‘No, he went out. I think he’s gone to stay with a . . . friend.’ Lucy realised how strange it must sound, but it was, after all, the truth. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’
‘You’re sure?’ the police officer asked again. The paramedics exchanged a word or two and were beginning to back away.
‘Really,’ Lucy assured him. ‘Who did you say phoned you?’
‘It was an anonymous call.’
‘Oh God,’ Lucy blurted out.
‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ The officer was reluctant to go. ‘We could come in and check—’
‘No really, thank you,’ Lucy heard herself insist. ‘There’s no need. Goodnight.’ She watched as the two policemen reluctantly retraced their steps down the drive and back to their car, one of them speaking into his radio. Then she closed and securely bolted the door. Climbing the stairs again, she went to draw the curtains in the bedroom and saw a light upstairs in the house across the road. He wouldn’t have . . . would he? Lucy didn’t think she could possibly sleep tonight, but after the wine she’d drunk she suddenly felt so tired.
* * *
‘Did you sleep well?’ Mariner asked Kat on Wednesday morning.
‘Sure.’ She seemed surprised by the question. Today she had scrambled some eggs and was eating them runny, the way she liked them.
Mariner had stepped into the kitchen to deposit his empty coffee mug. ‘You called out in your sleep,’ he said. ‘Did you have a bad dream?’
But Kat shrugged. She didn’t remember.
* * *
Mariner was one of the first in the car park that morning. But as he got out of his car and began to cross the compound, he heard a woman’s voice calling his name. At first he didn’t recognise her. ‘What are you doing here?’ he said, when the penny had dropped. Stephanie looked older than he remembered and had clearly made an effort with her make up, but in daylight she looked somehow different — not his usual type at all.
‘I brought you this.’ She handed him a plastic lunch box. ‘You need fattening up. I thought you were probably the kind of man who wouldn’t have time to prepare anything, and you need to eat.’
Mariner was both embarrassed and irritated by the presumption, but she’d clearly gone to some effort so he gave in gracefully. ‘Right, er, thanks,’ he took the plastic box from her. ‘How did you know where to find me?’
She touched the side of her heavily powdered nose. ‘Oh, I have ways. What time do you finish?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Mariner, truthfully. He’d just seen Tony Knox pulling into the compound. ‘We’ve got a lot on just at the moment.’ He began moving towards where Knox was reversing into a space.
‘Well, don’t forget to call,’ Stephanie called after him. ‘I was wondering if you were free tonight?’
‘I really couldn’t say,’ Mariner picked up his stride. ‘I’ll let you know.’
‘Only we seemed to hit it off so well, didn’t we?’ Stephanie persisted.
Did we? ‘I’ll need to check my diary,’ Mariner stalled, quickening his pace. ‘Excuse me, I need to have a word with my sergeant.’
‘Well, keep in touch, won’t you?’ she called after him.
Waving a vague acknowledgement, Mariner walked over to where Knox’s car had come to a halt, opened the passenger door and got in.
Knox visibly jumped. ‘Jesus, Joseph and Mary! Where did you spring from?’
‘Don’t bother getting out of the car,’ Mariner said. ‘We’ve got work to do.’ He put the lunch box in the foot well.
‘What’s the rush?’ Knox asked putting on his seat belt and re-starting the car. ‘I was looking forward to a cuppa.’ Nevertheless, Knox manoeuvred back out of the parking bay and towards the entrance, driving past Stephanie who still stood watching them go, waving frantically to Mariner.
‘She’s the rush,’ said Mariner, returning a reluctant acknowledgement. ‘Make it look as if we’re discussing something important, will you?’
Knox smirked. ‘Oh, is that your admirer?’
‘Don’t laugh,’ snapped Mariner. ‘We’re talking about something serious.’
‘Course we are, boss,’ Knox said, stifling his amusement.
‘What’s she doing?’ Mariner asked as traffic out on the road brought them to a halt at the car park entrance.
Knox checked his rear-view mirror. ‘She’s getting in her car, but she’s still watching you, to make sure you’re safely on your way.’
‘How the hell did she find me here?’
‘She’ll have googled you,’ said Knox, pulling onto the main road.
