Before I Wake

by Clare Revell

  Isabel beamed at DI Holmes. “Guv, is there any chance we can go to Scotland to interview Sara Barnes? She’s that artist who painted the picture that looks like me.”

  DI Holmes laughed. “No.”

  “We could bring back George Harmon at the same time.”

  “No.”

  “OK. Zander said that’s what you’d say, but I figured it was worth a chance.” She grinned. “I’ll ring her instead.”

  “I’ll do it,” Zander said. “However, I have something important to tell you first.” He guided her back towards her desk. “Guess what?”

  “You’re fired?” she suggested.

  “Nope. DS Philips is away for two weeks as the baby’s coming. So, guess who just got promoted to squad sergeant?”

  Her face lit up. “You? Really?”

  He beamed. “The Guv wants two—” He broke off as Isabel squealed and hugged him tightly. He hugged her back. “I wasn’t expecting this at all. The Guv says it’s permanent as he needs two sergeants. He’ll tell the others later this morning. So, I need—”

  “—to go and buy cakes,” Isabel interrupted. “Promotion cakes.”

  He chuckled. “No. I need to phone this artist. Can you ring the Scottish nick and find out when they are returning George Harmon, please?”

  Isabel grinned. “Yes, Sarge.” She tilted her head. “Should I salute or curtsey?”

  Zander roared with laughter. “Just make the call.”

  Isabel gave a mock curtsey and pulled the phone towards her as she sat at her desk.

  Zander pulled the card from the in-tray on his desk and grabbed his own phone. He dialled Sara Barnes’ number. Fingers drumming on the desk, he waited for her to pick up.

  Screaming kids sounded in the background. “Nemec residence,” said a clipped American voice.

  Had he dialled the wrong number? “Hello? This is DS Ellery from Thames Valley Police. I’m trying to get hold of Sara Barnes. I was given this number for her.” This was the first time he’d said his new rank out loud.

  “What’s this in connection with?” the American asked.

  “One of her paintings.” Zander consulted his notes. “Lost Love.”

  “Has it been stolen?”

  “No, but it has cropped up in a current investigation. Could I speak with Ms. Barnes, please?”

  “One moment.” A clunk indicated the phone had been put down. “Sara, phone.”

  There were muffled voices, then a couple of clicks. “Hello?”

  “Ms. Barnes?” Zander asked.

  “Yes, though I go by Sara Nemec these days. You’ll have to forgive my husband, he’s never off duty and very protective.”

  “Off duty?” Zander tapped his pen on the desk.

  “He’s a DI based in Tannoch. How can I help you?”

  “It’s regarding your painting Lost Love. It’s currently hanging in the Abbey Gate Gallery in Headley Cross. I was wondering if you could tell me a little about the subject matter. Did you make her up?”

  “Why?” her husband spoke again.

  “Ignore him,” Ms. Barnes/Mrs. Nemec said.

  Zander now had no idea what to call her.

  “The phone’s on speaker so I can hear you over the riot the kids are having in the other room,” she continued. “I was commissioned to paint it. The photo of the girl wearing that dress arrived in the post along with instructions for the size and so on.”

  Zander’s heart twinged. “A photo? When and who commissioned it?”

  “I’d have to dig out the letter, but it was to be sent to the gallery in Headley Cross on completion.”

  “What is this really about, Sergeant Ellery?” DI Nemec sounded annoyed.

  Still not sure why an American was working over here as a DI, Zander tossed the pen into the pen pot. “The subject is the spitting image of my partner and part of a wide scale murder investigation. If you could find that letter and let me know who commissioned the painting that would be a great help.” He gave them his number and hung up.

  Almost immediately it rang again. “DS Ellery.”

  “This is DI Nemec. Could I speak with your senior officer, please?”

  Zander rolled his eyes. “That will be DI Holmes. I’ll get him for you.” He held out the handset. “Guv, phone for you.” He covered the mouthpiece. “Seems our artist, Ms. Barnes, is married to a cop and he wants to talk to you.” He handed over the phone, stood, and headed to the kettle. What he needed now was coffee and lots of it.

