by Diane Saxon
She looked up from her notes and caught Elks’s sullen stare. There was a possibility he didn’t like anybody.
‘Did McCambridge receive any phone calls before we arrived?’
Elks shook his head. ‘Not to my knowledge. They’re not allowed mobile phones and any private calls have to be logged. Check, but I think you’ll find there’s nothing.’
Jenna took a slug of her water and placed the bottle back down on the table. ‘Dennis, thank you for your co-operation today, we really appreciate it.’ At his soft snort, she met his eyes. ‘I’m sorry you were injured. I hope you have a swift recovery.’
He pushed back his chair to loom over her. This time she felt no need to defend herself, his seething aggression wasn’t directed at her but at the system. ‘It’s not going to be a swift recovery. I’ll probably be off the whole summer – on full pay. Injured on duty. I might even have to take medical retirement.’ He shot her a quick smile, about-turned and marched to the door.
As he left them alone, Jenna rubbed her fingers through her hair as she turned to Mason. ‘Well, that was a bloody waste of time.’
‘Agreed.’ Mason stretched a wide yawn as he looked at his watch. ‘How do you think Donna and Ryan are getting along with questioning the four prison officers from the other day?’
‘They’ll be fine.’ She chewed on her bottom lip as a quiver of fear pierced her stomach. ‘Let’s see what McCambridge has to say.’
She came to her feet and made her way to the exit, pausing just long enough to blow out a controlled breath before she swung the iron door open and stepped into the hallway.
Dark depravity spewed from the evilness within despite the heavy sedation. McCambridge’s eyes spat hate the moment they walked into his single-occupancy cell. The four guards never met her gaze but directed their stares straight at the door where they’d probably been instructed to do so.
The veins on McCambridge’s neck bulged as he strained against his restraints. ‘Fucking DS Jenna Morgan. What a fucking pleasure.’ The slight slur in his voice gave her little reassurance that the sedatives were enough.
Jenna narrowed her eyes as she assessed whether or not the man could break free. Fear still vibrated through her system at his close proximity, not from the physical harm he could inflict if he escaped but the mere malevolence of the hatred that pulsed from him.
Aware of Mason towering over the back of her, she perched on the edge of the single plastic chair in the room, every muscle wired in case he moved.
‘Mac.’ Despite the threat, she met his stare straight on. ‘I’m glad you remember me.’
Spittle flew from his snarling mouth. ‘I remember you. I’ll fucking rip your head off the first chance I get.’
Her knees turned to jelly, but she raised her chin in a challenge. ‘You’ll never get that chance, Mr McCambridge.’ She leaned forward, not close enough for him to reach, but near enough for her harsh whisper to reach his ears. ‘You’ll live out your life here in this pitiful cage with all your privileges withdrawn for the foreseeable future. Possibly forever.’ She drew back her lips and allowed the bitterness of her own helplessness to spew forth. ‘I’ve seen to that. No more mixing with the other inmates.’ The deadness in his eyes made her realise he didn’t care if he had company or not. ‘No more television, library, books. You’ve lost all your enhanced prisoner rights.’ His dull gaze barely wavered. ‘There’ll be no more gym. Never again.’
The dull flicker blazed and McCambridge lurched forward, pulling up short against the restraints. ‘Bitch! You fucking bitch!’ Saliva flew from his slack lips.
Jenna surged to her feet, almost backing into Mason as he remained a silent sentinel behind her. She’d known the moment she walked in the cell that there was nothing McCambridge could give her. With slow deliberation she cruised her gaze around his spartan cell. ‘No privileges.’ Her smile stretched wide. ‘Nothing.’ As her gaze came to rest on him, she wrinkled her nose. ‘No drugs. No phones. No nothing.’
‘Fucking bitch!’
His howl vibrated down the hallways behind her, echoed by every other inmate, the sharp rapping of instruments against the metal cell doors creating a cacophony of sound to block out anything, including her own thoughts.