‘Oh, she did that all right, and the rest . . .’ Mariner began, events of a couple of nights ago, fresh once again in his mind.
‘Perhaps you’ll have to put in for a transfer,’ Knox said, mischievously.
Mariner winced, though Knox couldn’t have known why. If he’d done that a year ago, Anna might not have walked out on him.
‘So where are we going?’ Knox asked now that they were out on the road.
‘Nina Silvero’s house,’ said Mariner.
* * *
A little later that morning, as Millie ascended the stairs to CID, she heard heavy breathing from behind and Sergeant Brian Mann caught up with her. ‘Thought you should know,’ he gasped, falling into step with her. ‘Two of our lads got called to Lucy Jarrett’s house last night. We had a 999 to say that she was being attacked.’
‘What?’
‘It’s okay,’ Mann wheezed. ‘Turned out to be a false alarm. Apparently she and her old man had a bit of a barney, but he’d gone by the time we got there. She said it was nothing, so they came away again.’
‘Do we know who made the call?’ asked Millie.
‘Pretty sure it was a bloke, but he wouldn’t give his name.’
‘Okay, thanks, I’ll go and talk to her. You know she wanted us to drop the investigation?’ Millie told him.
Mann nodded. ‘Our guys thought she was pretty wound up, especially when they told her it was an anonymous call. She might change her mind now.’
* * *
On a Wednesday morning Lucy Jarrett should have been at work, but when Millie got to the health centre, she wasn’t there. In fact the only person in the broad, open-plan office, was an older woman with a mane of wild greying hair. Her clothes were garish and flowing, and she wore the heavy-framed glasses that were currently in vogue. She came over to where Millie hovered by the door. ‘Can I help you?’
Millie took out her warrant card and asked to speak to Lucy.
‘She’s out on visits this morning, but I work on her team. Paula Kirkwood,’ she held out a hand for Millie to shake. ‘She should be back fairly soon and you’re welcome to wait here. Is it anything I can help with?’
‘I’m not sure,’ said Millie, following Paula over to her work station in the corner of the room, adjacent to the small kitchen area. Millie took one of the vacant chairs. Paula’s desk was piled high with stacks of files that competed with the collection of small soft toys, banked up against the wall. ‘Would you like a drink?’ Paula asked. She was already filling the kettle as Millie accepted. ‘I’ve got the prime spot here,’ she went on. ‘Though it does mean that I’ve developed a caffeine addiction. Tea or coffee?’
‘Tea, thanks.’ Millie’s attention was snagged by a number of striking photographs on the wall of young, African children.
Paula saw her looking. ‘Beautiful, aren’t they?’ she said. ‘They’re from Ghana. I did some volunteer work out there for a number of years. In fact I haven’t been back long, but Lucy’s been great; the whole team has. They’ve really helped me to settle back in. Do you take milk?’ The kettle had boiled.
‘Please,’ said Millie.
The drinks made, Paula came and joined Millie beside her desk.
‘You know that Lucy’s been getting unwelcome phone calls?’ Millie said.
‘She has mentioned them,’ Paula said, curiously. ‘I didn’t realise it was bad enough to
involve you.’
‘Well, that’s the thing,’ said Millie. ‘I’m not sure if we are involved. Lucy came in yesterday morning to talk to us but, as of yesterday afternoon, she asked us to drop the investigation. Then late last night we had an emergency call from someone who was concerned for her safety. Basically, I’ve just come to check that she’s okay. Have you seen her this morning?’
Paula shook her head. ‘She must have come in early and gone straight out again, but that isn’t unusual. There’s a lot to pack into a day. How serious is this?’
‘Well, we don’t know yet, but after Jemima Murdoch—’
‘Oh yes, I heard about that. We get that from time to time too; the one incident that makes it imperative to follow up anything similar.’
‘Exactly,’ said Millie. ‘I only met Lucy yesterday, so you must know her better. What’s she like?’
Paula didn’t hesitate. ‘She’s a highly experienced health visitor, great at her job.’
‘Popular?’