  “You OK?” Isabel asked.

  “Other than putting my foot in it? I’m fine.”

  “Nothing new there then.” She grinned and elbowed him playfully. “You’ll be pleased to know that I have accomplished much.”

  He glanced at his watch. “In twenty minutes?”

  She smirked. “Oh, yeah. Superbell is flying at full speed today. Tannoch CID are returning George Harmon today by car. Traffic permitting, they should arrive tonight, but they can’t guarantee that. He’ll be booked in here. I’ve arranged rooms in a B&B for the cops bringing him down. I’ve rung my landlord and quit my lease. I have to be out by four o’clock and give him my keys. Oh, and I forfeit my deposit.”

  “Four, today? And seriously?”

  “Yes, and yes. Who’s the Guv talking to?”

  “Sara Barnes’ husband is a cop—Tannoch CID believe it or not. He didn’t like the way I spoke to her most likely.” He took a long sip of the coffee. “And leave your landlord to me. I’ll get your deposit back.”

  “Forget it.”

  DI Holmes put the phone down. “Briefing room everyone.”

  “So much for coffee,” Zander muttered.

  “Take it with you.”

  Zander grinned and carried the cup into the adjoining room. He sat down at the back, sipping it surreptitiously.

  DI Holmes stood at the front of the room. “OK, listen up. DS Philips is on leave for two weeks from today. As soon as I know what the baby is, I will let everyone know. There’s an envelope on my desk for donations for a suitable baby gift. In the meantime, DS Ellery will be stepping up and continuing in the position and working with DS Phillips on his return from paternity leave. I need two sergeants to help keep you all under control.”

  The whole squad clapped and cheered.

  Zander’s cheeks burned hot and he shifted, uncomfortable with all the attention. “Thanks.”

  Isabel nudged him. “And yes, he’ll be buying cakes later on.”

  The cheering doubled in volume.

  DI Holmes held up the postcard of Lost Love. “This painting by artist Sara Barnes, was commissioned with a photo, so most likely is of Isabel. Ms. Barnes, who goes by Mrs. Nemec, will be in town over the weekend with her husband, DI Nemec, of Tannoch CID. They’ve agreed to pop in, so I’d like Zander and Isabel to handle the interview. Isabel, do you have an update on George Harmon?”

  “Ironically, Tannoch CID are transferring him today. It’s a seventeen-hour drive so they should be here very late tonight. We can talk to him tomorrow. Um, on a side note, I gave notice on my lease. I have to be out of my flat and hand the keys back by four.”

  “Today?” Austin asked. “That’s a bit much.”

  “Yep. While the landlord understands why I’m leaving, he doesn’t think anyone will want the house anytime soon, so I’m not getting the deposit back either.”

  DI Holmes frowned. “We’ll all go over to your place after lunch and help you pack out of there. Leave your landlord to me.”

  “Thank you.” Relief crossed Isabel’s face.

  “Isabel is moving to a safehouse, before anyone asks.” DI Holmes gaze covered the entire room. “No one is to know where, for obvious reasons. OK, dismissed. Isabel, can I have a quick word in my office?”

  Isabel nodded and followed him from the room.

  Zander made a hasty exit, taking his coffee with him. He sat at his desk and pulled over a file of papers that DS Philips hadn’t had a chance to deal with before being called away.
>
  A cough jerked his head upright. “Can I help you, sir?”

  Chief Superintendent Clydesdale stood the other side of the desk. “I need to see you and your partner, right away.”

  “She’s in with DI Holmes, at the moment. I’m sure they won’t be much longer.”

  “Good. I can kill three birds with the one stone. This way, DC Ellery.”

  Zander stood. “That’s DS Ellery,” he said quietly.

  An unusual, albeit brief smile crossed the Chief Super’s lips. “Congratulations. Then, this way, Sergeant.” He took long strides over to the office at the back of the squad room and burst in without knocking.

  “It’s not up for debate. Can’t anyone knock around here?” DI Holmes managed a smile. “Oh, hello, sir.”

