One Last Hit

by Linda Coles

There was no way she was going to allow him to leave her and take the children with him.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  She had a full, though, paradoxically, empty day ahead of her. The front door was finally closed. Duncan and the girls were gone for the day and that meant Sam had a large expanse of time all to herself. The quietness of the house seemed to be more pronounced today for some reason, though in reality, today was no different than any other day. The only thing to have changed was her being up, showered and dressed rather than still bumming about in her nightwear watching TV until lunchtime or beyond.

  She flicked the kettle on to boil and sat down at the kitchen table with her laptop and the basic instructions she’d found out about accessing the dark web. While the kettle came to the boil, a text pinged on her phone, making her jump. It was Anika, following up about meeting for coffee today.

  Coffee at Macs later? Say eleven?

  Sam tapped out her reply, that she’d see her there, and looked at the digital clock on the cooker. It gave her nearly two full hours to do some research before she had to leave. She made herself a hot mug of tea and got to work.

  It was all new territory for Sam. She did not really understand the difference between the dark web and the regular web, but she had learned last night she needed to use a different browser than the one she used normally, to keep her safe and to keep her whereabouts secret. If she was going surfing in an ocean filled with sharks and other sea life she wasn’t accustomed to, she was going to need more protection than her swimsuit.

  “Okay, here goes. Let’s hope I don’t get bitten or catch a virus or something,” she said, and hit the button to download the Tor browser software. Sam watched the download timer tick over until the icon told her it was complete. All that was left was to install it and she was ready to go. A few keystrokes later and she was in.

  To her puzzlement, the search engine page looked like a basic one from back in the 90s. Figuring the page worked exactly the same as the regular web, she put her search term in the box and hit enter – then sat back for a moment and waited. And waited some more. It seemed to her that the ancient-looking page resorted back to dial-up speed. Had she known a little more about what was happening behind the scenes, however, she’d have understood that her hidden ID was bouncing across servers all over the world before finally settling and bringing up what she wanted – that’s what took time.

  At last, a list of hits popped up, and from there, it was simply a case of scrolling through and clicking the links. There was a smorgasbord of places to look, and when she finally came back up for air and stretched, it was almost time to go and meet Anika.

  “Shit, that went quick,” she exclaimed, and closed her laptop down. She carried it upstairs and slid it under her pillow, though she couldn’t have said exactly why. Duncan knew she had a laptop – that wasn’t a problem – but after what she’d been looking at, it felt like the right thing to do.

  Ten minutes later she was pulling into the car park and headed over for coffee with Anika. Her friend beamed at her when she entered the café.

  “Wow, you look great! And happier, too. What happened?” Anika squeezed her friend affectionately and they both sat down. “I’ll get you a coffee. Latte?”

  Sam nodded her approval and Anika went to place their order. While she waited for Anika to return, she glanced around the café and realized she was smiling a little, smiling because she felt better, lighter; a stress had gone.

  Anika noticed it too.

  “Well, I have to say, it’s good to see you looking so well,” she said as she sat back down. “And that blouse looks really cool on you!”

  “Thanks. I feel a whole lot better now. Things are clearer in my mind and I know what I have to do.”

  Did she ever.

  “Well, like I say, I’m pleased for you. And changing the subject, how is Jasmine this morning?”

  Sam was perplexed. “Jasmine?”

  “Yes. You needed cough medicine for her last night, remember?”

  “Yes, sorry. Seems so long ago, and yes, she’s fine. Gone to school as normal.” Big smile.

  Their mugs of coffee arrived and they sat in silence for a moment enjoying their beverages. Friends could do that; space didn’t always have to be filled with conversation. A baby started crying across the café and a young mother attempted to soothe it, rubbing its back over her shoulder. A couple of people turned to watch, their expressions a mixture of ‘How gorgeous’ and ‘Oh dear, must be wind.’

