by Jay Nadal
Pointing to her mouth whilst she munched food caused them both to smile and Cara to choke. This made them laugh even more. She finally composed herself again. “This is seriously good, my compliments to the chef,” she said repeatedly pointing to her plate. “I could get used to this.”
“So what’s your favourite dish?” he asked.
She paused for a moment allowing her eyes to look up towards the ceiling in reflection, “I’ve not really got a favourite to be honest, Curries, Tex-Mex, Chinese, pub grub...”
“So pretty much anything,” he mused.
“Yup, that’s me.”
Scott treated them to some lemon sorbet before he cleared the table away. It had given Cara an opportunity to wander around his dining room looking at the various paintings and pictures that he had pinned to the walls. She paused for a moment and was staring at some in particular when Scott walked in.
Scott stopped in doorway, unsure what to say.
Cara hesitated, “I’m sorry, I wasn’t meaning to pry, these are some lovely pictures of your wife and daughter.”
He joined her side. He stared fondly at them. “Yes, it’s Tina and Becky.” his voice cracking a little.
“You must miss them a lot, Becky is a spitting image of a mum.”
Scott slowly shook his head, his eyes a little damp. “I do every day. I guess it’s why this case is getting to me. When you’ve been a dad it changes you. You seem to take on a whole new role of wanting to protect children, especially your own. It can be a lonely place when you lose those around you. It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with it, and I still blame myself.”
Cara rubbed his arm for reassurance. Her own anguish threatening to escape from the box she’d tightly packed away deep in the recesses of her mind. He didn’t have much to say after that, other than to suggest coffee to which she willingly agreed. She followed him into the kitchen. As he waited for the kettle to boil Cara stood beside him and placed one hand on his arm again.
“Scott, I want you to know that I’m here for you. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but I care for you, I’m your friend and more if you’ll let me be?” She meant most of it, but she knew what it was like losing a child. Her own secret kept hidden from prying eyes. She’d tried every day to supress the sorrow, regret and guilt she felt about losing her own child. Cara spent many months coming to terms with the decision, the right decision, to not bring a child into the world with that bastard.
Scott sensed that Cara was lost deep in thought, a veil of sadness blanketing her face. “Hey you ok?” he asked rubbing her shoulder.
“Yes I’m fine, I once wanted to have a family too, but it didn’t work out...” she reflected.
Scott turned and looked towards Cara who was leaning against the kitchen work surface. Her dark brown eyes reaching out to him, they offered him sensitivity, compassion and desire. “I know you care, and I can’t thank you enough.”
“I’m not here to hurt you Scott; I want to be here for you if you’re willing to let me in.”
Scott had sensed that their bodies were moving closer together, not deliberately, more an unconscious force drawing them towards one another. He moved to stand in front of her, their bodies just a few inches apart. They both felt that strong pull of magnetic attraction, that intangible bond that happens between two people when they are pulled in by a force neither could explain. It was energetic. It was raw. It was sexual. But it was more than that … a desire to know each other intimately. Really know each other. In the silent space they shared, he could hear her breath, her eyes remaining firmly fixed to his. They could sense the vibration of their pull.
“I like you Cara … I really like you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” she said in a soft tone.
He leaned in and gave her gave a delicate soft kiss on the cheek, wrapping his arms around her waist. She responded by moving her body even closer and turning her lips to meet his. Seconds later they locked in a deep, passionate kiss, his tongue searching out hers. They were still hungry, but for each other this time, as she placed her hands behind his head pulling his mouth closer to her, willing him to explore her further.
No further words were said between them. Scott had finally let down his guard, perhaps now was the time for him to accept and move on. They both had one thing on their mind as Scott took her by the hand and led her upstairs.
Chapter 15
A buzzing close to his right ear.
His senses tried to comprehend what had woken him from his deep, blissful sleep. Initially he thought it was a mosquito buzzing close by ready to swoop in, hungry for some human blood. He lazily tried to bat it off with his hand. Despite his attempts to silence the noise, the buzzing continued. He opened one eye to adjust to the brightness flooding into the room. It was only then that he realised it was his phone alerting him to a text message.
He stared at the digital screen, his eyes fighting to focus through the tiny slits he had allowed himself to have. Opening the message, his senses sprung into action as he took in every word, causing his eyes to widen. It was a text message from Raj.
Press appeal for Christine Newland had drawn a positive sighting. A computer shop owner recalls her coming in to drop off a laptop. The computer shop had found messages of an inappropriate nature. Christine was informed. She came in and collected the laptop immediately.
Scott fired back a message as quickly as his fingers would allow him. He lay on his back thinking about the information he’d read on his phone. It was then that he realised what had happened the night before. He turned over to see Cara, still fast asleep.
Her long brown hair framed her face, her beautiful face. He reflected on the night they’d shared. Their steamy, passionate encounter. He marvelled at the sensuality she exuded, her lack of inhibition and her insatiable appetite. He had enjoyed every moment of slowly undressing her. When he finally pressed his firm body against her soft skin, it felt like the Fourth of July inside him, every cell of his body exploding.