‘Oh yes,’ Paula smiled. ‘Lots of families become very attached to Lucy. She’s a very warm person and takes the time to get to know them. And I’ve seen her in action; she’s lovely with the children.’
‘How well do you get to know the families you work with?’ Millie asked, well aware from her time as a family liaison officer that lines could sometimes become blurred.
‘Very well, some of them. Why, do you . . .?’ the penny dropped, and Paula shook her head emphatically. ‘Oh no, I’m sure Lucy isn’t like that. She knows the professional boundaries and stays well within them.’
‘But you said it yourself, she’s a nice woman. Things can get misconstrued. Is there anyone who might have misread the nature of her role?’ Millie wondered.
‘I doubt it.’ Paula was firm. ‘We work mainly with new mothers. Most of them are far too tired and busy to be thinking beyond their families.’
‘Any tensions here in the office?’ Millie asked, taking a different tack. ‘Difficult relationships with colleagues?’
‘Well, as I said, I’ve only been here a few months, but we work pretty well as a team,’ Paula said. ‘There are disagreements sometimes about working practices, especially as the government seems to need to radically overhaul our procedures every few months, but any issues we thrash out in team meetings. Everyone gets their say.’
‘Do you socialise much, as a team?’
‘Occasionally, you know, we go out for birthdays, that kind of thing.’
‘So you’ve met Lucy’s husband?’
‘Partners don’t always come along, and of course Will is away such a lot.’ Paula thought for a moment. ‘He hasn’t really been to anything that I can remember. Apart from seeing him at the wedding, I’ve only met him on the odd occasion when he’s picked Lucy up from work. I wouldn’t say that I’ve had much opportunity to get to know him. No one has.’
It was a loaded remark. ‘How do you mean?’ Millie asked.
‘It just all happened rather suddenly,’ Paula said, cautiously. ‘It seemed that Lucy had hardly started to mention Will’s name before he was moving in with her and they were making wedding plans, or at least Lucy was. I feel disloyal saying this because she’s . . . I was going to say “in thrall” to him but perhaps that’s too strong. “Besotted” might be more accurate. But as an outsider it seemed to me that he had everything to gain and nothing to lose from the liaison. He moved into Lucy’s house and as far as I’m aware he’s brought nothing material to the relationship.’ Paula stopped suddenly. ‘God, listen to me. I’m sounding like a real bitch, aren’t I?’
‘You’re being honest,’ Millie said, diplomatically.
‘It’s just that so much of the relationship seems to be on Will’s terms. Still, he didn’t get it all his own way.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’m sure it would have been Will’s style to have a low-key, registry office wedding, but Lucy insisted on the works — morning suits, the lot — and she can afford it so she got her way in the end.’ Paula was suddenly pensive. ‘Although they would have got some decent gifts out of it so maybe that’s how she sold the idea to Will.’
‘He’s mercenary?’ Millie asked, drawing the obvious conclusion.
‘Let’s just say that what Lucy tells us about him doesn’t quite add up,’ Paula replied. ‘She’s always saying what a free spirit he is, non-materialistic and all of that, but she always seems to be buying him presents. He likes his gadgets. He didn’t turn down the offer of a brand-new custom-liveried tour van when Lucy offered it to him. Sorry, this must sound as if I’m being a real cow, but no one wants to see a friend get taken advantage of.’
‘And that’s what you think is happening here?’ Millie asked.
‘Well, of course I don’t know exactly what goes on between them, but . . .’ The hanging sentence made her views clear.
‘Has Lucy changed much since she got married?’ Millie wondered.
‘The changes happened when she first met Will,’ said Paula. ‘We all noticed it. Before that she had always been quite conservative with her clothes. Lucy made the most of herself but went for the conventional, preppy kind of look. When Will came on the scene she definitely started to be more daring with her wardrobe, outrageous even.’ She laughed, holding out her berobed arms. ‘Says me, who dresses exclusively from Oxfam. But this was different; some of Lucy’s outfits were inappropriately revealing, and I got the distinct impression that she was dressing to please Will and was slightly awkward in these clothes. I know our line manager had to speak to her on at least one occasion. We have to watch the way we dress to go into people’s homes. And Will has tattoos, so soon after they met Lucy was sporting one as well, though I think she mainly keeps it covered up now.’
