Page 36 of First Blood

Chapter Thirty

By the time Bryant pulled up in front of a high-rise tower in Bilston the air appeared to have cleared between them.

Thankfully the man was not a sulker.

‘Eleventh floor,’ he said, looking up as they got out of the car.

The area of Bilston was first referred to as Bilsatena in AD 985 and in the Domesday Book as a village called Billestune. Two miles southeast of Wolverhampton the area was extensively developed for coal mining and terraced houses built in the nineteenth century to accommodate the labour force. These dwellings had since been replaced with modern houses and flats on developments like Stowlawn, the Lunt and the estate they were now called Bunker’s Hill.

This was one of the nicer tower blocks she’d visited in her time. And although there was an intercom system someone had wedged open the outer door for the benefit of a furniture delivery team.

‘Ooh, lift works,’ Bryant said, as a young couple with a pushchair got out.

They hopped in and Bryant pressed the button to take them up to the eleventh floor.

He sniffed the air. ‘Ah, I know what’s missing. It’s the smell of piss.’

Kim smiled her agreement. Yes, she’d been preparing herself but the only smell was the lingering perfume of the woman who had just got out.

The lift landed and they followed the signage to apartment 11c, where a second intercom greeted them.

Bryant pressed and a crackly voice answered. Kim detected wariness in that one single word.

Bryant introduced them and asked if they could have a quick word.

‘How did you get into the building?’ she asked, still not opening the door.

Kim spoke into the intercom, explaining the delivery van, to signal to the occupant that there was a female presence.

Eventually the door was opened by a woman Kim guessed to be in her early to mid-twenties. Her brown hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail and she wore little make-up.

She pointed to her clothing which was the green uniform of the local superstore.

‘What’s this about? I have to get to work.’

‘May we come in?’

The woman looked behind her as though checking for something. She stepped back and pointed to a door on the left.

Kim stepped into a light and spacious lounge with three-quarter-length windows that had dark, heavy curtains tied back. The room was sparsely furnished with mismatched items that all seemed to bear battle scars. A stain here, a small rip there.

‘I’m sorry to rush you but…’ she said, pointedly tapping her watch.

Kim took a seat on the single chair that had no relationship with the three-seater sofa.

‘Miss Bywater, do?…’

‘Mrs,’ she corrected.

Kim acknowledged the incorrect assumption with a nod and continued.

‘Mrs Bywater, do you know someone by the name of Luke Fenton?’

The colour dropped from her face as she took a seat.

‘How did?… Where?… I mean…’

Kim remained silent, not wishing to divulge that the only contact they could find for their victim was on Facebook.