Chapter 2

Loudon Road was in an area of Stourbridge that bordered Stourton, part of the last clutch of roads before the A458 continued into countryside.

‘How about we just carry on driving, grab us a coffee and admire the river at Bridgnorth,' Bryant suggested as he neared the left turn.

‘I'm good, thanks,' Kim said. Bridgnorth was one of the many local places under a flood warning, following what experts were calling the wettest September on record.

As if on cue, the wipers kicked in as spots began to appear on the windscreen.

Not that sitting beside a river appealed to her at any time of the year, she thought as they approached the crime-scene tape. Being in the countryside didn't suit her natural disposition for being amongst noise, activity, the chaos of urban life. She saw plenty of countryside when she took her Kawasaki Ninja for a burn to blow the cobwebs away.

Seeing that there was no space beyond the cordon, Bryant pulled into a spot just feet away from the gathering crowd.

Kim groaned when she saw who was at the front of the watching audience. Of course her arch nemesis from the Dudley Star was already there.

‘Care to comment, Inspector?' Frost asked.

‘You're an idiot.'

‘On that,' the reporter said, nodding towards the house.

‘On what?' Kim asked. ‘I haven't even entered the cordon. And how the hell are you even here before me?' She narrowed her gaze. ‘You upgraded your broomstick?'

‘I have my sources. So, what's going on? Neighbours are saying?—'

‘Keep your gossip to yourself,' Kim said, ducking under the barrier tape. She had no wish to listen to anything any reporter had to say before she'd even seen the body.

She headed away from the tape and then turned back.

‘Hey, Frost, I've got a scoop for you.'

‘Go on,' Frost said suspiciously.

‘It's a pretty safe bet we're gonna have some rain.'

Proving her point, the preliminary spots she'd seen on the windscreen turned into larger, heavier raindrops that spattered to the ground.

She headed straight for the tent that had been erected to cover the entrance to the property.

Keats stepped out of the tent to brief them while they donned the protective equipment.

‘It's not pretty. A lot of blood. Murder weapon is right there.'

Kim pulled the overall up over her body. ‘What was the cryptic bit about the killer?' she asked. ‘You doing our job as well as your own?'

‘In good time. Go straight through to the kitchen.'

The stench was immediate when Kim stepped into the hallway. The metallic aroma was unmistakeable as blood, and lots of it.

She walked past an upended telephone table and a broken lamp before reaching the doorway to the kitchen. The room opened up into a sea of blood spreading away from the victim towards every corner of the room. It hardly seemed possible that this amount of blood was from one person and not an entire gladiatorial battle. How did the body contain such a vast amount? she wondered.

Bryant's intake of breath brought her back to the room, away from the hypnotic red sea.

It was only once she had taken in the bigger picture that she realised just how violent the episode had been. The woman on the ground was a petite form dressed in jeans and what was once a purple tee shirt. The front of her shirt was blood-soaked from multiple stab wounds. Her arms and hands were covered with lacerations, with even a couple on her attractive face. A scratch that hadn't broken the skin ran from her lower jaw diagonally across her neck and down beneath her dark brown hair.

Spatters of blood were evident on the kitchen counters, as were what appeared to be nicks from the knife.

There was no question that this had been a brutal attack and that the victim had fought back with every breath she had. The result was carnage, and the rage seemed out of place in this ordinary suburban home.

Kim glanced to the countertop where a knife was already sealed in a clear evidence bag. The block was one short.

‘One of her own?' she asked Mitch across the breakfast bar.

‘The biggest,' he said, holding up the bag. It was a carving knife around eight inches long.

Kim shuddered at the thought of plunging such a blade into someone's flesh repeatedly.

She remained outside the kitchen as Mitch and his two operatives continued to work. There was nowhere she could step without disturbing the pool of blood.

She surveyed the room and realised the radio was still playing in the background. A pile of washing had been taken from the tumble drier and placed on the table ready for folding. The faint scent of a floral fabric conditioner was trying to triumph over the smell of blood.

Two cups sat beside the kettle.

Had the woman been expecting her visitor?

Her first impressions were that the victim had been going about her business normally when maybe she'd received a call. She'd readied the cups for her visitor, but she'd been attacked just feet away from the front door, in the hallway, as though the visitor could barely get through the door before unleashing violence.

‘Her name is Sheryl Hawne, aged forty-eight. No husband. One daughter named Katie,' Mitch offered. ‘Phone and purse were this side of the microwave. All appears intact.'

Kim had ruled out robbery the second she'd seen the blood. Most thieves did only what they needed to do. This was too much. Way too much.

Keats appeared behind Bryant.

‘Neighbour called the police after hearing screaming and shouting and then silence. She knocked the door but was too frightened to enter. Police did so and found the assailant sitting silently beside the victim, still holding the knife.'

He nodded towards the lounge.

‘Who am I talking to, Keats?' she asked.

‘The woman holding the knife was her daughter.'