As the inner door clanged shut behind them and Ryan and Donna stepped forward to meet them, Mason gave her arm a brief touch. ‘Let’s get off. By the time we get back to the station, do the round-up, I’ll need food and a can of beer.’
She remembered Fliss’s earlier text.
Reminder: I’ve walked Domino to a state of exhaustion. Out to dinner with the other teachers until 11 p.m. (ish)
There’d be no food for Jenna. She’d have to make her own from the pile of crap they’d bought in the supermarket. She’d probably end up with salad and boil-in-the-bag rice. It would be better than the lukewarm sausage roll Mason had lobbed at her on the way to the prison, in lieu of lunch.
Exhausted from the sixteen hour shift she’d put in the day before, she could think of nothing better than her bed. With only eight hours’ downtime between shifts before they raced back to the station, aware of the critical twenty-four hours, it had been non-stop. It would be dark by the time they got back.
At least the house wouldn’t be empty. Domino would be there.
Mason swung the outer door open and the two guards who’d stepped close to escort them fell back without a word.
Jenna ground her teeth. ‘Coffee. I need coffee.’
33
Monday 10 February, 19:40 hrs
Keys in hand, Jenna poked them at the lock in the door of the darkened porch. Surprised Fliss had forgotten to leave the light on, Jenna blew out an exhausted sigh.
The footstep behind her had her swinging around, arm raised, keys poised ready to jab, only to have her hand caught in the hard fist of a black shadow. As she stepped in close, ready to knee the offender in the balls, his quiet voice halted her. ‘Jenna, it’s me. It’s Adrian.’
The hammering of her heart almost exploded her ears. ‘Jesus Christ, Adrian, what do you think you’re playing at? I could have seriously hurt you.’
Amusement laced his deep voice. ‘Really, you think so?’
In a swift move, she used his grip on her hand as balance and brought her knee up, stopping just short of connecting with him, but it let him know she could have if she’d wanted to.
His hand tightened on hers in a gentle squeeze as he let out a gust of laughter. ‘If you didn’t want to eat, you just needed to say.’
Confusion rolled through her. What the hell was he doing there? He’d never visited her home before, never had reason to. Apart from when Fliss had been attacked by Frank Bartwell.
Jenna’s heart gave an uneasy hitch. He was offering her food, looking after her just the way he had when Fliss had been kidnapped. Was it something to do with Fliss and her case?
‘Eat?’
‘Yeah.’ Without releasing her hand, he raised a bag up and gave it a little jiggle. ‘I picked up a few things in case you hadn’t had the chance.’
She stared at his silhouette. ‘Who the hell are you?’
His deep chuckle reverberated in the dark. ‘Do you want to open the door, or should we stand here all evening discussing it? The roast chicken’s getting cold.’
With the temptation of food too much, Jenna slipped her hand out of his and swung around, poked her key in the lock, getting it in first time, and pushed open the door. She stepped inside, relieved Fliss had left the heating on as the warm comfort of her house greeted her a split second before Domino did. If ever they had an intruder, Domino would have them pinned to the floor in no time as he gave no warning bark, no excited yip. He waited in the darkened hallway in silence, ready to pounce.
Pounce, he did, but Jenna was ready for him and scrubbed his fur as, animated, he twirled in tight delighted circles, stabbing her toes with his sharp claws and walloping her legs with his hard, whippy tail.
When he turned his attention to Adr
ian, she flipped on the hallway light before she removed her coat and tossed it over the stair newel.
Adrian swept his hand over the dog’s side and then scrubbed his head, holding the carrier bag behind his back to stop Domino from devouring the chicken.
‘Where did you get hot chicken?’
‘The supermarket.’ He followed her along the hallway, into the kitchen and placed the bag on her small table. ‘You want to grab plates?’
Confusion rolled through her. The last she’d heard, he’d wanted to meet up, take her out for coffee. She spun on her heel, squinted at him. ‘Adrian, what are you doing here?’
He waved his hand over the carrier bag. ‘Feeding you, as you don’t even seem to have enough time to reply to my texts.’
