by Sarah Flint
‘Oops. Sorry. Have I come at a bad time?’ He manoeuvred a large cardboard box between him and the frame and pushed the door open fully, stepping confidently into the room. His physique was in harmony with his face; six feet two inches of slim, toned torso on top of long, muscular legs, all encased in ripped Levi jeans and a Superdry T-shirt. He looked as if he’d be more at home on Bondi Beach than in the staid environment of Lambeth police headquarters. ‘Maybe these will help?’
He pulled the lid up. Charlie immediately tore her eyes away from the delivery man to focus instead on the delivery; a dozen Krispy Kreme doughnuts, in an assortment of shapes, colours and decorations.
‘You’ve timed it well. Come in. I’m certain they will help.’ Hunter was clearly glad to have the subject changed, although Charlie noticed he couldn’t hide a hint of displeasure as his gaze swept over the man’s casual attire. ‘Team, this is our new member, DC Nick Arrowsmith. He’s come from Croydon CID and will be working with us from now on. Have a quick chat and bring him up to speed with what’s been happening. I believe it’s his birthday today.’
‘The big three zero,’ Nick grimaced. ‘Not the best day for a celebration and not the best day to be starting here, I have to say. I heard what happened this morning. Sickening! I presume the pressure will be on to work long hours?’ He placed the box down on the nearest desk and beckoned them all over. ‘Help yourselves.’
They didn’t need to be told twice. Naz and Paul clustered around him, introducing themselves and chatting animatedly. Charlie chose a doughnut to eat now and one to eat later and stood close to Bet and Sabira as they spoke further about the murder and the possible motives. Her eyes were stinging with fatigue but the conversation was enthralling. Could Brian Ashton have been killed and maimed for something he’d done in his private life? Was it totally random? Or did just being a police officer merit the dreadful injuries inflicted on him by the killer. To her mind it seemed far too planned and personal to just be the job, but they’d have to wait and see.
She noticed Hunter standing to one side watching them all. It was as if he was taking stock of the team and its new addition. He often stood quietly observing, before coming to a decision and she wished she could do the same. Too often she engaged mouth before mind. She heard him speaking eventually. The Scenes of Crime Officer and forensic examiners would be doing their bit first; until then nothing further would come from the scene. Bet, Paul, Naz, Nick and Sabira were to continue enquiries, find out everything they could about Brian Ashton, his loves, his hates, his work life; anyone that might bear a grudge. Charlie was to get some kip before starting afresh the following morning, as was he, but before he left, could he have a quick word with Nick in his office.
A wave of tiredness washed over her and she tried to stifle a yawn. As she pulled on her old trainers and running gear, Charlie wondered briefly what the word would be about. Hunter had not looked particularly enamoured with their new addition. Nick Arrowsmith had talked the talk, but would he walk the walk? If not, he would be out. Hunter didn’t suffer fools gladly… but only time would tell.
A few reporters were starting to gather outside the front of Lambeth HQ as she pushed through the revolving doors and squinted into the sun. She felt bad at the thought of her team continuing to work on the murder of a colleague while she slept in her bed, but for now there was nothing she could do. She started to jog wearily towards her flat in Clapham, feeling the fatigue take hold. In a few hours’ time she would be up again, driving to her family home in Lingfield for dinner with her mum and sisters, as she did nearly every Tuesday evening. Then tomorrow it would be Wednesday, and Wednesdays were always special. St Thomas’s Hospital came into view, its windows reflecting intense rays of sunlight across the shimmering water of the Thames. For once, even Charlie thought the river looked bright and alive.
Her thoughts returned to Tina Ashton, tipped into early labour by the trauma of their news, lying in pain in another hospital in London, without her husband and without hope… and with a tiny new life that was soon to be born.
She thought of her own mother. Her life had not been easy, but Meg had survived; they had all survived. Tina Ashton’s relatives would rally round; she and her children would be drawn into the wider family of the police; they would be supported and sustained. First though, they needed to find her husband’s murderer and Charlie for one would be doing everything in her power to do just that.
