Page 117 of Silent Scream

He shrugged. ‘Told her the truth, Guv,’ he said, simply.

Kim visualised the dogs in his home being fussed over and spoilt.

She shook her head with despair. ‘Okay, now drop me off at the station then get to the hospital. One of us needs to be there to question Croft if the opportunity arises.’

‘You not coming?’

Kim shook her head. ‘Probably not a good idea. It may be just paranoia on my part, but I don’t think Mrs Croft likes me all that much.’

Fifty-Nine

The roarof the Ninja died as Kim pulled onto the dirt track. She removed the helmet and placed it over the right handlebar.

She surveyed the site from the top of the hill. Site one and two had been handed back to the landscape and the utility tent had been removed. The heras fencing no longer lined the property and the press had left the area. The police guard was gone and a few bits of equipment were gathered in the top corner of the site. Once again, it was a piece of spare council land where the travelling fair rested annually to entertain the estate.

Only a few teddy bears and weather-beaten flowers left at the foot of the hill offered any hints to the events of the last few days.

This part of the investigation was over. The clues from the dead had been uncovered and now it was up to her and her team to fit it all together.

One day the names of these three girls would be plastered across a Wikipedia page. It would be a link from the main article depicting Black Country history. The triple murder would forever be a blemish on their heritage.

Readers would skate past the article describing the achievements of the Netherton chain makers who had forged the anchors and chains for theTitanicand the twenty Shire horses that had pulled the one hundred tonne load through the town.

The metalworking trade that dated back to the sixteenth century would be forgotten in the face of such a sensational headline.

It would not be a record of the area’s finer moments.

‘Thought that might be you, Guv,’ Dawson said, exiting the tent.

His eyes were being propped up by dark circles. His jeans were dirty and his jumper creased but his hours on site and the commitment to the case had earned him the right to look a little worn.

Kim wanted to compliment him on a job well done but somehow the words stuck in her throat. Normally the day after she gave him a pat on the back he found some new way to piss her off again.

‘Dawson, I’ve gotta say, you frustrate the bloody life out of me. You’re a damn good detective but sometimes you act like a three-year-old.’ She stopped. This wasn’t coming out quite how she’d intended. ‘Look, I know this week has been difficult for you but in spite of that you’ve been a bloody star.’

Dawson threw back his head and laughed. ‘Thanks, Guv. Coming from you, that means a lot.’

‘I mean it, Kev.’

Their eyes met. He knew it.

‘Listen, take tomorrow off. We’ve all worked eight days straight. Saturday morning we’ll spend a few hours over coffee and muffins, Bryant’s shout, analysing what we have, and make an action plan for next week.’

‘It’s been a week, Guv. You still framing me for it?’

She shook her head. ‘Nah, I’m thinking Bryant’s a better fit.’

She entered the last remaining tent to find Cerys alone at the fold-up table beside the grave.

‘Lost all your friends, Cerys?’ Kim asked.

Cerys turned and smiled. ‘My staff are at the hotel packing up to hit the road. It’s been a full-on week.’

Kim nodded her agreement. ‘And you?’

Cerys sighed deeply. ‘Not quite. This grave will be completed in a couple of hours. I don’t think there’s anything left to find. Our third victim was not buried as deep as the others but I like to be thorough.’

‘So, you’ll be leaving later?’ Kim asked.