Evil Games Page 12

  And she could if she chose to, but as she looked at her watch, she saw that she really didn’t have the time.

  ‘What are you doing to your arms, Alex?’

  Damn, she’d taken her eyes off him for one second to glance at her watch.

  He looked from her face to her reddened, scratched arms. Realisation began to dawn in his eyes.

  A knock sounded at the door. Alex had been prepared for that. The personal attack alarm beside her desk had been pressed once before and it had worked perfectly. Shane jumped to his feet and headed towards the door that led into the hallway.

  ‘It’s okay, Shane. Just ignore it, they’ll go away.’

  She knew full well that they wouldn’t.

  Shane looked panicked. His gaze glued to her right arm.

  Alex stood and positioned herself away from the door. ‘It’s okay, they’ll …’

  The sound of her front door crashing in cut off her words.

  Shane looked towards her, stunned and frightened. She ripped at her blouse, revealing her breasts. She shook her head to mess up her hair and pinched a red mark onto her cheek.

  Two male police officers entered the room swiftly and took in the scene.

  ‘He … he … tried to rape me,’ she cried before her legs gave way. She fell against the wall. The taller officer reached out to steady her.

  Shane’s gaze was darting between all three of them, no clue what had occurred. He really was pathetic. So easily fooled into believing she had any interest in helping him. He would never possess the skills to beat her.

  ‘I didn’t … I swear … I didn’t …’

  The tall officer was inspecting the damage to her arms. ‘Cuff him,’ he said, guiding her to a seat. Shane’s eyes were fixed on her, his expression a picture of confusion.

  Alex offered him a triumphant smile.

  The realisation that he was headed straight back to prison registered on his face. He bucked against the handcuffs.

  ‘No, please, I can’t … you don’t understand … please … I can’t go back …’

  Any type of violence from Shane after the crime he’d committed would unquestionably revoke his parole and she needed to know that this particular subject would never bother her again.

  ‘Tell them, Alex,’ he cried as the tears coursed over his cheeks. ‘Tell them I didn’t hurt you. Please, tell them I can’t go back.’

  Alex rubbed at her forearms and looked away.

  ‘Goodbye, Shane,’ she whispered as the tall police officer led Shane to the car.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  As Kim shut the car door, she still wasn’t sure why she’d come to this place. All she knew was that a face filled with uncertainty kept swimming before her eyes.

  She walked through the double doors and stopped at a reception desk. A young girl with a shock of pink hair greeted her with a smile.

  ‘May I help?’

  Kim was unsure how to respond. ‘I’ll just take a look.’

  The girl nodded and pointed to another set of double doors. Kim headed through and her senses were assaulted. The smell was a mixture of disinfectant, dog food and faeces. A cacophony of barking erupted at the sound of a bell when she’d pushed the doors open.

  The first cubicle held two Staffordshire bull terrier puppies; small, compact and solid. Kim didn’t stop. She passed a variety of sizes and breeds as she looked into each pen. The only other visitors were a young couple leaning down and cooing at a Jack Russell doing his best to impress. She carried on walking right down to the last cubicle; Siberia.

  The dog lay in his basket. He raised his eyes but stayed where he was. Kim swore she saw a hint of recognition.

  ‘Oh, that’s Barney,’ said a voice behind her. She turned to find a portly middle-aged woman with tightly curled greying hair. The name badge told her she was being addressed by Pam. Underneath it said, ‘Volunteer’.

  Kim made no reply and realised that Barney didn’t even have a name tag on his kennel.

  ‘Poor thing,’ the woman sighed. ‘He doesn’t even bother to get up and greet anyone. It’s like he’s given up.’

  Situated in Siberia, without a name tag, Kim couldn’t help but wonder who had given up on whom. The woman carried on talking.

  ‘We were lucky to get him rehomed last time; it’s all but impossible now. He’s a bit difficult.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Kim, speaking for the first time.

  ‘He doesn’t like crowds.’ Check.

  ‘He doesn’t like kids.’ Check.

