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 broken, 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.’

The girl smirked and crossed her arms. ‘That’s why I gorra keep me prices high,’

The cronies sniggered and nudged each other.

‘Okay, answer a simple question and you got a deal.’

‘I ain't gorra answer no questions ‘cos you ain't gerrin in, bitch.’

Kim shrugged and began to turn. ‘Fine, I’ll just walk away but at least my way you had a chance.’

The hesitation lasted a second. ‘Goo on then?’

Kim turned back and looked into a face eager for money.

‘Tell me how much I’d have to pay if I asked for a fifteen per cent discount?’