FORTY-FIVE

9.05 P.M.

‘What the hell?’ Kim cried as they reached the top of the hill.

Her first thought upon seeing the dancing torch beams was some kind of night-time pagan ritual. She knew the religion was practised in other areas of the Black Country, but she hadn’t heard of it on the Clent hills.

She was sure Bryant would have replied if he’d had enough breath left in his body. Her own voice was little more than a croak.

But her fatigue was forgotten as she headed towards the six figures bathed in torchlight around the Four Stones. Thankfully, they were all fully dressed, and one of them was holding a box.

‘Do not open that box,’ she shouted, fixing the holder with her most intimidating stare.

‘Hand it over,’ she went on, barging into the middle of the group.

The man holding the box just about reached her shoulder and pulled the box into his midriff protectively. Already she could see it was a bigger box than the last one.

‘Why should I?’

‘Because of this,’ Bryant said, shoving his warrant card into the man’s face.

Her colleague had recovered quicker than she’d anticipated.

‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ the man said petulantly, holding the box tighter.

‘Name?’ Bryant asked, taking out his notebook.

There was no way he could see to write anything down, but the action had the desired effect.

‘Barnaby Kett. This is my husband, Jeremiah Kett.’

One of the others raised his hand.

‘And the rest?’

‘We’re part of a night ramblers group. I’m not giving up the box. Finders keepers. You’re not a rambler, so why do you want it?’

‘Did someone send you?’ Kim asked, wondering if this was yet another of the Jester’s distractions.

The puzzlement on his face was genuine. ‘Send us? We do this twice a month.’

Jeez, it was just her luck to run into a group of folks who liked to ramble in the dark. How many other weird hobbies were going on right under her nose that she didn’t know about?

The man looked down at the box and then back at her. ‘You’ve really piqued my interest as to what’s inside it now. Do you have a warrant to take it from me because if not, I think I’m going to keep it.’

Kim didn’t generally like to believe in stereotypes, but there was definitely some short-man energy about Barnaby Kett right now. She had no choice but to match it with some tall-girl energy of her own.

‘Mr Kett, I’m gonna level with you. I am having a really shit day. I’ve been up for what seems like days, I’ve done more miles around the Black Country than the local bus service, people have pissed me off, I’ve pissed off other people and I’ve had nowhere near enough coffee to be dealing with this shit. So I am taking that box from you even if I have to wrestle you to the ground. Do you understand?’

He thrust it towards her at last, and she was glad he’d taken that route. Not because she’d offered an empty threat but because it would have been another complaint for Woody to question her about. God only knew how many she was going to accrue before they found this sicko.

‘We’ll take it to the car,’ Kim said, turning away from Barnaby Kett.

‘Should we add his name to the list, guv?’ Bryant asked as they walked away.

‘In my current mood, I’m gonna add the name of the girl who served us coffee at the drive-thru to the list.’

‘Gemma?’ he asked.

‘You know her?’

‘Name badge.’

She shook her head. Over fourteen hours in, and he was still noting the small details.

Using their phones for light, they traversed the path back to the car, choosing to concentrate instead of speaking.

‘Put the light on,’ she said once they were back in the car. ‘And shine your phone torch here.’

Bryant did as she asked.

She opened the box and almost gagged as Bryant let out a small groan.

Lolling around the box with no effort to even package it was a dirty severed thumb, with no nail.

‘And a video camera this time,’ Bryant noted.

‘No prizes for guessing what that’s gonna show.’

‘Do we need to?—’

‘Yes, Bryant, we do,’ she said, taking the old-fashioned Sony camcorder from the box. She already knew the envelope would contain the next clue.

She took a breath before pressing Play.

The sound registered before the visual. Hiccup was already screaming.

From his position, he must have known what was about to happen.

The camera was positioned above his hand, which had been secured to keep the thumb as far apart as possible from the rest of the fingers.

‘No… no… please don’t… I’m begging…’

Kim didn’t want to watch, but she had to. More than anything, she wanted to cover her ears against the undiluted fear in Hiccup’s voice.

The screen was obscured by metal as a cleaver chopped down and severed the thumb. It jumped away from the rest of the hand as though a current had been shot through it.

Nausea hit her as the screams changed from terror to agony.

The camera remained on the trembling hand for a few seconds before the screen went blank.

Kim knew there was no purpose to watching it again for clues. At no time had she seen who was holding the cleaver. Not even his hand had appeared in the frame.

‘Read the clue, Bryant,’ she instructed, eager to put something else in her mind.

‘“Find my next by 3 a.m. or…”’

‘Or fucking what?’ she said, turning her face towards her colleague. ‘Where’s the damn clue?’

‘That’s it, guv. Nothing else,’ he said, turning the card over.

With each new communication, she could understand Penn’s rage more. The injustice of what was being done to Hiccup was gnawing a hole in her stomach, and she was growing to hate their sicko more with every passing hour.