The Ex (DS Jenna Morgan)

by Diane Saxon

  And it was a crime. Within fifteen minutes, it had gone from accident to possible assault. If Imelda didn’t make it, it could be manslaughter or murder. No doubt about it in her mind. There’d been a crime committed.

  A clever person would use any excuse to cover their tracks.

  It would be interesting to get Jim Downey, the Chief Forensics Officer’s view on that. She could imagine him clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth while he scratched the top of his balding head as he assessed the carnage the medics left.

  Any other situation, and he’d slice his own officers open with his sharp tongue for trashing a crime scene. This was a matter of necessity every officer and scenes of crime member understood and appreciated. Preservation of life. First and foremost. If the paramedics and doctors trashed the scene, there was nothing that could be done about it. The best any police officer could do was ensure it wasn’t compromised any more than it needed to be. Like allowing a suspect to crawl all over the house with blood stained hands and feet.

  ‘It’s okay, Zak.’ She needed to keep him calm, reassure him. ‘These things happen. I’m sure he’s safe.’

  ‘Yes. I need to check on him. Please let me pass.’

  ‘There’s nothing to worry about, but we don’t want you going past the paramedics while they’re tending to your wife.’

  Eyes glazed, he stared at her. ‘Could you check? I need to know…’ His voice cracked. He scraped his fingers down his cheeks, so his skin pulled down as his eyes filled with tears. ‘Oh, God. I need to see him. How could I forget him? How?’ The last word came out on an agonised howl that resonated in Jenna’s heart.

  It was only a matter of a few precious minutes since he’d found his wife and made the call. A few minutes longer since they’d all descended on him. She wasn’t sure how Joshua could still be asleep, but there was always the possibility. She had no idea, no experience with babies. It wasn’t her place to judge and a coolness flooded in so she could deal with the job at hand. Imelda was being taken care of so Jenna’s prime priority was to check on the child.

  ‘I can do that, but I need you to stay calm, Zak. Tell me where Joshua is sleeping, and I’ll check on him right now.’

  His hand fluttered skywards. ‘Yes. Top of the stairs. First door on the left.’

  A tall, lean man, even at her height, Jenna found herself having to look up at Zak. She held his gaze with hers and tried to convey the seriousness of the matter without sending him into a frenzy.

  ‘Zak, I need you to stay right where you are.’ Aware she had no backup other than Ted Walker, she needed to ensure Zak didn’t move, didn’t touch anything. Not until SOCO arrived. ‘Zak.’ His gaze locked with hers and understanding shimmered in his narrowed eyes. ‘PC Walker is outside the door, if you need him, but I need you to stay right where you are while I check on Joshua. Understood?’

  One short, sharp nod was all she needed as she took off out of the kitchen door.

  She stepped into the hallway and pulled the door closed behind her.

  The cacophony of sound melded into one mash-up at the arrival of HEMS as they surged into the front hall and threw kit down on the floor, all over the crime scene like flies on a piece of shit. It wasn’t lack of respect, but a heightened awareness that this fragile life was under threat.

  Al stood up and stepped back to let the doctor in, almost reversing into Jenna.

  She backed up and then slipped around him. Jenna sent a quick glance over to PC Walker, back to her, concentrating on his own part of the job. She stepped in close and touched his elbow to gain his attention. ‘Ted, apparently there’s a toddler here. Eleven months old, upstairs asleep.’

  Doubt shot over Ted’s face. ‘Asleep? With all of this going on. Bloody hell, Sarg, I would have thought you’d hear him screaming the walls down.’

  Jenna tended to agree with him, but she knew little of children’s sleep patterns. ‘I’m going to run upstairs and check on him.’ She cast a glance at the closed kitchen door. ‘Watch Mr Cheetham-Epstein.’

  He kept his voice low as he nodded his acknowledgement. ‘I’ll make sure he doesn’t come out.’

  Jenna sucked in a breath as she squeezed past the medics and took the narrow stairways to the next storey, sprinting two at a time, taking a quick glance at the time on her iPhone.

  Damn, but time was racing away.

