by Carla Kovach
A bucket caught the rain that dripped from the ceiling. They’d needed a roofer for a while. It was becoming impossible to do the job properly. They needed more available officers; they needed a larger forensics budget; they needed more people everywhere, in every department. An abandoned baby probably wasn’t crime of the century, as Briggs said, but it needed resolving like any other and that’s what she was going to do.
As she passed the main office, she spotted one slightly damaged sausage roll on O’Connor’s desk. ‘Thank you,’ she said as she grabbed it and scurried into her office. She picked up her mobile phone and began texting Hannah. There was no way she’d make their appointment at teatime. She had the DNA sample to organise. She took a bite of the sausage roll and tried to swallow, but guilt won. The lump in her throat was saying no. She spat the pastry in the bin next to her desk and threw the rest of the sausage roll in there too. Letting Hannah down was going to be hard. She’d probably been expecting it, which made it worse.
I’m so sorry, my love. Something really important has come up and I won’t be able to make our teatime date. Send my love to Gracie. I will make it up to you both. Xx
She could picture Hannah’s expression when she read the message. Her face always went a little red when she was flustered. She’d inherited her fair complexion and white-blonde hair from her father, and with that came redness while expressing any emotion. She flashed back in time, seeing Terry’s flushed face as he reached the top of the stairs in their old house, the face he made just before… She sucked in a burst of air and began to hyperventilate.
The sound of pumping blood travelled through her ears. Feeling light-headed, she rolled back on her chair and opened the window, letting the wintery chill fill her office. As she shivered, the memory of Terry and that night began to fade – for now.
Several minutes had gone by, and Hannah hadn’t replied. She was officially being ignored. She blew her nose and took a couple of painkillers. The ones she’d taken earlier had worn off and her head was thickening once again.
Grabbing the file she’d marked up as ‘Library Baby’, she began to pull out the scene photos and make her own notes on the call that had been logged.
Her phone beeped. Her heart threatened to fly out of her mouth as she grabbed it and read the message, but it was just another piece of PPI-related spam, destined for deletion. Hannah wasn’t going to answer. Then, a message from Briggs pinged up.
Can I call you later?
Where the hell was all this going? She knew they needed to talk at some point but it wasn’t going to be easy. They’d made a mistake, that’s all it was. It had meant nothing. Or had it?
Eleven
She drove home just after eleven, along the country lanes just outside Stratford-upon-Avon. The fog blanketing the fields had an eerie look about it in the moonlight. Her heart jumped as a fox darted in front of the car. The creature made its safe escape through a hedge before completely disappearing into the gloom. She reduced her speed to below thirty as she continued with the treacherous journey.
She pulled in off the country road and parked outside her little cottage. As she stepped out of the car, Ebony, her little black cat, ran over and began purring at her ankles. She followed the cat into the house and filled up the feeder. As Ebony crunched her food, Gina threw her coat onto the kitchen table and checked her phone. Still no text from Hannah. Her stomach flipped when she reread the last message from Briggs. She popped her phone in her pocket, turned off the light and headed upstairs.
Standing in front of the washing basket on the landing, she stripped off and threw her clothes at it before entering the bathroom. A damp smell hung in the air. She turned on the light. She badly needed a shower after getting home late the previous night and rushing out in the morning.
The bathwater from the night before stared back at her in all its murky glory. She’d been in such a hurry, she hadn’t even emptied the bath. She reached into the scummy water and yanked the plug. As it emptied, she sat on the toilet and watched the water slowly sinking away. Walking over to the washing basket, she pulled her phone from her trouser pocket and checked for messages. Nothing. It wasn’t as if she was expecting Hannah to respond, but she had hoped Briggs would call.
She logged onto Facebook and searched for her daughter. Her last status was a rant about how people say they love you but just continuously let you down and how they put themselves first all the time. Her friends’ comments were what really hurt. Gina felt a tear slip down her cheek as she read them. ‘Don’t waste your time on people who treat you badly’… ‘Why the hell do you put up with people like that in your life?’
