Page 75 of First Blood

The woman holding the door was around five foot four with freckles and a mass of red curls that were being left to do as they pleased.

Kim held up her identification and introduced them both.

‘May we come in?’

The woman’s face remained creased in suspicion and she didn’t move an inch.

‘Mrs Roberts, it’s regarding Mia, and her mother.’

Still the woman hesitated but she moved aside.

Kim stepped into a hallway that was littered with coats, scarves, wellington boots. Three different sizes, she noted and a lot of pink.

‘Please come through,’ she said, leading them to a conservatory at the back of the house.

A cup of coffee sat beside an open crossword puzzle book.

‘A little time to myself before fetching the girls.’

‘And how many girls do you have?’ Kim asked.

‘Three including Mia,’ she said, taking a seat on the single wicker chair.

Both Kim and Bryant sat on the two-seater opposite looking out onto a garden that although not huge managed to accommodate a small patio area, a square of lawn, a slide, trampoline and cosy summer house right at the end.

Kim already liked the way the woman had included Mia in her list of children.

‘I’m afraid I have some bad news which I must ask you to keep to yourself.’

‘Okay,’ she said, sitting forward.

‘Hayley Smart is dead.’

The woman’s hand rose straight to her open mouth which mirrored the roundness of her eyes.

‘Oh my God, how, where? I mean. Are you sure?’

Kim nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. I can’t divulge much detail but she was murdered some time last night.’

The woman started to shake her head, and Kim noticed a slight tremble to her hand as she pushed an errant curl behind her ear.

‘We’d really like an opportunity to speak to Mia if—’

‘Absolutely not,’ the woman said, straightening. ‘That child has been through enough. I’ll explain about her mother but I’m not letting you anywhere near her.’

Kim hadn’t considered this. Whereas Bryant clearly had when he’d made that crack about not having kids. For a foster parent Mrs Roberts seemed very protective of her charge.

Kim couldn’t help remembering some of her own foster families, who had taken in kids for many different reasons, very few of them altruistic and would have let her speak to anyone. Except for Keith and Erica who would have protected her with their lives.

‘I understand that you want to safeguard your charge,’ Kim said, offering a gentle reminder.

‘Please don’t call her that,’ she said with distaste. ‘This is the third time Mia has been with us. The previous two times were due to her mother serving prison time. She was with us for four months when she was seven years old. She didn’t speak for the first three of those months and we didn’t try to force her. She was behind in all her school subjects and was placed into a lower year at school. Just when we thought we were making progress her mother was released and Mia was returned to her. I won’t lie, Inspector. It all but broke my heart.’

‘And the second time?’ Kim asked.

‘About a year later and Mia had regressed even further. Wetting the bed, silent, totally withdrawn and at times hostile. On that occasion, we never heard her speak once.’

‘And you took her a third time?’ Kim asked.