  8

  Sunday 11 July, 11:55 hrs

  At the neat square landing on the first floor, Jenna considered her options as she stood in the middle of a wide expanse of hallway, four white-painted wooden doors, all closed against the threat of dust from the next storey up, an indication of a nice, tidy lifestyle. Something she’d long since abandoned hope of in her own personal life. It wasn’t possible since Fliss and her raging Dalmatian had moved in. Not to mention Adrian and Mason, their boyfriends, edging their way into their lives and a house which when she first bought it had been more than adequate for her single status. Not so any more. But she wouldn’t have it any other way. She’d learnt to live with the hustle and bustle, the lack of privacy, the race for her own kitchen.

  She angled her head to one side to listen, the soft buzz of her tinnitus doing little other than providing a quiet white sound. Nothing. No sound of a little one. No crying, no happy sounds she imagined a toddler would make if they were awake but content. She could only hope he was fast asleep and had missed the entire episode, but a niggle of doubt circled. Wouldn’t a child have been disturbed by all the noise, the activity?

  She nudged open the first door on the left as per Zak’s instructions and peeped inside to reveal a beautiful, light, fresh nursery in hues of mellow, reflective cream which prismed the sunlight over the room in soft haloes. They’d made it light and bright, a border around the middle with a display of sweet cartoon elephants in muted greens and blues, yellows and pinks. Something for all eventualities. She suspected they’d kept it neutral rather than an obvious boy/girl choice.

  North-facing and several degrees cooler, Jenna stepped inside and closed the door behind her to take advantage of the opportunity to reduce her body temperature for a few precious moments while she checked on the toddler.

  Her throat tightened as she flicked her gaze around. The silence a heavy blanket with no feeling of a presence within. Its emptiness echoed in the large, airy room. Jenna blew out a restricted breath as she stepped up to the high-sided cot and stared inside at the mattress, empty but for the thin, powder-blue cotton sheet and the little fluffy grey toy rabbit propped up in the top left corner.

  She circled on the spot, while her pulse kicked up to send a rhythmic throb through her ears to block out the sounds of activity from below.

  As she engaged Airwaves, grabbing Morris King with a deep sense of relief, she cruised her gaze around the room.

  ‘Morris, patch me through to DI Taylor if he’s there.’

  ‘He’s here, just popped in to tidy up some paperwork. Said he didn’t want to be disturbed.’

  ‘Disturb him for me.’

  There was a brief pause before the radio clicked through.

  ‘DI Taylor.’ His clipped tones indicated that whatever reason she’d disturbed him for, it had better be good. ‘Go ahead, Sergeant Morgan.’

  Jenna marched across the room and reached out with her free hand to turn an ornate Victorian brass knob. She clamped down on the panic that threatened to strangle the words she needed to spit out as she raised the police radio to her lips. ‘Sir.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Sir… A quick update for you.’

  ‘Yes.’

  She swung the door open to the vast wardrobe where a child could hide, except for the fact that she’d just turned a neat little brass key before she’d opened it. Locked from the outside, it would prove impossible for a child to close themselves in.

  Regardless, she searched inside. Never assume.

  ‘The sudden death in Coalbrookdale, sir, is not a sudden death.’

  ‘That’s good news.’

 
‘Not really, sir. The woman is alive with trauma to the head. Lots of blood. HEMS have arrived and there’s pandemonium at present. I’m not comfortable with the scene, sir.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Static crackled out across the silence and she appreciated that her inspector kept quiet while she filled him in with the situation. ‘The paramedic says that for a woman who, by all intents, fell backwards, she has a gash on her face and a fat bruise forming on her chin… as though she’s been hit.’ She gave him a brief moment to absorb the information as she crouched down to scan inside the wardrobe, pushing aside the neat little row of clothes hanging there. She patted the wooden floor and reached to the back before she settled on her haunches, frustration stirring inside her.