She wasn’t selfish. Hannah had no idea why she wouldn’t fork out the money for Terry’s memorial service or why she always worked late. Her job was important and she needed it, she loved it. It kept her sane. And even if Hannah did know about her reasons for not wanting to pay, would she believe her? The treatment that Hannah’s father had forced on her had turned her into a fighter, and now she needed to continue fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.
The first domestic violence case she’d dealt with had been a success. The suspect had been found guilty and imprisoned because of the evidence she’d collected. She’d since thrown her life into making sure that other perpetrators didn’t get away with it.
The plughole gurgled as the last of the water escaped. She grabbed the untouched glass of red wine that was sitting next to her shampoo and took a swig, grimacing as the day-old liquid swirled around her mouth.
She dropped the phone onto a pile of towels and turned the shower on. She needed to wash away the dirt of the day, ready to begin again. As she lathered up her hair, her phone began to ring. She turned the shower off and stepped out of the bath, snatching the phone in her soapy hands.
‘Sorry it’s late,’ Briggs said.
‘Don’t be sorry,’ she replied. She didn’t know what to say next. Should she mention the previous week? Was he trying to forget it? It had been easy to forget – until she’d been in his office earlier that day. ‘Any news on the case?’
‘No,’ he replied.
Her teeth began to chatter as the coldness of the bathroom enveloped her soaking body. She reached for her bathrobe, sat on the toilet seat and pulled the material over her knees.
‘About the other week, sir—’
‘Sir, sir, sir. Just call me Chris when we’re not at work.’
‘Are we not at work?’
‘You make it hard, don’t you? If you want me to end this call, just say. I’m not into staff harassment.’
‘Sorry. I’m not good at this.’ Gina shivered again. What did she want? It was one night, not a relationship, not even planned, but the thought of it made her smile. ‘I’m glad you called.’
‘That’s a start. About last week, I don’t think it should become common knowledge, you know what I mean?’
Through her shivering, she felt her face flush with an uncomfortable hotness. Ebony ran up the stairs, licking her legs as she wrapped her body around Gina’s dripping ankles, depositing fine black hairs all over her feet. ‘Me neither. I won’t say anything, no need to worry about that.’
‘That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it or wouldn’t like to do it again some time—’
‘Stop. You don’t have to say anything else. It shouldn’t have happened. Really, it doesn’t matter.’
‘I like you, Gina. Think about things and we’ll have a pint or a coffee or whatever you want.’ He fell silent. She didn’t have an issues sussing out the perps, but when it came to her personal life, she felt like a clueless teenager again. She didn’t want to admit that she’d enjoyed the night, that it had been the release she’d needed after so many years. Flashes of her desperate hands running through his sweaty brown hair and gripping his buttocks tight raced through her mind.
‘I might take you up on a coffee. A pint would be too dangerous,’ she replied.
‘I like danger.’ With that final
comment, he ended the call. Gina grinned and leaned back on the toilet seat. The soap suds from her hair dripped into her eyes, stinging. She dropped the robe onto the floor then stepped back into the shower to finish what she’d started.
Twelve
Sunday, 3 December 2017
Gina yawned as she grabbed the three coffees from the side. She placed one on Jacob’s desk. ‘Let no one tell you I don’t care,’ she said as she placed O’Connor’s coffee beside him. ‘Give the lab a call and see if they’ve run the DNA test yet? If not, tell them to get a move on. I need it yesterday.’ O’Connor nodded and continued to munch on his bacon butty. Gina hurried along the corridor, closed her office door and sat in front of the computer. Jacob wasn’t exaggerating when he said they’d received a lot of irrelevant calls about the baby case. Her inbox was bursting at the seams with what the service desk had forwarded to her.
There was a tap on the door and Jacob entered, holding his drink. ‘Thanks for this,’ he said. She leaned back in her chair. Jacob swigged his coffee and ruffled his other hand through his messy hair. ‘That call yesterday has certainly thrown up something odd with this case. The quicker we get the results back the better.’
