“You don’t know I let him go.”
Silence mushroomed and filled the narrow space. Bex wanted to protest, yet digging back over those last seconds with Griffin brought only a dazed memory. She had no actual recall of what happened just before she was knocked unconscious.
“You stand there and think it’s easy to be moralistic when you live a safe life on the right side of the law. Try being seventeen and ripped away from any support network simply because you don’t want to become as evil as your family and live on the misery of others like they do. Try finding a moral compass when it’s all you can do to stay alive.”
The stinging words were flung at Bex like caustic acid. Bex’s own suffering gave her a keener understanding of the pain underlying Remy’s anger.
“What happened to chase you away from home?” she asked gently.
Remy’s gaze broke first and she turned her head.
“It was only home because of mum. If I’d stayed I’d be dead, just like Griffin will be if he ever goes back.”
Her lips closed firmly and Bex knew better than to pry any further.
“Without Griffin’s evidence the Loughboroughs will go free.” Bex let her frustration show.
Remy’s mouth curved in an ironic smile.
“Do you really think the police could have kept Griffin safe even if he only gave video evidence? He was grassing on his family. He would’ve been slain before he ever took the stand. That’s the sad fact of life in a criminal family.”
Bex’s suspicions returned.
“Was it you who leaked information to Trending News?”
The color of Remy’s eyes deepened like murky water as she considered Bex’s question. Bex couldn’t read her, but she had a feeling that Remy knew how important the answer to this question was.
“What would you do if I was the leak?”
“That shows me you’re not putting the job first. Did you also alert Jerimiah to the spyware on his phone?”
“You really believe I ratted out the police? You couldn’t be further from the truth! I’d love to get Jerimiah and the Loughboroughs put away for good. Haven’t you got any usable evidence from those covert recordings?”
“Cole and the prosecution will have to go through the tapes to find what they can use against Jack and Morty. But they spoke in some sort of code.”
“If they haven’t changed it, I’m familiar with some of their codes. I’ll make a list for you.”
“If we could crack what they’re saying, we might be able to glean enough evidence from the tapes to prove the charges. But you realize that I’m going to have to report your relationship with Jerimiah Hudson, don’t you?”
Remy’s mouth twisted and iciness crept back into her eyes.
“If you reveal my real identity you’ll only put me in danger from Jerimiah and the Loughboroughs.”
Two men in bold green uniforms marched towards them from the end of the corridor carrying medical kits. Remy gestured them forward.
“The paramedics are here,” she said on a note of relief. “They’ll take care of you.”
“Wait, Remy! What are you going to do now?”
The shadow of a wan smile flitted over her face.
“I’m going to hand my resignation in to Titus. You haven’t left me any other choice, have you?”
* * *
As she moved past the sleeper cabins, Remy fingered the phone in her pocket. On the way to the airport she had received the first text, but she knew it wouldn’t be the last. It had been sent from the number Jerimiah had given her.
I know it was you. We’re coming for you.
Out in the thoroughfare she looked around and finally spotted her objective. She slipped the phone from her pocket, ripping out its innards and smashing the shell against the metal rim before dumping it in the trash receptacle. She pulled out her multi-tool, crimping the SIM card before throwing that in. Using a tissue, she thoroughly wiped a smudge of blood from the butterfly opening handles of her multi-tool before sliding it back into her pocket and discarding the tissue.
From a safe distance she watched the paramedics walk Bex towards the elevators and wondered why she hadn’t defended herself against Bex’s charge that she had leaked information to the press. It had hurt that Bex doubted her instead of the real culprit. As soon as Bex had realized her true identity, she had suspected all of Remy’s motives and Remy had been too proud and resentful to protest her innocence.
Turning in the opposite direction, she headed towards the escalators, her eyes blurring. A whirl of aching images from her childhood assaulted her. Bex was right, she had put other concerns above her job. This case had struck too close to her heart. No matter how much she wanted it, she had to accept that doing the right thing simply might not be in her blood.
Chapter 38
New Scotland Yard, Monday, April 9
Divided as though separated by a physical fence, members of the Youth Crimes Team and the Bridesmead CID gathered on opposite sides of one of the larger New Scotland Yard meeting rooms. They had been brought together at the end of a long day for an announcement by Chief Superintendent Vincent Titus.
When Cole slipped into the room just before Titus’s entrance, he couldn’t stop his eyes roaming the room, seeking Bex. It had become a reflexive habit when he knew she was around. He saw her behind the rest of her team, stifling a yawn. No one had stopped working since the weekend. A warrant had been drawn to search the Loughboroughs’ various business premises that had turned up a 3D printer providing a match to Kaufman’s gun.
After her overnight stay in hospital, Bex had provided a statement of evidence from Griffin. That, together with the other evidence they had collected, was enough to charge Drake with conspiracy to murder, along with Kaufman. Despite Pomphrey haunting Bridesmead all day attempting to stymy the case, the prosecution was quietly confident about the outcome. Mortimer Loughborough had been briefly hospitalized with heart palpitations, a result of losing both his grandsons.
