The Next Girl: A gripping thriller with a heart-stopping twist

by Carla Kovach

  ‘I was going to. Why don’t you stay? I’ve got some ice cream. We could talk or put some cartoons on—’

  ‘Another time, when you’re not in such a weird mood,’ Hannah said.

  ‘Me in a mood? I have my reasons for not wanting to do the things you demand of me, you know.’

  Hannah stopped what she was doing and stood in silence, her stare boring into Gina’s eyes. ‘Tell me then.’

  Gina opened her mouth to speak but no words escaped. She sneezed and pulled a crumpled tissue from her pocket. She swallowed, aggravating her sandpapery throat.

  ‘In that case, goodnight. And by the way, thanks for not letting on that you had a cold. You’ve probably given it to us now. And your milk’s off. Wouldn’t be surprised if I’m sick tonight.’ Hannah grabbed her changing bag and left, slamming the door behind her. Gina fell onto the settee and hugged a cushion. Ebony jumped up onto her lap. She hugged the cat and cried into her fur. But even the cat soon tired of her and jumped back down, scurrying into the kitchen and out of the cat flap.

  She booted up her laptop and watched it whirring into action. An email pinged up. Jacob had uploaded the report. She read it, trying to absorb all the information, trying to put herself into Mrs McDonald’s mindset, trying to see it as she’d described.

  Why couldn’t she tell Hannah? It would make her behaviour so much clearer. Shame still hung over her head like a heavy sack, threatening to cut off her oxygen supply. DI Gina Harte had once been a nobody, had once allowed a man to treat her that way. All the yes, Terrys, no, Terrys, whatever you want Terrys. It’s okay that you’ve broken my ribs, Terry, because you love me. It was my fault. She looked away. If she began to cry, her nose would be even stuffier than it already was. As she felt her ribs again, she thought of Debbie, out there somewhere – where? She grabbed her little laptop mouse and threw it at the fireplace. She knew what she’d gone through was nothing compared to Deborah’s ordeal. She couldn’t fail Debbie again. She’d failed four years ago. No more. She leaned across the floor and picked the mouse back up and placed it next to her laptop.

  She walked through to the kitchen and grabbed the half bottle of red that was next to the sour milk in the fridge and began swigging from the bottle. Her phone beeped. Briggs had messaged.

  ‘Wine bar?’

  She needed to talk about anything, to anyone. Her stomach flipped as she called him back. He answered after a couple of rings. ‘Gina.’

  ‘I don’t want to be alone tonight,’ she replied, wiping her tear-stained face.

  ‘Shall I bring the wine to you then?’

  She could play his game too. She ended the call, knowing full well he’d turn up. What the hell was she doing? What were they doing? He was her DCI. She was lonely – no, she was slowly dying inside, being eaten up by the secrets that were invading her new life, secrets she’d tried to bury. She’d bury them tonight, at least, and worry about the consequences another day. She swigged the rest of the wine and stared at the window, waiting for Briggs to pull up, like some desperate schoolgirl hoping her date didn’t let her down. Needy little Gina. Terry had summed her up well.

  Twenty-Two

  Monday, 4 December 2017

  He closed his eyes and gave up fighting the overwhelming urge to sleep. If he had another nightmare then so be it. Luke took a deep breath and welcomed the images that came to him.

  As he drifted off into deeper slumber, Debbie was soon lying next to him in bed. He rubbed his eyes to get a clearer view then he stared at her in awe as she slept soundly. Her soft hair tangled in his fingers and her lily-scented moisturiser delighted his nostrils.

  In his dream, the light from the moon outlined the shape of her face. Isobel began to coo in the next room. Slowly he turned and rolled out of bed.

  He left the room and entered total darkness. Isobel’s cooing turned into screaming before hitting a piercing shriek. As he entered her room, he saw a beast. The huge shadow with red eyes bore deep into his mind. But it disappeared, gone in a flash. His heart pounded as he gazed at the crib. The crib was empty and hadn’t even been slept in. The bawling continued to sound through his head. ‘Isobel,’ he called.