  “Do you remember when yours were that age?” she asked Anika. “Such a beautiful time, when they are totally dependent on you for life. They grow up so quickly, and it’s hard to believe in another ten years, mine will be off to university or jobs. Yours too.”

  “I know,” Anika replied. “Time goes so fast. It’s important to savour as much as we can, eh?”

  The conversation brought Sam back round to her big decision – keeping the girls with her at all costs and ridding her life of the man she no longer wanted in it.

  “I’ve got a question for you, Anika, kind of a trivia question, actually,” Sam said, smiling brightly. “I saw the question online somewhere and it was fun reading the answers so I thought I’d see what yours would be.”

  “Okay, fire away. What is it?”

  “First, think of the dodgiest person you know. Don’t tell me who it is.” She gave her friend a few seconds to think. When Anika signalled she had someone in mind, she carried on. “Now, what would be the dodgiest thing they could get for you? I mean like a stolen TV or something. What do you think they could get if you asked them?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. The person I’m thinking of could probably get you just about anything you wanted. He’s as dodgy as they come.”

  “And how do you know such a dodgy person?”

  “I don’t know him, really. He’s a former work colleague of Steve’s but he sees him down The Feathers sometimes. I’ve met him. He’s really seedy.”

  “So, you mean he could get cocaine or hard porn or a gun, for instance?” Sam added a bit of incredulousness to her question for effect.

  “Definitely. Nothing would surprise me about what he could get his hands on. Why? Are you looking for something kinkier to watch?” Anika gave an exaggerated Benny Hill wink, and both women burst out laughing, so much so that heads turned their way.

  “That’s too funny, Anika! No, no extra kink required. Well, not for me anyway, though I couldn’t speak for Duncan,” she said, and they both laughed out loud again, causing more heads to turn. “I guess we should quiet down, judging by the looks we’re getting.”

  “What does Mr. Seedy look like?” she went on. “Something stereotypical from a movie, skinny and twitchy maybe? Nasty bleached blond hair and dark roots?”

  Anika nodded rapidly through her restrained laughter. “You’ve got it – that’s him! And Mr. Seedy is called Sid, poor sod. Who calls their kid Sidney these days?” and off they both giggled again. When they’d finally stopped laughing, Anika asked, “Fancy another?”

  Sam checked her watch, “No, thanks. I should be going. I’ve a few errands to run myself.” She stood ready to leave. Anika joined her and they left the café together. They exchanged a hug as they reached their cars.

  “Ah, that was fun,” Anika said to her friend. “Glad you’re feeling better.”

  “I am, yes. See you soon, eh?” said Sam, and blew her a best mate kiss as she climbed behind the wheel.

  Sam waved at Anika through her window as she drove past, but her mind was in overdrive, scheming, planning a visit to The Feathers to see Seedy Sid.

  Just in case.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “What are you two love-birds up to tonight? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

  Jack wore his best cheeky grin and Amanda whacked him affectionately with the back of her hand as they left the building heading towards the car park.

  “Oy, careful! Not so hard.” Jack winced, rubbing his arm as though he’d b
een stabbed.

  “Barely touched you, and for your information, we’re finishing decorating the bedroom. In fact, we’re almost done. We seem to have been in turmoil for weeks now and I’m over it already. And it’s only the first room.” Amanda sighed. “And I still have to hold down a full-time job.”

  “That’s why I don’t bother. Nothing wrong with the paper that’s still on my bedroom walls. Well, nothing that a bit of glue on some of the corners wouldn’t fix. But it’s not bad enough to be replaced.”

  Amanda turned to stare at him in disbelief. She’d only been in his bedroom once, and that was while he’d been in hospital and needed a few personal things picked up. If there had been time to decorate while he’d been away she’d have got someone in to bring the room into the twenty-first century. But when it came down to it, it was his place, not hers.

  “I think it feels worse than it is because everything from our room is scattered around the house temporarily, so there’s things in the living room that really don’t belong there. And we’ve still got some of my stuff in boxes looking for a home. Perhaps we should have bought a bigger place between us instead of me moving into Ruth’s.”