More compromises, thought Millie. ‘And since they got married?’ she asked.
‘If anything, I’d say Lucy’s reverted more to type really, quietened down again, as if she’s taken the manager’s comments on board.’
Lucy came back into the office just as Millie was finishing her tea. ‘Hi, how are you?’ she asked, thinking that Lucy looked tired and preoccupied.
‘Hi, I’m fine. At least . . .’
‘What is it?’
‘Something else happened just now,’ said Lucy. Scrunched in her hand was a scrap of paper. She passed it to Millie. ‘I’ve just called in at the supermarket to get a sandwich, and when I came out this was on my car.’
Millie opened out a crumpled, slightly grimy square of paper on which a note had been scrawled: Sorry, scraped your car when I backed out, followed by what looked like a mobile phone number.
‘Well, let’s call the number.’ Millie was mystified as to what the problem could be.
‘I’ve already tried,’ Lucy said. ‘It’s not recognised.’
‘Well, that’s really not so remarkable,’ said Millie. ‘People are not as honest as we’d like to think. Is there much damage to your car?’
‘That’s the point,’ Lucy said, impatiently, as if Millie was being dense. ‘I’ve been over it practically with a magnifying glass and I can’t find anything. I was only gone about ten minutes, tops, and as far as I remember the cars parked on either side of me were the same ones that were there when I arrived. The back of my car, which was the only bit exposed, is untouched. You can see for yourself.’
‘Sure, let’s go and have a look.’ Handing her empty mug to Paula, Millie followed Lucy back out to the car park. Close examination verified what Lucy was saying; the car was pristine with not even the slightest scratch that Millie could see.
‘There may still be a rational explanation,’ Millie reassured her, as they walked back to the office. ‘Perhaps whoever left the note was mistaken and actually hit one of the cars adjacent to yours. Or perhaps they did clip your car, not hard enough to do any damage, but felt guilty about it so left the note?’
‘In that case, why leave a false phone number?’ Lucy demanded. ‘It doesn’t make any sense. I can’t stand this! Who’
s doing it to me?’ By the time they got back to Lucy’s desk, she was shaking. Paula was on hand with more tea. She had her coat on. ‘I’ve got to pop out so I’ll leave you to it,’ she said. ‘Nice to have met you, DC Khatoon.’
Millie smiled thanks and pulled up a chair beside Lucy. ‘I understand some of my colleagues were called out to your house last night,’ she ventured.
‘I wish they hadn’t bothered,’ Lucy said, sulkily. ‘I don’t know who would have called them. It was nothing.’ She looked up at Millie. ‘Is that why you’re here?’
‘The caller said he thought you were being attacked,’ Millie said.
‘Well, he was wrong.’ Her defiance lacked conviction. ‘It was a disagreement, that’s all. Whoever it was had no business involving you. As I said yesterday, I want to drop this whole ridiculous nonsense.’ Her hands, clasped around the mug were trembling slightly and Millie could see the effort it was taking for her to hold it together.
‘So you’re saying nothing happened?’ she confirmed. ‘The caller said he saw you fall to the floor as if you’d been struck.’
Lucy’s brow creased into a frown. ‘It was nothing like that. Will didn’t touch me.’ Her voice wavered. ‘I might have bent down to pick up . . .’
‘Pick up what?’ Millie prompted, gently.
Finally, Lucy broke down, and placing the mug shakily on her desk she fumbled for a tissue as the tears began to come. ‘Will found a pregnancy test,’ she sobbed. ‘It was one of the things that came in the post, along with the other stuff.’
‘What other stuff?’
‘All those catalogues, like the ones you saw — dozens of them, all related to kids and parenthood. They’re all addressed to me so Will thinks that’s what I want.’
Millie was genuinely puzzled now. ‘But why is that a problem, Lucy? You’re newly married. It’s natural that . . .’
‘I told you,’ she cut in. ‘We’re not having children; not ever. Will doesn’t want them. It was part of the deal when we got married. The kind of lifestyle he has, it’s not conducive to raising a family. And that’s fine with me.’
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