Fallen Heroes

by Amy Cross

  “So what exactly did she want to be?” Ophelia asked. “An actress?”

  “Just famous. She didn't care how. Modeling seemed like the easiest way.”

  “And now she's on the news,” the first girl pointed out, “just... Famous for all the wrong reasons.”

  “That's got to suck,” Ophelia muttered, as a couple more girls arrived to leave flowers for the dead girl. Looking over at the police officer who was guarding the door to the building, she realized there was no way she could talk her way inside, but she figured she already had enough information for now. For one thing, she was starting to wonder about the guy with the newspaper connections. Whoever he was, he clearly had something to do with Sarah's murder.

  Chapter Eight

  “It's actually really fascinating,” Tim Marshall said, as he showed Laura another photo. “I'm learning a lot about London's sewer system.”

  “I never knew you were interested in that kind of thing,” she replied, as they sat on a bench in the local park, with ducks waddling past on the way to a nearby pond. “After you get your degree, are you going to go on and study at a higher level?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, smiling as he slipped the photos back into their protective wallet. His hands were shaking slightly, and as he watched the ducks for a moment he seemed a little nervous. “I'm already signed up for a trip to Prague, actually,” he continued, “with the university. We're going to see the sewer system there, and examine the ways it helped to define the layout of the whole city. I've developed a theory that the above-ground layout of a city influences the layout of the sewers at first, but that later on the reverse happens and the sewers influenced the streets. It's a lot more interesting than it sounds, if you've got time I could -”

  “Don't you miss it?” she asked suddenly, turning to him.

  “The work?”

  She nodded.

  “I was a coroner for over a decade,” he continued. “Every day, I had another body on my table. Men, women, children...” He paused, as if he was reliving those moments. “It always bothered me, and I always thought about them when I got home, but somehow I always managed to cope. Maybe I drank a little too much, maybe I had trouble sleeping, but I got by. I did alright. And then that time... Well, you were there. The day when I found that kid stuffed inside another body, during the Victoria Middleton case? Something in my soul just snapped.”

  “I remember the look on your face,” she replied. “You went completely pale. It was almost like a cartoon, the way the color drained in the blink of an eye.”

  “I ran to the bathroom and threw up,” he added, “and after that, I couldn't stop thinking about it. None of my usual coping mechanisms worked. I don't even know why that particular case got to me so much, but it did. It crawled under my skin and just... changed something deep inside. Do you know that feeling?” He turned to her. “How the hell did you manage to carry on? Didn't it affect you?”

  “Sure, it affected me.”

  “But it didn't break you?”

  She paused, before shaking her head.

  “How?” he asked.

  “I don't know,” she replied, swallowing hard. “It just... didn't. What does that say about me?”

  “Well, I'm much happier now,” he continued, forcing another smile that didn't seem quite genuine. “The answer to your question, Laura, is that no I don't miss it, not even for a moment. I always thought it was impossible to walk away, but I was wrong. When it gets to be too much, you have to make a decision. Either you let the job overwhelm you, and you let it drain you, or you go and find something else to do. Something that soothes your soul rather than destroying it.”

  They sat in silence for a moment.

  “Sounds nice,” she said eventually.

  “Elaine's pregnant,” he added. “So there's that, too. It's a little late, but we're finally starting a family. I couldn't have done that while I was still on the job. Don't you ever think about finding someone and settling down?”

  “Sure,” she replied, “I think about it.”

  “But?”

  “But...” She paused, watching the ducks for a moment. “I can't walk away,” she said finally. “It'd be like surrendering, giving up...”

  “Sometimes you have to surrender,” he pointed out. “Honestly, Laura... I'm glad I walked away from that job. It was pulling me down and dehumanizing me. Can you really deal with all that death and misery without losing more and more of your soul?”

  “I...” Another pause. “I guess I'm just lucky.”

  ***

  “Are you a complete idiot?” Halveston asked with barely-concealed fury as he stormed into Laura's office. “You thought it would be a good idea to bring Daniel Gregory in for a chat? Seriously?”

  “Did he make a complaint?” she asked, looking up from her laptop.

  “Not yet,” he replied, heading to the window and looking out for a moment, before turning back to her. “I honestly find it hard to believe that your judgment could be so poor, so completely shot to pieces, that you didn't think this through first. I mean, some degree of common sense must still exist in that head of yours!”

  “I only -”

  “You hid this from me,” he continued. “You went out of your way to make sure that I wouldn't find out what you were doing. Don't deny it, you'll only be wasting your breath.”

  “I knew you'd -”

  “I'm taking you off the case,” he snapped. “As soon as the links between the Sarah Jenkins and Natasha Simonsen murders became clear, you should have done the responsible thing and taken yourself off. You know there are rules about this sort of thing, and you sure as hell can't be trusted to remain impartial, as proven by your decision to drag Daniel Gregory in for another round of questioning.”

  “He came voluntarily -”

  “I've received a report from one of your colleagues,” he continued, interrupting her, “claiming that this case is adversely affecting your judgment.”