Chapter 5
Wednesday 21st June 2017
Charlie rose at the same time as the sun the next morning. It wasn’t yet 5 a.m. but she felt refreshed and raring to go, having crashed out at her mum’s house after an early dinner. The house was silent. Her half-sisters, Lucy and Beth, had joined them for the meal but with their exams now finished they’d gone out with friends afterwards, not returning until late. Charlie had been glad to catch up, but equally as glad to have some peace and quiet. She’d said little to Meg of the latest case, the conversation with the team weighing heavily on her mind. Meg had seen plenty enough to know the dangers of Charlie’s job, she didn’t need to be worried any further.
A bag of freshly laundered clothes was waiting by the front door as she tiptoed out. Her mother always made time to ensure Charlie had them, whether it meant staying up until the early hours or not. Meg would never fail her on a practical level, but it was a source of constant pain that she couldn’t share her innermost thoughts and fears with her daughter. There was a note pinned to the top item today. Charlie bent down and read it, catching a waft of her mother’s favourite fabric conditioner as she did so. It was the smell of her childhood, the scent of family togetherness, the smell of before.
The note, in her mother’s handwriting of beautifully formed lettering, as neatly controlled as her emotions, read: ‘Thinking of you’; short, succinct and to the point. She knew her mother would be thinking of her; she was probably lying in bed now listening to her leaving, knowing where she would be headed. Freshly washed clothes and thoughts of love were all well and good, but they would never beat the physical presence of her mother by her side on a Wednesday, sharing her grief on her weekly visit. Nothing would.
She picked up the bag, sighing heavily. One day maybe.
Charlie’s destination was the churchyard where her little brother Jamie was buried. Every single week she walked the same path to his grave. Every single week she stood alone. Every single week her mind ran over and over the events of that first Wednesday when Jamie had drowned, at the age of ten, in a dilapidated boat whilst out in a storm. They should never have been out on the sea, but any chance of receiving justice had died along with the captain that day. Charlie had lived, remaining determined to fight for any other person treated unfairly. Her guilt at survival had also remained and it was this that motivated her to return every week.
The graveyard was close to the family house in Lingfield and was half the reason for her overnight stay with her family each week. After a recent case had ended with Charlie being abducted, brought to the site and threatened by the killer she was tracking, the place had taken on a more sinister feel, a slight sense of evil pervading the location, but this was gradually decreasing and Charlie was finding solace in her memories of Jamie again.
She didn’t stay long. She didn’t need to. Sometimes it was enough just to come.
She was driving back up to London now, her planned rest day having been cancelled. There was no time to waste. Her first port of call, even before starting work was to Anna Christophe, Ben’s new counsellor. Ben Jacobs was her best friend and Charlie accompanied him each week to see Anna, in his bid to beat the debilitating Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder that had resulted from his previous military career. She’d first met him begging for money in the nearby park a couple of years earlier but it was not until he was robbed at knifepoint by a group of thugs that their friendship was cemented.
Until recently he’d pushed for more than friendship, but she’d been too scared to commit. Now it was probably too la
te. All his early progress had been negated by what he’d witnessed at the graveyard with her, and he was well and truly back to square one, possibly worse.
Charlie loved the bones of the man… but it wasn’t his bones that were the problem. It was his brain. Physically he was strong. Mentally he was a mess, but she was determined not to give up on him, for as long as he was prepared to try. He just had to keep trying… she couldn’t do it for him.
*
Anna Christophe had kindly agreed to come in early to see Ben. Her office was on the first floor of a maisonette, overlooking the most westerly part of Tooting Bec Common and was within sight of the previous day’s crime scene, therefore it hadn’t been difficult for her to guess which case had caused the cancellation of Charlie’s rest day. Gossip was rife in the local shops and news of what had occurred had already elicited strong reactions from the community. No one could quite believe that it had happened on their doorstep. Anna had offered the early appointment without even being asked to do so. She just knew what had to be done and did it without question.
