by Mel Sherratt
Sarah was in the living room watching the evening news when she went in to say goodbye.
‘What time will Brad be here?’ Jess asked as she wrapped her scarf around her neck.
‘He’ll be about an hour,’ said Sarah.
‘So you’ll be all loved up. Glad I’m going out.’
‘Pot. Kettle. I take it you’re going to see Cayden?’
‘Yes, he’s going to be later than planned now so I’m meeting him over by Shop&Save and then going back to his house.’ Jess flicked her hair back from her face.
‘Why don’t you go straight there? It’s still raining.’
‘I’m not sure.’ Jess shrugged.
‘Well, just be careful when you do get together.’ Sarah looked at her knowingly.
‘You sound like Mum! I’m not about to get pregnant and be tied down with a kid for the rest of my life.’
‘You went to the clinic then?’
Jess nodded, blushing a little.
‘Good, at least you have protection now. And if it is Cayden that you love, then see he treats you well. You know you can say no whenever you like. He shouldn’t force you to do anything.’
‘He doesn’t.’ Jess shook her head. ‘And he won’t, because if he does, he’ll get a swift kick in the balls and never come near me again.’
Sarah laughed. ‘I wish I had your attitude, little sis.’ She stood up and gave her an impromptu hug. ‘You’re so sassy, even if you are a spoilt brat and try my patience all the time.’
Jess hugged her sister back. They were closer than either of them chose to admit.
‘Be home before Mum is due in, won’t you?’ Sarah added as Jess left the room.
‘Yep.’ Jess nipped in the kitchen and took a chocolate bar from the shelf in the fridge. ‘Mum gave me some money. I might get some chips later,’ she shouted through.
‘You’ve just had something to eat!’
‘I’m a growing girl!’
Jess took her jacket from the peg where her mum had put it and rushed out of the house. She pulled her beanie hat out of the pocket, pushed it on and put her hood up against the rain. It took her a few minutes to walk to the main road and by this time her jacket was soaked. She would kill Cayden when she saw him. It had taken her ages to do her hair and it was going to be a frizz bomb with the wind lashing the rain under her hood, soaking her hat too. Why couldn’t she have just gone to his house? It was much closer, and now she’d have to walk further to get there as well.
On the high street, the lights of the supermarket just ahead, she passed Caffè Nero, wondering if she could get Cayden to buy her something nice to take with them. She loved their chocolate muffins.
Blocking her way further up on the pavement was a group of boys she knew from school.
‘Wahey, Jess,’ shouted one above the level of the wind as she approached them. ‘Whassup?’
‘Nothing.’ She pushed past him, much to the amusement of the others.
‘Playing hard to get, I see?’ he shouted back at her. ‘You’ll be mine one day, Jess Mountford, just you wait and see.’ He put his hand on his crotch and licked his top lip provocatively.
‘In your dreams.’ Jess turned to him and, walking backwards, flicked him the finger before continuing on her way. She could hear them laughing and it made her sad. If she had been with Katie, they would be laughing now too. She hoped Katie would be found not guilty at the end of the trial so she could come home again. Even though someone had died, Jess couldn’t believe what had happened, how wrong everything had gone that night.
The past six months had been the longest of her life since Katie had been locked up. More to the point, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t been locked up with her. If she hadn’t been laid down with a bad cold, she would have been out that night with her. So too would Cayden. She shuddered involuntarily, thinking again how lucky she was.
She and Katie had been best friends since they were twelve, when Katie and her family had moved into The Cavendales. Katie lived in Orchard Way, which, back then, was the next cul-de-sac to their house. They’d been inseparable, and when Katie had been charged under the law of joint enterprise because there wasn’t sufficient evidence to say whether or not she had been involved in the murder of Deanna Barker, she’d been placed in a secure unit and taken away straight after the charge. To Jess, it was like losing a sister. Katie was her rock, her soulmate, and it had taken ages to adjust to her not being around. She hoped she was acquitted at the trial. She knew that Katie was innocent.
She pressed on down the street, past the entrance to the supermarket, where another group of kids were hanging around, trying to escape the rain, no doubt, rather than go home.
Jess had lived in Stockleigh all her life, and even though she was lucky enough to live on the edge of a nice area, she and her friends always hung around on the Mitchell Estate. Some properties were owned, some rented out by private landlords, but the majority were owned by Mitchell Housing Association. The high school they all attended was halfway between there and where she lived. She couldn’t wait to leave next year.
She was saving the money she earned on the sly so she could move somewhere bigger like London, Birmingham or Manchester – somewhere with a bit more life. Jess loved going shopping in Manchester. She couldn’t wait until she was old enough to stay out overnight and try out all the pubs and clubs. Apart from the youth club, which she would never be seen dead in, there wasn’t much else to do around their area, which is why she and Cayden mostly met their friends on the Mitchell Estate and made some noise. It was a great way to let off steam.
At the corner of the building she turned and walked across the car park, holding on to her hood as the wind nearly took her off her feet. Thank God she and Cayden would be indoors again soon.