  “A report?” she replied, shocked by the idea. “From who?”

  “These things are confidential,” he pointed out. “What matters is that by even going near Daniel Gregory again, you've opened this department up to ridicule. Have you learned nothing over the past two years, or is your old arrogance starting to come back?”

  “Arrogance?”

  “I remember what you were like when you first joined us,” he continued. “You were one of those cocky little things who believe they're better than anyone else, and do you know what? For a while, I actually thought you might be right. You were a rising star, Laura, you were destined for the top. Even when the Daniel Gregory mess happened, I thought there was hope for you provided you regrouped and changed your approach. For a while, that seemed to be happening. You did a good job on the Longhouse case, the Middleton case, the thing with the Davey brothers... I thought you were on track. I thought your rough edges had been worn off and you had a good head on your shoulders.”

  “Sir, I -”

  “But now you're going back to your old, bad habits.” He paused for a moment. “Is it that Ophelia girl?”

  “She has nothing to do with this.”

  “So if an internal inquiry was set up,” he continued, “it wouldn't find that you've recklessly blurred personal and professional lines and let some scrawny, random little homeless girl get involved in police business? There wouldn't be even a single instance where your judgment could be called into question?”

  “It's not like that.” She paused. “So... is there going to be an inquiry?”

  “Not yet, but if you keep acting like this, someone like Adams is going to start poking about.” He sighed. “You're going to be on desk duty for a long time, Laura. I can't risk letting you back out right now. Nick Jordan will take over the Jenkins murder and you will have nothing to do with it, is that clear? I've already told him not to discuss the case with you, and if he's got any sense he'll avoid you entirely while the case is still open.”

  “Sir, that'
s completely unfair!”

  “You'll be dealing with paperwork,” he told her. “Dull, boring paperwork that you can't use as a catalyst for getting yourself into trouble. You'll come in every day at nine, and you'll work at your desk until five, and you'll be assigned the most mind-numbingly boring jobs the station has to offer. And if you manage to get it all done day in and day out, maybe we'll think about giving you one final chance to get back out there in a year or two's time.”

  “A year or two?” Panicking, she watched as he made his way back to the door. “Sir, I -”

  “And keep that Ophelia girl at arm's length,” he added, turning back to her. “I can't tell you what to do in your private life, Laura, but she's bad news. Is she still living with you?”

  “Well -”

  “Kick her out.”

  “Sir, she has nowhere else to go.”

  “Tough. That's her problem, but you don't know the first thing about her. Do you even know her real name?”

  “Well, not in so many -”

  “And do you leave computers switched on around her? Laptops lying about? Glaring security holes that someone like her could exploit?”

  “Ophelia would never snoop,” Laura replied, although she felt her stomach turn as she realized that the opposite was true: Ophelia was a grade-A snooper who had most likely already been through the house several times over. “I'll be more careful,” she added, “but I can't throw her out. She has nowhere else to go, she'd end up back on the streets.”

  “She's putting your position in jeopardy,” he replied. “If an investigation ever gets set up, that girl is a big red mark against your name. And by the way, don't think I don't know what happened at the convenience store earlier. You're on the verge of falling apart, Laura. You need to start making smarter decisions.”

  ***

  “Seriously,” Nick replied, as he took a sip of beer, “it wasn't me. I'd never have gone behind your back and told that asshole a damn thing.”

  “Then it must have been Maitland,” Laura replied, staring at her glass of red wine. “Or Broad. One of them set Halveston on me. I know I made a few enemies when the Gregory case collapsed, but I didn't think people were still out to get me. Even Tricia seemed to be avoiding me earlier.”

  “You just need to keep your head down,” he continued, taking another sip before glancing at the wine glass. “Are you on that stuff? I never thought I'd see the day when Laura Foster actually wanted to go out for a drink after work. Don't you remember all the times we used to call you up and ask you to come out with us?”

  “I can't leave my mother alone.”

  “So who's with her now?” He paused. “Let me guess. Ophelia?”

  “They get along pretty well. I don't know why, but Mum genuinely seems to like her.”

  “Well,” Nick replied, “she's got dementia, so I suppose that might affect her judgment.” He smiled as he took another sip of beer. “Sorry, was that one a bit too on-the-nose?

  “We can't be seen talking at the station,” she told him. “Halveston's worried that I'll get you to keep filling me in on the case.”

  “Fat chance.”

  “Oh, you're going to do it,” she told him.

  “I am?”

  She nodded.

  “Laura, I really don't think that's a good idea.”

  “Why not?”

  Sighing, he set his glass down. “Alright, this might sound harsh, but fine, I'll tell you. First, you look exhausted. Second, your fingernails are bitten down to the quick and you've started chewing on your pens again, which you'd stopped doing. Third, you've started drinking more. Fourth, you -”

  “Okay, I get it.”

  “Don't you trust me?”

