by Bo Brennan
Tracey rested her hand on her growing belly and smiled. This baby was all of their golden tickets out of that hell hole.
“At least tell me how far gone you are,” the social worker said. “Do you even know?”
Tracey shrugged. Far enough, she thought. She'd been in the system long enough to know how to work it. The system sucked. It had given her plenty of experience at sucking too, given her jaw ache. Well now it was their turn to suck. She smiled as she saw the hospital complex in the distance. Imagined a future where her jaw ached from smiling instead of giving head to dirty old men in thanks. After today, she'd never have to go back to that house again. Except, of course, to get Sasha and Melissa.
St James’s Psychiatric Hospital, Hampshire..
“I made it up.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” India Kane leaned forward in her chair. “Look me in the eye and say that.”
Lisa Lewis couldn't even look up, let alone look her in the eye.
India took a deep breath, crossed her arms, and sat back in her seat, staring at the top of the woman's head. “Want to tell me what game we're playing here?”
“This isn't a game, this is my life,” Lisa snapped. “The doctors are right, I haven't been well. There never was a baby. Billy does not exist.”
“And what about Sasha. Does she exist?”
Lisa swallowed hard and nodded slowly. “I made her unwell.”
India shook her head in frustration, and glanced around the day room. Catching sight of the crazy bitch eyeballing her from the corner, she gritted her teeth, and said, “Have you been listening to mental bloody Mary over there?”
Lisa hugged herself and frowned. “No. I just accepted the truth. Why is that so hard for you to accept? You don't even know me.”
India reached into her handbag and tossed the transparent evidence bag under Lisa's nose. When the supposedly good mother turned her head away, India’s eyes narrowed and her jaw clenched. She stood up, snatched baby Billy's birth band back off the table, and said, “I tell you what I do fucking know, if you're not prepared to fight for your kids then they're better off without you.”
New Scotland Yard, London.
Colt raised his eyebrows when Maggie handed him the slip of paper. “Now there's a turn up for the books,” he said leaning back in his seat. “We turned up anything on this van yet?”
“Yes and no,” Mags said. “The registration comes back in the name of a company, registered to a PO Box number. We’re still working on it.”
Colt drummed his fingers on his desk. “Winchester nick have been searching for this kid. She's a possible witness in the abduction of her baby brother. If I get an officer up here to observe, can you interview her first thing in the morning?”
“I'm up to my eyeballs, Boss. We still haven't found this bloody camera and we're starting the internal property searches in the morning.”
“Please, Mags. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”
Maggie sighed. “Leave it with me. I'll do a bit of juggling and make it happen.”
Colt smiled. “You're a star.”
“Yeah, the brightest one in your universe that's for sure,” she mumbled.
When his mobile started ringing, Colt frowned at the name flashing on the screen. “You want this shut?” Mags said at the door.
Colt winked at her as he answered the call, “Great minds think alike, Len. I was just about to call you. We've found Sasha Grant.”
“India will be pleased,” Len said. “You might've just diverted an office massacre and inadvertently increased Lee Sangrin's life expectancy.”
Colt laughed. “I can shred it if you want.”
“Appealing as the offer is, Jim, I'm trying to get to retirement without event. India with a bug up her arse isn’t helping.”
“I've got a specialist officer who can do the interview in the morning,” Colt said. “Is she free to attend?”
“You're keen. You must be getting it in the neck as well then,” Len said quietly. “Sasha Grant's eleven years old you know.”
“I know.”
Len let out a long sigh on the end of the line. Colt could picture him stroking his beard wistfully. “She'll be with you first thing. The sooner we get this done and dusted, the more bearable life will be for all concerned.”
“Amen to that,” Colt said.
Len chuckled on the end of the line. “Now, the reason I actually called was because I need a discreet favour.”
Colt ran his hand across his jaw and leant back in his chair. “Go on,” he said. “I'm alone and I'm listening.”
Haltingbury, London.
Kim was in a mood. She hadn't moved off the sofa, nor barked an order since they’d arrived home from school. Sasha and Melissa sat silently at the dining room table trying to do their homework. It was hard to concentrate on their studies with Tracey's empty chair between them and the Coronation Street theme tune blaring out in the background.
The tension in the house was palpable, turning the air oppressive and thick. Every time they heard the sound of the vodka bottle clinking against Kim's glass, they slunk lower into their seats.
Sasha lifted her eyes from her book when she heard the key in the front door. Both girls breathed a sigh of relief when their foster father appeared in the room. Things were better when he was around. The son didn't bother them much, and Kim usually kept her hands to herself.
He smiled as he lowered himself into Tracey's seat and peered at Sasha's book. “Lord Of The Flies,” he said. “Remind me how old you are again.”
“Eleven,” Sasha said quietly.
He raised his eyebrows, reached across the table and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Pretty and clever. You're very grown up for your age, you know that?”
“My mum...,” Sasha blurted without thinking, and then hung her head waiting for the repercussions as she heard the sofa creak.
