by Diane Saxon
She flung herself back in her seat, took a studied sip of her straight up, black coffee. ‘I always drink it black in the station, otherwise that shit might kill you, but I wouldn’t have minded a cappuccino.’
‘Boring.’
She smiled, caught the scent of his gingerbread latte and almost admitted how good it smelt, that had she been in the coffee shop, she may well have tried it.
‘So, what’s happening?’ he asked.
‘I caught a rape.’
‘I got that.’
‘Yeah, she’s gone for tests, I’m just getting together scenes of crime and they’ll be ready just as soon as I’ve had this coffee.’
He took a deep pull of his drink, pleasure wreathing his face as his serious eyes met hers. ‘You don’t need me to keep tabs on you. You’re going to be tied up with this for the next few hours, and I need to trust you to get yourself off home straight after without any further connection to your sister’s case. Can I do that?’
A ripple of disappointment that he was leaving her made her hesitate before she took a sip of her coffee to disguise how she felt about not having him around. She’d come to feel comfortable with him, supported. She raised her cup to him. ‘Promise.’
His gaze bored into hers as though he wanted to assess how far he could trust her. ‘Good. I have things I need to see to for a court case.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m keeping you from your work. You must be swamped.’
‘I volunteered, so don’t apologise. It’s interesting to say the least, but yes, I have to touch base and make sure I’ve got all the files I need from Birmingham Crown Court.’
Expecting him to be impatient to get off, Jenna held still, but he made no move to get up, instead he reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a small plastic bag filled with miniature muffins. He tugged it open, took one out and slid the bag over the desk to her, pushing the entire mini-muffin into his mouth and grinning around it.
She’d thought he was a strait-laced person. It just went to show; you could never judge a book by its Armani suit.
20
Sunday 28 October, 17:50 hrs
There were times when an accusation rang false, when everything about a victim’s statement grated on the nerves and pushed doubt into the mind. Not every woman told the truth, not every man accused was guilty. But the mean-eyed man who swung open the door and leaned with challenging insolence against the frame vibrated guilt and anger.
Jenna had known before she met him, absorbed the man’s character and attitude from his victim. The woman he’d taken to lunch twice and dinner once, then demanded payback in the tight confines of the front seat of his car, which he’d driven down a dark lane before he cut the engine and twisted a hank of the woman’s hair around his fist.
She let the ball of nausea curdle in her stomach while she kept her face neutral, her eyes flat and uncompromising.
‘Stuart Roddick?’ At his nod, she held out her warrant card for his inspection. ‘I’m DS Jenna Morgan. I’m here to arrest you for the rape…’ The flash of his hand knocked her ID from her fingers to send it in a rapid spiral to the ground.
If she hadn’t been so tired, she knew, her reaction would have been different. She would never, she thought to herself later, have bent down to retrieve her ID. She should have cuffed him first, handed him over to the others behind her before she made another move. She hadn’t misread the situation. She knew without a doubt what he was capable of. She wasn’t just responding to a spiteful accusation but evidence from a battered and beaten woman who’d suffered untold damage from the animal in front of her.
She could only put it down to the distraction, to the fog in her brain that only allowed her to concentrate on the whereabouts of her sister, but she knew her mistake the moment she made her move. His hand had been fast to flick away her ID, his knee even faster as she leaned down to retrieve the wallet from the ground.
Pain exploded in a bright profusion of colour as her head snapped to one side, her cheek pulsed, making her stagger backwards down the two steps she’d mounted to his door. Her mind grasped at the mad rush of bodies charging past her as she reeled, breathless.
‘Bloody hell.’ She raised her hand, stared in blank confusion at the crimson streak of blood across her palm, then touched her fingers to the corner of her lip again. He’d split her lip. Bastard.
She raised her head, not an ounce of sympathy emerged as he was held by the two uniformed officers. Left cheek squelched against the grubby wall just inside his front door while they whipped cuffs on him.
‘Are you all right, Sarg?’
