If I hadn’t been on the brink of death before I’d be surprised at what you think about. I’d thought previously that it would be a panicky feeling, a kind of desperation. But it isn’t. Not for me anyway. This could go either way, so obviously there’s hope. But there’s also a sense of the inevitable. And that train of through leads me to sorrow for the others. Steve, Lauren, everyone who’s worked so hard on this operation. There should be a training module that tells us not to blame ourselves when something bad happens to a colleague. But then I realise that maybe I want someone to feel guilty about the past and scratch that.
I feel sad for Maisie’s parents, who probably think they are in the most pain they could be now. But they aren’t. Even Kirby. And Jean and Graham, my adopted parents I now realise. They’ll all be left behind with the pain.
And sadness for my future self and all the things I could do. I’d felt it back then as I lay in my crushed car, and in the hospital afterwards as I was told that I might not recover from my head injury. How, after I was discharged, I realised that I wasn’t the same person. I was a toned down version of myself, with the old me somewhere inside, emerging only when summoned. A sense of waste for my future life that grew into a plan as I realised that I would recover. I feel it now. All the things left undone, things I couldn’t face. Kerry’s baby. I’ll never see them again. My beloved Manchester and its nemesis, the moors. Best of both worlds. But if this doesn’t go well I’ll never run free across the heather again.
I check the time on my phone. It’s quarter past twelve on a Tuesday morning. I smile slightly. At least we’ve wrapped up the operation in the recommended time. That’ll please Steve. I can hear a helicopter above me now, circling around and it wakes Maisie. I hold her very tightly as she wriggles and the car moves slightly. I look out of the door again. The front wheels are almost submerged and the water is lapping into the car on the steep incline, washing around my feet and the pedals. I learned enough in physics to know that the weight of the water will eventually drag the car farther into the reservoir. The slippery surface won’t help.
Survival mode takes over and I consider jumping into the water with Maisie, and mentally calculate whether I could get far enough away carrying a child in my wet clothes before the explosion. I’m still thinking about it, looking at the water when I see it dimple more and more. Large drops of rain splash into the dirty wetness and, I realise, into the turned-up back of the car.
I relax a little and look at Maisie. She’s sleepy and I cradle her now, breathing in the smell of her hair. She reaches up and touches my hair, winding it around her fingers. It’s almost inevitable now. There will be a risk assessment. With full emergency services here there will be no team heroics. I look out at my team behind the cordon. They’re completely still. Steve has his hands in his pockets and Lauren’s poker face has slipped and the horror of the situation is reflected in her expression.
There’s a tiny paper doll spinning on a cord in the windscreen. I watch it as the car slips a little farther, it’s spinning, spinning, an ever present reminder to Tina that she’s not alone. One mixed up young woman can cause all this misery. I’m angry at her and sorry for her at the same time. She’ll probably get the help she needs now, but I doubt that she’ll get Jennifer back. I don’t know what she and Glen will get. Conspiracy to cause and explosion, maybe. Or worse. It’s certainly not going to be an easy ride for them. Particularly if, or more probably when, what is now almost seeming like a given, as the car rolls forward, happens.
I feel tears prick my eyes. It’s the first time I’ve actually cried in three years. I’ve been close a few times but forced the feeling back down with my worst memories and blocked them out with loud rock music and work. It occurs to me that Tina and I are more alike than I’d like to admit. But before the first tear escapes I feel a jolt backwards and the car begins to back up. The water quickly drains from around my feet and an operations guy appears at the window, takes Maisie from me and begins to run. My legs are so cold that I can hardly walk so I throw myself onto the gravel beside the car and get up slowly. Then I run and run, past Steve and Lauren, past the waiting medics and up to the sailing club. Past the stone building and past the police cars and cars parked up at the side of Bank Lane.
I finally come to a halt at the stone wall at the top of the reservoir and sink to the ground behind it.
