by Diane Saxon
As the heat of the snuggled up pair pulsed through, Jenna took a sip of her wine and hummed her appreciation as it slid down her parched throat. She tipped her head back to rest it on the sofa. ‘Horrendously long. In some ways satisfying, in others not.’ Too exhausted to run into complicated explanations, she bullet-pointed it for Fliss. ‘We found Joshua.’
‘Fantastic.’
‘Yeah. It was… satisfying.’ Understatement of the year, but if she went into detail, she might just blart all over again and she was already worn down. ‘We reunited him with his dad.’
Fliss patted her own chest as she blinked a hint of tears away. ‘That’s amazing. What a relief.’
‘Yeah. More than I can tell you. The mother, Imelda, is out of her coma.’
‘Wow!’ Fliss jiggled herself upright and pushed Domino off her lap so he lay on the sofa instead of her. ‘Another relief. How is she?’
Jenna shrugged. ‘They’ll be carrying out tests over the next few days to see how much she’s been affected by the head trauma.’
‘That’s positive. What about the baby?’
‘As far as we’ve been told, all the obs on baby are good. They don’t think it’s come to any harm.’
‘Amazing.’
‘I know, isn’t nature so wonderful that a mother’s body can protect her own child? Even in the face of such trauma. Unfortunately, initial signs indicate that Imelda may not be able to walk. Or talk.’
‘Oh, no. How desperately sad.’ Fliss raised her arm as Domino squirmed his way back across her lap.
‘Mmm, it could improve, according to the Glasgow Coma Scale.’ Jenna hitched her shoulders. She had no in depth knowledge of the scale, she only knew that they hoped for improvement.
‘And have you caught anyone?’
Important enough question and the one that troubled Jenna the most. ‘Not yet. It’s been a long day. We’ve been carrying out all the relevant enquiries, but we still have so much to do.’ She swiped a hand over her weary eyes. She’d wanted to keep it short and sweet, but the case was too complex for that. ‘SOCO are in the house where we found Joshua, but they can’t find anything. They’ve taken prints, but they can’t be matched to anything on the system.’ As Fliss squinted at her, Jenna expanded. ‘It means the person living there hasn’t committed a crime in the past, so their prints aren’t on file.’
‘Ah, of course.’
‘We’ve identified the car type and are trolling through the registered owners in Telford to check if we can find a match. It’s just legwork now.’ She met her sister’s gaze. ‘Do you mind if we talk about something else. I’m knackered.’ Mentally, physically, emotionally.
Fliss threw the veil of sadness off and painted on a bright, false smile. ‘You want food?’
Jenna rolled her head sideways to look at her sister and grunted. Her ankles and feet throbbed with the heat and every ounce of energy had drained from her. ‘I can’t be arsed to move, Fliss.’
‘We have pizza.’
Jenna huffed out a laugh. ‘Fucking marvellous, you miracle. If I can manage to raise my arm, I’m sure to love it.’
‘Christ, Domino, it’s too hot to snuggle.’ Fliss slipped her arms under Domino’s deep chest and lifted him clear so his feet stood on the floor. She pushed herself up and headed towards the kitchen. ‘We’re slumming it. I’m not sitting at the table tonight. I had a long day too.’
Domino hung his head for a moment, then sighed before he ambled after Fliss, ever on the lookout for food.
Jenna raised her glass, took another sip of wine and closed her eyes as the savoury smell of pizza wafted through the open doors from the kitchen. She damned well loved her sister.
She just knew.
She always knew exactly what it was Jenna needed.
42
Wednesday 14 July, 03:15 hrs
Dim lighting filled the room with a soft glow.
Emily’s tongue remained welded to the roof of her mouth despite the amount of water she’d slugged down every few minutes during the night. She’d lost count of how much she’d had, filling her glass from the jug on the side, finding no relief as her dry, split tongue remained swollen.
She reached out for yet another glass of water and gulped it down, and her bladder responded with a sharp spasm to remind her she hadn’t been to the toilet all night. She searched her memory for the last time she’d visited the bathroom, but it remained a fog.
