She shook her head to dispel the thought and gazed around her. This room hadn’t been done up yet, but she liked it. The faded wallpaper, wide blue and white stripes, at least matched the worn blue carpet. Rosie had put a fresh navy duvet on the bed and filled the white painted fireplace with candles, flickering now like drowsy eyelashes. Cora pulled on her pyjamas, ran a comb through her hair and went to blow the candles out.
She paused by the window on her way back to bed, pulling aside the slightly tatty white curtains. The street outside was silent and empty, a light drizzle softening the yellow light from the street lamps. Suddenly a fox appeared, snuffling around the gatepost opposite, its sharp nose worrying the nooks and crannies, looking for dinner. A car drove past, and in its headlights the fox’s eyes flashed emerald green. It slunk into the shadows and was gone.
Urban foxes. There was something fascinating about them, Cora thought, those clever, wild creatures scavenging in town centres when everyone was asleep, surviving and thriving so far outside their natural environment. She climbed into bed, recoiling as her feet hit hot rubber. Rosie thought of everything! She pulled the hot water bottle up and hugged it against her chest as she sank into the soft, old mattress. Out on the landing, she heard creaks and whispers as Will and Alistair came up to join their wives, and then all was silent.
Before sleep slowly overcame her, Cora’s thoughts drifted yet again back to Justin. Damn, she missed him. And yes, there was undoubtedly something very odd going on. But she was as certain as she could be of one thing – her ex-boyfriend was not a killer. Behaving suspiciously, yes. Very. But capable of murder?
‘No. Definitely not,’ she murmured into the darkness. But who then? Who on earth killed Jeanette? Who could have wandered through the newsroom, unremarked upon, made their way into the editor’s office without challenge, and then left again? Cora’s final thought as her heavy eyelids finally closed was a chilling one. Could the murderer really, possibly, be somebody she knew?
14
Wednesday 27th December
‘BRRRRRR! BRRRRRR! BRRRRRR!’
On her bedside table, Cora’s mobile was ringing like a thing possessed. Dragging herself out of a deep sleep, she glanced at her alarm clock before she pressed the call button: 1.30 a.m., and she’d only gone to bed at 11.
Here we go, she thought.
‘Hello. News desk, I presume?’
‘Morning, Cora. Happy Wednesday – sorry to start you so early.’ Sam sounded apologetic.
Cora groaned, sinking back onto her pillow in the inky darkness and pulling the duvet over her head to make the most of her last few seconds in bed. ‘Where am I going then? I’m obviously in for a long drive if you’re calling this early.’
‘We need you to go and find snow, I’m afraid. Reports coming in of quite a bit starting to fall in Derbyshire, possibly around Buxton? We’re not sure really though. See what you can get. The crew are going to meet you at Frankley services and you can go in convoy from there. We’re hoping for lives from six. Sorry babe. Oh – and we’ll get you to do an update on Jeanette later too – I’ll fill you in when you’re properly awake. Thanks. Speak later.’
Cora sighed. ‘I’m on my way. Later.’
She put the phone down and shut her eyes for a moment in her warm cocoon, still trying to put off getting out of bed. Her job was a pain in the bum sometimes. While the producers in the newsroom in London were able to get some guidance from the Met Office and the programme’s weather forecaster, it was pretty hard for anyone to guarantee there would be snow in a particular location while the show was on air. So the only way to make sure a reporter was standing there in snow was for that reporter to get out there and find it. Cora exhaled loudly and grumpily, poked a hand from under the duvet and flicked the light on. Living alone had its advantages – Justin would have been huffing and sighing by now. Blinking, she rolled out of bed and, already shivering, headed for the bathroom.
