SIXTY-THREE

‘Sir, will you just hear me out?’ Kim begged.

Woody banged his fist on the table. Kim would have liked the same outlet for her frustration but the fresh bandage prevented it.

‘No, Stone, I will not. This woman has taken enough of your time and you have not one ounce of proof that she’s even done anything wrong.’

‘I have the books. Dougie has recited every …’

‘And he’ll testify to that on the stand, will he?’ he stormed, glaring at her.

Kim’s phone sounded in her pocket. She ignored it and so did Woody.

‘Believe me, she is hurting people. Not directly, but she is manipulating people into doing things. Ruth Willis …’

‘Murdered Allan Harris out of revenge.’

‘But Jessica has been manipulated …’

‘You’re being ridiculous. Jessica Ross is severely ill. You can’t know this has anything to do with the psychiatrist.’

Kim wondered if he was ever going to let her finish a sentence.

Her phone dinged with the receipt of a voicemail.

Woody’s irritation moved up a gear.

‘I know that she is using her patients for some sick kind of research …’

‘That sounds ridiculous here in my office and would sound even more preposterous in a courtroom.’

Her phone tinged a text message and Woody’s face turned thunderous.

‘Stone, I’ve already sent your team home and I suggest you do the same. I will not discuss this matter with you any further.’

She stood as her phone began to ring again.

‘And for goodness’ sake, answer your damn phone.’

Any type of curse from her boss signalled he was only a few degrees short of boiling. The next sentence would signal the end of her career. She had to leave it. For now.

The call had cut off by the time she closed Woody’s office door behind her.

The two missed calls were from David Hardwick.

She went straight to the text message.

The first sentence her eyes skimmed over.

SORRY TO BOTHER YOU IF U R BUSY

But the second sentence jumped out at her.

BUT DOUGIE’S NOT BACK FROM HIS WALK

Kim hit the call button and headed down the stairs. David answered on the second ring.

‘Thanks for calling …’

‘How late is he?’ she asked, using her shoulder to push through the front door.

‘Twenty minutes, but he’s never late …’

‘You don’t think it’s Alex?’ she asked, swallowing the unease building in her chest.

‘After what we read? I just don’t know,’ he answered honestly.

‘But she doesn’t know about the books,’ Kim said. She hadn’t had the chance to confront her. She’d been too busy chasing Jessica Ross.

‘She might know,’ David admitted.

Kim’s head began to swim. Oh no.

‘After you left, I caught Malcolm listening behind the door.’

‘Oh shit,’ she said and ended the call.

SIXTY-FOUR

Kim fired up the bike and wrapped her hand around the accelerator. The pain shot through all five fingers and as far as her shoulder. She ignored it and adjusted the position of her palm so the safety pin didn’t dig into the area of the wound.

Once she’d collected her jacket and keys, a quick call to David had informed her that Dougie normally walked the canal from Netherton to Brierley Hill where he exited and walked home, passing a fish bar in Quarry Bank that gifted him a cone of chips.

They had agreed that David would start at Netherton, she would start at Brierley Hill and they would meet somewhere in the middle.

David’s words had said there was probably nothing to worry about. His tone said different.

They both knew if Alex had Dougie, there was something to worry about for sure. The doctor didn’t like loose ends, and Dougie was very loose indeed.

Kim pulled up at the lights at the top of Thorns Road and wiped moisture from her visor.

The winter had not seen the snowfall of the previous year but the early March rain held just a lacklustre effort at sleet.

She rode past the bright lights of the Merry Hill shopping centre. The bridge David had described sat at the front of a sprawling estate and the seven tower blocks that rose up from its belly.

She parked the bike on a patch of dirt. Her gloves were shoved inside her helmet, which was then secured to the seat.

She stepped around the bike to traverse the slope down onto the canal towpath. Discarded nappy bags and takeaway wrappers littered the route.

Each step took her further away from the illumination of the single street lamp. A deflated football caught her left foot unawares. She stumbled and reached out to steady herself, and a stinger bit at her skin.

Kim swore softly as she continued down into the darkness. The road noise was travelling eerily into the distance.

At most, she could make out twenty feet ahead before she entered total darkness. She had no idea how long that darkness lasted. She continued walking forward into the gaping black mass. It wouldn’t be long until she could no longer distinguish the path from the canal.

She moved slowly, occasionally startled by a movement from the water. Kim guessed it was probably rats.

She took out her mobile phone and pointed it to the ground. It could have been no darker around her if she’d chosen to close her eyes. The light from the Torch function enabled her to place one foot in front of the other.

Kim continued to move forward and felt the ground beneath her change. Putting out her left hand, she felt the dripping slime on brick. She’d made it to a tunnel. The smell of urine almost overpowered her, but there was a darker, fouler stench.

A single street lamp from the bridge illuminated the exit from the tunnel and there a white pedal-bin liner lay open, displaying rotten meat. Something small scurried away from her probing light. She covered her nose and moved quickly past it.

Once more she entered the darkness.

Alex had got her playing cat and mouse and right now, Kim felt like the mouse.

‘Come on, Dougie, where are you?’

SIXTY-FIVE

Dawson sighed deeply and rested his head against the wall.

Stacey carried on pacing. She’d read every poster on the noticeboard a dozen times and was now well versed on the symptoms of at least fifteen diseases.

The door opened to the side ward. Stacey halted and Dawson raised his head with hopeful expectation. They’d been waiting over four hours.

The nurse nodded. ‘You can see him now. He’s weak and fragile but alive. I can’t let you stay for very long.’

Stacey nodded her agreement as Dawson lifted himself from the chair.

‘Bloody hell, Charlie, you had us for a minute there,’ Dawson said as they entered the room.

Stacey was surprised by his appearance. Although grossly overweight, that was what had probably saved him. Death by aspirin was normally dictated by an ingredient to body weight ratio. And he carried a lot of weight.

His complexion bore no correlation to his heartbeat. Not a smudge of colour graced his face. But he was younger than Stacey had thought initially. Now, she put his age at mid- to late thirties.

‘What’s going on, Charlie?’ Dawson asked, taking the seat beside the bed. Stacey perched herself on the windowsill.

‘I’ve just had enough.’

‘Is there something you want to tell us, mate?’ Kev asked.

‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Come on, Charlie. There’s something going on here. There’s a reason you wanted to die. Just tell us and we can help you. It’ll feel better once you let it out.’

Stacey watched as he swallowed and shook his head.

‘Charlie, we know it was you, mate. You were in the basement with those girls, weren’t you? You watched while their father …’