She shuffled up onto her elbows and then swung her legs over the side of the bed, kicking aside the single, starched white sheet as her head reeled and her vision wavered. Her naked feet touched the ice cool of the tiled floor and she sucked in a breath at the deliciousness of it on her overheated flesh.
The lead weight of her entire body dragged at her, so she had no choice but to sit while the wild spinning in her brain settled to slow revolutions.
She took her time, gazed around her and then reached for the drawer in the bedside locker. She slid it open to find nothing apart from the bunch of keys she’d kept on her for days. Since she’d been to Zak’s house. She closed her fist around them to stop them from rattling as she slid them from the drawer and then checked in the cupboard below. Nothing.
Emily rubbed her fingertips over her dry lips as she considered the set of keys in her hand. Four keys. Front door, back door, no idea what the third was, but the fourth was the key to a car. An Audi.
She raised her head and drew in a deep breath, coughing it out again as she ran her gaze around the room with its dim lighting, barely enough to see by. It served her purpose. She preferred the dark.
As she slipped to her feet, she wavered for a moment before she stumbled towards the brighter light of a bathroom. She paused, pulled open another cupboard door and peered inside before she took out a small holdall, then moved onto the next cupboard. A handbag and a plastic carrier bag containing what could be toiletries and pyjamas.
Emily sneaked into the bathroom and slid the lock across the door before she rooted through the bags while she sat on the toilet and peed, the warm gush of it alleviating the pain in her full bladder. She sighed out her relief, closing her eyes against the bright white light of the bathroom.
When she opened them again, she held up the handbag. She tucked her hand inside and drew out a purse. She flicked through the contents, snatched out the cash and shuffled through it. Forty-five pounds. It would do. It would get her a taxi.
Hand on the grab rail, Emily hauled herself up from the toilet and stared at the dark yellow urine as she flushed it away, the overpowering scent of ammonia wrinkling her nose. Too much alcohol. Dehydration.
If Fern was there, she’d be giving her shit by now. But Fern was gone. She was no longer answerable to her. It was for the best. Pious bitch.
Fingers shaking, Emily dragged clothes out of the plastic carrier bag and held them up before she flung them to one side, annoyance curdling in her stomach, the sharp acid punch of it spiking her temper.
‘Fuck it.’
No way could she fit into them, they were way too small. Skinny cow with clothes no use to a normal person.
She shoved her hand into the holdall and pursed her lips. No underwear, but she dragged out a pair of pyjamas. Grey stretchy bottoms, which she yanked over her legs. The material strained over her thighs and the elastic stretched as wide as it would go to get it halfway up her belly, leaving a roll of fat to spill over the waistline.
Frustrated, she grabbed the thin, matching top and inched it over her bosom, tugging it down until it barely met the waistline of the bottoms.
Heat rushed up her neck into her face as she ground her teeth, biting down on the urge to scream at the top of her voice as she met her gaze in the mirror under the unforgiving white light.
See, you don’t need Fern. You can do it yourself, the reassuring rumble whispered in her ear.
Dark purple streaked in heavy bruises under her eyes and her once bright skin dulled, angry red spots peppering over the top of her nose and
across her forehead. She’d been like this once before, but it was a vague memory. Distant and foggy.
She sucked in a breath through flared nostrils and whistled it out through gritted teeth. ‘Fuck.’
Insistent, the dark voice whispered in her ear while butterflies carried out their wild dance in her stomach to make it jitter and jump.
She stared at the discarded bags littering the floor at her still naked feet.
‘Well, that was a fuckfest. No fucking good to anyone.’
She pulled the light cord and plunged the room into darkness as she sneaked from the bathroom, heading down the long corridor and out of the door.
Surprise streaked over the taxi driver’s face as Emily wrenched open the door and slipped inside. She bounced onto the back seat with guttural grunts as she pulled the seat belt around her while the pyjama top rode up to let her belly slither out while the taxi driver watched her in the mirror. If she had the energy, she’d tell him to where to go. But she needed him.
