Lost Girls Read online

  ‘Typical prosecutor,’ Bryant said.

  ‘Robert seems nice enough but I think there's more to him than meets the eye. Elizabeth appears to bend to Stephen's will like Uri Geller's favourite spoon and Karen is nothing like I remember.’

  ‘Children's home?’

  Kim nodded. ‘And foster family seven.’

  Bryant dropped the drill. ‘Jeez, how many were there?’

  It was a stark reminder that the person closest to her in the world knew so little about her past. Perfect.

  As was the timing of her mobile phone ringing right at that second. Until she realised who was on the other end.

  ‘Stone,’ she answered.

  Woody’s voice boomed in her ear. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Sorry, Sir?’ she answered.

  Bryant was quietly shaking his head.

  ‘I have a kid in my station under arrest for assaulting you. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, he put his hands on me.’

  ‘Do not insult my intelligence. The truth. Now.’

  Kim groaned inwardly. She had known this conversation was going to come but she’d hoped it would be tomorrow.

  ‘Brad saw one of the kidnappers, Sir. I don’t think he’s safe on the streets.’

  ‘Did you suitably advise him?’ Woody asked. Somehow the rage was travelling through the line directly into her ear.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘But you thought you’d engineer his safety at the station, anyway?’

  ‘I don’t think he understands the severity of the situation and I couldn’t tell him.’

  ‘Be that as it may, Stone, I am not prepared to keep that young man here for a moment longer on your trumped-up charges and any subsequent lawsuits will be on your head. As soon as he is finished with the sketch artist I shall have him taken to wherever he wants to go with a profuse apology from West Midlands Police.’

  Kim closed her eyes for a second. ‘I know he’s—’

  ‘And if there are any further shenanigans of this nature, Baldwin will not need to remove you from this case, as I will be more than happy to do it myself.’

  The line went dead in her ear.

  ‘Ouch,’ she said, throwing her phone onto the table.

  ‘You had to know that was coming,’ Bryant offered.

  She shrugged. Of course, but that didn’t make it fun.

  ‘Bloody hell, Guv,’ Dawson said, opening the door. ‘It's dropped to minus two already.’

  Kim waited for him to remove his jacket. He had been tasked to Inga's address, which had not been hard to track down after a general idea from Elizabeth Hanson.

  Unfortunately that was all she'd been able to learn from them. The employers had known nothing of their employee's friends, boyfriend or family. If Inga had talked, they hadn't been listening.

  Stacey had been unable to find any connection between the nanny and the previous families so that ruled her out as a link.

  ‘Well?’ she asked.

  ‘Her place looks like a monster truck went through it. Twice. The door was open, and of course I had to see if she was in there. Whoever's looking for her is not a happy bunny. Everything was trashed and I mean everything: furniture, ornaments, pictures, plates.’

  ‘A warning then?’

  ‘Oh yeah, she'd better hope we find her before they do.’

  ‘Either a warning or a man that can't control himself,’ Kim said, tapping her chin.

  ‘Or both,’ Dawson said.

  Kim nodded. ‘Any description of the male from the neighbours?’

  Dawson rolled his eyes. ‘Old guy downstairs with dementia gave me an exceptionally detailed description. Said the guy was around five foot two, black curly hair, glasses and a navy blue shirt.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Then his son stepped out to see what I wanted and guess what? That's right, he was five foot two, black curly hair, blue shirt and …’

  ‘Glasses,’ Stacey finished.

  Kim groaned. ‘Okay, Kev, make Inga Bauer top priority in the—’

  Her words ended abruptly as a loud, shrill scream filled the house.

  Seventeen

  Symes sat in the shadows and waited. That stupid bitch, Inga, had swindled him out of his promised payday but he would find her and when he did she would be sorry. She would pay with added interest but for now he had been thrown an unexpected bonus.

  He knew he intimidated people and he enjoyed every minute of it. His height and muscle mass were the first things that people noticed about him. Next they clocked the shaved head, then the tattoos and a picture was formed. And was probably quite accurate.

  But it was more than that and he knew it. The expression in his eyes dared anyone who glanced his way to take him on. It let the world know he was ready for a fight.

  Even now a group of men stood not too far away, fags in one hand, pints in another, but not one of them dared look him in the eye.

  It hadn’t always been that way. By the time he was ready to fight back his real enemy had been dead. Only while he was a child had his father dared to hit, kick and spit on him. Every ounce of the man’s frustration at his wife’s desertion had found a direct route to his son’s flesh. If only his father had known that eventually Symes would come to hate his mother. It was something they could have agreed on.

  As a child he had found that his pain was eased only by causing pain. There was a release, a euphoria like nothing else he had ever experienced. The power transported him to another place. It was beyond sexual, it was almost religious in its purity, something to worship.

  A movement caught his peripheral vision. He looked the figure up and down.

  It was time to say a prayer.

  Eighteen

  ‘Another text message, Marm,’ Helen said, poking her head in the doorway.

  Kim had guessed as much from Karen’s scream and brushed past the liaison officer.