  ‘Daddy,’ said Max in a distorted voice. Luke ran and ran, from one room to the next, searching. His heart beat like it was going to explode from his chest.

  ‘Debbie,’ he called. ‘Max.’

  ‘Daddy,’ the voice called back as it disappeared. Isobel shrieked louder. He ran faster. How had his house turned into a maze of dark concrete walls that all led to nowhere? Every turn he took led to another walled corridor. He ran until he reached his bedroom.

  ‘Luke?’ Debbie called. He ran and turned into his bedroom. The beast was upon her, suffocating her with his large body. Isobel was trying to feed from her breast, being crushed between the beast and his darling Debbie. The creature turned to him, fiery eyes glowing in the dark and rancid saliva dripping from its mouth, contaminating every part of Debbie. He watched as the beast enveloped his wife and they both disappeared, taking the suckling Isobel with them.

  * * *

  The latch on the back gate clicked back into place. Luke jolted up in bed, covered in sweat, his eyes wide open. His heartbeat was so erratic, he thought he might vomit. He turned on the lamp as he fought to get his breath back. Debbie wasn’t next to him, she never was. He listened in the dark as someone walked across his garden slabs before stopping outside the back door. The handle rattled.

  He leaped out of bed and ran to the window. He stared out and saw a dark figure trying to open the door. His heart continued to pound as he ran down the stairs and crept across the kitchen floor, trying to remain out of the intruder’s sight. The figure was now on the other side of the windowpane. Luke wanted to turn on the light but he knew his eyes would be slow to adjust. He had to see who this person was. Maybe it had something to do with Debbie.

  He remembered the man sitting on the wall the other day, watching him and Brooke from afar. Had that been a coincidence? Too many odd things were happening now. He slid open the kitchen drawer and snatched a bread knife. He’d never used a weapon before and had no idea what to do if it came to it, but he clenched it in front of his chest.

  The intruder gave up on the window and walked back to the kitchen door. Luke watched as the hooded figure stepped back and grabbed the plant pot that sat by the side of the door. As the man leaned back to smash the pot into the window, Luke pressed his face against it and held up the knife. The figure dropped the pot with a loud crash and darted out of the garden before Luke managed to get a proper look at him.

  Luke ran into the living room, knocking into the Christmas tree as he swerved towards the window. He watched as the intruder ran off into the darkness. He looked at the illuminated clock on the DVD player; it was just gone three in the morning.

  He ran up the stairs into Heidi’s bedroom. She lay there open-mouthed, sleeping soundly. Holding his chest and exhaling, he crept into Max’s room and watched as Max stirred then went back to sleep.

  He darted back into his bedroom. A few minutes before the intruder had disturbed him, he’d believed that Debbie was next to him. He’d touched her, smelled her, felt his heart burst with love as he’d stroked her hair. But he’d gone to bed alone and he had woken up alone, as he had done for years now. The dream had felt so real. He felt his eyes begin to tear up. He rolled over onto Debbie’s side of the bed and hugged her pillow. ‘I miss you, Debbie,’ he whispered as he let his tears fall, slamming his fist into the pillow.

  ‘Daddy?’ Max walked into Luke’s bedroom with one eye open, clutching a small blanket.

  ‘Hello, little man. What are you doing up?’ Luke wiped his tears away and forced a smile.

  ‘I heard a funny noise. Were you running around the house?’

  ‘Yes. It was nothing. I just had a bad dream.’ Luke knew he had to call the police about the attempted break-in. ‘Do you want to get into my bed for a bit?’ He lifted his son’s tired body onto the bed and pl
aced him gently under the covers. He leaned across him and turned off the lamp before kissing him on the head.

  ‘Love you, Daddy,’ Max whispered. ‘Where’s Mummy’s picture?’

  Luke pulled open his bedside drawer and placed the photo back on the table. ‘I just moved it when I was cleaning,’ he said as he stared at Debbie’s photo.

  He’d tried so hard to find her, back then. All the searching and all the following of her friends and colleagues had yielded him with zero information. It had however yielded him with many a hangover. As the seasons had passed following her disappearance, the reward posters he’d left on all the local lampposts had become weathered, eventually falling off and flying away in the wind, along with her memory. Life went on. The news channels and papers stopped reporting about her and the children eventually found a new normality.

