Transferred from a high profile commercial organization, Nigel’s definition of success was seeing his DCIs limbo under his ever-lowering financial bar. Bex was convinced he’d prefer them not to deal with any crimes at all.
She was also beginning to learn that Nigel’s modus operandi was leaving her to deal with the fallout from his economic decisions. When she informed her cantankerous second-in-command, Quinn Standing, and CID Detective Inspector Oliver Yabsley that they had been ordered to abandon the Loughborough case, Quinn had snorted his derision.
“This is the crap that passes for policing now the Met’s letting in direct entry civilians instead of promoting officers from within its ranks. Bloody ‘God’ as he calls himself, doesn’t give a rat’s arse about the officers under his command. We’re just paltry underlings to do his bidding.”
As they were leaving, she heard him mutter to Yabsley, “Bloody hell, I never thought I’d say this, but I miss Wynter acting up in the superintendent’s role.”
Following that incident Quinn made no effort to hide his loathing for Nigel’s ignorance of the street or dealing with actual criminals. Bex suspected Nigel didn’t give a ‘rat’s arse’ that no one on the Youth Crimes Team was enamored of him. She wondered why he seemed to think he was only doing a good job if his subordinates hated him.
Bex herded her thoughts back to the present. Her first task was to address Nigel’s snippy request for a justification of her team’s overtime during their last shift. She rested her hands on the keyboard, but her fingers didn’t move. Instead she felt her attention being pulled to Dr. Lakshmi Varma’s report sitting in her purse.
Endometrial thickening.
Detectable gestational sac.
Results consistent with gestational age 4.5 weeks.
Dr. Varma, an obstetrician at the women’s health clinic she had attended that morning, had told her it was still too early in the pregnancy to get a reading on the fetal pole. So there was no tiny blip for Bex to see or heart beat to hear.
Bex had demanded to know if that meant she was really pregnant.
“Apart from some nausea a couple of weeks ago, I don’t have any symptoms. I simply don’t feel pregnant.”
“Come back in three to four weeks and then you’ll see the beginnings of your baby.” Dr. Varma smiled with sympathy. “Sometimes pregnancy is a shock if you aren’t expecting it.” She had handed Bex a number of pamphlets covering everything from embryo developmental milestones to giving the baby up for adoption. “Being in the first trimester you may still miscarry, so if your job is particularly active or dangerous you should think about what duties you undertake.”
Bex’s hand dropped from the keyboard to her stomach. She rubbed her palm over her flat stomach, so tight she could rap a tattoo on it, fighting to adjust to the fact that a new life was forming inside her. Now the pregnancy had been confirmed by medical science, not just the three home pregnancy tests she had refused to believe, she knew she was going to have to tell Cole the news.
She picked up her phone. No, she couldn’t break this news to him in a text. It would have to be face to face. She sent a message asking him to swing by her place after dinner tonight.
Then she forced herself to continue with her paperwork.
Chapter 4
Bridesmead CID, London
Monday, 23 April
Bex didn’t raise her head until Detective Sergeant Eli Morgan knocked on her closed door and poked his head around the jamb. Becoming aware of raised voices beyond him, she glanced at her watch and noted that she had missed a lunch break several hours ago. From the look of Eli’s shirt he hadn’t. A splotch of sauce spread like a handprint under a tie so tight it threatened to strangle him.
“Bex, we’re going down to the Sail and Ale for some bevvies to celebrate Reuben’s return to work. Just checking if you want to come with us?”
“I’m sorry, Eli. As much as I’d love to come…” Bex threw a hand over a snowdrift of files stacked in front of her to emphasize how busy she was. “Have a pint for me, won’t you?”
When he left, she rubbed her palms over her tired eyes, tempted to shut her laptop and join them. But she knew she had to make up for the missed hours from this morning or she would regret it the following day. She rotated her cramped shoulders before stretching her arms overhead. Then her phone buzzed.
She answered it to a rasping voice at the other end of the line.
“Bex! Thank God you answered the phone!”
Despite the relief she could hear, his voice was strained and she knew straight away it wasn’t a social call.
“What’s wrong, Walt? Has the hot water system broken down again?”
When her husband died sixteen months ago, Bex had taken his insurance money and plowed it into a refuge center for young delinquents. She wanted to give a second chance to those who had been released from juvenile prison and didn’t want to fall back into old habits. To run the place, she needed the right kind of tough guy to manage the boys, enforce rules and keep them occupied in their down time.
Her homicide partner, Walt Slusarczyk, a broken man after his friend Zane’s death, had taken an early retirement from the homicide squad. She knew he was at a loose end and had dangled the position in front of him, persuading him it was something that would honor Zane. Under his care, the Zane Wynter Halfway House was gaining a credible reputation for its efforts to keep young teens out of trouble.
“It’s worse than that. Bex, I don’t know how to break this to you gently so I’m just going to blurt it out. A court order has been issued to freeze the trust funds from Zane’s insurance money. As of today, the bank will no longer release cash for the running of the Zane Wynter Halfway House.”
Bex waited a beat, sure she would hear Walt’s throaty chuckle at his own sick sense of humor.
