“Are you whoring around with other men?”
A frisson shimmied up Bex’s spine at the sound of Quinn’s arctic voice, colder even than the blue chips of ice staring at Isla from under heavy lids. He swayed one step forward into the room.
Their eyes locked on each other and they seemed oblivious to Bex’s presence.
“Quinn, you’re rip-roaring drunk!” Isla exclaimed. “I shouldn’t have to explain myself. But if you must know, Idris was giving me a shoulder to cry on and offering me the support you should be giving me. It’s just as well, in the condition I’m in, that I’m not the one self-indulgent enough to be in the condition you’re in right now.”
Quinn tottered across the room, closing in on Isla.
“In the condition you’re in…” His voice was as wobbly as his stance.
“That’s what I said.”
“Then you took the test?”
“I took it today.”
A raft of expressions flitted over Quinn’s countenance.
“It’s positive?”
“Isn’t that why you’ve gone out to get drunk tonight? Because you were afraid of a positive result?”
He stood like a man tied to the mast as her voice lashed him savagely. After a few seconds during which it looked like he was mining for inner strength, he said, “You’re not planning to leave me, you’re pregnant.”
Relief layered his words.
Isla blinked rapidly, the action flicking tears to leak from the corners of her eyes. Quinn’s breath rasped in his chest. His voice sounded hoarse and raw with emotion.
“I didn’t go out to get drunk tonight because I was afraid you were pregnant. I got drunk because I was afraid you were going to leave me for good this time.”
“Don’t be such a prat!”
Isla’s tears were flowing faster now and Bex found her own eyes wet as she watched their drama unfold.
“Quinn, I’m not sure how we’ll manage, but I want to keep the baby.”
Quinn dragged her into his arms. A sound in the neighborhood of a sob racked both of them as they clung to each other like shipwrecked survivors.
As Bex tiptoed out of the apartment she heard Quinn crack, “You’ll be the yummiest mummy in Fitzrovia!”
Chapter 27
New Scotland Yard, Friday, April 6
Sheryl’s call for her to attend Titus’s office caught Bex as soon as she stepped through the New Scotland Yard doors. Not even pausing to stop off at her office, she plowed straight upwards to the Chief Superintendent’s domain. Having seen the news broadcast last night and this morning’s breaking news, she had a very clear idea of what Titus wanted to say to her.
Standing in front of Sheryl’s desk, impaled by her relentless gaze, Bex felt her shoulders twitch.
“Chief Superintendent Titus will see you as soon as he’s off the phone to Commander Young.” Sheryl’s voice promised dire repercussions.
When Sheryl offered one of her tight smiles Bex wasn’t sure if it was in commiseration or in anticipation.
Bex’s gaze dropped to the desk. Several crisp new folders were stacked on one side. She saw Cole Mackinley’s name neatly typed on a yellow label on the top file. Tsking sharply, Sheryl slapped a hand on top of the pile and whisked it away.
“Please take a seat, Detective Superintendent and forget you saw these folders. I really shouldn’t tell you this but they belong to the three candidates short-listed for the position you’re temporarily filling. It’s strictly confidential, but one of these gentlemen will be your new boss.”
“The candidates are all male?”
Sheryl yielded up another closed mouth smile. “Sophie Dresden’s defection from the forces has rattled them into scurrying back into male solidarity. Plus every candidate has gone through a vetting so thorough I doubt they could keep a pea up their arse without the interview committee knowing about it.”
Ending her conversation, Sheryl settled her attention back to her computer, while Bex, too agitated to sit, paced the small waiting area.
She had woken up that morning to breaking news by Aislinn Scully that Griffin Loughborough was in fact alive! With forthright ruthlessness, Aislinn had bared the truth that the police had secreted Griffin Loughborough into witness protection for his own safety so that he could present Queen’s evidence at next week’s trial against his father and grandfather. Aislinn had quoted the news as being a confirmed report from ‘unnamed police sources.’