Isla had been in court all morning putting forward arguments to request a postponement of the trial. Remy had provided a key to the Loughboroughs’ coded words, so Cole had his team feverishly scouring the covert tape recordings for additional evidence to plug the holes in the case against Jack and Mortimer when the trial resumed next month. He was quietly confident that even without Griffin’s testimony they would have a solid case to present.
But all that faded into insignificance as Cole found himself staring so hard at Bex it was a wonder she couldn’t feel the heat of his gaze. They locked eyes for several seconds before she dragged her gaze away.
The yearning in her eyes belied her protests that she didn’t want to pursue a romantic connection. Or was that his ego talking? He cursed himself for a fool. What did he have to offer her even if she agreed to see him again? His heart had never recovered from his wife’s suicide three years ago. It was simply an angry, bitter lump residing in his chest.
Her eyes sought his again and he marveled at the strength he found in their sorrowful depths. Was it possible that with her he could swim against his own particular riptide of grief?
He didn’t have time to dwell on that thought because Titus came through the door, followed by a slight man of medium height, well turned out with polished shoes and trousers creased to a knife-edge.
“I know you’re a very busy lot, so I won’t hold you up with preamble.” When he made an announcement, Titus had a voice few people could argue with. What little noise there was in the room dropped to complete silence. “I’m very pleased to introduce to you your new Superintendent, Nigel Goderich, who will be taking over the reins for Bridesmead CID and the Youth Crimes Team, as a permanent replacement for Sophie Dresden. Nigel Goderich is highly regarded in the business community and comes to us with lofty commendations and a wealth of experience that he will put to good use now that he’s joined the London Met.”
There was a smattering of claps amongst the detectives as the new man stepped forward
to stand beside Titus.
Cole inched backwards, pulled like gravity towards Bex’s orbit. As he passed Quinn, he overheard him mutter, “Bloody hell, another direct entry recruit. Is there no end to them?”
Nigel Goderich had clear eyes that swept his audience like an eagle in flight, looking for weakness.
“As Chief Superintendent Titus said, you’re a busy group so I won’t take up too much time. I do want to let you know that I have a vision for the Bridesmead borough. I believe the old ways of policing are dead. It’s time to keep moving forward into the twenty first century being flexible to meet current and future demands on our resources. I firmly believe that we can meet these challenges…”
Sidling closer to Bex, Cole lost his concentration on the new superintendent’s speech. He gave her a wink and his lopsided smile. “Good to see you standing stable on your feet again, hen. Nothing can keep you down for long, eh?”
“Damn straight,” Bex muttered out the side of her mouth. “What do you think of our new boss?”
“Well, technically he’s only going to be my boss for another week.”
He met her startled eyes with amusement swimming in his.
“You’re leaving the Met?”
“I’ve worked closely with NCA in the Loughborough case. They were impressed enough with my credentials to offer me a role in their serious crimes department.”
The National Crime Agency, its main office quartered close to Bridesmead, was England’s attempt to control organized crime on a larger scale than the metropolitan police.
“You never did get around to sidelining me like you were supposed to, but listening to our erstwhile new leader, I can’t think of a better career choice before I get shipped out in a cost-cutting exercise.”
Over the top of Cole’s lowered voice, Goderich’s politically correct speech, spouting all the corporate linguistic agility needed in today’s high flyers, continued.
Standing so close to her, his body heated with memories of her lips and hands against his and he knew he wanted to wake up next to her again. His eyes searched hers, speaking volumes. They would no longer be work colleagues and there could be no impediment to them seeing each other socially, unless she kept one in the way.
“Hippolito’s been asking when I’m going to bring you to his tapas bar again.”
He saw the instantaneous refusal rise to her lips and his chest contracted, waiting for another rebuff. Why did he persist? He was going to get screwed and not in a pleasant way. Before the rejection could pass her lips, he said, “How about cashing in that raincheck on dinner tonight? I think I’ve had a bellyful of our new superintendent.”
It was enough to make her pause. He studied her face for a reaction and saw her tension abruptly break into a small smile.
“No complications, right? Just dinner?”
He nodded his head, hardly daring to consider her words an acceptance.
“I’m going to freshen up. Meet me downstairs when the super stops talking.”
He felt his heart lift as he watched her make a beeline for the exit.
* * *
“…I encourage informality whenever appropriate to keep up moral. To that end feel free to call me God.”
Bex closed the door on Goderich’s concluding joke and made her way to the women’s bathroom. Barging through the doors, she came face to face with Isla washing her hands in the basin. No supercilious smile was forthcoming and, for the first time in their encounters, Bex felt like she had caught Isla feeling awkward. Her peaked face looked tired.
“How are you, Isla?”
Isla took her time drying her hands.
“All day my stomach felt like it’s been on the verge of heaving and I’ve had an urge to pee every ten minutes, which made leaping to my feet in court today anything but a rewarding experience. If I have eight more months of this, what’s not to love about being pregnant?”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“At least I was able to stay in court long enough to get the Loughborough case adjourned till next month. If Griffin hasn’t skipped the country he’s landed himself in real trouble. Judge Loughty flailed the skin off my bones and issued a warrant for Griffin’s arrest.”