  They had reached Amanda’s car and she opened the driver’s door, resting her arm on the top of it while she spoke. She ran her fingers through her short blonde hair in an effort to restyle it before she arrived home.

  “You’ll get there. It will get done. Always does.” Jack tipped his imaginary hat and said goodnight, walked the few steps to his own car and climbed in. Amanda watched him while she stood, then gave him a wave before getting inside her own and turning the engine on. She might be bored of decorating and the mess it created, but at least she’d be going home to someone tonight, and every night hereafter. Jack would be going home to an empty house. The realization sometimes made her sad, but Jack didn’t seem to care much. He was used to it. Janine had been gone some years, but at least he had a part-time housekeeper now in Mrs. Stewart, so his fridge probably had more choice in it than hers and Ruth’s did on any given day.

  She headed out of the car park, destination home. Would Ruth be there yet? It was still quite early for a change, so that was unlikely. Amanda planned a bath if the house was empty. A long, soapy bath, with a glass of red on the side. She could almost taste the full body of a glass of Merlot, feel the warm water soothe her stressed body.

  She was right – when she got home, the house was indeed empty, so Amanda headed straight up to the bathroom and turned the taps on, adding fragrant lavender bubbles as the water cascaded into the tub. For a moment, she watched the white suds form, watched them grow in volume like a meringue, and was almost tempted to scoop some onto her finger and see if it tasted as sweet. Walking to their bedroom, she stripped out of her work suit and grabbed her sweats to put on after her soak. Then, wearing only her underwear, she went back downstairs in search of a bottle of full-bodied red. Ruth had built a wine storage area out of pieces of terracotta drainpipe stacked on top of each other and then glued together; each hole fit a bottle perfectly. It looked simple, stylish and a whole lot hippy at the same time, and had been the talking point of many a dinner guest. Grabbing a stemmed glass and a random bottle, she made her way back to her waiting bubbles, hoping they hadn’t spilled over the top in her absence.

  In a few moments, she lay up to her chin in lavender foam, breathing in the steam, smiling to herself and relaxing as the feeling of wine on an empty stomach took hold. Amanda closed her eyes and enjoyed the peace in the house, the time alone to drift for a while. Her body felt like it was floating, the warmth and the wine making her sleepy, and absentmindedly she wondered if this was what it felt like to someone who took drugs – that feeling of being out of one’s body, away from reality. With her eyes still closed, and floating safely in her bathtub, she tried to imagine never waking up, not resurfacing ever again and drifting off to another world on a chemical-induced pleasure craft. How sad it would be for those left behind to find only the soulless shell of their loved one’s body floating in a cold bath.

  The water was cooling now, bringing her back to the real world. She lay still for a moment longer, savouring the last whiffs of lavender. She hadn’t heard the door close downstairs, hadn’t heard feet on the stairs, hadn’t heard someone enter the room.

  “Hello, darling.”

  Amanda screamed and shot up from the depths of the water, bubbles and wine sloshing over the side as she opened her eyes and tried to focus.

  Ruth burst out laughing at the mess and her wife’s extreme reaction to her intrusion.

  “Having fun in there, were you?”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Amanda sat back and stretched like a cat, then groaned deeply and yawned. She caught Raj’s eye as she returned to her normal posture and blushed.

  “Late night?” he enquired, lifting an eyebrow. Everyone in the station knew she had recently got married and while they hadn’t said much to her face, she was aware of sniggers and crude jokes behind her back. It no longer bothered her, and she let them have their fun at her expense knowing it would die down soon enough. Her skin was the required thickness to work in the Metropolitan Police and not much bothered her anymore.

  “Nothing exciting to report. We’re just finishing up decorating. We’ve done one room and I don’t want to do any more.”

  “Can’t you get someone in and do it?”

