girl who had the bed already dared to say no and got a fractured wrist for her trouble.
It wasn't hard to believe the level of violence she'd inflicted on her seven-month-old brother that had led to her being removed from the home.
Unlike Tracy, Louise had no balance. She was just harsh. There was no sexuality, no humour and I couldn't stand the sight of her.
No one messed with Louise. There was a rage inside her that just ached to be freed. It bubbled amongst the hurt and resentment.
But I knew something about her that no one else did.
Louise was mean, and she was violent. And she also wet the bed.
Assisted by a vibrating wristwatch, at four a.m. Louise would leave her warm bed and head for the toilet. She would not return until her bladder was empty.
‘Hello, Louise,’ I said, one night as she exited the washroom.
‘What do you want?’ she asked, covering her mouth.
‘I think we should have a little chat. You seem unsettled lately.’
‘D’ya think?’ she asked, placing her hand on her hip. ‘My mates are dropping like flies.’
I shrugged. ‘Clearly they don't like you enough to hang around.’
Her face seemed to gather in the middle as her lips pursed and her eyes narrowed. ‘Yeah, and maybe they got no say in it.’
Oh, full points for me. It took a psychopath to know one.
There was no reason to play games with Louise. Her fate was assured. But I took the time to have a little fun.
‘How so?’ I asked.
‘I know you've got something to do with it. You pretend to be all nice to us but there's something not right with you.’
I silently congratulated Louise on her perceptiveness.
‘You don't really have room to talk. Who would purposely hurt their baby brother? There's a nastiness in you and it drives everyone away. I bet your mates left because they couldn't stand you any longer. Even your own family hate you now.’
She thrust her chin forward. ‘I couldn't give a shit.’
‘Then why do you still wet the bed?’
She lunged towards me, her closed fist en route to my face, but I was ready. I grabbed her wrist and turned her body so that she fell backwards against me. My forearm was clamped against her throat. She thrashed her head from side to side but I wedged my chin on top of her head. My left hand covered her mouth as she tried to scream.
I walked her forward as she tried to bite at my fingers. Her arms flailed but caused me no harm.
Her efforts to live became weaker as I walked her outside. I placed my right hand on her shoulder and tightened the hold.
I shook the last breath of life out of her like a doll. I felt the end of her existence as her body collapsed against me as though someone had sucked out the bones.
I raised my right hand from her shoulder to her neck just to make sure.
The skin was silent against my fingerprint.
I threw her over my shoulder and carried her outside to the waiting hole.
Unlike the other two, I felt nothing for the flesh that I dropped to the ground. Melanie's neediness had made me feel sick. Her obsequious face had made my skin crawl.
Tracy had inspired desire in me. It was her own greed that had led to her end.
But with Louise there was nothing. She was a means to an end.
She was insurance.
The manner of her death would be misdirection.
So I opened her legs and reached for the saw.
Sixty-Two
Kim walked the corridors of Russells Hall hospital for the second time in as many days. Because it was outside of visiting hours, she announced herself as a police officer at the intercom.
The first priority of the medical personnel was the care of their patients but they tried to be accommodating to police officers.
Kim walked past the small waiting room at the top of the ward. Bryant stood when he saw her. She motioned for him to sit back down.
She paused at the nurse’s station. ‘Richard Croft?’
The female in dark blue was short and round. An elasticated belt searched halfway down the uniform for a waist and failed miserably.
‘Detective, I don’t think he’s quite ready for your questions.’
Kim nodded her understanding but wanted some of her own. She leaned forward and spoke quietly. ‘Sister, this week I have more than six bodies behind me and they all need answers. Richard Croft was very nearly number seven and may be able to help.’
The frown on the woman deepened.
Kim held up her hand. ‘I assure you I will not do anything to upset his condition.’
That was no lie, because Kim had no intention of doing anything at all.
The sister nodded towards the third open doorway off the main ward. ‘Just a few minutes, okay?’
Kim nodded her understanding and moved quietly along the corridor,
Kim stood in the doorway and looked not at the inert form in the bed but at the figure of his wife in the easy chair, currently engrossed in the contents of her mobile phone.
