by Carla Kovach
Forty-Seven
I’ve become good at hiding, so good you can’t see me curled up in the seat the other side of the door. I’m not worried about CCTV either, there’s none in this booth. If I cower, don’t look up, my face cannot be seen. I’m just too good at this. You made me this good, you and the others. I don’t want to hide any more, which means you have to go. I don’t like this pub and I never thought you’d come back after our eyes met at the reunion. At that point I knew, you knew, we all knew the score – all four of us.
The Angel Arms. Angel suggests protection, loving – a guiding light, a comforting hug. There’s nothing protective in this dive. Nothing here can protect you from me.
You open your bag and gaze into the void. The red liquorice stick that I posted through your letterbox pokes out. Does it remind you of something? I hope it does. I hope it reminded you of what you lot took from me. It was your fault, all yours, and I won’t let the three of you bring me down. I want my life back!
Lemonade, that’s a change from all the wine you drink. Do you drink to forget? Do you drink to calm those nerves down? Do you sometimes sleep in your shed to hide from your demons? I’ve seen it all, really I have. You are tetchy, I’ve seen you in action. People you work with think you’re crazy, batshit crazy is what they say. Cruel, I know.
A group of lads cheer as one of the team scores a one eighty on the dartboard and… hello, is the creepy landlord giving you a wink? You don’t like the attention, do you? Pretend to look at your phone, classic avoidance technique. That won’t put him off. I know his type and he’s hard for you.
I like how you look out of the window at the car park, taking in your sad reflection through the leaded windows. Can you see how the roaring fire in the background creates a warm glowing halo around your head? You turn, almost catching me watching you. You won’t see the real me through the glasses and the flat cap. You just see a man, mostly hidden behind a newspaper.
‘I noticed you were on the lemonade, so I got you another.’ The pub landlord makes his move. I know he hasn’t got a hope in hell. You clam up as soon as he sits. You won’t drink that lemonade either. You know better. You’ve learned to mistrust from past mistakes.
You’re hiding your nerves well but he can’t see your toes tapping under the table. He can’t see the piece of skin you’ve just torn from the side of your finger. He can’t see the trickle of blood that snakes down your wrist.
‘I recognise you but I can’t remember where from. Pretty young lady. I’ve never seen hair so long, I would never forget your hair.’ The landlord is trying hard to get your interest. It will take more than a comment about your hair.
You shrug your shoulders and half-turn away. You know where you’ve seen him before, as do I. It will click in a moment, I know that much. No one forgets you, especially when you came with trouble all those months ago.
He shifts in the chair and pulls his shirt over his thin frame. His drainpipe jeans brush his sockless ankles and his look is complete with a pair of loafers. He’s in his fifties, weather worn with a tan that was in no way gained from the British winter sun. He points his finger and winks. ‘I know I’ve seen you before. What brings a beautiful girl like you here, and on your own?’
Wait, I can answer that one, can’t I? You don’t feel safe at home. You know I’m back. You can’t get hold of Susan and Dale has turned up dead but you can’t talk, not without them. You know I have something on you. Did you tell them what it was or have you carried that secret around all this time.
‘I’m Samuel. What’s your name?’
He’s a trier, I’ll give him that. Can’t you see she’s not interested?
‘Steph.’
It’s been a long time since I’ve heard you speak. Your voice used to sound so sweet to me but now, hearing it makes me want to wrap a rope around your neck until your eyes bulge. One down, two to go I keep telling myself. Then I get to leave as a winner, with my prize. It won’t be me who brings you in though. I’m working on him at the moment. He will do as I say.
‘Aha! You’re one of the first Stephanie’s to come up on Facebook. Nice pic, Stephanie Baxter. We can be friends now.’
You and Stephanie will never be friends.
‘Do you want something stronger? Wine? A beer? Top shelf? It’s on me.’ He shuffles his chair a little closer until your knees touch. ‘Am I making you nervous?’ Your knee trembles against his.
