The Ex (DS Jenna Morgan)

by Diane Saxon

  He knew what she’d been through, just as the whole of the station did. But Ted Walker’s experience was ingrained, and he took care to veil the sympathy, if any lurked in him.

  A true professional, he’d seen so much in a long career that was just drawing through to its twilight years. Not that he allowed it to affect his work. If anything, she suspected they’d have to drag him kicking and screaming from the station when his time was done. If you cut him through the middle, he’d have the words ‘police officer’ written all the way through, like a stick of Blackpool rock.

  As the paramedic shuffled around and opened up the view, Jenna took the opportunity to skim her gaze from the soles of the casualty’s dainty little pink bunny rabbit socks all the way to the top of her bloodstained head, pausing momentarily to take in the gentle swell of her stomach to confirm that Imelda was indeed pregnant, as voiced by one of her neighbours. Gossip. It proved once again to have its use.

  Jenna swallowed as she continued her check, culminating at the puddle of blood the other paramedic had his knee in which spread out over the broken and cracked tiles.

  In a vicious slap, shock struck her, and she sucked in a long breath through her teeth. Her muscles turned to liquid and her head reeled as she blinked away the flood of crimson, edged with darkness, that filled her vision.

  A head trauma.

  She closed her eyes, then flashed them open again as the image of PC Lee Gardner’s head exploding in a shower of blood, bone and grey matter sneaked beneath her defences to squeeze a cruel fist around her insides.

  She puffed out a heavy breath and stared at the slow filter of blood as the pool of it haloed out from the lifeless woman’s head.

  Weak-kneed, Jenna wilted against the hallway wall with the knowledge that even if she fainted, none of them would bat an eyelid. They’d carry on with their jobs in order of priority, so she’d better make it more of a genteel slide down the wall, rather than a face-plant-the-floor kind of faint.

  If she had the energy to move, she’d take herself outside. Although that wasn’t an option with the neighbours lined up out there. She didn’t even want to imagine what they’d think of a police officer collapsing in front of them.

  She hauled in a long, slow breath and drew on every ounce of inner strength she had. She was strong. She had this. The feeling would pass. It was purely a reminder of recent events, paired with lack of food and a dip in her blood sugar levels from drinking too much the night before. For the sake of self-preservation, she kept her back against the wall and slid further down until she rested on her haunches. It gave her the opportunity to put her head between her knees if she needed to, and without any of them taking much notice of what must be a very pasty, sweat-filmed face, they would assume she was getting down on a level with them. If it did come to the worst, she was closer to the floor, with less chance of her doing herself an injury if she keeled over.

  She puffed out her cheeks and then released the breath she’d been holding. Bloody hell. She tipped her head back and blinked away the threatening blackness. She’d be damned if she gave in. The unexpected sight had whipped under her defences. But it was momentary. She had a handle on it.

  As the activity around her intensified, Jenna blocked off everything other than the scene in front of her. She pushed aside the black clouds threatening her and squinted at the paramedic. His fast, efficient moves and intense concentration weren’t those of someone verifying a death, but of someone fighting to preserve a life.

  She cleared her throat, not to attract attention but more to release the paralysing hold shock had on her throat and encourage words from her mouth.

  ‘The shout said she was dead.’ Her voice croaked out in a gruff whisper so it didn’t carry to the casualty’s husband. Jenna appreciated the quick shake of the paramedic’s head to confirm otherwise. She’d get nothing further from him, she wasn’t his concern, the casualty was, but a quick sense of relief brought heat rushing back to her face and strength seeped back into her muscles.

  The woman wasn’t dead. Just injured. How badly, Jenna couldn’t guess. She needed to wait for that information from the paramedics when they were ready.

  She turned her head and met the gaze of the paramedic assistant as he handed over a needle and trocar to the paramedic.

  ‘We need to get a line in fast. Al’s going to give her tranexamic acid.’

  She raised a brow to query, and he turned away to pick up more equipment. This time, she recognised the syringes and bag of infusion fluid. ‘What does that do?’

