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He checked the clock again.
Seven minutes.
His phone rang. ‘Hey, Penn, you’ve got around six minutes to entertain me until I—’
‘Bryant, where the fuck are you?’
Bryant sat up straight. Penn never swore. ‘In the car. At the farm gate. The guv wanted me to keep watch while she and Ryan—’
‘He’s not Ryan,’ Penn screamed as Bryant turned off the engine.
‘What the hell are you talking about?’ he said, getting out of the car.
‘Ryan West died years ago. He was fifty-seven years old.’
‘Then who the hell is she with?’ he demanded, jumping over the field gate.
‘We think it’s the kid they bullied and put in the hospital, but because it was all hushed up, we don’t have a name. There’s no official record.’
‘I’m heading towards her location,’ he said, trudging through the field. The adrenaline had kicked in and he was chewing up the metres.
‘Bryant, she’s not answering her phone. What do you want me to do?’
‘Backup coming?’
‘Oh yeah.’
‘Then pray. Just pray that she’s safe.’
Penn ended the call, and Bryant growled to expel the rage in his stomach.
Not only had they led the killer right to his next victim, but they’d put the guv in danger in the process. All kinds of scenarios were playing through his mind.
He picked up speed and called her number again.
He was totally awake now.
NINETY
Kim heard the ringing of her phone, but it sounded as though it was underneath the bedcovers.
As her mind began to clear, the throbbing in her throat brought back the memory of what had happened.
She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious, but Ryan had made good work in the meantime by tying her hands and feet together. They weren’t particularly good knots, and she was able to free her feet quickly by rubbing the rope on the ground and twisting her ankle around.
Ryan, or whatever his name was, had been clever in orchestrating the nettle sting to delay meeting Leyton until that second check call had happened. Once she’d confirmed her safety to Bryant, he’d known he had a full fifteen-minute head start without interruption.
She got to her feet and headed for the barbed-wire fence. The rope was tight against her wrists, and she realised quickly that the tiny spikes would take far too long to have any impact. She’d rip her arms to shreds before getting through the twine.
She looked around and headed towards the rubbish pile she’d spotted. Seeing nothing of use on top, she started kicking stuff out and struck gold when she found an empty tin of beans with the jagged lid still attached. She picked it up with both hands and managed to bend the lid up. Then she sat on the ground, placed the can between her knees and rubbed the rope back and forth on the razor-sharp metal, taking care not to get too close to her wrists.
Immediately, she could see the rope fraying. It was doable, but it was going to take a bit of time. And it was time that Leyton Parks didn’t have.
Her phone stopped ringing and then started again immediately.
‘I can’t bloody answer you,’ she croaked.
Whoever was ringing her was going to be alarmed at her failure to respond. They would bring backup.