“Bex? Did you hear what I said?”
“Okay, Walt, what’s the punch line? Because if you’re hoping my salary will fund —”
“Bex, you know me. I’ll joke about murder, about bleeding hearts and pussy politicians but I’ll never joke about money.”
“Then I don’t understand, Walt. Why would the bank do something so insane? And why would a court issue such an order?”
Walt’s breath whistled down the receiver.
“There’s no easy way to tell you this.”
“Stop leaving me hanging to dry. Just spit it out.” Bex’s terse tones were a giveaway that he had alarmed her.
“Zane’s attorney, Joachim Weiss, contacted me with the news that Zane’s ex-wife, Karen, turned up out of the blue contesting in court this morning that her divorce from Zane isn’t legal. If you remember, Zane’s divorce from Karen was a publication divorce because he couldn’t locate her. All he could do was put a public notice in the newspaper in the one in a million chance that she would read it. The court allowed him a default divorce because she never responded. Karen’s claiming she and Zane are still legally married.”
A feeling of light-headedness washed over her, so strong that she had a sense her head was expanding to fill the tiny office and would lift off her shoulders at any minute. She raised her arm, touching a fingertip gingerly to her forehead just to make sure it was still attached. It was, so why didn’t Walt’s words make sense?
“Do you understand what I’m saying, Bex? Karen’s contesting both the divorce and Zane’s will. Weiss says her lawyer’s filed a motion to vacate the default divorce judgment. If he succeeds, the court will rule she’s still his wife, or at least his widow, and is entitled to his full estate. The matter will have to go to a hearing, but in the meantime the judge has issued the injunction to freeze your access to Zane’s money. Weiss has managed to get an emergency hearing slated for this Wednesday, but if you want any chance to counter her claims you’re going to have to attend the hearing. If you don’t return to New York, Weiss says he can’t guarantee the outcome will be in your favor.”
Walt’s words left her mind a shocked blank.
S
he stared unseeingly at the fingers of her left hand digging into the cheap wood of her desk. The rest of her body had stiffened, braced as though her plane was crash landing, in an effort to stop the trembling deep inside. She didn’t care about the money except that it was the lifeline for the house she had established in Zane’s name. This stranger from Zane’s past threatened to take away Bex’s last links to Zane: the halfway house and her status as Zane’s wife and widow. It would be as though Zane had never existed in her life.
“Bex, what do you want me to tell Weiss? Can you come to New York?”
With an effort she unclenched her fingers. With a jagged breath she managed to steady her voice.
“This whole scenario sounds unbelievable. Karen went missing fifteen years ago. How do we know this woman is who she says she is? It could be one big scam. Have you and Weiss thought of that?”
“She had to produce documentation to prove her identity as Karen Wynter to the court. She looks legit. She also has Kristian with her.”
Walt’s voice faded to a thin whisper.
Bex ran a tongue over suddenly parched lips. “Does he look like Zane?”
“I haven’t seen him. Karen produced his birth certificate so he seems legit too.”
“So she knows Zane set up a trust fund for Kristian?”
The loss of his son had left a hole in Zane’s heart that not even Bex could fill. Although he never spoke about it with her, she knew it was behind his desire to have more children. She had put pregnancy off for a future that had never materialized.
“Karen’s already applied to become Kristian’s trustee.”
“Does Neil know Karen and Kristian are back?”
“Yes. Listen, Neil didn’t want me to tell you this, but I think you have a right to know. It might influence your decision to come to New York. Neil’s applied to the bank to remortgage his house in order to free enough funds to keep the halfway house running until this legal fiasco can be sorted. Karen’s also tendered a claim against the estate for child and spousal support for the past fifteen years.”
A burning anger replaced the shock, fueled by outrage at the slur Karen placed on Zane as a father. It was Zane’s never-ending disappointment that he had never had contact with Kristian, despite hiring numerous investigators over the years.
“Hard to financially support someone who disappeared without a forwarding address!” Bex said bitterly. “You know that Zane never willingly let his son disappear from his life! Shit, Walt, what’s Karen playing at? You used to know the woman, what’s her angle? Because in a court case like this, the cost of lawyers alone could eat through Zane’s inheritance and leave nothing behind.”
“I haven’t seen her in fifteen years so I don’t know what motivates her any more. Weiss said she held together pretty well in court this morning, but he thinks she’s using drugs. Her motivation could be as simple as greed. More money to feed her habit. Or as complicated as revenge. When they were together Karen couldn’t stand not having Zane’s full attention, even if they were out with friends. Maybe the shock of discovering he’d moved on and remarried was enough to spark feelings of betrayal.”
“Well, she’d better get used to it. Because I’ll be damned if I let her take away the five years Zane and I had together or waltz back to New York to steal the money that lets his legacy live on. There’s only one Mrs Wynter around and that’s me!”
“Does that mean you’ll be here for the emergency hearing?”
“Damn straight!” she snapped.
