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He frowned. ‘I suppose it was because she never seemed lonely. She was always pretty upbeat, cheery. I just assumed there was someone waiting at home.’
Again, Kim was reminded that Victoria had seemed to be perfectly happy with her own company.
It was now clear to Kim that the closest person to Victoria they could find wasn’t actually close to her at all.
Kim was about to thank him for his time when he frowned.
‘There was one strange thing she said, come to think of it. She was a few minutes late and I was in the dressing room waiting for her.’
‘Was that unusual?’
He nodded.
‘And what did she say?’
‘She said something about being pleased she didn’t do private readings any more.’
‘Go on,’ Kim said.
‘That’s it really. Just said that she remembered how draining they were.’
Kim had to wonder why she’d said such a thing. What would have made her remember how draining they were? It could only mean that she’d recently done one and that it had reminded her. With no more detail that that, her theory that she’d met privately with their killer was dead in the water.
Now she stood. ‘Thank you for your time. If we need anything further, we’ll be in touch.’
She headed for the door and then turned. ‘Just out of interest, after talking to our officer, you told Victoria about the salty crisps, right?’
‘The what?’
‘You told Victoria that the officer’s gran liked to eat salty crisps?’
He shook his head. He had no clue what she was talking about.
Kim frowned. ‘Okay. Again, thanks for your time.’
SIXTY-SEVEN
It was after 10a.m. by the time they pulled up at the western edge of the woods, and Kim realised it must look pretty similar to how it would have appeared on that day almost ten years ago.
This side of the woods was lined with cherry blossom trees – the early risers, her foster mom had called them; flowering early before turning to leaf. The dense blossoms would have made seeing into the wooded area impossible.
‘So they’d have entered here,’ she said, following a well-worn path that wound through the trees and bushes. There was no straight route where you could see ahead, which must have made it great fun riding a bike through every morning.
She was around fifty metres into the woods and about to urge Bryant to keep up when she heard a rustling up ahead.
She turned to her colleague with a finger to her lips and then held out the palm of her hand, telling him to stay still.
He nodded his understanding as she looked to the ground to take care where she stepped.
Her movements reminded her of a time when she was eleven years old. Her foster mother, Erica, had baked a chocolate sponge filled with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. She had stubbornly refused to take a bite, still rejecting all efforts to make her feel at home. She’d woken during the night and the only thoughts in her mind had been of that cake. She had sneaked downstairs, avoiding all creaky floorboards by stepping on them as lightly as possible. The cake had been everything she’d imagined and more. She had crept back up to bed and pretended it never happened. And she was mirroring those movements right now.
The path continued to wind through budding trees, but a movement of something blue up ahead caught her eye.
Five metres further, she stepped into a clearing. A fallen log blocked a path leading out of the woods away from the main road.
Sitting on the log was Josh Adams.
They regarded each other silently.
