Chapter 3

Kim wasn't quite ready for the sight that greeted her when she entered the lounge.

Sitting on the sofa, flanked by two police officers, was a painfully thin woman in her early to mid-twenties. Her plain white tee shirt was soaked with blood, and spatters of red were present on her grey jeans, her trainers and the skin of her forearms, neck and face. There were even traces obvious in her straw-blonde hair. Her wrists were bound with handcuffs, and she sat on the edge of the sofa, staring ahead.

Kim followed her gaze to the wall, which was dotted with photos of a little blonde girl in different princess costumes, smiling for the camera.

The daughter's face was devoid of expression as she stared at the photos of herself. The woman lying butchered in the kitchen wasn't present in any of them.

Kim stepped in front of the wall, but the woman's gaze didn't falter. She stared through Kim's midriff to the images behind her.

‘Katie, my name is Detective Inspector Stone. Would you like to tell us what happened here?'

No response or acknowledgement that she'd spoken.

‘Can you confirm that the person in the kitchen is your mother?'

No response.

Kim kneeled down in front of her. ‘Katie, what happened here?'

Nothing.

Kim raised herself back to a standing position and nodded to Bryant in the doorway.

He stepped forward and showed his identification. Given the circumstances and her refusal to speak, they had no choice but to make an immediate arrest.

‘Katie Hawne, I am arresting you…'

Kim tuned out of the obligatory caution and studied the face for any change. There was nothing. She wondered if Katie was already planning her defence or if she'd talk once she was in the presence of a lawyer.

The thought of that prompted the next stage of the investigation. She turned towards the door and, as though he'd read her mind, Mitch was waiting with empty evidence bags. She took them and turned back to the woman on the sofa.

‘Katie, we're going to need to take your clothing for evidence. A full search of your person will take place at the station, but now PC Murphy will assist you upstairs to change into something more suitable and bag the clothing you're wearing.'

Whether she was staying silent on purpose or in a state of shock, she would eventually realise that her clothes were stained with her mother's blood.

Kim nodded to the female constable, who touched Katie's elbow and urged her to her feet.

As Katie turned towards the door, Kim's eyes met those of the constable. She nodded that she understood the suspect was not to be left alone.

Kim indicated for the other constable to take a position at the bottom of the stairs. She didn't feel that Katie was going to make a run for it – she didn't appear present enough to attempt that – but if she took time to think about her impending future, she might be tempted.

‘Bloody hell, guv,' Bryant said, letting out a long breath. ‘Talk about spaced out.'

‘If it's genuine,' Kim said, heading back towards the kitchen. It wouldn't be the first time a suspect had tried to feign mental health issues to avoid a life sentence.

‘Anything else I need to know?' she called into the room.

‘How to know when to let something go,' Keats said, narrowing his gaze in her direction.

‘Unlikely, but thanks for the tip.'

Kim took one last look at the carnage that had transformed a perfectly normal kitchen into a scene from a horror movie before heading back to the front door.

There was nothing more she could do here. Her work was back at the station, questioning Katie Hawne to find out why she had taken her mother's life in such a cruel and brutal way.

With the efficiency of a well-oiled machine, she and Bryant silently removed all the protective wear beside the bin that had been provided. As she placed the last paper slipper into the bin, she heard Bryant's sharp intake of breath.

She turned and followed his gaze to the handcuffed woman coming down the stairs.

Katie had changed her clothes for sure. Gone were the bloodstained garments and in their place was a full-length sequinned magenta ballgown.