by Carla Kovach
‘Where’s Debbie? Where’s my wife, you prick?’ he yelled as he took another step forward.
‘I’ll take her now if you come one step further,’ the man shouted. Luke stepped back and exhaled as the man moved the knife away.
‘Why have you done this to us? Where’s my wife?’ he said, his voice cracking with emotion. He’d become attached to little Isobel over the past few days. He stared at her innocent face. All he wanted to do was walk over to her, take her away from him and protect her.
The man headed towards the door, smiling his revolting smile. ‘I loved her more than anything, more than you did. I treated her like she was a princess, but she was an ungrateful bitch.’
‘Loved,’ Luke said. ‘What have you done to her?’ He stood helplessly in front of the kitchen door, his gaze on the knife.
‘Luke?’ Brooke reached for his arm and began to sob.
The man began pacing by the door. ‘I’ve done nothing but the right thing. I loved her and you didn’t. She knew about your other woman. Your whore. I once knew a whore, you know. She was the first girl. She got what was coming to her.’ Jeff stared at Brooke and grinned. ‘Debbie knew everything before she died, I made sure of it. I’m the only person to have ever loved her wholly and truly.’
Luke ran his shaking hands through his hair and wiped a tear from his eyes. He placed his hand on the worktop to try and regain his balance. Deborah was gone. His wife’s killer was standing in front of him, threatening the life of his wife’s baby. He had to do something, but what? The man was pointing the knife towards Isobel’s heart, muttering to himself as he stared out of the window.
‘The time has come. Try to stop me and little Florence will die here without her mother. Let me go and they will be together forever. Get back.’ Luke took a small step back into the doorway. ‘Out of the room!’ the man shouted. ‘Now. Both of you.’ Luke took another step back into the hallway and Brooke ran behind him.
Luke knew he’d have to leave by the garden gate. Maybe he could stop him out the front. He heard the kitchen door open, then he heard the sound of sirens fast approaching. The back door slammed shut. Luke peered into the kitchen. The man was still there. Isobel began to scream as he paced up and down, holding the knife to her little chest. The phone in the living room rang.
‘Answer it,’ the man yelled, sweat dripping down his face.
He dashed to the phone and held it to his ear. As he waited for someone to speak, he watched as several police cars pulled up and a police van arrived. An ambulance followed. ‘Listen to me, Luke. Is he there?’
Luke nodded at Detective Harte, who was standing in his front garden with her mobile to her ear. Isobel’s screams filled the house.
‘Tell them to leave or I will kill her, I swear,’ the man said from the kitchen. ‘Shut up!’ he yelled at the baby.
‘He said you need to leave. He has a knife held against Isobel’s chest and Devina is lying unconscious on the kitchen floor. He will kill Isobel if you don’t all leave.’
Gina placed her hand on her forehead as she paced in the garden. ‘Can you put him on the phone?’
‘The detective wants to speak to you. Can I bring the phone to you, in the kitchen?’ Luke called.
‘Tell them to leave, now!’
Luke shook his head at Gina. ‘He won’t talk. He said leave now. I’m scared he’ll hurt her. Please leave.’
Gina held up her arm to the others and Luke watched and listened as she instructed them to leave. One by one, the cars left until the road was clear. ‘They’ve moved to the next road. I’m going to end the call. Tell him we’ve all gone.’ He watched Gina’s trembling hands as she ended the call and headed to the side gate.
‘They’ve gone,’ he called as he went back to the kitchen and waited by the door, with Brooke sobbing behind him. Devina had stirred and was trying to sit up.
‘I didn’t want it to be like this. I know they’re close by. We were all meant to go together, but it looks like Florence and I will be going here.’ He placed the screaming baby back in the basket. As he lifted the knife above her, he closed his eyes. ‘Goodbye, Florence. Daddy will be joining you soon.’
Brooke screamed as she covered her eyes.
Luke dashed across the room and jumped against the man, catching his hand on the blade. The baby basket tipped over, flinging Isobel under the kitchen table. ‘You bastard. This is for my wife,’ he yelled as he brought his fist onto Wall’s nose over and over again.
As he brought another punch down, he felt his arms being restrained. ‘Get all units here now,’ Gina yelled into her phone. Within seconds the place was stormed by several officers. A young paramedic walked over and attended to Devina, who was crying and holding her head. Baby Isobel was lifted off the floor by an officer and Wall was restrained and read his rights by DS Driscoll. Luke lay on the floor, bleeding and exhausted. He cried for the wife he knew to be dead as her killer was dragged from the scene.
‘I loved her,’ the man shouted as they dragged him out of the door and along the slabs, his nose showering blood all over the garden.
Devina was being helped out the door. ‘The baby, Isobel. Is she okay?’
‘We’re just going to check her over now,’ said the paramedic, as she took the wailing baby from the officer. ‘She looks very lively and responsive though. Let’s get you checked over. That looks like a nasty bang to the head.’
‘You saved the little one,’ Gina said, as she slid down the wall and sat next to Luke on the kitchen floor.
