by M. J. Ford
His phone rang, and Jo’s pulse raced, despite her aches and pains. ‘Okay, we’re on our way.’ He turned to Jo. ‘We found the car.’
‘Where?’
‘Parked under a viaduct – two miles west of here outside Charlbury.’
‘I’m surprised he got that far,’ said Jo. She looked at the map, and sure enough saw Charlbury, with a spot marked by hand with the letters ‘CP’. What did it stand for? Concealed Point?
In her head, she carried out some calculations. He might have reached the CP location in five minutes, so the car could have been there an hour already. Charlbury was in mostly open countryside, but there was more forest to its south-west. If he was on foot, that would provide the best cover. More likely though, he’d try to get another vehicle and put as much distance as possible between himself and them.
‘Hey, is this what I think it is?’ asked Reeves.
Both Dimitriou and Jo turned towards her. Reeves was holding something in a handkerchief – a white plastic object about five inches long, tapered at one end. As she carried it towards them, Jo knew exactly what she was looking at. A pregnancy testing device. And on closer inspection, one that had delivered a positive – a distinct cross motif in the results panel.
‘Looks like congratulations are in order,’ said Dimitriou, with a wry shake of the head.
But Jo was on a different page entirely as her mind worked through the implications. Whether or not it was a delayed reaction to the car accident, or the new thought that struck her suddenly, she had to place her hand against the trunk of a tree while she was sick over the ground.
‘Right, no arguments,’ said Dimitriou. ‘We’re taking you to hospital.’
This time, Jo put up no fight. If she was right about the test, the hospital was exactly the place she wanted to be.
* * *
Jo let them carry out their exam, shining lights in her eyes and ears, prodding and poking, and taking her blood pressure. They cleaned the wound on the side of her face, all while she tried to tell them she was okay. She refused the neck-brace they offered.
Andy, she learned, was in surgery. They couldn’t tell her anything more, but she wouldn’t forget that injury in a hurry. It was a lot worse than a standard break.
Though it was frustrating, and several times she considering discharging herself, there was also something quite pleasant about being looked after. She’d told Paul and Amelia not to come, and under no circumstances to bring Theo. She even sent them a selfie to show all was well. She got a video call thirty seconds later.
‘This is becoming a habit,’ said Paul.
‘Woah!’ said Will, crowding into shot behind his dad. ‘Were you inside that car that flipped?’
‘Uh-huh,’ said Jo.
‘He thinks it’s like Grand Theft Auto,’ said Emma, peering over Paul’s other shoulder.
‘Not that much fun,’ said Jo. ‘Is Theo okay?’
‘Better than you, I reckon,’ said Paul. ‘Of course he is. When are you getting out? I’ll come and grab you.’
‘Really soon,’ she said. ‘I’ll get a cab.’
‘You’d better not,’ said Paul. ‘The bed’s all set up here, and Amelia’s going over to yours now to pick up some clothes and things.’
‘You don’t have to,’ said Jo.
Paul smiled. ‘We’re not having this conversation again,’ he said. ‘And you’re in no position to argue. Call me, whatever time it is.’
* * *
Throughout the time she was being treated, the pregnancy test rose intermittently into her thoughts, like a buoy amid rough seas rising on the crest of a wave. When she’d seen it in the forest camp, its meaning had been so clear, but after some time to reflect she wondered if she was jumping to conclusions. Heidi arrived, just after six pm, while Jo was awaiting a final sign-off. She brought some chocolates, and no good news from the front line.
‘Brown’s disappeared again,’ she said. ‘Like a bloody ghost.’
It’s just like Corporal Kinnear said. If he doesn’t want to be found …
‘Have you seen Andy?’
‘I popped up,’ she said. ‘His family are in with him. Didn’t want to intrude. Doc said he’s pretty out of it still. He almost lost that arm.’
‘It was awful,’ said Jo. She wondered if Heidi meant the whole family or just the kids.
‘Dimi and Alice have ordered in a takeaway,’ said Heidi. ‘They’re standing by at the station in case anything comes up tonight.’
