The Last First Time

by Andrea Bramhall

  Gina quickly kissed her cheek and disappeared down the stairs.

  Kate stripped and changed into the long T-shirt and leggings she wore to bed and was brushing her teeth when Gina reappeared.

  “She’s asleep already.”

  Kate rinsed her mouth and put the brush back in the cup. Drying her hands on a towel, she said, “That was a surprise.”

  “You can say that again.” Gina sat on the edge of Kate’s bed. “We’ve had a long talk.”

  “Over wine?”

  Gina nodded. “It made it a bit easier, I think. Both to say and to hear.”

  “And are you okay?” Kate sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her gently against her body.

  Gina snuggled into her side. “I think so. It’s a lot to process. Did you know that my mum had another child before me?”

  Kate shook her head. “You have a sibling?”

  “No. He died.”

  Kate winced and kissed the top of Gina’s head. “I’m so sorry.”

  Gina waved the comment away. Clearly she didn’t want to talk about that right now. “I sent a letter to George Boyne.”

  “Wow. That was quick.”

  “I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and I just had to do it. I feel better now that I’ve done what I can. It’s up to him now.”

  “It gave you some peace?”

  Gina nodded and lifted her head to look into Kate’s eyes. “It really did. I feel like I’ve given Pat what I can without becoming a creepy stalker.”

  Kate nodded. “Good. And while we’re on the subject of creepy stalkers, I got a call from Styall Prison today.”

  “Ally?”

  Kate shook her head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. They tossed her cell, and there’s no sign of any contraband like a phone or anything like that. They’ve been monitoring her calls since you received the flowers, and they checked back the records. It doesn’t look like she sent those roses.”

  “But—”

  “We knew it was a long shot. I mean, fifty yellow roses, isn’t really Ally’s style, is it?”

  Gina sighed. “I suppose not.”

  “She’s more your fifty cockles kind of girl.”

  Gina laughed. “True. But that doesn’t help us figure out who sent me fifty yellow roses.”

  “No, it doesn’t. Do you still have the card that came with them? Maybe I can get in touch with the florist and see if they have a record of who sent them.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s still at home. I’ll pick it up when I go to work tomorrow.”

  “Good. Has anything else arrived? I’d be thinking that if this person is serious, then something would turn up for Christmas.”

  “There wasn’t anything there when we went to pack.”

  “Okay. Listen, do you want me to pop round instead? I know you hate going home with everything, and I could swing by from time to time, you know, to see if something turns up?” Kate didn’t want to say explicitly that this was another reason she wanted Gina and Sammy to stay with her over the holidays. But it was. One of many reasons, but it was one that kept playing on Kate’s mind. Having them both here, safe, would give her some more time to figure out who this mystery flower sender was and if it was a serious threat or just a harmless admirer. Gina had had more than enough to deal with from Ally and her attack, and now King’s Lynn… She didn’t need anything else to top it off.

  “Thank you, that’s very sweet, but you don’t have to do that. You’ve got far too much on your plate with work already, and it’s out of your way. I’m practically there when I’m at work anyway.”

  Kate yawned. “Sorry,” she said.

  “Don’t be.” Gina snuggled in tighter, and Kate wished they could just pull the duvet over them both and let slumber take them.

  “You sure? I really don’t mind.”

  Gina shook her head against Kate’s shoulder. “No, honestly, I can handle it.” She turned her head and kissed Kate’s cheek. “Thank you. You make me feel very special.”

  Kate could feel her cheeks burning, and she hugged Gina tighter to her. She wanted to tell her she was special, very special, and turn to capture Gina’s sweet lips with her own. But she knew she was too tired to follow through on those thoughts, and the desire just to hold Gina was equally strong. Just to hold her and feel the day melt away. “Tree looks good, by the way. Definitely isn’t Grinchy in here anymore.”

  Gina laughed again. “No, it definitely isn’t. Sammy had to make sure that Father Christmas would know to leave her presents here instead of taking them to our house. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. It looks great.”