  “Of course I trust you, but -”

  “So let me get on with the Sarah Jenkins case.” He paused for a moment. “Then again, I suppose I could use some help, but only in specific, limited ways. We're looking into reports that Sarah met some guy at a nightclub last night, so obviously that's one of our main lines. I've got someone going over the CCTV footage from the area, it's hard to believe the killer could have got her away from that place and all the way to her flat without getting caught on hundreds of cameras. In theory, all we have to do is get a decent shot, match the face to a name, and we're halfway home. Plus, I've already started going over your old notes from Natasha Simonsen's murder.”

  “And?”

  “And so far, everything looks fine. I can totally see why you thought Daniel Gregory was the killer.”

  “He was,” she replied. “And he's mixed up with Sarah Jenkins too.”

  “I got in touch with Amanda Langston in Brussels,” he continued. “She's a real person, and she confirmed that she was supposed to meet Gregory last night. She also told me that she'd been mugged and she'd spent all day at the emergency room, and she hadn't managed to get back to him. She didn't have her phone, so she couldn't get a message to him in time. So his alibi checks out completely, unless you think an MEP's assistant is somehow being coerced into lying for the guy. From what I can tell, she's a pretty respectable type, definitely not someone who'd be willing to lie for some random guy.”

  “This still doesn't feel right,” she muttered.

  “I checked her story about the mugging,” he added. “There's a police report and everything. Apparently some guy on a moped mounted the pavement and grabbed her phone and bag, and he dragged her a couple of meters in the process, so she's got a perfectly valid reason for standing Gregory up. I admit it's a coincidence that he happened to be out of town on the one night when this second murderer happened, but sometimes coincidences just pop up. There's not always something dodgy going on in the background.”

  “Give me her number,” Laura replied. “I'll take to her, maybe there's some kind of -”

  “No chance.”

  “Just a quick chat.”

  “No chance.” He sighed again. “She even told me that she's the one who got in touch with him online, and she's the one who picked the night when they should meet. There's just no chance that he manipulated things. Face it, Laura, Daniel Gregory is innocent. He definitely didn't kill Sarah Jenkins, and given the piece of thumb that was found in her stomach, I think we have to rule him out of the Natasha Simonsen case too. I know that must pain you, I know you never accepted it after the acquittal and, frankly, none of us did. But now? Now it's as plain as the nose on your face. Don't get too down about it, though. Everyone makes mistakes.”

  “This wasn't a mistake,” she replied, taking a sip of wine. “He's just... He's good. He's really good. He's thought this through and he's planned ahead, and so far everything's dropping into place for him. He's playing a very long game.”

  Nick shook his head. “You have to let go of this case,” he said firmly. “Forget about it. Hell, take a holiday.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No. You've got some leave stored up, haven't you? You'll lose those days if you don't use them.”

  “I can't go anywhere. Mum needs to be looked after all the time. It's not like I can just palm her off on someone else for a whole week.”

  “So get a hobby.”

  “Like what?”

  “Knitting? Hiking? I dunno, what do people do with their spare time these days?” He took a sip of beer. “Drinking, obviously, but that's not the best idea.”

  “I just -” Hearing her phone ringing in her pocket, she pulled it out and saw an unregistered number trying to get through. “Hello?” she asked as she answered. “Detective Laura Foster. speaking”

  Rolling his eyes, Nick took another sip of beer.

  “No,” Laura continued, “I'm sorry, she's not here right now. She has her own phone, though, if you -”

  She paused, listening to the person on the other end of the line, and slowly she began to frown.

  Sighing, Nick starting tearing up a beermat, making a little pile in the center of the table.

  “Sure, I can tell her that,” Laura said after a mome
nt, “but if you'd rather talk to her yourself, I can -”

  She paused, before setting the phone down and staring at it.

  “Got hung up on?”Nick asked. “Happens to all of us, you know.”

  “It was someone calling for Ophelia,” she replied cautiously. “I told him she had her own phone, but he said it wasn't that important. He just wanted to let her know that he's around, and for her to get in touch if she wants to see him. He said she'd know where to find him.”

  “Sounds mysterious,” Nick said with a faint smile. “Typical bloody Ophelia.”

  “It's almost as if it was someone from her past.”

  “You still don't know anything about her past, do you?”

  “No,” she whispered, staring at the phone as she realized that for the first time, she was on the verge of perhaps learning the truth about Ophelia. “Still, whoever Andrew Renton is, he seems to know her. He also said...” Before she could finish, her phone lit up as she received a text message. Opening it, she frowned again.

  “Something interesting?” Nick asked, craning his neck to see the screen.

  “It's from an unregistered number,” she replied, holding it up for him to see. “A twelve-digit code.”

  “Huh,” he replied. “You know what that is, don't you? It's one of the case file numbers they used before the system changed a while back.”

  “A case file number?”

  “Whoever just sent you that message,” he continued, “it looks like they also think you should take a glance at whatever's in that file.”

  ***

  A short while later, Laura stood in one of the old archive rooms at the police station and took the lid of a cardboard box she'd found at the bottom of a dusty set of shelves. On the side of the box, in faded black letters, was the twelve-digit code from the text message. Reaching inside, she took out a series of photographs.