As Kim leaned against the doorframe, the head of shiny black hair raised. Nina
Croft’s fixed expression was politely tolerant. Clearly the look she reserved for the staff. When her eyes rested on Kim, any remnant of tolerance or politeness fell away.
Kim was momentarily surprised at how such an attractive face could be affected by the venom within. Suddenly, the beauty faded and was replaced by narrowed eyes and a thin, mean mouth.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘Mrs Croft, your husband needs to be questioned.’
‘Not now, Detective Stone, and most definitely not by you.’
Nina Croft stood. Just as Kim had hoped.
Richard Croft moaned from the bed. Kim took a step towards him and Nina instantly blocked her path.
‘Get out,’ she spat.
Kim tried to walk around her but Nina grabbed her roughly on the arm and pulled her towards the door. Had she not been a serving police officer Kim would have smacked the woman in the mouth. Sometimes the sacrifice was just not worth it.
‘Get out of this room and away from my husband right now.’
Nina marched her to the front door of the ward. As they passed the waiting room Kim glanced in and caught Bryant’s eye. She nodded backwards to the unguarded room.
Once outside the ward, the woman threw Kim’s arm away from her as though it were covered with leprous scabs.
‘I don’t like your methods, Detective and I don’t like you.’
‘Trust me when I tell you that will not keep me up at night.’
The woman turned away to re-enter the ward.
‘And it’s not really my methods you dislike, is it, Mrs Croft?’
Nina turned and stepped back. Good.
‘You are not a stupid woman. You would have researched me before you made that call to get me removed from the case. Surely it's my success rate you despise.’
Nina stepped closer. ‘No, I despise the fact that you made my husband feel like a suspect, which says to me that you are not equipped to handle this investigation. You are clearly inept ...’
‘Why would you want me removed from this case when you know full well that I will solve it, no matter how long it takes?’
Nina Croft continued to glower at her.
‘Especially when you know your husband to be at risk. Any normal wife would want the killer caught as quickly as possible to remove their loved one from danger.’
‘Be very careful what you say to me, Detective Stone.’
‘What are you frightened of, Mrs Croft? Why are you so terrified that I will get the answers? And what the hell did your husband do back then?’
Nina stepped back and crossed her arms. ‘You will never prove that he did anything untoward.’
‘Interesting that you don’t state he did nothing wrong ‒ only that I will be unable to prove it.’
‘A play on words, Detective.’
‘Your husband knows something about what happened at Crestwood ten years ago and whilst he is managing to hang onto life right now, there are others that have not been so lucky.’
The woman looked unmoved. Kim wasn’t sure when she’d met a woman less lacking in empathy than Nina Croft.
Kim shook her head with disbelief. ‘You have obstructed this investigation at every turn. You tried, unsuccessfully, to have me removed from the case. You used your legal influence to file objections to the dig ...’
Kim’s own words trailed away as the truth dawned. ‘You were the one who killed the professor’s dog! When the legal objections failed you decided to try anything to prevent that dig from taking place. Jesus, what the hell is wrong with you?’
Nina shrugged. ‘Feel free to arrest me for inappropriate use of staples, Detective.’
A movement beyond Nina Croft’s head told her that Bryant had exited the side room.
Kim stepped forward into the woman’s face. ‘You are a ruthless, cold, miserable excuse for a woman. You care nothing for anyone or anything. I think you know exactly what happened back then and the only person you're interested in protecting is yourself.
‘And I promise you this, the day is coming whereby I will visit you again and it will be a very public arrest for obstructing the course of justice.’
Kim paused as Bryant came through the first set of double doors.
‘And now you have a reason to make a genuine complaint. So, please, give it your best shot.’
Bryant came to stand beside her.
‘Get what you wanted?’ she asked.
Bryant nodded and turned to Nina. ‘Your husband is asking for you.’
Nina looked from one to the other, realising she’d been tricked. The colour flooded her face. Nina Croft did not like to lose.
‘You devious little bitch ...’
Kim turned and walked away.
‘Hearts and minds exercise, there, Guv?’
‘BFFs now. What did you get?’
‘Absolutely bugger all.’
Kim stopped walking. ‘Are you joking?’
Bryant shook his head. ‘Nope.’
