“You saw her have this attack?”
“Yes. If any of the staff on site take ill, I try to see them. It gives me a better idea of how long I’ll need to find cover for them.”
“And you can check if they’re faking or not,” Gareth added.
“I’d never be so cynical, Detective,” Diana said with a grin and a wink.
“Anyone else?” Kate asked.
“Hm, Tim Warburton left a short while ago. Said his wife’s had a bad fall and he was at the hospital with her last night. Said he was going to try and make it through the shift but he was flagging. Asked for a day’s holiday and apologised for the short notice.” She twisted her mouth into a grimace.
Kate didn’t believe for a moment that Mr Warburton’s wife had fallen. Well, not unless she’d been pushed…with a fist. “I think we need to chat with him. Don’t you, Detective Constable Collier?”
“I do, sarge.”
Diana pointed to the flash drive. “His address is on there.”
Kate tapped her temple. “His address is in here too. You gave it to us in the employee files yesterday.”
“Oh, yes. Of course.” She shook her head. “Sorry.”
“No need to apologise. We appreciate your help, Diana.” Kate shifted until she was sitting correctly in her seat again and reached for the key in the ignition.
“There is one other person who called in sick.”
Kate turned back and waited for Diana to continue.
“David Bale.”
“Is he someone who calls in sick a lot?” Kate asked.
“No. I’ve never known it to happen before.”
“How long has he worked at Brancombe House?”
“Well, he started part-time while he was at college. Just weekends and so on about five years ago. When I looked at the records though, it appeared that he didn’t take his wages. He had them put towards the care of a resident.”
That got Kate’s attention. “Which resident?”
“Edward Bale.”
“Father?”
Diana shook her head. “His grandfather.”
“And he’s worked here ever since?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you,” she said to Diana, and glanced at Collier. She hoped he got the message that this guy just went to the top of their suspect list. Suspect in what crime exactly though, she still wasn’t sure. The only thing she was sure about was that this case was one great big ball of string all tangled up and knotted together. She couldn’t wait until they would finally be able to figure out all the pieces.
CHAPTER 13
Gina squeezed the trigger and fired a pungent plume of atomised liquid at the green-and-black patch of mould clinging to the grout between the tiles. Then another, and another, until the wall was covered and the bubbles of limescale remover began to do their work. There was something supremely satisfying in blasting the clinging spores to hell. Twenty minutes and she’d just rinse them away. If only every nasty, clinging thing was as easy to get rid of.
She left the light on behind her to keep the extractor fan filtering the air in the small en suite. Every room in the hostel had an en suite, but not all of them had windows. This one didn’t, and she didn’t like the smell of the noxious fumes from the spray. They gave her a headache.
Her phone rang while she stared at the bubbles and rubbed her temples. She answered it and held it to her ear without looking at the caller information. “Hello?”
“Hi, is this Gina Temple?”
“Who’s this?”
“Sorry, my name’s Jodi Mann. I’m a counsellor for the Victim Support team. I was given this number by Detective Sergeant Kate Brannon. Do I have the correct number?”
Gina’s heart pounded and her palms were slick. “Yes. I’m Gina.”
“Good. Glad I didn’t call the wrong person.” She chuckled. “Kate said you needed to talk to someone.”
“She…did she…”
“She didn’t tell me what about. I prefer to meet with people and find out their stories from them. Not from others. All she told me was that you were left with some scars.”
“Yes,” Gina whispered. A small track of bubbles slid down the tile, racing toward the grout-filled depression. It clung to the coarse filler like a climber clinging to a wall without a safety rope. Any moment its grip would fail and it would tumble and fall to the ground. Gina looked at her own feet, and for a split second she couldn’t see the ground. There was nothing beneath her but empty air, and the sensation of falling was unmistakable. She groped around for something to hold on to. All she could find was the smooth porcelain of the sink. She clung tight until her knuckles turned as white as the pot.
