by J. S. Law
Bev smiled. She was always way more friendly when Sam wasn’t there.
“We’re over by the back bar, round the other side of the dance floor.”
“Cool. I’m going to come over,” said Natasha.
Bev looked skeptical. “You aren’t bringing Cox with you, are you?” she asked. “You know Sam can’t stand her, and, to be honest, I don’t want to hang with her, either.”
Natasha sighed.
“No. I’m going to have a drink with her and tell her I’m going with you guys. I’ll sort it,” said Natasha, and felt stronger for having said it aloud.
Bev nodded and passed her before stopping again and looking at Natasha.
“Maybe don’t bring Mark either?” she said.
“Tell me,” said Natasha, needing to be blunt. “It’s so obvious that there’s history between him and Sam, but what happened that’s so bad?”
Bev shrugged, then looked behind her as though checking there was no one there, or at least no one that mattered.
“She ditched him, so she says, but I don’t know for sure. He comes across like a player, all talk and bravado, no doubt about that, but I don’t think that’s really who he is. He’s a lovely guy.”
Bev looked over her shoulder again.
“I can’t tell if Sam loves him or hates him; opposite sides of the same coin, you know? And she’s never talked to me about what actually happened between them, but there’s loads of rumors about him, even about your boss fancying him, though I doubt that, she’s such a stuck-up bitch. His little girl seems to be his key focus, he’d do anything for her, and I think Sam didn’t like coming second.”
“I knew he had a little girl,” said Natasha, not sure why she felt defensive and needed to say it.
“Yeah, it’s no secret.”
“Loving his daughter isn’t a bad thing, is it?” asked Natasha.
“No, but apparently he hardly ever gets to see her, something to do with his ex’s parents, so if he gets the chance, then no matter what, he drops everything and goes. Doesn’t matter what’s planned, he goes. Look, it’s none of my business and I’ll deny I said all of this, because I don’t want the hassle, but enjoy hanging with Mark, he’s fun, but don’t get attached, okay? You’ll always come second with him, whether he admits that or not.”
“Okay,” said Natasha. She blew out some air, a long continuous stream. “Okay, but I’ll definitely catch up with you guys. Can you not leave here without me? Please. I’ll come and find you, but if you’re moving on before I do, just give me a really quick tap and I’ll come straightaway.”
Bev nodded. “Okay,” she said.
Natasha made for the door. She was struggling to focus, and her vision seemed to lag behind her eyes by a few seconds when she moved her head. She knew she’d had far more to drink than she’d probably ever had before, apart from that one time when she was fourteen and some friends at home had stolen a bottle of Caribbean rum from her mum. She and her friends had swigged it until they were so drunk that she’d spent the night in the hospital. Now, thinking about that, she imagined she could almost smell the rum, and a light sheen of sweat appeared all over her skin just at the thought of it. She left the restroom and looked to her right, toward the entrance doors that led to the fresh air outside.
As soon as Natasha realized she needed the air, her need for it became worse, and she staggered in the direction of the doors, her head swirling and her throat suddenly dry. She knew she’d need water soon, but right now it was cold air and to sit down for a few minutes that she needed even more.
“You okay? Where you going?”
It was Mark.
“Need to go outside for a minute,” she said, not stopping.
He reached for her arm.
“Tash, you okay?”
He may have sounded concerned. Natasha couldn’t be sure, nor did she care.
She shook her arm free and continued toward the door. She was going to be sick, but if she could get out of the pub and into the fresh air, she might not. Natasha had no idea how she knew that, but she did.
Mark was next to her, keeping up with her, too bloody close to her.
“Just leave me be for a minute, Mark,” she blurted, trying to get the words out in a way that didn’t sound too harsh.
He tried to put his arm round her shoulders, to guide her to the door.
“You’re all over the place,” he said. “Let me help.”
The feeling of him near her, smothering her, was too much. She’d be fine, but she needed some space.
“Just leave me be for a minute,” she said again, maybe shouted it this time. She tried to move his arm from her shoulder, stumbled, and almost fell. Someone caught her, picking her up and holding her upright.
“Back off, Coker,” said Gary Black in a loud voice.
He sounded angry, threatening, and she looked up to see him standing over her, holding her.
She wasn’t sure whether Mark said, “She’s fine” or Black said, “She’s mine,” but it didn’t matter. They both needed to just back away and give her space.
“You okay, Nat?” Black whispered in her ear. “Where do you want to go?”
“Just get off me,” she said to him, trying to jerk free but failing as he gripped her arm tight. “Get off!”
She was definitely shouting this time, and she twisted, using her free arm to elbow him in the ribs, though it had no impact at all.
“No,” he said, leaning down and speaking into her ear. “You’re not right and I’m not leaving you alone until I know you are.”
“Get off of her, you freak,” Mark said.
Natasha caught a blur of movement as Mark stepped forward to grab her away from Black. She tried to push him away, too, feeling like a rag doll between two fighting dogs. She saw Black shove Mark away, kind of a half push, half slap.
Mark came forward again, reaching for her.
