by Diane Saxon
She picked up her pot of moisturiser and dipped her forefinger in, then smeared it over her face, hoping it didn’t fry on her sun-reddened skin. Her face wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be with the sun protection factor high in the overpriced moisturiser Fliss insisted she use. Jenna leaned in closer to inspect her skin. Perhaps her sister was right. Her nose was a shiny rose-tinted colour, but had she not used her moisturiser that morning, it would have been glowing crimson and peeling by now. She raised her sun burnt arms, still smarting from the torrent of cool water she had gushed on them in the shower and then reached inside the bathroom cabinet to take out a bottle of aloe vera gel. She smeared it over her skin and hoped it dried before it stuck to the sheets when she flopped face down on her bed.
She glanced at her iPhone. She’d not even had the chance to pick up messages and had no inclination to start as she checked the time. Those who counted, Fliss and Adrian, knew what she was doing and that she’d be uncontactable for personal reasons until Joshua was found.
Sorrow washed over her again. She needed to help find him, but a body and mind could only do so much without sleep. If she went to bed immediately, she’d get six hours and be back in the station at six o’clock the following morning. That should be enough. It would have to be because she wasn’t giving up until they found him. The sorrow flowed into dread. Dead or alive.
Jenna yanked on the light cord in the bathroom and plunged the room into a dusky grey as she slipped out of the door, barely able to place one foot in front of the other as she crept across the landing with the hope that Domino, who’d already greeted her at the front door, would decide she wasn’t worth getting up a second time for.
She nudged open her bedroom door and, with a jolt of surprise, Jenna’s weariness dropped from her as a blast of icy air enveloped her in a cocoon of comfort and freshness.
Better still, the handsome face of Adrian Hall spread into a sympathetic smile, his beautiful topaz eyes filled with compassion as he lifted a plate on the palm of his left hand as an offering. ‘I do believe you've not eaten, Sergeant.’
She flicked her gaze down at the contents of the plate. Simple and easy. Fulfilling. Tasty. Tempting.
He knew her weakness. Ciabatta, olives, sun-dried tomatoes, mozzarella and a whole row of spicy Italian meats laid on a bed of rocket. An effortlessness meal in itself, but lush and comforting when nothing else would do on a hot summer’s night.
Wordless, she took the plate from him and sank onto the bed, tucking one leg under herself so she could swing the other from the side.
With a smile, he turned and picked up two small glasses of crisp, white wine and handed one to her. Enough to satisfy a small craving, not enough to affect the next day’s work. She knew he would have thought it through and adored him for his thoughtfulness.
She breathed the cold air in through her nostrils and felt the exhaustion lift enough so she was able to pick up an olive and pop it in her mouth, something five minutes ago she would never have believed she was capable of. She'd been quite prepared to face-plant the pillow.
Without a word to her gorgeous chief crown prosecutor, Jenna took a huge bite of the ciabatta, little noises of pleasure coming from deep in her chest as she chewed and swallowed before she took a sip of the crisp white wine.
‘How did your day go?’ he asked.
Jenna took another taste of wine before she answered.
‘Bad.’ She screwed her face up ‘Really bad.’
His expression filled with clear understanding. ‘No word on the little boy?’
‘None whatsoever. He’s disappeared. Taken by someone. We have no idea who. We just found out as we were supposed to come off shift, that’s why I had to stay late. Sorry I didn’t give you the heads up more than I did.’ He gave a lopsided smile and shrugged his understanding while she rolled up a thin slice of prosciutto and popped it in her mouth. ‘I’ve just spent the last bloody six hours chasing my tail and everyone else’s.’ She closed her mind to the clamour of thoughts, processes, leads she could still be chasing. She needed to refresh so when she returned to work, her mind was clear and focused instead of the mild fog that encased it. ‘Every minute that passes is a minute closer to the fact that we may never find him.’
The cruelty of it was, they’d been there before. The last time, it was her sister missing. Jenna’s heart involved. And yet, Fliss was an adult and she fought her own way home. This was a whole different matter.