‘My Debbie’s dead. He told me. He killed Debbie.’ Luke was sobbing so hard he couldn’t breathe, his injured hand wrapped in a blood-soaked dishtowel.
‘No, Luke – we’ve found her. She’s been taken to Cleevesford Hospital. She’s alive and she wants to see you,’ Gina replied.
Luke dragged himself to a sitting position, and his tears turned to sobbing laughs. He saw a tear slide down the detective’s cheek. He grabbed her and hugged her with his good arm. ‘Thank you,’ he said as he sobbed into her hair.
Brooke walked over and kneeled in front of him. DI Harte looked away. Luke opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.
‘You don’t have to say anything. I know.’ Tears filled her eyes and she began to sob.
‘I really am sorry.’
She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. She now understood it was the end.
* * *
‘You alright, guv?’ Jacob asked as he came back into the kitchen.
‘No one is seriously hurt, thanks to Mr Jenkins,’ she replied. Officers and detectives bustled around the scene, but Gina remained on the floor. The case was solved and Wall was going down. She picked up her phone and called Briggs. ‘We have Wall and Deborah is safe.’
‘Yes!’ he shouted. She knew he’d be punching the air.
A paramedic helped Luke to stand and led him out of the back door towards the ambulance. Jacob offered Gina a hand up. She needed to be there when Luke saw Deborah. ‘Come on, we’ll take my car to the hospital,’ he said.
‘What a day,’ she replied as she followed him out. And it was going to be an even longer day, with interviews and evidence – and she wanted to be the one to interrogate Wall. They’d finally solved the case of missing woman Deborah Jenkins. She was now free of Wall. There was no doubt that she and her family would need ongoing support, and Gina had no idea what the future held for them, but that evening, she was going to celebrate with the team. Pizzas delivered to the station were on her.
Epilogue
Saturday, 9 December 2017
Gina shivered as she trudged through the muddy graveyard. A gust caught her umbrella, turning it inside out. Within seconds, her hair was damp. She turned the opposite way, trying to get the wind to catch the umbrella and fix it. Just before she could declare herself officially drenched, the umbrella turned in again, protecting her face and body from the storm.
She glanced at her watch. In half an hour, the rest of Terry’s fa
mily would arrive for the service. She passed the little graves and noticed a headstone for a baby. Her mind wandered back to little Isobel and Deborah. How Deborah managed to give birth to a healthy but small baby was beyond her comprehension, given the conditions she had been living in.
The previous day, Gina had gone back to the hospital and seen the reunion between husband and wife, a moment that had confirmed that all the sacrifices she’d made for her career were right. Days like yesterday made it all worth it – the danger, the calls in the middle of the night, the ruined baths, all of it. The sight of Luke running over to his wife and hugging her, both of them sobbing and holding each other, would stay with her forever.
Deborah had been lucky. Diagnosed with hypothermia, a serious infection and severe malnutrition, her road to recovery would be a long one, but with the help and strength of her family, Gina felt that she would be fine. The hospital was keeping her in until the infection was under control, but she was away from Wall. She was safe.
Jeff Wall had been taken to the station and charged. There was clear evidence of him mistreating and falsely imprisoning Deborah, and he’d be banged up for a long time. They’d listened to him wailing all night long from his cell, screaming that he loved her to the moon and the stars and everything in between. He’d continued by conversing with his dead mother and throwing his mattress around his cell. He’d been easy to crack and his interview had been one of the most satisfying of Gina’s career to date. Knowing he’d lost everything, he’d also confessed to killing Nicoleta Iliescu. His mother’s death, as per his confession, was apparently the fault of Deborah, who wouldn’t shut up. He’d also worked alone. No evidence had pointed to Nelson or Avery colluding with him.
As for Briggs, he’d been pleased that the case was closed. He’d smiled for a second when she’d told him of Deborah and Luke’s reunion. They’d enjoyed pizza at the station while getting through the mountain of work.
She continued walking until she reached Terry’s plot in the graveyard. ‘Terry Smithson, loving husband to Gina and father to Hannah, taken tragically but never forgotten and always in our hearts.’
She swallowed. Taken tragically, that much was true. But was it a tragic accident or self-defence or maybe even manslaughter? Her shoes became sodden as she stood in the muddy puddle beside the grave and closed her teary eyes. Her hand had touched his arm just before he fell down the stairs. She may have pushed him. She was certain she nudged him. She delayed calling an ambulance. Paramedics may have been able to save him.
She closed her umbrella, allowing the rain to mix with her tears. The last thing she wanted was for people to see her crying. They’d assume her tears were for Terry, when they were for herself this time, for the years he’d taken that could never be replaced, for the piece of her that she would never find again and for the years of guilt and angst.
She flinched as she felt a rough hand rubbing her neck. ‘The widow sobs. I see you’re still being a bitch, but it’s good you decided to actually come to your deceased husband’s memorial service.’ It was Steven, Terry’s brother. He reached over and stroked her hair.
‘Get your hands off me,’ she said as she turned and pushed him away.
