Closing In

by Sue Fortin

  She heard herself shouting. ‘Help! Donovan! Ben! Help! Someone!’

  She realised she couldn’t wait for someone to come to her rescue. She had to keep trying to physically fight back.

  With a gargantuan effort, finding strength where she thought all had left her, Ellen thrust her hands at his chest, shoving him backwards. She didn’t wait to see where he stumbled. She was running like she’d never run before. She had no idea where, but she knew she needed to put distance between her and the man.

  All of a sudden she was caught in the arms of someone. She screamed. How had he got in front of her? She thrashed her arms wildly but he held her tight. She could hear herself almost sobbing hysterically. This couldn’t be happening to her.

  ‘Ellen! Ellen!’ He knew her name. How? How did he know her name? ‘Ellen. It’s all right. It’s me. Donovan.’

  She struggled some more. Her brain acknowledged it was Donovan, however her body had taken on a life of its own. For a few moments she fought wildly but her strength began to sap. Her arms had no force to back up the flailing and her shoulders were weak as they attempted to shrug his hands off. Then she was all spent. No energy. No adrenalin to keep her fighting. Her body slumped. He held her tight, enveloping her in his arms. She felt her knees soften and thought she would slip right through his embrace. He held her tighter, making soothing noises. The relief was overwhelming. He had her. She was safe.

  ‘Oh God, Donovan. Someone’s just attacked me,’ she was crying, holding tightly onto his neck.

  ‘I told you not to go off on your own. What were you thinking of? And where the fuck is Ben?’ snapped Donovan. She shuddered at the harshness in his voice and then he spoke more gently. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to shout.’

  As if waiting for his cue, Ben came skidding to a halt beside them. He was panting hard.

  ‘What’s happened?’ He swivelled round, looking up and down the road.

  ‘Someone attacked Ellen,’ said Donovan. ‘Where were you? Did you see anything?’

  ‘Shit,’ muttered Ben. ‘I’ve been in the car. I didn’t see a thing?’

  Ellen pulled back from Donovan to look at Ben. ‘Nothing? Nothing at all?’

  Ben shook his head apologetically. ‘Sorry, Ellen.’

  ‘How could you not have seen anything?’

  ‘It’s dark. The car’s back up there a bit. The first thing I knew was when I heard you shouting,’ said Ben.

  ‘I’m not making this up.’ Ellen could hear the desperate tone in her voice. They had to believe her.

  ‘It’s okay, Ellen. Stay calm,’ said Donovan.

  He was talking to her as though she was a child; the same way he way he spoke to Izzy to pacify her. Then another wave of panic engulfed her. ‘Izzy! Where’s Izzy?’

  ‘Oh, shit!’ Donovan released Ellen and was running back towards the school as he called out to them. ‘Get the car! Meet me at the front of the school.’

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Soaking wet, Donovan sat in the Range Rover next to Ben, with Ellen and Izzy in the back. He listened patiently as his daughter recounted the music evening as if he had never been there.

  As Izzy’s chatter moved on to the new Barbie doll her friend Daisy had brought with her, Donovan’s mind slipped back to the events of the evening. He had practically steamrolled into the classroom, pushing past other parents, to make sure Izzy was still there. A very surprised and disgruntled Miss Armstrong had assured him that Izzy was perfectly fine and would never have been allowed to go with anyone else. He knew he’d appeared to be overreacting but he also knew he had good reason.

  He smiled at Izzy and she continued to chatter about this and that. Then he looked at Ellen, huddled in the corner, her face bruised. She had refused to go to the hospital and, likewise, hadn’t wanted to call the police.

  Donovan hadn’t quite made up his mind for her reasoning behind this and he wanted to get to the bottom of why she didn’t want to go. He knew she was scared but what exactly was she scared of? Doubt stalked his thoughts. Doubt in the form of Toby and what he had said when he had visited the house, that Ellen was delusional.

  He sidestepped the thought. He had dealt with this already. Dismissed it and believed Ellen. Believed her because he could make the facts fit with her version of events, or because he had wanted to believe her? Another doubt that had snipered his belief.