When her phone vibrated in her jacket pocket she checked the caller ID. It was Marty Beeston, the senior officer in charge of Griffin’s witness protection. She brought the phone to her ear just as Sheryl accosted her.
“Chief Superintendent Titus wants to see you now.”
Feeling suddenly dizzy as Beeston spoke rapidly in her ear, Bex collapsed onto a seat in front of Titus. From behind a desk that looked like it was the dumping ground for old case files, Titus faced her like a man whose good humor had run out.
“Wynter, I told you right at the beginning of this case that I wouldn’t condone you lying to the media precisely because it was likely to backfire and drop us in the shit. Yet what am I greeted with this morning when I wake up to enjoy my bacon and eggs? A story from Trending News that paints the police as some stealthy government agency sneaking around behind the public’s back with our cloak and dagger shenanigans. Aislinn Scully presented the police as deliberately deluding the public with our less than transparent processes and yet at the same time so totally inept we can’t even keep a lid on our own ‘unnamed sources’!”
As Titus looked down his nose at her with fastidious disapproval, Bex’s mind went totally blank, leaving her with no come back.
“I’ve had some legal arse named Pomphrey making complaints about you which I’ll have to take seriously and bleating about his client’s rights. Commander Young has already read me the riot act, so don’t look for sympathy in this office. Prepare to call a press conference and eat humble pie by taking full responsibility for this debacle. And I want Griffin Loughborough paraded front and center so there are no more accusations of furtiveness from the London Met!”
“About that, sir—” Bex cleared her throat and began again. “That is, we may need to rethink calling a press conference until we know more about Griffin Loughborough’s status.”
Titus’s face took on a ruddy glow as his brows lowered threateningly.
“What precisely are you saying, Wynter?”
“I’ve just had a call from Marty Beeston who’s in charge of witness protection for Griffin, to say that Griffin appears to be missing.”
Titus’s eyes bulged.
“Wynter, I placed you in this role solely so you could sell our youth crimes initiatives to the public. I gave you only one job to do. One job. To keep Griffin Loughborough safe so he could present Queen’s evidence next week and we can successfully put away one of London’s most notorious crime families! Yet it seems you can’t even handle that!”
The way he was breathing reminded her of a steam train. She hoped he wasn’t going to have a stroke.
“I can fix this, sir, just leave it with me. I’ll get onto Beeston and sort out exactly what’s happened to Griffin,” she promised.
“My God, you’d better be back in my office by midday with a strategy to control the fallout from this news and whoever’s the leak in this case or I swear I’ll ship you back to New York personally and put an end to this police exchange program before anything more calamitous happens!” The words poured out in a long stream of bitter recrimination. “The sooner we appoint someone permanently to your position the better I’ll sleep.”
His words were like a shovel ripping into the earth, digging a hole in which to bury her career. Despite her assurances to Titus, this time she was teetering on a precipice that she might not be able to step back from.
Chapter 28
Bridesmead, Friday, April 6
Idris felt like shit. At any moment he expected Quinn or one of the other team members to tap him on
the shoulder and tell him the gig was up, they knew he’d spilled his guts to Aislinn Scully. He had forced himself to join in their speculation over Aislinn’s revelations that morning about the source of her material.
“I’ll bet there’s no substance to the story at all,” Eli huffed.
“I don’t know about that, Eli. Aislinn was very specific that Griffin was alive and had been transferred to witness protection,” Remy said.
Her worried glance fell on the ballpoint pen flipping between Idris’s twitching fingers before lifting speculatively to his face. Hurriedly he spoke to deflect her attention.
“Quinn, what do you know about this morning’s news?”
Quinn had arrived late to work, looking like he rocked a massive hangover. The pallor was evident under his unshaven cheeks, while his red-veined eyes rivaled carbuncles.
“A standard ‘no comment’ is being issued. But if I discover that one of you bastards has been talking to that journo slag I will hang you out to dry myself. What goes down in an investigation stays within these four walls. Does everybody understand?” he snarled, before closing himself in his cubbyhole of an office.