  ‘But he likes lots of love and fuss.’ Well, two out of three wasn’t bad.

  ‘Poor thing. He was treated badly as a puppy, and ’cos he doesn’t play well with kids or other dogs he’s been brought back countless times. A few of his owners tried to make him better. One employed a dog whisperer to try and help him.’

  Kim raised one eyebrow. A bloody doggie shrink?

  ‘Nothing worked. In eight years he’s had as many homes. He’s a bit weird, but people just try and make him better and then end up disappointed. No one just accepts him for …’

  ‘I’ll take him,’ Kim said, surprising herself as much as the chatterbox beside her.

  Barney’s head had lifted, as though echoing the portly woman’s next statement.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  Kim nodded. ‘What now?’

  ‘Err … if you follow me we’ll go to reception and do the paperwork. I’m sure we can forego the home visit on this occasion.’

  Kim followed the way she’d come. She guessed they were eager for the kennel. Barney was the only dog with a pen to himself.

  Two forms and a debit card payment later, Barney was sitting in the back of her car with, she would swear, a bemused expression on his face. She still had no idea why she’d gone to see him, let along bring him home with her. Kim only knew that watching him being led away to uncertainty had stayed with her and the more she’d heard the volunteer speak about his social ineptness, the more the words had resonated within her. The offer of a new home had been out of her mouth before she could take it back.

  The staff had been so surprised they’d loaded her car with his bed, toys, raw hide chews and two weeks’ supply of dog food. Kim thought they were so eager to be rid of him she could have pushed for a lifetime supply and they would have agreed.

  ‘Okay, boy, we’re here,’ she said, as she parked outside her house. He remained seated until she opened the car door and gripped his lead. She led him inside and removed the clip from his collar. Once the door was closed he covered every inch of the available floor space with his nose, his tail wagging.

  Kim stood against the door. ‘Oh, Jesus, what have I done?’

  The panic set in immediately. Her home had been invaded by another living creature. The enormity of her actions dawned on her. She was barely capable of taking care of her own basic needs, never mind anything else. She ate when she was hungry, she slept when her body dictated and she very rarely sought exercise voluntarily.

  She fought the instinct to bundle him back into the car and return him. She knew how that felt. She took a deep breath and moved forward, taking control.

  ‘Okay, boy.’ Barney stopped what he was doing at the sound of her voice. ‘If this is gonna work we need some rules. Erm … I’m not sure what they are right now but the first one is absolutely no sofa, get it? There’s laminate flooring, a rug and your own bed. The sofa’s mine.’

  Strangely, Kim felt better now that was understood. She walked around him to go into the kitchen. Barney continued his exploration but less fervently.

  Coffee made, Kim sat and watched him wander around her space, his tail wagging contentedly. She took a moment to wonder what he was thinking. Was he really so easily transplanted or was he wary? Did he suspect that he was on nothing more than a holiday from the dog’s home and that his return would be guaranteed?

  Barney approached and sat beside the coffee table, looking at her. He turned his head and appraised her mug and then returne
d his gaze to her. She did nothing and he repeated the motion.

  ‘Are you kidding me, dog?’

  His tail swished the floor as she spoke.

  She leaned forward and dipped her little finger into the cooling drink. His rough tongue lapped at the liquid and then he waited. Kim smiled, only she could get a dog that liked coffee as much as she did.

  She poured a little of the liquid into his water bowl and cooled it with milk. His tongue slapped the bowl until it was bone dry. He raised his head, showing a creamy moustache.

  Kim laughed. ‘No more. Dogs and coffee don’t mix.’

  She took the rest of her drink back to the sofa. Barney seemed to get the message and lay close to her feet, almost touching.

  She lay her head on the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. She had to make this work. As uncomfortable as it was having another living being sharing her space, something had driven her forward to the dog shelter. The idea of discarding him again made her feel sick.

  Kim felt a movement on the sofa. She opened her eyes and found him sitting beside her. Still not touching.

