Silent Scream

Forty-One

Covering seventeen acres, Brindleyplace was the largest mixed-use redevelopment in the UK. Canal-side factories and a Victorian school had been renovated in a range of architectural styles.

The project was started in 1993 and now offered three distinct areas.

Brindleyplace was an assortment of low-rise buildings offering plush office space, retail units and art galleries while Water’s Edge housed the bars, restaurants and cafes. The residential element sprawled out from Symphony Court.

‘Guv, what the hell are we doing wrong?’ Bryant asked as they stood on the fourth floor of the King Edwards Wharf building.

The door was answered by a slim, athletic woman wearing black leggings and a tight sports top. Her face bore the flush of recent exertion or exercise.

‘Nicola Adamson?’

‘And you are?’

Bryant offered his warrant card and introduced them both.

She stood aside and welcomed them into an open plan penthouse.

Kim stepped onto beech wooden flooring that stretched all the way to the kitchen area.

White leather sofas were set diagonally before a wall bearing a large, flatscreen television. Beneath it were various electronic devices recessed into the wall. No wires or cables were evident.

Spot lights were flush with the ceiling and a couple of down lighters were fixed above a pebble fireplace.

A glass dining table surrounded by teak chairs signalled the end of the lounge. Just beyond that the laminate ended and stone tiles began.

Kim would guess she was looking at around 1500 square feet of living space.

‘Can I offer you a drink, tea, coffee?’

Kim nodded. ‘Coffee, as strong as you’ve got.’

Nicola Adamson smiled openly. ‘That kind of day, Detective?’

The woman padded into a kitchen formed of white glossy cabinets with accents of brown wood.

Kim didn’t answer but continued to move around the space. The left side wall was formed entirely of glass, punctuated only by a few circular stone pillars. Beyond was a balcony and without stepping out Kim could see the view of the Brindley Loop Canal.

Further along the wall of glass Kim saw a treadmill partly obscured by an oriental screen. Well, she reasoned, if you were going to exercise this was surely the way to do it.

It was an impressive space for a woman in her mid-twenties who was home in the middle of the afternoon.

‘What do you do?’ Kim asked, bluntly.

‘Excuse me?’

‘Very nice place you have here. I was just wondering what you did to pay for it.’

Kim’s tact and diplomacy were somewhere back around eleven a.m. It was growing into a long day and the woman would either answer or she wouldn’t.

‘I’m not sure how it's your business as my work is certainly not illegal, but I'm a dancer, an exotic dancer, and I happen to be very good at it.’

Kim guessed that she probably was. Her movements were naturally graceful and lithe.

She carried a tray bearing two steaming mugs and a bottle of water. ‘I work at The Roxburgh,’ she said, as though that explained everything and for Kim it did. The club was membership only and provided adult entertainment for professional people. The stringent management ensured few visits from the local constabulary, unlike other clubs in Birmingham city centre.

‘You understand why we’re here?’ Bryant asked. Having made the mistake of sitting back on the plush sofa he was now struggling to sit forward before the furniture swallowed him whole.

‘Of course. I’m not sure how much I can help but feel free to ask me anything.’

‘How old were you when you were at Crestwood?’

‘It wasn't one whole stretch, Detective. My sister and I were in and out of care from the age of two.’

‘How old were you in that picture?’ Kim asked of a photo in a silver frame on the small table beside her.

The features of the two girls were as identical as their clothes. Both wore stiff white school shirts from the free uniform shop. Kim remembered those clothes well and the free taunts that came with them.

Both wore matching pink cardigans with an embroidered flower motif on the left hand side. Everything was identical but their hair. One had loose flowing blonde locks and the other had theirs tied back in a bobble.

Nicola reached for the photo and smiled. ‘I remember those cardigans so well. Beth lost hers and would steal mine. It was about the only thing we ever fought over.’

Bryant opened his mouth but Kim’s expression silenced him. The woman’s face had changed. She was no longer looking into the photo, but past it.

‘They may not look much but those cardigans were precious. Mary asked for a couple of volunteers to help wipe down all the paintwork. Beth and I offered because Mary was a good woman who did her best. At the end of the day she gave us a few pounds for our work.’ Nicola finally raised her eyes. Her expression was both sad and wistful.

‘You can’t even begin to imagine how we felt. The very next morning we went up into Blackheath, to the market. We spent all day roaming the stalls deciding what to buy and it wasn’t so much the cardigans but that they were ours, from new. Not hand-me-downs from the older girls or used garments from the charity shop. They were new and they were ours.’

A tear had escaped from Nicola’s right eye. She placed the picture back and wiped at her cheek.

‘It sounds silly and you can’t really understand ...’

‘Yes, I can,’ Kim said.

Nicola smiled indulgently and shook her head. ‘No, Detective, you really can’t ...’

‘Yes, I really can,’ Kim repeated.

Nicola met her gaze and held it for just a couple of seconds before nodding her understanding.

‘To answer your question, we were fourteen in that photo.’

Bryant looked to Kim and she gestured for him to continue. ‘Did you spend all your time in care at Crestwood?’ he asked.

Nicola shook her head. ‘No, our mother was a heroin addict and I’d like to say she tried her best but she didn’t. Until we were twelve it was a mixture of foster homes, children’s homes and our mother getting clean and taking us back. I don’t really remember it all that well.’

Kim could tell from her eyes that the recollection was no trouble at all.

‘But you had each other?’ Kim said, looking at the photo. For six years she had also known that feeling.

Nicola nodded. ‘Yes, we had each other.’

‘Miss Adamson, we have reason to believe that the body we’ve discovered within the grounds is possibly one of the Crestwood occupants.’

‘No,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘You’re not serious.’

‘Is there anything you can recall about your time there that would help us?’

Nicola’s eyes were busy as though searching her memories. Neither she nor Bryant spoke.

Slowly, Nicola began to shake her head. ‘I honestly can’t think of anything. Beth and I kept to ourselves. There is nothing I can offer.’

‘How about your sister? Do you think she would be able to help?’

Nicola shrugged just as Kim’s mobile began to ring. Two seconds later, Bryant’s sounded. They both fumbled and cut off the calls.

‘Sorry about that,’ Bryant offered. ‘You were saying?’

‘Maybe Beth can recall something. She is staying with me at the moment.’ Nicola checked her watch. ‘She should be home in about half an hour if you’d like to wait.’

Kim’s phone began to vibrate in her pocket. ‘No, that will be fine,’ she said, standing.

Bryant followed suit and offered his hand. ‘If you do think of anything, please give us a call.’

‘Of course,’ she said, walking them to the door.

Kim turned, willing to take a long shot. ‘Do you remember any of the girls having a particular fondness for beads?’

‘Beads?’

‘Perhaps a bracelet?’

Nicola thought for a moment and then clasped her hand over her mouth.

‘Yes, yes, there was a girl called Melanie. She was older than me so I didn’t know her very well. She was one of the “cool” girls, one of the troublemakers.’

Kim held her breath.

‘Yes, now I remember the beads. She gave some to her best friends. They were like a little club.’

Nicola began to nod her head. ‘Yes, of course, there were three of them. They all had the beads.’

Kim felt the sinking in her stomach. She was willing to bet that all three of them ran away.