In reality, an eleven-month-old child was not cut out to survive the heat and the terrain, even if his abductor let him go.
‘We don’t have a clue yet who the hell could have taken him. We’ve got intelligence trying to identify the car. Type, year, etc. We have everyone on it and I’ll check on progress in the morning. I need to do another early.’ She blew out a gusty breath. ‘There’s nothing more I can do tonight.’
Other than physically search for Joshua and she could no longer do that. Not on empty fuel tanks. She needed to recharge.
Eat, drink, sleep.
And possibly a distraction for a brief time. She was so willing to be distracted.
As cool air wafted across her overheated skin to send delighted shivers over her, she nodded at the huge air-conditioning unit in the corner of her room.
‘Where did you get that?’
Adrian turned his head and looked at the piece of equipment that blew out gentle gusts of icy air to cool the bedroom. ‘I have a friend who's an engineer, an industrial engineer. He had two units left over from a job he’d been doing and let me have them for a snip.’
‘How much do I owe you?’
The slow rise of his dark eyebrow made her understand she may just have teetered on the edge of insult when he answered. ‘Nothing. Nothing at all. I never asked for payment, I don’t expect it.’
Skin cool, but heart warmed if not a little confused by his generosity, Jenna took another bite of ciabatta and prosciutto, cramming a sliver of mozzarella into her mouth at the same time. She took a moment to think and chew.
‘Well, I certainly do appreciate you thinking of me.’
Adrian smiled as he placed a hand on her thigh and circled his thumb in a soothing, circular motion. ‘So does Fliss.’
Jenna angled her head to one side. ‘Why would you give us both units?’
‘Why wouldn't I?’
‘Just…’ He made her stutter. ‘It’s just I thought maybe you’d keep one for yourself, for your place.’
He kept his gaze steady on hers as he took a drink of his own wine. ‘I spend more time here these days. I thought the units would be put to better use here.’
Aware they may be tiptoeing around the edge of a precipice and not willing to take that plunge yet, Jenna swallowed another bite of food. ‘Yeah.’ She nodded.
Her heart filled to overflowing with a feeling she wasn’t yet ready to identify or confront as she came to the realisation that the man in front her somehow had become enmeshed deep into her life without either of them making any overt moves. A slow dance, with soft music, they’d waltzed their way into a relationship based on truth, honesty and a deep care for each other.
With slow, deliberate moves, Jenna brushed breadcrumbs from her fingers, set the plate on her bedside table, took the last sip of wine and placed the glass next to her plate. She turned to face him and shuffled closer to where he sat on the edge of her bed.
She raised her hand and stroked the thick, dark hair back from his forehead before she wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘Thank you.’ Her mouth touched his in a featherlike stroke before she drew back to check his reaction.
His straight lips curved up at the edges. ‘The pleasure’s all mine.’
‘It could be mine, too.’ She flicked one eyebrow skywards. ‘You sure I can’t pay you… in kind?’
His eyes darkened as she settled herself in his lap.
She allowed a slow smile to spread as she prepared to distract herself. After all, she was being forced to take six ho
urs of downtime. What better way to recharge her batteries?
23
Monday 12 July, 04:05 hrs.
Anger bubbled and festered inside her, building momentum until it threatened to spill over in one searing, steaming cauldron full of rot as she glared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Skin pale and pallid with fiery red cheeks and a scattering of unattractive freckles smudged across her nose. Why couldn’t she have the smooth perfection of Fern’s flawless, tanned skin?
Emily picked up the bottle of wine and drank straight from it, gulping it down until it was drained. She placed it with over exaggerated care on the side of the bath and then turned away, back to the mirror.
Her brows lowered and petulant eyes glared back at her. It wasn’t fair that Fern got everything. Good, firm skin, pretty face, an abundance of thick golden hair and a petite, slender figure. Unlike Emily’s fat pink wobbliness.
Fucking bitch. She hated her.