‘I’ve nudged O’Connor to chase up forensics. I did mark them as urgent so I’m hoping to hear soon.’
One of Jacob’s eyebrows lifted slightly. ‘That’ll be a nice bill.’
‘It certainly will be, but how the hell are we meant to do our job without forensics? Our budgets over the past few years have been pathetic and I doubt the next few will be any better. I’m sick of being told we’re overspending, that we need to cut back and save it for the crimes that matter. An abandoned baby matters, crime of the century or not.’ She felt a familiar itch in her nose and grabbed a tissue off her desk just in time to catch a sneeze. ‘I’m not feeling at my healthiest today. Damn Smith for bringing in the lurgy last week.’
Jacob’s phone beeped. He smiled as he picked it up and scrolled down the message. ‘Looks like Abigail’s giving me another date opportunity.’ He tapped on his keys while staring intently at the screen. ‘That’s that sorted.’
Gina’s phone lit up and a text popped up from her daughter.
We’re coming round this evening. If you’re not there, that’s it. I’m sick of you cancelling. Can’t you put us first, just this once, instead of your stupid job?
Gina turned her phone over and stared at all the emails that had been sent. She’d deal with Hannah’s text when she had a moment. ‘I thought they filtered the crank calls out before forwarding them to me,’ she said to Jacob. ‘The first one I open says that the person reporting saw flashing lights in the sky before a beam of light shone from some sort of flying craft. Apparently, a package was sent down from the Lord. Where do these people come from?’
Jacob laughed and looked up. ‘I sense you’re working with a closed mind, guv.’
‘Closed mind, my arse.’
The door burst open and O’Connor stood in front of them, panting, his face red. ‘Ma’am, the results weren’t what we were expecting. I think you need to put your coffee down before I say another word.’ Jacob put his phone in his pocket and looked up at O’Connor.
She took another swig of her coffee to lubricate her dry throat and tossed the empty cup in the bin. ‘Okay. We’re ready for it.’
‘Remember the Deborah Jenkins case, four years ago? The disappearance?’
‘Just about. It was when I first started here as inspector.’ It had been the first case in her new role and she’d failed to solve it. Maybe this was her second chance. Gina stared into space and then clicked her fingers. ‘Don’t tell me. Young woman. She leaves work late. It’s close to Christmas. She vanishes without a trace. The only thing we have in evidence from that night is a shoe we’ve confirmed to be hers. The shoe, from what I remember, was found by the roadside. What has that got to do with the baby case?’
‘That’s the thing, guv. Her husband provided us with her toothbrush and razor back then, which allowed us to obtain and log her DNA on file. Her DNA is a match for the baby’s.’
Gina stared at O’Connor. She’d been promoted to inspector at the start of the case and had been transferred from Birmingham to Cleevesford, where there was a post. She remembered the investigation all too well. It had haunted her for months afterwards. She could still see the look on Deborah’s husband’s distraught face. Luke Jenkins.
She was there when they found the body of a woman in the river, down by the Marcliff Weir. That had been a few weeks after Deborah’s disappearance. She’d been the one to ask Luke for something that may contain his wife’s DNA, for elimination purposes. She remembered him holding his children and sobbing into the little girl’s hair. After obtaining the DNA and cross-matching it to the victim, it was found that the woman’s body was not that of his wife, Deborah.
From what she remembered without opening the file, the body had never been identified. No one had been reported missing at the time. She remembered the hours they’d spent going through missing persons, trying to find a match. Appeal after appeal brought no new evidence or witnesses to light. The only thing they knew was that the woman had died by drowning approximately four weeks before she was found. There was no evidence of trauma or violence but there had been track marks on her body. Images of the woman’s body flashed through her mind as she thought back. She remembered her waxy skin, her thin strands of light brown hair with dark roots. Her slightly crooked nose.
She shivered. ‘Well, well. Deborah Jenkins. It’s been a long time. She’s still close by and she’s alive,’ said Jacob.
