Deadly Cry (DI Kim Stone #13) - Angela Marsons Page 0,65

the child. I had taken the child.

But now what to do with him? He has seen my face. He can identify me.

There is only one choice, I feel, as my palm wraps around the kitchen knife. I am horrified but I cannot let him live now.

With each step that takes me closer to the door, the weight upon my shoulders increases. The grip around my heart tightens, but I can’t allow him to destroy everything.

My free hand closes around the door handle. I take deep breaths and try not to visualise what I have to do. I will count myself down.

Three.

Two.

My phone sounds the receipt of a Google notification. I have only two alerts: one for murder and one for DI Stone. Which one has raised the alarm?

I falter for a second. I must not put off what I have to do. The child cannot live. I take a final deep breath.

Three.

Two.

Murder or DI Stone. Which one?

Damn it. I have to see.

I swap the knife to my other hand and take out my phone. I refuse to put down the blade. That is defeat. I can do this. I must do this. Soon.

The alert is for DI Stone. She has been quoted in an article by a local reporter. Not a national but Tracy Frost from the Dudley Star.

I skim over the narrative. I’m not interested in those empty words and look only for what she has to say. That’s all that matters to me.

‘…fear for the safety of innocent child…’

‘…no need for Archie to get hurt…’

‘…Archie has unwittingly become an innocent party…’

‘…Don’t want to hurt him…’

‘…good reason for what he’s doing…’

‘…welcome opportunity to talk…’

I am surprised at her empathy, her compassion. I know that I was right to trust her, to seek her help. She understands. She knows that I don’t want to hurt the boy, but…

A second alert sounds. Murder.

I scroll to the article and the screaming headline tells me everything I need to know.

Local Ex-Soap Star Found Murdered in the Woods

I put down the knife and reach for the phone. My other phone. The message is there, but I already knew it would be.

Now I know what I have to do. It’s the only thing that makes sense, I realise, as I head once more for the door.

Sixty-Five

‘You okay?’ Stacey asked once Penn had left the room to call Jasper. It was after seven and it didn’t look like they were leaving any time soon.

‘I’m fine, Stace,’ Alison replied, looking anything but fine. A Wagon Wheel had been sitting on her desk untouched for over an hour.

‘You could always just leave,’ Stacey offered, speaking as a friend instead of a colleague. ‘None of this has to be your problem.’

The woman wasn’t even getting paid for the privilege of being shouted at twice in one day. Once separately for not giving her honest opinion and again when the boss had scolded them collectively.

Right now, Stacey felt like walking out herself, but she wouldn’t because deep down she knew the boss was right. There were things here they were missing, and they weren’t trying hard enough to find them.

Problem was: twelve hours in and they were all bloody shattered.

‘I still think we’re missing something about Noah,’ Penn said as he re-entered the room. ‘I just think we can’t see the wood for the trees,’ he continued, pacing up and down the office.

‘Maybe we’re making it all too complicated and overthinking things,’ Stacey added.

He paused for a second. ‘Ladies, grab your phones and come with me.’

Stacey looked at Alison who frowned in response.

Stacey shrugged and grabbed her phone. She felt as though her behind had been glued to the chair for days. Alison did the same.

‘Okay, ladies, we’re going for a walk,’ he said as they headed out the automatic doors.

‘Clears the cobwebs from the head.’

‘Err… where exactly are we going?’ Stacey asked. It was a concrete building with a car park. Hardly the Clent Hills.

‘We’re gonna get some fresh air and do circuits of the building to get the blood pumping to our brains.’

Stacey couldn’t help the smile that came to her lips. Her colleague really was crazy sometimes. She pulled her cardigan tighter around herself. The sun was setting on what had been a cold and miserable day.

‘Clockwise or anti-clockwise?’ she asked.

‘Anti,’ he answered. ‘I’m feeling like a bit of a rebel.’

They all turned and began walking the other way with Penn in the middle. ‘Let’s break this down and go through it piece by piece.’ He turned