Page 125 of First Blood

‘Bryant and I were in there for an hour. Once he started talking he couldn’t stop. Pretty horrific, sir. His mum died when he was five and a half and the abuse started about six months later.’

Kim couldn’t help but feel for the six-year-old boy grieving for his mum and then being subjected to such horrific acts by the one person left in the world to protect him.

‘His father would read him the same book of nursery rhymes every night before abusing him. Nigel came to hate those rhymes as he knew what came next. There was no innocence in the little ditties, just darkness and fear.’

‘And the grown man held a knife to your colleague’s throat,’ Woody said, bringing her back to reality.

To her the boy and the man were two separate people. Nigel the man had cold-heartedly murdered six people while convincing himself he was providing a service. Nigel the boy was still terrified and trying to make himself invisible beneath the bed covers.

Woody’s reminder of what he’d done was unnecessary. The picture had been in her mind ever since. Bryant had been put in that position because of her. She had decided to enter the building and he had followed her.

‘He’s a grown man,’ Woody said, as though reading her thoughts. ‘And you’re a grown woman and although I don’t blame you for what happened to Bryant I do think your decision to enter the building was foolhardy at best, for your own safety.’

‘The man was dying, sir,’ she said, simply.

He accepted her point.

‘So, you know what comes next. I assume you’ve heard about the CID team at Wolverhampton?’

She nodded. Following the failure of the team to identify that Butcher Bill was not the murderer and their willingness to accept such a flimsy confession, the team of six had been disbanded. And they all needed to go somewhere.

‘There are some good people going spare,’ he added, unnecessarily.

She knew and had worked with at least three of them.

‘It’s time to pick and choose.’

She considered the bright lights who were being reassigned.

Spencer Adkins was a DS in his early forties and had one of the highest arrest rates in the borough. He was unmarried, diligent and needed little to no supervision. He was first at his desk and last to leave and always had a kind word for everyone.

Rory Mason was a DS in his mid-twenties whose ambition and drive did not distract him from the job at hand. He responded well to supervision, was respectful and worked hard.

Lisette Wilson was an Oxford University graduate in her early thirties with a brain that could analyse and separate data like a piece of software. She was married with one child and although mainly office bound had contributed to more successful prosecutions than anyone Kim had ever worked with.

She considered the team she’d been given at the beginning of the week.

DC Stacey Wood, inexperienced, nervous, squeamish at a crime scene, lacking in confidence. And yet she had suffered her colleague’s inertia without a word of complaint. She had stayed at her desk until told otherwise and had contributed wholeheartedly and consistently throughout the week. What she had lacked in experience she had made up for with enthusiasm and integrity.

DS Kevin Dawson, arrogant to the point of cocky, sarcastic, insubordinate and at times insufferable. He had challenged her at every turn throughout the week. Clearly the man had been experiencing some kind of personal crisis at home, but still he’d had moments of brilliance. His determination to find the link between the anomalies at the crime scenes had led to the nursery rhyme theory. Kim had berated herself for not listening sooner because the theory had come from him. That was a reflection on her own quick judgement of his character and she would not let it happen again with any team member. She knew they would have never found Doctor Lambert in time without Dawson.

And finally, DS Bryant. The man had been at her side the whole week. He lacked ambition and was not the most dynamic officer she’d worked with. His demeanour while not forceful was steadying, fair and sensible. He was not easily offended, which could only go in his favour. The man had ended his first week with a knife to his throat and hadn’t moaned about it once.

The team as a whole was inexperienced, unpolished and statistically way behind the three officers who needed a home.

She met Woody’s gaze, signalling she was ready with her response.

‘So, tell me, Stone. Who do you want to lose and who do you want to keep?’

She took a breath before she answered. ‘Sir, I want to keep them all.’

* * *