  Izzy skipped her way through the open front door, telling Carla all about the evening, while the three adults trudged their way in. Donovan noticed the look of alarm on Carla’s face as she saw the state Ellen was in. He shook his head and nodded towards Izzy. He didn’t want attention drawn to it.

  ‘I’m going to have a shower,’ said Ellen, keeping her head down.

  ‘First let me look at your face properly,’ said Donovan. He shepherded her in the direction of the living room, away from the others who were making their way down to the kitchen. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  Once satisfied that she wasn’t going to protest, Donovan went down to the kitchen to get some cotton wool and warm water to bathe Ellen’s wounds. He also needed to make a discreet phone call to the station.

  A few minutes later he was in the living room with Ellen. He perched on the coffee table in front of her.

  ‘I’ll be all right,’ protested Ellen.

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that.’ He dipped the cotton wool into the small bowl of water and, squeezing out the excess liquid, he tipped her face up towards him. He winced as he saw the graze on her right temple and grimaced further, when he saw the red swelling on her left cheek. Fortunately the skin hadn’t been broken. ‘You have to report this, Ellen. You do know that.’

  She looked down. ‘Maybe it was a random attack.’

  He dropped the cotton wool onto the tray beside his mini first-aid kit and spoke in a soft voice. ‘Maybe. Maybe not. It still needs reporting. I’ve already rung Ken.’

  He leaned forwards and kissed her. A small kiss that tasted so sweet, he stayed for more. He stroked her sodden hair and kissed her again. He felt the wetness of a tear run between their lips and he pulled away but swathed her in his arms and held her close to him as she cried from the shock of the evening.

  He wanted to protect her, to make things better. To take away her pain. He didn’t know how, so he simply held her even tighter as she clung onto him, the tears turning to sobs and eventually subsiding. Spent of emotion, she was still clinging to him.

  Eventually, the quietness of the room was broken by a knock and Carla entered. Ellen pulled away and rummaged in her pocket for a tissue.

  ‘Sorry to interrupt but DCI Froames is here.’ She glanced over at Ellen and then back to Donovan. ‘Would you like me to settle Izzy tonight?’

  ‘Thank you, Carla, that would be great,’ said Donovan. ‘I’ll just say goodnight to her.’

  He got up and followed Carla into the hall where Ken and a female police officer were waiting. ‘Give me a minute, Ken, and I’ll be with you.’

  Izzy’s protest at not having either her father or Ellen put her to bed was short-lived, exhaustion and excitement from the concert getting the better of her. With the promise of an extra story from Carla, Izzy went on her way, much to Donovan’s relief. There had been enough drama for one night.

  Donovan took Ken and the police officer into the living room, where Ellen was patiently waiting. He sat quietly while Ellen answered the questions put to her in a calm and collected, almost matter-of-fact, manner. As far as he was aware, she hadn’t taken one of those calming pills. He still felt guilty for challenging her about Toby’s insinuation that she was on medication. He should have known better. Known her better. He couldn’t help but admire how composed Ellen was. It made him think that maybe she was used to detaching herself from events, being brave, being strong. Maybe her past experiences with Toby had made her like this. It saddened him. It also angered him. However, now wasn’t the time to turn on the alpha male. Ellen needed his love and support.

/>   Love?

  Shit.

  Where the hell did that come from? A feeling he wasn’t expecting. A feeling he had long since relegated to the depths of his heart. He dismissed the notion and focused on what Ken was asking Ellen.

  ‘Is there anything about the attacker that stands out? Anything you can remember?’ Ken’s voice was soft; it reminded Donovan of how the big detective spoke to Izzy. Encouraging, warm and reassuring.

  Ellen looked troubled. ‘I can’t really think of anything,’ she said after a while.

  ‘Don’t rush. Give yourself time,’ said the police officer.

  ‘No. Sorry,’ said Ellen finally.

  ‘I think that’s enough for one evening,’ said Donovan. Ellen looked exhausted. He winced inwardly as he studied her grazed face. He should have gone for the car and left her to wait for Izzy.

  Donovan walked to the front door with Ken.