  As she straightened, she puffed out a breath. ‘I’ve placed Zak Cheetham-Epstein, the husband, in the kitchen. Seems to be in genuine shock. I only have one back up, PC Ted Walker, who is currently scene guard in the hall. He has his bodycam on and recording what he can, but, as you will appreciate, the scene is chaotic.’ Hell was a better description. ‘He’s also ensuring the husband remains separate and doesn’t move from the kitchen, so forensics aren’t compromised. I have no one in with the husband presently.’ She pushed the door closed and turned the brass key to lock it again.

  ‘Why not?’ Surprise edged through his voice. ‘What are you doing?’

  Her gaze skimmed the room, onto the next potential hidey hole. She slipped open a door to the small cupboard under the changing table and ducked down to peer inside. Nothing.

  ‘Searching, sir. My priority is more concerning. Their toddler, Joshua, sir. Mr Cheetham-Epstein was under the impression he’d been put down in his cot for a nap by his mum just before the incident took place.’

  ‘But…?’

  She closed the cupboard door and straightened as she scraped her hair back from her forehead with one hand. ‘But I don’t think he’s here.’

  The taste in her mouth turned sour as she scoured the room once more. Nowhere else for a small child to hide.

  ‘I haven’t had chance to check the rest of the house, but don’t toddlers stay where you put them?’

  At the soft snort on the other end of the line, Jenna considered she may have said the wrong thing.

  ‘I’d like to think he’s somewhere in the house, but the front door was wide open, apparently, when Zak discovered his wife flat out on the floor.’ She spoke her thoughts out loud to gauge his reaction. ‘Perhaps she hadn’t put Joshua to bed. She may have changed her mind. Zak claims to have been upstairs. Maybe Joshua saw what happened, tried to rouse her, get her to respond.’ She envisaged a toddler squatting beside his mum, chubby fingers poking at her cheek, and blinked the image away.

  Facts. She dealt in facts.

  Jenna circled around while she cast a quick glance at the wide windows and stepped over to test them.

  Locked.

  Relieved, she turned away. ‘Maybe he went to find daddy.’ Her mind trawled through the myriad of possibilities as she vocalised, trying to get inside an eleven-month-old’s thoughts. Their abilities. She’d no idea the physical abilities of a child that age. What could they do? What were they capable of? She studied the high sides of the cot bed. Was he skilful enough to get out on his own? It seemed terribly high for a toddler to scale.

  Her mind spun with possibilities now he wasn’t where she’d expected him to be. Questions fired in her head. What vocabulary did they have? Would he cry, or go silent and hide?

  Keep it simple, realistic. If he witnessed what happened, how would a child respond to his mummy being hurt? Where would Joshua go? What did he see?

  What if Zak was lying?

  She lowered her voice as she ran the possibility past her DI. ‘Maybe Mummy and Daddy had a fight.’ She circled around. ‘Or Mummy fell, hit her head. Perhaps it was an accident.’

  Taylor’s soft tones came through the radio. ‘SOCO will verify either way.’

  Jenna turned her back on the window and squinted. ‘Perhaps with the door open, Joshua wandered out, simply interested in the surrounding area that he’s possibly restricted from seeing, or maybe he trotted away, worried, stressed, unable to understand what happened to Mummy. It’s all happened in a short timeframe; he can’t be far, sir. He’s only eleven months old.’

  ‘I have a grandson that age.’

  She drew in a breath. ‘I can’t find him. He’s not in the nursery, sir.’

  The long silence told her everything. DI Taylor had a personal involvement. His grandson was the same age. Same sex. It made it personal, whether he wanted it to or not. They may be police officers, but they all had a heart and a weak spot, or possibly just empathy and understanding. An incident may happen to open their eyes to a victim’s plight, give them more of an insight into their own emotions. It could make a better officer of them.

  It had happened to Jenna. Life had never been the same since her sister had been kidnapped. It had taken another diversion again since she’d witnessed a colleague shot in front of her, half his grey matter sprayed over her.

  DI Taylor’s voice cut through the building tinnitus to drag her back. ‘Jesus, kids. If they’re not terrorising you, keeping you on your toes, giving you the run-around, then they’re giving you a mild heart attack. Just when you think you have them pinned down, sussed out, they turn around and surprise you again. The fear never stops.’