‘That’s a result I wasn’t expecting,’ said Gina. ‘Bloody hell.’
‘Who could the stranger on the phone be? The one requesting the DNA test?’ O’Connor asked.
The wind howled and rain began to hit the window. Gina dragged her old cardigan from the back of the chair and pulled it over her shoulders. ‘I’d bet all the money I have that he’s the father. What on earth is going on? She vanishes for four years. She gives birth in secret a couple of days ago. Her baby turns up outside Cleevesford Library. A man calls anonymously.’ The room was silenced as everyone fell deep into thought. ‘We need to set up a task force and we need to do it now. Her life could be in danger. We need to find this man. If we find him, we find her. Make a start, O’Connor. I’ll join you in a minute.’
‘I’ll get onto it right now,’ O’Connor said as he left, closing the door behind him.
She sneezed once again. ‘I think I’m going to need more than coffee when we speak to Deborah Jenkins’ husband and mother about this,’ Gina said.
Jacob nodded and rubbed his eyes. ‘I love this job. You never know what’s coming next.’
‘You certainly don’t. We need to refresh ourselves with the old case notes.’
‘I’m going to drag up the history. I’ll check back with you in a while.’
‘Do that. I want every resource at our disposal used on Deborah Jenkins. I want her found. That case has haunted me for years.’
He nodded and left her office. Gina slumped in her chair and remembered the night she’d interviewed the husband in his home. Deborah’s mother had been with him. She’d been looking after their children that day while he and Deborah had been at work. Deborah had worked late to make up time. Both Deborah’s mother and husband were adamant that her disappearance was out of character. Their relationship was better than ever. They had two lovely children who he said had ‘completed them’. She’d never seen a man so broken.
Unless bringing the baby back was a symbolic gesture, Deborah was close by. How come there had never been a sighting or a medical appointment? Her details had been passed on to all the local GP surgeries at the time and nothing had ever come back. Gina made a note on her pad to consider that Deborah had changed her identity. Had she received medical care during her pregnancy? Looking at the notes on the clumsy delivery, she suspected that Deborah hadn’t been to see a doctor. They’d found the i
dentity of the mother, but finding out her whereabouts was going to be the difficult task.
The man on the phone. What did he have to do with it all and why did he want the baby identified? They were definitely looking at a possible abduction. Gina ran a scenario in her head: it’s a wet wintery night, at a time where most of the people working on the industrial estate have gone home. Deborah is walking alone in the dark, aiming to get to the bus stop. To get there she has to pass several units by walking on the pathways alongside the road. She is heading towards a tree-lined cut-through, where there are only a few street lamps to light the way. Just before she gets there she is approached. There is a struggle and she loses a shoe. He forces her into his vehicle and drives off. He’s had her all this time.
An email popped up on her screen from Briggs.
This is going to be big. I want to know everything as and when it happens. Find Deborah Jenkins.
Thirteen
The rising sun, still low in the sky, glinted off the draining board as Luke finished wiping it. He threw the cloth beside the sink and walked over to the photo of him, Debbie and the kids. He traced her face with his index finger before placing the photo in the top drawer. Cathy was right, he had to move on, and the photos were a constant reminder of what had happened. He would get a few of the best photos of Debbie framed for the kids’ bedrooms, but today was the start of the next chapter in his life. He grabbed his phone off the worktop and called Brooke, but she didn’t answer. He looked at his watch. The kids would be out with Cathy for a while. Maybe he’d take a walk over to Brooke’s and see if she wanted to go for a stroll over the fields. It was close enough that he could get home quickly if Cathy came back and called to see where he was.
He thought back to when they’d gone to the party, hand in hand, to pick their children up. There were no sneers, only people smiling kindly, as if they’d hoped for this outcome all along. And then there was the night before that, when they’d gone back to hers and had a movie night with the kids. If only Joe hadn’t interrupted them. The feel of Brooke’s soft skin lingered in his thoughts.