Heartbreaker (Brennan and Esposito Series)

by Tania Carver

  She loved Edward, but it wasn’t enough. He was often the only other human being she saw for days at a time. She had to do something. She had a degree. Time to use it.

  She applied for a job with social services. Got an interview and, despite being underqualified, was accepted as a trainee social worker. She was elated. This was it. Her chance to do something for herself rather than exist day-to-day as Shaun’s shadow. She told Shaun. He pretended to be pleased but she could tell he wasn’t really. He went along with it at first. But things soon came to a head. One night there was no dinner made.

  ‘Thought we could have an Indian,’ she said. ‘I’ve had a really rough day.’

  But Shaun had had a rough day too. Didn’t she realise that? How hard he worked? And what did she think she was doing, getting a job for herself? Wasn’t his good enough for her? Didn’t he bring in enough for all of them? Anyway, a mother should be at home with her son, not working and paying for childcare, letting some stranger bring him up. What kind of a mother was she?

  And that was when he hit her for the first time.

  Both of them were in shock. Shaun sobbed, begged her forgiveness, pleaded with her not to leave, to give him another chance. He’d never done anything like that before, didn’t know what had come over him, would never, ever do it again.

  So she forgave him.

  But he did do it again.

  The pattern was established. And Claire changed completely from that strong woman to a timid, quaking shadow, terrified of being late home, knowing he was going to ask her where she had been and who with. She dealt with abused women in her job. Was fascinated and appalled at how they could turn into doormats for some angry, weak man. And then she realised. That was her.

  He told her to give up her job. She was scared, agreed that she would. But she couldn’t. That was when he gave her her most severe beating. The one that put her in hospital. The one that got the police involved.

  The female police officer who talked to her told her there were places she could go. Claire laughed. I know, she said. I refer people to them every day. The policewoman wasn’t impressed. Told her it was time she went there herself. With her son. Because there might not be a next time.

  Claire felt like an alcoholic at an AA meeting, acknowledging what she had become. She went to a refuge, taking Edward with her. She never went back to Shaun.

  Gradually she regained her strength. Pressed charges. His barrister tried to tear her apart but she stood firm. He got three years. The only thing she felt as she watched him go down, in tears, was: I wish I’d done it sooner.

  And that was what led to her new career.

  She looked round her office once more, at the mounting paperwork on her desk that wasn’t going to deal with itself. Her life was different now. So much better.

  But the last few days… She kept the flashbacks at bay, her life with Shaun. But murder on her doorstep had a habit of bringing them back.

  She would have to try even harder not to let the past take hold once more. And not just for her sake.

  45

  ‘This is a surprise,’ said Keith Bailey. ‘Wasn’t expecting another visit from the police so soon.’ He leaned forward, frowning, serious. ‘Have there been developments?’

  DS Sperring shook his head. ‘Not as such, sir. We’re just talking to people again. Seeing if there are any more details we can get. That sort of thing.’ Affable, easy.

  Bailey nodded. ‘Right, of course. So.’ He put his hands on the desk, smiled. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘Can you tell us again about your relationship with Janine Gillen?’

  ‘Relationship?’ Bailey frowned. ‘She was my client. She and her husband at first, then just her. I told all this to the other officer, DC Oliver, was it?’

  ‘Just double-checking, sir. Like I said, you might remember something while we’re talking that you forgot yesterday. No doubt you’ve been thinking about this.’

  ‘I’ve barely thought about anything else.’

  ‘There you go, then. Your relationship. What was it like?’

  ‘Fine. Professional, if that’s what you’re insinuating.’ Sperring didn’t reply. Bailey continued. ‘She was a… broken girl. Like so many we get here.’

  ‘What was her state of mind?’

  ‘Upset. Distressed. Naturally, given what she’d been through.’

  ‘And you recommended she go to a refuge.’

  ‘I did, yes. She was at her wits’ end with her husband, no way out and no future. She was scared of him. I thought the best course of action would be for her to remove herself from the family home. I gave her a card for somewhere to go.’

