A Velvet Scream Read Online Free

cursing, saying it’ll cost him his job if he doesn’t get to see a client today.’
    â€˜I would have thought he’s got reason enough to miss a call today.’
    Korpanski said nothing but kept his eyes on the road.
    â€˜So this “guy” was also in Patches last night?’
    â€˜Seems so.’
    â€˜Fairly drunk and with a gang of “mates”?’
    â€˜That’s right.’
    They’d arrived. Though Patches nightclub was on the opposite side of the town to the station they were there within minutes. Leek is not a large town.
    Even as they climbed out of the car, Joanna realized that no one could be in any doubt that something had happened here last night. The car park was cordoned off, already a scene of activity, with a few curious onlookers watching and exchanging – what? Misinformation, probably. It was generally the case.
    Sergeant Barraclough, ‘Barra’ to all, was directing the fingertip search of the car park, which was damp and grey with slush, the scene furred by fog that clung around the area. Joanna didn’t envy them. A fingertip search is an unpleasant job: on your knees, even with ‘waterproof’ trousers which never quite were. The scene bore the indistinct uniform greyness of a Lowry, peopled by stick men and women whose focus was on the ground, all dressed in identical suits, hats and overshoes, each one anonymous.
    Do Not Cross tape had been strung around the entire area and the team, in their now sodden white suits, were moving forward in a slow, swaying movement. Joanna watched for a moment as they moved through the scene, the main sound a sort of sucking wetness with the odd shouted instruction. She glanced across at the nightclub. As do most clubs in the day, Patches looked decidedly seedy. It was a large, square building which had been a silk weaving mill two hundred years ago, but that had long since closed. It had then, briefly, been an antiques centre, but that had closed too and it had recently been converted into a nightclub with a coat of post office red gloss paint and blue window frames. There wasn’t much choice of venue for a night out in Leek. Apart from the pubs and The Winking Man, which was way out high on the Buxton Road, there was only here, so the local youngsters tended to congregate at Patches. With the fresh snowfall last night the A53 Buxton road would have been impassable, so unless any revellers could be bothered to venture into Hanley they were stuck with Patches.
    The car park was empty apart from the one splash of colour, a red Audi TT, with the number plate SEC5 21. The five had been curved to make the clumsy words, SECS 21. Joanna smiled. The plates were, strictly speaking, illegal, though they still struck her as funny. Though, in the circumstances  . . .
    Barra came forward to speak to them. He jerked his head in the direction of the car.
    â€˜Belongs to Steve Shand,’ he said. ‘He left it here last night because he’d had a drink too many – or six. When he came for it,’ he said, following their eyes, ‘he found young Kayleigh. Lucky he did and even more lucky he noticed her. She was partly hidden behind the wall and barely conscious. But he was here a while, so he said, because his locks were frozen. He was blowing on them when he heard a noise. He said it sounded like somebody moaning or groaning. He thought it was a cat or something, then took a look and found her. Otherwise she could have been dead.’
    â€˜What time was it?’ Joanna asked.
    â€˜Seven thirty. He was going to work.’ Barra gave a rueful smile. ‘Needless to say, we’ve detained him. He wasn’t fit to drive anyway.’ His eyes flickered back towards the vehicle. ‘We’ve kept the car. Just in case.’
    Joanna nodded and Barra continued. ‘We’ll do a quick check of it and if it’s all right with you he can have it back this