The room felt stuffy now. A mix of hot sex, a humid night and the smell of sex filled the room. A thin bedsheet partially covered Cara, one large ample breast exposed. Scott bent forward and kissed it. Her skin felt soft, just as he remembered it from last night.
He left a note on his pillow telling her he’d been called out early on police business and that he would speak to her later. He signed off with a suggestion to help herself to a shower and breakfast, followed by two kisses.
***
Scott found the computer shop tucked away in Bath Street close to the station. A small white fronted shop squashed between a café and a second hand furniture shop that had a variety of tables, chairs, cupboards and wooden doors outside. The old luggage trunks grabbed Scott’s interest in particular. They looked out of place sitting on the pavement outside the shop. He thought they would have been better suited in the lounge of a large period style house.
The shop itself was long and narrow; Scott estimated it to be no wider than eight feet from wall-to-wall. The sign above the door said Ctrl R for Repair, which made Scott smile. Nice name.
As he entered, he was hit with an oppressive heat. It was warming up outside, but the addition of several laptops and computers all running and kicking out heat caused Scott to loosen his tie. A tall man of Afro-Caribbean extraction, with thick black-rimmed glasses, sporting a large stomach that hung over the front of his jeans, was busily peering inside the carcass of a PC tower. He prodded the innards with an exceptionally long screwdriver.
“Jori Grant?” Scott shouted out, causing the man to jump.
He peered up looking over the top rim of his glasses, “Yes, that’s me, can I help you?”
Scott showed him his warrant card, “I’m Detective Scott Baker from Brighton CID, I understand you spoke to my colleagues about Christine Newland.”
The man nodded in response as he rose from his seat to meet Scott at the counter. “Yes I did. Not sure what else I can tell you?”
Jori Grant adjusted his glasses, pushing then up towards the bridge of his nose. “Yes, she dropped off a laptop on the seventh, and later that morning, I got round to inspecting it. She said it was her daughter’s laptop and that she’d complained about it crashing all the time. She was getting a blue screen.”
Scott wasn’t sure what a blue screen was. He’d never been that technically minded, but guessed it wasn’t normal if it needed to be taken in.
“I went through it, but noticed in her browsing history lots of chat history from a chat room that her daughter must have been on. And to be honest it wasn’t a pleasant conversation. It was quite explicit with whoever she was chatting with.” Jori shifted uncomfortably, not entirely happy about what he found. “Then stored in the downloads folder are quite a few pictures of a bloke’s cock. In a pictures folder there is a few pictures of a young girl who’s taken selfies … You know that type of stuff,” he said.
Scott shook his head, “No, I don’t, what do you mean?”
Jori Grant hesitated for a moment, “Um ... well, they were naked topless shots she’d taken in the mirror.”
“So what happened next?”
“Well the first thing I do whenever I get a piece of hardware that’s got something of a sexual nature on it is to contact the person who bought in. I contacted Christine Newland within a few hours of her dropping off. She seemed horrified. She said that she’d be back to pick it up and that she would deal with it.”
“And did she come in?”
“Yes. She came in about 1.30 p.m. the same day. She looked concerned, and that was before I showed her the content. After I went through it with her, the colour drained from her face, she grabbed the laptop and left in quite a hurry. Mrs Newland said she’d get back to me. Next thing I know, I see her picture in the Argus that she’d been murdered. That’s when I called in.”
Scott could gauge that the man seemed concerned and shocked by the worry lines on his forehead that a customer of his had been murdered. “Okay, thank you, Mr Grant, you’ve been helpful. I’ll arrange for one my officers to pop down later to get a proper witness statement recorded.”
“Sure, anything. It’s a tragedy,” he said shaking his head slowly and turning to return to work on the PC tower.
As Scott walked back to the car, he called Abby. The moment she picked up, he filled her in on what he’d discovered about the laptop and Christine Newland.
His next stop would be the Newlands.
***
Alan and Lucy Newland were at home as Scott expected. They were no doubt still reeling from the death of Christine. As he pulled up outside, there was still a steady stream of visitors coming and going from the house, no doubt paying their respects and rallying around. He was about to ring the doorbell when the door opened and a middle-aged woman stepped out of the house, tissue in hand, dabbing her eyes and sniffing. Scott moves to one side to let her pass before he entered.
Alan and Lucy were sitting in the lounge; Alan had a protective arm around his daughter, who was softly sobbing into his chest. He looked up to see Scott entering the room, his eyes widening, no doubt hopeful for some news … and answers.
Alan looked a broken man. His stubble from the other night was now resembling the beginnings of a beard. His eyes looked tired and sore, his face had aged considerably; worry, sadness and confusion etched all over it. Lucy was curled up into her dad’s chest, her hands over her mouth as she gently sobbed, her eyes pinched tight, allowing tears to burst through the corners and down her cheeks.
“Have you got any news,” Alan Newland asked, staring hopefully into Scott’s eyes. He was desperate for answers, any answers, anything that would help him to explain why Christine had been killed.
“Our investigation is still ongoing, and I’m afraid it’s still early days. We’ve had a fairly good response to our press appeal, which is why I’m here today.”