The table lamp was on in the office when Charlie arrived and as she parked she saw the silhouette of Anna against the light, pushing the window open as far as was possible. Summer helped psychologists, so Anna had explained at their last meeting. It brought with it warmth, hope and new life and was a direct contrast to the dark depression of winter and the cold harsh realities people faced. It was no coincidence more suicides occurred in the winter months. Anna advocated allowing fresh air to circulate as often as possible for that very reason. The sounds of life outside the wood-panelled walls brought what was said within the stuffiness and introversion of the office into perspective. It was harder for the person on the couch to sink into a quagmire of pain with the laughter of children and bustle of everyday life going on outside.
As Charlie watched, Anna beckoned her up. She checked the clock on the dashboard. There was still another ten minutes until Ben was due. Dammit. She should have parked around the corner. Anna was lovely, but she had a disconcerting way of slipping a comment that demanded a meaningful answer into a previously harmless conversation, after which she’d remain silent, without any outward discomfiture, until Charlie capitulated to end the awkwardness. Charlie always found herself talking, even when she’d determined to stay silent. The guilt surrounding Jamie’s death and her ongoing inability to mend her relationship with her mother were both subjects that were firmly off limits. Although Anna had managed to worm a few details out of her, the majority of her life had stayed safely compartmentalised, and needed to remain so for her own mental stability. She could wheedle any amount of information out of a suspect during an interview, but she could never cope with having the tables turned.
She waved back and headed slowly up the stairs, having the sudden sense of foreboding that she imagined a person sentenced to the gallows might have. She would need to keep the conversation focussed on Ben.
Anna answered the door before she’d even knocked, ushering her through to her office.
‘Glad you were still able to come. How are you, Charlie?’ The words were directed straight at her.
Charlie found herself mesmerised immediately by Anna Christophe’s unblinking gaze. The psychologist had opaque brown eyes that were difficult to disengage from, once fixed. She was a small woman, barely five feet two inches tall, with narrow shoulders, a wasp-like waist and slim hips, but what she lacked in stature, she made up for in intensity. The concentration in Anna’s eyes held Charlie enthralled and the temptation to tell the woman everything was almost overwhelming… but she needed to get to work. Work took her away from her problems. It also took her away from having to watch Ben crucify himself day after day, knowing that, in part, his regression had been because of her. If only he had not witnessed the climax to her last case. If only the sights and sounds of that night had not triggered a recurrence of his nightmares. Things had just started to become clearer before then, but now everything was messed up. Ben needed her but couldn’t bear to be with her. She had started to overcome her previous reservations and reached out, only to be pushed away.
‘I’m fine,’ she said eventually. ‘Ben’s not really improving as yet though, is he?’ Charlie tried to throw the question back to the psychologist, but it didn’t work. She was an open book and Anna had the pages in her hands.
‘He’ll get there in time… because he wants to.’
Charlie picked up the inference immediately. ‘It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s more complicated, Anna. I do want to, but you’re right in one way. I haven’t got time.’
She glanced down at her watch, feeling irritated at the implied criticism. She wasn’t here for herself and she was suddenly annoyed at being put on the defensive. She knew Anna only wanted to help, but she also understood that she needed to want it and, for now, she didn’t. It was safer to stay as she was. Unleashing her fears was not an option.
Ben should have arrived by now. He was late. She keyed his name into her phone and waited while the ringtone sounded, ringing and ringing until it switched to answerphone.
‘Sorry, Anna, but Ben’s not answering. I’d better go and check he’s OK. We’ll make another appointment as soon as we can.’
Charlie turned and headed down the stairs, glad to have been given the unexpected reprieve. She usually had a lot of time for Anna… but today she had none.