“Bloody Quinn being offensive again,” Eli complained. “After the way she lambasted me on screen last year I wouldn’t give Aislinn Scully the time of day, let alone a news scoop.”
“As the new kid on the block, I think Quinn’s comments were directed at me,” Remy said. “You and Idris have worked with Quinn long enough to be considered trustworthy. Don’t you think, Idris?”
Idris mopped at the sheen of sweat beading his forehead. He fobbed off her question with a comment that he had to get back to work and buried himself in the investigation with gusto.
The first thing he did was put in a request to extract Drake’s phone records for March 7 and 9, before plowing through the security footage from the Old Canning Town Turkish Baths from March 7. He rewound the tape and slowed it down, stopping the frame on the clearest image. When he looked up for a second opinion he noticed Remy’s absence. Instead, he called Eli over.
“Have a look at this. The quality of the footage is rubbish, but Mortimer and Drake are still recognizable.”
“Yeah, Mortimer’s nose is a classic. No one could fake that profile. Griffin and Drake are very similar, but given that we know Griffin was safely tucked away at Coldmarsh on the 7th, that has to be Drake. Time says 7:18 p.m. What time was that call made from Kaufman’s phone?”
“8:02 p.m. that evening. The duration of the call was nineteen minutes.”
“What time did Mortimer and Drake leave?”
Idris sped through the footage at quadruple speed until they recognized the couple exiting the building.
“8:32 p.m. So the timeframe fits. I’ve gone through Mortimer’s phone calls and there’s no match. I’m waiting on the telco to see what Drake’s phone records reveal.”
Eli gave a long, low whistle. “You think Drake ordered the hit on his own brother? Cain and Able all over again, huh?”
“The evidence points that way.”
Chapter 29
New Scotland Yard, Friday, April 6
At the other end of the line Beeston was almost gibbering as he outlined the situation.
“We scheduled a preliminary appointment for Griffin with Dr. Essan for early this morning. It’s standard practice for all members in the protection program to have counseling and Dr. Essan is one of our regular psychologists.
“We’ve been holding Griffin in a low-key budget motel a couple of hours away from London that we’ve used in the past. A plain clothes officer was in attendance on Griffin twenty-four hours a day in the motel room, so he was never alone. But when Dr. Essan tried to talk with Griffin he became agitated and said he couldn’t speak freely without privacy.”
Bex sipped on the strong black coffee she had taken time to purchase before calling Beeston back. She listened to his account with mounting dread.
“You’re about to tell me the officer left Griffin alone with the psychologist?”
“The officer cuffed one of Griffin’s hands to the desk. He went outside and waited in the car. The parking space was about a hundred meters away from the room but the officer had a clear view of the door at all times.”
The coffee gurgled in Bex’s stomach and she shoved a jelly doughnut into her mouth to stop herself shouting at Beeston. It didn’t matter if the officer had a clear view of the door, what mattered was what he had done with his eyes!
“Inside the room Dr. Essan said Griffin continued to be jittery and couldn’t sit still, so he suggested they have a cup of tea to relax. The kettle was on the desk that Griffin was handcuffed to. Once it boiled they both went to make their cups of tea and Griffin accidently spilled boiling water over Essan, scalding him.
“Essan made a hasty exit to the bathroom to get out of his trousers. Within seconds he swears he heard the outside door open and thought it was our man returning. Then there were some crashing sounds and he heard Griffin shout, ‘no, no!’ Alarmed, he tried to get out of the bathroom to see what was happening but the door was jammed. He tried calling the officer, but his phone had been damaged by the boiling water so he had no signal.
“By the time Essan forced his way out of the bathroom he discovered Griffin was gone. He flagged down our officer from the car, who instituted an immediate search.”
“How long has Griffin been missing?”
“An hour maximum.”
“And your officer saw nobody enter or leave the room?”
