Silent Scream: An edge of your seat serial killer thriller (Detective Kim Stone crime thriller series Book 1) (19 page)

‘
M
ay 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?

T
he 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?’

Confusion creased the girl’s features. ‘I don't fuckin’ know the ...’

‘See, if you went to school, look how much more you’d be able to extort.’ Kim leaned in closer so that their faces were an inch apart. ‘Now get out of the way before I drag you by your nose ring.’

Kim kept her voice low and allowed her eyes to do the work.

The girl stared back for a full minute. Kim didn’t blink.

‘Come on, girls, this bitch ain’t worth it,’ she said, moving to the left. The posse followed.

Once the doorway was clear, Kim turned. ‘Hey, lady; a tenner to watch the car.’

The girl hesitated but a second girl nudged her from behind. ‘Deal,’ she growled.

Bryant followed her into the shell of a building. Anything of value had been removed, including the ceiling tiles. A seven foot crack travelled from the right hand corner towards the middle of the back wall.

Three men stood in the opposite corner. They all turned. Two looked instantly panicked and headed past them to the door. Career criminals were like bloodhounds and could smell police from the neighbouring county.

‘Something we said, boys?’ Bryant asked.

One of the boys sucked air through his teeth as a sign of disrespect and Kim shook her head. The feeling was mutual.

The remaining man Kim recognised from the crematorium on the day they chased the body of Mary Andrews.

‘Pastor Wilks, I didn’t recognise you with your clothes on,’ Bryant quipped.

Victor Wilks smiled with barely concealed tolerance to a comment he must have heard many times. Although Bryant was not far wrong.

Dressed in robes, Wilks had been an instant figure of reverence, respect, familiarity. Here, in normal surroundings, he looked ordinary, just an average man. Her initial assessment at the crematorium had put him in his late fifties but without the uniform he dropped ten years. The casual clothing of light jeans and blue sweatshirt accentuated a build that was more muscle than fat.

‘May I offer you a drink?’ he asked, pointing to a silver urn.

Kim noted the last two fingers on his right hand. They curled underneath like a hook. It was an injury she'd seen before in bare knuckle fighters. Together with his above average height she was guessing he'd boxed at some point in his life.

Kim looked at the urn and nudged Bryant, who responded. ‘No thank you, Pastor ... Minister ...’

‘Victor, please.’

‘What the hell do you do here?’ Kim asked. No sane person would enter this place by choice.

He smiled. ‘Try to offer hope, Detective. This area is one of the most deprived in the country. I try to show them there is another way. It’s easy to be judgmental but there is good in everyone, you just have to look.’

Aha, there it is, she thought as his voice changed to sermon mode.

‘What’s your success rate?’ Kim asked, irritated. ‘How many of these souls have you saved?’

‘I don’t deal in numbers, my dear.’

‘Luckily,’ she said, wandering around the room.

Bryant began to speak about the investigation. ‘We understand that you would visit Crestwood regularly; speak to the girls, conduct short services?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘We also understand that now and again you would cover for William Payne?’

‘That is also correct. All of us offered cover for him now and again. His situation is unenviable, I’m sure you’ll agree. His commitment to his daughter is admirable. He is eternally grateful for the life of Lucy. He cares for her tirelessly. All the staff did their best to support him.’ He thought for a moment then added, ‘well, most of the staff.’

Kim completed her circuit of the room and stood beside Bryant. ‘Talking of the staff, can you tell us who was there during the time you were involved with Crestwood?’

Victor walked to the urn and Kim couldn’t help her surprise that the metal instrument had not yet been robbed for scrap.

He dropped a tea bag into a plastic cup. ‘Richard Croft had just been installed in the position of manager. His role seemed to be primarily administrative. I think his brief was to tighten budgets and improve efficiency. He had very little contact with the girls and that was how he liked it. I always felt that he never quite moved in, that he was in a rush to get the job done, meet his targets and move on.’

‘What about Teresa Wyatt?’

‘Well of course, there was friction between the two of them. Teresa was passed over for the manager’s job and so was resentful of Richard’s position.’

Wilks tried to stir flavour out of the tea bag. ‘Teresa was not a particularly warm woman and she and Richard clashed immediately. They hated each other and everyone knew it.’

All very interesting, Kim thought, but not explanatory of there being two or possibly three dead girls in the ground.

‘We believe Teresa had a bit of a temper.’

Victor shrugged but said nothing.

‘Did you see any evidence of it?’

‘Not personally, no.’

‘But someone else did?’ Kim pushed.

He hesitated and then opened his hands. ‘I don't see what harm it can do now. Teresa spoke to me about an impending complaint against her. I'd heard whispers that there'd been the occasional slap or push when Teresa's frustration got the better of her but this one was different. She'd actually punched the girl so hard in the stomach she coughed up blood.’

Kim felt her foot begin to tap. She placed her hand on her knee to keep it still.