‘I should be with them,’ said Jo.
‘I don’t think Dimi would appreciate that,’ said Heidi, with a knowing tilt of the head.
‘You think he’s trying it on with her, don’t you?’
Heidi nodded. ‘Have you ever known George Dimitriou to pass up an opportunity?’
‘She’s getting married!’ said Jo.
‘Getting,’ said Heidi. ‘Not got.’
‘You’re being unfair,’ said Jo. ‘He often puts in overtime. I remember he worked loads of overtime on that case involving the model who was being stalked last year.’
‘Oh yeah,’ said Heidi. ‘I take it all back.’ They both laughed and enjoyed the moment, before the pregnancy bobbed up again in Jo’s mind. Heidi looked at her watch. ‘Speaking of overtime, I have to go. You need a lift somewhere?’
‘It’s okay – my brother’s coming. I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Jo waited for Heidi to go, then walked down to the main desk. Her clothes were a crumpled mess, with a bloodstain on her cuff, but she rolled down her sleeve to cover most of it. ‘I need to speak to Greg Bailey,’ she said to the receptionist. ‘Do you know where I can find him?’
‘He’s in IC3,’ said the receptionist, before looking Jo up and down. ‘Are you family?’
‘No,’ said Jo. She took out her badge. ‘I’m trying to find the person who shot him.’
‘He’s not really up to receiving visitors,’ said the receptionist.
Jo nodded. ‘Understood.’
She backed off, letting the next in line move up, then followed the signs to the intensive care unit.
* * *
There was a security door to IC3, but Jo waited until a harassed-looking orderly was heading in with a gurney, and tagged along behind, clutching her box of chocolates with a wan smile. The act probably wasn’t necessary, as the orderly barely batted an eyelid as she followed him through.
Finding Bailey’s room without asking one of the staff was going to be tough, but by chance she saw a familiar face emerging from a ward ahead. It was Father Tremayne, the priest from Stanton St John. Before he had chance to clock her, Jo backed into a small waiting area with beverage-making facilities, and let him pass. Once he’d done so, she quickly brewed two instant coffees. With the chocolates tucked her arm, the coffees in each hand, she strode confidently towards the ward, and used her backside to open the swinging doors.
The Venetian blinds at the far end were drawn across, casting the room in twilight. Of the six beds, only two were filled. Nearest the door, a middle-aged man lay on his side, asleep. She walked to the far end, where Greg Bailey was lying, half reclined. One arm above the sheets was heavily bandaged. He watched her approach, but neither his eyes nor his expression showed surprise. He was linked up to several monitors, including one that silently displayed his heart rate.
‘What are you doing here?’ he said.
‘Brought you a coffee,’ she said. ‘How are you doing?’
‘How do I look?’ he said.
‘Not great, if I’m honest. May I sit down?’
He looked away, towards the windows. ‘Do you mind letting in some light?’
Jo set the coffees and the chocolates down, and pulled a chain to adjust the blinds. Outside, the evening sun was still strong, and its rays fell across the floor and bed. Bailey squinted, and rolled his head back again. The light picked out his pale lashes and added a pink, almost translucent glow to his eyelids. His previously clear skin looked blotchy, his lips
dry.
‘Would you like some water?’ asked Jo.
‘Yes, please.’
She offered him a cup, but rather than raise a hand, he merely craned his head. She held it to his lips, and he drank. ‘Thank you.’
Jo set the cup down, and took the chair beside the bed.
‘Greg, can I talk to you about what happened?’
‘Someone shot me,’ he said.
‘We know that. Do you know why?’
He answered with an uninterested query of his own. ‘What happened to your face?’
‘I had a run-in with the same man. Do you know who he is?’
‘Should I?’
‘You had a lot of money for him,’ said Jo.
His face twitched. ‘It wasn’t for him,’ he said. ‘It was for her. Like I told you, before – I wanted her gone.’
Jo blew on her coffee. With each second he lied, she was more sure of herself. In an interview room, she would have gone for the kill straight away, but it felt wrong in this context. There was no vying for power here. He was at her mercy, trapped under a tightly tucked hospital blanket, and tethered to machines.
