Page 32 of Little Children (Detective Kim Stone #22)

Thirty-One

Bryant wasn’t surprised when Roy Moss sidled in behind him. It was what the boss had been hoping for.

‘Fucking hell, mate. That bitch treats you like shit. Wouldn’t you just love to smack her one?’

‘Just treading water, mate,’ Bryant replied without looking at him.

If he could pull this off, he’d be making an application to drama school.

The only person he wanted to smack right now was the man getting mugs out of the cupboard.

Every atom of his being despised Moss’s thoughts, actions and attitude, and having to bite his tongue was proving near impossible, even though they needed Moss to do it to expose him.

So far he’d indirectly insulted both Stacey and the guv, leaving only Penn up for grabs…

but being a straight white male, he wasn’t going to warrant too much attention.

Moss followed his lead and lined up the mugs for his own team, then frowned. ‘Shit, don’t really know if they have sugar or not. Carly always makes them.’

Of course she did, Bryant thought.

Bryant knew he wasn’t perfect when it came to police conduct.

Over the years, he’d laughed at inappropriate jokes or failed to speak up on someone’s behalf when maybe he should have done, but as the system had improved and evolved, he’d been more than happy to evolve with it.

And never, not once, had he abused his position as a police officer for his own gain, either with his team or with the public.

They’d been given the names of three people to speak to, and it was Moss who was involved in the worst of those three cases.

The broken demeanour of Pippa Jacobs would stay with Bryant for a very long time.

He wanted to run to the chief himself and lay bare what they’d learned, but he knew the guv was right. They didn’t have enough, and they had no one to back them up.

‘Hey, I know what’ll cheer you up,’ Roy said, taking out his phone.

Bryant continued to make drinks for his team.

‘Feast your eyes on this,’ Moss said, looking around furtively before showing Bryant the screen.

On it was the image of a woman in her mid-twenties. Her trousers were around her ankles, and her shirt had been ripped open, exposing her breasts. She was lying amongst dead leaves and weeds. And she was dead.

Bryant worked hard to keep his rage from boiling over and forced his face to remain impassive. He stared at the screen not because he wanted to but because he honestly couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

‘Last big case. Rape and murder. Not much of a looker but great tits.’

Bryant thought he was going to throw up.

He nodded in agreement before looking away as a wave of self-loathing swept over him. He had to focus on the bigger picture. If he knocked the guy out right now, he’d be removed from the case and robbed of the chance to find something that would definitely send this bastard down.

‘Did you catch him?’ Bryant asked, stirring the tea.

‘Nah, nothing physical left behind. Bastard got away with it.’

‘What was her name?’ he asked, trying desperately to uncover just one shred of humanity in the bloke.

‘Dunno. Layla, Lucy or something.’

‘Got any more?’ Bryant asked, praying for him to say no.

‘I only take the good ones. Gotta have something to remember them by, and you gotta make your own fun in this job. You?’ Moss asked.

‘I’m shit at not getting caught,’ Bryant said, trying to put the image out of his mind.

He couldn’t bear the thought of the victim’s family not even knowing that their loved one was suffering this final indignity.

‘My boss would catch me if she was half a mile away. Got eyes in the back of her head.’

‘Yeah, doesn’t surprise me,’ Moss said, pouring water into the mugs in front of him. ‘She wouldn’t last long if she was my boss,’ he added as Bryant picked up the tray.

Bryant bit his lip hard to prevent any retort coming out of his mouth, then headed back into the squad room, wondering how the hell he was going to keep this up.