Three Weeks Dead

by Rebecca Bradley

  ‘Jason is exhausted. He needs some rest. We need some help from our Digital Investigation Unit because a lot of this is over my head. First thing in the morning, we start. We find these people and we find Jason’s wife and bring her back to her resting place.’

  8

  Sally

  * * *

  DI Hannah Robbins sat opposite her, behind a desk that Sally would have had a nervous breakdown sitting behind. There was paperwork everywhere. She didn’t know how her DI kept track of all the jobs she ran or all the tasks she had to do, all those meetings and reports. There were piles of papers and folders either side of the computer that was positioned in the centre of the desk, as well as further paperwork piled high on the floor in the corners of the room. Just looking at it made Sally want to hyperventilate, but the DI looked relaxed.

  ‘You did a great job in the interview, Sally. I hope you feel you’re settling in okay?’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am. And thank you.’

  ‘Don’t thank me, you did all the hard work. Connecting with the grieving isn’t an easy role as you already know, and when we’ve brought them in under arrest, it makes a hard job all the more difficult – but you did it.’

  She didn’t know how to react to that. She was doing her job. Just pleased that she had at least not screwed up in her first interview on the MCU.

  DI Robbins continued, ‘Because of that connection, I want you to be the one to take Jason home. Build up the trust with him and be his liaison with the unit. Keep him informed, and then, when it comes to asking him for anything, he’s more likely to be onside.’

  That was a lot of pressure. She faltered.

  ‘You can do it, Sally. And you’re not on your own. You have a whole team working with you and you’re part of that team now. We don’t work solo here. It’s all about the teamwork.’ She smiled.

  ‘Yes, of course. Of course I can take him home.’

  ‘If you want to take one of the others with you, feel free, but you have to take the lead, let him know you’re taking him. You drive him, you lead any conversation – in fact, just be the you who was in the interview earlier.’

  Sally relaxed. ‘I can be me, Ma’am.’

  * * *

  The Major Incident Room was buzzing: this was an unusual case, or so she had been told. Never in their recorded history had they had a kidnap case that involved a deceased person. In fact, they had to check the law to see if you could indeed kidnap a deceased person. They definitely had blackmail, but the removal of a dead body? Doubtful it would to be a specific offence. The books and intranet were out.

  Sally approached Martin; he was trawling through the latest edition of the Blackstone’s Manual and shaking his head. ‘What the hell gets into these people?’ he asked.

  ‘Beats me. It’s a bizarre one. I’ve never heard anything like it. Poor bloke.’

  ‘Yeah, you’re in a difficult position there. I can’t say it’s any less difficult than if they’d taken her when she was alive, if I’m honest. In fact, if I was still as grief-stricken as he was and they took my missus, I’d be out of my mind.’

  ‘You can see why he did what he did. They saw an opportunity and took quick advantage.’

  Martin looked up and grinned. ‘Too many hard-core and bloody PlayStation or Xbox games growing up?’

  ‘I think you’re right: too many zombies and not enough Disney.’

  ‘You’re a Disney girl through and through, aren’t you?’

  ‘Have you watched The Walking Dead? Nothing like a good zombie to crap your pants to before bed.’ She laughed.

  ‘My kind of girl.’ He straightened his face then. ‘Glad you’ve had a good day though. Feeling more settled? I know it’s not much fun being the new girl for the first few weeks.’

  Sally popped herself on the corner of Martin’s desk, which was the opposite of Hannah’s. Paperwork was organised. In folders and trays.

  ‘It feels more like this is where I work now, rather than this is where I’m trying to fit in and work – so, yeah. And on that note, the boss has asked that I take Jason home. I wonder if you wouldn’t mind coming with me. Make sure I don’t screw up? I wouldn’t want one good interview to go to my head or anything.’

  ‘No worries. I’ll grab my coat. And,’ he paused and looked pointedly at her. ‘Don’t worry, you’re doing fine.’