‘I remember that, Greg,’ she said. ‘But you knew we were looking for her. You should have called us.’
His heart rate was steadily creeping up through the eighties. He didn’t speak for a while, then he spoke softly. ‘Can you ring Chalmers please?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I want him here, if you’re going to ask me questions.’
Jo sipped. ‘You don’t need a lawyer, Greg. We’re on the same side, aren’t we?’
He didn’t answer at all, but he had crossed ninety beats per minute.
‘Greg, Chalmers was the one who told us about the money. We saw the messages you sent. You were scared and anxious. Your friend Rohan said you were agitated. Why?’
‘Because I wanted her gone,’ said Bailey firmly. ‘Are you deaf?
His face was still, but the heart-rate monitor told another story. The beeping intensified to over 100bpm.
‘Greg, did you have a sexual relationship with Megan?’
‘Don’t be fucking disgusting,’ he said.
110.
‘She was pregnant before, too – when she was at school. The identity of the father wasn’t known.’
‘Well it wasn’t me! She’s my sister, for Chrissakes.’
115.
‘She’s not though. Not really. And the law recognises it – it’s not illegal to have sexual relations with an adoptive sibling.’
Though if she’s twelve, that’s a different kettle of fish entirely.
‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ said Bailey. He looked firmly towards the door. ‘I … I want you to leave.’
‘I’m sure you do,’ said Jo. ‘Thing is, I’ve had a rough old day. My colleague and I have been chasing the guy who shot you, and we’ve both ended up in here. We thought he was some sort of drug dealer, ready to blast up a Jericho café just for some cash. But that never made any sense. I mean, if you were delivering the money, there was no reason to hurt you like that. But if it was personal … well, that makes all the difference. And what could be more personal than you fucking his underage sister. His real, blood sister.’
Bailey glanced at her, momentarily on guard.
‘You didn’t know that, did you?’ she continued. ‘But that’s why he did it. She must have told him what you did to her.’
‘I didn’t do anything. It was her, every time.’
‘Greg, she’s pregnant again,’ said Jo. ‘And this time, a simple test is going to prove who the father is. But it’s going to be okay.’
‘Please, stop talking like that,’ said Bailey. His lips had twisted.
‘You’re not going to be in trouble, Greg,’ she lied. ‘These sorts of things happen all the time. If anything, it’s your parents’ fault. How old were you when they dumped her on you? Nine? I doubt you even wanted a sister, right? And you certainly never saw her as one.’
‘You don’t know what she’s like,’ said Bailey.
‘But we do. We’ve got all the reports from the people who knew her. She uses sex to get what she wants. Just like when she sent those pictures to her teacher. She’s damaged, Greg. Anyone can see that. I’ve no doubt at all that she came on to you.’
Greg didn’t answer, because he’d begun to cry. Eyes sunken, he looked literally hollowed out – a shell of the young man who’d bossed the meeting at Chalmers’ office. Not a man at all any more, but a boy. Jo felt something close to sympathy for him and thought about stopping. Not yet. I’ve got to hear it. Got to work it all out.
‘Did your parents know?’
‘Know what, for fuck’s sake?’ he sobbed.
‘About what was happening. What Megan was like.’ What you were like, she meant. Their biological child. Their boy.
He stared at her suddenly, fierce and defiant, but she could see it was a last stand. An act of outraged innocence. Like she’d seen hundreds of times in interview rooms over the years.
‘Did they?’ she pushed.
Sure enough, the fire in his eyes died and he turned away again. ‘They knew,’ he muttered.
And there he was again, in her thoughts unbidden. Her little boy. So innocent, so untouched by any of the horrors that lay in wait. Incorruptible, for now at least. She imagined what Mrs Bailey would have thought, what she had really known about the relationship between her two children, so unsuccessfully thrown together with only good intentions and Christian zeal. Had she still found it in her heart to love her son, even after all that? Of course she had. Perhaps Greg, beneath the contortions of his face, was thinking of the same thing.