“Two housekeepers were doing the rounds with their cleaning carts. A few people exited other rooms, so there was movement passing the door, but Preston swears he saw no one actually enter or leave.”
“How pretty were the housekeepers?”
Beeston’s voice got snarly. “Preston’s got a good record.”
No one would admit to another agency they had a defective officer on the job unless the evidence was irrefutable. Bex let the argument slide.
“Have the housekeepers been questioned yet?”
“Yes, they say they saw nothing. We’ve got forensics going over the room to see what we can unearth and we’re checking for clues from the customer register. There’s no obvious blood splatter to indicate foul play occurred at the time he was removed from the room.”
“How did they get Griffin out if he was handcuffed to the desk?”
“The desk was bolted to the wall, so they smashed the desk leg, which must’ve been what Essan heard from inside the bathroom.”
The half-eaten doughnut on her desk made her feel like gagging, while the rest of it sat heavy as a stone in her stomach.
“What bothers me is, how did they know that Griffin was alone for those few minutes and why would the Loughboroughs kidnap him if they wanted him dead? Why not just kill him when they found him in the room? Something about this kidnapping just doesn’t make sense. Was there a note or any other message left behind?”
“Nothing so far. Maybe the Loughboroughs want to question Griffin before killing him? Of course, there’s no saying how long they’ll keep him alive.”
The truth of his words chilled her to the bone. Just as she was about to hang up, a sudden thought struck home.
“Beeston, did Griffin see his father on the news last night or this morning’s revelation from Trending News?”
“I don’t know. Preston was with Griffin last night. I can check with him and get back to you.”
“Thanks, that would be helpful.”
Bex was so busy berating herself over this latest development in Griffin’s case that she didn’t notice the visitor at her door until Remy Knight gave a discreet cough.
“Detective Sergeant Knight?” Bex couldn’t keep the surprised curiosity out of her voice.
“Can I see you privately for a few minutes?” Remy asked.
“Of course. Take a seat. What brings you here?”
Bex hoped it wasn’t a complaint about the high-handed tactics and misogynistic attitude of
Quinn Standing, unless he saved that behavior solely for her.
Remy strode forward with a supple, easy stride that made Bex think of a long distance runner. She eased herself gracefully onto one of the hard plastic chairs in front of Bex’s desk, which had formerly been Dresden’s. Bex was only too conscious that she had sat on Remy’s side many times facing Sophie Dresden’s implacable façade.
With an effort she snapped her focus to Remy. The young woman wore a serviceable suit of drab beige that blended her into any background, her wide mouth was held in a serious line and her brown hair was scraped back into a severe topknot. Altogether she was someone who attracted little attention if it wasn’t for her eyes. They were a mesmeric bluish green that was easily her most fascinating feature. Remy’s eyes constantly roved as if she was measuring, judging and assessing her surroundings.
When Remy’s gaze finally rested on Bex, she felt their ferocity like the Mojave sun or like an eagle that had its prey in sight. Instinctively she pulled back. Remy noticed her reaction and lowered her eyes to her hands clasped in her lap.
“Technically I know I shouldn’t go over DCI Standing’s head,” Remy said. “But I heard the 7:00 a.m. news this morning that Griffin is still alive and being held in witness protection and I wanted to know if it’s true.”
Bex took her time before replying, wondering if there was any point in denying the truth of Aislinn Scully’s report. Someone had leaked that information to Trending News, and she couldn’t rule out that someone on her team had been responsible. In her heart she couldn’t deny that Remy was high on her suspect list just because she was new to the team.
“I’m bringing this up because I’m worried that report places Griffin back as a target for whoever wanted to get rid of him in the first place. When you spoke to me about this case I could tell you really care what happens to him, don’t you?”
Bex sighed. “Griffin didn’t ask to be born into a criminal family. I believe him when he says he wants out. Turning evidence against his father and grandfather is a brave decision and proof he wants to leave that life behind him.”
Bex Wynter Box Set 2 Page 34