by Clare Revell
~*~
Isabel rinsed her face in cold water to hide the tears. I can’t do this.
Yes, you can. No more running and hiding. No more secrets. You can trust him. He’ll help you.
Trust had to start somewhere, and things couldn’t go on like this. Zander had helped her with Farrell and the teasing and bullying, so maybe this burden would ease once someone else knew.
She straightened, tucking the locket back inside her shirt. Then she took a breath so deep she coughed. Shouldering her bag, she headed back to where Zander sat. The food had arrived, and he’d begun eating.
He glanced up apologetically as she slid into her chair. “Sorry, I’m hungry.”
“No problem.” She silently said grace and picked up her fork. “So, I’ve never told anyone this before.”
He glanced at her. “Told anyone what?”
“You asked about my family. I’ve never spoken about it, never wanted to. It’s not easy or pretty. I gave the Guv the basics when he asked why I hadn’t left Farrell sooner and why I put up with him, but not even the Guv knows the whole truth.”
“You don’t have to, it’s fine.”
“No. I need to. You’re right about that. But you can’t tell anyone. I don’t need to give the blokes at work another reason to hate or tease me.”
“They wouldn’t,” Zander said. “But I promise. What happens between partners stays between partners. Unless you’re about to tell me you’re a closet bank robber, addicted to heroin, or you’re involved in child trafficking, in which case I have to tell the Guv. Policy, you know.”
Isabel stabbed her macaroni cheese with the fork and examined the noodle embedded on the metal tines. “Nothing like that. I was born in Bath, but moved around a fair bit, ending up in Shrewsbury. I have no brothers or sisters. No father either. It was just me and Mum.”
“Are your parents divorced?” he asked.
He dunked a piece of flat bread into something yellow and lumpy.
She didn’t want to ask what he was eating. “Nope. According to Mum, my father left her as soon as she told him she was pregnant. He offered to pay for an abortion. She took the money, and he walked out and didn’t look back. She assumed he had a wife somewhere and didn’t want her finding out about us. She never told me his name, and it isn’t on my birth certificate.”
“She didn’t have the abortion obviously.”
Isabel shook her head. How did she put this next bit without sounding crass or uncaring? Actually, there wasn’t an easy way. It didn’t even sound good in her head. She’d lived it, remembered it most days, dreamt it most nights, and the scars ran deep rooted and far reaching. She realised with a shock that they extended to her very soul and she stood in danger of losing it because she couldn’t let go of the past. Her relationship with her Heavenly Father was being affected by the events of the past and her earthly parents.
She ate silently for a minute, grateful that Zander ate too, not hassling her for this next part of the story. “Mum had, umm, she had this major addiction to drink and drugs. I didn’t get much to eat, what little money she got from work or benefits or other means went on her habits. I had a succession of what she called ‘uncles.’ Several of them a day, sometimes. She died when I was eight. A drug overdose. I was alone with her body for several days before anyone came. I thought it was my fault. She always blamed me for everything, said I was a bad girl. So I grew up believing that her dying must have been my fault. I know it wasn’t now, but it took me a long time to get that far.”
“Oh, Is.” Compassion filled his eyes and his hands covered hers. “I’m so sorry. Didn’t school wonder where you were?”
“I didn’t go to school. Well, not much. No clean clothes or whatever. I stopped going when the other kids picked on me. No one cared if I was there or not.” Unwanted tears spilled down her cheeks. “I don’t know why I’m crying. She never loved me. I was an inconvenience. Anyway, about three days or so after she died, someone must have heard me crying because the police broke in and took me away. I spent a while in hospital before being put in the foster system. Well, children’s home. Several homes, actually, in different places until I ended up in Shrewsbury when I was fourteen. Stayed there four years. Then on my eighteenth birthday, I got thrown out of there and onto the streets.”
He frowned. “Seriously?”
“At eighteen I was no longer a child, therefore couldn’t stay there. Some birthday present huh?”
“I’m so sorry. It’s no wonder you don’t like hospitals. Part of me wishes I’d asked sooner or never asked at all.”
She managed a faint smile, despite the turmoil within her. “Don’t be. It’s been eating away at me for years. The unfairness of it all. Half the reason I hate hospitals and needles is because of this. I associate needles with the drugs. Mum would be horrid without them and then, once on them, high as a kite. It occurred to me lately that I never knew the love of a parent, so it’s affected everything. Including my relationship with God.” She tugged the pendant free from her shirt. “See this? It’s the only thing Mum ever gave me. When I was six I got the lead role in a play at school. She gave it to me then. It’s the only thing I have left of her other than my name. I never take it off.” Sniffing, she rubbed her hands over her eyes. “Sorry.”
“It’s all right.” He opened the packet of tissues he kept in his pocket. “Here have a tissue.”
Isabel took it gratefully. “So, there you go,” she said blowing her nose. “That’s me. The deep, dark secret of the kid who wasn’t loved. Ten years in the system, then thrown aside like rubbish.”
Zander rubbed her arm. “What did you do?”