‘Yeah.’ She nodded, swiped at blood dribbling down her chin, then nodded again while she retrieved her warrant card from the ground and mounted the two steps back up to Stuart’s door, humiliation and fury roiling together in a black cloud. ‘As I was saying, I’m here to arrest you for the rape of Estelle Rogers…’ She shoved her warrant card back in his face until he squinted and then reeled off the rest of his rights through lips that thickened while she spoke. When she’d almost finished, she added assault of a police officer to his charges. ‘Take him to the station.’
She raised her hand to pull the door shut behind them while the uniforms shuffled him into the back seat of the police vehicle. Movement halted her as a young woman descended the stairs.
‘What’s he done this time?’
The woman stepped forward into the light, a delicate hand rested on her distended stomach. Pretty close to full term, Jenna estimated as her gaze met that of the pregnant woman’s.
‘Rape.’ She skimmed her fingers over her own tender cheek. ‘Assaulting a police officer.’
The woman nodded, a regretful smile kicked up one side of her lips and she took her hand from the bump, fluttered it in a nervous wave, her brown eyes wide. ‘Will you hold him long enough for me to get away?’
Jenna’s gaze met the young woman’s, all thought of her own injuries pushed to one side as she studied the other woman, frail and frightened. ‘Don’t you want to press charges?’
‘No.’ The soft auburn of her curls bounced around her young face. ‘I want to get as far away from him as possible so he can no longer harm me. Us.’ She rubbed the curve of her belly. ‘I just want to escape.’
21
Sunday 28 October, 19:00 hrs
Escape.
Was she capable? Could Fliss escape from wherever she was?
Jenna hadn’t been able to let the pregnant young woman escape. Much as she would have liked to from a personal viewpoint. It wasn’t personal and she couldn’t allow it to become so. The desperate woman played a vital role in the prosecution of Stuart. They needed her evidence.
Gillian Falmer. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d managed to persuade the details from the young victim, coaxing a statement out of her. Jenna never saw the bruises until Gillian stepped out of the dingy hallway into the weak winter sunshine. Large, faded to yellow fingerprints in a necklace around the woman’s slender throat.
Her heart broke for her.
She’d allowed the uniforms to take Stuart, put him in a cell and hold him while forensics could do their part. Divest him of his clothes, take swabs. They’d have to keep him overnight before she interviewed him.
As for Gillian, she’d left her in the understanding care of SOLO overnight. They’d make her comfortable, advise her until Jenna could also take her statement.
She closed down her computer, pushed away from the desk. She was too tired to think straight, and she suspected that if Stuart knew, he’d take full advantage.
She wrapped her scarf around her neck, paced through the main office and dashed down the three flights of stairs. The weather had turned frigid with the setting of the sun and while she had the desperate desire to go and join the search for her sister, she knew she wouldn’t be allowed. It would be wasted energy trying. Energy she needed to save. She needed a good night’s sleep so she could think straight the following day. Straighter than she’d been ab
le to so far.
She pushed open the glass panelled door at the bottom of the stairs, raised her chin to acknowledge Frank who stood in the foyer.
‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Sergeant, you’ve had a long day.’
‘You too, Frank, when are you off home?’
‘I’m going off now, same as you.’
She paused at the heavy outer door of the station. ‘I’m sorry, Frank. With everything that’s happened, I forgot to ask how your wife is.’ The woman had been sick forever, but every so often Jenna remembered to enquire. Uncomfortable with asking, Jenna was aware Frank had it tough as the woman’s sole carer.
Weary, red-rimmed eyes blinked at her. ‘She’s much better, thank you, Sergeant. A different woman altogether.’ A genuine smile wreathed his face and Jenna’s heart relaxed a little. At least someone had good news.
‘That’s good to hear. You take care driving home, the temperature’s dropped, I suspect it’s turned icy by now.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant. I will. You drive carefully too.’
She stepped through into the icy blast of northerly wind, strong enough to suck her breath away. When did it get so cold?