*
The curtains were closed when Charlie pulled up outside Ben’s flat in Brixton and she immediately knew what to expect. The knowledge was heightened when the door wasn’t answered. She pulled out the spare key he’d given her for just this eventuality and opened the door. It was the smell that hit her first, pungent and stale, much as she’d anticipated.
The flat was bathed in a dingy half-light, with dirty plates and crockery left to fester and empty beer cans littering the floor. She picked her way to the bay window and pulled the curtains open, lifting the sash window to dispel some of the staleness.
Ben was asleep on his favourite armchair, his legs and body twisted tightly into the foetal position. He stirred at the slight breeze, his eyes squinting into the brightness, before closing them again in dismissal of the day.
‘Where were you, Ben?’
The words were spoken calmly and quietly, so as not to surprise him. She’d witnessed before what could happen if he woke with a start.
He blinked again, this time narrowing his eyes as he peered towards the direction of her voice. Carefully he unfolded his legs, stretching them out as he did so.
‘What’s the time?’
‘Half seven. You were supposed to be at Anna’s half an hour ago. She opened up an hour early especially to see us.’
‘I’m sorry, Charlie. I had a bad night.’
His voice crackled with emotion and she suddenly felt bad for having scolded him. He looked so helpless. Gone was the confidence that had been growing so steadily, replaced instead by the haunted, hollow stare of the ex-soldier; the stubble, the dishevelment, the stale smell of beer on his breath. She bent towards him, her hands placed gently on his knees, and kissed him lightly on top of his head, sighing inwardly as she felt him stiffen at her touch.
‘So I see.’ She said the words this time with no hint of criticism. ‘Right, let’s get you sorted.’
Standing up, she accidentally nudged an empty beer can with her foot, sending it scudding noisily across the wooden floor, before bending to scoop it into a rubbish sack.
Within half an hour, the flat was back to normal; the furniture set straight, empty bottles and cans cleared and a line of clean cutlery and crockery drying on the side of the sink.
Ben sat with a pint of water, his expression more animated.
‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I’m late already and Hunter will be on my case.’
‘He’s a good bloke and a good boss.’
‘I’ll tell him you said that. He was asking after you the other day, by the way. Your name might be the only thing that’ll
get me out of a bollocking for being late.’ She smiled towards him, knowing that actually Hunter held Ben in high regard and would indeed let her off if she told him where she’d been. He was as concerned for Ben as she was.
Ben nodded, looking suddenly forlorn.
‘What would I do without you?’ he said, as she left.
She smiled sadly at the words. Things had changed so much. It hadn’t been that long ago that she had said exactly the same words to him.
Chapter 6
Hunter said nothing when Charlie walked into the office at 08.30, but she could see he wasn’t pleased. The rest of the team, with the exception of Nick, who was conspicuous by his absence, were seated around him, propped up on desks in a semicircle.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ she tried to placate him without saying where she’d been. With everybody there she really didn’t feel like answering the questions that would no doubt follow her mentioning Ben’s name. She would take it on the chin now and explain later.
‘Right, we were just beginning to talk through the events of yesterday, but before we start, Tina Ashton had a baby girl in the early hours of this morning. She’s called her Bryony, after Brian. Mother and baby are doing well. Hopefully Naz and Sabira will be heading off to the hospital shortly to have a chat.
‘Paul and Bet went through some of Brian Ashton’s recent arrests and court cases yesterday afternoon. There are a few names that have cropped up that are worth a look at, several where they made threats against him. One is in prison now, but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have got something arranged from inside. We all know how easy it is for inmates to get phones in and keep their drugs lines running.’
‘It’s a dirty job,’ Paul chirped up. ‘Last year I was in custody when Bill Morley was searching a prisoner. He saw some cable sticking out of this guy’s arse and made him pull it out. Turns out as well as the cable and mobile phone, the guy also had the charger up there too, complete with the three-pinned plug.’