Her foster father cupped her chin in his hand and lifted her head to face him. “You can talk to me,” he said softly. “I'm always here for you. It’s my job to keep you safe.”
Sasha gazed into his warm, sincere eyes and felt instantly safe and secure. And then he turned his attention to Melissa. “Now, you young lady, have a special birthday coming up,” he said beckoning her to him. Melissa smiled coyly and rose from her seat. “Thirteen's a big one. That's the day you become a woman,” he said pulling her onto his lap.
Sasha smiled and returned to her book as a giggly Melissa succumbed to the tickles.
Park Gate, Hampshire.
Colt stood on the end of the small pontoon, scanning the water in the last remnants of sunset. In the distance, a single yacht made its way safely home for the night. He’d have one of those in a heartbeat if it wasn’t for her obvious aversion.
Taking a swig from his bottle of Bud, he kicked off his shoes and socks, sat down, and dangled his feet in the warm water. Setting the second bottle of beer down next to him, he sighed and ran his hand over the discarded blanket, staring at the torch. Darkness was still a fair way off. If she was still afraid of the dark, he didn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell of ever getting her on a boat.
He wanted a boat. But not as much as he wanted her. All of her. He closed his eyes and tilted his face towards the fading sun, allowing its warm caress to pacify his own needs, and wondered if his unit counsellor might be able to help. Wondered if he could orchestrate a chance meeting between them tomorrow. The good news about Sasha would hopefully make her more susceptible to the idea.
The splash near his feet startled him. He jerked his head and turned his gaze on the water, feeling guilty.
“What’s up?” India said frowning at him.
Colt forced a smile. “Nothing.”
“Why d'you look like you’ve just been caught with your pants down then?” she said.
Colt laughed and stood up, holding out her blanket and a helping hand. She raised her brows and stared at him. Grinning, he turned his back as she climbed from the wat
er and covered her naked body. “Decent?” he said.
“Yep. This mine?” she said picking up the bottle of Bud.
Colt nodded and pulled her to him, India tutted as she struggled free. Taking a deep breath, he smiled, and said jovially, “You're coming to work with me in the morning.”
India took a swig from her bottle. “No, I'm not.”
Colt grinned. “Sure you are. We've found Sasha Grant. Maggie's interviewing her first thing. Didn't Len tell you?”
“Course he did,” she said. “I'm driving up.”
Colt laughed. “No you're not. I've booked you a first class ticket on the train next to me. Maggie's picking us up at the station. It's all arranged.”
India raised a shoulder. “So unarrange it.”
“Don't be daft. You can't drive; the traffic's a fucking nightmare.”
India raised her brows. “A nightmare is being stuck up there all day with your lot.”
He stared out across the water and thrust his hands in his pockets. “They’re looking forward to meeting you.”
“Why?”
Colt blew a heavy breath up his face and shrugged. “You know what? I don’t actually know why. I have no idea why they’d be remotely interested in meeting the woman their boss sleeps with. But they are. So, hey, don't knock it.”
India stared at him. “We don’t sleep together. I’m not your wife. We fuck, and you fuck off.”
Colt swallowed hard and set his jaw. Figured now wasn’t a good time to talk about counselling. In fact now was probably not a good time to talk full stop. “I guess I'll see you in the morning then,” he said.
“I guess you will.”
India switched on the torch and padded off towards her houseboat. Colt waited until she was safely inside, before shaking his head and sauntering off in the opposite direction.
Chapter 27
Thursday 21st July
London.
Tracey sat up in bed and stared at the breakfast tray containing a fresh fruit platter, wholemeal toast, porridge and orange juice. “I should've had a scan sooner,” she yawned rubbing her eyes.
“Did you sleep well?” the old man asked setting the tray down on the bedside table.
Tracey nodded as she devoured the hot buttered toast. She'd slept like a log. It was the first time she'd slept well since she'd been dumped in the system at five years old. The promises of a new mum and dad had dried up quicker than the blistered cigarette burns that covered her body. No one wanted a scarred little girl. She'd been shunted from foster family to foster family ever since. “What time's the social worker picking me up?”
The old man smiled. “When the baby's born.”
Tracey laughed. “That's two months away.”
“You can go home and get on with your life like this never happened.”
Tracey stopped eating and put the toast down. “Nah, you don't understand,” she said. “My foster family won't have a baby in the house. When do we get our own place? You know, me and the baby.”
The old man frowned. “The baby won't be going home with you.”
“What d'you mean?” Tracey covered her belly with her hands. “Of course she will. She's mine.”
The man let out a little sympathetic sigh and rubbed her shoulder. “You're just a baby yourself, you can't raise a child. She'll go to a proper mum and dad who can provide for her.”
Tracey pushed him away and scooted backwards on the bed. “I'm her mum. I'll provide for her. You're not taking my fucking baby away.”
The old man stared at her. “By getting yourself in a state you're harming the baby before she's even born. Being capable of giving birth, doesn't mean you're capable of being a mother. I'll be back to see you later when you've calmed down and thought about your actions.”