  As a grandparent, she suspected he felt the fear more than he had as a parent.

  ‘Zak’s fear appeared real, sir. He’s beating himself up because he never thought straight away about his son. He was fully focused on Imelda. There’s a lot of blood from the head injury.’

  ‘That’s not unusual. Probably in shock.’

  ‘He feels he should have thought of Joshua sooner.’

  ‘What do you feel?’

  She cast her mind back. ‘Either he’s a bloody good actor, or his response was genuine. He’s traumatised, both by his wife’s ‘accident’ and because he forgot about his son momentarily.’

  ‘He’s going to be a whole lot more traumatised if you can’t find his son.’

  She drew in a long breath, the dread of informing Zak that his son was nowhere to be found tightened her jaw as she clenched down while Taylor’s voice cut in.

  ‘He could be anywhere. Under the stairs. Hiding because he’s frightened. Asleep somewhere because he hasn’t a clue what’s going on. We’ve had it happen with us when grandma and I were on grandchild duty.’

  She almost spluttered at the surprise personal insight but held onto the laughter before it came out. It was rare for DI Taylor to expose his private life in such detail.

  ‘Little devil was under my desk, fast asleep with our Benji.’

  She remembered Taylor’s golden retriever. Huge, hairy and a great alternative for a child’s cuddly toy. Soft and gentle, she could imagine the dog was the perfect childminder.

  Jenna narrowed her eyes and surveyed the room while she was speaking with Taylor. There’d been no mention of a dog, or pet of any kind, but then Zak’s shock had wiped his memory clean of his son for a few precious minutes.

  She plucked her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger. The place didn’t have a dog. It was too sterile. No pet hairs. No indication. She cast her mind back, nothing in the kitchen to indicate animals, no water or food bowls.

  She raised the radio to her mouth again to cut out any noise that filtered through from the hallway. ‘DI Taylor, sir, I could do with some uniform backup. I can’t imagine he’s gone far, but the more eyes, the better.’

  Knowing the man as she did, it wouldn’t surprise her if he visited the scene himself. A strong police officer, a PC for years before he was promoted, he still held a belief in keeping his feet on solid ground and didn’t hesitate to engage in front-line policing if he felt it was required. He’d roll his sleeves up, muck in. And had the respect of every officer on the force for that ability. He’d turn up on the pretext that he was overseeing, when in
fact the man hankered after getting his teeth into a project. Whether he did with this one, she’d leave that decision to him.

  ‘I'm certain we'll find Joshua in the house somewhere. If he wasn’t in bed, if he was with his mum at the time, he’s more than likely been frightened by whatever happened. Could be our only witness. I’d suggest we have backup on standby to start a search and possible house-to-house if I fail to find him here. Could do with an extra few pairs of eyes in the meanwhile.’

  ‘It’s all in hand, Sergeant Morgan. Morris had them all lined up on standby while he listened to the paramedic response.’

  Relieved DI Taylor and Morris had that side of things in hand, Jenna paused with one hand on the brass doorknob as she cast one last look around the room. There was no point in re-tracing her steps. It was empty. There was nowhere else for the toddler to hide.

  ‘Acknowledged.’

  ‘The only thing we can’t do is get the helicopter up in the air if you need a neighbourhood search, not until the Air Ambulance has cleared the area.’

  She understood that too. The airspace around the gorge would be too constricted. They’d need one out, one in.

  She turned the knob and swung the door open, almost swallowing her tongue as a huge figure stepped from the shadowed hallway into her space.

  ‘Bloody hell, Mason, what the hell are you playing at?’

  It took a mere split second for the surprise on his face to whip away and be replaced by his boyish smile. ‘Hey, Sarg. Good to see you too.’

  Her heart stumbled, and then raced on. ‘Jesus Christ, I nearly shit myself.’

  He gurgled out an unrepentant laugh. ‘And here was me thinking you’d missed me.’

  ‘Missed you?’ She absolutely had. She just hadn’t realised it until that moment. He was exactly the person she needed by her side, someone she could rely on. Someone who knew her mind as well as she did and would do exactly what she needed him to do.