by K Pierce
She sat back in her chair. She wanted to respond but she couldn’t think of anything witty or clever to say. She swung gently on the chair willing her brain to work. Sod it, something was better than nothing. What about the tenth person? What did they say? Emily tapped back. She pressed send and opened the next message. Before she’d read halfway down the profile the computer dinged. There was a small heart above the message icon.
The tenth person was an arse. The new message read. The computer dinged again Hi, I’m Annie by the way
When Fiona stepped into the office an hour later, she found Emily tapping furiously on her keyboard and laughing out loud.
‘What did I miss?’ She said, chuckling as Emily almost leapt out of the chair. ‘Did you not hear me come in?’
‘Sorry, I was just chatting.’
‘I noticed. To which one?’ Fiona slid a bagel in front of her.
‘Thanks. The redhead. She’s very witty. We’re currently discussing our best and worst movies, and when I say discussing I mean she’s ripping the piss out of my love of chick flicks and rom coms.’
‘I like her already.’ Fiona said.
***
It had been a very long and very tiring day. Nat pulled the car up the driveway and stepped out into the cool night air. She took in the houses on her street, most of them dark and quiet at this hour, and revelled in the silence. She loved living here. The house was only small and situated on the far side of a remote cul-de-sac just outside of town. Backing onto farmland and fields it offered the solitude that she craved after being around people all day.
Letting herself in Nat shrugged out of her jacket and kicked off her boots, sighing happily at the coolness of the wooden floor on her tired feet. The office had been manic. After much debate about releasing the photographs of the victims clothing, and whether it would antagonise their killer or force him to go underground, the higher ups had authorised the move. A hotline had been set up for anyone who might have information. They’d started with three phones and by the end of the evening had another nine on the go. Luckily extra PCSOs and dispatchers had been brought in to man them, but it had been a hell of a noisy afternoon. Disappointing too. Nat wasn’t a fan of hotlines, too many crazies with too much time on their hands tying up officers that could be doing other things, but it wasn’t her call. She’d spent most of the day chasing down leads that went nowhere, and to top things off they’d had a call from the hospital to let them know that Gaz Shepherd had gone to the toilet and never come back. The young officer who’d been assigned to him was in deep shit over that one. She was so glad that Gaz was no longer her problem. Barry had taken to his new role like a duck to water. He was still the same man she’d been working with for the past five years, but now he had a new air of authority about him. He was confident. She liked it.
Nat switched on the lamp in the lounge, not surprised to see her ginger cat, Quinn, sprawled like a starfish across the sofa cushions. ‘I missed you too, dude. You know other cats actually greet their humans at the door after a long day at work.’ There was a sound in reply, but she couldn’t tell which end of the cat it originated from. She shook her head and wandered through the open plan living room into the kitchen.
The fridge, and most of the cupboards, were empty. Not a great lover of cat food she settled on chunky cookies and peanut butter; the supper of champions. When she turned, she was greeted by the flat, fluffy face of Quinn on the worktop. ‘I swear, you are like a chubby ninja.’ He let out a loud meow and then a yawn before giving himself a bath on the kitchen counter. ‘Do you have to do that there?’ She asked. ‘I do have to do food related stuff in here occasionally.’ He ignored her. ‘And I am talking to my cat. Again.’ She sighed, grabbed a spoon for the peanut butter, and flopped onto the sofa.
Nat flicked on the tv and started channel surfing, stopping when the face of her Chief Constable flashed up on the screen. She listened to his monotonous voice as he talked about the case and showed pictures of the victim’s clothing. She wondered, once again, if it was a mistake to go public with what they had. They had now lost whatever element of surprise they might have had by revealing that they’d found the body. On the other hand, they weren’t likely to catch anyone when they had nothing to go on.