  ‘Safe Haven.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Your wife’s place.’ Sperring leaned forward, smiled. ‘You on commission?’

  ‘Sorry?’ The natural good humour in Bailey’s face turned to puzzlement. ‘What… what are you trying to say?’

  Sperring gave an expansive shrug. ‘Just a joke, Mr Bailey. Sorry.’

  Bailey sat back, eyed Sperring warily. He didn’t speak.

  ‘Do you have a list of all the women you’ve referred to Safe Haven?’

  Bailey frowned. ‘I’m sure I could find one for you, yes. Either Safe Haven or one of the other refuges, is that what you want?’

  ‘Just Safe Haven for now.’

  ‘Well, it’s… it’ll take some time. I can’t remember offhand. I’ll have to go and physically check through my files.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Although I should warn you, Detective Sergeant, that that list is confidential. My work involves dealing with a lot of vulnerable women. Women who have experienced some of the worst things another human being can do to them. They tell me things in confidence. If I were to hand it over…’

  ‘It’ll be treated as confidential by us.’

  ‘I see people from all walks of life. Even yours.’

  ‘You have my word.’

  Bailey nodded reluctantly. ‘I’ll get it to you as soon as I can.’ He looked around, towards the door. ‘I’m expecting a client soon. Was there anything else?’

  ‘There was, actually,’ said Sperring, gaze not shifting from Bailey’s face.

  Bailey looked puzzled once more. ‘Oh? What was that?’

  ‘Did a bit of digging on you, Mr Bailey,’ said Sperring.

  Bailey looked at him in surprise.

  ‘Background, that sort of thing. Just routine.’

  ‘On me?’

  ‘Fancy yourself as a bit of a property tycoon, don’t you?’

  Bailey tried to laugh. ‘What?’

  ‘You inherited a block of flats, didn’t you?’ said Sperring. ‘Or at least a couple of old houses that had been turned into flats. That right?’

  ‘That’s correct.’

  ‘From a… grandparent? Aunt? Something like that?’

  ‘A friend of my grandmother. She left the houses to me in her will.’

  Sperring smiled, nodding, as if his memory was coming back to him and he hadn’t been looking on the police computer only an hour ago. ‘Right,’ he said. ‘Bit of a kerfuffle at the time, though, wasn’t there? Didn’t her family claim that she’d been tricked out of them?’

  Bailey stood up. ‘That’s ancient history, Detective Sperring. I don’t see what it has to do with —’

  ‘They went a bit further than that, though, didn’t they? In their insinuations. Claimed you’d actually killed her. Forced her to sign the flats over to you, then poisoned her. Have I remembered correctly, Mr Bailey?’

  Bailey stared at him, mouth open. ‘Oh, come on, Detective Sperring. That’s absolute bullshit. Her family had had their eye on those flats for years, so naturally they were angry when they never received them. They tried their best to smear me, but it didn’t work. They took me to court and lost, it cost them a lot of money, and that was that. What has any of it got to do with Janine Gillen’s death?’

  Sperring shrugged. ‘Don’t know. Per
haps nothing.’ He smiled. ‘Just wanted to check you were the same Keith Bailey, that’s all.’ He stood up. ‘Now, about that list.’

  Bailey stared at him, seemingly undecided about what to do. Eventually he said, ‘I’ll get it sorted for you. It may take me a few days to go through the records.’

  ‘Sooner the better, Mr Bailey. Thank you.’

  Sperring left. No handshake, warm or otherwise.

  Outside, it had started to rain once more. Sperring walked towards his car. His questions had been legitimate, valid. It was a murder inquiry, after all. But his dislike of liberals was well documented. If he had managed to annoy the Guardian-reading hippie in the process, just a little bit, then so much the better. That made him think about Phil. He smiled. He actually missed the leftie bastard.

  Shaking his head, he hurried on, out of the rain.

  46

  These are the phone transcripts from women who called Safe Haven.’ Elli pointed to the pile on her right. ‘Next to that, a list of missing women fitting the profile of the two victims. Goes back a year. Trying to cross-reference.’ She gave an uneasy smile. ‘Not a simple task.’

