‘If what you say is right, what do you think she’s capable of?’
‘From what I’ve learned, she’s capable of anything she puts her mind to. My only problem is that I have no idea how to stop her.’
Disappointment flowed through her. She would never be able to prove this woman’s involvement in the death of Allan Harris, never mind expose any other crimes she may have been a party to.
It was time for her to leave, but she had one question left to ask. ‘David, I can’t help wondering why you’ve been sitting beside that bike for fifteen minutes now and you haven’t touched a thing. Anything I can do?’
He shook his head dismissively. ‘Umm … no offence but the mechanical characteristics of a speedway motorbike are a little out of …’
‘Oh, is that because they have only one gear and no brakes?’
His tone grated on her nerves. Uncharacteristically, she’d been trying to be helpful. Now she had his attention.
‘Or is it because the use of methanol as a fuel allows for increased compression ratio to the engine, producing more power than other fuels, giving higher speeds when cornering? Or …’
‘Will you marry me?’ David asked.
‘Now do you want to tell me what the problem is?’
‘She’s just not starting. I normally turn her over every couple of months but this time she’s not having any of it.’
Kim thought for a moment. ‘Could be the starter motor shorting out. Before spending money on new parts, try running an earthing strip from the starter motor casing to the frame.’
‘You have no idea just how aroused I am right now.’
Kim laughed out loud but was prevented from replying by the presence of Dougie standing beside her. Very gently, he reached down and touched her left hand.
‘Dougie …’ David warned, meeting her questioning eyes. ‘He never touches people.’
Him and me both, Kim thought.
‘It’s okay,’ she said. His skin was cool and soft. He slipped his large hand inside her much smaller one and still didn’t look at her.
A single tear had rolled down his cheek. Kim looked to David for guidance. He shrugged, clearly unsure of this changed behaviour.
Dougie’s grip was firm as he tugged at her hand. Kim detected no malice or danger, just a gentle sadness.
She spoke quietly. ‘Do you want me to come with you, Dougie?’
He nodded while still looking up and to the left.
Kim stood and let him guide her through the kitchen and hallway. His grip on her hand was firm but not threatening. David frowned but followed.
‘Dougie, what are you doing?’ David asked, as the three of them mounted the stairs to the first floor.
He didn’t answer but continued to move forward purposefully. He turned the door handle to his room and pushed the door open.
‘Dougie, you know that ladies aren’t allowed into the rooms.’
Dougie loosed her hand as she stepped inside. His room was similar to that of a twelve-year-old. Posters of fast cars were pinned to the wall at the exact same height around the room. His bed was a three-quarter, covered with a racing car quilt. One shelf was full of Top Gear DVDs. A framed photo of one of the presenters sat on his bedside cabinet. Kim turned to David who shrugged.
‘He loves Jeremy Clarkson, what can I say?’
The shelf beneath the DVDs housed a collection of exercise books. Some were inexpensive flimsy books found in stationery stores and others were ring binders with colourful patterns on the front.
‘He loves writing books. The cheap ones are from me and the others are presents. He doesn’t use them, he just likes having them.’
Dougie stamped his foot twice at David’s words, obviously displeased. Kim saw a pencil tucked behind the photo frame.
‘Are you sure he doesn’t use them?’
David looked as puzzled as she felt. She turned to the gangly male beside her. ‘Dougie, is there something you’d like to show me?’
Dougie counted along the exercise books and took out the third from the left. He didn’t look at the pages but counted to the seventh page and opened it, then passed it to her.
The writing inside was painfully small. Her eyesight was 20/20 but she had to squint to make out some of the words. It was written in script form with a name and then speech marks.
She looked to the book and back up at Dougie. Goosebumps rose from her skin.
‘Dougie, do you have eidetic memory?’
Dougie offered no response.
David was as confused as she. ‘What the …’
She took another look.
‘David, you thought Dougie was lovesick. You thought he was following Alex around because he liked her, but he was recording her every word.’ She tapped her head. ‘In here.’
She leafed through the book. The pages were filled with writing.
She looked back to him, open-mouthed. ‘This incredible, gifted young man knew what she was before anyone else.’
Kim stepped forward and touched his cheek, gently. He did not pull away
Relief and gratitude flooded her body. ‘Thank you for showing me your work.’
Kim read a paragraph in the book, feeling her anger rise as she did.
IT’S BECAUSE YOU ARE A WASTE OF MY TIME. YOU ARE SO DAMAGED THAT YOU WILL NEVER LEAD A REMOTELY NORMAL LIFE. THERE IS NO HOPE FOR YOU. THE NIGHTMARES WILL NEVER GO AWAY AND EVERY BALDING MIDDLE AGED MALE WILL BE YOUR UNCLE. YOU WILL NEVER BE FREE FROM HIM OR WHAT HE DID TO YOU. NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE CONTAMINATED AND THE TORMENT YOU GO THROUGH WILL BE WITH YOU FOREVER
She lifted her eyes from the page. ‘David, who the hell is Shane?’
FIFTY-NINE
The property was two large houses converted to four one-bedroom flats. Nameplates and a bell were mounted in the doorway.
‘Come on, Charlie,’ Dawson moaned. ‘It’s bloody cold out here.’
‘Keep yer knickers on, Kev,’ Stacey said.
She pressed one of the other buttons. ‘Hello, is that Mrs Preece? Could you buzz to open the door. It’s the police and we’re here …’
Stacey stopped talking when the line cut off. She waited for the buzz of the lock being released. It didn’t sound.
Dawson nudged her out of the way.
He pressed another button. ‘Mr Hawkins, I have a delivery from Amazon.’
The buzzer sounded.
Stacey followed him in. ‘How the hell …’
‘Everybody orders stuff from Amazon.’
He turned left and knocked on the door. No answer. Dawson knocked again.
‘This guy is starting to seriously piss me off now. He won’t like the interview if he makes me angry.’
‘What yer gonna do, waterboard him?’
Dawson chuckled. ‘Stace, that was almost funny.’
‘I don’t like this, Kev,’ she said, leaning down. She looked through the letter box. The jacket and shoes Cook had been wearing a couple of nights before were within her view in the hallway.
‘He’s in there but it’s silent. It don’t feel right.’
They knocked together and shouted.
‘For once, Stace, I agree with you. I think we need to get in.’
‘Should we call the fire service?’ Stacey asked.
‘No, we’ll use the equipment instead.’
Dawson raised the extinguisher and aimed it towards the lock.
‘Have you got my package?’ said an elderly voice from the stairs.
‘Postman said he’d got the wrong address,’ Dawson shouted back.
He hit the door hard with the extinguisher. It burst open on impact. Stacey couldn’t help but be impressed.
‘Hey, what are you doing down there?’
‘We’re the police,’ Stacey shouted back as Dawson called for Charlie.
‘Do you have my package?’
‘No, we’re the police,’ Stacey repeated but louder, following Dawson inside.
‘Awww … shit,’ Dawson said, standing in the doorway.