A few hours later she was huddled in her car, heater blasting, as she poured the first cup of tea of the day from the new flask Nathan had given her for Christmas. He and Rodney, parked up behind her on the grass verge of a twisty road in the middle of the Peak District, were having a quick pre-live snooze, but a little pool of yellow light emanated from the truck, and inside she could see Scott on the phone, sorting out satellite clearance. It was dark as a dungeon outside, but at least there was a fine dusting of snow, and it was still falling gently. By six, there should be enough to make a decent live. There had flipping better be, after that icy drive through the night. Cora sipped her tea and watched the flakes landing softly on her windscreen like tiny white feathers. It was ridiculous, she thought, how excited the programme got about snow. In fact, about any bad weather at all. Still, at least they’d managed to find a live location pretty easily this time – it was even more stressful when six o’clock was approaching and they were still tearing around, trying to find somewhere, anywhere, to broadcast from.
She opened the door a crack and tipped the dregs of the tea out, shivering as the icy air rushed into the car. Then she shoved the cup back into her glove compartment and looked at the clock on her dashboard. Ten past five. She opened the door of the car, stepped out gingerly, walked carefully round to the boot of her car and started rooting. Her Emu boots, definitely needed those today. She pushed aside a waterproof coat and trousers and some long, green waders and finally found her red fleece and a matching pair of thermal gloves. Shrugging the fleece on with some difficulty – she was already wearing a long-sleeved thermal vest and a thick polo neck – she zipped it to the neck, slammed the boot closed again and headed warily to the truck, pausing on the way to knock on Nathan and Rodney’s car windows. They gave her sleepy thumbs up signs, both grimacing at the prospect of the morning ahead.
In the van, Scott was raising the satellite dish.
‘Everything OK?’ Cora slammed the sliding door behind her.
‘Fine, fine. So – good Christmas? Justin a dim and distant nasty memory?’
Cora settled into the passenger seat and started pulling off her trainers to replace them with the boots.
‘Yes, he damn well is. I am officially forgetting he ever existed,’ Cora lied.
And then, more truthfully: ‘And yeah, really good Christmas, thanks. I just hung out with the girls really – Christmas at Rosie’s. You have a good one?’
‘Not really, no.’
‘Oh no! I’m sorry, Scott – why? What happened?’
Scott didn’t reply. Frowning, he pressed a few buttons. ‘Bastard thing. Keeps getting stuck. I’m at my wick’s end with this dish.’
‘Wit’s,’ said Cora automatically.
‘OK, wit’s end then. Hang on – think it’s locking up now – yes! We’re in business.’
He turned back to Cora. ‘So … Christmas …’ He paused.
‘Well … to be honest …’ He paused again.
‘Oh, nothing really. It was just a quiet one, that’s all. Me and Elaine and the girls, and the parents popped in. I got a fantastic pressie from Mum and Dad though – a Victorian toilet mirror, satinwood frame, little hinged velvet trinket tray, the works. Looks brilliant in the downstairs loo. Well impressed.’
He smiled, but Cora could tell something wasn’t quite right. Was he having marriage problems or something? It would explain his recent moodiness. She was about to press him further when the door slid open and Nathan and Rodney leapt in, already bundled up in their outdoor gear.
‘Find friggin’ snow! Well, we’ve found some, I suppose. It’s not exactly blizzard conditions though, is it? I mean, it is December – hardly unusual to have a little bit of snow. Bloody stupid.’
Nathan stamped a few flakes off his boots, and they melted immediately, leaving a minute puddle on the truck floor.
Cora stood up, and pulled her coat on over the fleece.
‘I know, I know! You know what it’s like, though – I had half a feeling when I went to bed last night that we’d be called out
. Come on, let’s get out there and try and make it look half decent. I’ve spoken to Sam – she said as long as it keeps snowing they’ll come to us every half an hour.’
‘Arse!’
Nathan slapped Scott good-humouredly across his shaved head with a glove. Scott shoved him back. Rodney, who was wearing his new green and white golf trousers with a purple Gore-Tex jacket, pinched Nathan’s bum hard, and Nathan turned and whacked him. Cora shook her head and climbed out of the truck. Honestly, sometimes it was like working with five-year-olds.
‘So – Christina’s definitely in the clear? Gosh, that’s a relief.’
A few minutes before the eight o’clock news, Cora was getting an update on Jeanette’s case from Sam.