  The assistant continued, keeping his voice low as he sorted through further equipment with neat precision. ‘Tranexamic acid is used for rapid clotting of the blood. We need to slow it down, she’s lost a lot.’ He shrugged. ‘Head trauma and GCS of eleven. We need it done before HEMS arrive.’

  HEMS was the Helicopter Emergency Medical Services, which came equipped with a doctor, a nurse, very possibly more. The request for HEMS indicated the severity of the injury.

  She glanced at the woman’s feet. Not as severe as dead.

  Jenna rolled her lips inward as she tried to imagine exactly where the helicopter could land in the steep hills of the Ironbridge gorge.

  As if he could read her mind, the assistant raised his head, a crooked smile played across his lips. ‘Coalbrookdale and Ironbridge School. We’ve used it before. They won’t take long from there. Three minutes once they land. It gives Al time to prep so they can walk in and RSI her.’

  Drawing a blank, Jenna frowned. ‘RSI?’

  ‘Rapid sequence induction.’ He threw some of the equipment from the floor back into his bag and screwed up some of the debris Al had tossed down in his haste. ‘They’re going to have to put her in a coma before they transport her. That’s a serious head injury. Possible skull fracture.’

  Her own weakness forgotten in a blink, Jenna ran her gaze over the little woman flat out on the tiles, her attention zoomed in on the small bump. ‘What about the baby?’

  The assistant’s mouth tightened, and he gave a slight shake of his head as he looked down at Imelda. ‘Currently the baby seems okay. There’s no sign of distress. Pulse and heart rate are fine. The oxygen levels from mum are good, but obviously if that fails…’ meaning if Imelda died, ‘… then a caesarean is an option as the foetus is viable at this age.’ He glanced up and shot her a regretful smile. ‘That means we need to get her stable enough to transport to hospital as soon as possible to get her on life support if required. HEMS will be here any moment, the doctor will make that call.’

  7

  Sunday 11 July, 11:45 hrs

  At the loud thwack of helicopter rotors, Jenna raised her head and blew out a fast breath. It was a day of reminders. The last time she’d attended an incident which involved a helicopter, it was for a missing person and an injured dog. The missing person had turned out to be her sister and the injured dog had been Domino, Fliss’s Dalmatian.

  A lifetime ago it felt, but less than a year in reality and yet the thrum, thrum, thrum of whirling rotor blades flashed through her mind to transport her back. It didn’t help that it was the same area as her sister had disappeared. Everything converged to send the reminder slicing through her.

  Jerking her back to reality, the paramedic assistant’s voice, filled with urgency, cut through her reverie. ‘You’ve got three minutes to move before they burst in and trash your crime scene even more than we already have.’

  With a static flash, her mind engaged, and Jenna whipped her gaze along the length of the little woman on the floor. The pool of blood, smeared and smudged from the movement of Al, the knees of his bottle green uniform soaked in it. The splash of it reached high up the pale cream painted wall, spuming out in a pattern that could have come from flicking a paintbrush. Only it wasn’t paint. It was bright scarlet blood.

  Jenna frowned as she leaned in closer, narrowing her eyes to follow the splatter pattern as she spoke to the assistant. ‘I was told she’d taken a fall.’

/>   ‘So were we. Bit of a confusing one. Initially we were informed the husband had told the operator his wife had slipped in the front hallway, bashed her head and was dead.’

  ‘Yep.’ She agreed so far.

  ‘On that information, Al there checked her carotid artery and found she was still alive.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Yeah. Only…’

  ‘Only, what?’

  The assistant did a slow head turn until his cool blue gaze met hers and he lowered his voice. ‘Have you seen her face?’ He flashed the husband a quick glance before he lowered his head and moved his equipment bag to one side.

  She’d not had a decent look at the casualty’s face with Al’s back partially blocking the view. She shook her head and then pushed to her feet so she could peer over the top of the paramedic.

  Still unable to grab a decent view, she bent low, so she came nose to nose with the assistant. ‘What am I missing?’