She slipped into her old car, the one she’d kept because it belonged to her mum and somehow it still seemed to smell of her. Jenna turned the key twice before the engine decided to kick in. She’d have to buy a new one sometime soon, but it wasn’t a priority when she could take comfort in the closeness of her mum as she drove home.
While she waited for the heater to warm up, she dialled the vets and got a quick update on Domino. Progress it seemed, in the animal world, was fast and he’d be ready to come home in a few days. She wanted him there now, the deep connection with Fliss had to bring her comfort. They’d know further details tomorrow.
Jenna rubbed her hands over her face, then blew out a breath before she pushed the gearstick into reverse and pulled out of the parking space. The one advantage of working late was the decided lack of traffic around the Telford Town Centre on a Sunday evening. Almost a ghost town, it didn’t take Jenna long to negotiate the roads, slip onto the dual carriageway and make her way home.
Exhaustion pushed her upstairs as soon as she let herself in the house. That and the cold, enough to put icicles in her veins. After the heat of the station, her house chilled her to the bone. Not just the temperature but the absence of her sister.
She crept into Fliss’s bedroom and stared at the bright, jaunty bedcovers daubed in crimson poppies, and gave in to the ache in her chest as she crawled onto the bed and wrapped the duvet around herself.
If Fliss had been there, she would have had the heating blasting out enough for Jenna to curse her about the waste of energy and racking up the bills, so Jenna threatened to make her pay more than her one third share. She’d taken pity on her when Fliss had left the low-life scum and not charged her a full half of the bills.
Jenna curled her body in a tight ball and blinked away the tears in the dark. She wouldn’t charge her anything at all if only Fliss would come back. She’d give anything to have her here but bartering with fate didn’t work. Fate dictated its own passage, as they’d both learned when it came to their mother’s death.
The low growl of her stomach reminded her she’d had nothing to eat since lunchtime, except the mini-muffin Adrian had brought her with her coffee, but she had no interest in food. She just wanted her sister back.
‘Oh, Fliss. Where are you, Fliss?’
22
Sunday 28 October, 19:35 hrs
‘Where are you, Fliss?’
Her eyes shot open, but the bright white light had been turned off, leaving a heavy black shroud over the room.
The sound of her sister’s voice still echoed in the emptiness of her mind. Sure Jenna was there, Fliss lay as still as she could, straining her ears for the slightest noise. There was nothing. Not the dull reverberation of the car coming back, not the grating scrape of the key in the door.
She was alone.
Her stomach tightened to remind her she still hadn’t eaten, but the chill in her feet and ankles made her curl up into a tight ball. She was going to freeze to death before she died of starvation.
The temperature in the room had dropped considerably since she’d drifted off to sleep. There’d been warnings on the news before she was taken that an Arctic blast was due in. They’d considered themselves lucky to have had such a long, mild autumn, but winter was about to hit hard, and it may just be Fliss was going to be one of its victims.
Her teeth chattered in the dark, dispelling the echo of Jenna’s voice, but the memory of the dream still lingered. Not a dream, but a memory.
‘Fliss, where are you?’
‘I’m here. Come and see what I’ve got.’ Excitement sent shivers over her flesh, so she pulled the tiny puppy in close and gave him a cuddle, his plump, warm body writhed in her arms until she put him down, leaving a cold empty spot where he’d been.
‘Oh, Fliss. How could you?’
The disappointment in her sister’s voice couldn’t chase away the thrill of having the sweet little thing crawl over her lap. ‘I couldn’t help myself. I’ve always wanted a dog.’
Jenna settled on the carpet next to her. ‘But a Dalmatian? What possessed you to get a Dalmatian? They’re crazy.’
Fliss ran a light hand over his plump, velvet body and grinned as he squirmed around, trying to settle down in the gap where she sat cross-legged. ‘I thought he was perfect. They don’t shed as much as other dogs.’