Black spun her around, putting her behind him, but Natasha heard two thuds and knew that punches had been thrown.
In a second, she was free, leaning against the wall and turning back to see Mark and Black swinging at each other.
Mark was quicker, way quicker, and he easily dodged Black’s attempts to hit him and landed his own strikes at will. The problem was that they seemed to have no effect at all, just bouncing off Black, who continued to move forward, swinging and grabbing for him.
“Get him, Blacky,” came a voice from off to the side, and Natasha saw Sam watching the fight, a smile on her face as she looked across at Natasha and mouthed, “Good work” before turning back to watch.
Natasha looked down at the floor, then back at what was now a scrum near the door.
The security from the club were swarming around Black and Mark.
One bouncer was holding Mark back now, gripping him across the chest, wrapping his arms to his side and holding him off balance, while several more seemed to be crawling all over Black, hanging onto his back and trying to hold his arms as he pushed one of them across the dance floor so hard that the bouncer fell and slid on the wet, dirty floor.
The bouncer was up again and ran back to the fray, throwing himself at Black.
One of them had an arm round Gary’s neck now, gripping him like a playground bully, and was punching him repeatedly in the side of the head.
Another, the one that had been pushed away, kicked hard at the back of Black’s leg, pushing his knee forward and forcing him down onto the ground.
“Stop,” shouted Natasha, but then she felt someone grab her hand and looked up to see Sarah Cox.
“Time to go?” Sarah asked.
Natasha nodded.
“I need to use the bathroom again, though,” she said quickly. “I think I’m gonna puke.”
Sarah nodded and released her, but followed her in.
It took a few minutes for Natasha’s heartbeat to slow and the sweats to fade. She was sitting on the toilet, the lid down, her head in her hands, and Sarah was in there with her, leaning qui
etly against the door. Natasha hadn’t been sick, and that feeling had passed, the large glass of water that Sarah had given her had really hit the spot and she was starting to feel a little bit better.
“Gary Black’s been thrown out of the club, just so you know,” said Sarah.
“What about Mark?” asked Natasha.
“What about him?” said Cox.
“Is he okay? Did he get thrown out? Is he hurt?”
Cox folded her arms, Natasha could see it in the shadow that she cast onto the floor.
“I hope so,” Cox said. “I bet a punch from Black would do him some good. Knock some sense into him.”
Natasha looked up.
“He’s bad news, Tash,” said Cox, as though answering a question that Natasha hadn’t asked. “We need to stay away from him. You need to stay away from him.” Cox paused as if to let the words sink in.
Natasha looked away, grabbing her phone from her bag and checking it.
There were some unread texts and she opened one from Mark first.
Hope you’re okay. I’m kicked out. Waiting for you outside, just in case you wanted me to. Text me if you don’t and I’ll see you tomorrow. M xxx
Natasha looked up at Sarah, who was holding the door open.
“One sec,” said Natasha. She typed a reply.
Where are you now? xxx
The response was almost instant.
Outside. Look for all night cafe on your right as you leave through the main door. xxx
Natasha looked up at Sarah.
“Look, Sarah. Thank you so much for being there for me tonight, and for being a friend, but I’m going to go and meet some of the others for a while. I hope you understand.”
Sarah Cox just looked at her.
“Please be okay with this,” said Natasha.
“Sure,” said Cox. She stepped back and gestured with her arm for Natasha to leave. “Have a good night.”
Natasha made to leave.
“Keep your hand on your ha’penny,” whispered Cox as Natasha passed her.
Natasha felt a shiver run down her spine, but she kept walking without looking back.
27
Tuesday, February 3
Dan’s fists were clenched as tight as her jaw as she walked out of Cox’s cabin and into the flat, John following close behind.
She walked back to the empty cabin they’d used before, stepping inside and holding the door until John was in so she could close it herself and they could speak in private.
“How pissed off?” she said, her hands shaking. “I’ll tell you now. If that silly bitch lying to me is the difference between Moore being hurt or not, I’ll…”
She looked up at John, who was listening but saying nothing. That was unusual, he always had something to say.
“What?” she said.
He shook his head.
“Nothing.”
“There’s something.”
“I’m as angry as you are,” he said. “I took my eye off the ball, too, and I’m angry I didn’t push harder yesterday.”
Dan’s phone rang and she answered it without saying anything to John.
“Ma’am, it’s Josie. Can you talk?”
Dan took a breath, trying not to be short.
“I can.”
“Ma’am, LPT Coker didn’t go on the rugby tour. I just spoke to the tour leader. He was on the signal to go, but he canceled weeks before they left. The ship was certain that that’s where he was, so, in short, no one knows where he is.”
“Coker’s not on the rugby tour. No one knows where he is,” said Dan to John, watching as his brow furrowed at the news.
“Yes, ma’am,” Josie said.
“Josie, find him for me,” said Dan. “An address, next of kin, somewhere he might go. We need to speak to him urgently.”
“No problem, ma’am.”
“Also, a petty officer by the name of Gary Black. Find out everything you can about him and bring it down to me on Defiance as soon as you can. I want to know if he’s been the subject of investigations concerning his behavior toward female colleagues, stalking, harassment, and the like.”