I try to control my breathing and take off my sopping shoes. I can’t believe I got out. I can’t believe Maisie is safe and will soon be back with Marc and Amy. I can’t believe that I got behind the wheel of a vehicle again. After I was discharged from the hospital I’d taken delivery of a shiny new car. I’d sat in the front and even managed to turn on the ignition, but my feet wouldn’t extend to the pedals. Physically they would reach, but as soon as I tried to depress them, even just a little, my body froze with fear.
I tried it many times but each time the same thing happened. I couldn’t drive. As usual I analysed myself and came to the conclusion that if this was the container that my fear was held in, so be it. A small price to pay. Never to drive again. But I did. I drove the car. I made it stop, anyway. In my addled, freezing brain I wonder if a chink of darkness opened and a little bit of fear escaped and, in future, I wouldn’t be as brave because of it. No. No more driving for me. I can’t see it happening again soon.
The echo of facing the car crash is still ricocheting around my consciousness. I’ve blocked it out for so long, avoided the pain. But I knew as soon as the Met became involved the tendrils of memories would creep back in until eventually I had no choice but to deal with it. And one day I’ll explore the full horror of it. One day, when all this is over and I’m settled I’ll dig deep and uncover it all. But for now I need to get back to work.
Steve and Lauren are hurrying towards me with a medic. Steve’s worried expression fades a little as he approaches me and sees I’m rubbing my feet back to life.
‘Alright, Jan?’
I nod and smile as much as my frozen face will allow.
‘Yeah. Just a bit cold. Did you get Tina?’
Lauren’s face is swollen and her lip split. Her smart black suit trousers are soaked and she’s covered in silt. Our eyes meet and she’s silently pleading with me not to mention her not being able to step up. But I understand. Not everyone is a lost soul like me, Lauren has connections, responsibilities. Steve laughs. It’s an unusual occurrence but he’s got good reason.
‘We did. Or Lauren did. There was a bit of a struggle. But you’re OK. Aren’t you Lauren? Quite the hero.’
She smiles weakly. I don’t say anything, because there’s no I in hero.
I’m just about to ask that Tina’s assessed, taken care of, because she’s ill, when there’s a loud bang and the ground shakes. I watch as the explosion nearly knocks them off their feet, the shock waves making them stumble. I don’t stand up because I can see the shock on Steve’s face. The car will have disappeared into a thousand pieces and I could have been in it. It’s moments like this, when we see the consequences and potential consequences of criminal activities, strengthens our resolve and reminds us of why we are doing this.
Lauren starts to cry. It’s a release I understand completely. I stand up and put my arms around her. Steve’s not a hugger, but he puts and awkward hand on her shoulder. The medic pulls a foil sheet around me and we stand for a while.
Chapter Twenty Six
I went to the hospital and had a check-up. They let me have a warm shower and then put me in a private side room with an armed guard outside. They kept me in overnight just to be on the safe side, which was a relief because despite this case being over I still can’t go home. So as soon as I’m discharged I go back to headquarters to get changed. Lauren’s taken a couple of days leave to be with her family and allow her wounds to heal.
As I hurry up to the SMIT suite there’s a buzz through the operations room. I walk along the glass corridor and look up and down Northampton Road. The black BMW is still there, in ex
actly the same place. I don’t know why I ever thought it wouldn’t be. I’m still on high alert after yesterday and I wonder if I’ll ever be able to relax. I’ve seen this before in this game. In my peers. So involved in their work that they forget to have any down time. In this line of work there’s always the worry that some disgruntled criminal will be released from prison and come to find you. In my case it’s more of a certainty than a worry.
I enter the SMIT suite just as the partitions are being taken down. The screen has gone and Keith’s comms station has been removed. I expect he’s asleep at home having been awake for three days solid. I look in the rubbish bag and see more than twenty cans of coke zero. All the paperwork has been transferred into a wheel-along plastic bin for storage until the court cases come up. Even the work stations have gone, unplugged and stored away until, next time. A couple of cleaners are wheeling in their trolleys and setting up vacuum cleaners.