  “I need a word,” CS Clydesdale began without preamble. “Six women are dead. Have your people made any progress at all?”

  Zander rolled his eyes at Isabel as he closed the office door.

  “Some,” DI Holmes said.

  “Such as?” the Chief Super demanded.

  Isabel turned to the Chief Super. “We have a man in custody, another suspect being returned from Scotland, and several new leads. I’d say that’s progress.”

  Zander and DI Holmes exchanged a smile as Isabel finally stood up for herself.

  CS Clydesdale frowned. His gaze fell on Isabel’s pendant. “What’s that?”

  Zander had noted the locket hanging out earlier. While he’d seen the chain occasionally, he’d never seen what it held until earlier that morning.

  Her fingers fumbled for the chain, tugging it free of her shirt. “This?”

  “Show me?”

  Isabel held the pendant out. “I never take it off. My mother gave it to me when I was six. It’s the only thing she ever gave me.”

  CS Clydesdale held out a hand. “Please may I take a closer look?”

  Reluctantly, Isabel removed the necklace and undid the clasp. “It has her photo in it and one of me as a baby.” She opened the locket and held it out.

  The Chief Super took it, and his eyes widened. “Lydia?”

  Colour drained from Isabel’s face. “I’m sorry? You know my mother’s name?”

  His piercing gaze took her in. “Your mother was Lydia York-Smythe?”

  Isabel took the necklace from his hand and refastened it around her neck. She tucked the locket back under her shirt. “It’s just York. How do you know her?”

  “We knew each other pretty well a long time ago.”

  “She died when I was eight. Well, technically she killed herself with a drug overdose. I went into the care system.”

  CS Clydesdale frowned. “What about the rest of your family?”

  “I have none. My mother said she was an only child and her parents were never in the picture. We moved around a lot. My father left her a long time before I was born. Why?”

  “How old are you?”

  Isabel did a double take. “I’m twenty-four. But what’s that got to do with anything?”

  “I think…” CS Clydesdale paused a moment, his usual unruffled expression gone and, in its place, consternation and confusion, “…I think I may be your father.”

  9

  Isabel’s knees threatened to give way. She eased into the chair behind her with care, trying her best not to look as if she was about to pass out. She was stronger than that. Although given the speed that Zander rushed to her side, she wasn’t fooling anyone. Her heart pounded in her ears as she tried to make sense of the words ringing in her mind. Talk about a film moment or a cliff hanger cliché. I think I may be your father… “You can’t be,” she whispered.

  CS Clydesdale spun around to DI Holmes. “Nathaniel, can I have the room?”

  “Of course, sir. Zander out.”

  “Sir, I don’t think…” Zander began to object the way Isabel knew he would.

  “I’ll be OK, Zander,” she assured him with more confidence than she actually had. “There’s a list on my desk of stuff we need to do this morning. You could make a start on it. Kind of from the top down.”

  “OK, fine.” Zander gave her one of his looks. “But I’m right outside and I’ll be watching the office. You need me, just retie your hair or something.”

  She faked a grin. “After I spent an hour doing a French plait this morning?”

  The two men left.

  Isabel pushed back into her seat. She kept her face as still as she could, while combatting the storm raging inside.

  CS Clydesdale pulled a chair across and sat. He folded his hands in his lap. “This is awkward,” he began.

  You think? Isabel longed to say it. Instead she responded with a slightly more respectful, “Just a tad.”

  He cleared his throat. “Did Lydia say anything about me to you?”

  Isabel’s gaze hit the floor. Again, she ignored her first response of nothing complimentary and went with her second thought. “She told me you didn’t want anything to do with her when she got pregnant. That you paid her to have an abortion, which she obviously didn’t, and then you left.”

  “That isn’t true.” Compassion softened the older man’s eyes. “I was very much in love with your mother. I wanted to marry her when she told me. Raise the baby—you—together as a family.”

  “Then why leave? Why give her money and disappear?”