  Marina looked at Elli. She had met her before; Phil had introduced her socially. She had intrigued Marina then and continued to do so. Small, Asian, with multiple piercings and tattoos, and her own idiosyncratic dress sense. Tolerated, Marina knew, because she got results. She could see why Phil liked her.

  ‘What does that mean?’ She pointed to Elli’s chest.

  Elli looked down. Smiled, blushing a little, but also proud to get the chance to talk. ‘My T-shirt? It’s Hank Pym.’

  ‘Right.’

  The design showed various superheroes of differing sizes, with a suited, shadowed man at the centre.

  ‘That’s him there. All the rest are his incarnations. He’s a superhero who’s not content with having just one secret identity. Down there at the bottom, that’s Ant Man. He can shrink. Then Goliath – tall, obviously. Then Yellowjacket, then Giant Man. Biggest of the lot.’

  ‘And who’s the robot behind him?’

  ‘Ultron. Evil. He created him too.’

  ‘So how does he get these… powers?’ Marina wasn’t really interested, but she wanted to get Elli talking.

  ‘Pills, initially. Pills to make him feel small, pills to make him feel big.’ She laughed. ‘He’d make a good case study for you, I reckon.’

  Marina smiled too. ‘I could build a career on him. If he was real.’

  If Marina’s final words upset Elli, she didn’t let it show.

  ‘Right,’ said Marina, ‘onwards. What have you turned up so far for me to work with?’

  Elli looked at the desk once more. ‘Just what was said in the briefing, really. I can fill you in on what’s been done in the investigation so far, if you like.’

  ‘I know a bit of that. I’ve already done some preliminary work on the two cases. Imani asked me. Haven’t had a chance to talk to her about it yet.’

  ‘Yes, but Phil —’ Elli froze, eyes panicked. ‘The previous CIO thought we should concentrate on Roy Adderley, the husband of the first victim. Phi— He thought that —’

  ‘You can say his name, you know,’ said Marina.

  Elli looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it. He’s my husband. And he was in charge of this investigation until recently. Don’t feel you can’t mention him.’ Marina wished she felt as calm and composed as her words and the delivery of them made her sound.

  Elli nodded, head down. She didn’t continue.

  Marina leaned forward. ‘Elli? You were saying?’

  ‘I… It’s not really my place to talk about this,’ Elli said.

  ‘But he works here. You can mention him.’ Hoping that her voice wasn’t shaking as much as she thought it was. Hoping that the heaviness inside her wasn’t showing.

  ‘It’s just…’ Elli looked round, checked to see no one was eavesdropping. ‘He’s been… really out of sorts recently. Not himself. I know he’s been suspended, but don’t judge him harshly for that.’

  Marina smiled. ‘I won’t. I don’t.’

  Elli nodded. They sat in silence.

  Marina opened her mouth, almost spoke. Closed it again. I’ll regret it if I do, she thought. She wanted so much to talk about her situation, about Phil. And here was someone new, someone who would listen.

  No. She was here to work, and that was what she would do. But she had to admit to herself that every time she heard Phil’s name, something broke inside her. Something she hoped wouldn’t stay broken for ever.

  ‘Do you…’ Elli was looking once more at the desk, ‘do you think that’s it? Or will the two of you get back together?’

  Marina was floored. The last question she’d been expecting from someone she didn’t really know. But then Phil had told her he suspected Elli was somewhere on the spectrum, so it wasn’t so out of the ordinary.

  ‘I…’ She didn’t know how to answer. ‘Never say never, eh?’

  Elli nodded.

  ‘Now come on. Back to work. We’ve got a murderer to catch.’

  47

  ‘Back again?’ said Claire Lingard, attempting a smile. ‘Keep this up and we’ll have to get a room ready for you.’

  Imani smiled in return. ‘Sorry to trouble you again. Could I have a word? Couple of things I wanted to go over.’

  Patel had once again been left in the car. He was very understanding about it, which Imani appreciated.