  Lips barely moving, the assistant handed off another syringe to Al, who ignored them both as he administered to his patient. ‘You don’t normally get your face slashed open by falling backwards.’ He raised his eyebrows before he ducked his head and continued to sort through his equipment. ‘Or a bruised chin. Like someone maybe smashed their fist into it.’

  Jenna straightened. With grim determination, she did a slow turn and faced Zak Cheetham-Epstein across the hallway. The desperation lining his face did nothing to her emotions, but she sorted through the steps she now needed to take as the case took on a different route. Accidental fall was a whole lot different to full-frontal attack or domestic abuse. Whichever it turned out to be, Jenna had an investigation to conduct.

  Face blank to cover any signs of suspicion, Jenna squeezed herself against the hallway wall to make her way past the casualty and both the ambulance crew. When she reached the end nearest the woman’s head, she took the opportunity to get a better view.

  This time, she managed to block any personal memories and feelings as ice washed over her heart to give her the clarity and direction she needed. The woman was injured. The paramedic may well save her life, but Jenna was about to represent her and gain justice. She belonged to Jenna now. She was one of her casualties.

  Three steps further on and she turned her back on the stricken woman to place herself between her and Zak Cheetham-Epstein. Her prime suspect. She caught Ted Walker’s calm gaze and hoped the seriousness transmitted from her to him in one long look. Time was of the essence before HEMS moved in and whipped the woman away. There was certain evidence they needed.

  ‘Mr Cheetham-Epstein?’ At his stunned nod, she recognised the shock setting in but continued. ‘The helicopter has landed with a doctor on board to tend to your wife.’ She reached out to touch his elbow, directing his attention away from what was going on behind her. ‘Let’s go through to your living room and give them the space they need to work.’

  Glazed eyes moved slowly past her and back again to focus on her. ‘But I need to be here, she might need me. Imelda…’

  ‘We’re about to be overrun with medics of one kind or another, let’s move out of their way and give your wife the best chance. They need to help her and we’re going to get under their feet.’

  His mouth tightened as he nodded, and she took the opportunity to skim a quick glance over him, her gaze taking in dust and blood-smeared hands and what appeared to be wood shavings scattered over his white T-shirt.

  He turned to lead the short way down the hall to the room at the end while Jenna took the opportunity to make a quick assessment of his black trainers which left bloodstained smears across the hallway. Any further blood would be evident once they checked the trainers. It could wait until SOCO arrived. She couldn’t assume at this stage he was guilty of anything. Many a police officer had leapt in with an assumption of guilt, the papers got hold of it and some innocent person became persecuted. All because the police rushed a matter. There was no rush. Evidence gathering was the bread and butter of their job.

  Zak led her into the kitchen. She assumed he’d chosen it instead of the living room in order to keep one eye on the proceedings in the hall. That wouldn’t be an option for him.

  As she passed Ted Walker, she looked him dead in the eye and kept her voice low. ‘Ted, can you get your bodycam up close and personal. As much footage as possible. I have a feeling we may need to use it. Get that blood-splatter pattern up the wall before someone’s PPE’d backside smears it off.’ She knew in the close confines of the hallway, the medics wouldn’t be concerned with evidence. Their job was to save the life of the woman on the floor.

  With nothing but a brief nod of acknowledgement, PC Walker touched the small, black, box-shaped device on his chest to show it was already activated, the little red flashing light indicated it was live. He stepped beyond her to get in close to the team working on Imelda.

  Confident it would have been live when Ted arrived at the house, and they may have some relevant footage, Jenna left him to it and followed Zak through to the kitchen.

  Jenna swung the door closed behind them to reduce the noise level and prevent distractions for Zak, aware she needed his full attention in those vital minutes straight after an incident, where his defences were compromised. The likelihood was that anything he said in that time would be the bald truth, or so obviously a lie borne of sheer terror that it would be transparent.

  The flash of panic on his face as she shut out access to his wife stayed, his eyes rolling to reveal the white.

  ‘Zak. Can I call you Zak?’ she began.