“Well, okay. Would you like to meet up so that we can discuss what you need and whether or not you think I’m the person to help you?”
Jodi’s voice sounded distant and distorted. Like Gina was listening to it through water. She took a deep breath. Get a grip. How do you expect Sammy to talk about her issues if you won’t even try? She coughed to clear her throat. “Yes, I think that would be a good idea.”
“Excellent. How about tomorrow? Say eleven o’clock?”
“Less time for me to chicken out?”
Jodi laughed. “Something like that.” She paused. “Do you want to chicken out, Gina?”
“What I want is to not need to talk to you. Not that that matters, or even makes much sense. But that’s what I want. I want to not need to do this.”
“I understand that completely. Time travel isn’t something I can help with, I’m afraid. But believe me, there was a time when I felt exactly the same as you do right now. When I just wanted the rest of the world to fuck off and leave me alone to wallow in my own self-pity. But there was someone out there who wouldn’t let me. She showed me that it can get better. That I could get better if I wanted it enough.”
“She sounds pretty awesome.”
“She is.”
Gina could hear the smile in her voice. “Are you still together?”
“Sadly, we never were together in the way you mean.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Please don’t be. It wasn’t meant to be. So tomorrow?”
“Where do I need to go?”
Jodi quickly gave her the address at King’s Lynn’s hospital. “I know it’s easy to say, but try not to worry about tomorrow. I promise, I don’t bite, and eventually it will help.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for that.”
Jodi laughed. “Only until tomorrow.”
Gina frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ll see tomorrow. Bye, Gina.”
Gina hung up and sat heavily on the bed. She glanced down at her chest. Even through the thick fleece jumper and coat she wore, she still felt like she could see the scars. She could still feel them as they were cut into her skin. That cold tickle that turned to fire down each nerve ending. Searing them into her soul as they branded her flesh, and the memories came flooding back. She lay down on the bed and curled into a ball as tight as she could.
Memories of Ally standing in the middle of her sitting room after shoving her on the sofa. Demanding to know where Matt was. Her inability to convince the woman only made Ally angrier. And bolder.
Gina couldn’t forget the smell. The pungent aroma of her own fear mingled with sea salt, diesel, and dead fish that had permeated Ally’s clothes a long time ago.
Ally had laughed at her. Tried to goad her into letting Matt’s location slip. And only Gina’s sense of self-preservation managed to muzzle her pride as it squawked loudly.
But that hadn’t been nearly enough to stop Ally Robbins. Nor had it stopped Gina from realising that it was Ally who had killed Connie, and telling her so.
Ally had laughed, but there had been something in her eyes, a flicker, a shadow, a ripple in the dead pools that glinted out at her. Fear. “You shouldn’t be going around slandering people like that, Gina. It could get you into all sorts of trouble,” she�
�d said, then pulled a gutting knife from her belt.
Gina had frozen.
“Come on, Gina. Where is he?”
Gina had shook her head. Her eyes fixed on the blade. The blade that was going to change her life. She’d thought death was the worst thing Ally could do to her then. Clearly Ally had a much better imagination than she did as she made promises and tried to cajole the information she wanted from Gina. Promises to leave her alone with nothing more than a little piss in her pants before Sammy got home. Or to start practising her knife skills. She’d promised crying, and blood, and then talking. Ally had put the tip of the blade to the corner of Gina’s mouth and scraped the cold steel along her cheek, hard enough to feel, but not hard enough to draw blood. And made her final promise if Gina remained silent.
Ally had wrapped her fingers in Gina’s hair and twisted her head to look her straight in the eye. “We wait a few hours for the tide. And then I’ll take you out on the boat.” She’d smiled and Gina watched spittle collect at the corner of her mouth. “Ask me what comes next, Gina,” she’d said quietly.
Gina couldn’t work up enough saliva to make her voice work.
“Ask me!”
“What comes next?” Gina had whispered, her voice shaking, crawling past her lips with barely enough force to be audible.