  * * *

  Gordon approached. A smile on his face that did that thing people often mentioned but which Sally hadn’t grasped the real meaning of until she found it directed at her: his smile not meeting his eyes. They were reptilian. Cold and dark. His face lean, not a spare millimetre of fat. It gave him a steely feel. All hard edges.

  ‘So, you did well in the interview, did you?’

  ‘It seems so,’ she replied as she wondered what she could have done wrong now.

  ‘I suppose something good comes out of being a female in this job then.’ His mouth stretched out into a leer.

  Sally didn’t know her terrain well enough to face him down. She didn’t know the team dynamics well enough. She didn’t know if they’d back him up and turn on her. In any other situation she’d never had put up with this. She’d have given him a verbal slap down. Given him a piece of her mind. Shown him she had more than what it took to hold her own; but rocking the boat sprang to her mind.

  ‘Yes, I suppose it does, Gordon. Knowing how to talk to people on a personal level is probably one of those things.’

  With that, she turned her back to him, to see Martin walking towards her pushing his arms through his coat sleeves.

  ‘I think you’ll need a scarf or gloves or something out there this evening, I can hear the wind blowing about and we don’t want to lose you to a chill when you’re coming into your own on the team, do we now?’ he said.

  9

  Sally

  * * *

  It was dark now. The roads were quieter and the back seat, where Jason was sitting, was a perfect example of closed-off. Sally gripped the steering wheel not knowing how to break through the wall he had built around himself. She’d been set a task by the DI because she had seen something in her, and now it looked like a fair possibility that she could fail.

  How do you talk to a man who has lost his wife, and been arrested for attempting to get her back?

  Martin was silent as he watched the world go by, out of the passenger-side window, leaving any conversation to her, as requested by DI Robbins. It wasn’t an awkward silence that emanated from Martin; he was relaxed, head back on the headrest.

  The indicator clicked loud in the silent car as she turned onto Canal Street, sliding the vehicle smoothly with the curves of the road and the rest of the traffic that trudged its way home. Here, the city looked bland, bare and uncared for. Nothing but flat grey city builds on wide roads so the traffic could flow, even at peak times.

  ‘You must be hungry, Jason?’ she asked. It was the one subject she could think of to talk about. In the interview, flow was natural; now she felt under pressure to perform.

  The silence continued for a minute, then he moved in the back, adjusted his position. ‘I don’t know. I hadn’t thought about it. Maybe, yeah. Though it’s Lewis I’m more worried about.’

  ‘Lewis?’

  ‘Lisa’s dog. My dog. My mum’s been round, but he frets.’

  ‘Oh yes, of course, I remember: Morse. We’ll not be much longer. I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you.’ The silence dropped like a weight again. Heavy and loaded.

  Soon they were crossing the Lady Bay Bridge, into West Bridgford, with its three blue-green half-wheel-shaped barriers on either side. ‘Do you know, they filmed the final defection scene of the 1980s TV series of John le Carré’s Smiley’s People on this bridge,’ she said.

  Martin sat up now. ‘Did they? How do you know something like that?’

  ‘Ah ha,’ she said, ‘my husband loves trivia. Local knowledge that makes for interesting facts. And Nottingham has quite a few of them, I tell you.’

 
; ‘I’ll keep that one – thank you very much.’

  ‘You’re welcome to it, I’ve many more where that came from. What about you, Jason, do you know much about our fair city?’

  The question was left hanging and Sally fidgeted in her seat, her brain scrambling for a topic to talk about.

  * * *

  It was a beautiful semi-detached house on Eltham Road in West Bridgford. The entrance was laid with a solid wood floor, and once through the door an excited spaniel came to greet Jason as though he hadn’t seen him for weeks rather than a matter of hours. Martin stayed in the car.

  Jason crouched to the dog and reassured him that he was home. The dog’s tail waved back and forth furiously, his tongue trying to lick away the day’s grime from his master’s face. Jason turned away, out of reach, gently, without moving from the dog’s loving welcome. He looked over to Sally with his hands around the dog.