  “It looks like the leftovers from a bad year at Blackpool’s illuminations.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” Kate chuckled. “But if you insist.” That earned her an elbow to her ribs. “As much as I’m enjoying this, I’m falling asleep. I’ve got an early start in the morning.”

  Gina squeezed back. “I know. Sorry.” She lifted her face to Kate’s and pressed her lips gently to hers. Her fingers curled into Kate’s hair, tugging her closer until Kate’s lips parted and welcomed her tongue.

  Kate moaned around the caress and tightened her grip on Gina’s waist. Torn between pulling back and continuing, she couldn’t make up her mind until Gina’s fingers slid under the hem of her T-shirt. She gave herself over to Gina’s gentle exploration. She quickly found herself on her back with Gina’s pyjama-clad body on top of her as she slid her legs apart to accommodate her.

  She tried to stifle the yawn that broke their gentle kiss, but couldn’t.

  Gina chuckled as her jaw cracked loudly.

  “I’m sorry, Gina—”

  Gina touched her fingertip to Kate’s lips. “It’s okay. I just wanted to say goodnight properly.” She pushed her finger between Kate’s lips and drew in a sharp breath when Kate took it between her teeth.

  Moving quickly, Gina replaced her finger with her mouth and set about Kate’s, with a passion that made Kate’s head swim. Kate moaned, and finally Gina wrenched herself away, pushing up and off the bed as she did so.

  “You’re rather dangerous, Detective Sergeant Brannon.”

  “Me?” She pointed to her chest as Gina’s eyes roamed the length of her prone body. She knew the old threadbare T-shirt and figure-hugging leggings left little to the imagination.

  Gina nodded and took a deep breath. “Next time,” she said with a glint in her eye and a wink.

  Then she was gone, and Kate was left uncomfortably turned on and wondering exactly what would happen next time. And just how quickly it would come around.

  Chapter 14

  Kate had arrived early enough to get a coffee, a croissant, and a seat near the front of the room. She gobbled the sweet, chocolate-filled pastry and brushed crumbling flakes off her chest as Vinny Jackson walked in, Mel Brown at his side.

  Vinny grinned at her and held his fisted hand out to her.

  Kate stared at him, eyebrow hitched. “We’re not American, dude. We don’t fist-bump.”

  She smirked at him as he gave her a half shrug, picked up her empty hand, and bumped his fist to hers anyway.

  “We do when you rock.”

  Kate threw him a questioning look.

  “That interview last night. Ahmed.” He clapped her on the shoulder and dropped into the seat next to her.

  Mel sat on the other side of him, for which Kate was eternally grateful. After last night’s confrontation before the interview, she didn’t feel like being any closer to Mel than she had to be…and right now, even that was too close.

  “Classic. They’re going to be using that as a training case study before you know it.”

  “Piss off.”

  “I’m serious.” He leant in closer to her and lowered his voice. “Green was talking with that dude from gold command after she sent you home last night. The Chief Constable. What’s his name?”

  “Frank Carter.”

  “Yeah, that’s him.”
/>
  “He was here last night?”

  “Yeah, saw about half the interview in the video suite. Fuckin’ creamin’ his Y-fronts.”

  “Ew.” Kate smacked his shoulder and held her coffee cup away from her as the contents threated to spill onto her hand. “Shit. Don’t make me spill my coffee. I need this.”

  “Don’t abuse me, then,”

  “Then don’t go overboard with the brain farts, Vinny. I don’t need that image in my head at stupid-o-fucking-clock in the morning.” She sipped her drink. “I’ve already got enough in here to give me nightmares.”

  Vinny chuckled and glanced to the front of the room. “Yeah, I suppose that isn’t the prettiest of pictures.” He leant in closer as the room began to fill up, and someone tapped Mel to get her attention. “Seriously though…you okay?” He slid his eyes towards Mel. “I heard you had words.”

  Kate rolled her eyes. “She tell you that?”

  Vinny shook his head. “Nah, I heard, literally. I was bringing in some of those images for your photo bombs. Sorry.”

  Kate shook her head and shrugged. “Is what it is.”