She dropped her gaze and skimmed it downwards over her flaccid body with loose skin folds draping from her belly to touch her thighs. Disgust curled her lip while she stared with morbid fascination. She’d tried to lose weight. It didn’t come off easily and, when it did, she’d been left with a pouch of empty skin dragging over the tops of her thighs she could do nothing with.
Fern didn’t have that problem with her flat stomach and narrow hips.
Emily’s thin hair straggled around her wide face. It didn’t seem to matter how much she washed it, it still hung limp, lifeless and by the end of the day would be greasy again.
Hormones, the doctors told her. Each one of the male ones she’d ever seen. It was never possible to get hold of the lone female at the seven-doctor practice. Everyone wanted to see her.
She leaned into the mirror and squeezed at the little row of blackheads pebble-dashing the narrow ridge that ran horizontally over the top of her nose, and watched with satisfaction as white pus bloomed out of them onto the top of her fingernails.
What the hell did male doctors know about female hormones?
She rinsed her hands, dried them on the little yellow hand towel and slipped into her nightie before she padded across the landing into the pretty pastel room where she could sit in silence and peace.
She shot a quick look over at the peacefully sleeping child and slammed down on the revulsion that threatened as she slid her back down the wall to sit on the floor in the corner.
Her eyes fluttered closed.
Explosive cries rent the air and Emily curled into a tight ball, back against the wall, knees up to her chin as she rocked and rocked, the echo of her own tortured moans overwhelmed by the wail of the child.
She clamped her hands over her ears to block out the sound of the shrill shrieks, but nothing worked, even when she pushed the heels of her hands hard into her face until her jaw threatened to break.
The screeches intensified, increasing in volume, ramping up the pitch until the seething, roiling pressure of her mind threatened to explode.
She reared her head up, eyebrows low to darken her vision as she stared at the screaming child holding onto the cot rails with both hands. Her face suffused with dark, angry, mottled crimson. Desperate eyes bored into her as tears streamed down Angel’s face and snot, thick and clear, ran from her nose, over twisted, distraught lips to dribble down her chin in a thin stream of silver.
Emily dropped her hands from her face while the cacophony of sound boomed around the room, ricocheting off the walls as her blood turned cold. The seething bubbling confusion came to an abrupt stop. Deadly nothingness seeped through her veins, encasing her heart in ice.
The backs of her knees smacked down on the floor, her legs stretched straight out in front of her. ‘Little fucker.’ She pressed her hands onto the top of her thighs and leaned forward. She drew her lips back from her teeth and snarled. ‘Little fucker.’ The strangled voice burst from her throat. Not hers. Never hers.
Emily tilted her head and reached out for the child from across the room, fingers stretching for her neck.
‘What the hell do you think you’re up to?’
At Fern’s strident voice, Emily almost shot to her feet. Her legs spasmed and slammed back to the floor as she whipped her head around to stare, narrow-eyed, at her sister.
Fern shot through the doorway to snatch the child from its cot. Her eyes darkened as she spun on her heel to face Emily.
Ever the judgemental bitch.
The ice that had frozen her heart, never so much as cracked, but spread its insistent frozen fingers along her arteries, pushing through to her veins to freeze them too.
Emily curled her lip as she leaned her head back against the wall. The wall she’d never moved from as she’d sat in the corner of the room, well away from the toddler. The voice whispered in her ear, She had never been in any danger of you touching her. Dirty little shit.
She’d never go within a mile of her. Fern was welcome to the brat. She seemed so at home rocking the screaming, squirming child in her arms as though she was the best thing in the world.
She was never that. The only use she had was her connection to her father. Zak. The love of Emily’s life.
She cruised her gaze over her sister’s furious, accusing face. ‘Fuck off, Fern, and take the grizzly little shit with you.’
Fern’s eyes narrowed while she jiggled the child in her arms, sweat popping out on her forehead as the heat and the weight of the toddler had an instant effect on her. The skinny bitch. If she had more meat on her, perhaps she’d be capable of holding the brat.
