‘Nope, not kidding, boss,’ Stacey answered. ‘Robbie Steele got through a few schools, one of which was St James. He was there for a year, and it happens to have been a year Nadine Cowley was there too.’
‘Good enough for me. Great work, Stace,’ she said before ending the call.
‘You know, you never say that to me,’ Bryant observed.
‘Say what?’ Kim asked, her mind already chewing over what she’d just been told. The homewrecking motive was a strong one, but she couldn’t ignore the connection Stacey had found.
‘Good job.’
‘Well, what’s that tell you?’
‘Hey, we all like to be appreciated.’
‘Do something useful and I’ll say it to you. Or you could stop having mini tantrums and get us quickly to someone with a link to both of our murdered women.’
He huffed and placed his focus on the road.
But she did give some thought to what he’d said. Maybe she did take Bryant for granted, but plenty of people told him he did a great job, not least for putting up with her every day. For that alone, she often thought Woody might award him a medal. But she supposed it made a difference where the praise was coming from. Kids didn’t want to impress the parents of their schoolmates or their neighbours; they wanted the pats on the back from their own family.
And that was why the bravery award had meant nothing to her. It had come from people whose opinions mattered to her not one bit.
She was saved from considering it further when Bryant pulled up at the home of Robbie Steele and his grandmother.
* * *
‘What the fuck you want now?’ Robbie asked, opening the door before they reached it.
‘A word if you don’t mind,’ Kim said, stepping past him. She tried not to enjoy the fact he flinched as she passed by.
She turned left into the lounge to see Robbie’s grandmother in the single corner seat. On the side table was a mug of tea and a plate with some uneaten toast crusts.
‘Mrs Steele, we just need a quick word with your grandson.’
As she spoke, Bryant produced his identification, and Kim took the time to appraise the woman and what she could see of her skin. There were no bruises visible, but that wasn’t always the case.
Mrs Steele held up her almost empty plate. ‘Thanks, love,’ she said as Robbie took the plate from her.
He tapped her cup. ‘Another?’
‘If the pot’s still warm,’ she said, and he left the room.
‘How are you keeping, Mrs Steele?’ Kim asked, taking a seat. ‘We heard you’d been in the wars a bit.’
The woman coloured but met her gaze. ‘Just a couple of accidents.’
‘Any recent… accidents?’
The woman shook her head as Robbie re-entered the room with a mug of tea.
He placed it on the table and then took a seat. ‘So, what now?’ he asked.
‘We can talk in the kitchen if you’d?—’
‘Ain’t nothing me nan can’t hear. I’ve done fuck all wrong.’
‘Well, we both know that isn’t true, Robbie,’ Kim said, glancing at his nan, who was cringing at his use of language.
‘I’ve told you – she has accidents.’
