Playlist for a Paper Angel (DS Jan Pearce Crime Fiction Series Book 3)

by Jacqueline Ward

  “Sal? Are you there?”

  I wait. She’ll lure him. With anything she can.

  “Come on, Sal. Aiden’s here. He wants to talk to you.”

  I can hear him saying, “is that dad” and “when’s he coming back?” I can hear Aiden. I can hear voices talking quickly in Italian. I picture the scene. Sal’s mum’s kitchen. There’s a momentary pang of guilt when I realize that another mother has lost her son. Then I strike.

  “It’s not Sal. It’s Jan.”

  More silence. The background noise is clearer now, and I hear Aiden’s laugh. My heart sinks when I think of him hearing that his father is dead, but just in time I remember that none of this is my fault. That Sal made all the decisions. It was he who involved Aiden. Not me. And I’ll always be here to comfort him. Selena speaks.

  “Really?”

  She’s careful. Careful not to let my own son know it’s me. I take a deep breath.

  “I’ve got some bad news about Salvador. He’s dead. He shot someone and—”

  She’s dropped the phone. I hope beyond all hope that Aiden will pick it up, but he doesn’t. She’s back on the line.

  “I don’t know. I’ll make sure that happens.”

  She’s bluffing. She’s saying that so my son won’t know what’s happened. I end the call. I’m glad she knows. I take the battery and the SIM card out of the phone and push them deep into my jacket pocket. I start to book a ticket to Sicily but stop before I pay for it. I need to wait. To see what happens. If I move too quickly, Connelly might slip through my fingers. This way it can all be out in the open. I can suggest that Aiden is in Sicily with Sal’s parents, and Interpol will do the work for me. Right on cue, my phone rings with an Italian number. I let it ring to voice mail. No message left. Of course.

  I go to the operations room and log onto a computer and post an entry in the Connelly case file. I tell them that I’ve had a call from Italy, where Sal’s parents live, and that I strongly suspect Aiden is there right now. It’s right below the logging of Sal’s misdemeanor, where all eyes will be at the moment, watching for any international connections.

  No more secrets. And they’ll bring my son back to me.

  Chapter 37

  I hurry to catch up with Damien, and we go to interview Annie, but there really is no point. It’s a long string of no comments, and she doesn’t want a solicitor. One of the forensics officers calls me to tell me that they’ve got evidence of Dara being in the house. Her pink cardigan was found among the clothes in the cellar, and it’s been identified by Marc Price. He also tells me that any other bodies may have been disposed of in the quarry, and that he will arrange for a specialist team to excavate.

  I’m still reeling from recent events, the realization of the extent of Annie Smith’s crimes, and that they went undiscovered for so long.

  I go to talk to Lisa. When I find her, she’s sitting alone in a stark interview room. She looks tiny behind the wide table. I pull a chair around. How times change.

  “Lisa. How are you?”

  She smiles.

  “Better, thanks. Lorraine got me some breakfast. And they let me have a shower after they, well, you know.”

  I look at her. She has no idea where her next meal is coming from or where she will sleep tonight. I expect Lorraine will work something out for her and Elise.

  “Great. Lorraine’s prepared a statement based on what you’ve told her and the information from the rape investigation unit. Please could you read it and sign every page. If there’s anything else, let me know.”

  She reads the statement slowly and carefully. Then she signs it.

  “That’s all. Is the kid all right? Dara?”

  I think back. She couldn’t know it wasn’t Dara.

  “It wasn’t her.”

  She looks blankly at me.

  “So where is she then?”

  I shake my head.

  “I don’t know. She could be anywhere by now. I just don’t know, Lisa.”

  “Do you know what’s happened yet? Why they . . .”

  I make a judgment call. Why should I tell her? After she was so stupid to leave her child with just anyone. Anyone who turned out to be a murderer? But on the other hand, she should know. To stop her from doing it again.