Just as I’m about to find Steve, Petra turns up.
‘I saw you come in. I wanted to see how you are.’
She looks me over and I smile widely at her.
‘No harm done.’
‘Yes. So I heard. Good work, Jan. Thank goodness you got little Maisie back.’
We did get Maisie back. It hasn’t really sunk in yet.
‘Without your input it could have all been very different.’
She makes an explosion sound but she’s very serious.
‘So, last thing now Jan. You know the third sheet of paper, the one underneath the paper dolls? Well, we found a phone number on it. Probably not any use now, but you might need it for evidence.’
I’d completely forgotten that Petra was still working on this.
‘Oh. Right. Have you rung it?’
She laughs. I know she wouldn’t have. Petra avoids phones if she can.
‘No. I leave that sort of thing to you, Jan. I’m not a people person. That’s your area.’
She hands me the piece of paper and I see it’s a local number. Tina has scribbled dolls and shoes around it but it must be important to her as she’s left it legible and circled it several times. I get my phone out and dial. It rings then clicks onto an answering service. The woman on the line explains that this is a service for women who are suffering from post-natal depression. I look at Petra.
‘Post-natal depression support. So she tried to get help?’
‘Clearly not enough. It needs following up but rest now. Find somewhere safe and rest.’
She hugs me and walks away. Until the next time. The investigation is over and until we get the next Code Red we’ll be on standby and this place will be emptied. The police officers working on this case will return to normal duty and everyone else will return to their normal lives. Except me. Normal life would be going home and helping out with smaller cases when they came up. Helping to sort out the evidence from this case. Expert witness work. Catching up on current theories and going to see Cat. In between I’d do some gardening, eat some good food, see my friends and walk Kirby. Have lunch with Jean and Graham.
Steve’s in the corner reading some notes. I watch him for a moment, his awkwardness suspended when he’s alone. He starts slightly when I sidle up to him. We’re all a bit jumpy still.
‘Jan. How are you? Shouldn’t you be resting?’
I laugh a little too loudly to confirm the remaining nerves.
‘Yeah. I’m going to find somewhere to stay. Petra offered but you know.’
He knows. He knows that I don’t want to put her in danger. That’s why he doesn’t offer to put me up. He’s got a wife and kids and it wouldn’t be right. Instead he gets me up to speed on the case.
‘So now we know the outcome Glen Wright’s been charged with conspiracy to cause an explosion in a public place. He won’t get bail. I spoke to Sally. Tina’s been charged with the same thing but I’ve arranged for her to receive care worker who will arrange everything she needs.’
’Thanks Steve. And Jennifer?’
‘Tina’s mother has her. She’s applied for temporary custody of her until we find out what’ll happen to Tina. I know what you think Jan, but she still committed a crime. She knew what was in that car and she took Maisie Lewis. The least she’ll get is diminished responsibility.’
He’s right. But I can’t help but think if she had got help earlier this could have been avoided. I can’t help myself. I have to ask.
‘And the Met? Are they happy to wrap their end up?’
He doesn’t detect my real reason for asking this, the meaning behind the questions.
‘Yep. Sally said that they’re more than happy with all the intelligence they got from the Magellan crew. Everything from counterfeit goods to protection. But you know how it is. Someone else will step into their shoes.’
‘Sally? Sally did the wrap up? What about Pat? Was he happy?’
‘Gone AWOL. Not turned in so Sally dealt with it. To be fair, their part was over. Probably taken some leave.’
Probably taken too much whiskey. Or spent too much in the casino. Pat’s old school. No ringing in sick for him. He’ll just ride the crap he gets and carry on.
‘And Maisie?’
Steve walks me towards the door.
‘Come with me. We’re going to see Marc and Amy Lewis.’
He drives me up to the Lewis’s house and they greet us at the door. Amy’s holding Maisie and she walks out to greet us. It’s miraculous. The grubby child I held so tightly yesterday is now a rosy cheeked, health looking little girl. I notice Amy’s white knuckle hold on her and know that they have more work to do before their lives return to normal. If they ever do. Marc shakes Steve’s hand and bear hugs him.
