Lost Girls (8 page)

K
im emptied
the old filter into the bin. The sodden coffee sent it to the bottom with a thud.

She placed a crisp, white triangle into the machine and added four generous measures of coffee and then another for good luck.

She sat at the table and waited, her eyes drawn to the photo on the wall.

She was entranced by the girls' purity. Both beamed at the camera, a snapshot of joy caught forever. Two young souls secure in the world built around them: their families, their friends, their innocence.

Kim wondered if there had ever been a moment in her own earlier life when such a moment could have been caught.

There may have been a time between the ages of ten to thirteen when the camera might have framed a smile. With Erica on one side and Keith on the other, foster family four had made her feel safe. And yet, even then her eyes would have reflected the sorrow inside. The kindness of the couple could not have erased her past.

She could not think of Keith and Erica without travelling to Mikey. The box in her mind marked 'loss' held the memories of them all.

She closed her eyes for a second. How different would life have been if they'd had a mother like Erica?

Kim quickly shook the thoughts away. Delving into the contents of her mind was like a game of mine jumping. Stay for too long and she'd be blown to smithereens.

She hated to admit that Karen's words had unnerved her. The description of maternal love couldn't have been further from her own experience. That all-encompassing devotion of which she spoke was lost to Kim. She had no frame of reference and so couldn't comprehend the thoughts. There had been no magical bond with her mother. Kim had been too busy trying to keep herself and Mikey alive.

The chat with Karen had drawn her back to the past and now it was with her. Here. In the room.

Kim pushed the chair back and opened the door. She gingerly stepped along the hallway.

‘You okay there, Marm?' said a figure from the corner.

‘I thought you were sleeping,' Kim said to Lucas, who had resumed his position.

‘Had a couple of hours. Fine now until relief arrives,' the young officer replied.

She nodded and pulled open the heavy oak door. The freezing temperature reached in and grabbed her bare skin. She happily stepped out to greet it.

She thrust her hands into her pockets and faced the cold wind head on.

It swirled around her head, numbing her ears, before pushing against a tree, which passed the movement along so that the entire row of conifers leaned to the right.

Kim thrust her hands down deeper as she walked to the tree line. The wind paused abruptly. The only sound was her feet landing on twigs made brittle by the ice and dislodged by the wind.

Kim turned as a sudden gust lifted the lid of the wheelie bin and threw it back down before retreating again.

She resumed her walk but a rustle reached her ears. No plants or trees moved.

Her body reacted instantly, senses switched to high alert. She froze every muscle in her body to listen for the sound again.

Silence.

No light reached her from the street lamps at the end of the drive. The only light from the front of the house was in the hallway, obscured by the heavy oak door that Lucas had pushed closed.

A scent wafted past her nostril. A hint of petunia but no flowers were in bloom.

She turned her head slightly in the direction of the rustle. A gust blew along the tree line, revealing a mass on the other side of the dense hedge.

The smell grew stronger as the shape moved slightly to the left. The two of them were now level but separated by the tree line.

The movement of her heart sounded loudly in her ears. If she retreated to the house she would never know who had been out here in the shadows, skulking and watching.

She was halfway down the perimeter line. Even if she sprinted up or down and round to the other side she would lose valuable time.

Kim stood still for one more second before thrusting her arm forcefully through the hedge.

Her hand met and curled into thick, coarse cloth. The wind lulled so that she heard a sharp intake of breath. And then a laugh.

‘Who the hell…?' Kim said, pulling the jacket through the trees.

Kim loosed the figure who was trying to brush tree cobwebs from her face.

‘Up to your old tricks again, Stone. Keeping secrets?'

Kim's heart electrified in her chest.

Tracy Frost knocked Kim's hand away from her jacket but Kim stood firm. This was not going to end well.

‘What the hell are you doing here?' Kim spat, but she already knew and it wasn't good.

‘I could ask you the same question,' Tracy said, tipping her head.

‘Except I'm not going to answer and you know it.'

Kim's mind was working furiously. She would not give this woman an inch.

