‘Oh, and Kimmy, Mummy said hi.’
FIFTY-SEVEN
Kim let herself back into the house, the meeting still ringing in her ears. She had run two red lights and overtaken anything that had stood in her way. The recklessness had not exorcised the rage from her body and the urge to hurt something remained.
‘Fuck that fucking woman,’ she shouted, throwing her jacket at the coffee table. A magazine and two spark plugs skidded to the floor.
Barney walked towards her, wagging his tail, seemingly impervious to her mood.
‘If you know what’s good for you, stay out of my way,’ she advised.
Barney followed her into the kitchen as though he knew he was in no danger from her. And he was right.
Barney reacted with the same enthusiasm he did every time she came home. A few tail wags and then he sat in front of the second cupboard door: the food cupboard.
Kim switched on the kettle and sat at the dining table. She had considered stepping into the garage but her mind was still ablaze with questions.
Barney sat and leaned against her leg the same way he had when she’d visited his old master. But this time her hand found its way to the top of his head. He remained still beneath the stroking movement of her palm.
She admitted that not all of her anger was aimed at the doctor.
Never had she felt so constricted. Two cases were constantly moving out of her grasp.
The private life of Leonard Dunn had been evaluated countless times. They had interviewed hundreds of people during the initial investigation that had led to his arrest and now they were chasing a ghost. Everyone was a potential suspect and, with dread, she knew what she had to do.
She took out her phone and tapped a few names into the list key.
Brett Lovett from Car Spares National.
Charles Cook from Blackheath.
Wendy Dunn.
Robin Parks.
She knew she was on borrowed time with the Dunn investigation. New cases were landing on her desk every day. Each time Woody asked to see her, she braced herself for the instruction to shelve the Dunn case. She dreaded hearing that order from his mouth. Because she knew she couldn’t comply.
She would not stop until she found the person who had stood in that room and watched a young girl being abused by her father. At the least, that person had left the house knowing it would happen again and yet had failed to come to the police station. At worst … well, that didn’t bear thinking about.
Kim opened her mouth to slacken her jaw. The tension had travelled there and rested.
No, she would never let it rest. Not until she found the bastard.
And then there was the case she was flying solo.
She knew that their next meeting would not be so civilised. In the meantime, she would need to devise some kind of mental armour to keep Alex out. Ted had advised her to steer clear. He had advised her to ‘run faster’.
The woman seemed to know everything about her. The gloves were off between them now and a small part of her was relieved that she had been right about Alex all along. Now she had to find a way to prove it.
Kim fired up Yahoo and again plugged the doctor’s name into a search. The first time she’d done this she had only entered the websites with official articles either about Alex or written by her, but as she scrolled through the results she hit websites where the doctor had been named.
She entered website after blog after chat room, ferreting out the references to the doctor. Forty minutes later, Kim was considering nominating Alex for a Nobel Peace Prize. The statements were gushing, and in some cases reverent.
Kim refilled her coffee mug thinking, Jesus, I’m trying to nail Mother Theresa. She got back to it and eventually found a post that grabbed her attention.
It was almost hidden in a chat room hyperlinked from an agoraphobia website and simply asked if anyone had ever been treated by Doctor Thorne. Kim counted seventeen responses, all positive, but she saw no return post from the person who had started the thread.
Kim accepted this was no smoking gun, but the poster, DaiHard137, had asked the question for a reason. The fact there was no further post indicated that the poster hadn’t received the response they’d been hoping for. If DaiHard137 wished to compliment the doctor, why no second post agreeing with all the plaudits that had followed?
A knot of excitement grumbled in her stomach and then died. There was no way in hell of finding out who DaiHard137 was. Of course, there were people in the Tech department at the station who could probably track the user in minutes but her request for the search would create an audit trail straight back to Woody’s office.
She took out a fresh notepad and began writing notes on every contact she’d had with the doctor, trying her best to recall where each conversation had taken place. Kim’s pen hovered above the page as she recalled their meeting at Alex’s practice. The female patient she had passed on the way out; the one who had disturbed their meeting. There was something familiar about her. Kim tried to recall more detail from her memory but she’d been distracted. She could visualise the face: nervous, anxious, but she just couldn’t place it.
Kim left the desk and walked around the room, ticking off the possibilities. She wasn’t a witness, Kim knew they had not spoken, so that ruled out any of the cases she’d worked on. She considered that the female was familiar to her from around town but she dismissed this.
Court. The word bounded into her mind. It wasn’t one of her cases but it suddenly clicked into place.
She dialled Bryant’s number. He answered on the second ring.
‘Bryant, cast your mind back to that fraud case a couple of weeks ago. What other cases were being tried?’
Bryant would know. He’d been talking to one of the victim-support officers. Bryant talked to everyone.
‘Err … an aggravated burglary and a child abuse case.’
That was it. The female she’d seen coming out of Alex’s office had most likely been court-ordered to attend therapy.
‘Thanks, Bryant.’
She hung up before he could ask any questions.
As her excitement began to grow, so did the fear. She was treating a woman who had already caused or allowed harm to her child. And that was before Alex got started on her. She dreaded to think what Jessica could do under the care of Alex.
Kim’s head fell into her hands. No one was going to believe her. What was she supposed to do? How could she track down this woman and if she did, what the hell would she say?
She rubbed her eyes and glanced back at the computer screen. Her mouth fell open. ‘Are you kidding me?’ she said aloud.
Barney obviously thought she was talking to him. He jumped from the sofa and sat beside her. Her left arm fell to her side and absently started stroking his head.
‘No way,’ she breathed, looking again at the name of the poster on that thread. She’d thought DaiHard137 was a pretty clever name and it was, especially if your name was David Hardwick of Hardwick House.
FIFTY-EIGHT
The face of the man that opened the door was immediately confused. ‘Detective Inspector?’
Kim had considered a call to Woody to alert him to her fears but still she had no proof to offer. She was hoping she could find something here.
‘You remember me?’ She asked.
‘Of course. It was a memorable evening for us all. Is there a problem?’
With the people housed within these walls, Kim supposed that police knocking on the door was a constant threat.
She shook her head. ‘May I come in?’
‘Of course.’
He held the door open for her and she walked past. The clean odour of pine emanated from his skin.
‘Come through to the kitchen.’
She followed him and sat down. He placed himself on the other side of the worn wooden table. A tall man appeared in the doorway. He wore light-coloured jeans and a sweatshirt bearing the name of a university. His eyes looked up and to the left and he tapped his two index fingers together.