She took out her phone as she walked to call Cayden, to tell him she was there. She was already ten minutes late and he was nowhere around. There was no reply and, frowning, she sent a message urging him to hurry up.
The rain began to come down heavier and she cursed, running under the shelter that housed the shopping trolleys. Huddled in there, she heard someone shout. She turned to see a man jogging towards her.
‘Excuse me,’ he said, trying to catch his breath as he drew level. ‘You haven’t seen a little white dog, have you?’
Jess shook her head. ‘No, sorry.’
‘He’s only tiny. I’m afraid he might be run over if I don’t find him. He’s a terrier. Are you sure you didn’t see him?’
‘Sorry.’
‘My little girl will be heartbroken if I’ve lost him. Jackson!’ he shouted and walked past her. ‘Jackson!’
She watched for a few moments as he continued to shout the dog’s name, looking in-between the parked cars, bending down on his knees to see if he could spot him. She and Sarah had never been able to have a dog, no matter how much they had protested. She hoped he found it soon.
She checked the time on the screen of her phone. Where was Cayden?
The man was back.
‘No sign of him?’ she asked, realising how stupid she sounded as soon as she had said it.
The man shook his head, raised his hands to his side and then down again. ‘I’ll keep looking for a while. He can’t be far.’
‘What was his name?’ she asked, coming out of the shelter.
‘Jackson. I saw him last down here.’ He pointed and walked on ahead.
Jess followed behind him, trying to focus through the rain. ‘Are you sure your dog would have gone this way?’ she asked, glancing around.
‘He’s only a small thing, he could be anywhere.’
‘Have you got any chocolate or anything? Maybe—’
As they passed a small white van, he lurched at her, punching her full in the face.
Jess staggered back with the force, hot pain pulsing through her, but she managed to stay on her feet. She put a hand to her mouth, feeling liquid running between her fingers and a pain that almost took her breath away.
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‘My nose – it’s bleeding!’ she cried. Disoriented and confused, before she knew it he had grabbed her around the neck and pulled her backwards. She screamed, hoping it would carry above the noise of the wind, and tried to pull his arm away. But he covered her mouth.
He dragged her to the van. As she fought to get his hand from her mouth so she could shout again, he opened the door and shoved her inside. She lunged at him as he tried to close the door. He pushed her back inside, but she came at him again. This time he punched her to the side of her head and she fell to the floor of the van in a daze.
Before she could do anything else, he had wrapped a woollen scarf tightly around her mouth and done the same with duct tape around her wrists and ankles.
She heard a door slam and the engine start. There was only a tiny window and she couldn’t see who he was. Shock setting in, she burst into tears. She didn’t know where she was going, and she didn’t know who had taken her.
The van began to move. It left the car park seconds later.
Chapter Five
The city of Stockleigh, based in the West Midlands, had a population of just short of 200,000 residents. Schooling was slightly above the national average, the level of unemployment below. Many of its residents owned their own homes, family and friends living within a few miles of each other. It had a middle-class feel about it, but the majority of its residents would argue they were the new race of middle-working class.
With more of a town than a city feel about it, it still managed to be home to a university with a good reputation, two colleges of further education and a business-training centre. Only ten years ago, the city council had erected a new, larger shopping centre, where most high street stores opened branches, incorporating a large eating area and eight-screen cinema. There were a few pockets of deprivation, such as the Mitchell Estate in the south and the Hopwood Estate not too far from the centre of the city, but for the most part it was a good place to live.
At thirty-nine, Eden had worked at Stockleigh Police Station since leaving university almost eighteen years ago. Joining as a police constable, she’d completed years on the beat before taking exams and training on the job to be a detective constable, before earning a place in the domestic violence unit, which, although harrowing at times, she had found tremendously rewarding.
As part of a new government initiative, Safe Streets, she had been put forward for a newly restructured post as detective sergeant running the Community Intelligence Team. It was a secondment for twelve months so she’d be able to return to her previous position if the initiative wasn’t successful or, as was often the way with such things, lost its funding despite its success.
Eden had been thrilled to be asked. It seemed her skills in working with people to worm out information had been noted. Over the past few years, she’d managed to help solve a few crimes that the higher ranking and longer serving detectives hadn’t been able to get to the root of. Many times, officers asked her to get involved in coercing people into doing things they were scared to do for fear of the repercussions, like giving evidence to lock away someone who would undoubtedly commit the same crime again if left on the streets.
When she’d been told about the position, she had jumped at the chance. With a sixteen-year-old daughter, Casey, and an estranged husband, Danny, long gone, the extra pay from a promotion was a welcome relief. It meant learning how to manage staff, but she didn’t mind that because she got to do what she loved, which was getting down and dirty to wheedle out any necessary information.
Their new team had only been working together for four weeks, so they were still finding their feet. Along with Amy there was another detective constable, Jordan Ashcroft. They were all supported by Detective Inspector Sean Whittaker, who had been given the role to manage them alongside the murder investigation team.