“They gave me a little money. I used it all to get a train here. Purely because I liked the sound of the name. Gran was on the same train and we ended up sitting next to each other. We got talking and the rest, as they say, is history. It didn’t take her long to get out of me that I was broke and had nowhere to go. She gave me a roof over my head, food, helped me find a job. I wouldn’t have become the woman I am now without her. Now she’s gone, too.” She sniffed again, blotting yet more tears. “Sorry.”
“Stop apologising, Is. It’s fine.” He handed her the whole packet of tissues. “I think you need these more than I do.” He studied her. “But you have me. And you have God in your corner. He’ll give you the strength you need one day at a time.”
She nodded. Somehow just telling him had lifted a huge weight from her shoulders. As if she’d finally put the ghosts of the past to rest. She looked at her plate, surprised to find it empty. Catching sight of her watch she glanced up. “We should go. It’s almost quarter past eight. I’d rather be early than late.”
Zander stood. “Best not be late—the Guv’s stressed enough without that. Thank you for telling me. But that goes a long way to explaining why you didn’t leave Farrell, despite him knocking you around. He offered affection, twisted though it was.”
She grabbed her bag, sucking in a deep breath. “But I’d rather not talk about him. We have a killer to catch tonight. I assume someone will be parked outside the Guv’s place all night.”
He nodded. “And every night until the bloke is locked up. Ready? Then let’s go.”
~*~
When Zander parked outside the chapel, the lights in the hall were still on. Isabel stayed in the car whilst he relieved the two plain clothes cops on duty. She tossed the sweatshirt from her lap to the backseat and cranked down the window. She’d only brought it in case it got cold overnight. She could hear the youth group shouting and playing in the hall.
Zander came back. “OK, they’re running late, but that’s not a problem. I spy with my little eye, something beginning with R.”
“Radio.”
“Too easy. Your turn.”
Isabel glanced around then smirked. “I spy with my little eye something beginning with G.”
Half an hour later, by ten minutes to nine, they had exhausted all the letters in the alphabet and run out of thi
ngs to guess. Isabel looked across at the chapel. “You can see a lot from here. Aside from the far side of the grounds. Is someone else covering that?”
“I imagine so.” Zander checked his watch and pulled a clipboard from the glove box. “So, this is the stake out board. Tony devised it. As you can see it’s incredibly boring.” He noted the time at the top of the sheet and then drew four lines.
Isabel raised an eyebrow. “That looks more like a noughts and crosses board to me.”
“Does it?” he asked, looking innocently at her. He drew a cross on the board. “Oh well, in fifteen minutes it’s your move.”
She snorted. “We might get two whole games in by dawn.”
“Maybe. We could play chess, as I have a magnetic set somewhere, but I can’t stand the game. Never really understood it, despite Tony trying to teach me several times.” He reached into his pocket. “Meant to show you this earlier. It’s hanging in pride of place in the art gallery.”
Isabel took the postcard. Shivers ran down her spine as her face gazed up at her. “It’s me.”
“That’s what the Sarge and I thought. Farrell commented on it as well. It’s by a Scottish painter, Sara Barnes. We need to check her out at some point.” He shifted. “It’s no good. I have to go.”
“You shouldn’t have drank all that coffee,” Isabel commented, unable to take her eyes off the postcard.
Zander took it from her hands. “Watch the church, and no cheating while I’m gone.” He got out of the car.
“As if.” She settled back in the seat, her gaze firmly on Zander as he crossed the church yard towards the building. He went inside, closing the door behind him.
A scream split the air. Isabel leapt from the car. There was another scream. Three teenagers burst from the building laughing and screaming. Isabel shook her head and got back into the car. She opened the window wider. It was hot and airless tonight. She alternated her gaze between the church and surrounding area. She’d never thought of church yards as pretty, but this one was.
Zander was gone for almost half an hour before he reappeared.
“You took your time,” she complained. “Thought you’d got lost.”
“Sorry.” He shrugged off his jacket and shoved it into the back of the car, before slamming the door and taking his seat in the front.
“How can you wear that in this heat?” she asked.
“I’m not now, but my wallet is in the inside pocket. Not leaving that in the car.”
“Anyone would think you didn’t trust me with your credit card.” She thrust the clipboard at him. “I was tempted to have two goes, but I didn’t.” She scrunched up her nose. “You’re filthy. Is that blood on your shirt and sleeve?”
Zander glanced down. “I had a nosebleed. I waited until it had stopped before coming back.” He took his go and gave her the clipboard back.
Isabel glanced around the church yard again before studied the board, trying to decide where to put her mark. “You should go to the doctors and get them sorted. That’s the third in a few days.”
“Maybe. No one’s died of a nosebleed yet.”
She threw the clipboard onto the dashboard, returning her gaze to the surrounding area. “Yet being the operative word. There is a first time for everything. Besides, it could be a sign of something else.”
“Such as?” He took his tie off, tossing it behind him.
“I don’t know.” She waved her hands. “Nose cancer or the inability to smell.”
He laughed. “I don’t think so. Look, it must be kicking out time.”
Cars began to arrive, and a stream of adults exited them. Uniformed officers approached and started checking ID’s.
“Like a well-oiled machine,” Isabel commented. She got out of the car, leaning against it.