‘We have a live victim. Our one survivor of a bastard that’s killed at least two people and Croft can give us nothing?’
‘Guv, he can barely get two words out but by a yes and no system I managed to work out that he was standing up, and facing away from the door when the knife was plunged into his back. He fell forward and lost consciousness immediately.’
Kim blew air through her lips. ‘Minutes, Bryant. We must have missed him by bloody minutes. Whoever it was knew they had a small window of opportunity while Marta was out shopping and knew the only way to get in and out undetected.’
It was dark as they stepped out of the hospital building.
‘Look, I’ve already told Kev. Take the day off tomorrow. On Saturday we’ll try and piece everything together. It’s been one hell of a week.’
For once Bryant didn’t argue.
Kim headed around the side of the hospital to where she’d parked the bike. She turned the corner into the darkness.
As she reached for the helmet which was locked to the wheel her phone began to ring.
Sixty-Three
She hit the call button. The battery flashed red.
‘What's up, Stace?’
‘Guv, I've been trawling back through some old posts on Facebook and I've come across something I think yer should know.’
‘Go on.’
‘About eight months ago one of the girls spotted Tom Curtis at Dudley Zoo with his family. She posted on the board commenting on his weight and wondering what they'd all seen in him back then.
‘A few childish jokes followed about him putting his hot dog in someone's bun and crap like that but then they started mentioning our three girls as well.’
Kim closed her eyes against what she knew was coming.
‘It's clear he was having sex with one of 'em, Guv.’
Kim thought about the pregnant fifteen-year-old. ‘Was Tracy mentioned by name?’
‘No, Guv, that's the thing. Tom Curtis was sleeping with Louise.’
Kim shook her head as the rage built within her.
‘You okay, Guv?’
‘I'm fine, Stace. Good work, now get off ...’
Her words trailed away as her phone charge ran out.
She put the phone in her pocket and kicked out at the wall.
‘Damn, damn, damn,’ Kim growled.
The anger that ripped through her veins had nowhere to go. These bastards had been entrusted with the safety of these girls and they had failed them badly. It seemed that every single one of them had found some way to further abuse these kids.
Child abuse was categorised into four main areas; physical abuse, sexual abuse, emotional maltreat
ment and neglect. By Kim’s count, the staff at Crestwood had pretty much scored a strike on all four. The irony lay in the fact that most of the girls at Crestwood had been placed there to remove them from mistreatment.
No girl at Crestwood had been there by choice. She knew from her own experience that homes like this were dumping grounds; a civic amenity, like a landfill site. A place for unwanted and broken individuals where at best, kids were dehumanised and stripped of identity and at worst, they were abused even further.
Kim had seen it herself. Poor treatment became an expectation. And slowly, like a stump being hammered into the soil, your head could only remain above ground for so long.
Kim walked around the bike, trying to expel the heat from her veins. She clenched and unclenched her hands to relieve the building tension.
Each girl had arrived at Crestwood for various reasons, and none of them good.
Melanie had been discarded by her father so easily. Gifted to the state so there was one less mouth at his table. The selection criteria being that she was the less attractive child. How could Melanie not have known that to be the case? How did she reconcile that in her head? Thrown away by the one man who should have cared for her, all because she was ugly.
The child had begged for any scrap of attention, some validation that she was a person worthy of affection. Even trying to buy friendship to find her place. Happy to be the runt of the litter, just as long as the litter accepted her.
That was Melanie's story. But there was not one story. All the children in the system had a story. Kim herself had a story. But hers had not started alone.
A vision of Mikey swam before her eyes. It was not the picture she wanted but it was the one she always got. She stepped back into the darkness of the corner as the emotion thickened her throat.
Three weeks premature, Kim and Mikey had both been born with fragile health. Very soon Kim's health had improved, she had gained weight and her bones had strengthened. Mikey's had not.
Their mother, Patty, had taken them home when they were six weeks old, to a high-rise flat on Hollytree.
Kim's first memory dated back to three days after her fourth birthday and was a vision of her mother holding a pillow tightly over the face of her twin. His short legs had thrashed on the bed as his lungs fought for air. Kim tried to pull her mother away but her grip was firm.