  ‘Barney, I told you …’

  In a single move that channelled the speed and deftness of a ferret, he was in the crook of her arm.

  Okay, it was time to show the dog how this relationship was going to work. There would be food, water, a couple of toys, a bone or two, late night walks, but certainly not this.

  As she opened her mouth, he nudged closer, rested his head on her right breast and looked deep into her eyes. His own gaze full of questions.

  Her hand found its way to the top of Barney’s head, her fingers moving backwards and forwards in the smooth fur.

  He sighed and closed his eyes and so did Kim. Yeah, she’d certainly shown him who was boss.

  The rhythmic motion of stroking his soft fur lulled her into a state of relaxation.

  Gradually the sensation of a small, warm body nestled against her evoked a memory so powerful, of another time, many years ago, of another small body beside her seeking protection and reassurance.

  For the first time in twenty-eight years the tears escaped and rolled silently over her cheeks.

  TWENTY-NINE

  ‘Jesus, Kev, put it away,’ Stacey said, turning left out of the car park. ‘It’s like yer palm cor let it go.’

  Kev ignored her and continued to mess with his phone. ‘Fuck off, Stace.’

  A slow smile spread across his face before he expertly used two hands to text.

  Stacey had offered her services as designated driver to the Dunn house. No way was she trusting Kev to drive in his permanently distracted state.

  ‘If I had a dick, I’d name it Dawson,’ she observed.

  ‘Stace, I don’t know what you think you know, but whatever you think you know ain’t your damn business anyway, got it?’

  Stacey shrugged. She didn’t get offended when he told her to butt out. In fact, she rarely got offended at all. She had an opinion and she wasn’t afraid to use it.

  ‘I know you’m heading for trouble, Sonny Jim.’

  ‘Since when did my private life become available for public consumption?’

  ‘Since you hassled us all for advice the last time she caught ya.’

  Although his phone was on silent, she heard the soft vibration of a reply.

  ‘I’m gonna keep talking until yer phone goes back in yer pocket.’

  ‘Is this your idea of I’ve got a song that’ll get on your nerves?’

  ‘Yeah, I like to call it, I’ve got an opinion that’ll get in yer brain.’

  He sent another text message.

  ‘You are so gonna get caught. It’s a good job she don’t work in our office.’

  ‘What are you talking about, Stace?’ he asked, his fingers pausing above the keys.

  ‘We all know you’re putting it about, Kev. You’re a cocky bastard at the best of times but normally you’re a bit likeable to boot. But not right now. I don’t really like yer at all. And you’re getting on the Guv’s last nerve.’

  Reluctantly, he put the phone away.

  ‘Aah, network gone down, Kev?’

  He stared ahead.

  Stacey shook her head. Whether he realised it or not, he was more bothered about the boss finding out than his missus.

  ‘Remind me again why we’re going to the Dunn house,’ she asked.

  ‘Scene of crime have finished the second sweep and the boss wants us to sign it off.’

  Stacey knew that the techs had been back searching for forensic evidence since it had been discovered there was a potential second person in the room while Dunn had been abusing his child.

  ‘Now, I know it’s your first time with forensics but you’re not gonna embarrass me are you? I mean, it’s not like a computer game. These are real people, yeah?’

  ‘Oh, Kev, I think I preferred you messing with your phone,’ she said. Her addiction to the game World of Warcraft was a constant source of amusement to him.

  ‘Park just here on the left,’ he said, undoing his seatbelt.

  ‘I’m a detective, Kev. The big white van kinda gave it away.’

  ‘Smart-arse,’ he said, getting out of the car.

  She locked the doors and followed him into the property. Her heart rate had increased just a little. He didn’t know how accurate he was.

  Since joining the team of detectives eighteen months earlier, Stacey’s place had been in the office. The boss and Bryant tended to pair up. Dawson was often sent out on his own and she made friends with the computer.

  For a short period she had resented it, but had eventually come to love the technological digging and searching for facts that would support the rest of her team.