She pressed a button and the channel changed to some low budget horror series. Nat was about to switch over but one of the girls caught her eye. She looked strikingly similar to Emily, the woman she’d met at the hospital and the date she’d had to turn down. She watched for a moment, remembering the golden highlights of honey coloured hair, warm brown eyes and a smile that could melt anyone’s resolve. She felt a trickle of disappointment that she’d had to cancel their date and briefly considered sending Emily a message to rearrange. She let out a breath, dating Emily wasn’t fair on anyone. Stevie had made it clear that the odd hours she kept and the way that things sometimes affected her were not dateable qualities.
She switched off the television and dropped her spoon into the sink. After checking the door locks, she dragged herself to bed.
***
Friday was a busy day for Emily. While Fiona was the talent behind the designs that they completed, Emily was the one who made sure that she had all the resources that she needed. They worked well together, and over the past few years Fiona had shown her more and more of the design side of the business in the hopes of them one day becoming partners. Since Fiona’s unfortunate encounter with the fabric shears, they’d had to postpone the start of a large project for the master bedroom of a football star, which had really thrown a spanner in the works. Each project usually took them out of the office for a couple of days at least and there was always another job booked in to move onto. This week, however, Emily had spent almost all her time rearranging the diary, sourcing and ordering stock and helping Fiona with the things she couldn’t manage or couldn’t be bothered with.
Emily had used the few quiet moments that she’d had to speak to Annie. They’d chatted constantly, exchanging numbers and texting well into the night. Emily found that the more she learned about the feisty redhead the more she liked her.
Emily’s mobile phone vibrated against the desk. She smiled at the picture and answered. ‘Hello?’
‘Hi.’ The voice on the other end was a little deeper and richer than she’d expected. It made Emily tingle; definitely not a bad thing. ‘I thought I’d give you a quick call while I was on my lunch break, just to prove I’m a real person. And by real person I mean not a sixty-year-old guy called Dave.’
Emily laughed. ‘That’s very thoughtful of you.’
‘What can I say? I’m a thoughtful woman.’ Annie said. ‘What’s going on at your end?’
The door in front of Emily opened and Fiona stopped in the doorway when she saw that Emily was on the phone. She raised an eyebrow at the light blush that dusted Emily’s cheeks. ‘Oh, you know, being worked like a dog and slaving away for peanuts.’ She smiled at the chuckle in her ear. Fiona stuck her tongue out and gestured that she was leaving for a meeting with a potential new client and would be back in an hour. Emily turned her attention back to the phone. ‘How’s life with you?’
‘Not too bad. I’m at a primary school today. Little kids are the cutest.’ Emily could hear the smile in Annie’s voice. ‘I love taking their class pictures.’ Annie was a freelance portrait photographer, a job that she’d stumbled into by accident to make ends meet but had quickly fallen in love with. ‘I’m nearly finished though, and then I’m shooting a wedding.’
‘On a Friday night?’
‘Apparently so. No early night for me.’ There was a murmur in the background and Annie said a few words away from the phone. She came back loud and clear a moment later. ‘Emily? I have to go. My next tiny models are here.’
Emily nodded before she realised that Annie couldn’t see her. She rolled her eyes.
‘I was wondering though,’ Annie continued, ‘If you’d be interested in meeting up on Sunday afternoon for a drink? I know w
e’ve only known each other for a few days but life’s short so why not, right?’
Emily smiled widely. ‘I’d love to.’
‘Great,’ there was another murmur, ‘I’m sorry but I really have to go. I’ll text you later with the details?’
‘Ok.’ Emily was still grinning like an idiot long after she’d hung up the phone.
8.
Emily woke up to a sharp pain in the side of her neck. The room was dark, aside from the glow of the television. Netflix was asking her if she was still there, apparently upset that she’d fallen asleep during the series she’d been watching. She slowly hauled herself upright and squinted at the clock. It was almost two in the morning. She groaned loudly and rubbed a hand across her face. She’d been asleep for almost four hours.