  “The money was for her to go into rehab. She needed to get clean, she said that’s what she wanted. I dropped her off at the clinic and watched her go inside. Prayed so hard that this would work. But when I came back to collect her, she’d vanished. She’d never checked in. I tried hard to find her, but there was never any trace. Her parents never heard from her, and if she’d changed her name, dropped the Smythe, that would be why we couldn’t find her.”

  “How do I know your version is true?”

  CS Clydesdale pulled out his wallet. He tugged a few photographs free from the lining. They were battered and dog-eared, obviously looked at a fair deal. “This is your mother when we started going out. With me. I was just starting out in the force.”

  Isabel ran her fingertips over the picture. “She’s smiling. She hardly ever smiled. Least not at me. She was too busy with her drugs and boyfriends.”

  “Boyfriends?”

  “That’s what she called them, but I know better now.” She examined the next photo. “Her parents?”

  CS Clydesdale nodded. “They wanted her clean and happy as much as I did. And they wanted to know you. But we never heard from her again.”

  Isabel flicked through the photos again. “Can I take a copy of these?”

  “Of course.”

  She pulled out her phone and took photos of the pictures. “She overdosed when I was eight. I got taken into care until I was eighteen. One group home after the other.”

  “I’m so sorry, Isabel.” His face creased, and his eyes shone with grief. “We all tried to find her. Where were you born?”

  “Bath.”

  “She ran a long way from Carlisle.” He studied her. “I don’t expect you to take all at face value and believe it. I’m willing to do a paternity test if you wish.”

  Isabel shifted on her chair. “You don’t even like me. You made that obvious the first time we met. You don’t think I should be in this unit.”

  Guilt resonated from him. “I’m sorry. I was wrong. On so many levels. You know, not many officers stood up to me the way your partner did that day. Nathaniel tells me you’re one of his best officers.”

  “I don’t know about that.” A wry smile crossed her lips. “Some days I think I wind him up so much he’d love to be shot of me. I keep making mistakes.”

  “That’s how we learn,” CS Clydesdale told her.

  She looked at him. Was he really her father? Someone she could call Dad, eventually? Rely on to be there, to be in her corner, every second of every day? “What happened to my grandparents?” She handed him the photos back. “Are they still alive?”

  He shook his head. “They died la
st year. We kept in touch, hoping someday there would be news of Lydia or you. My parents live in Colchester.” He paused. “I really am sorry for the way I spoke to you the other week. It was wrong and I had no right to do so. It isn’t one of my proudest moments.”

  Isabel nodded slightly, accepting the apology at face value. It wasn’t every day the senior brass apologised for bawling one out.

  “This funeral you went to the other day. I was told it was family?”

  “Gran, well, no relation, really. Mrs. Kowalski kind of adopted me when I first got to Headley Cross. I was alone, she was alone. She took me in, showed me more love than anyone ever had in a lifetime. We’re investigating her death. She was killed using the same poison the Slayer uses.”

  “Could you show me what you have?”

  She nodded. “I need a moment first.”

  He rose. “Sure. I’ll get the others to fill me in.”

  Isabel scrambled to her feet. “Excuse me.” She hurried from the room.

  Zander glanced her way as she hurried past. “Is, you all right?”

  “Yeah, umm, update the Chief Super on the case. I’ll be right back.” She ran from the room without stopping, ignoring Zander when he called her name.

  Taking the stairs, two at a time, Isabel headed up to the roof garden. She shoved open the fire door and ran to the edge. She clung to the railing, sucking in deep breath after deep breath.

  Her gaze scanned the town beneath her. Everyone going about their daily lives as if nothing was wrong. As if life hadn’t just been turned on its head all over again. She pulled up the photo of her mother again and looked at it. How different things might have been. Why had things turned out the way they had?

  ~*~

  Zander glared at CS Clydesdale. “If you’ve upset her again, sir…” He stopped short. Threatening senior officers never went down well.

  “Nothing of the kind. We just chatted a while. I was wrong to have spoken to her and to all of you the way I did before, and I apologise. You’re right, Sergeant Ellery, I was a jerk.”

  Zander’s mouth dropped. Had he heard right? “What changed, if you don’t mind me asking?”