Alan Newland paid more attention, honing in on what Scott was saying.
“We have a bit of a delicate situation here, and unfortunately there’s never a good time to talk about this. Following the press appeal, we have a sighting of your wife on the day she disappeared. She apparently took in Lucy’s laptop because I understand it was crashing all the time, is that correct?”
Alan looked to his daughter Lucy, and through the tears, she nodded slowly.
Scott cleared his throat, “When the laptop was examined, there was some inappropriate content on there. Christine was informed about it. She went back in and collected the laptop the very same day around 1:30 p.m. on the day that she went missing.”
Alan looked perplexed and confused. “Inappropriate content?”
Scott shifted his attention between Alan and Lucy, and noticed that Lucy was now staring at him, her eyes wide open, her pupils dilated with nerves or fear.
“There were images of a man’s genitals in the downloads folder and images of a topless girl too. There was also a detailed chat history between whoever was using the laptop and another person.” Focusing his attention on Lucy, “I believe this is your laptop, Lucy, would you know anything about this?”
Alan turned to look at his daughter, confusion contorting his face, “Lucy?”
Lucy had the look of a scared little girl, unable to explain, paralysed by fear. Her eyes darted between her father and Scott, not knowing who to address, and what to say.
“Lucy, were you having an online chat conversation with someone of the opposite sex? Were photos exchanged between you?” Scott asked gently, leaning his elbows on his knees, and cupping his hands together.
It was hard to tell whether Lucy was squirming with guilt or embarrassment. The fact that it was being discussed in front of her father made the conversation even more uncomfortable. Her legs were pulled into her chest, her hands were tightly interlocked around her shins as she nervously bit on her bottom lip. She looked away, unable to look at her father, and then nodded once.
“Lucy, what was his name?”
A long pause followed, the silence in the room causing time to stand still. While still staring at an empty corner of the room, she slowly mouthed the word, “Johnny.”
“Lucy, listen carefully, what were the last thing you discussed?”
Hesitantly, and knowing she was about to upset her father, she replied, “We arranged to meet at Hove Park that evening that mum went missing.”
Lucy sobbed loudly as she broke down. “It’s my fault, my fault she died, isn’t it?” she said staring at Scott. Alan’s hand had slowly fallen loose from the protective embrace he’d been offering her, numbed by what he was hearing.
“Lucy, I need you to get the laptop for me. We need to examine it. Could you please get it for me now?”
Lucy slowly stretched her legs and stood up, glancing round to her dad, mouthing the words, “I’m so sorry.”
“Do you think this thing on the computer and my wife’s death are connected?”
“Unfortunately I’m not at liberty to speculate. We need to examine the laptop first to look for any evidence or clues that might help us to understand the last few hours of your wife’s life. As soon as I know more, I will let you know.”
Scott was certain the two were connected, and now he had a name, too: Johnny.
Chapter 16
Back at the station, Scott made arrangements for Lucy’s laptop to be taken to the high-tech unit for analysis as a priority case. He’d stressed to the forensic computer examiner the urgency of being able to extract vital evidence that could determine the potential killer in an ongoing investigation. He instructed the examiner to cross-reference data with a Dell laptop seized from Johnny Wright.
The examiner was the less than cooperative citing a huge backlog in examining mobile phones and computers. He’d ended the call making no promises, much to Scott�
��s frustration. A quick chat with DCI Harvey would no doubt help to push things along, he thought.
He could sense it. Today would be a busy but crucial day. Scott grabbed Abby and Mike before making his way towards the Unicorn pub. He filled them in on his visit to the computer shop this morning, and the subsequent discovery of an online discussion between Lucy and someone who went by the name of Johnny.
***
As the team pulled up on the corner outside the Unicorn, they were met by two uniformed officers who were waiting outside, sipping on coffee from styrene white cups. The pub was closed; opening time was 12 o’clock, which gave Scott and his team an ideal opportunity to search the establishment.
Scott banged firmly on the door several times with a clenched fist. He waited a few moments, exchanging glances with the other officers. Not wishing to lose his man, Scott instructed one uniformed officer to check the side and back, just to make sure that no one was making a break for it. Scott banged again several times, but this time harder, causing the door to rattle. From somewhere within the pub, someone was shouting out, “I’m coming, what’s the fucking hurry!”
A series of familiar clunks indicated that several bolts were being unlocked before the door finally opened. Mark Renshaw stood there rubbing his eyes, clearly woken up by the disturbance, his eyes crusty and narrow as the bright sunlight caught him off guard. Seeing the sight of four police officers standing on his doorstep agitated Renshaw as his eyes darted from one officer to another. “What do you want now?” he groaned, his throat dry and parched.
“Good morning, Mr Renshaw,” Scott said with a sarcastic smile, “We would like to come in and have a chat, if that’s okay.”
“Listen, I don’t know what this is about, but I’ve told you everything I fucking know, I’m a busy man. The pub’s opening shortly,” he said through gritted teeth. He was frustrated and annoyed about this intrusion, barely able to restrain his anger.