  The world was moving on, but how could he ever do the same?

  ‘Do you think Mummy’s ever coming home?’

  A tear fell down Luke’s face. ‘Of course she is.’

  ‘I’m going to dream of Mummy. I like dreams of Mummy,’ his son said as he snuggled into the quilt and closed his eyes.

  Luke slid out of Debbie’s side of the bed and crept downstairs. As he passed the lounge, he noticed that several Christmas baubles and a Christmas snowflake chain that the children had made out of coloured paper lay on the floor. He bent down, picked them up and hung them back on the tree. He went into the kitchen. The DI’s card was on the side, exactly where he’d left it. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair and called the number.

  Twenty-Three

  Briggs stirred as Gina grabbed a jumper and a pair of black trousers from her wardrobe. ‘What time is it?’

  ‘Early. Duty calls. Attempted break-in at the Jenkins’ household.’ She grabbed his crumpled shirt off the floor and threw it towards his face.

  He opened one eye and reached for his phone. ‘Three-thirty?’ He turned around and hugged the bent-up corner of his pillow. Ebony jumped on the bed and began pressing her paws into his back. ‘Okay, I’m getting up,’ he said as he gently shoved the cat off the bed.

  As Gina zipped up her trousers, he reached over and started putting his shirt on. She almost heaved from the taste of sour wine that hung at the back of her throat. She dashed to the bathroom, splashed some water on her face and quickly brushed her teeth. Briggs followed, doing his trousers up as he stood beside her in the bathroom. ‘Can I use your toothbrush?’ he asked.

  ‘No way. Use your finger.’ He shook his head and swapped places with her and began washing. Sprinting down the stairs with Briggs close behind, she grabbed her car keys and coat before dashing out of the door. ‘I’ll see you back at the station as soon as I’ve checked out what’s happening.’

  Briggs leaned in to kiss her as he passed, heading for his own car, but she turned to avoid him. ‘I’m sorry. This doesn’t feel right.’ Getting close to him was the last thing on her mind. Terry had been enough to put her off relationships for life, and then there was the question of how their fling would affect their working relationship.

  ‘Have I upset you?’ He stood beside his car, flattening his messy hair.

  He hadn’t done anything wrong. They’d had a good night. She’d had another glass of wine; he’d had a couple. He’d set her desire alight but she definitely wasn’t in the market for a relationship, particularly not with her superior. Sex was one thing, but she’d let him sleep over. She should’ve asked him to leave afterwards. She looked back at him, wondering how to respond. There was something about him that definitely turned her on.

  ‘Georgina?’ He was awaiting her answer.

  ‘Stop calling me Georgina,’ she said, allowing a smile to escape. ‘We have work to do… Chris.’

  ‘You know, I can’t work you out.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She stood, holding her keys, awaiting his answer.

  He smiled back, got in his car and drove off. Now she’d have to go all night and possibly all day wondering what he’d meant. What was so complicated to work out? He was a DCI, her DCI, and she worked directly under him. She could hear the gossip in her mind, going around the station. She started up her engine and turned the headlamps on. It was going to be another long day.

  Twenty-Four

  Although the report was of a break-in, with all the strange occurrences happening with Luke Jenkins and his missing wife, she felt she had to be at the scene to interview him, to be first in finding out if there could be a connection between tonight’s incident and Deborah being missing. As she drove through the damp night, she thought about Briggs and their fling. One positive was that he’d never resent her job if anything more came of the relationship. It was doubtful that Hannah would ever come around and understand what it meant to her. Maybe her daughter resented the fact that Gina needed more than family. Maybe they had become so distant due to Gina’s lack of disclosure about past traumas. Or maybe Hannah’s opinion of her was correct. Maybe she was a selfish cow who was always late and puts her family second. Maybes, lots of maybes.

  She pulled up outside the Jenkins residence and spotted PC Smith’s car. The living room light was on. Luke opened the door wearing his dressing gown, T-shirt and pyjama bottoms.