‘Yes – she might have been angry and upset on Dead Dog Day, but she didn’t kill anyone. Apparently the cops worked out the timeline properly over Christmas and they don’t think it could have been her. I think they’re still looking at Clancy though, from what I’ve heard on the grapevine. Well, they always look close to home first, don’t they? And she has no alibi, you see – she says she was back home in bed by the time Jeanette was killed, but there was nobody else in the house. They’re trying to get proof of that somehow. Seem to think she could have sneaked back in to the newsroom later, sometime after she dropped Jeanette off. Although I certainly didn’t see her. Anyway – we obviously can’t mention any of that, it’s come from Clancy, not the cops! What they DO want to do is one final appeal on that CCTV footage. The weird guy – or woman, whatever – outside the building still hasn’t been identified, so they want to give it one more go. Clutching at straws I reckon, but hey …’
Cora gulped slightly and tried to disguise it as a cough.
‘You alright love? Anyway – just recap the murder, link into the CCTV pics and then wrap. A minute will be fine. OK?’
Cora cleared her throat. ‘Sure, no problem. Yes, yes that’s perfect. Talk to you later.’
She ended the call and sank back in her seat. That bloody CCTV. The more it was out there, the more likely it was that somebody would recognise Justin, and her ex-boyfriend would officially be prime suspect in a murder. What on earth was she going to do? If only she could talk to him properly before anyone else did, find out what he was doing there. There’d still been nothing else from him on Twitter since their unsatisfactory exchange on Christmas Eve. She clenched her fists in frustration. Where was he? Unless he really did have something to hide? Cora sighed. Hands shaking a little, she reapplied her lip gloss, took a deep breath and got out of her car.
‘Thanks so much for letting me know, it’s very good of you. I really appreciate it, Jean. Well … goodbye then.’
‘Bye, Cora, love.’
Cora pressed the end call button and stared numbly out of her car window at the traffic whizzing past the lay-by she’d hastily pulled into when Justin’s mother had called, with what she’d said was ‘great news’ about her missing son.
Justin, it seemed, was in Spain. It appeared he’d taken Cora’s advice to phone somebody, and had called his parents on Christmas Day, telling them he’d taken a sabbatical from work, needed a break to ‘get his head together’ after splitting with Cora, and would be back soon. He was fine, just wanted a bit of space to decide what he really wanted to do with his life, and nobody was to worry. He’d got himself a Spanish mobile number, but for now he apparently had decided he’d prefer not to give it to anyone, promising to call his parents regularly instead.
This news apparently came as a huge relief to his mum and dad, who’d finally decided they’d better tell his now ex-girlfriend to put her mind at ease too. Somehow though, Cora wasn’t feeling particularly reassured. Spain? Wasn’t that one of the places Ronnie Biggs ran to after the Great Train Robbery? Wasn’t leaving the country an even bigger sign that Justin had been up to no good in the CCTV footage? And should she now, at this point, put loyalty aside and tell somebody her suspicions? If not the police, then at least one of her friends? In despair, Cora sank her head onto the steering wheel, accidentally beeping the horn in the process and making herself jump. She was kidding herself. There was no way she would tell anyone, she knew that. It was so late now, for a start – the police might even arrest her for covering it up for so long, accuse her of attempting to pervert the course of justice or something. And she knew, deep down, that Justin wasn’t a killer. There would be an explanation, and one day soon she would speak to Justin and he would tell her what it was. And in the meantime, the real killer would be caught. He, or she, simply had to be.
‘So forget the CCTV. Nobody’s come forward. Nobody will. Forget it,’ she said out loud. She flicked on her indicator, moved smoothly out into the traffic, and headed for home.
15
Thursday 28th December
‘Alice has been acting like a crazy person, seriously.’
Sam and Cora were huddled in the corner of the newsroom, cradling coffee cups and having a quick catch-up before Cora hit the road again. She’d been called to London in the early hours to stand in for Sue the political reporter, who’d gone sick, and had popped in to the newsroom on her way home to wish Sam and Wendy an early Happy New Year.