Chapter 5
Ingle Road, Ealing
Monday, 23 April
Bex checked her passport and phone were tucked safely in her purse. She had managed to book a late flight out of Heathrow. Nigel had granted her a week’s leave to attend to “a family matter” and she had evaded his clumsy attempts to drill her for details. She had never discussed her past with anyone in London and had no intention of starting with Nigel Goderich.
Her packed overnight case stood by the door. She was taking nothing but the bare essentials with her and would buy her toiletries when she arrived.
There was only one thing to do before she left and that was tell Cole her pregnancy news.
A difficult task since she had a hard time believing the results herself. A one-night stand was all her relationship with Cole was meant to be. Cole’s persistence had led to another dinner. She knew she hadn’t protested hard enough to stop several more encounters ending inexorably under what Cole called the duvet.
She couldn’t deny there was a definite physical spark between them and that was all she asked for. A warm body to hold her when nightmares rode hard and fast through her sleep. He never pried into what woke her so abruptly. He never asked a single question about her life in New York. Sometimes she wondered if that was because he wanted to keep their relationship uncomplicated or if he was also hiding his own baggage. Just like her, Cole never divulged secrets from his past. His reticence suited her because she wasn’t ready to move on from Zane. Guilt sat in a heavy, solid lump on her shoulders. She had lived. Zane had died.
Cole stressed neither of them wanted complications. Didn’t that mean he regarded what they had as a stopgap, not the start of a meaningful relationship? She gnawed her lip. She neither knew how best to break her news nor how he would react to it. Yet he was a decent man, so he deserved to know.
A rap at the door startled her even though she was expecting him.
Just like ripping off a Bandaid, she had decided that tonight would be the best time to tell Cole, before she flew to New York. That would give him a week on his own to sort out his feelings. When she returned they would discuss how to handle a baby.
When she opened the door, one look at Cole’s knitted brow told her she’d have to pick her moment.
He waved a bottle of gin in her direction. “I feel like getting drunk with some company,” he said.
She pulled him inside. “Bad day at the office?”
“You could say that.”
Bex moved towards the kitchen bench. Pulling two tumblers out of the drawer she half filled one with gin for him and sluiced a finger in the second tumbler. She had a flight to catch and didn’t want to be kicked off for being drunk. She grabbed a bottle of tonic water from the fridge. Gin and tonic was Cole’s drink and she had taken to keeping a stock of tonic in the fridge to cater for his late-night visits. She handed the glass to him.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He gulped the drink straight down, obviously trying to take the edge off a hellish day.
“An NCA officer was killed in an explosion today.”
“Did you know him?”
With care, Cole placed the glass on the countertop.
“Not well, but I had a bad feeling about this whole operation.”
She skirted the bench to lean her head against his shoulder. At six foot three Cole was tall enough for her to do that.
She stayed silent. There was no point in saying it wasn’t Cole’s fault. Those words didn’t help and she knew that only too well.
Cole’s arms circled around her and he buried his face against her neck, muffling his voice. “I don’t have long to spare, Bex. The whole office is working around the clock on this case.” He hesitated as though he was about to reveal more, but then his mouth closed firmly. “Why did you want to see me tonight?”
She almost blurted out the news of the pregnancy but she held herself back. Tonight was not the night. Cole was already stressed.
“I’m flying to New York tonight to deal with some family business. I’ll be gone for a week,” she said.
Instead of being disappointed by her absence, he seemed relieved that she was leaving London.
“Where was the explosion?” Bex queried.
Cole released her to pour himself another drink and she had the distinct impression he was withholding something from her.
“North east of the city. What time does your flight leave?”
Undeterred by his c
hange of subject, she picked up her phone, typing in a few key words, then scrolled through the results. Her eyes flicked over words, picking out the important facts. When she stumbled over Lander Dresden’s name she halted and reread the paragraph.
Shoreditch Court Bombing: Police should have done more to prevent attack, says witness
No suspects have yet been identified in this morning’s bomb blast in front of Shoreditch County Court, London. Police have confirmed there were three casualties from the blast and six others have been hospitalized, two in a critical condition.
Felix Nutkin was attending court on charges of unlawful shooting of police officer Lander Dresden in 2006 and is a confirmed victim. The driver and an armed guard in the police van were also killed, but their details are yet to be released to the public.
The police have issued a statement to say an investigation into the blast is pending…
“Bloody hell, Cole!” she used her favorite British oath with vehemence. “What does this mean? Are you telling me that twelve years ago, Felix Nutkin shot Lander Dresden and police have just caught him now? My God, if Sophie Dresden finds out about this!”
“Come on, hen,” he said in a wheedling voice, offering her his lopsided smile. “You know I can’t disclose any details about the case I’m involved in.”
She glared at him.
“Get that shit-eating grin off your face, Cole! Do you really expect me to believe that police located Lander Dresden’s shooter just weeks after a warrant was issued for Sophie Dresden’s arrest? The odds on that must be higher than me winning the national lottery. What aren’t you telling me?” Her tone was sharp, her eyes even sharper as they scrutinized him. Cole’s hazel eyes wavered and dipped.
“The odds are gobsmacking, I know,” he said. “That means amazing,” he clarified.
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