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Blue and red lights sliced through the night as I sat on the step at the rear of the ambulance. My arm was outstretched as a paramedic stitched before wrapping a bandage around it. Words of advice were being spoken but I couldn’t hear them. The lights bounced around inside my head and only single words such as hospital and surgery broke through. A concerned look accompanied the words. I had no response.
I’d watched as the girl from the cage was brought out in a chair with a red blanket covering her small, frail frame. Her eyes flickered around, watching. Her body otherwise still. The street was a hive of activity. Police dogs were out, pulling on tight leashes, uniformed officers were knocking on doors and the street was cordoned off. CSIs had pulled up and were suiting up and preparing themselves to enter the home of Donovan and Evelyn Manders. A home where, at first glance, you would see a small family living daily life and going about their business and causing no concern to the neighbours. In fact, I doubted, the neighbours would even know who lived in that house. The ambulance carrying the child had taken off from the scene with its sirens wailing, a mournful sound. A sound that would carry an echo of the evening through the heart of everyone present.
Aaron approached, his tie undone and hanging from his trouser pocket. “The search team are reporting an office of well-filed transactions, names and photographs of children, email addresses, meeting places of offenders and payments to Jesse. It shouldn’t take us long to identify the girl now.” There was no preamble or emotion. “They ran a well-oiled machine and it looks like it has been going on for some time. Martin has gone with Caroline Manders to the hospital in another ambulance. Children’s services are aware and will meet them there. She was perched on her bed listening to all the noise. She’s not talking to us. It seems they’ve had her well-trained to keep quiet and not react to anything.” He spoke clearly, giving the facts and the facts alone. “There are a few photographs of Rosie in her school uniform. It looks like they were getting her ready to be moved on and prepared for what that entailed before she even went missing. It explains the troublesome behaviour that started just prior, that no one understood.”
I looked at him. He didn’t move. He waited.
“Thank you, Aaron.” He was what I needed to get through this right now. Here was not the place to break. The lights continued to flash and my head pulsed with them.
“Catherine is on her way.”
“I’d expect so.” The paramedic taped the bandage and walked away as we stumbled through the conversation. I rested my hand limply in my lap.
“Sally has been left where she is. Scenes of crime will want to process the scene with her there.” His tone was matter-of-fact.
Tears sprang to my eyes, unwanted, and I fought to keep them back. I clenched my teeth, locked my jaw tight and stared at the floor. I took a deep breath and looked back at Aaron. He said not a word. The phone in my pocket rang again. Tom.
“Do you want me to talk to him?” Aaron asked.
I took another deep breath. I had work to do. “No. Thanks, Aaron. Give me a few minutes to talk to people here, then I’ll go and see him.” I clicked answer on my phone as I walked towards the house.
About the Author
Rebecca Bradley lives in Nottinghamshire with her family and her one-year-old Cockerpoo Alfie, who keeps her company while she writes. Rebecca needs to drink copious amounts of tea to function throughout the day and if she could, she would survive on a diet of tea and cake.
She lives with the genetic disorder Hypermobile Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and secondary disorder to that, Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. These are a part of her daily life and she has to adjust her days accordingly, but she still manages to commit murder and will continue to for a long time to come.
DI Hannah Robbins will return in 2015. Sign up to the newsletter, to make sure you don’t miss the launch date, to find out what happens next and how the team are coping with the events that occurred in Shallow Waters.
You can find Rebecca on her blog: http://Rebeccabradleycrime.com
On Twitter: http://Twitter.com/RebeccaJBradley
And on Facebook: http://Facebook.com/RebeccaBradleyCrime
Please look her up as she would love to chat.
Acknowledgements
This book would not have been possible without the involvement of several people. With my deepest thanks, I am indebted to Denyse Kirkby, Kirsty Stanley and Lauren Turner for their expertise. Any errors, as always, are my own.
Without Simon I may not have made it as far as finishing the first draft and without Keshini I may not have revised it as I did, so thank you both.
There are so many people who have offered encouragement, they are too many to name for fear of leaving someone out and offending, but to you all, I am truly grateful. You are my support network.
Phil, I can’t believe you gave me something so precious!
To Jane Isaac and Mel Sherratt for reading more than one draft and providing me with such great encouragement and fabulous quotes. Thank you.
And to Sharon Sant, for the hours you have put in helping hone this into something I am able to put out there, for your patience with commas, thank you.
To Helen Baggott, I can't thank you enough.
Finally to my husband and children who have never once moaned about the time I have left them to sit in front of my laptop to make Shallow Waters come to life. This is for you.
Shallow Waters (Detective Hannah Robbins crime series Book 1) Page 23