  And now the boss had thrown her a curveball and pushed her out of the safety zone. So, in some ways Dawson was right. She wasn’t quite sure how to act and as much as it pained her she would have to follow his lead. For now.

  There was no activity in the living area as they strode through the house. She took the steps down into the basement. Three white suits remained.

  ‘All done, Trish?’ Dawson asked the one in the middle.

  Stacey would never have guessed the figure was a woman. She pulled the white hood back to reveal a shaved head and a tattoo of a rose behind the left ear.

  ‘Trish, Stacey, Stacey, Trish,’ Dawson offered as an introduction. Trish offered her a brief smile. Stacey nodded in response.

  Dawson faced the technician. ‘So, what did you find?’

  Trish moved to the left. ‘The shadow in the footage was here,’ she said, standing by the wardrobe. ‘The camera was set up here, and the spotlamp was here.’

  Stacey followed the woman as she used herself as a prop around the room.

  ‘So, given the mathematics and common sense, our subject would have been standing right there. Just where you are now, Stacey.’

  ‘Oh, shit,’ she cried, as though standing on hot coals.

  Trish smiled in her direction. ‘It’s okay, he’s not there now.’

  Stacey felt the colour rush to her cheeks. She was thankful that her skin didn’t show it.

  ‘Pass me the light, Mo,’ Trish said to another tech.

  The infrared lamp was placed in her outstretched hand like a scalpel in a theatre.

  Mo immediately headed for the light switch and the room was plunged into total darkness. The blue light was aimed at the ground. Stacey knew the forensic light source was most successful at picking up body fluids: semen, vaginal fluids and saliva, which were all naturally fluorescent. From her basic knowledge it could also locate latent fingerprints, hairs, fibres and shoe prints.

  Trish stepped forward and highlighted the area. A small puddle, invisible to the naked eye, was now obvious upon the concrete.

  ‘Aww … shit,’ Kev said with disgust. The marking needed no further explanation.

  Stacey stepped back and stumbled as the reality of her surroundings bore down on her. Yes, she’d seen photos. Yes, she’d seen footage.
But she’d always been one step removed. Right now she was standing in a room where an eight-year-old girl had been stripped of her childhood forever. Daisy Dunn had stood in the middle of this space, terrified and alone, shivering, confused.

  Stacey felt the tears prick her eyes. As the light came on she took two paces back and lowered herself onto the step.

  A figure appeared above her. ‘First time?’ Trish asked, quietly.

  Stacey nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  ‘It’s tough. But don’t ever lose that connection. It’s what helps you do your job.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Stacey said, swallowing the tears.

  Trish touched her gently on the shoulder. ‘And anyway, I have a little present.’

  She took a small packet from the evidence tray on the desk. Bagged, taped and neatly labelled.

  ‘I have a single pubic hair.’

  THIRTY

  ‘You know, Guv, you were pretty good up there,’ Bryant said, as they pulled away from Dudley County Court.

  Kim shrugged off the compliment. Unlike some police officers, she never dreaded the inevitable court days. She’d never lied on the stand or even stretched the truth and so had nothing to fear.

  The defence barrister had been Justin Higgs-Clayton, an officious terrier who had paid for his four-bed, three-bath, double-garage property by defending high-paying serious fraud cases.

  She’d been handed the complaint almost twelve months earlier and had made a case against his client that would stick. The man in question had been registering false business credit cards to the AIDS charity for which he worked and had amassed a cool two hundred thousand.

  This particular barrister knew when a case was strong and switched his focus to police procedure in an attempt to find a loophole that might get the case thrown out on a technicality.

  ‘Did you have the PACE book in your back pocket?’ Bryant asked her now.

  The Police and Criminal Evidence Act of 1984 laid down every regulation and Code of Conduct for the Police Force.

  ‘No, but I think he did.’

  ‘What’s your bet?’

  ‘It’ll be guilty.’ Kim knew when she had done everything she possibly could to ensure that the lawbreaker went to jail. Her puzzle was complete on the fraud case. The Dunn case, she wasn’t so sure about.