  ‘So, you’re married as well?’

  ‘Yes. Tom. It’s good.’ She didn’t know how else to explain it. What else to say to someone who had lost the love of their life.

  ‘He’s in the job too?’

  ‘No, no. He’s not a big fan to be honest. Too many hours, too many demands. But he knows how much it means to me, so we compromise.’

  Jason patted the dog on the head and rose. ‘I understand that. I worked too hard, didn’t give enough time to Lisa. We loved the time we had, but I wished I’d made more time for her. Make time for Tom, Sally. Don’t let it become too late.’ He stared intently at her. She swallowed.

  ‘I will. I do. I will.’

  Jason smiled. ‘I know. I did.’ He walked into the living room, Lewis behind, his tail still showing his happiness at Jason’s return. Sally followed.

  The room was laid with the same solid floor as the hallway, with a thick-pile rug in the centre, with bright colours that accented rather than overwhelmed. Photographs of Jason with Lisa, and some with Lewis, surrounded the room. Smiles, destinations, sunshine, snow, landmarks. It was all here, their life, for visitors to see. For Jason to live with.

  Lewis jumped up onto one of the sofas and Jason sat beside him, his hand going straight to the top of the dog’s head, where it gently rested. With his free hand Jason indicated that Sally should take the other.

  ‘It must be incredibly difficult,’ she said. It sounded hollow in her head. Of course it was difficult. This felt like a home, and now he was here alone with just their dog for company.

  ‘You can’t imagine.’ His eyes pinched, a flicker of pain crossed his face, and his fingers bent into the fur on the top of the spaniel’s head, which made the dog look up into his master’s face. Jason tried to smile down at him but it was tight, forced.

  ‘That night it happened…’ She faltered. Hating to go there again with him. But she needed him to open up to her. To trust her. ‘When they proved they had her, I really can’t imagine, Jason, I’m so sorry.’

  10

  Jason

  * * *

  He paced the room. Lewis whined from the sofa, not daring to move, to get in the way. He stayed put and watched from his safe distance. The whining pierced Jason’s thought processes. He wanted it to stop. He shouted at the dog. Told him to stop it. Eventually the spaniel put his head down and was silent. Eyes still tracking his steps.

  The dog may have stopped whining but the noise in Jason’s head wasn’t abating. It felt like a chainsaw was grinding out the insides of his skull. He couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t focus. His body jangled. The screeching noise in his head, weaving down his nerves, made him want to scream.

  He’d thought losing Lisa had been difficult, but now he wished he could go back to the ordinary level of grief he had been feeling, because that ordinary level of grief he understood. He recognised it for what it was.

  Painful. Shocking. Unbelievable. The waiting for her to come home from work, to walk through the door. To climb into bed at night, curl up around him and slip her arm around his waist, tuck her head under his arm and talk about the plans they had. Because they always had plans, and now that he’d had none he’d felt lost.

  Lost.

  But lost was something he knew about and accepted. This was something else altogether.

  We’re sending you a photograph, they’d said. To prove we have her. A proof of life, if you will. And they’d laughed. They’d actually laughed at the irony of their own joke. Proof that they had Lisa, and they’d called it proof of life. His wife, taken from her grave and…

  His phone had vibrated in his hand as he was standing there, still on the phone to them, indicating that a message had arrived. His heart twisted in his ribcage, tearing, pulling, shredding. He twisted his shirt in his spare hand as he realised what he was about to see.

  Lisa.

  She’d been embalmed so she’d still look something like the woman he loved. How could he stand up to this?

  Slowly, he moved the phone away from his ear.

  Pausing.

  Breathing.

  His breath feeling like it was too quick, yet at the same time like it would stop.

  Or was that his heart?

  He didn’t know.

  He could hear the voice on the line. He had to move the phone so he could see.

  Lisa.