“What are you doing? Surveillance is meant to be hidden.”
“I can see better this way and with so many adults around, I’ll look like another parent for now.”
Zander moved around the car to join her. He leaned against the car in front of her. “May as well pretend together for a few. We can watch opposite directions.” he said quietly.
The church hall doors opened, and teenagers began to spill out. The officers paired them with their parents.
DS Philips and his wife came out with their two teenage daughters.
Isabel slanted her head. “That’s a big age difference between the youngest teen and the imminent arrival of a baby.”
“Amy is his second wife. His first wife, Jasmine, was murdered. The DI and his wife, well, girlfriend at the time, found her. He took her home and they found Jasmine in Adeline’s house. The killer had murdered the wrong woman. He was after Adeline.” Zander kept his gaze on the view behind her. “Do you remember the Herbalist case?”
Isabel frowned. “The bloke who killed the Prime Minister? He was after the Guv’s wife? No wonder he overreacted when I told him about my theory then.”
“Oh, yeah.”
DS Philips saw his family to the car next to Zander’s. “Sit tight and lock the doors. I won’t be long.”
Mrs. Holmes came out with her protective detail. The dog walked beside her, the teenager sulking visibly. DI Holmes came behind them, carrying a sleeping toddler.
“How can that baby sleep through all the noise?” Isabel wondered.
“You’d be surprised,” Zander chuckled. “I have a nephew who can sleep through anything.”
Three teenagers played tag amongst the parked cars. DS Philips crossed over and spoke to them. The kids shrugged.
“Parents running late, perhaps,” Isabel suggested.
“Maybe. But several of the local kids attend and they walk here.” Zander nodded. “See, a uniformed officer is taking them home in a car.”
She laughed. “Oh, that will improve their street cred no end. Not.”
Zander laughed. “I’m going to stretch my legs.”
“Again?” She rolled her eyes. “No more coffee for you, mate.”
Zander doubled timed it over to the church hall before they locked up. The door closed behind him.
Two teenagers ran around the side of the building, screaming.
Isabel ran over to the teens. “What’s wrong?”
“She’s dead!” screamed one of them.
“Where is she?” Isabel asked.
The teen pointed towards the far side of the church.
Isabel touched her arm. “Go and get DI Holmes. He’s just getting in his car.” She ran in the direction the girl pointed. Skidding around the side of the hall, she saw the body. Posed as normal as if in prayer. This time blood from a head wound soaked into the white towelling gown. Isabel pulled a glove from her pocket and struggled into it, before touching the woman’s neck. The body was still warm, but she knew there wouldn’t be a pulse. Turning, she yelled over her shoulder. “I need some help over here.” She lifted the victim’s hair, gasping in shock. “No. Lexi…”
DI Holmes and DS Philips ran around the corner. “Isabel?”
She shook her head. “She’s dead.” She pushed to her feet, myriad emotions filling her. She bit her lip. “We were right here, watching. How…?”
DI Holmes pulled his phone out and started barking orders into it.
DS Philips began to organise the uniform officers to secure the crime scene.
Zander ran to Isabel’s side, pulling her away. “Is, are you all right?”
“I’m fine. She’s dead. I don’t understand. We were right here. He killed her in almost plain sight whilst we were watching.” She paused. “It’s Lexi.”
Shock registered on Zander’s face.
DI Holmes strode over to them. “I want this whole area sealed off. Dane, I’ve sent all the kids and Amy back with Adeline to mine for the night. Uniform are taking them and parking outside. Do we know who she is yet?”
Isabel nodded. “Lexi Eke. She’s the home help I employed for Gran and Zander’s grandfather.” She froze. “She had one of those necklaces, but she’s no
t wearing it now.”
Zander’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe he took her from Gramps’s place.”
“We won’t know until your grandfather wakes up and can be interviewed. It’s possible she was taken from somewhere else and the break in is unrelated.” Isabel stared over at the body. “We were right here. I could have stopped him.”
DI Holmes shook his head. “We were all here. OK, you know what to do. Let’s get to work.”
Zander turned to Isabel as he pulled on latex gloves. “This is personal now. For both of us.”
Isabel shuddered. “This is six, Zander. He won’t stop until he’s reached ten.” Something told her that they’d just missed their last chance to end this before the murderer did so.
To be continued in Book 3
Before I Wake
Say a Prayer Series Glossary
ARU — armed response unit
Cornflour — cornstarch
CPS — Crown Prosecution Service (DA)
Dob — tell tales, report
Drapers — shop specialising in fabric and cloth
Extract the Michael/take the Mickey — make fun
of, tease
Faffed — messed about.
Full English breakfast — bacon, sausage, fried
egg, fried bread, black pudding, baked beans,
tomato, hash browns, and mushrooms.
Gobsmacked — lost for words
Grass — dob in, snitch
HDU — high dependency unit. One step down
from ICU
Hoicked — yanked, pulled
Hole in the wall/cash point — ATM
Hush your larrup — Traditionally means to stop
beating something. It’s also slang for don’t be
cheeky, be quiet, give it a rest.
Ickle — small, tiny, little, a tad
Lao Órga — (Gaelic) Golden Calf