Isla returned her attention to the mirror over the basin as she brushed color onto her pale cheeks and touched up her sultry red lips.
“Is the meeting over? Quinn and I are joining Dad for dinner to tell him the news tonight. I had a scan on Friday, so it’s definitely official.”
“I think the new superintendent is wrapping up his speech so Quinn’s probably waiting for you.”
As Isla opened her textured snakeskin shoulder bag to return her make up clutch, a plastic-wrapped box fell onto the floor tiles. Discreet letters spelled out “pregnancy test”.
“You can never have enough pregnancy tests, right? I bought three just in case. But after two tests with the same result, there wasn’t much point in doing the third one.”
Isla bent to pick up the pink and white rectangle and dump it on top of the trashed paper towels just as the door behind them burst open and Remy entered. Her guarded eyes took in the two women.
“Am I interrupting?”
Isla shook her head. “I’m on my way out.”
She gave a slight nod to Bex before leaving.
Remy’s posture was tense, the skin around her eyes looked tight, her pulled-back hair disheveled as she faced Bex.
“I’m sorry to follow you in here, but I wanted to have a private word to let you know I resigned this morning. I’ll be handing in my warrant card on Friday. I wasn’t given an official reprimand so I gather you haven’t said anything to Titus yet?”
Bex hadn’t had a chance to personally debrief Titus on the weekend’s events. Sheryl had shielded him staunchly from any attempts to storm his office, claiming he was tied up in meetings. When she tried composing an email it grew so long and unwieldy she abandoned it. Now she was glad to hear that Remy’s decision relieved her of the choice over whether or not to disclose her criminal connections. If Remy was no longer with the London Met, she could reclaim her private life as her own.
“No, I haven’t said anything, but I can’t promise I won’t say something if the investigation is compromised and we risk losing the conviction.”
A wash of queasiness roiled through her stomach and Bex moved to the basin to run some cold water, dousing her hands under the flow and splashing her face.
“Are you alright?”
“It’s been a stressful couple of weeks.”
“My mum always said pregnancy gave her tummy the collywobbles.”
Bex stared at her blankly. Remy pointed down to the pregnancy test nestled amongst the paper towels.
“Sorry, I’m sure you’re keeping it to yourself until you’re ready to tell everyone.”
“You’ve got the wrong end of the stick. I’m not remotely pregnant,” Bex said stiffly.
Remy’s expression was difficult to read.
“My mum could always pick the girls at school who got themselves into trouble, usually before the girls themselves knew they were pregnant. When I was sixteen I asked her how she could possibly know before there were any outward signs. She told me her secret. ‘You can always tell by a woman’s arse.’”
Bex continued staring at her blankly.
“It’s the pregnancy hormones you see,” Remy explained with patience. “As soon as the egg’s fertilized they kick in and the very first sign, even before a missed period, is a woman’s hips start to spread. Seeing you in these skinny jeans I could tell straight away.”
“No, you’re wrong!”
Bex felt the walls begin to spin away from her and she held onto the porcelain basin with grim determination not to faint. That would only add more fuel to Remy’s ridiculous claims. With a Herculean effort she straightened to face the other woman, brushing aside Remy’s assertion by changing the topic of conversation.
“Do you know what you’re going to do when you leave
the Met?”
Remy gave a careless shrug. “Maybe I’ll go back to studying philosophy.”
Ignoring her sarcasm, Bex scribbled her phone number on a card and held it out. “Call me if you ever need anything.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because if you really want to step out of your father’s shadow, I’m willing to help you.”
Remy’s fingers curled around the card while her eyes locked on Bex.
“Tell me, would you have let Griffin go?”
Bex returned Remy’s probing stare, not hiding her own troubled gaze.
“No, I couldn’t. Griffin conspired in a crime that caused a man’s death. It was my job to bring him to justice. Believe me, I feel for Griffin’s plight. No child should have to be in that position. But it’s not my role to pardon or condemn him. It was my job to arrest him.”
“I thought so. First and foremost, you’re a cop, aren’t you? I mean the type whose blood actually bleeds blue, not the type who comes to work for the few measly quid they pay us.”
“If you’re not driven to be a police officer, then you’re better off with a different career.”
“Why not just say you think I’m too morally challenged to be a good officer!”
“Because that’s not what I meant. If someone’s a square peg why keep trying to fit into a round hole? At the same time, there’s no reason we can’t challenge any aspects of ourselves that we want to change.”
Remy gave her a sharp-eyed look.
“Thanks for this,” she said, flicking the card into her pocket.
Then, with a knowing smile, she reached into the paper towel receptacle beside the basin. Pulling out the unopened box she slipped it into Bex’s open bag.
“Don’t forget that,” she said, disappearing out the door.
Chapter 39
Sloan Square, Monday, April 9
Idris waited just outside the circle of light thrown from a street lamp. Foxglove Mews was tucked off the main retail section of King’s Road where it intersected with the paved landscape of Sloane Square in a residential chunk filled with upmarket, architecturally ornate apartment buildings sequestered behind iron railings.
Bex Wynter Box Set 2 Page 39