She bit out the address before the last vestige of strength seeped from her body. Her head flopped back on the seat and she closed her eyes, allowing the soft bloom of clouds to take her under…
‘We’re here, mate. You want to wake up?’
Emily cracked open her eyes, the temptation to tell him to fuck off on the tip of her tongue again before the memory of where she was nudged into her consciousness. ‘How much do I owe you?’ Her voice didn’t sound right to her own ears. Rough and raspy, it growled out of her throat.
He turned in his seat. ‘Eleven pound eighty, mate.’ His judgemental gaze flickered over her as she unfolded the money she’d held scrunched in her hand and passed him fifteen pounds. ‘Keep the change.’
She pushed the door wide, whipping in a sharp gasp of breath as she straightened.
The taxi driver wound his window down. ‘Are you going to be all right, mate?’
The voice inside screamed for her to scream at him, but instead she sent him a tight smile. ‘Just lost my baby, mate, but I’ll be okay.’
The driver’s face went blank before he turned away, awkwardness in every angle of his shoulders.
As he drove off, Emily stepped through the gap in the hedgerow and made her way further up the street to the address she really needed, her bare feet tender on the cracked and broken footpath.
Zak’s house stood tall and imposing, light reflecting from the upstairs windows as the sunrise bathed the landscape in golden hues and bounced back from the darkened glass.
Emily pulled back as her gaze caught the distinctive uniform of a police community support officer, the vibrant yellow of their high-visibility jacket jarred her senses.
Clothes already too tight for her seemed to squeeze even more as the humid start to the day heated up.
Emily sank down and curled into a tight ball in the floppy overhang of the hedgerow. Brambles and nettles pricked at her skin as she concentrated on the figure outside Zak’s house. Heavy eyelids slipped closed and she tucked her head down, resting her forehead on her knees. Her usually bright mind stumbled and shut down.
43
Wednesday 14 July, 09:20 hrs
Jenna swiped her coffee from her desk and headed for the incident room with the hope that matters had moved on overnight and they’d have more answers than they had the previous day.
Frustration bloomed at the slowness of the information filtering through. She wanted it now. Bam, bam, bam. But that wasn’t the way the system worked.
They should be celebrating the discovery of young Joshua and the recovery, albeit minimal, of his mother, Imelda. Instead, everyone was on tenterhooks, searching for a ghost of a woman who barely existed.
The dull murmur of early-morning voices enveloped her, blocking out the high-pitched hiss in her ears as she stepped inside the incident room.
Salter and Wainwright were the first to fall under her scrutiny as she waited for the team to assemble. The pair were polar opposites and completely inseparable. They’d worked together for the past twenty-three years and rubbed along nicely, neither one of them aspiring to promotion, happy to do ‘real policing’, as they saw it. Grafters. Stuck in a time warp both were content with, they put in good old-fashioned policing, doggedly working through each case. Every time a new computer system was introduced, they’d attend the course, grumble about how much more time they spent doing paperwork since computers had been introduced to cut down on paperwork. Then they’d return to their age-old methods of getting out of the station and talking to real humans with real lives who knew the gossip. Between them, their detection rate was one of the highest in the force.
Jenna had confidence the pair of them would have information from their visit to Emily’s workplace they’d made the previous afternoon.
Pleased to see Donna and Natalie together at Donna’s computer, Jenna sidled over and nudged her backside onto the edge of the desk. ‘I thought you were on a late today.’
Donna glanced up and shot her a bright smile. ‘Not on your life, I’m not missing out on this. The most interesting thing since… well, since Fliss went missing.’ She grinned again. ‘Never had a case like this one. So complex, I want to help fit all the pieces of the puzzle together.’
Jenna smiled back. She’d quite liked the lack of high-profile cases. Just for a time.
DI Taylor scratched his head as he ambled in, his crisp white shirt tucked into his neat-as-a-pin trousers with their perfect, straight crease down the front. No evidence of sweat under his armpits, his pristine wife simply wouldn’t allow it. His black clip-on tie snapped neatly on his over-tight collar so his neck bulged over in a little roll of skin. His gaze skimmed the room and settled on Jenna as he inclined his head.