  He tried to breathe again.

  It stuck.

  His heart hammered, trying to break free.

  When he could bear it no more, he turned his hand so that the screen was in view.

  Lisa.

  Today’s paper.

  The phone went slamming into the farthest wall and Jason hit the floor.

  Lewis cried.

  11

  Sally

  * * *

  There was a light on in the upstairs bedroom window as well as most of the downstairs windows. Living room, hallway and kitchen. It was late but it was obvious that Tom was waiting up for her. Sally turned the engine off and waited a minute. Her body felt weighted down by the events of the day, by the emotion of the job and by the sheer responsibility of being the one to connect and liaise with Jason Wells. Yes, she’d wanted to be involved. She’d wanted to progress in the department and deal with serious crimes; but now she realised that she had never considered the effects they would have on her.

  We’re not in the realm of shoplifters and actual bodily harm anymore, Toto.

  Leaning over to the passenger-side footwell, Sally grabbed her bag, took a deep breath and went into the house. Into her life. The life in which people weren’t dug out of their graves to torment and blackmail their spouses.

  Dropping the bag on the kitchen floor, she put the kettle on. A reflex. She heard footfall coming down the stairs. Turning around, she saw Tom in the doorway, bare-chested and barefoot, in a pair of jogging bottoms. Before she knew it she had her arms around his waist and her nose buried in his chest and her tears slid down his skin to sit in the crinkled elastic of his shorts.

  It was a moment before she realised that his arms were still at his sides. She pulled back and looked up at him.

  ‘It’s late.’

  Not a question.

  Sally rubbed her face, knowing that by now she would have make-up smeared across it and would not be in a great position to hold a serious discussion or argument. Though she wasn’t quite sure why she would need to.

  ‘I know. Our offender turned into a victim.’ Tom didn’t look convinced. ‘It was complicated.’ She sighed. ‘Which meant it dragged on and–’ she paused, looked him in the eyes ‘–it’s a different job than I had before, Tom, this will be a lot more demanding. Longer hours are inevitable, but it’s a career role, we discussed this.’

  He sighed. ‘Why are you crying, Sally? That’s not part of your career role, surely?’ He sat down at the kitchen table.

  ‘I can’t say – but this job today. It’s awful. What some people do.’

  ‘Can you handle it?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He looked at her face, a smile on his.

  She sat
across his knee, wrapping her arms around his neck, and this time his arms came around her. ‘I can. Some jobs will be more difficult than others, but I’ll get used to it.’ She tilted her chin out in defiance of him. He laughed at her.

  She put her head on his shoulder. ‘You know how much I love you, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah, of course I do.’

  ‘And I want to grow really old and grey with you?’

  ‘Like, really grey?’

  ‘Just a little grey, but really old.’

  ‘Okay.’

  She lifted her head. ‘You know that?’

  ‘Yes, I know that. What’s brought this on? Today’s job?’

  ‘I suppose so.’ She nuzzled back into his neck where he smelled of the Orange and Bergamot Molton Brown shower gel that she’d bought him for his birthday because she’d liked the smell of it.

  ‘I love you too and I miss you when you’re not here. These long shifts play havoc with my need to see you. So yes, I intend to grow old and grey with you too.’

  Now Sally didn’t answer; her nose was pushed into Tom’s neck where he was warm and smelled good. The scents of home, the warmth of security. For her, combined, they represented love.

  ‘Okay, okay. I’ll make you that tea and then you can come and get some rest in bed before your next big day tomorrow.’

  ‘Are you sure I just need to rest before tomorrow?’

  12

  Sally

  * * *

  She didn’t think he had slept much. His skin had a pale, gone-off-milk look to it. His eyes were dark and heavy, his movements slow. She watched from the kitchen doorway as he grabbed cups and poured milk, unsure how to connect with a man with such a burden on him, unsure how she could show her worth to the team and connect as a valuable member there, by doing such an impossible job with such a hurt and broken man.