You grab your bag as you stand, knocking lemonade into his lap as you run off into the rain without so much as a quick glance back. I can’t lose you. You left with luggage earlier. I know you won’t be home tonight.
I keep back and watch as you hurry along the high street, heading to the zebra crossing and away from the centre. The tiny heel of your boot cracks an icy puddle and splashes the hem of your jeans.
I follow you all the way to The Cleevesford Cleaver, a bit of a sinister name for a B&B, but it had once been a butcher’s shop, going back eighty years. I know where you’re staying and I’m coming back for you. Keep safe, my darling. Oh look at the time, Susan will need tending to again.
Forty-Eight
‘Any updates?’ Gina hurried into the incident room and caught up with the new additions to the board. Photos of Dale Blair’s injuries stood out a mile. He bore barely any resemblance to the photos on the Blair’s wall as he lay on the stainless slab. Close-ups of the scratches and bruises were stuck around the main photo, along with one of his neck.
‘Here you go.’ Briggs threw a tea towel at her.
She wiped the rain from her face with the coffee-splattered towel and patted her hair down. She caught her reflection in the window. Straggly wet hair stuck to her forehead and tangled over her shoulders. Dark, burgundy-tinged circles under her eyes. She ran her tongue over her dry lips and almost winced as they flared up.
‘Better?’ Briggs smiled and joined her at the incident board.
‘I need a hot drink. Want one?’ They nodded and Jacob left the room.
Everyone else on the case had gone home. She glanced at the ticking clock above the boards. With the din that normally filled the room, she couldn’t hear it but now, it was all she could hear as she waited for Briggs to break the silence. ‘You don’t look so good, Gina. Remember you said you’d tell me if anything was wrong. I know you love the job but I need to know you’re loving yourself too.’
Not this again. She wished he’d just leave it out. She’d been on top of things for a while now but seeing Mary had brought back her nightmares. She was nothing more than tired after a bad night’s sleep. The nightmares were stupid, really stupid and she hated her stupid self. She wished she could control her mind but it constantly controlled her. ‘Not this again, sir.’ She pretended to look at the other board.
‘You know I care, Gina. It hurts me to see you looking so… I don’t know, tired, unkempt and stressed, shall we say.’
‘I’m not stressed, really. The hours, no problem. The job in all its horror and gore, no problem. Being asked if I’m okay all the time, still annoying.’ She found herself glaring at him. The only expression he returned was one of sincerity and suddenly a pang of guilt washed over her. ‘I’m sorry. I know you care. If you want to know what’s bugging me, then fine. I went to visit my mother’s grave this week and I guess I just miss her, and yes, I do feel a bit sad about it, but I’ll get over it. It’s just a short moment in time and I need to be allowed to simply be sad. Is that okay?’ She finished the sentence with a warm smile, hoping that he would see she was being open with him, it was the truth. She wouldn’t mention Mary though, the woman that triggered her into yearning so badly for her mother. That may make her seem a little too crazy. She wouldn’t mention that Mary was almost a carbon copy of her own mother, even sharing many of her mannerisms.
‘If you need to talk, have pizza or share a bottle of wine, you know where I am.’
Jacob walked back in with a tray containing three hot drinks. Gina pointed at the board and pretended to be
discussing something with Briggs. ‘I just caught up with uniform. Someone popped over to Lawrence’s house but he wasn’t in,’ Jacob said.
‘We’ll go to see him first thing, if that’s okay with you.’
Jacob rubbed the side of his cheek, flinching. ‘I’ve got an emergency appointment with the dentist first thing but it shouldn’t take long. Damn appointment is going to cost a fortune but I can’t wait until Monday.’ His phone beeped and he pulled it from his pocket and smiled.
‘Who’s the lucky lady?’
‘How do you know these things?’
Briggs laughed. ‘She’s a detective, don’t you know.’ He gave her a friendly nudge in the ribs.
His shoulders slumped. ‘I suppose secrets don’t stay secrets for long around here. It’s Jennifer. We’re just arranging a night out.’