  The DCI spoke to the female police officer. ‘Wait in the car for me. I won’t be long.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Donovan waited until the police officer was in the car. ‘What do you reckon, Ken? Any chance you’ll get the bloke? Do you think it could be the ex-boyfriend?’

  Ken gave a wry smile. ‘You’re the criminal psychologist. What do you reckon?’

  Donovan pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling the sigh that he had wanted to let out no end of times but had refrained from doing so in front of Ellen. ‘A simple answer. Yes. It could well be the ex-boyfriend. It’s worrying that if it is him, he’s turned from passive stalking to aggressive attack.’

  ‘It could, of course, have nothing to do with the ex-boyfriend and be someone else.’

  ‘So Ellen keeps telling me.’ Another sigh broke free. ‘What happens now?’

  ‘Procedural process. We log the attack. I can send SOCO down to have a look at the area tomorrow. No good doing it now in the dark.’

  ‘You’re not going to find anything after all this rain. Besides,’ Donovan hated what he was going to say next, ‘there might not be anything to find in the first place.’

  Ken raised his eyebrows. ‘You think she’s making it up? What about the bruising and the cut on her face? She’s hardly likely to have done that to herself.’

  ‘Not likely but not impossible either.’ Donovan closed his eyes. He despised himself for even thinking it, let alone saying it out loud but his emotions were swinging wildly from belief to suspicion.

  ‘Take it from me, mate,’ said Ken. ‘Ellen doesn’t strike me as some sort of psycho who would go to those extreme lengths. She seems genuinely shaken up by the whole thing. Taking all my years of policing into account, I’d stake my salary on her telling the truth.’

  It was a reassuring testament, from which Donovan took heart. ‘I know, it’s just the seed of doubt, that’s all.’

  ‘I’ll tell you what I’ll do. Just between us, we don’t have to let Ellen know. I’ll send someone to check out what the ex-boyfriend has been up to tonight. See if he has an alibi. How does that sound?’

  ‘Thanks, Ken. I would appreciate that,’ said Donovan. ‘While they are at it, get them to check out Lampard too, will you?’

  Donovan went back inside and after gentle persuasion, he convinced Ellen to go to bed.

  ‘You should get some sleep. It’s been a shock for you,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t know if I can sleep,’ replied Ellen, standing up and resting her head against his chest.

  Donovan held her for a moment. ‘Try and relax. I can sit with you for a while if you like.’

  She looked up at him. ‘To make sure I don’t take one of my pills?’ There was a challenging tone to her voice.

  ‘No, that’s not what I was implying at all,’ he said.

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.’ She ran the lapel of his jacket between her finger and thumb. ‘I’ve stopped taking those pills.’

  ‘You don’t have to explain yourself to me,’ he said, although Donovan couldn’t deny that this was good news. Despite knowing they were only a herbal remedy and non-addictive, he didn’t like the idea of Ellen depending on them. It also confirmed his thoughts that she was a strong woman, probably stronger than she herself appreciated.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him before burying her face in his shoulder. ‘I’d like it very much if you stayed for a while.’

  ‘Of course, angel.’ He’d stay all night if she wanted him to, his earlier doubts sinking as his gut feeling of believing in her resurfaced.

  He hadn’t planned to rough her up earlier but he certainly had no regrets. It hadn’t even been on his agenda to come into any contact with her. He had followed them up there with a mind to causing some damage to the car; a bit of paint-spraying and slashing of tyres. Something that would inconvenience them. Ruffle the feathers some more. Not only the adults, but the kid as well. As it happened, he was quite pleased with the way things had turned out.

  The minder they now had with them didn’t get out of the car as he thought would happen. He scoffed at the suggestion of the name. The minder hadn’t exactly fulfilled his job description. And as for Donovan, well, he was just as bad. They had both let her go off on her own. It had been an opportunist moment.

  He could have done without the knee in the balls or the bite to his hand, though, that was for sure. He rubbed the skin between his thumb and finger where she’d bitten him. Bitch. Still, she’d pay for that – he’d make sure of it.

  It only took a matter of days before Donovan received a phone call from Ken.

