by Diane Saxon
She didn’t want the toddler. The brat. She’d given Angel to Fern, but Fern was gone. There was no further use for the child. Zak wouldn’t want it. Not another woman’s child when he was with Emily.
On her hands and knees, Emily dragged herself up each stair, knife clutched in her fist, her breath soughed in a stabbing burn. As she reached the first landing, her muscles turned to water and she slithered down. Her cheek grazed against the rough, woollen carpet. She scraped snapped and broken nails over the dense fibres, her gaze fixed while she studied the rhythmic motion.
Each grunt of pain echoed from a distance. Knife still gripped in the fingers of one hand, she used the wall as balance to push herself to her feet. The white door ahead of her stood open to expose the bathroom beyond. Sweat slicked down the length of her spine, gathering at the small of her back in an uncomfortable puddle. If she could reach the shower, surely she would feel better. She wracked her memory for the last time she’d showered, the stale scent of her own body odour filled her nostrils.
Every muscle screamed as she leaned into the shower cubicle and turned the retro cream, porcelain lever. It wasn’t the genuine article. She curled her lip. Just a cheap copy of the effect she supposed he’d wanted to create.
As the steam rose, she placed the precious knife on the side of the sink and peeled the tight, sticky cotton from her flesh. She ground her teeth at the simple effort of lifting her leg to step out of the bottoms, quiet whimpers escaping her lips.
She squeezed through the narrow opening into the cubicle and turned her face upwards into the streaming flow of water hot enough to flay the skin from her body. Too hot for the weather, the torture of it a blessing. She blinked through the steady downpour and reached out for one of the four bottles of shampoo in the shower rack, then whipped back her arm as the stretch of it shot daggers through her body. Her breath caught in her throat and she sieved air in through her teeth while she waited for the burn to subside.
With more care, she made a slow stretch with her other hand, picked up the macadamia nut shampoo and sniffed. It belonged to her. The bitch. The woman who’d stolen her man. She placed it back and wrapped her fingers around another bottle, admiring the male scent of it before she upended the bottle and dumped a load of shampoo into the palm of her hand.
Slow and cautious, she raised her arm and smoothed the shampoo onto her head, stepping out of the torrent of water to let it pound over her shoulders and down her back so she could froth up. She dug her fingers into her scalp, her broken nails grating deep, disgusted with the thick slide of grease coating her hair. She stepped back and let the heat of the water sluice away the grime before she squeezed a second helping of shampoo into her hand and started again.
Each breath an effort, Emily leaned against the icy white and blue tiles of the cubicle, almost slithering to her knees before she caught herself and grabbed the bottle of conditioner. As she smoothed it on, her eyes slipped shut and exhaustion swirled around her, the darkness closing in to engulf her. Before she was overwhelmed, she ran one hand through her rinsed hair a final time and then closed off the water.
She staggered out of the shower and stared around until her gaze fell on the pale-mint towels neatly folded over a rack. She reached for one, but as the light floral scent of it touched her nose, she dropped it on the floor and took hold of the other one, further up on the rack.
The musky remembered aroma of Zak soothed her senses as she wrapped the towel around her. She curled her fingers around the hilt of the knife and indulged herself in the hypnotic pull of the shiny blade before she padded off, barefoot, to find the bedroom.
As she opened the wardrobe, Emily stared at the vast array of beautiful clothes, hanging in colour-coordinated perfection. She reached inside and took out a short sleeved blouse in a pretty pale pink and held it against her body before the fury gripped her and she stabbed the tip of the knife into it and slashed a tear all the way to the hem and then flung it to one side.
‘Skinny bitch. I wish you were dead.’ She’d never have worn the other woman’s clothes, even if they had fit.
Fury biting at her, she slammed the wardrobe door and opened a second one.
Predominantly grey and black, Zak’s clothing had less hanging space and more shelves. Emily reached in and snagged a plain black T-shirt and a pair of pale grey shorts. She had no underwear and the skinny bitch’s wouldn’t fit. Not in a million years. She hated skinny women. It was always the skinny ones who caused her problems. Fern. Imelda.