“Bait.” Ally had whispered the word into her ear. Slow and low, dragging it out so it sounded like “Bay” and “T”.
Even now, all she could see was the bait station that was on Ally’s fishing boat. The steel table covered in chopped fish, guts, and dried blood. The wicked grinder bolted into place and designed to chop up frozen fish leftovers to use as bait. The noise was horrendous, and the bite of the grinder unforgiving. Bones, sinew, muscle, it all broke apart beneath the power of it. And that was all she could see. That and the dead eyes of the fish at one corner. Mouth hanging open, slimy, and its black, dead eyes covered in a film of mucus.
Tears ran down Gina’s cheeks as she hugged her knees to her chest. Even then it hadn’t been over. She wished it had been. That Kate and the police had come barging in to rescue her then, but they hadn’t. Ally had yet more questions to ask. More games to play.
“Try not to worry, she says.” Gina snorted. “Yeah, like that’s not going to happen.” She swiped at the tear on her cheek and grabbed a pillow to stuff under her head. The whirring of the extractor fan reminded her of what she’d been doing. “Fuck it. Who gives a shit?”
She curled her arm around the pillow and let the tears come.
CHAPTER 14
Kate didn’t turn off the engine as Diana Lodge climbed out of the car and waved goodbye from the door. She dropped her phone into the cradle and waited for it to connect to the car’s on-board system. “Call Stella,” she instructed when it beeped at her.
“Genie of the Lamp, how can I direct your wishes today?” Stella’s voice sounded like the secretary from every bad office movie ever made: dripping with condescending sweetness with an acidic underbite.
Kate burst out laughing. “What bet did you lose now?”
“You don’t want to know.”
She crossed the junction and took the back road from Brancaster to Docking. Keeping off the coast road was always quicker. Far less scenic, but quicker. Besides, there was bugger all to see on the scenic road today. The tide was out, the cloud was down, and the sun was already gone. Not worth the extra twenty-minute drive.
“Oh, I really do, Stella. Come on, spit it out.”
Stella remained silent.
“You know the boys will tell me later with their spin on it. You may as well get it out of the way.”
“The colour of Tom’s underwear.”
Kate tried to imagine what possible conversation or scenario had led to that bet. “You’re right, I don’t want to know. We’ve got work to do, Lady of the Lamp.”
“It’s Genie, you heathen.”
“I prefer Lady. More classy, Stella. Fits you better.”
“Gee, thanks. Now what do want?”
“We’ve got three no-shows from Brancombe House today, and a shit load of data that seems to lead us to an embezzlement case.”
“How does it link to our body and all those autopsies we’ve got Ruth Anderson looking into?”
“At this moment in time, Stella, I haven’t got a fucking clue. It’s a rat’s nest of shit. That’s all I know.”
“And what do you need from me?”
“The addresses of our absent employees and a run-down on them all.”
“Okay,” she said. The rustling of paper, indicating she was reaching for her pad. “Hit me.”
“You shouldn’t make an offer like that with the way your luck’s going at the moment.”
Stella sighed, but said nothing.
Kate laughed and pulled up outside the convenience shop. She pulled a fiver from her wallet and handed it to Gareth, pointing at the takeaway coffee sign, and added what she hoped was a pleading look to her face.
Gareth took the note, rolled his eyes, and closed the door behind him.
“Okay, okay. Enough fun. Tim Warburton. Left early this morning—asked for a day’s holiday after spending the night at the hospital with his wife after she had a fall.”
“Isn’t he the domestic disturbance dude that’s never had a charge?”
“That’s the one.”
“Bastard.”
Kate didn’t disagree.
“Okay. So what do you want on him?”
“Education background, family links, financials. Everything we can get our mitts on. Same for all of these please.”
“Got it. Next name?”
“Maja Hanin. H-A-N-I-N.”
“Foreign national?”