  She found the four of them in the comfy lounge, as she now thought of it. The activity was completely at odds with the ambiance. Unlike the formal lounge across the hallway, this room was bathed in a beige glow with soft, warm furnishings and sofas gathered around a fire and a TV. Clearly it was intended as a space for a family to gather at night to relax. But now she felt the room might explode with tension at any minute.

  Stephen paced the area behind the sofa. Robert stood at the window biting down on his hand. Karen and Elizabeth sat close to each other, staring at their phones.

  ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Stephen shouted.

  Kim held out her hand towards Karen who relinquished the device readily. Kim immediately saw that the text message was from a different number than the first. She took Elizabeth’s phone next and the words were exactly the same.

  Your daughter is safe for now. The game will begin tomorrow.

  ‘Tell us, Inspector. What does that mean?’ Stephen raged.

  Kim shook her head. At this point she had no clue what they were dealing with.

  She couldn't help but wonder at the purpose of the text message. It asked for nothing. It told them nothing. It appeared to be a poke.

  ‘Did you pre-empt this?’ Stephen asked. ‘How do we react? What do we say?’

  ‘At the moment we say nothing, Mr Hanson. The message calls for no response,’ Kim replied calmly.

  He threw his hands in the air. ‘Is that really how you intend to manage this investigation, Inspector? No response?’

  She tried not to offer a reaction to what was clearly a fear-induced rant but it was becoming clear that every bit of his rage was going to be aimed at her.

  Kim opened her mouth but Helen stepped forward.

  ‘Try to focus on the first part of the message,’ she said, looking around the parents. ‘Your daughters are safe.’

  The ladies looked to the kindly woman who took a seat at the end of the sofa. Elizabeth tried in vain to stem the tears but Karen allowed them to fall freely.

  Helen looked
to Kim for permission to continue. Kim offered a slight nod. This was not her skill set.

  ‘Look, consider the logic. Whoever these people are, they want something from you. It's not in their best interest to harm your girls in any way.’

  All eyes were on Helen. Her warm, comforting voice drew them in like a congregation. This was serious counselling training at work.

  Robert took his place beside Karen and gently took her hand. Unconsciously she leaned into him. The tears slowed as they all focussed on Helen.

  Kim edged out of the lounge and headed back to the dining room. She closed the door behind her.

  ‘Okay, guys, there's nothing more to be done tonight so I want you all to go home and turn up fresh tomorrow. Six o’clock start. I can't promise there'll be no all-nighters while we work this case, but not tonight.’

  ‘You going home, Guv?’ Bryant asked.

  Kim shook her head. She would make her bed in this room tonight.

  ‘Then, I don't see why we—’

  ‘Because I said so, Bryant.’ Her voice left no wiggle room.

  Slowly Dawson and Stacey collected their belongings and filed out of the room. They had a total of seven hours to get home, sleep and get back again.

  Bryant took his time. ‘What about The Prince?’ he asked, with a knowing smirk.

  She raised an eyebrow. That was Bryant’s pet name for her dog, Barney. So called because she treated the dog like royalty, apparently.

  ‘I called Dawn earlier. She’s moved in.’

  Kim had claimed Barney from the shelter after his owner had been brutally murdered a few months earlier. The dog didn’t mix well, didn’t like crowds and was unlikely to change. They suited each other perfectly.

  But one person Barney had taken to was the receptionist at the grooming salon. He hated the groomer with a passion but he liked the nineteen-year-old girl who lived with her parents and loved the occasional freedom that came with taking care of Barney.

  ‘Hope she passed all the relevant checks,’ Bryant said. ‘The only dog-sitter I know who has probably been put through the DBS.’

  Kim offered no reply but he wasn’t far wrong.

  ‘Bye, Bryant,’ she said, looking pointedly at the door.

  He offered her a salute and took his leave.

  Kim began to empty the contents of her rucksack. She folded the change of clothes neatly and placed them underneath the easy chair. She stacked her toiletries to the side but left the bike magazine in the bag.

  A soft tap sounded at the door. It was Helen.

  ‘I've persuaded them all to get off to bed, Marm. I'm not sure how much sleeping will be going on but they're in the right place if they can drop off for an hour or two.’

  ‘Thanks, Helen. Get off home now.’ Kim checked her watch. ‘Can you be back by about nine?’

  Helen shook her head. ‘No. I'll be back at the same time as the others.’

  Kim smiled. ‘Six.’

  ‘I'll see you then,’ she said, backing away from the door. Suddenly the head popped back into view. ‘Try to get some rest, Marm.’

  Kim nodded and took a seat at the dining table.

  She heard the front door close. Helen was going to be invaluable to her and the investigation. She would form the bridge between the team and families. She would provide the reassurance without the detail, freeing up Kim to focus on the case.

  Kim made a mental note to ensure that Helen got enough time away. Otherwise she would drown under the weight of sadness, fear and expectation.

  And, potentially, grief, said a small voice in her head.

  She pushed it away and headed out of the room. Lucas nodded her way as she headed up the stairs.

  As she passed along the hallway she could hear talking from one direction and soft crying from somewhere else. She headed for the fourth door on the right and entered quietly. She closed the door before feeling for the light switch.

