EIGHTY

12.35 P.M.

‘Well, the car’s here,’ Bryant noted as he parked right behind Frost’s Audi TT.

Where else would she have gone after the night she’d had? Kim wondered.

‘I swear, if she’s just catching up on some sleep, I’ll bloody kill her,’ she said as they approached the front door.

Not least because getting some sleep was exactly what they’d all love to be doing, she thought, acknowledging the smidgeon of resentment she had towards the reporter for bailing.

She banged on the door, making no effort to keep it polite. Frost was going to get strips torn off her for this.

No answer.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Kim said, moving along to the single window at the front of the terrace property. She didn’t have time to be messing around like this. If the woman had just answered her phone to her boss, they would never have come here.

She’d been in the house enough times to know the front door led straight into the living room, which led through to a kitchen and small bathroom. The back door opened onto a gated rear yard accessible from a narrow alleyway.

Annoyingly, Frost dressed her windows with net curtain instead of blinds. Being at the bottom of a busy high street, there wasn’t a lot of privacy from pedestrians, vehicles and buses, but the dense white fabric made it all the harder to look through the window.

Kim put her hands either side of her face as she peered in, trying to make out anything beyond the lace.

The first thing she saw was the laptop bag that Frost had brought with her to the station.

She repositioned herself and saw that Frost was sitting on the sofa with her head resting back on some kind of red pillow, sleeping soundly.

‘Oh, she’s getting it,’ Kim said, taking out her phone. ‘Bang that door again and keep at it,’ she instructed, ringing Frost’s number.

She peered back through the window and saw the phone on the sofa beside Frost lighting up.

No movement from Frost.

Okay, she might have put the phone on silent, but there was no way she could ignore the constant banging on the door.

Kim ended the call and looked again.

No hint of movement. None at all.

‘Bryant, I don’t like this,’ she said, moving away.

She sprinted to the end of the short terrace row and across the grass verge that separated the end house from the road.

By the time she entered the gulley, Bryant was right behind her.

She didn’t need to count the gates for the third one along. It was swinging open. That fact did nothing to quell the rising panic in her stomach.

The back door was ajar, and she burst through it, praying she was going to hear indignant protests from the reporter.

There was only silence.

Kim entered the front room and froze. What she had thought was a red pillow behind Frost’s head was the bloodstained sofa.

Other than the deathly pallor of her face, the woman appeared to be sleeping soundly.

The movement of Bryant reaching for his radio spurred her into action. She put two fingers to the right side of Frost’s neck to check her pulse.

‘It’s faint, but it’s there,’ she said to Bryant, who was already giving the address to the emergency services.

A wave of relief surged through her, but it was short-lived when she saw the back of the reporter’s head.

The blonde hair was matted with blood at the crown, but Kim couldn’t see the injury beneath the bloodstained hair.

She could picture it. Frost was wearing the same clothes she had been the last time Kim had seen her. The woman had returned home, dropped onto the sofa exhausted and hadn’t moved since.

Their killer had sneaked into the house and struck her, and Kim wasn’t sure from the position that Frost had even woken up. It could only be their sicko. He had been crystal clear that there would be repercussions if his instructions weren’t followed to the letter. She hadn’t posted an article at 6 a.m., and this was the price she’d paid.

‘Damn it, Frost,’ she muttered, touching the woman’s neck again. The pulse was still there, but she didn’t know for how long.

It was hard to imagine anyone surviving the blood loss she was seeing, but she did know that head injuries could bleed profusely. It was the damage beneath the wound that was a worry.

‘Jesus,’ Bryant said, shaking his head. She could see the exact same thoughts on his face.

‘Don’t cross her off yet,’ Kim said, taking a seat beside the reporter. She placed her fingers on the woman’s wrist to make sure they didn’t lose the faint pulse they had.

Part of her wanted to try and shake the woman into consciousness, but she was no doctor and had no idea of the consequences. If the banging and the ringing hadn’t roused her, she suspected there was nothing more she could do. Except one thing, she thought, pressing lightly on the wrist.

‘Frost, we’re here. If you can hear us, help is coming and we’re not leaving until they get here.’

She saw Bryant’s surprise at her tone. She too was amazed that she could muster it for Frost’s benefit. It was usually reserved only for when Barney was feeling unwell. But who knew if these would be the last words the woman would ever hear?

As she continued to speak softly, Bryant pointed to his ear and then the door to indicate he could hear sirens in the distance.

Kim nodded towards the door for him to go and flag them down.

‘You’re gonna be fine, Frost. You’re too annoying not to be,’ she said, hearing the sirens growing louder.

She continued talking until the paramedics walked in. They had eyes only for the woman on the sofa, and Kim knew that Bryant would already have filled them in.

The male paramedic’s studious frown said it all.

She let go of Frost’s wrist as he moved into position.

The second paramedic entered with Bryant behind.

‘It’s okay, Tracy,’ the woman said, taking Kim’s place at her side.

The sound of Kim’s phone ringing drew all eyes towards her.

For a moment, she’d forgotten they were investigating a murder and a kidnap.

They could now add attempted murder to the Jester’s list of crimes, and she didn’t want to think about whether that crime would reach its endgame.

‘Go ahead, Stace,’ she said, heading out of the room.

‘Got something, boss, the owner of a vehicle with a similar registration as the one I saw was at the litter-pick yesterday morning.’

Kim’s stomach turned. Oh, that was just too coincidental.

‘Great work, Stace. Text Bryant the address.’

She ended the call and stepped back inside as Inspector Plant pulled up. He would now take over the scene.

‘Next of kin?’ asked one of the paramedics.

‘Her mother, but I don’t have any details.’

‘We just need to call someone if anything… err… happens.’

She knew what he was trying to say, and she wasn’t going to mess about looking for contact numbers. Their priority should be getting Frost the help she needed.

Kim didn’t hesitate. ‘Then I guess you’d better call me.’

‘Getting a bit too involved, guv?’ Bryant asked.

‘What’s my choice? Would you prefer me to offer your number?’ she asked as a vehicle she didn’t want to see slid into the space in front of Bryant’s Astra.

‘You have to be joking,’ she said as Steve Ashworth headed their way.

Bryant had summoned urgent assistance using his radio. Damn the press with their bloody scanners.

‘You still here?’ she asked as he approached.

‘We’ve already had this conversation. More importantly, why did you lie?’

‘About what?’

‘Isn’t this the address of Tracy Frost, the local reporter working with you to catch the Jester?’

Kim said nothing as Inspector Plant stepped between them with the cordon tape.

‘Bit coincidental that something happens to her on the day she’s working with you. Something else for your conscience, Inspector?’

‘Get him out of here,’ she said to Planty.

Her colleague obliged by gently but firmly moving him along.

‘I’m not going anywhere, Stone. You’re stuck with me, and I’ll follow you until I’ve got your story.’

Not today you won’t, Kim thought as she beckoned Planty back.

He still had the cordon tape in his hand.

‘Down to and including that blue Toyota,’ she instructed. ‘And don’t let anyone leave.’