  “We don’t know for sure, but we think they were taking children for live organ donations.”

  “Like kidneys? Livers?”

  “Mmm. They were checking suitability by taking blood. The kids we found in the cellar apparently weren’t matches.”

  She pauses and plays with her hair.

  “Elise had a plaster. On her elbow. Was she . . . ?”

  “We don’t know because we don’t know her blood group. But the chances are she was a match.”

  Stop it, Jan. Stop it. You’re punishing her now.

  “Fucking hell. So she would have died. Fucking hell. How were they getting away with it?”

  I can feel my temper rising. Work it out for yourself, Lisa. Work it out. But she doesn’t.

  “She was grooming desperate young ladies.”

  “Like me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Losers like me?”

  She’s challenging me now.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You don’t have to. You don’t fucking have to. Even after you’ve seen the state of me, and read what I’ve told Lorraine. Even after Jameson’s shot your fucking partner. You still think it’s all my fault.”

  This is why I’m a police officer. This is why. I want to get up and shake her and slap her for disrespecting Mike. I could scream at her that it wasn’t Jameson, it was my ex-husband. But I stay calm.

  “You could have taken Elise and walked away.”

  She’s shouting now.

  “But to where? Where, Jan? Really? Where do you go with a baby when you’re nobody? I’m nobody. I don’t have an identity. I can only just remember what my real name is. Where do I go without benefits or ID? It’s all right for you to say that, with your nice house and your family. You’ll never understand.”

  It is all right for me. It’s true. I have got a home to go to. But we’re both separated from our children in this moment. Maybe we will both be reunited, but, like before, it’s the same deep-rooted pain.

  Lorraine pops her head around the door.

  “All done?”

  Her eyes are still red rimmed and, as her friend, I can tell she’s putting on a brave face. I stand up.

  “Yes. We’re done here.”

  And we are. There’s no more I can say to Lisa, no more understanding I can give her. She’s an integral part of the case against Jameson, and now I have to investigate it impartially. She follows us to the desk, and Stan checks us out silently. There’s a collection bucket on the desk for Della and the children. The fundraisers have started already.

  Lorraine drives us to the assessment center, where Lisa will meet Elise.

  “If this is all right with you, Lisa, I’ve arranged for you to have temporary accommodation in the mums and babies unit. It’s a kind of sheltered accommodation, until you’re ready to go out into the world. Fully equipped. You’ll like it. There are other mums. You’ll get support with Elise.”

  Lisa’s suddenly alert.

  “Support? Why? What’s wrong with her?”

  Lorraine side glances at me. I let her fill Lisa in.

  “You must have noticed that she’s got some learning difficulties. She’s not speaking properly, and her legs aren’t fully developed. So we can help you. Get back on track.”

  I look at Lisa in the rearview mirror. At first I think she’s just staring out the window, not listening. Then I see her brush away a tear. She’s crying. Half of me thinks she should be, and half of me wants to hug her. We reach the assessment center and get out. Lisa hangs about around the car. Finally, she speaks.

  “Who was the girl who overdosed? I overheard that someone overdosed. Is she OK?”

  Lorraine nods.

  “Ev
a. That’s all we know. And, no, I’m sorry, Lisa, she’s not OK.”

  She stares at her feet.

  “She took the pills.”

  I turn to her now.

  “What pills? You didn’t mention any pills in your statement.”

  “They gave us all drugs. That’s how we managed to put up with it. Even in the club. I wasn’t taking drugs because I wanted to, to get a buzz. It was to blank it out.”

  I stare at her now. Finally, I feel sorry for her.

  “The men. The cruelty. The horror. And to keep awake through the night. And later on, just to forget what we’d seen. So I’m not a scag head, and neither was she.”

  Lorraine puts her arm around her.

  “Look, Lisa. No one’s judging you. We’ll get you some counseling, some therapy. I know it’s never going to make you forget, but hopefully we’ll find these scumbags, and you’ll help us to put them behind bars.”