  ‘Lampard has an alibi for the incident with Ellen at the school’, said Ken. ‘He was in Cornwall taking part in a 10k run. His brother can back this up. We’ve seen confirmation that he took part. No denying it, he was there all right.’

  ‘Long-distance running and mountain-biking. He really is quite the action guy, isn’t he?’ said Donovan. ‘He was definitely there?’

  ‘Yep. Each entrant has an electronic tagging device so their timings are accurate. Lampard went through the start at 10.03 and at 10.56 he went through the finish line.’

  ‘So there’s absolutely no way he could have been anywhere else?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘What about if someone took his tag through with them as well as their own?’

  ‘Already checked that out. No one had the exact same time. It would be pretty near impossible for one person to take two separate electronic tags over at different times.’ Ken was adamant. ‘We checked his Facebook account and he’s been tagged in several pictures that same afternoon, enjoying a pint at the local pub in Cornwall. There’s no way he could have got back to Sussex in time to be around when the concert was on.

  ‘So it definitely wasn’t Lampard then.’

  ‘Definitely not Lampard,’ said Ken, pausing for a moment.

  ‘There’s something else?’

  ‘Yes, you’re not going to like this much.’

  ‘Why did I have a feeling you were going to say that?’

  ‘Because you know me too well, perhaps?’ said Ken. ‘Now, about Toby Hastings. I sent someone round to speak to him but I’m sorry, Donovan, he wasn’t there.’

  Donovan cursed silently to himself before he spoke. ‘Has anyone seen him? What about work? Has he been to work?’

  ‘Hang on, who’s the detective around here?’

  ‘Sorry. I guess I’ve been hanging around the police station for far too long.’

  ‘In answer to your questions. Yes he has still been going into work. We’ve left a message on the number Ellen gave, and asked him to make contact. Any developments and I’ll let you know. How is Ellen today?’

  ‘She’s okay. A tough cookie, that one,’ replied Donovan.

  ‘I get the feeling that young lady has been through quite a bit before now,’ said Froames.

  ‘You’re not wrong there.’

  After finishing his conversation with the DCI, Donovan went back into the kitchen. Mrs Holloway had phoned in sick, so Ellen
was busy preparing breakfast. He had offered to do it himself but Carla had already delegated the duty.

  ‘Where’s Izzy?’ he asked as he came into the kitchen.

  ‘She’s out in the garden, on the trampoline,’ replied Ellen, nodding towards the window. ‘Don’t worry, Ben’s with her.’

  ‘That was Ken on the phone.’ Donovan took some side plates out of the cupboard and began laying the table. ‘They haven’t been able to speak to Toby yet but as soon as they do, he’s going to call me.’ He looked for some sort of reaction, but Ellen carried on filling the kettle, a mere nod to acknowledge what he’d said. ‘About Toby,’ he continued, ‘do you know much about him? What he was like before you were with him? Old girlfriends, have they ever said anything about him?’

  Ellen let out a laugh. ‘Oh, Donovan, you really do sound like a psychologist now. Next you will be asking me if he had a troubled childhood or telling me it’s all to do with his mother making him wear pink jumpers.’

  ‘Did she?’

  ‘How would I know?’ Ellen laughed again. ‘That’s such a cliché.’

  ‘Hey, don’t knock it, it’s a valid theory. Why do you think clichés exist? Because they are often based on fact.’ He smiled. He did that a lot when Ellen was about. Anyone else making a similar remark may well have irked him, but Ellen just made him laugh. He moved towards the cutlery drawer at the same time as Ellen moved to the cupboard above it to get the cups.

  Without time to consider what he was doing, Donovan found himself putting his arms around her and drawing her towards him. There was no hesitation on her part when his mouth found hers. He felt her arms slide up his shoulders, pausing momentarily as they clasped his neck, before joining together across his back. He could feel the warmth of her hands through his shirt and the curves of her body against his. Every nerve ending in his body, and he meant every single one, felt as if it were on fire. Jesus, all he wanted to do was take her to bed, in fact, he wasn’t even fussy if they didn’t make it to the bedroom. This was bad. He groaned and pulled away.