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She was pleased to see the names of Ian Perkins, Nathan Yates, Leyton Parks and DeanNewton already on the board.
‘I already know where Ian Perkins isn’t,’ Penn offered.
Kim waited. From what she understood, he was the oldest, the ringleader and the only one who’d taken a life.
‘He’s no longer incarcerated. He left Welton aged twenty-one, when his appeal failed, and entered the prison system. He was released four years later.’
‘Shouldn’t be too hard to track—’
‘New identity.’
Kim groaned. ‘Witness protection?’
‘Yep. A month before he was released, he testified against a Turkish drug runner who’d revealed secrets of his operation to Perkins, allowing the Met to aim further up the food chain. Got himself a new name and everything.’
‘Anyone got any good news for me?’ Kim asked, noting that Stacey in particular seemed to have something on her mind.
‘Boss, I know we’re going down the line that these are some kind of revenge attacks for what the Psycho Six did to people, but maybe there’s something else.’
‘Like what?’
‘Eric Gould was in Welton for violence against his girlfriend. His relationship with TeresaFox was heading in that direction. Paul Brooks was in Welton for sexual assault; he was on track to repeat the offence, but he was murdered before he could do it. Is there any chance these people are being murdered not for what they’ve done but for what they’re about to do? Maybe they’re being watched by someone, or by the Black Country Angels, and they know stuff we don’t know.’
‘You do knowMinority Reportwas just a film, eh?’ Penn asked with a wink.
Stacey responded with a raised eyebrow.
‘Interesting theory,’ Alison volunteered.
‘And one we’ll study in more depth tomorrow,’ Kim said, pushing herself away from the desk.
There was a great deal to explore, but her team had been at it for over fourteen hours, and she had something else on her mind.
‘Back at seven,’ she called, heading into the Bowl.
Without further prompting, the four of them got busy closing down computers and stacking paperwork.
Stacey cast her a sidelong glance as she passed by the glass partition. Kim looked away. There would be a conversation, but she wasn’t there yet.
There was no doubt that Stacey disliked her right now, but at the moment, she was focussed on making contact with someone who disliked her even more.
FIFTY-NINE
As Stacey opened the door to her home, she was thinking less about Terence Birch and more about the state of her relationship with her wife.
It had been months since she’d viewed the flat as her safe space. She knew there had been a time when she would have kicked off her shoes and settled in for a night of takeaway pizza and rubbish TV after a long hard day at work. Normality, the small things. She missed them. And she missed the storm-free sanctuary she’d shared with Devon. It was as though their blow-up the other night had allowed the rain clouds into their idyllic haven. Yes, Devon had apologised, and of course she’d accepted it, but forgiveness didn’t come with an eraser.
‘Hey, Dee,’ she said, walking into the kitchen.
Devon turned from the boiling kettle to offer a one-armed embrace and a quick peck on the lips.
A wave of sadness washed over her. What the hell had been lost and would they ever find it again?
Devon handed her a glass of white wine while cradling a mug of coffee. ‘How was your day, babe?’
Stacey considered offering a glib one-liner that would mean she didn’t have to give her time at work any more attention, but she didn’t know how they would ever find each other if she closed up again.
‘Pretty shit. My boss still hates me,’ she said, taking a seat.