She had no idea whether Adrian was flirting with her, or whether he just believed she needed looking after. She wasn’t sure she could cope with his flirting, and even less sure if she was able to handle him walking away.
She turned away from him and grabbed two plates out of the cupboard, together with wine glasses to accommodate the bottle of Chateauneuf-du-Pape he dumped on the table along with the rest of the food. Her stomach howled with hunger. She might as well eat before he took it away, but he had a wife to get back to. She needed to make it clear to him that she wasn’t interested in married men.
As he pulled a whole chicken out of an insulated bag, Jenna grabbed her chopping board and laid it on the table in front of him so he could put the chicken straight on it. He followed it with a container of salad, coleslaw and a box of potato wedges. Instead of waiting to be invited, he washed his hands in the kitchen sink, rooted through a couple of drawers before he turned, her carving knife in his hand.
She swallowed several times to stop the watering of her mouth. Baked beans may have been on her menu as the idea of a plain salad had palled. She gathered serving spoons and cutlery for them both and slipped into one of her kitchen chairs, more aware of him with every passing moment. His knee touched hers as he slipped into the chair opposite and she would have shot back to her feet if it wasn’t for the huge dog who’d invaded her space and dumped his chin on her lap, pressing down a ton of weight to prevent her from moving.
‘Domino’s a thief.’
Adrian grinned as he stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork and held it in front of his lips. ‘I think you’ve mentioned that before.’
Jenna lowered her head and started to eat, aware with every bite she took of his observation of her. She tilted her head to gaze at him. She was tall, but he was taller still. Upright in her kitchen chair, she had to raise her chin to meet his eyes.
‘What are you really doing here?’
He pushed a piece of chicken into his mouth, chewed, the muscles in his jaw flexing, so she distracted herself by letting her gaze wander down his neck to watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. He had a nice neck, tanned and smooth. He swallowed again, then stopped chewing, his eyes serious as she cruised her gaze back up to his. He placed his cutlery down on either side of his plate.
‘I needed to speak with you, and damned if you aren’t the most difficult person to pin down, so I figured I’d stalk you, feed you and see what the hell is going on.’ He shrugged his wide shoulders. ‘I’m confused, Jenna. When we met, I got the distinct impression that we shared… something and that if the circumstances were different and Fliss wasn’t missing we’d probably have moved on that. After Fliss turned up, I gave you space. You needed it, but now I feel like the whole situation is sliding away. I don’t like that feeling.’ He puffed out his lips with a husky laugh that had her heart skittering in her chest. ‘Fact is, I like you.’
Heat slid up her neck to warm her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a relationship. It wasn’t easy being a sergeant, working shifts. She wouldn’t date anyone at work, she’d witnessed too many disastrous break-ups to even bother, and there weren’t too many civilians interested in dating a female police officer. Possibly Denton Harper, but that would never be a match made in heaven, despite his attractiveness. She’d realised today he was designed to sympathise and understand the criminal mind. She was too tough, too devoted to her job, black and white. Innocent until proven guilty and then avoided once that guilt was proven.
‘Thank you.’ She cut a tiny morsel of chicken, held it on the end of her fork. It appeared the Chief Crown Prosecutor really did believe in the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. It was time to be as honest with him, even if she did lose her dinner. She scanned the table. Nope, he’d never be able to scoop it up now and take it with him. She’d be on him like a pack of Dominoes.
She took a hard swallow to rid herself of the food in her mouth. ‘You’re married. I don’t date married men.’
Surprise lit his eyes, and then his lips quirked up at the edges. ‘I’m separated.’
‘You said you were married.’ She dashed her gaze down to his left hand, sans wedding ring, and then narrowed her eyes at him while she studied his face.
There was no guilt as he gave an easy shrug. ‘Technically, I am.’
‘You’re going through a divorce?’
‘Yes. But I am still married. In the eyes of the law.’ If nothing else, he evidently believed in the law.
‘Why didn’t you tell Donna that when she asked?’
‘Ah, Donna.’ His eyes lit with understanding. ‘Because I didn’t consider it any of her business at the time and I had no idea you were eavesdropping. Don’t you know nothing good ever comes of that?’