Flustered, Ryan rushed into the room, eyes filled with panic as he skidded to a halt in front of Taylor. He veered off and shot to the back of the room to hand over one of the takeout coffee cups to an indolent Mason, who leaned against the windowsill, taking in the little fresh air that the safety catch would allow through. The rattle and hum of the ancient air-con system struggled to access the incident room, one of the hottest in the building. Ironic, as it was the most frequently used and more likely to be filled to capacity, as it was now.
Harry wandered in, eyes puffy from lack of sleep. She hadn’t needed to come back on an early, but she’d want to stick with her assigned family as much as possible. She gave a wide yawn as she found the last empty chair and slumped into it.
Satisfied all her team were there, Jenna drained her cup, dropped it in the recycling bin, pushed away from the desk and made her way to the front of the room to join DI Taylor.
As silence fell, she took in the additional members, not necessarily regulars but there were none she didn’t recognise from recent cases. Several uniforms, press info lady, the new intel analyst, smart, attractive, long legs, short skirt. She wore what she wanted. Sexual harassment didn’t feature on her agenda. One death stare from her and she could slay a man from twenty paces.
‘Good morning,’ Jenna began.
The grumbled responses brought a crooked smile to her face. It wasn’t that early. The sun had been up for around four hours. She’d been out with a prancing Dalmatian at five o’clock, the cooler air at that time of the morning a refreshing change. She could breathe. The pleasure of walking through knee-high grass and watching Domino dance across a field full of early-morning rabbits that he really wasn’t interested in except for a gentle lope after them before he returned to her side.
By the time she returned home later, it would be too hot again to walk a dog, and yet he still needed the exercise. She could take him down to the River Severn at Ironbridge and let him swim in the shallows. The water levels had dropped so far that the current was more of a meander than a mad rush. Fliss would probably come with her. It was rare their days finished together and having Harvey call in when they both had a full day might prove useful. They’d yet to trial it properly. Today was the first day he’d visit, but they’d all agree
d that if it was too hot, he shouldn’t take Domino out. Although the woodlands would be ideal, Jenna had her reservations. She’d always have her reservations about those woodlands. Possibly any woodland ever again since that’s where Domino had been attacked before Fliss was kidnapped.
‘Okay.’ Back to business. ‘We have a dangerous woman still at large. Let’s do a quick round-up and get back out there looking for Emily Shenton.’ Jenna turned her head. ‘Salter, Wainwright. What have you got from your visit to Emily’s employer yesterday?’
Wainwright leaned back in his chair, his cool casualness a reassurance. ‘Aye, we met with the MD of the company, Phil Lowestoft.’
‘Bit of a wanker,’ Salter inserted.
‘Bit of a wanker,’ Wainwright agreed. ‘Believed that sexual harassment is a one-way street. Only men sexually harass. All women are innocent.’
Jenna rubbed her forehead. As a police officer, she knew with conviction that men were abused, stalked and beaten, not on such a high scale as women, but far more often than the general public believed. Twenty per cent of women and four per cent of men suffered some kind of sexual abuse from the age of sixteen. Men were less likely to report such abuse as they found it an embarrassment. Professionals, in particular, were reluctant to report it.
Jenna had heard rumours of a solicitor who’d recently been beaten up by his police officer girlfriend and declined to inform the police to save face, in his opinion. Her opinion was any police officer physically or mentally abusing a partner wasn’t fit for the job and she’d keep a close eye on that officer from now on. Until then, she’d take it as a rumour as she had no information from the horse’s mouth as such.
Personally, Jenna would never tolerate abuse on any level, physical, emotional, obvious or insidious. She’d recognise it immediately and put a stop to that shit straight away. She was lucky with her current love interest. Not only was Adrian lacking in any prerequisite to be abusive, but it appeared he was a nurturer. She also went with the theory that absence made the heart grow fonder as so much of his time was spent in London on hot cases.