  She shakes her head.

  “But you can’t be with me 24-7. They’ll come after me because Jameson knows this is all my fault. It’s Declan all over again. And don’t say witness protection. They’re after me, too, because I ran with Elise. You know that, Jan. You put me there, in that safe house”

  We go inside and wait for Elise. She hasn’t arrived yet, and Lorraine goes off to complete the paperwork. Lisa brings out a phone and looks at it.

  “Lorraine gave me this. Not much use if you haven’t got any contacts.”

  I take it from her and add my mobile number.

  “Give me a call anytime. We can swap bad parenting tips.”

  She smiles a little.

  “If it’s any consolation, my son’s missing. He’s . . .”

  I stop short of telling her that he’s with his father’s girlfriend, whom he seems to prefer, and the family Lisa is running from. The Connellys.

  She doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. I suddenly remember the playlist.

  “I listened to it, you know.”

  She nods.

  “Mmm. Well you must have. To have known what my tweet meant.”

  “I thought I could feel what you were going through. Your pain.”

  She snorts.

  “Really? You’ve kept that well-hidden.”

  “Yeah. The thing is, Lisa, we’re very different. But we’re both women, mothers. And I could feel your love for Elise.”

  She turns the phone over in her hands.

  “It’s not just Elise. That list has songs from my mum’s playlist.”

  I laugh.

  “Well, I did wonder about the Sinead O’Connor song. Where’s your mum now?”

  “She’s dead. Choked on her own vomit. On the surface, I hate her. I can’t ever forgive her for what she did. But whenever I hear those songs, it’s like she’s in them, somehow.

  “They caught me, you know. They caught me sending that message. And when they asked me for my password, I gave them hers. She had such awful taste in music, mutton dressed as lamb, she was. So bad that they believed me. So I suppose, in the end, she saved my life.”

  It’s the first time she’s really opened up. She still looks desperate and skinny, but I’m warming to her. I share with her in an attempt to connect.

  “My mum liked Cliff Richards. She died years ago. My dad died just after. They’d both been ill a long time, older parents. Didn’t have me until they were nearly forty.”

  “At least they cared about you. Like you care about your kid. Fretting for him. I bet you’ll do what’s best for him, no matter what, just like I did. D’you know where Droylsden is from here, by the way?”

  I don’t get chance to answer. Lorraine reappears now, all excited.

  “Elise is on her way now. She’ll be here in a second.”

  We all wait in silence. Eventually, the swing doors open automatically and a dark-haired woman pushes her through into the room. Lisa walks over and bends down in front of the pram. She kisses Elise, and Elise touches her face.

  “Mummy. Mummy.”

  Lorraine wipes away a tear, and Lisa lifts Elise out of the pram. She’s crying, and Elise hugs her tightly.

  “Mummy cry?”

  Lisa puts her down, and she toddles around, much more inquisitive than she was earlier in the week. Lorraine gets Lisa to sign some paperwork and then starts to give her schedules for parent-craft classes. I go to the corner of the room and phone Damien.

  “Anything new?”

  I hear the strain in his voice.

  “Not really. No trace of Jameson. The club’s shut, and there’s no one at his home address. They’ll be long gone now. Setting up their operation somewhere else. We’ve referred it to NCA now, and they’ll take it over. Annie’s still not speaking, so we’ve taken her to the cells ready for magistrate’s court later on. Your guys in surveillance are tracking Stevens’s movements this week. Looking for Dara. What about you?”

  I take a deep breath.

  “Yeah. I’m getting there. Still a bit shell-shocked. Listen. If you’re not doing anything, I thought you could come round tonight. Friday night, bottle of wine, and some case notes. If you’re free, of course.”

  There’s a long silence.

  “I’d like that, Jan. I’d really like that. Thank you.”

  I can feel my face on fire. But I don’t want to be alone.

  “OK. See you later then. I’ll be back at the station soon. Business as usual.”