Offended, she snapped her fork down on the table, oblivious of waking Domino as he jerked his head from her lap, her jaw flexed while she glared at Adrian. ‘It’s none of my business either and I wasn’t eavesdropping, I just happened to hear. I was in the same room as you. You must have known I could hear. You never said anything directly to me. I thought you were trying to distance yourself from me after I’d…’ She stuttered to a halt. ‘After I virtually threw myself at you when I couldn’t find Fliss.’
His lips kicked up at the edges. ‘I can’t imagine you throwing yourself at anyone, Jenna. You have far too much self-control.’
‘What did you imagine, then?’
‘Nothing at the time. Quite honestly, I had nothing on my mind except a God’s honest fear that Donna was making a pass at me. I never gave it a thought that you could hear, but even if you did, you didn’t need any complications in your life at that point.’
‘I never considered you a complication.’ He certainly was. She’d told Harper he was a complication.
‘No? You had so much on your plate. I couldn’t expect anything from you. At first, your mind was on your sister. Even when she was found, you were still knee deep in the case. And when you discovered it was Frank Bartwell, you didn’t need the complications of a relationship and certainly not with the circumstances we found ourselves in. I was there to ensure nothing detrimental happened regarding conflict of interest and it couldn’t have been more conflicted if we’d started anything. When we… hugged, you needed… support.’ Hugged could be construed as an understatement, unless that was all he’d seen it as.
‘You think I was looking for a shoulder to cry on?’ She reached across the small table, poked him dead centre of his broad chest. ‘I’m stronger than that.’
Without a flinch, he took her hand in his smooth, warm one. ‘You are strong, Jenna, I have no doubt, but everybody needs a shoulder to cry on at least once in their life.’
Tiredness overwhelmed her. The pressure of the job, the tragedy of murdered women. If there was one thing she needed there and then, it was a strong shoulder to cry on.
‘Everyone?’ Resisting the temptation, she tugged her hand from his. ‘Even you?’
He inclined his head. ‘Even me.’
A sob caught in her throat. ‘Who do you go to?’
He raised a hand and scratched at the dark bristles forming on his chin and gave a rueful shrug. ‘These days? There’s no one around. It used to be
my wife.’
‘Your wife?’ Deflated, she leaned back as adrenaline seeped out of her. Perhaps he needed a sympathetic ear too. ‘What happened?’
‘Work.’
‘Work? She surely knew what you did when she married you?’
‘She did. But she never realised how many hours she’d spend alone. And when the revelation eventually hit her, she found someone she could spend more time with.’
‘A younger man?’
‘That’s the beast of it. Not a younger man. An older one. Older than me by probably five years. Older than her by eight.’
Surprised, Jenna couldn’t disguise her interest. ‘Where did she meet him?’
‘He was our builder.’
‘Oh.’ Uncomfortable, Jenna picked up her knife and fork and stabbed at more food to push into her mouth. ‘What was he building?’
‘The extension to our house.’ He ran his tongue over his teeth and squinted into the distance. ‘So we could start our family.’
‘Oh, fuck.’
His snorted laughter was anything but amused. ‘And that they did. In our extension, in our living room, our bathroom and, I believe, our bedroom.’
His pain filled her chest with the memory of her father doing the same to her mother. She placed her hand on the arm he rested on the table. ‘I’m sorry. How long were you married?’
‘Ten years.’
Surprised, she raised her eyebrows at him. ‘You must have been very young.’ Or she’d misjudged his age.
‘Twenty-two. She was nineteen.’
‘Wow.’
‘Yeah. It was good to start with, we met at university. I’d taken a year out before I went. I was in my third year; she was in her first when we met. We did a lot of growing up together, a lot of partying, but when the partying faded, we found we had very little in common, so we decided kids would be the way to go.’ He took another piece of chicken from the board, speared a couple of potatoes from the plastic pot and placed them on his plate. ‘So, now I’m further down the divorce route than I was back in November.’