  A single bed jutted out from the left wall. A poster of five boys looked down on to a quilt cover and pillowcase from some Disney film. There was a slight indent in the bedding where someone had sat. A pair of monkey printed pyjamas were folded neatly on the pillow, awaiting Charlie’s return.

  Kim placed her own behind in the place she suspected had been made by Karen and looked around the little girl’s space. The furniture was white antique with a distressed finish. A bookcase held ornaments, cuddly toys and a few books. A chest of drawers supported a small television in the corner. And a dressing table held a mirror surrounded by a trail of fairy lights.

  Everywhere her eyes landed she saw the personality of Karen’s little girl. Bracelets, rings and coloured hair inserts. A couple of hair scrunchies, a set of multi-coloured braces to be added to any pair of jeans.

  In front of the wardrobe was a collection of trainers: a pair with lights, a pair with wheels and an assortment of colourful laces to mix and match.

  Kim switched on the bedside lamp. Immediately a projection of the solar system began to rotate on the ceiling. She smiled at the effect. As she leaned across to turn it off her arm caught a photograph that faced the bed.

  It was a simple silver frame and held a newspaper clipping of both girls with wet hair beaming into the camera. The lengthy piece was headed with a title that reported a double win at a national gala.

  Clearly Charlie liked to look at that photo before she fell asleep. Kim placed the frame back on the bedside cabinet as the ringing of her phone came from beside her on the bed. The brittle sound fractured the peace and she wanted to silence it immediately.

  It was a mobile phone number that she didn’t know.

  ‘Stone,’ she answered.

  ‘It’s Inspector Travis from West Mercia.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, frowning. There was a time they had addressed each other on a first-name basis when they had worked together for West Midlands. Until the day she made inspector before him. He had transferred to the smaller, neighbouring force and taken his animosity with him.

  ‘I have a body,’ he stated.

  Kim found it amusing that he had never once addressed her by her rank. ‘And?’ she asked. What did he want from her – flags and a party?

  ‘It might be someone you know.’

  The dread that had been following her for hours finally settled in her stomach.

  ‘Go on,’ she said, readying herself for what she knew was about to come.

  ‘Male, blond, early twenties – and he has your card in his pocket.’

  Nineteen

  The engine of the Ninja died as it reached the cordon tape.

  She removed her helmet and hung it over the handlebars. The Lyttelton Arms was a gastropub situated on the Bromsgrove Road in Hagley; barely a mile from the border where the two forces of West Midlands and West Mercia met.

  The pub itself was the last property before the road narrowed to a lane with hedges on both sides. Fifty feet from the pub Travis stood in her way, obviously alerted to her arrival by the Ninja. The cars had been cut off at the traffic island so every sound travelled.

  Only the light of his torch illuminated the immediate area between them.

  ‘I need to take this case,’ Kim said, without preamble. Niceties hadn’t existed between the two of them for more than three years.

  ‘No chance,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I remember saying the same to you not too far away from here and you shot me down because you were there first.’

  Oh yes, she remembered it well. It had been the body of Teresa Wyatt, which had kicked off the whole Crestwood investigation.

  ‘Don’t make it personal, Travis. This is not the time to get me back,’ she said, stepping to the side to walk around him. He blocked her path.

  ‘Why’s this kid have your card in his pocket?’

  ‘His name is Brad and he has it because I gave it to him,’ she said, stepping to the left.

  Again he moved in front of her.

  ‘What the hell is your problem?’ she growled.

  �
��You’re not getting it, Stone.’

  ‘For God’s sake, I can hardly pick up the crime scene and run away with it, can I? Just let me take a look.’

  Somehow Woody’s instructions to play nice appeared to have wormed into her subconscious. She hadn’t called Travis one foul name yet.

  ‘Five minutes, Stone. I’ll give you five whole minutes at my crime scene.’

  She shook her head and stepped past him. Oh, the names were hovering at her lips.

  ‘I’m still curious how you know this guy,’ he said, matching her stride.

  ‘And I wouldn’t want to spoil that fun by telling you,’ she said, as three torchlights shone her way.

  She shielded her eyes and carried on walking. Two further torches shone down onto the body of Bradley Evans.

  Kim took a few seconds to brace herself for the final expression this young face would ever make. Only hours ago he had been an athletic, animated young man, assisting her and Bryant before a night out with his mates. And now he was dead. The chill that ran through her had nothing to do with the temperature.

  She could have done more to prevent his death. She knew she could. She wasn’t sure what but somehow she felt there was more.

  The keys of the leisure centre glistened in the torchlight. They had either fallen out of his pocket or been removed by Travis.

  ‘No pathologist yet?’ she asked.

  ‘On her way,’ Travis said.

  ‘What time was he found?’

  ‘Twenty past twelve,’ Travis offered.

  It was now after one a.m. and the pathologist wasn’t here. As the Officer in Charge she would not have been standing around with a group of redundant police officers at this stage. She would have had the phone attached to her ear threatening to move the body herself if they didn’t get here soon. For this short limbo period of time, clues could be getting lost, evidence destroyed, witnesses travelling further away. The investigation was stalled until the techies had arrived.

  But, she had to remember this was not her crime scene.

  She held out her hand to the closest officer. ‘May I?’