  “We said we’d have a go ourselves. We thought it would be fun. Truth is, it’s hard graft and both our day jobs are hectic. It’s not like I can hide in the back room and do some filing for a rest.”

  “You could do some of my paperwork if you want.” He grinned at her cheekily.

  She knew he was joking; she had more than enough of her own, judging by the pile of folders balancing on her own desk. “I’ll pass, thanks. I need to do a bit more research.”

  “Drugs?”

  “Yep, fascinating stuff, actually. I mean, we all know about cocaine and heroin and the synthetics, but prescription drugs are getting to be more and more of a problem every day, and they’re so easy to come by.”

  Raj came closer to her desk, obviously interested in what she was talking about. “My brother had a car accident a while back,” he said. “Broke his leg, smashed a rib or two, and they gave him some pretty strong painkillers to help him through. I can’t remember what they were now, but they did the trick. Anyway, they used to make him happy, happier than normal, and I wondered then if he was getting hooked on them, if he liked the feeling they gave him.”

  “Is he still taking them, do you know?”

  “I’ve often wondered, and officially he’s not, but sometimes when we’re out having a pint or at a match, he seems different – euphoric and upbeat, but to another level. I guess he could be taking them recreationally, but maybe not all the time.”

  “Have you asked him?”

  “No. I think I’m afraid of the answer, if he’d even tell his big brother the detective. And what if he did say yes? What would I do or say then?”

  “Hmm. I know what you mean, but he is your brother and if he is addicted or taking them recreationally, he may need help. He can’t live like that forever. He’s risking getting ill, or worse, as you know.”

  They lowered their voices as several more of their colleagues drifted into the room. They were deep in their own conversations and not paying Amanda and Raj any attention, but still, Amanda was aware of flapping ears.

  “Look, best wrap this up, but it’s worth a heart-to-heart with him, isn’t it? Voice your concern as his brother and see what he says. Just don’t go in accusingly and piss him off. Be the support he may be looking for.”

  They both looked up as their boss, DI Dopey Dupin, entered the room and headed their way.

  “Morning sir,” they said almost at the same time. Raj started to move away, figuring it was Amanda he was after.

  “Yes, morning,” Dupin said, though he was obviously distracted. He turned his full attention to Amanda.
<
br />   “I hear on the bongo drums you’ve been making enquiries at Manchester about Wilfred Day. What’s that all about?” Dopey had a habit of looking stressed even when he probably wasn’t, but the twitch in his left eye said he was wound up about something. It was one of his ‘tells.’ He’d never make a decent poker player.

  “His name came up rather tenuously connected to a prescription drug thing I’m looking into.”

  “And? Is that it?”

  “Yes, sir, that’s about it. DS Black filled me in on what he knew of him, which was not much more than a slippery modern mob wannabe who has impeccable manners and dresses smartly. May I ask what’s up, sir?”

  “Just keep me posted, that’s all,” he said, and left as quickly as he’d entered.

  Amanda watched him go. He’d never been the most talkative person in the station and was not an easy person to warm to, but he was her boss and she respected that. To many, it was still a quandary how he’d ever made the DI promotion; some speculated he must have intel on someone higher up, but others couldn’t see him being smart enough to blackmail his way. It was kind of sad he lacked the respect of the team he led, she thought, not for the first time.

  She sat back down at her desk and looked at the web page she’d been reading about opioid addiction in other countries. The US had a massive problem with pharmacy break-ins, prescription books nicked and youngsters getting into the game as dealers to fulfil demand. Many were nicking their parents’ pills, swapping them out for something that looked the same and then selling on the potent stuff at a profit. Prescription pills were deemed a little more upmarket than typical street drugs, and housewives, sports stars and everybody in between was regularly looking for their endorphin fix or dopamine surge. And like any addiction, the more a person consumed, the bigger the craving. While it wasn’t quite as bad in little old Blighty, opioids were already on the street and readily available.