“Eastern European. Polish, Czech maybe. Something like that anyway. Diana Lodge said she had an asthma attack on site yesterday, so she thinks it’s legit, but—”
“You can’t be too careful. You said three?”
“Yes. David Bale. The grandson of Edward Bale.”
“As in underpants Edward Bale?” Stella asked, referring to the scrap of underwear that had been found on the remains in the bunker.
“One and the same.”
“Ooh. Now isn’t that interesting?”
“It gets more so. He’s worked there for five years. He started as a weekend worker while he was at college and paid his wages towards his grandfather’s care.”
“Any idea why?”
“Not yet. Send me whatever you find out and I’ll fill you in on the embezzlement when we get there. This guy lives in Lynn so we’ll drop the flash drive off to Grimshaw to get working on.”
“Sounds like a plan. Don’t spill your coffee while you’re driving.”
“I would never defile my pride and joy like that.” She chuckled and pressed the button to hang up as Gareth came out of the shop, paper cups in hand. She reached over to take them as he climbed in. “Thanks.”
“No worries.”
She took a sip, careful to avoid burning her tongue with the hot liquid before stowing it in the holder and pulling away from the kerb.
“Do you think she’s being straight with us?” Gareth asked as she approached the tight bend through the village of Flitcham.
“Who? Diana Lodge?”
He nodded.
Kate shrugged. “As far as I can see, she personally has much more to gain from being cooperative with us than not. She wasn’t there when our vic went missing, nor when the funds were redirected from Brancombe House.” She slowed for the junction at Hillington and indicated right towards King’s Lynn, before surging across the road to avoid getting stuck behind a car towing a caravan. Bloody menace on the roads. “So I don’t see any reason for her to lie to us.”
“People lie to us just because we’re us, sarge.”
“Hm. True, I suppose. Sad, isn’t?”
“Yeah.”
They travelled the rest of the way in silence.
Kate stopped in the car park at the police station a
nd handed Gareth the flash drive. “Will you run that in to Grimshaw and get him to start analysing the data on it? Tell him we need it as soon as possible. If not sooner.” She winked.
“Got it, sarge.” He took off walking as quickly as he could without looking like one of those Olympic walkers with the hip swing and runner’s arms.
She picked up her phone and opened her message program. She clicked on Gina’s name and started to type.
Thinking of you. Hope you’re okay. Dinner tonight? xx
Kate hit send, put the phone back in its cradle and turned the car around. She wanted to be ready when Collier got back.
Your place? Merlin must’ve forgotten what you look like ;-) xx
Works for me. You know where the spare is if I’m running late. xx
Gareth was jogging back across the car park. She playfully gunned the engine and grinned at him.
He shook his head. “Sarge, I say this with the utmost respect, but you’re a maniac behind the wheel.”
“Maniac?”
He nodded.
“Oh, kiddo, you ain’t seen nothing yet. I’ve been on my best behaviour!”
He gulped loudly and pulled his phone out of his pocket.
“What’re you doing now?”
“I’ve got 3G, I was going to improve my life insurance.”
“Funny, Collier. Funny.” She threw the stick into gear and tore out of the car park, enjoying tossing Gareth around the car a little bit with a little wild steering. Teach him to take the piss out of my mad skills.
The closest address was for Maja Hanin, who lived in a flat just out of the town centre. The house was a converted old terrace, in the middle of the row, and was more than a little run down. The property to the left was boarded up with brown steel plates. No doubt to keep out vagrants and kids alike. The stippled render on the outside of the building was chipped and in desperate need of a coat of paint. The only properties on the street that looked well cared for were the off-licence and the kebab shop. It said all Kate needed to know about the area.
She climbed the deep concrete steps to the doorway. There were still some nice period features visible. The black-and-white mosaic tiled floor in the porch spoke of the former glory years of the house—when it was probably the family home to a wealthy, middle-class family. Maybe they’d had a servant or two downstairs to see to the family’s needs. But that was clearly a very, very long time ago.
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