Their nickname had quickly become ‘the sticking plaster team’ but it was an affable joke that she didn’t mind. And if it helped to solve a crime, then, well, the DI was always up for a curry across the road at the Red Onion or a pint down the way at the White Lion.
She hadn’t even had to leave the building, just locate to the opposite corner of the room. She’d stayed close to CID and her colleagues in the domestic violence unit, which would ensure she was still in the thick of things. Information passing and gathering was crucial in their line of work. Their offices were on a large open-plan floor, which they shared with too many filing cabinets and overflowing waste paper bins.
‘What are you lucky pair up to tonight?’ Eden asked Jordan and Amy, who were sitting at their desks opposite.
‘I’m going out for a pint or two,’ said Jordan, clicking a few buttons on his keyboard before looking up. ‘If I don’t pick up a bird, I’ll grab a curry and cry into my tikka masala.’
‘As if you’d ever be short of a woman,’ Eden teased, even though she knew he wouldn’t be looking for anyone special. Jordan was twenty-nine and had been working in their station for two years after starting his career in Manchester. She knew him well enough to know that, although he had a cheeky-boy personality, he wasn’t the type to go looking for one-night conquests. In any case, he still seemed to be broken-hearted from the recent break-up of his three-year relationship with his first love and wasn’t looking for a woman to take her place.
He was far too suave to be a copper really. A male model would have been more apt, with the six-pack he kept well hidden, his chiselled features, brown eyes, skin and hair. To the men, he was one of the lads, and to the women, he was eye candy. Both had their advantages and disadvantages, but Eden was more thankful for his placid nature. His ability to keep calm during many an incident that she knew she might have struggled with was fresh and it also put people at ease.
Jordan was keen and fun to be around too, and Amy adored him in a sisterly way, teasing him constantly about his dreamy eyes getting him results, which was true. Eden glanced over to see her throwing Jordan a huge smile.
‘How about you, Amy?’ Eden leaned across to pinch a Jaffa Cake from the box her colleague was devouring. ‘Have you got anything planned, other than murdering your future mother-in-law?’
‘Ha ha.’ Amy gave her a sarcastic smile. ‘I’m coming in to catch up on some paperwork.’ She pointed to a tray. ‘Got tons of it.’
‘Well, no matter what, we’d better get prepared for the fireworks when Deanna Barker’s trial begins on Monday. We have to be prepared for things to escalate until it’s over.’ Eden leaned forward on her elbows and rested her chin in the crook of her hands, brown eyes serious now. ‘And we have to be prepared for things to escalate after the trial too – whichever way things go.’
Chapter Six
Cayden tried to open his eyes. One stayed shut; the other felt watery. One hand hurt so badly he couldn’t move it. He pressed the tentative and shaky fingertips of the other to his face, wincing at their touch.
He lay there for a few seconds while he tried to breathe, before he eventually pulled himself to sitting, resting his back on the fence. His head wouldn’t stop spinning, his vision blurry.
The last thing he could remember was curling up into a ball as the man came at him. He wondered if it was a random attack or if it had been planned. He certainly hadn’t provoked the man, so there was no need for him to just act out like that.
Was this part of the plan that he hadn’t been told about?
After a minute, he turned and pushed himself to his feet. Swaying for a few seconds, he reached into his pocket for his phone, and that’s when it all came rushing back. He remembered the hit that had knocked his legs from under him, the force of the wood when it came crashing down and his inability to find time to put up any resistance. Had his attacker spoken? No, he couldn’t remember anything else.
He walked along the path, holding on to the fencing to stay upright. He’d have to go back home, call his parents from there. The cut-through was darker in the middle where he was but there was a street light ahead. He began to take slow
steps, stumbling to one knee on more than one occasion. His breath was coming in rasps, his nose unable to take in air.
Was his nose broken? He put a hand to it and groaned as fresh pain erupted inside his head.
Even if he couldn’t get home, he could get to the supermarket. Someone would ring his parents. As he inched forward, he spotted something glistening on the path. It was his phone. He stooped, careful not to topple. He turned it over. The screen was intact. He should be able to make a call with one hand.
He pressed Mum, but after a few rings it went to voicemail. Crying out as pain shot through his head again, he held on to the railing and threw up.
Step by step he walked slowly along the path, each metre taking him nearer to safety. Through his quickly swelling eye he could see it was getting lighter, but he had to stop.
He tried to think what had happened back there. Who would attack him so viciously? He couldn’t recall much about his attacker now, but he was hoping he didn’t know him. If it was someone he knew, he would sure as hell be after getting him back. Unless this had something to do with Travis double-crossing him. He’d thought he seemed a little jumpier than usual when he’d met him.
He set off again a minute later, clutching his stomach. If he could just make it to the supermarket, someone would help him.
He made it to the end of the path and into the street. The entrance to the shop was just above him. He needed to activate the automatic doors.
A few more steps and he fell to his knees before lying down on his back. The last thing he remembered before he blacked out again was people rushing over to him.