  “Business as usual.”

  I end the call. Straightaway I see a text from my contact at Interpol.

  Negative. Address in Catania searched but no sign of Aiden Margiotti or Selena Evans. We’ll issue an alert for them.

  They’ve gone. Sal would have had a plan B, and now Selena is on the run with my son. I text back.

  Thanks for that. Keep me informed.

  I look around the room. Lorraine’s fussing over the lady who brought Elise back, and Lisa is looking at her phone and has her earphones in. Elise has wandered over to a blank computer monitor, and she’s staring up at it. I walk over and bend down in front of Elise. She’s a sweet little thing. Lisa doesn’t move for a moment, then she pulls out the earphones.

  “Pretty special, isn’t she? I can’t believe I made her.”

  Her voice sounds choked, but her face is unemotional.

  “Well, you’ve got a chance now to make her life better. To do the right thing. You’ve both escaped, so make it good.”

  She nods. Lorraine comes over.

  “Right. It’s all settled. I’ve arranged for the flat to be ready for you immediately. Someone’s going to come over with some shopping and some clothes, about an eight are you, Lisa? Then later on today, someone will come to take your details for your housing benefit claim. Someone’s already donated some toys for Elise. It’s all so exciting, isn’t it?”

  Of course, I know this is all diversion tactics for Lorraine. Something joyful before we all have to go through the horrific details of Operation Hawk. Proof of the fairy godmother and the beautiful princess and everything good, before we have to face the wicked witch. Lorraine pushes Elise through the swing doors, and I walk beside her. Lisa’s behind us, earplugs in again.

  “What’s next, Jan?”

  I sigh. I know what’s next for me. More searching for Connelly. More waiting for news of Aiden. Hoping that Selena looks after him. Hoping he comes home. But she doesn’t mean that.

  “Try to piece together what’s happened to those kids. Try to trace Ian Stevens’ footsteps. Find out what was happening at Pit Lane. I don’t know. But one thing’s for sure, it’ll be a lot easier without Jim Stewart hanging around. Poor policing, that was.”

  I almost add that I should have done something about him when I knew he let Sal into his life, but I don’t. It’ll keep for the inquiry.

  We reach the car and turn around. Lisa’s gone. I know when I watch the CCTV back, she’ll have dropped into the dim light around the corner and hurried off into the distance. I bend down and look at Elise, and we’re back a
t the beginning, a stark reminder, as if I needed one, of fragile relationships and limited choices. We get Elise into the car seat and begin the drive back to the foster family. I sit in the back with her with one earphone in my ear and the other in hers, the playlist between us, and my mind still on finding my son.

  THE END

  Playlist for a Paper Angel

  How Long Will I Love You

  Ellie Goulding

  Make You Feel My Love

  Adele

  Teardrop

  Massive Attack

  The A Team

  Ed Sheeran

  Days

  Kirsty MacColl

  Black Boys on Mopeds

  Sinead O’Connor

  My Friend Goodbye

  Thea Gilmore

  Good Riddance

  GreenDay

  Ribbons Undone

  Tori Amos

  Angel

  Sarah McLachlan

  Love My Life

  Robbie Williams

  Für Elise

  Ludwig Van Beethoven

  Listen to the playlist on Spotify http://spoti.fi/2eQh1bg.

  Jacqueline Ward lives in Manchester in the North of England and is the author of several short stories and a speculative fiction novel, SmartYellow, under the pen name of J. A. Christy. She holds a PhD in narrative psychology and storytelling and is also a screenwriter. Playlist for a Paper Angel is her third novel and the sequel to the 2016 bestseller Random Acts of Unkindness.

  You can find SmartYellow here

  For more about Jacqueline and the DS Jan Pearce series, and to sign up for her mailing list, go to http://www.jacquelineward.co.uk.

  Follow Jacqueline on Twitter @jacquiannc @jacquiannward

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