‘I know there's something big going on …'

‘Yeah, feel free to file that in the
Dudley Star
tomorrow,' Kim said, holding her ground. ‘And don't you have anything better to do than follow me around?'

‘You would make a great story, though.'

‘You followed me from the crime scene, didn't you?'

Tracy shrugged but looked mighty pleased with herself.

‘What the hell do you want?' Kim asked. She was quickly losing patience. Conversing with anyone in freezing temperatures at four in the morning was bad enough but with this lowlife it was absolutely unbearable.

‘I reckon it's an abduction,' Tracy stated with a smile.

Kim felt the disgust circulate around her body. Only this poor excuse for a woman could say that sentence with a smile.

‘Good for you,' Kim said, turning away.

Her heart was beating wildly. Kim knew she had a problem.

‘Press blackout, Force blackout. Tells me you're scared of fucking it up again.'

‘Let's not go there, Tracy.'

‘Ha, you still think it was me, don't you?'

Kim gritted her teeth. ‘I know it was you. You broke the story of Dewain Wright and cost him his life.'

Tracy shook her head. ‘It wasn't me,' she said in a voice that said she was sick of saying the same thing.

Kim was just as sick of hearing it and she still didn't believe her.

‘No, you keeping the truth hidden did that and you know it.'

Kim turned away. ‘Tracy, get the f—'

‘I'm going to find out what's going on, Stone. And when I do—'

‘You'll keep it to your damn self, you heartless bitch, because if you don't you will live to regret it.'

Tracy stepped forward into the challenge. ‘And if I don't?'

‘Then I will leak a story of my own. I'm sure the public would love to know that you like a drink. I mean,
really
like a drink, and that one night you were so pissed you beat a man up for taking pictures of you, and only one of my officers being there stopped you getting arrested. Dawson should have booked you for drunk and disorderly, a few Section Five offences and a sexual assault.'

Tracy stepped back.

‘You really thought I wouldn't find out? Dawson may be a pain but he's also very loyal. I know that your hand found its way down his trousers during the scuffle. Be a great headline for a crime reporter, wouldn't it? Your editor would love to run it. Right after signing your letter of dismissal.'

Tracy knew her well enough to know there was no bluff. Only one of them knew how much the threat needed to work. Although the press blackout was in operation, Tracy had a big mouth and Kim could do without her even voicing her suspicions.

‘A few days. I'll wait a few days,' Tracy said, backing away completely. ‘And then I'm digging.'

Kim felt the relief flood through her body. The last thing she needed was Tracy sniffing around this case right now.

Tracy was ten feet away when she turned. ‘I know what you're thinking, Stone, and I'm not going to say it again. But instead of just instantly blaming me for what went wrong, check the timeline and see what you find.'

Kim responded by turning away and entering the house. She didn't need to check a thing. Tracy Frost was responsible for the death of Dewain Wright and that's all there was to it. Tracy's crack about Kim's own culpability was no more than an effort to deflect blame from herself.

Damn it, she would check the records and prove herself right once and for all.

C
harlie Timmins sat
with her back against the wall. It was one of the few areas she'd found that wasn't covered in cool, wet slime that smelled really bad.

The tops of her legs were cramping but she tried her hardest not to move. It was like playing the freeze game with Daddy, except when they played Mummy would stop the music and she and Daddy had to stay still for as long as they could.

Charlie loved the game but found that when she had to concentrate on staying still every part of her wanted to move. Suddenly she would be covered in tiny invisible itches but she would try to focus on something around her to distract her mind.

And that's what she was trying to do now as her hands absently stroked the hair of the head that had finally fallen asleep in her lap.

Charlie had no idea if it was night or day or how long they'd been in the smelly darkness.

The policeman said he'd been sent by Mummy because her car had broken down. Daddy had told her to never talk to strangers but he was a policeman.

The thought of her daddy made her throat ache so bad. She fought back the tears out of habit. Amy got more frightened if she got upset. Then Amy's face would freeze and she'd breathe funny. Twice now, Charlie had managed to calm her back down by playing a game.