The little LED light on her phone flashed to let her know she had a message. She clicked on the lamp beside the sofa and picked it up. Two missed calls and three messages, all from Annie. Emily winced. Annie had texted her at nine to let her know that the wedding reception was in full swing and she was serious about meeting up. Emily had fallen asleep not long after that. She tapped open her unread messages. The first one had been sent just after midnight.
Am about to leave but just wanted to wish you goodnight x
The second had followed almost half an hour after that.
Tried to ring you but I guess you’re busy or sleeping. There’s nothing like breaking down in the arse end of nowhere on a wet Friday night *sigh* x
The third was ten minutes later.
Sorry, tried to call you again, in desperate need of a lift but you apparently sleep like the dead! X
Panic rippled through Emily. She couldn’t believe she’d slept through two calls and various texts. She tapped Annie’s name and waited for the call to connect. No answer. She tried again. No answer. She stood, unsure of what to do or where Annie had even broken down. Her mind was racing. She was just about to try again when her phone pinged in her hand.
Hi. Sorry, I’m in bed. So tired.
Emily let out a breath and typed out a reply.
OMG, so sorry, was asleep. Are you ok? X
I’m fine. Someone came and got me. Night x
Emily frowned at the abruptness of the dismissal. Then she remembered the time and how manic Annie’s day had been. She couldn’t really blame her, not everyone had the luxury of crashing out on their sofa like she had.
***
It was Saturday evening before Annie finally surfaced. Emily spent the day attempting to stay busy instead of fretting that Annie was pissed at her for leaving her stranded on the side of the road. That, she argued with herself, would be ridiculous since they’d only known each other a few days but people were odd and stranger things had happened.
Emily had cleaned the house, done two supermarket trips - after forgetting toothpaste the first time round - and had gone for dinner at Fiona and Kat’s before her phone finally announced the arrival of a message. She couldn’t help the grin on her face when it finally did.
‘About bloody time. I thought you’d be sulking all sodding evening.’ Fiona grumbled.
‘Leave her alone.’ Kat, Fiona’s wife and always the voice of reason, smiled. ‘It’s sweet that you like this girl so much and I know it’s been a while since your last girlfriend but please slow down a little, give it some room to breathe.’
Emily nodded slowly but said nothing. She opened the message
Hi, sorry about last night, was so tired. Felt like the walking dead
Guilt at not being there when someone needed her tugged at Emily’s conscience. She tried to shake it off, knowing it was irrational, but she’d always had that inclination to help, especially those who were in a bit of a pickle. She tapped out a reply. It’s ok, I should be the one apologising for not being around, glad you made it home eventually though x
Me too!
Are we still on for tomorrow? X Emily asked. Her phone stayed stubbornly silent for a good ten minutes. She frowned and checked the signal, full bars.
‘What’s up?’ Kat asked when Emily checked her phone for the fifth time. Before she could answer it chirped in her hand.
Sorry, something’s come up for work so I can’t make it. I’ll text you tomorrow? Night
The blow off stung, more Emily’s pride than anything else, but they’d been getting along so well and now it seemed like things were going south. She tucked her phone back into her pocket and tried to hide a sigh with a smile. ‘Nothing.’
***
The investigation had stalled. Nat and Barry had followed up a couple of promising leads but all of them had been dead ends. Phil and Ryan had spent hours poring over the photos and the paperwork that was continuously trickling in from the phones and the uniform canvasses but still there was nothing.
Barry had been on the phone several times to Cumbria in a joint effort to move forward but with little in the way of physical evidence or identification there wasn’t much either of them could do. They were in a rut.
Out of pure frustration Nat had ended up arguing with Ryan over some silly, insignificant thing and Barry had finally put his foot down and sent them all home at lunch time on Saturday, telling them to take the rest of the weekend as a breather before they started again on Monday. All of them had tried to argue but Barry had insisted, reassuring them that he’d call if anything came in. ‘You lot are no good to me with mushy brains, or when you’re at each other’s throats.’