‘It’s going to be all right,’ she said. ‘We can talk later, when you’re better.’
In reality, an arrest for statutory rape and sex with a minor would follow, though if the case would ever see court was another question. Certainly he’d be listed on the sex offenders register for a lengthy period.
Bailey’s upper body shook under the blankets as he wept.
His spiking heart rate must have alerted the staff, because a nurse walked in through the door. When she saw Jo and the state of Greg Bailey, she sped up. ‘Who are you? You shouldn’t be in here,’ she said sternly.
Jo stood, leaving the box of chocolates, and showed her badge. ‘I’m leaving,’ she said.
As she left the room, and the nurse went to Bailey, Jo bumped into Dr Wilson Kim. He frowned to see her. ‘Hello?’ he said.
‘I was just passing by, and needed to speak to Mr Bailey. I’m afraid he’s distressed.’
Kim nodded. ‘He took the news badly,’ he said.
It was Jo’s turn to frown. ‘What news?’
‘His coccygeal nerves were irreparably damaged,’ said Dr Kim. ‘We did what we could. He may get a little feeling back around the pelvis, but he won’t ever walk again.’
* * *
She took a cab, rather than calling her brother. After all that happened, and all the help they had given to her unbidden, she couldn’t ask for more, even though he’d insisted.
Will was in bed, and Emma was at her boyfriend’s place. After Jo had been upstairs to check on a sleeping Theo, safely installed in an ancient cot, she returned downstairs to have a glass of wine thrust into her hand by Amelia. Around their kitchen table, she gave the barest details of her day, sparing the sordid facts that had recently emerged. Neither Paul nor her sister-in-law pressed for more, and they contented themselves instead with sharing Will’s latest school report, with Amelia explaining what coded words such as ‘spirited’ and ‘creative’ really meant in the lingo of the teaching profession. The semblance of normality was a welcome distraction, even if Jo knew in the back of her mind it was only temporary.
Chapter 26
THURSDAY, 24TH APRIL
Just how temporary was highlighted when her phone rang at seven in the morning. She fumbled for it with her mind still booting up.
‘Hello?’
‘Sergeant Masters?’
‘Speaking.’
‘Hi, sorry to bother you so early, ma’am – you’re listed as SIO on the Bailey case …’
Jo sat up quick enough to make her head spin, taking in the surroundings of her brother’s guest room. Theo was still asleep.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Probable sighting, ma’am. I’m Sergeant Wethers, Gloucestershire. We’re responding to aggravated burglary at a vet’s outside Kingham.’
Jo wondered if she’d misheard.
‘As in, a veterinary practice?’
‘That’s right. A man and a woman held the place up at gunpoint. Descriptions match James Brown and Megan Bailey.’
Jo looked at Theo, blissfully unaware. Little Steps didn’t open its door until eight am, but Amelia had already offered the night before to babysit while Jo ‘rested’.
‘I’ll be right there,’ she said guiltily.
She had only the barest details to go on as she sped towards the address DS Wethers had provided. They tried to speak on the phone a couple of times, but the signal kept cutting out as she drove through the Cotswold countryside. The break-in had happened around midnight, and a single member of staff had been injured, but hadn’t been discovered until six am when his colleagues arrived. An off-road vehicle had also been stolen.
Jo found the place just after eight. It was half a mile from Kingham itself, remote and rural, and from the sign out front – showing the words ‘Pegasus House’ and a rearing horse – Jo guessed it was a specialist in equine care. She drove along a lane lined with fencing towards a row of stables beside a farmhouse. There were several cars parked in a yard, including a patrol vehicle.
A suited man walked to meet her as she switched off the engine.
‘Ma’am, Hugh Wethers,’ he said.
‘Any sign of the vehicle?’
‘No, ma’am. It was a 1992 Land Rover Defender. Safe to assume it’s gone off-road.’
She followed him into the farmhouse, passing the stables. Several stalls were occupied with horses. The smell brought back memories of her youth – she’d once been a keen rider, and every year promised herself she’d take up the reins again. Now, with Theo on the scene, that seemed more unlikely than ever.