Page 7 of Stolen Ones

‘And he’s here voluntarily?’ Stacey asked doubtfully.

‘Not only is he here but he’s in no great hurry to leave,’ she said as Jack entered the room and placed a cup of tea on the table.

‘But why?’ Bryant asked.

‘Exactly what I want to know,’ Kim said, turning to her team.

‘Stace, I want to know everything about Steven Harte, and Penn, I want you to record him and watch him until your eyes bleed. If he makes one move to leave, you delay him or stick with him. Got it?’

‘Got it, boss,’ he said, taking a seat.

‘Bryant, we’re now off to Netherton,’ she said, reaching for her jacket.

She took one last look at the figure on the computer screen.

As if sensing her attention, he raised his hand to the camera and gave her a little wave.

Three

Alexandra Thorne replaced the receiver for the second time that day and tried not to show her annoyance. Any kind of strong emotion would not serve her well this week.

To get what she wanted she had no choice but to maintain the charade that had been exhausting her for the last four and a half years.

But why wouldn’t the damn woman take her call? she seethed, heading back to her cell.

No matter how diligently she planned her next move, DI Stone always managed to be the fly in the ointment.

She’d timed her approach to the detective perfectly, to coincide with her plan. She’d also bargained on the woman’s curiosity getting the better of her and taking the call, but it appeared that this time DI Stone was playing hard to get.

The police officer had no idea what information Alexandra was now holding. The thought put a smile back on her face. She had knowledge that could change the woman’s whole life. And she would share it. For a price.

The time that she’d invested in the scheme had yielded better results than she could ever have imagined. She had learned more than she’d ever hoped for, and the time had come for her to use the leverage. All she needed now was to get Stone on the phone and the rest would fall into place.

‘Damn you for making this harder than it need be,’ she whispered to herself as she entered her cell.

Her loyal and obliging cellmate lay on the bed reading a battered Jackie Collins novel.

Emma Mitchell had been an invaluable source of information to her for the last eighteen months.

Emma was what Alex liked to call one of life’s ‘likeables’. Slim and attractive, her physical appearance was non-threatening and non-confrontational. She had a ready smile and a pleasant demeanour that allowed her to fade. Whether intentional or not, it afforded her the luxury of being ignored most of the time, which kept her out of trouble and enabled her to float around listening to conversations and gaining intelligence. Most of which Alex had stored for future use.

‘Out,’ Alex instructed, sitting on her own bed. For her next move, she wanted privacy.

‘Aww…come on – this is just getting juicy,’ she said, waving the book about.

‘Save it for bedtime then,’ Alex said, offering her non-negotiable look.

Emma rolled her eyes, closed the book and sloped off the bed.

Alex waited until she was out of the room before she retrieved the A4 exercise book and pen from beneath her pillow.

For the hundredth time, Alex marvelled at the irony of the life she’d had on the outside: a flourishing career as a respected psychiatrist, a full appointment book, a nice house, a flashy car and more money than she knew what to do with. She had been able to buy anything she wanted, whenever she wanted. And now she had to beg for the most basic of necessities like a notebook and pen.

The book was allegedly her journal, her reflection of events that had led to her incarceration. A necessary part of her rehabilitation. It was nothing of the sort. It was a record of every detail she’d learned over the years about inmates and officers alike. It was her power. It held names, dates, events and most likely her ticket to freedom. It was like currency she’d been saving for a rainy day, and that storm was due to hit later this week.

She shouldn’t be surprised that Stone was getting in her way again. It was all she’d done since the minute they’d met. And for that she deserved every minute of the torture she’d inflicted and intended to continue inflicting. The fact that the woman’s psyche was battered and covered with scar tissue only added to her enjoyment. She knew she had the power to break the detective apart; it was just knowing which particular vulnerability would seal the deal. She looked forward to that day, but for now she just needed to get her to take her call.

And this book was going to help her do just that. Now, which of her assets was she willing to sacrifice to execute the next part of her plan?