She buried her face in Zak’s clothing and drew in the aroma. Exhausted, she tugged the T-shirt over her head and let it fall into place. It stretched over her bosom, but his chest and shoulders were wide enough so the fit wasn’t over-tight. At least it didn’t strangle her like the last set of clothing.
The pale-yellow flowered pattern on the duvet cover bloused cool and inviting as Emily’s eyelids weighed heavy. With a slow stretch, she put one knee on the bed, followed by the other and lowered herself gingerly onto her side, pulling a full soft pillow under her head. Her fingers tightened around the shaft of the knife as she brought her hand level with her face.
As her eyes drifted closed, the reassuring scent of Zak rose from the pillow to cocoon her.
45
Wednesday 14 July, 11:50 hrs
The frosty silence in the car thickened the atmosphere as Jenna stared out of the back-seat window behind Harry as the other woman drove. She ground her teeth as she pressed down on an imaginary accelerator to make the car go faster. A poor back-seat driver, Jenna couldn’t wait to arrive at their destination.
Persuading Zak to leave his son had taken an inordinately long time. Wasted time. They needed to get there and back, as per DI Taylor’s instruction.
He’d wasted even more time, declining to wear a stab vest as it was too hot, he was claustrophobic, he was pissed off. She’d had to insist on it to the point of refusing his request to go home. Once that point was established and Zak, Jenna and Harry had stab vests in place under their T-shirts they were set to go. They might die from heat exhaustion, but at least they were protected if the suspect came at them with a knife. All provided she didn’t slash their throats or their arms, or face. Or any other place the stab vest didn’t cover.
Jenna scrubbed her fingers through her thick hair as she gazed out of the side window. She bloody hated the back seat. Zak had pushed his as far back as possible, so she’d scooted over behind the driver, but each bump and grind into the pitted tarmac of the road had her stomach pitching. It may be a new car, but the visibility from the back seat was limited and the scenery whizzed by through the side window and had her stomach giving a sickly lurch.
Grateful as they drew up outside the house, Jenna reached forward with a firm hand on Zak’s shoulder. He could sulk all he liked, but she wasn’t about to let him out of her sight or protection.
‘Harry?’
‘Yeah. Street’s clear. We’ve a PCSO there. Don’t know him. Do you?’
‘Yeah. That’s Tony. Nice guy. They must have swapped shifts.’
Jenna twisted to look out of the back window and then turned round to face the front again. ‘Zak, I’ll have a quick word with Tony, then I’ll come and get you.’
‘I can—’
‘No!’ Voice firm, she met his gaze as he turned to her. ‘I appreciate you can, Zak, but we’re under instructions here, so I would request you don’t.’
His eyes darkened with moodiness, his mouth tightened, and she met the challenge with one of her own. They’d already tried the soothing approach, but Zak needed to be on a leash, not mollycoddled, or he could put himself, and effectively them, in danger.
‘Give me a few minutes.’
She caught the quick twitch of Harry’s eyebrows and knew he’d be in safe hands with her. She’d stand no nonsense for the sake of a little lost pride and bullishness. She’d kick his arse to keep him safe if she needed.
Jenna slammed the door behind her, shaking off the small pe
al of irritation. Not even annoyance. She understood his anxiety, his desire to get on, protect. But it wasn’t his job. That was down to her and her team.
‘Hey, Tony.’
‘Sarg.’
The gleam of sweat beaded out over his top lip.
‘You should get yourself in the shade, the sun’s fierce.’
‘Yeah, I know. It’s full pelt on the front of the house though and nowhere to hide without losing the full view.’
‘Anyone in or out this morning?’
‘Nah. Not a soul. It’s been very quiet.’
‘Not SOCO?’
‘No. They’ve recorded everything, collected all the physical evidence and said they might return later. They’ve left the place in quadrants and asked that the scene remain preserved in case they need to revisit it.’