“No problem.”
Dan ended the call.
“This doesn’t feel like we’re going to find her drunk in a sailors’ bar somewhere anymore, does it?” said John.
“We need to speak to Black and Coker as soon as possible. We also need to speak to Jason again.”
“Well, Black’s back,” said John. “He was stopped at the gate and turned around. I asked him to be escorted down here. He came on board a few minutes ago.”
“Let’s go see him, then,” said Dan. “And let’s go get Cox. He may want his divisional officer to sit in with him.”
“I think she already is.”
28
Natasha Moore—Mid-November (two months before disappearance)
Natasha left the club and walked out into the night air. She passed the small crowd that was still outside. He was not very far away, sitting on a plastic chair outside a fast-food shop. He raised his hand in greeting but stayed sitting.
She smiled and walked over, her mouth dropping open as she got close to him.
A blotch of red swelling under his right eye spread down onto his cheek and made his fairly recent scar look angry and puckered again.
“Gary managed to hit you, then?” she asked, pulling up a flimsy chair and sitting across from him.
He shook his head.
“It wasn’t Gary, it was one of the bouncers. Prick cheap-shotted me during the scuffle. Hurts like hell, too.”
He reached up and dabbed at it gently.
“Every time we go out together you get your face injured,” Natasha said, reaching over and taking a swig of the beer on the table in front of him. “Maybe we just shouldn’t hang out together.”
He smiled, more of a grimace, and shook his head.
“Someone’s got it in for one of us, that’s for sure,” he said.
“Did you see what happened to Gary?” she asked, looking at the streets around her.
“Yeah. They threw me out first. I guess he was a little harder to shift. He walked off down that way.”
Mark pointed over his shoulder along the strip, in the opposite direction from the dockyard.
Natasha looked where he was pointing, checking out the lights and bars almost as far as the eye could see, but she didn’t see Black lurking anywhere.
“Did he leave alone?” she asked.
Mark nodded, picking up his beer and draining the bottle.
“You want one?” he asked.
“I’ve probably had enough,” she said.
He shrugged.
“Want a softie, then? Coke? Lemonade?”
Natasha looked into the café, at the kebab meat browning on the spit and the people hustling around it.
“You know, I will have a beer, but only as long as they’re cold, okay? If they aren’t cold, like properly cold, then just grab me a Diet Coke.”
He nodded and was gone.
A movement off to her right caught her eye. It was a fair distance away and was suddenly lost in the bustle of passing drinkers, loud girls in white heels, and a group of lads carrying long tubelike glasses from the yard-of-ale challenge.
She was almost certain someone had been there, watching her, and then stepped back into the shadow.
“What’s up?” asked Mark, placing a beer in front of her.
“I thought I saw someone watching me.”
Mark looked around, then back again, shaking his head.
“You are a bit of a hottie. I wouldn’t be surprised if people were checking you out.”
Natasha rolled her eyes and felt her beer.
It was freezing cold.
“You want me to go and check out wherever you saw them?” he asked.
Natasha shook her head, taking a shallow swig of the beer.
She sneaked a glance at Mark as he looked around. He was handsome and muscular, not overbig like
Gary, but in proportion. His pecs pressed against his shirt as he craned his neck, and Natasha watched as his biceps pulled the material of his shirtsleeves tight.
He was everything Jason wasn’t—good-looking, funny, lighthearted—but he was also many things Jason was—dependable and sincere, and he made her feel safe.
She watched him, taking another sip and wondering if Jason could ever be any of those things to her again.
“You think it was Black?” he asked, turning to look again and seeming agitated.
“I don’t know. He’s pretty noticeable.”
“Yeah. He’s a big old unit, all right,” agreed Mark. “What do you want to do, then?” he asked. “Grab a hotel, chill out together in rampant nakedness?” He flashed her his cheekiest grin.
Natasha looked at him for a long time, smiling, not rolling her eyes as she usually did when he said something like this.
“Will you just walk back with me?” she said.
He nodded, his voice changing, sounding more serious. “Of course I will.”
They stood up together, grabbed their beers, and headed back in the direction they’d come.
The night was fully dark now and it felt much cooler.
Natasha’s feet were sore, and as they walked, she saw some soft grass running alongside the pavement and took off her heels to walk on it.
Mark looked behind them.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, but he sounded uncertain. “I thought I heard something.” He looked again. “It’s you messing with my head,” he said, and poked her playfully in the ribs.
She punched him on the arm and he rubbed it, looking wounded.
“People have been hitting me all night,” he said. “But your bony little fist hurt the most.”
They laughed and walked on.
They’d moved away from the busy strip now, and while she could still see people, there was a long empty space behind them.
The street around them looked empty, but also not empty, and Natasha realized again that she was still quite tipsy.
The grassy strip continued into what looked like a park.
Trees rose up around them and she could see what looked like a playground in the clearing just beyond where the light ended. It was dark, very dark, none of the glow from the poor street lighting making it that far. It was also silent.