‘Assaulting a civilian.’ He swayed back and forth, rain dripping down his pathetic face as he almost slipped in the mud beneath his boots. ‘What ever became of meek little Gina? Yes, Terry. No, Terry,’ he mimicked. ‘After he died, you took Hannah from us. You took her away.’ He moved forward and went to touch her face.
She blocked his hand, almost knocking him off balance. ‘You smell of weed. Just leave me alone.’
‘You smell of weed.’ His nose was nearly touching hers. Steven reminded her so much of Terry. Her heartbeat quickened. No one had yet arrived, and if they had, they’d probably head straight into the church with the weather being so bad. ‘What’s the big bad copper going to do about it?’
‘Get away from me or I’ll have you arrested for assault,’ she said.
‘Go ahead.’ He smirked as he went to stroke her hair.
She stepped forward and pushed him into the mud. ‘That was way more satisfying than getting you arrested,’ she said, laughing at the pathetic man lying in the mud. She looked up as she saw Hannah walking down the path.
‘Terry was right about you being a bitch,’ he replied.
‘Uncle Steven,’ Hannah called as she ran over to help him up.
‘Thanks, Hannah,’ he said as he grunted and walked back towards the church.
‘What happened?’ Hannah asked.
Gina laughed as she watched the mud-sodden man stagger towards the arriving party. ‘Your uncle has had one too many and stinks of weed. He just lost his balance and fell, that’s all.’ Yet another lie to go with all the others she carried around.
‘Thanks for coming. It means a lot to me, Mum.’
‘Come here,’ Gina grabbed her daughter and embraced her, taking in the delicate smell of her perfume and the feel of her soft hair. ‘I’m here for you, remember that.’
Hannah pulled away after a moment. ‘I saw the news before we came out. I’m proud of you, Mum. And I’m sorry. Shall we head into the church? It’s starting in about five minutes, we don’t want to be late. Besides, I’ve left Gracie with Nanny Hetty. You know what she’s like. She’s probably already fed her full of sweets.’
‘I’ll catch you up.’
‘Okay. Five minutes.’ Her daughter jogged towards the church, where she was greeted by Terry’s family.
Gina’s phone beeped. She opened the message. It was a photo of O’Connor covered in mud with a red nose and cheeks. He was holding a piece of paper with ‘I came 167th’ written on it. So much for romping the race. Gina smiled.
She noticed another text that must have arrived just before O’Connor’s. It was Briggs – Chris.
Shall we have a real celebration tonight? You, me, a real date.
She smiled as she headed up the muddy path and entered the church. She took a seat near the back, turned off her phone and waited for the memorial service to start.
As the church went silent, Gracie wriggled in her mother’s arms. ‘Nana,’ she shouted. Everyone turned around and looked at Gina. Great, she was now the centre of attention. The toddler began laughing and cooing.
‘Shall I take her?’ Gina mouthed as Hannah turned towards her. Her daughter smiled and nodded. Gina walked briskly down the aisle and took the little girl from her mother, bouncing her up and down on her hip at the bottom of the church.
‘Nana,’ she cooed as she played with Gina’s soaking wet hair and giggled. She kissed the happy toddler on the head. A loud crash filled the church. Steven had fallen off his pew, dragging a stack of bibles with him. It was going to be one of those days.
A date with Briggs would be totally unprofessional. He’d been unprofessional to ask. Was she unprofessional enough to accept? She’d think about it.
* * *
The End
* * *
***
If you were gripped by The Next Girl, read the second book in the Gina Harte series, out in August 2018.
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Also by Carla Kovach
Meet Me at Marmaris Castle
Whispers Beneath the Pines
To Let
Flame
A Letter from Carla
Dear Reader,
I’d just like to say a massive thank you for taking the time to read my first book in the DI Gina Harte series. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Gina’s character has been close to my heart for such a long time now and it’s exciting to share her story, finally releasing her from the confines of my imagination and presenting her to the crime-reading community
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As a writer, this is the part where I bite my nails and hope for a good response. If you enjoyed The Next Girl, I’d be hugely grateful if you could take a moment to write a review, letting other readers know what you thought.
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Once again, many thanks for reading The Next Girl.
Carla Kovach
Acknowledgements
I’d like to start by sending thanks to my editor, Helen Jenner, at Bookouture. Your advice, your suggestions and your enthusiasm for The Next Girl has meant so much to me. Your input has been invaluable and has made the book what it is today. It has been a pleasure working with you.
Thank you, Bookouture team. You have been a delight to work with at every stage. Special thanks to Kim Nash, who works in publicity. You work so hard to send our books into the big wide world. Also, thank you to the other Bookouture authors. Your support during the process of publication and long after is much appreciated. Thank you for making me feel so welcome.
I’m very lucky to have a splendid group of beta-reading friends and I’d now like to offer them huge thanks. Thank you so much, Su Biela, Brooke Venables, Vanessa Morgan, Derek Coleman and Lynne Ward. You all give me so much encouragement and I’m very lucky to have you all in my life. Some of you are authors too and it’s a privilege to know you and to have read your work. May we continue to chat, meet up to talk writing or just meet up to eat cake. The future’s always bright when there’s cake involved and it’s even brighter when we talk about books.