‘I can’t thank you enough. For getting Amy back. Thank you.’
Steve looks at me.
‘It’s Jan here that you should thank. There’s something you should know about your daughter’s rescue.’
We go inside. The house is warm and inviting and I feel a pang of fear about my own future. We sit in the lounge which has a very different atmosphere to the last time we were here. Steve’s eager to tell them what happened so that we can put the final seal on the case.
‘What we didn’t tell you yesterday was that Jan only got to the car and your daughter in the nick of time. Tina was driving the car into the water. Jan dragged her out and halted the car and waited with Maisie until our guys came and pulled it back. Only seconds later the car exploded. If it wasn’t for Jan it would have been a different story. She hasn’t been home since this case started.’
They stare at me without speaking. I’d rather Steve hadn’t done this, put me on the spot. He could easily have come here alone to do this.
‘Just doing my job. My intention was to negotiate but when I saw Tina… the perpetrator was about to act I had no choice. Right place, right time.’
Amy speaks now. Her arms encircle Maisie who is gurgling happily. I watch as she takes a strand of Amy’s hair and winds it around her fingers.
‘How can we ever thank you, Jan? We’ll tell Maisie about this when she’s older.’
I force a smile.
‘All’s well that ends well.’
They walk us to the door and wave as Steve drives us up to the junction with the A635. But instead of turning left towards Greenfield he turns up the road. In minutes we’re parking near the sailing club. He gets out of the car but I sit there. I sit and look at the familiar landscape, the horizon that’s even more deeply etched onto my memory now. He waits a few second then walks round and opens the door.
‘Come on.’
I reluctantly get out and walk alongside him. The water is lapping at the edge of the reservoir and in the distance I hear the overflow drain rushing water. It’s a beautiful place, but I still feel the fear that still hangs over it.
‘I always do this. Come back to the scene afterwards. It closes a door for me.’
He’s right. It does close a door. But it’s not that simple.
‘Did you go back to Mancheste
r then?’
His head dips. Maybe I said the wrong thing. But eventually he answers.
‘Not at first. It was too painful at first. I nearly didn’t come back to the force. But eventually I did. When it was all rebuilt. But in that space between the doubts and fears had time to grow roots. Weeds. Pull them up they bloody grow again. That’s why I always come back.’
We’re walking towards the cordon. Scene of crime are there going through the tiny remains of the car. I expect most of them would have showered into the water, lost forever. Apart from the yellow tape and the scene of crime in their white cover suits you’d never know what happened here yesterday, or nearly happened. I think about sand in the road after an accident. My accident. The only trace of the day that changed my life and changed me.
But here there’s no sand. Ramblers clamber high on Indian’s head and the windsurfers are back. A group of cyclers arrive at the far and of the yellow tape and grump as they have to turn back. No doubt the press with report that Maisie Lewis was found safe and well with the ex-girlfriend of Glen Wright, a known activist. There are only so many words you can explain a crime in. They won’t want to know about Tina’s story or Glen’s story. They’d love to report on Magellan but if I know the Met they’ll never find out about it. They’ll focus on Amy and Marc for a few days until they realise that they aren’t going to sell their story and then they’ll retreat.
No trace of this will be left, save a few police records and images etched deeply on the memories of those involved, but rarely spoken about. They’ll turn to the next big story and this case will be forgotten.
Steve’s walking across the edge of the water and turns up into the ravine. I follow him until he comes to a halt in front of the cherub.
‘Bloody dolls.’
She hasn’t suffered much in the blast. The very tip off her nose is missing, but that may have happened before. I look more closely and there’s a contented smile on the cherub’s face. She’s quite endearing. No wonder Tina loved her so much. Steve looks at me very seriously.
What I Left Behind (The gripping prequel to the DS Jan Pearce Crime Fiction Series) Page 24