Jenna inclined her head. ‘Okay, we’re going to be as quick as we can, because our suspect is still at large.’
Tony puffed out his ruddy cheeks as he shook his head. ‘Disappeared completely. She must be holed up somewhere, Sarg.’
Jenna rested her hands on her hips and squinted as the sun beat down. ‘Got to be. We have everyone on it. She can’t be far.’ She surveyed the surrounding area and brought her gaze back to the PCSO. ‘Go down into Ironbridge, grab yourself something to drink, something to eat. Some shade for half an hour. It’s too bloody hot to be out in this. I’ll have a look at what we can do to provide some shade when I get a minute. Get that bloody tent up we had the other day. Don’t know why they took it away, but I’ll check.’
Tony’s eyes filled with concern. ‘You sure you don’t want me to hang around?’
‘No, we’re good. I’ve got Harry Darling with me.’
Tony snorted. ‘You wouldn’t want to mess with her.’
Jenna let out a laugh. ‘I don’t.’ She gave him a moment. ‘Go on. Half an hour, forty minutes tops.’
Relief circled through his eyes as he turned and slipped into his car. He’d roll it down the steep embankment to the Co-op at the bottom of the hill. Air conditioned, he’d probably spend the best part of the forty minutes with his head in cooling units gulping down icy water.
With her own throat already parched, Jenna made her way back to the car as Harry switched off the engine Jenna presumed she’d kept running to keep the air con circulating.
Jenna pulled the front passenger door open and cast another glance around, completely aware of the vulnerability of their situation. As far as she could see there was no one in the vicinity.
She took hold of Zak’s elbow as he stepped from the car and marched him to the front door, glancing over her shoulder as his fingers fumbled with his keys.
‘Take your time.’ She hoped her voice soothed as her gaze caught Harry’s. The other woman shrugged and made her way across the road and up the front garden path. For a hot summer’s day, not a soul was around. The majority of them at work or school, leaving the mums and toddlers, who had probably all gone down to Coalbrookdale to sun themselves along the banks of the River Severn and indulge in leisurely picnics while the kids ran around in circles in the shade of the ancient trees.
Zak pushed open the door and indicated for Jenna to step inside ahead of him, not, she suspected, out of a sense of self-preservation but more an in-grown old-fashioned courtesy.
She hesitated. ‘No alarm?’
Zak shook his head. ‘Your scenes of crime guys rang last night, they had an issue setting it when they left. I was on my way to the hospital, so I told them to leave it until I returned.’
Jenna stared at him. So, he left it to now to inform her?
He didn’t seem to think it was an issue.
She stepped inside and took in the complete annihilation of his hallway by SOCO. Small flags and demarcations littered the floor and walls with the dirty brown smudges of dried blood smeared up them. She made a mental note to check when they would return to clear the area in readiness for Zak and his family coming back.
Jenna turned her back on the scene and stood between Zak and the length of the hallway as she indicated for him to precede them up the stairs. As he went, she caught Harry’s gaze. ‘I’ll check things out down here while he gathers his stuff.’
‘Okay.’ Harry trotted up the stairs behind him, keeping close on his heels.
Jenna turned and stepped her way through the mess as she headed off into the large lounge. In the absolute silence, she scanned the serenity of the room, in complete contrast to the scene in the hallway. She wandered over to the rear windows which reached out into the dappled, tree-populated gorge, the lush greenness of it stretched for miles beyond her eye-line.
Perfect peace engulfed her, and she never had to question why anyone would buy a property in such a place. The harmony of it wrapped a blanket of comfort around her.
Coolness in the shaded room pushed back the heat of the day and allowed the zing in her ears to subside. A mild buzz vibrated, giving her a massive relief from the whole frenetic movement of the past few days.
She raised her hand to place it on the window but withdrew it before it connected. From the white dust, they’d already taken fingerprints, but just in case they decided to tackle it again, she wouldn’t want to complicate the situation by introducing her own DNA.
With one last look over the panorama, Jenna turned her back and wandered through to the hallway, her keen gaze touched everywhere as she made her way through to the kitchen.