Jenna swiped him from her lap and held him in her arms while she inspected him. A reluctant grin spread across her face as his pink tongue took sly licks at her face and her laughter filled the small kitchen where they both were sitting on the floor. ‘Oh my God, he’s beautiful. What are you going to call him?’
‘Spotty.’
‘No, you can’t.’
The thrill of annoying her sister sent a ball of laughter through her. She couldn’t help herself, she found it irresistible to tease her, just to see the horror on Jenna’s face. She was always so damned serious. ‘I’m joking. I thought maybe Domino.’
Jenna snuggled the wriggling puppy, buried her face in his neck. ‘That’s a good name. I like it.’ She smiled as she sniffed the top of his head. ‘He smells like a baby. He’s beautiful. And you’re irresponsible.’
Fliss laughed, knowing the puppy had won her sister over. ‘I thought the timing was right for a puppy. Mum will love him and at least he’ll always have one of us around, with your shifts and me working days.’
‘Oh, no.’ Jenna passed the puppy over, his warm tongue smothered Fliss’s face, making her laugh again as Jenna struggled to her feet. ‘Nope. He’s not my responsibility. You got him, you look after him.’
‘But, Jenna…’ Her voice took on a whiny plea.
‘No, Fliss. This is yours.’ Her sister flicked her fingers at the puppy and then grabbed a mug out of the kitchen cabinet. ‘What’s the betting he’ll be nothing but trouble?’
He’d been barely any trouble at all.
And then the man had killed him.
A soft sob burst from her lips as she tried to hold the sound in, the fear in, but the sinister chill of it all soaked through her.
Her toes were like icicles and she could no longer stop the mad chatter of her teeth. She was going to die. Then Jenna would be left alone, no mother, no boyfriend, no dog, no sister.
Grief tore at her, not for her death, but for the sad and lonely life her sister would lead.
The faint aroma of car fumes snaked through her senses, while a vague tremor rumbled. He was back. The man had returned.
Perhaps now he’d kill her.
Perhaps now he’d save her.
She closed her eyes to wait.
Bright torchlight flooded the room casting back the darkness in a wide swathe.
She’d never heard the man come in over the clattering of her teeth, but he was there, and she couldn’t help curling into a
tight ball to protect herself against the cold and the fear.
‘Bloody light bulb’s blown. Left you in the dark.’
Warm fingers smoothed the hair back from her face, forcing her to open her eyes and blink him into focus, but the spasms still wracked her body, so her muscles contracted in a hard, painful pull, elastic bands ready to snap.
‘Oh, my dear. I’m so sorry. I got caught up with something and never realised how cold it had become.’ The weight of a thick cover pressed down on her, but as she tried to snuggle in deeper, the man tugged her up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright. ‘Here, drink.’
The scald of it didn’t stop her from gulping down the tomato soup while he held it against her lips. Her head rested on his shoulder. Weak and pathetic, not even pride could persuade her to refuse the hot liquid. It slid down her bruised throat, dribbled from her lips, but she didn’t care. He’d take it away just before she had enough anyway, so she needed all she could get as quick as she could. She didn’t want to die, and the delicious warmth of the soup would help her survive.
He tipped the cup away from her lips, dabbed them with a tissue. ‘Slow down, you’re going to choke.’ The sliminess of his voice sent a violent shudder through her, but she still accepted the soup as he brought the cup back to her mouth. Grateful for anything to stop the grinding ache in her stomach and give her the energy to think just so she could formulate a plan to escape.
The man obviously worked. Though she had no idea where. Her senses told her it was night-time, but she had no idea really, no idea how long she’d slept each time and no way to tell whether it was day or night.
As she drained the last bit from the mug, she leaned her head against his bony shoulder, weakened with relief as his warmth soaked into her body and the cocoon he’d wrapped around her started to heat her up.
‘What time is it?’ Her voice barely croaked out of her lips and stuttered to a halt as his narrowed gaze studied her with a cold detachment, chilling the bones that had just started to warm through.