She swallowed back the tears. They hadn't helped her yet. Mummy and Daddy hadn't come. At first she'd been angry but gradually she'd come to understand they didn't know where she was.

Charlie knew they would come if they could.

A shudder ran through the whole of her body but it wasn't the cold. It was a different kind of feeling to when Daddy had taken her ice skating. That day, her teeth had chattered and her flesh had been cool. But a minute away from the ice, and her trembling had stopped.

She swallowed the fear down deep into her stomach and tried to tell herself she wasn't afraid. Trying to think about everything that had happened kept the shaking away.

The room held one double mattress and a bucket. Charlie had realised just a few seconds before Amy what it was for. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, throwing a sickly yellow glow around the room.

She tried to focus on what she knew. There were two men. They didn't come into the room but she knew there were two because their footsteps were different. She and Amy had been fed twice and one placed the meals just inside the door and the other skidded them across the floor.

Both meals had been the same. A sandwich in a plastic package, a bag of crisps and a carton of juice.

Their last meal had been brought by the skimmer. Charlie had shushed Amy to listen as the footsteps on the stairs had been followed immediately by the opening of their door. The door had closed and the footsteps had moved away. Another door opened and closed not far away. Then the footsteps had passed by their door once more before going back upstairs.

It was something she'd think about more when she wasn't so tired. Maybe she could just rest her head back and sleep for a little bit. The sound of Amy's deep breathing was willing her into relaxation. Maybe for just a minute, while Amy was sleeping, if she could ignore the mattress spring digging in her thigh.

Her head fell back against the knobbly, cold wall. Even the coarse brick digging into her head couldn't stop the weight of her eyelids from drooping. She felt the heavy blackness descend. She liked it. She wanted to follow it. It looked safe and maybe when she woke up Mummy and—

‘How are you doing in there, little girlies,' said a voice from the other side of the door.

Charlie bolted upright. The fatigue had pulled her towards sleep and she'd missed the warning noises she was trying to learn.

‘Charl … what's …?' Amy stirred and lifted her head, woken by Charlie's sudden movement.

‘Shhh …' Charlie hushed.

‘I've been busy tonight, little girlies. Do you know Brad from the leisure centre?'

Amy had grabbed her hand and held it tightly. The sound of the voice was almost nice. It was soft but not warm. Pleasant but not friendly.

‘Who's Brad?' Amy whispered.

‘He sometimes took our money at the front desk,' Charlie whispered. And he had once put a plaster on Amy's toe.

‘Answer me, girlies,' he shouted.

‘Y-yes,' Charlie shouted back as Amy scooted into her.

‘I met him today and we played a little game. I like to play games.'

Amy sucked in a big breath and looked towards her. Charlie felt her eyes widening as she continued to stare at the door.

‘The game was to see how many times I could kick his head before it exploded. It was so funny when his nose splattered beneath my boot. I kicked him again and his eyeball popped clean out of his socket.'

‘Charl …' Amy whispered. ‘Make him …'

‘Put your hands over your ears,' Charlie said. And she would do the same.

‘I can't,' she said, unwilling to let Charlie's hand go.

‘Come here,' Charlie said, lifting their joined hands between both their heads like a pair of shared earphones. ‘Now do this,' she said, raising her free hand to cover her other ear.

‘…cried like a baby and begged … to stop … kicked him again. A good … rugby kick and I … head might break away from … neck.'

Although the voice was muffled, Charlie could still hear most of the words and it was enough to paint a terrifying picture in her head.

She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the words and the images.

‘…snapped and blood poured out of … ears … teeth landed … floor.'

Amy gave a little whimper and Charlie pulled her closer.

‘…brain oozed … over …'

‘Charl …' Amy breathed.

Charlie was powerless to make it stop. She closed her eyes even tighter, scrunching up her whole face to block him out.

‘…enjoyed it, girlies. I loved … second of it. … payment you see. Not interested … money … causing pain. I hurt … bad, my little pretties …'

Charlie was still hearing only parts and it was enough to make her tummy feel bad. But when the final sentence came she heard every word.

‘And I can't wait to play a game with you.'