Page 34 of Deadly Cry

‘Louise Webb-Harvey, 44 Charleston Way, Wollescote.’

‘Thanks,’ she said, turning to Keats who answered before she opened her mouth.

‘In the morning. Nine sharp. Will I be seeing you or the strange fellow?’

‘Aww, Keats, are you missing me?’ she asked, glancing sideways.

‘Emphatically, no. Please, send Penn; I like him much more than I like you.’

‘Keats, you like everyone more than you like me,’ she said, turning away.

‘Well, maybe you should take yourself into a corner for a good, hard look at yourself.’

‘If only I cared,’ she threw back over her shoulder.

Bryant walked beside her and, as ever, he seemed to know when she needed silence and, right now, she wanted a minute or two with her own thoughts.

Two young, married women killed in as many days. The method and manner exactly the same. Nothing taken and nothing interfered with. No passion or rage. Just death.

There were cases that were more about the killer than they were about the victim. Had either Katrina or Louise done anything wrong?

But then her mind wondered: if the crime had nothing to do with the victim, why were they so similar? Why not a male, younger or older? Had both women just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Had he watched them and chosen them for a reason she did not yet know?

And if the letter was from him, why was he begging her to catch him before he killed again if he knew he was going to take another life so soon? Despite her irritation at Stacey and Penn, she knew there was no way they could have prevented this even if they’d ripped the letter out the postman’s hand.

And if she didn’t catch him soon, how the hell did she know who was going to die next?

Twenty-Nine

Stacey replaced the receiver as Penn entered the room with a handful of snacks.

Although it was after five, the call from the boss naming the second victim had meant no one was leaving the office for a while yet.

‘Monster Munch and Twix, please,’ she said, eyeing his booty.

After the call from the boss, he’d made a quick call to Jasper before offering to grab whatever he could from the vending machine to keep them going.

He threw her requested items across the desk and reached for his headphones.

‘Jasper okay?’ she asked, opening the packet of crisps first. Even as a poor substitute for an evening meal, it was savoury before sweet.

‘He’s fine,’ Penn answered, wrinkling his nose as she crunched on a pickled onion flavoured giant claw.

‘How the hell do you eat those?’ he asked, shaking his head.

Pickled onion was her favourite flavour even though the smell stayed with her for hours.

‘Devon won’t come near me if I’ve eaten these and, seeing as I’m stuck here for now, I’ll make the most of it. She went on an overnight course last week, so guess what I binged on?’

‘Stace, you kill me.’ He chuckled.

‘What?’

‘Your partner is away overnight and your idea of living it up is stinky Monster Munch?’

She laughed with him. Yes, he had a point.

Again, he’d refused her given opportunity to talk. It was clear to her that Jasper had been offering one-word responses to his questions, and even though he’d said more, it was so unlike the usual banter that would lift Penn’s mouth without him even realising.