‘Jennifer.’ Gina picked a marker pen up and drew a line from Dale to Lawrence with a question mark on the board. She daren’t look at Briggs, not wanting news of their past affair to be revealed by her own expressions. Her secrets were staying secrets, no matter what Jacob said.
‘CSI Jennifer.’ Jacob smiled. ‘I’ll see you in the morning then.’ He grabbed his drink and headed out of the room, towards his office.
‘You need to learn to chill out, Harte. You should see yourself, standing rigidly, drawing a shaky line with the pen. If only your acting skills were as good as your detective skills.’
She gave him a friendly nudge back, enjoying the warmth of his body on her goosebumped arm. ‘Any news from the appeals?’
‘Nothing of any help. O’Connor, Wyre and Smith were following up on all the tall-short, black-white, men-women that were seen at the time. Uniform have been stationed by the bridge and on the path where Dale’s body was found. We have all the details of the regular walkers that use the path and have caught up with some. Nothing useful as yet. I’m sure they’ll fill you in at the next briefing.’ Briggs stared at the pathologist’s photos. ‘He’s taken one hell of a beating.’
‘We were speaking about it being two people.’
‘I get that. He’s a large man and there was no evidence of a trolley or anything else that would have assisted the killer in getting the body to where it was found. This would have been a struggle for two strong people. Do you have any theories as yet?’
‘Only that Ryan was so jealous of Susan talking to anyone he went and punched Dale in the Angel Arms a few months earlier. I don’t have any evidence of his involvement in Susan’s disappearance, all I know is a painful divorce is going through. Who could he be working with? I worry about Clare Collins, Susan’s sister. When I left the house after talking to Mary, her mother, I noticed her watching me out of the window. I also heard someone watching me leave the other night, lurking at the side of the house. When I went around to investigate, they were gone. I think this was Clare as I heard Mary calling her from inside the house but she wasn’t answering. I don’t trust her. Then, I have a witness, a woman called Alicia who lives on the road where Susan’s car was found. She saw a bald man hanging around by the car on the evening when Susan disappeared. And we found the tracker. This keeps coming back to one person.’
Briggs cleared his throat. ‘The tracker results came back, you must have missed the email. It’s a common make. A lot of people use them just in case their cars are stolen, they bring down the price of insurance. We’re hoping that there will be some data that might give us more of a clue as to her whereabouts. This has been requested, but as we know, we never get immediate answers. I’m sure Wyre will keep you posted on that one.’
She nodded. ‘I’ll see if one of the team have found any paperwork pertaining to the tracker amongst Susan’s files. If there isn’t any, we have to assume that someone else placed the tracker there.’
‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘They’ve had paper everywhere. Looked like a tip in here earlier.’ Briggs took the pen out of her shaky hand and placed the cap back on it. For a moment, it felt as though he might lean in to kiss her. She knew he wouldn’t though. ‘These smell a bit strong. Don’t want you getting gassed out.’
‘How about Susan’s phone records. Anything yet?’
‘I’ll let you know as soon as we have them. Her phone is off, we know that much.’
She smiled. ‘I’m going to carry on working at home.’
‘I’ll call you later so we can catch up on any further thoughts on the case.’ He turned and left. She should have said no to the call but she wanted him to call. She might not be inviting him around to share her bed, but to hear a friendly voice, that would be most welcome.
Alone in the incident room listening to the ticking clock, she gazed at the photos of Dale and shivered. Someone out there did this to a person described as gentle and generous in one sentence and secretive and distant in another – secretive, just like Susan. What were they both hiding and who on earth was the other girl in the photo?
‘Guv, a call has come in.’ Jacob took a few deep breaths as he came back in and stopped in front of her.
‘What?’
‘Phoebe has gone missing. Ryan and Susan Wheeler’s daughter. He’s been calling her friends all afternoon and no one has seen her.’
‘I need to get over there now.’