  ‘Sure,’ said Claire Lingard, ‘come in.’

  Imani stepped through the doorway. The refuge was beginning to feel familiar. And, bare and institutionalised as it was, it had something about it. She could imagine how some women came to call it home.

  Claire again led her to her office. Once inside, with tea on the way, she sat in an armchair, beckoned Imani to join her.

  ‘I keep these two chairs for when someone wants to talk. The desk can get in the way of that sometimes. Well, quite a lot of the time, actually.’

  ‘I can imagine,’ said Imani.

  ‘So has there been any progress?’

  ‘We’re examining a few leads,’ Imani said diplomatically. ‘In fact that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. Plus get a feel for the place, how it works. That sort of thing.’

  Claire smiled. ‘You thinking of volunteering? You wouldn’t be the first policewoman we’ve had here. On either side of the counter.’

  ‘I’m sure. So tell me… how does it run?’

  ‘You mean financially? Local council funding, mainly. We get a grant, donations. We’re a registered charity.’ She looked at Imani. ‘That wasn’t what you meant.’

  ‘Not exactly.’

  The tea arrived. The woman who brought it in was small, round, with her hair scraped back to make her as sexless as possible. She smiled nervously, as if she was asking for permission to do so.

  ‘Thanks, Alice,’ Claire said as the woman made her way to the door.

  ‘She looks familiar,’ Imani said, once the door had closed behind her.

  ‘The case is public knowledge so I don’t mind telling you. Husband was a banker. Tried to hire her out for sex to his friends. Used to hurt her if she refused. Eventually she hit him back. He’s up on his feet now, and the police thought it would be safer for her to come here. Been with us a while now.’

  ‘Yeah, I remember that. Not my case, though. How’s she settling in?’

  ‘Well. Still needs a lot of help, therapy and such. The risk now is she gets too dependent on us. Too institutionalised. Still, goes to show that class isn’t a barrier to domestic abuse.’

  Imani sipped her tea.

  ‘Did the list I gave you help at all?’ asked Claire.

  ‘Thank you, yes. We’ve got someone going through it at the moment. Hopefully we’ll get somewhere with it.’

  ‘Glad to help. So what can I do for you now?’

  Imani put her tea down on the small table between them. Noticed the box of paper
tissues, the bottle of water and two glasses for the first time. She could imagine Claire having a heart-to-heart here. Since the woman had dropped her guard, realised that Imani was here to help, she had become a different person.

  ‘Can you take me through the procedure after someone calls you?’

  ‘It’s watertight, the whole thing.’ Claire stiffened slightly.

  ‘I’m sure it is. But he’s reaching these vulnerable women somehow, so we have to look at every angle.’

  The word ‘vulnerable’ once more struck a chord with Claire. Must be the key to unlocking her, thought Imani.

  ‘What d’you need to know?’

  ‘Take me through it. Someone phones the refuge. They’re desperate, at their wits’ end. They need to leave their husband, need to come here. What happens next?’

  ‘I thought I’d told you this.’

  ‘You did, but I need detail now.’

  ‘Well, they’d be assessed on the phone, as I said, and then if they had to come here we’d start to make arrangements. If they phoned during the day it wouldn’t be a problem. We’d find out where they were, give them a location to wait in. A café, somewhere like that, if there’s one local to them. But somewhere they’d feel safe.’

  ‘Then you’d send someone from here to get them.’

  ‘That’s right. Or if we were busy, we’d ask them to get a taxi. Give them a number of a firm we trust. Or even the police. If they haven’t any money and they’re in immediate danger. Or – and again, this is if they don’t have money but have a little time or need to travel some distance to reach us – we get them to contact social services, get a travel warrant arranged.’

  Imani was writing it all down in her notebook. ‘And that’s all during the daytime.’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘What about night? Out of office hours?’

  ‘That’s when the emergency service comes in.’

  ‘And how does that work?’

  ‘The line’s manned by volunteers, usually. The call will come through to here. Then it’s a judgement call, really. The procedure’s the same. Go to a safe place, wait to be picked up.’