‘And that was the complaint?’

He shook his head. ‘No, Teresa wasn't as concerned about the assault as she was about what the complainant was going to infer.’

‘Which was?’

‘That Teresa Wyatt had beaten the girl up for refusing to have sex.’

‘And did she?’

Victor looked unsure. ‘I don't think so. Teresa was honest with me about the assault. She admitted exactly what she'd done but swore it was not about sex. She knew that such an allegation would destroy her. Such a slur would have stuck to her name like a leech for the rest of her life.’

Kim closed her eyes and shook her head. The secrets just kept on coming.

‘Who was the complainant?’ Kim asked. She would bet her bike, house, and job that it was one of the three.

‘She didn't say, Detective. The conversation we had was for her benefit only. She wanted to talk it out to straighten things in her own mind.’

Of course she did, Kim thought. God forbid Teresa Wyatt would have given any thought to telling the truth.

‘What about Tom Curtis?’ Bryant asked.

Victor had to think for a moment. ‘Oh, you mean the kitchen cook? He was a bit of a quiet one. He didn’t really clash with anyone. A bit of a sheep, I suppose you’d call him. Got himself told off a couple of times for being a bit too familiar with the girls.’

‘Really?’ Kim asked.

‘He was mid-twenties, the youngest member of staff, so he could relate to them better. Some thought perhaps too well ‒ but it was only rumour, so I’d rather not comment further.’

‘But surely you had an opinion.’

Victor’s face hardened as he held up his right hand. ‘I will not sully the name of a dead man when I myself saw no evidence of impropriety.’

‘Inferring that others did?’ Kim pushed.

‘Not for me to say and I will not speculate.’

‘Understood, Victor,’ Bryant soothed. ‘Please continue.’

‘Mary Andrews was a no-nonsense type of woman who probably gave the girls the majority of attention. She was firm but loving and available too. It wasn’t just a job to Mary.’

‘And Arthur?’

Victor laughed. ‘Oh, Arthur Connop; I’d almost forgotten about him. A rather unfortunate individual, I always felt. I often wondered what must have happened in his life to make him so bitter and hostile. Strange little man, didn’t like anyone.’

‘Particularly William Payne?’ Bryant asked.

Victor scrunched up his nose. ‘Oh, I don’t think it was anything personal. William is a difficult person to dislike. I think Arthur resented the fact that the rest of the staff did things to help William out now and again. He didn't like anyone getting anything he wasn’t.’

‘How did he interact with the girls?’

‘Who, Arthur? Not at all. He hated every single one of them. Because of his nature he was an easy target. They would play tricks on him, hide his tools, that kind of thing.’

‘Did they play tricks on William?’

Victor thought for a moment. Something crossed his face but he shook his head.

‘Not really, because William worked the night shift so his contact with the girls was minimal.’

Kim sat forward. There was something he was not telling them.

‘What can you tell us about the girls there?’

He sat back. ‘They weren’t a bad bunch. Some of them were there only temporarily due to some kind of family situation. Some were placed in care following accusations of child abuse. Others stayed until another family member claimed them and a few had no family members at all.’

‘Do you remember twin girls; Nicola and Bethany?’

A smile came to his eyes. ‘Oh yes. They were beautiful little girls. If I remember correctly, Nicola was the more outgoing of the two. Bethany often hid behind her sister and let her do the talking.

‘They didn’t mix much with the other girls. I suppose because they had each other.’

‘So, there were no problem girls?’ Kim asked. It didn’t sound like any of the children’s homes she’d been in.

‘Of course there were tougher girls. Young ladies that could not be reached. There were three girls in particular ... I’m sorry, I don’t remember their names. They were bad enough separately but once they came together they became a tight little group. They fed off each other and caused all kinds of trouble; stealing, smoking, boys. He looked away. ‘And other things.’

‘What other things?’ Bryant asked.

‘It’s not really for me to say.’

‘Did they hurt someone?’ Kim interjected.

Victor got up and stood at the window. ‘Not so much physically, Detective.’

‘How then?’ she asked, looking towards Bryant.

Victor sighed heavily. ‘They were crueller than most, especially together.’

‘What did they do?’ Kim pushed.

Victor remained at the window. ‘One of the girls lived locally and knew of Lucy. One day the three of them offered to play with the child while William ran some errands.

‘Being a completely trusting person, William took the opportunity to go to the supermarket. When he returned barely an hour later the girls were nowhere to be found and neither was Lucy.

‘He searched the house from top to bottom.’

Victor turned and walked back towards them. ‘Do you know where he found her?’

Kim felt her jaw begin to tighten.

‘They had stripped her naked and forced her small body into the rubbish bin. She didn’t have the muscle strength to get out.’ He swallowed. ‘She was stuck in there for over an hour, covered in rubbish and food and her own dirty nappies. The poor little girl was only three years old.’