Forty-Nine
Ryan paced up and down his lounge. ‘There was no neighbour looking after them. She’s eleven, nearly twelve. I thought I could trust her to just stay in the flat for an hour while I came to the station.’
Gina watched as Jasmine wiped her tears away.
‘Jasmine, tell them what you told me.’
The girl sobbed.
‘Tell them.’ Ryan sat and stared at her. Gina almost wanted to hug the crying child.
‘Jasmine. I’m DI Harte but you can call me Gina. I need to know what Phoebe told you so that we can find her.’ She smiled at the girl and Jasmine nodded.
‘She said she was going to see Ava’s puppy at the house with the red door. She said she wouldn’t be long. I can’t remember much else, I had my music on. Then it had been ages and she hadn’t come back. Dad came home and we went to look for her. She didn’t answer her phone.’ Jasmine gripped a toy cat and sat cross-legged on the settee. ‘Where is she? Where’s my mum?’ The girl rocked back and forth as she began to sob.
Ryan hurried over to her and placed his arm over her shoulders. ‘Come here, love.’ At last, he was comforting his daughter.
‘What happened next?’
Ryan glared up at her. ‘We knocked at the house with the red door. There is no Ava and there is no puppy. She lied and we don’t know why or where she’s gone.’
‘We’ll put out an immediate alert for all departments and contact the media.’ Gina nodded to Jacob as he stepped outside to make all the necessary calls. ‘Is there anyone I can call for you?’
‘No. Just find Phoebe.’ His face flushed as he hugged his sobbing daughter. ‘I’ve called Mary and Howard. They haven’t heard from her either. It’s not like her to not answer her phone. She’s not with friends. I’ve called them all.’ He let go of Jasmine, leaving the girl once again sobbing alone.
‘It’s okay, chicken, I’m going to do all I can to find your sister.’ Gina flinched as the door knocked. The young family liaison officer stepped inside, shaking her umbrella in the corridor before entering. ‘Thank you for getting here so soon. All alerts should be out now. Keep me updated.’
The woman nodded as she carried on in as Gina left. The rain poured down, bouncing off the canopy outside the flats where Jacob finished his call. ‘Everything’s in motion.’
Gina stared across the street. ‘Who lives at the house with the red door?’
‘I just checked with uniform, an elderly man who can barely get out of a chair. They went in to speak to him and struggled to leave. He described seeing the lass walking down the path staring at her phone, sometime this morning. He wasn’t sure of the exact time but he said late morning.’
‘We need to check her phone records straight away
. Something or someone made her leave the apartment and lie about where she was going. I want to know what. I’ve got a bad feeling about all this.’
Fifty
I’m watching and waiting. Where are you going at this time of the night, Stephanie? Are you thinking, if you creep out of your safe house onto the dark street, I won’t see you? I see everything. You with your bag ready to move on. Is it liberating to know you’re not safe anywhere? My bet is on you going back home. Look at you in your stupid heeled boots. You can’t run in those.
I bet you’re planning on sleeping in your shed again, like you did for a while the other night, or will you doze off against the living room wall, gripping that stupid knife for protection as you drink yourself to oblivion? Is that really the best you can do? I’ve seen you through the glass pane in your back door.
I’m going to enjoy this, but first I need to make a call as Lanky hasn’t called me back. I’m ready to cash in the debt and he’s avoiding me. I snort a little laugh out as I send him the photo with a message. He’ll love this email.
Come out, come out – it’s playtime.
Wait up, Stephanie, I’m coming.
Fifty-One
Gina glanced at her bed through the reflection in the mirror as the home screen on her laptop went off. She thought of Phoebe and her churning gut instinct told her something bad had happened. They were doing everything they could with the door to doors and collecting of CCTV. First Susan, then Phoebe. It was no coincidence. The hairs on her arms raised as she tapped the space bar and Phoebe’s photo appeared on her screen. She closed her laptop and stared down at all her mother’s things laid out on the floor.
The box was open in front of her on the carpet and it released a familiar scent, that of her mother’s house. She smiled as she gazed at the old family photos.