Emily shot her head up as Fern ran her gaze over her. Her sister kept her voice low and soothing as she addressed her over the head of the sobbing infant. ‘I think you need to leave. I think you need to go right now. And leave me to deal with Angel.’ She cupped the child’s head in her hand as she rocked her, the shiny spill of hair feathered out over her fingers and did nothing to endear the child to Emily. All she could see was snot smeared in silver streaks over the top of the arm of Fern’s navy blue short-sleeved T-shirt.
‘Angel, that's no fucking angel. You know that. Right?’ She placed her hands on the floor, ready to push up to confront her sister. She needed to make her face the truth about the brat. Pleasure circled thick in her stomach at the leap of fear lighting her sister’s eyes and Emily drew her lips tight across her teeth in a vicious snarl. ‘She needs her scrawny neck wringing.’ She spat out the loathing and the vitriol that festered inside her. ‘Fucking child kept me awake all fucking night.’
Fern’s eyes slowly widened, and the fear vanished in an instant as knowledge replaced it to burn there. She stared Emily down. ‘You haven't been taking your medication, have you, Emily?’
Emily scrubbed the back of her hand against lips that had turned dry. ‘I didn't need any fucking medication, there’s nothing wrong with me.’
‘Oh, but there is, Emily.’ Her sister’s voice turned sly and probing. ‘We both know you need to stay on your meds.’ Her body took on a natural rocking rhythm as the child stopped squalling as loudly and her knees, instead of pressing deep into Fern’s flat, skinny belly, slid down to a more comfortable position, her feet dangling loose as her body relaxed.
Emily gazed at the pair of them, the hard ball of fury unravelling as the child’s voice stopped dominating her thought processes and her mind re-engaged.
‘You really have to get some control back.’ Fern jiggled the child. ‘Ssshhh, ssshh, it’s okay, mama’s here.’ She never took her hard gaze from Emily, but she kept her voice soft as she continued to address her. ‘You know what the counsellor advised. We were doing so well.’
There was no fucking ‘we’ about it. Fern wasn’t the one with the counsellor. She wasn’t the one taking drugs that made her feel as though the world revolved on a long, slow spinning wheel she could never quite get off. With sensations numbed so much that if she stuck her hand into a burning furnace, it would take her twenty minutes to realise what she’d done.
Dull. They
’d made her dull as ditch water. So, she’d stopped taking the medication. Just like that! They said she shouldn’t, she’d have withdrawals, but she hadn’t. Not at all. Quite the contrary. Everything was so much clearer, brighter. Like an electrical current had passed through her body and brought it back to life. The edges of her vision glowed, shooting bright white light to accentuate every image.
Her legs gave a convulsive shudder. They were coming back to life too. After too long snoozing on the hard floor, her limbs jerked and twitched, life pulsing back into them. She’d take the pain if it meant she could live again.
If they knew, they’d never let her live her life. They’d force her to take her medication and she’d fade into nothingness again. She couldn’t have that. Wouldn’t allow it.
She glared at her sister, sucked in the fabulous sensations she’d lost for so long, wave after wave of them washing through her. Overwhelming her. Cleansing her of the numbness she’d lived with.
She curved her lips up into a smile. No more counsellor, no more meds. No more weight gain. They did that to her, too. Slapped on the kilograms. Well, no more. She was cured. Even if her controlling sister didn’t understand.
Fucking wow!
‘It was Zak’s fault.’ Her sister would understand this. Surely. She had to realise he’d triggered it. ‘He should never have married that woman.’
With absolute conviction, she appealed to Fern, knowing she’d be on her side. She’d always been on her side, even when they fought. She’d always come round to Emily’s way of thinking. She might give her hell, but she’d stand shoulder to shoulder with her against anyone else.
Except when they insisted on drugging her and making her see the world in a different light. When they’d made her live a half-life and told her it was okay to become fat. Fern hadn’t stood by her then. She’d helped to incarcerate her by simply withdrawing her presence from any meeting Emily had attended. She’d made herself absent.
A myriad of emotions whirled around, throwing a blanket of anger and confusion over Emily to stifle her thought processes until she retreated back into the ugliness.