The instant she pushed open the door, her blood ran cold.
‘Fuck.’
Not even SOCO would make such a mess.
She dashed her gaze around the room to take in each drawer almost off their hinges, every cupboard wide-open, the scatter of crisps over the otherwise immaculate tiles. Tiles she remembered being completely clear the last time she’d been there a mere couple of days ago. Cupboards that had been neatly closed.
Jenna stepped deeper into the room to peer at the contents of each cupboard and drawer, her mind focused on the bizarreness of it, her feet crunched over the crumbs littering the floor.
She stopped as she came alongside the bottle of Châteauneuf du Pape. It definitely hadn’t been there before. There was no reason for it to have been placed on the kitchen surface now. Not unless someone was about to drink it.
She stepped closer to the vast windows providing the perfect view and held her breath until it burned while she stared into the open drawer containing sharp knives. Each one laid neatly next to the other, even spaces between them, stepping up in size from left to right, with a gap where one last knife should be.
Jenna puffed out the breath that burnt her lungs and backtracked to the dishwasher. She cracked the door open and cast a quick glance over her shoulder before she peered inside. Clean. Empty. No missing knife. Nothing. She pushed it closed and came up onto her toes to walk across the expanse of the kitchen as she raised Airwaves to her mouth and kept her voice low.
‘DI Taylor.’
‘Sergeant Morgan.’
She drew in a long breath through her nose, her sharp gaze flitting around the room to take in every anomaly. ‘Sir, I believe I may have a situation.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘I believe someone has breached our security at some point.’
‘In what way, Jenna?’
Her pulse skittered to a halt in her throat and then tumbled onwards.
‘Someone’s been in. Done a search. Not SOCO. Untidy.’ She assessed the room. ‘Panicked.’
‘Are they still on the premises?’
Jenna raised her chin and listened for sounds from above. The silence resonated in her buzzing ears. Unnatural silence.
‘Possibly.’ She started for the door, conscious every word spoken the minute she stepped into the hallway could be heard.
‘Sergeant Morgan, get yourself out of the building and wait for backup. It’s on its way. ETA seven minutes.’
‘Sir. I would. Only Zak and Harry are already upstairs.’
‘Shit.’
/> ‘Aye, sir. It’s silent up there.’ She hung back, desperate to race up the stairs, but aware she needed to keep communications open. ‘They should be gathering Joshua’s belongings, but I can’t hear a thing. I’ll leave Airwaves open, but I need radio silence while I check.’
‘Sergeant. Take no risks.’
‘Acknowledged.’
On light feet, Jenna stepped through into the hallway and placed her foot on the first step. She took a deep breath and toed her way up the stairs, tilting her head to catch the slightest sound, aware that the complete silence was more ominous than the hustle and bustle she’d expect of someone gathering items in a hurry.
As she reached the landing, she pressed herself against the wall and held still, straining to hear anything. But there was not a single sound, just the heavy pulse of an eerie silence.
She touched her fingertip to the bathroom door and gave a gentle push. She narrowed her eyes as the untidy pile of clothes on the floor grabbed her attention. They’d not been there before. She knew that for a fact. She glanced around the otherwise empty room before she moved past the doorway and further along the landing.
‘You brought another fucking woman into our house?’
The sour vitriol in the woman’s whispered tones froze her to the spot and she leaned her hand against the wall to keep her balance. The bright flash of gunshot filled her vision as she squeezed her eyes closed.
Jenna shoved her own memories aside and held her breath. She took a step forward until Harry’s left shoulder came into view.
‘Emily.’
‘Don’t you fucking ‘Emily’ me. We’ve been through this before.’
Jenna crept another step closer to the open doorway of Zak’s bedroom.
‘No.’ His voice held a thread of steel. No shake to it. No hesitation. ‘Emily, put the knife down.’
The chill in her veins turned to ice as Jenna gave a quick glance down at her radio to make sure it was open. The reassurance of the red flashing light eased her mind.