‘I’ve seen the photos. You’ve cut her out of the family, but she’s still in your heart. You must still think about her.’
‘Not at all.’
Kim sat back in her chair. ‘I’ve thought about Donna a bit today. I couldn’t recall her at first, but then it started to come back to me. She was never far away from you, was she? A proper little mummy’s girl. The only two girls in a house full of men. She followed you everywhere: your shadow. Are you really that cold that you can throw your child away just because of who she fell in love with?’
‘Donna who?’ Martha said as her nostrils flared.
Kim sighed heavily. ‘What the hell are you not telling me, Martha?’ she asked, wondering who the woman was trying to protect. With one son apparently bedridden with cancer that left only William. Without a shred of evidence against him, she was powerless to act, but she knew she wasn’t getting the whole story of what had taken place.
‘Will you not just tell me the goddamn truth?’ she asked.
Martha regarded her with unabashed hate before the dreaded two words came out of her mouth.
‘No comment.’
Twenty-Three
One of the things Kim loved about the colder months was the fact she could walk Barney earlier in the evening without much chance of meeting other dog walkers. With less than a month until Christmas, even seasoned dog walkers were finding excuses to forego the daily walks. ‘Oh, she’s so comfy by the fire’ or ‘It’s a bit nippy on his paws tonight’ instead of the truth: they just wanted to cosy up in a room of warm fires, hot chocolate and twinkling lights.
A scene that might appeal to most people but not her. In her opinion, enjoyment of Christmas was a learned behaviour. To appreciate the magic as an adult, one had to have experienced it as a child. She couldn’t recall any time in her life when she’d believed in flying reindeer or that it was possible to deliver a present to all children in one night. She didn’t have that magic to balance the reason Christmas was significant to her now.
It was recognised by all forces across the country that crime increased substantially during the festive period. Darker nights, people out at social events, expensive presents under the tree all contributed to statistical spikes. Domestic violence reports were always higher around the holiday period, and drink-driving arrests went off the charts. Very few reasons to celebrate as far as she was concerned… unlike Mother’s Day, which annually had the lowest crime rate of the year.
The previous year, Bryant had turned up at her house on Christmas Eve with a potted Christmas tree and his annual invitation to lunch. He had no real expectation of her accepting. Much as she loved Jenny’s cooking, she was not prepared to inflict her indifference to the sentiment, religious significance and big guy in a red suit onto anyone else. She had, however, turned on the little lights on the tree for Barney’s entertainment. He had been more interested in the fact they had the park to themselves on Christmas morning.
They occasionally came across other dogs, but she normally had enough time to walk away before Barney became too reactive.
In all the time she’d had him, she’d never been able to alter his reaction to other dogs and had wondered if she was doing him a disservice by not using behaviourists or medication so he could go to doggy day care and mix with his own kind. But the truth was that she wasn’t prepared to put him through the stress. He was what he was, and she loved him that way. He was a people dog. He loved his best friend, Charlie. He was always excited to see his groomer, Dawn. He trusted Bryant, and hell, he even liked Frost. She supposed even Barney was allowed one error in judgement.
She reached the park and saw there was one other dogwalker in the distance.
‘On the lead for now, boy,’ she said, stepping on to the grass.
She’d only reached the swings when her phone sounded in her pocket. Her heart always jumped in case it was Keats and then relaxed when it wasn’t. Although she had to wonder why this particular person was calling her at ten o’clock at night.
‘Stone,’ she answered automatically.
‘Only you, Stone, could be tasked with tying up a loose end and then decide to unravel the whole thread.’
‘Sir?’ she asked, wondering what her boss was talking about and why he was talking about it right now.
‘Just listen to her. That’s all you had to do. Now the activity log states you visited her home, after she’d confessed to the crime.’
Her thoroughness didn’t normally earn her a late-night phone call dripping with annoyance.
‘Yeah, something she said got me thinking,’ she explained.
‘Well, she won’t be saying a lot else. She’s requested her solicitor, and you know what he’s going to advise from this point forward.’
‘No comment,’ she answered because the woman had already said it.
‘Precisely, but it doesn’t really matter. We’ve got everything we need.’
‘Sir, something’s not right,’ she protested. ‘There’s no trace of GSR on her clothes, hands or mucus. I don’t think?—’
‘I thought that was what you were going to say, so I took the precaution of ringing Mitch first. There are extreme circumstances where GSR doesn’t register.’
‘Just give me a couple of days. At least hang on until ballistics is back. We can easily get an extension to?—’