  “If it means anything to you, I agree with everything you said. She needs to make a fresh start somewhere. She’s shit on her biscuit at Norwich. The PCs and sergeants don’t trust her, and the higher ranks don’t rate her. They know she’s trying to shag her way up.” He had the grace to grimace. “Sorry.”

  “It’s not a secret.”

  “No, but that doesn’t make it any better.”

  “No, but there are more important things to worry about right now.”

  “Fair point. Speaking of which,” he whispered and pointed to the office door as Clare, Timmons, and four other men stepped out of the room.

  “Ah, bollocks,” Kate muttered. “Bigwigs.” She looked around for Gareth, curious as to where her young shadow was. It was unusual for him to be late.

  Vinny crossed his arms over his chest and slouched down in his chair. Kate drained the last of her cup and managed to toss it in the wastepaper bin in the corner without getting out of her seat. She’d have been impressed with herself if she’d thrown it. But she didn’t. She passed it to the young guy on her left and got him to do it for her. Delegation—comes with the promotion.

  “All right, folks. Glad to see you all looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this fine December morning,” A groan stuttered around the room at Clare’s greeting. “Good news first, chaps and chapesses. The three people who were still on the critical list last night have been declared stable. The head of the ICU called a few minutes ago. They’ve still a long way to go, but the doctor says they’re out of imminent danger now.”

  A round of applause filled the room. The relief was palpable, and Kate hadn’t realised just how much the idea of further deaths had been playing on her mind.

  Clare held up her hands to settle them down. “I know, I know. It’s great news. On the other good news front, Len Wild over in the CSI office has informed us that all missing persons have now been accounted for, and the crime scene has been cleared of remains. No more nasty surprises, folks.”

  A quieter round of applause followed this announcement.

  “We’ve also arrested and, as of twenty minutes ago, charged Tariq Ahmed with conspiracy to commit a terrorist act and conspiracy to commit twenty-one counts of first degree murder. The CPS is working on what other charges they can throw at the bastard while they’re at it.”

  Kate hoped the Crown Prosecution Service managed to drum up a number of other charges, because those just weren’t enough. Not even close.

  “Now for the bad news. For those of you who haven’t met my esteemed colleagues, I’d like to introduce you to some of the folks that the powers that be in gold command think can help us with this major incident—”

  “You mean you’re not God on high, ma’am?” a voice from the back of the room shouted.

  “Only to you, soon-to-be-demoted PC Drake,” Clare shot back without hesitation, and snickers flittered amongst the crowd.

  “As I was saying, from MI5, we’ve got Lester Porter.”

  A tall fair-haired, clean-shaven, suited, middle-aged bloke stood up and inclined his head. Totally Mr Average. He would not have stood out in any crowd anywhere. Perfect spook. “Glad to be here.”

  Yeah, right.

  “Zain Mallam, also MI5.” Clare gestured to an Asian man who could have been anywhere from thirty to forty years of age.

  He had a full, neatly trimmed beard, slicked-back hair, and an arrogance to his posture that immediately put Kate on edge. But when he spoke, his voice was quiet, calm. “Happy to help.”

  Clare then pointed to a stocky guy in a black tactical uniform. “The head of CTU from the MET, Commander Jack Dalton.” Dalton touched his right hand to his forehead and tipped them a quick salute. “And Superintendent Marco Palmer, head of RCTU for the east of England.” He copied Dalton’s saluted greeting and leant back against the wall. “Mr Mallam, I’ll let you brief the troops on our Mr Ayeshydi.”

  “Ma’am,” Mallam said and stepped forward, nodding to the crowd. “Ishman Ayeshydi. Twenty-eight years old, and of Syrian descent. Born in Leicester, and by all accounts lived there almost all his life. Records indicate that Ayeshydi spent time in Libya at a training camp with the Libyan Islamic Fighting Group in 2011 and returned to the UK in 2014. We know that he had extensive weapons training while he was in Libya, but we also suspect that he spent time in other Arab countries, getting further training and cementing ties with other Islamic terror groups.”

  “Which ones?” Vinny asked.