Nat had spent all of Saturday afternoon sleeping. Eventually she was woken up by Quinn sitting on her head. His own special way of telling her to feed him before he eventually suffocated her. After a quick shower and a bucket of coffee she’d finally taken a trip to the supermarket and restocked the cupboards. She’d also gotten rid of the thick layer of dust that had managed to gather since the last time she’d cleaned. The heavens had opened soon after that, forcing her to spend Saturday night curled up in front of the tv with only her thoughts for company. The TV played quietly in the background as she thought about their case, or lack of it more like. Forensics were working overtime analysing hair and fibres but with such open, public crime scenes and no suspect to compare things to it was a difficult task. More than once Nat’s frustrations got the better of her and she tried to distract herself, ending up thinking instead about Emily. She resisted the urge to send a text. Emily didn’t need mixed messages in her life.
Sunday brought with it a little more rain, and the ominous ringing of the phone. Nat’s father had left when she was still doing the backstroke in her mother’s womb, leaving just the two of them for the longest time. Four days after her eighteenth birthday her mother had passed away from a sudden stroke at the age of forty-six. Nat was an only child. The phone didn’t ring very often.
‘Are you decent?’ Barry said by way of greeting.
She looked at the clock on the bedside table. ‘It’s seven in the morning. On a Sunday. What do you think?’
‘I think you should throw on some clothes and some decent boots, brush your teeth and attempt to tame that wig of yours. You’ve got ten minutes.’
‘What’s going on?’ She asked, already swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Quinn’s protesting meow got lost somewhere under the duvet.
‘Another body. I’ll tell you all about it when I pick you up. I’ve got coffee.’ He disconnected.
Tugging the curtain aside Nat pulled a face. Dark, drizzling and probably as cold as a witch’s tit, fantastic. She grabbed a thick jumper, jeans and the thickest socks she owned and moved quickly across the cold wooden floor into the bathroom.
Ten minutes later and she was lacing up her boots when bright headlights cut across the glazed panel in the front door. She grabbed her keys and went out into the darkness.
‘Morning, Sunshine.’ Barry’s voice held no mirth, his hand, however, held a steaming travel cup of what smelled like freshly brewed coffee. She sipped, ignoring the burn on her tongue, and let out a moan of gratitude. ‘Jenny says hi.�
�� This time he smiled.
‘I love your wife. If you weren’t married to her, and she wasn’t straight…’
‘Then you still wouldn’t stand a chance because she’s too good for both of us.’
‘A truer word, my friend, a truer word.’ They settled into silence as he navigated her quiet estate and headed out into the green belt. The roads grew narrower and the lighting sparser. ‘Where is she?’ She asked, referring to their newest victim.
‘About five miles from yours. Farmer’s field. Two farmhands found her this morning while they were out to do fence maintenance in one of the fields. It’s been empty for the past couple of months for one reason or another but now they need to move the cows into it or something. Barry rounded a bend and they were met by crime scene tape, police incident signs and several officers in high visibility jackets. He pulled up alongside one, flashed his warrant card and was waved through.
Nat looked thoughtful. ‘Think he’s from around here? Or just a wanderer? An opportunist?’
‘Who knows.’ Barry said. ‘Nothing’s come back solid on the search for similar unsolved cases, so maybe he’s just started, or he’s changed his MO.’
‘Or there’s been a breakdown of communication, human error, blah blah blah.’
‘I’m hoping for the former.’
Barry turned the car onto the driveway of the farmhouse and killed the engine. The rain had let up for now. The cold morning air fogged Nat’s breath and she squinted into the harsh glare of spotlights.
‘She’s over in the back field, furthest away from the house. Ryan and Phil got here first. They’ve set up a pathway, there’s techs fanned out on a wider parameter doing a grid search. It’s obvious he didn’t come in from this direction otherwise someone would’ve spotted him, or she could’ve cried for help, so it’s easier if we direct all foot traffic this way.’