Tracey stared at the door long after the old man had locked it behind him. This, was not part of her carefully thought out plan. Gritting her teeth she lay back on the bed, thinking. Thinking about the crucial timing of her long planned pregnancy. Thinking about Melissa and Sasha, the closest thing to family she had. It was Mel's birthday soon. She'd be turning thirteen on Monday. Thirteen made her a woman. Thirteen was the fat bitch's rule.
With one hand she stroked her head, with the other she stroked the growing baby bump she'd worked so hard to conceal. She wanted this baby. Needed this baby. Longed for the unconditional love it would bring. When the scan revealed it was a girl, she'd instantly known her unborn daughter's name.
No one was taking Hope. Without Hope, there'd be nothing left for any of them to live for.
New Scotland Yard, London.
“You’re not what I expected,” DI Maggie Bevan said, giving her the once over.
“Do Detective Constables look different up here them?” India said slumping into the nearest available chair.
Maggie Bevan frowned. “That’s not what I meant.”
India knew exactly what she meant. And she wasn’t open to the sisterhood chat. As soon as the interview was over, they wouldn't see her arse for dust. She swivelled in the chair and glanced around. Aside from the po-faced, sassy blonde - this virtually empty unit with its security coded doors wasn’t exactly what she’d expected either. Her eyes fell on the office door marked DCI AJ Colt. He wasn’t in it. “Where is everyone?”
“Out doing their jobs,” Maggie said. “Like I’m supposed to be.”
India turned back to face her and pulled a pencil out of the neatly organised desk tidy. “This is your job,” she said twiddling it between her fingers.
“No, this is your job. It's nothing to do with this department,” Maggie said seizing the pencil from her fingers and returning it to the tray. “But, you're my soft touch boss’s latest flame, so I’m happy to help,” she added with a forced, exaggerated smile.
India raised her brows. “Do you imagine his soft touch, Maggie?”
“I imagine he bit off more than he could chew when he got tucked up with you,” she said as the desk phone rang.
India chuckled at the interestingly sharp banter. “We’re not exclusive. So if you want him, go and get him. But let’s be clear - you don’t know the first thing about me.”
Maggie smiled as she picked up the receiver. “I know more than you think.”
India’s jaw tightened and her eyes narrowed.
“They're downstairs,” Maggie said slamming the receiver back in the cradle. “Let's get this over and done with.”
India stared at the gaunt little girl, partially obscured by the sheer bulk of the woman Maggie was apologetically pacifying. “Hey kid, remember me?” India said making her way around the foster mother. “How you doing?”
Sasha Grant didn’t respond.
India bent down and tucked the girl’s lank hair behind her ear. Her eyes narrowed at the green and brown marks spread across her cheek. “What happened to your face?” she asked. “How'd you get that bruise?”
“She slipped in the bath,” the foster mother swiftly answered.
India snapped her head round and glared at her. “I wasn't speaking to you.” The foster mother’s eyes widened as India turned her attention back to the child. “How did you get that bruise on your face, Sasha?”
“Slipped in the bath,” she mumbled.
“You sure?” India said softly.
Sasha Grant gave a little nod, and twisted the frayed cuff of her school jumper between her fingers.
“This school uniform is really crappy,” India said touching her arm. “It’s nowhere near as nice as your usual one. Miss Davies misses you.”
Sasha finally looked up, and gave India a weak smile. This was a very different child to the one she'd met in Terri's classroom a little over a week ago. This one was broken.
“My friend Maggie Moo here wants to talk to you about your baby brother,” India said. “You remember Billy, right?”
Maggie made an annoyed grunt behind her. “Come on then,” she said pointing India to the observation room as she led the child and foster mother
into the interview suite.
At the door, Sasha Grant momentarily looked back over her shoulder, and India saw the faintest glimmer of hope in her otherwise empty eyes. “I'm going to get you home, Sasha,” she called. “Tell Maggie Moo the truth.”
Colt paced back and forth outside the High Court and checked his watch again. Maybe he was at the Old Bailey today, he was, after all, supposed to be a reporter and there wasn't much he could report from here. If he had to chase him down for this little chat, he'd probably miss India's visit. It was certainly his intention to. He'd anticipated her mood lasting, and kicked them all out of the office early, leaving Maggie to enjoy the Kane experience alone. He hoped he didn’t regret it.
He tutted and glanced up at the few stragglers hurrying to get seats before the court session began, and then he saw him. Colt stepped in front of him as he reached the court entrance and opened his jacket to reveal his badge and ID. “Got time for a coffee?”
Ryan Reynolds didn't look at the ID but his eyes widened anyway. “For the lead investigator on the Dwight Sanders investigation? Are you kidding me? Damn right I have. Hell, I'll even pay.”
Colt gestured to the coffee shop across the street. “I'm paying,” he said dully. The day a hack ever bought him more than a headache, was the day he'd go willingly to his grave. His discreet favour for Len could yield results for his own case yet. Ryan Reynolds had probably paid less money for the raid footage than Colt had paid in man hours trying to locate the bloody camera that captured it.