  “I’m not at liberty to say.”

  Vinny scoffed and whispered under his breath, “That MI5 code for ‘we don’t fucking know’, right?”

  Kate sniggered.

  Mallam cleared his throat, took a sip of water from a bottle on the table behind him, and then carried on. “Passport control shows Ayeshydi leaving the UK last year, bound for Turkey. We all know that Turkey is the first stop to crossing into Syria to join with IS. We have intelligence that puts Ayeshydi in the video footage of two beheadings in Raqqa. He’s wearing a scarf over his face, but our informant has confirmed it’s him.”

  Porter passed pages out randomly around the room. Each officer looked from one image to the other before nodding and passing it down the line.

  “We suspect he received further weapons training, including explosives training, while he was out there. It only makes sense. What we don’t know is why three months ago he left Raqqa, crossing back into Turkey, and got on a flight home with his new wife Saba Ayeshydi in tow.”

  “Obviously, it was to bomb the shit out of us,” a guy’s voice called from the back of the room as the pictures reached Kate’s hands.

  The first was a picture taken off a driving licence. She could see the watermark across the face as she stared at the belligerent eyes glaring up at her. That look didn’t prepare her for the one in the next image. Covered so that only the eyes showed, the figure was waving a sword over his shoulder like he was ready to drop it down on the neck of the hooded figure knelt at his feet. It was pretty much unrecognizable. If Kate hadn’t been told they were the same man, she was certain she wouldn’t have picked them out as such. She almost thought the eyes of the man in the beheading photo looked more like Mallam than the guy in the DVLA picture. The same cast to the thick eyebrows, the same set to the belligerent stare, the same arrogance radiated off the page. Must be the angle, or something?

  “Among other things,” Mallam conceded.

  “What other things?” Kate asked as she passed the picture on to Vinny.

  “If his aim was to set off one bomb in a shopping area in the run-up to Christmas…why didn’t he strap the bomb to himself and claim the glory of his beliefs?”

  “Cos he’s a gutless bastard,” Vinny said.

  “Maybe,” Mallam again conceded.

  Bollocks.

  “Stop pussyfooting about, Mallam, and spit it out,” Clare inter
rupted. “We haven’t got all day, you know?”

  “Ma’am.” He took another drink of his water. “We have intelligence that Ayeshydi is the bomb maker.”

  “Yes, I think I can safely say that we’ve all surmised that, Mr Mallam. What else?” Clare demanded. “Corroboration to share with us?”

  “Nothing at this time.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Clare shouted.

  “Ma’am, I’m afraid the information is on a need-to-know basis.”

  “Are you saying I don’t have clearance to know what you’re talking about?” Clare’s face was red, and her eyes bulged.

  “No, ma’am. Not at this time. We will, of course, let you know should the situation change.”

  A collective gasp echoed around the room. To her right, Vinny whistled, and Kate rubbed her hand over her eyes. Fuck.

  So much for sharing fucking intelligence.

  The silence in the room stagnated as Clare and Timmons both glared at Mallam.

  Kate could feel the heat from those stares like it was burning her skin. If looks could kill, Mallam would be cinders.

  Vinny cleared his throat and asked, “Any idea where Ayeshydi might be?”

  Mallam shook his head, his gaze not breaking Clare’s.

  “Was he under surveillance?” Tom asked.

  “No.” He finally looked away from Clare and out at the sea of angry faces all glaring at him as hatefully as Clare and Timmons were.

  “Was he at least on the fucking watch list?” Jimmy demanded.

  “Yes. Along with about…a thousand more people. We simply don’t have the manpower to watch them all. We have to prioritise based on the intelligence we have available.”

  “Well, your intelligence failed this time, mate. And people died because of it.” Tom was angrier than Kate had ever seen him. “One of our own is still in hospital because of your intelligence failure.”

  Mallam nodded and had the good sense to look abashed. Whether he felt it or not. “We’ve had cutbacks just as much as you have. You know what it’s like out there.”

  A more understanding grumble circulated. They really did.

  “Known associates we can try to pin down?” Kate asked.