‘Honestly, talk about over the top,’ Sam continued. ‘She won’t stop crying and she’s been foul with everyone. I mean, she’s always foul. But really foul. It’s a nightmare.’
Cora screwed up her nose. ‘I don’t get it really. I know Jeanette gave her a job she wasn’t really cut out for, and was incredibly supportive of her for whatever reason. But they never struck me as personally close, particularly. It’s odd, isn’t it?’
‘It is. I think she’s just attention seeking. The papers splashed a picture of her leaving the building looking all weepy and tragic last week and you know what she’s like – loves the publicity …’ Her voice tailed off as Alice wandered past, looking miserable.
‘Oh, hi, Alice!’
Alice glanced at Sam, said nothing, and carried on walking.
‘Cow. See what I mean? I give up with her, I really do. Sodding Alice Lomas. Lo-Intelligence more like.’
‘Or Lo-Cut-Top.’ Sam and Cora both tittered childishly at the silly joke, then Cora glugged the last of her drink and stood up.
‘Right, I’m out of here. Home for a sleep. Please try not to call me again till tomorrow? Love you. Happy New Year.’
Sam gave her a hug. ‘Love you too, babe. Have a good one. Drive carefully.’
As she emerged from the lift into Reception, Cora stopped as a familiar face approached.
‘Ah – DCI Bradberry. Cora Baxter, remember? I’m covering Jeanette’s murder.’
The police officer smiled. ‘Cora, of course. Nice to see you. Hey – you were at Westminster this morning, weren’t you? I’ve been at my desk since six – got into the habit of watching the programme seeing as I’m working on the murder of its editor.’
Cora nodded and shifted her heavy handbag to her other shoulder. ‘Yes, I get around. And always happy to have another viewer.’
‘So – do you have a specialist subject then? Or how does it work?’
Adam looked quizzically at Cora and she thought once again how attractive he was, then gave herself a mental shake. She was off men, remember?
‘No, no – we have a political reporter, who went sick today so I stood in, and a doctor who does the health stories, but the rest of us have to be experts in a different field every day, really. I read all the papers online, check Twitter all the time, and watch the news non-stop – it becomes a bit of an addiction, but it’s the only way to keep on top of everything.’
‘Interesting. I guess you never get bored, then? And crime – do you do much crime?’
‘A fair bit, yes. It’s one of my favourite areas, to be honest. I find it fascinating. So – what about Jeanette? Anything new for me?’
‘Don’t think so – hang on.’ He started flicking through the notepad in his hand, frowning. Cora couldn’t help staring a little. He really was extremely
fit. Muscular, but not too beefy. That sexy cropped blond hair. Dark green eyes, unusual shade …
Adam looked up suddenly from his notes and caught her looking at him. Cora felt herself flushing.
He smiled. ‘To be honest – nothing for you really. We’re floundering a bit on this one. But we hope to have finished going through all the CCTV we’ve got in the next twenty-four hours, so maybe then? Give me a call.’
He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a card.
‘Here – my mobile number. I know what it’s like getting through to the press office – can take for ever. Call me direct and if I know anything we can release to the press, I’ll give it to you first. Only fair – she was your boss, after all.’
Their fingers touched as he handed her the business card and a jolt went through Cora, leaving her stomach fluttering. Crikey. That didn’t happen to her very often. She’d only just split with Justin, she shouldn’t be reacting like this to other men. But if she felt like that when he touched her hand, what would it feel like if those fingers were to touch her in other places?
Flustered, she fumbled in her big bag and pulled out one of her own cards.
‘And here’s mine. Just in case, you know, there’s some big breaking news.’
Adam tucked the card into his pocket. ‘Thanks. Right – have to run. My little boy’s arriving tomorrow for the weekend and we have a LOT to get through at work before then.’
For a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, Cora’s heart sank a little.
‘Oh – you have a little boy? That’s … er … nice.’
‘It is. He lives with his mum in Swindon, but I get him alternate weekends – here he is, look. Proud dad, sorry – always showing him off.’
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