  Heidi stood at the top of the stairs in a Disney princess nightie. ‘Dad, what’s happening?’

  ‘Go back to bed, sweetie, or you’ll wake Max. I’ll come up in a minute.’ Luke smiled warmly at his daughter.

  The girl rubbed her eyes. ‘Can I sleep in your bed?’

  ‘Yes, sweetie. Max is already there so please don’t disturb him. And turn the landing light off.’ The light went off as Heidi left. ‘Kids,’ Luke said as he massaged his temples. Gina followed Luke through to the kitchen, where Smith was taking a few notes. ‘This is where he tried to get in.’ A knife lay on the worktop. ‘I was scared so I grabbed it. I didn’t know what else to do. Can I get you a coffee?’

  ‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ Gina replied. She’d not had a drink since the night before and a coffee would certainly perk her up. Although she’d brushed her teeth, the distant taste of wine still assaulted the back of her throat, making her nauseous. She coughed into her hand. Luke turned away and began filling the kettle.

  ‘So, what have we got?’ she asked Smith.

  ‘Nice to see you, ma’am.’ He paused. ‘Do you think this has something to do with Deborah Jenkins?’ he whispered as Luke’s back was turned. The kettle boiled away.

  ‘I don’t know, but we certainly can’t rule it out.’

  Luke poured the coffee and handed it to her. ‘Are you okay while I check on the kids?’

  Gina nodded as he left the room. She listened as he walked up the stairs. ‘Have you called forensics? I want the gate checked, the garden, the handles – every part of it.’

  ‘They’re on their way. I’ve managed to take an account of what happened.’

  ‘Can you give me an overview?’

  Smith flicked back a couple of pages in his pocketbook and began squinting at his writing. ‘My mum says I should’ve been a doctor,’ he said. Gina had heard that one before. ‘Right, at approximately 3 a.m. he was awoken by the sound of the latch being slid on his gate. It is apparently a little stiff and screeches as it’s slid across.’ Smith slid an imaginary lock before continuing. ‘It was at this point he looked out of the window and came downstairs. He said he left the light off so that he’d be able to see what was happening in the garden.’

  ‘Sensible,’ Gina replied.

  Smith turned the page in his notebook. ‘It was then he saw someone trying to open the kitchen window before heading to the back door. He was standing there.’ He pointed to the kitchen door. ‘He saw a person he described as male, wearing dark attire which included a hooded top. He couldn’t make out hair or eye colour. He said he thought the man seemed slightly taller than himself so I’m guessing five ten, eleven maybe. There’s also a small step down into the garden, so we have to take that in
to account also. It was at this point Luke grabbed a knife out of the top drawer. Oh, and the man was wearing gloves.’

  Smith walked over to the door. ‘The perp approached the back door and tried to get in. After failing, as the door was locked, Mr Jenkins stated that the man then grabbed the plant pot that was positioned to the left of the door and was about to hurl it through the window. Mr Jenkins then came into view and held the knife up and stood close to the window. The perp scarpered out of the back gate. Mr Jenkins ran to the lounge and noticed him running across the road and down the street, towards the entrance to the close.’

  ‘That’s great. Thanks. I’ll have a quick word with him in a minute. When you have the report typed up, can you email me straight away?’

  ‘Will do, ma’am,’ he said, scribbling in his notepad.

  Gina coughed again and her nose began to run. She grabbed a piece of kitchen roll from the side and caught her sneeze.

  ‘You still sporting that cold, ma’am?’

  ‘Certainly am. I think it’s easing a little though now.’

  Then came the sound of Luke walking back down the stairs. He entered and poured a coffee. ‘Can I get either of you anymore?’ They both shook their heads.

  ‘Can we just have a chat?’ said Gina. ‘I’ve just been updated by PC Smith, so I have the initial report. We’ve got a crime scene investigator on their way also.’

  ‘Yes. Please come through.’ Luke led her to the lounge. The Christmas tree looked a little off balance. ‘I nearly knocked the damn thing over when I was trying to catch sight of him running off.’