  He nodded. His hands linked together at his waist with knuckles turning white hinted at the anguish, but there was no room for sympathy for this man. One step at a time. There was nothing he could physically do to help his wife unless the man was a brain surgeon. If he had been, he would have taken charge of the situation.

  ‘Zak, would you like a cup of tea?’ The all-time solution for everything from exhaustion to shock, the mere suggestion of it an ice-breaker, the making of it a comfort and the drinking of it a natural sedative.

  Zak shook his head and as his desperate gaze clashed with hers, he blew out a breath, unlinked his long, bony fingers and threw both hands on his head, scrubbing at his scalp. ‘What happened? I don’t understand what happened.’ He strode away from her across the narrow kitchen which overlooked the back garden and valley below. He swung around and faced her.

  She waited. Evidently Zak wasn’t a talker, but he internalised. She needed him to share the frantic thoughts flashing over his features. ‘Walk me through it. What happened this morning, Zak?’

  He raked his fingers down his face, so his skin stretched, and she saw the whites of his eyes. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary.’ He dropped his hands from his face and placed them on his hips as he gathered himself, his mind obviously struggling to focus. He blew out a breath and, as he frowned, a deep crease appeared between his eyes to run vertically down his brow to the top of his nose. ‘We’re doing the place up. With the baby on the way, we need more space.’

  Jenna said nothing but let the quiet man continue, taking note of the tremor in his fingers as he circled his hand in the air.

  ‘We’re limited. We can’t go out any further, but we decided we could make more of the top storey, bashing through a wall and so on.’ He bounced his head like a nodding dog as though it comforted him, raking through the mundane to steady himself. He plucked at his bottom lip with thumb and forefinger. ‘I needed to sand the door down. The paint was cracked and peeling, so Imelda brought Joshua down for a snooze.’

  Before she could ask who Joshua was, Zak’s eyes flew wide with horror.

  ‘Joshua!’

  He made a dash for the door and Jenna stepped into his space to stop him, her hand held up to his chest. ‘Joshua?’

  Zak jerked to a stop before he collided with her hand. ‘Our little boy. Joshua. Oh, my God, Joshie, he’s only eleven months old.’

  Shock rippled through her. There’d been no sign of
a child. No indication.

  She frowned, her mind whirring. The neighbour had said there was a baby on its way, but she’d not mentioned a child.

  He darted his gaze around the kitchen as though the little boy would suddenly appear. ‘Imelda brought him down so he could grab a nap. I forgot.’ He almost ripped his hair from his scalp. ‘How could I forget?’

  Because the man’s thoughts had been consumed by the glut of blood spreading from his wife’s scalp. Shock did that. A temporary amnesia wasn’t unknown. When the mind closed out every thought except the most important one. At that point, the most important thing was to get help for Imelda. Which he’d done.

  Now the numbness had worn off, his mind was free to expand and think of other things. Like his son who was apparently napping somewhere.

  With fast breaths escalating, Jenna knew it was a matter of seconds before the tall young man in front of her went into full panic mode, which would do none of them any good.

  His voice rose an octave in full horror. ‘How could I have forgotten him? Why didn’t I think? I need to check him. Now.’

  She whisked a glance down at his blood-streaked hands and considered the need to wrap them in plastic bags until SOCO arrived but thought better of it as the man’s pale features drained even more. It could wait. There was blood everywhere, it didn’t need to be exclusively sampled from his hands. He just needed not to touch anything until they had taken photographs.

  To slow him down, Jenna engaged him again. ‘You say your wife put him to bed?’

  ‘Yeah. He’s a handful at the moment. Just got his feet under him, racing all over the place like a drunken squirrel.’

  At her slightly panicked stare, he expanded. ‘He wobbles all over the place. Does crab like runs and then slaps down on the floor.’

  ‘Right. But he’s in bed now?’

  He nodded with flustered enthusiasm and went to move past her once more. Again, Jenna stepped into his path. She couldn’t have him racing all over the house in a blind panic looking for a child, buggering up her crime scene by treading his blood-stained trainers everywhere.