‘Am I early?’ Downes said, looking crestfallen. For as long as they’d had their arrangement, she had always answered the door in a state of undress. It separated work Ruby from sexy Ruby, but tonight the lines were blurred. The look on her face told him that sex was not on the agenda.
‘I’m sorry to lure you here under false pretences, but I really need to talk and I didn’t want an audience.’
Downes took a seat, his long legs stretched out in front of him. Tugging off his tie, he rolled it up and pushed it into his jacket pocket. ‘I knew you were in trouble.’
Ruby handed him a glass of rum and coke. Something to take the edge from what she was about to say.
‘You could say that. But first I need to ask you a question. Can I trust you? No bullshit; give it to me straight.’
Downes tilted his head as he offered a bemused smile. ‘Of course. And while we’re here I’m just your friend. Whatever you say won’t go outside these four walls, unless you want it to.’
Seconds passed as she tried to assemble her words. ‘You’re very near retirement; I don’t want to drag you down.’
Downes clasped her knee and gave it a squeeze. ‘It can’t be that bad, can it?’
Ruby knocked back her drink, taking comfort in its warmth as it slid down her throat.
Downes frowned. ‘Now you’re worrying me. Are you pregnant or something?’
‘Good God no. It’s about work.’ She paused. Did she see a trace of disappointment flicker across Downes’s face? It must have been relief in disguise.
He gave a soft chuckle. ‘Then pour me another drink, girl; sounds like it’s going to be a long night.’
The words felt like rocks in her throat: each confession worse than the last. Her on-off affair with Nathan, their adopted daughter, her visit to Goldie, and the unreported emails directed solely at her. Downes’s face was expressionless throughout, but by the rate he was sinking her booze the words were having their effect.
‘And you kept all of this to yourself? Why didn’t you come to me earlier? It’s not as if you didn’t have the opportunity.’
‘I didn’t want to involve you; it wouldn’t have been fair.’
‘So what’s changed?’
‘I think I know who the door-knocker killer is.’
‘Shit,’ Downes said. ‘Who is it?’
‘I’ve got a suspicion it’s my daughter. Lucy, or whatever she calls herself now. It’s why I’ve come to you. I need your help bringing her in tomorrow. I think I know where she’s going to be.’
‘And how did you get that information?’
‘Through my contacts,’ Ruby replied, staring into her empty glass.
‘The Crosbys.’ It was a statement, not a question.
‘Lenny. Nathan knows nothing about it. Please don’t ask me any more.’
‘Meaning,’ Downes paused, ‘you had to give something in return? Did he hurt you?’
‘Oh no, nothing like that. But you’re right; there was an… exchange. It’s finished now. Nobody got hurt.’
‘Hmm… but there was that drugs raid. The one they’d been planning for months. The one that fell apart because someone had tipped them off?’
‘And there’s this,’ Ruby said, changing the subject swiftly as she pulled a sheet of folded paper from her pocket.
‘These are the stills from the internet café that I mentioned in briefing. Judging by the times, we’re pretty certain this is our suspect.’ She handed over the grainy image of a person with short dark bobbed hair.
‘Looks a bit like Worrow,’ Downes joked, squinting at the image.
‘It matches the description of the woman Goldie told me about. I’m going to disclose it to Worrow at first light. But I’m not telling her about my daughter, or how I got this information in the first place.’
Downes tutted. ‘Ruby, Ruby, Ruby. What a tangled web we weave.’
She looked at him uncertainly. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘What do you want me to do?’
Ruby shrugged, feeling like an axe was about to drop at any minute. ‘Do what you feel is right.’
‘This does my head in, you know that? You’re getting paid to lock up criminals, then sneaking off to see them on job time. You could lose your job.’
Guilt and shame washed over Ruby and she bit back the tears that threatened to flow. She drew in a deep breath. Crying had brought her merciless teasing from her brother as a child. It was a sign of weakness, and she hated herself for being at such a low point in her life. She wanted to tell Downes that she realised how stupid she’d been, that she was disgusted with herself for risking her career and felt every inch the loathed ‘bent copper’ for providing evidence which could have collapsed the raid. She opened her mouth to speak, but the lump in her throat grew and she could not trust herself to utter the words. Her chin wobbled and she shielded her face in her hands, catching the tears which were now trailing between her fingers without her permission.
‘I’m sorry, I never meant for any of this to happen.’
Downes squeezed her shoulder. ‘Hush now, you’re not the first copper to get themselves in hot water and you won’t be the last. I don’t suppose you’ve eaten, have you? Let me order in some food. You’ll feel better with some grub inside you.’
Ruby nodded, her sobs subsiding. Downes looked around the room for a takeaway menu. A rush of loneliness hit her. The dynamics in their relationship had changed, and they had broken all of the rules. No discussion of work, no sharing a meal, and definitely no crying on his shoulder. It begged the question: was their friendship over? And how would she cope on her own?
But Downes was not leaving her any time soon. The next few hours were spent discussing options over a takeaway Chinese. Relief swept over Ruby as it became apparent he had no intention of reporting her to her superiors. She would have to ensure no evidence of any kind could be traced back to her, then deny any involvement if she was questioned. At least she hadn’t taken any payment from Lenny. If she had, Downes might have turned her in, and she wouldn’t have blamed him. But she was as much a victim in this sorry affair as anyone else, and all she wanted to do was to put it right.
Ruby rubbed a bleary eye as she looked at her watch. ‘It’s gone one a.m., you’d better be going.’
‘I’m not leaving you here on your own. Do you want to come back to mine and stay the night?’
Downes’s townhouse was five minutes’ walk from the station, and the pretty tree-lined estate where he lived also housed other police officers on her shift. ‘No, someone will see us and put two and two together. I’m OK, honestly.’
He stood up from the cramped chair and stretched his limbs. ‘In that case, I’m staying with yous. Try not to abuse me in the night, I’m too tired.’
Ruby gave a short laugh and followed him to the bedroom. They spooned, listening to the gentle howl of the wind through the crack in her bedroom window. His strong arms gave her comfort, and she had the best night’s sleep in weeks.
She awoke the next morning to the sound of the shower and pushed back her tousled hair as Downes emerged from a puff of steam.
‘For the love of God, how do you use that shower? There’re two settings: Baltic or lobster boil. I’m fecking freezing.’
Ruby cast an eye over his muscular shoulders, trailing down to the small towel draped over his torso. The slight paunch did not detract from him in the slightest. Ruby didn’t want to return to reality yet. Tonight was a late shift, and it was an hour before her alarm clock was due to go off. Snuggling back under the duvet, she pulled back a corner, enticing him inside. ‘If you want I can warm you up.’
Downes smiled in return, whipping off the towel to rough-dry his hair. ‘I know your game, lassie: fiddling with the temperature to get me into bed. You only had to ask.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
The battered computer processor whirred as it fought to keep up with the programmes she had opened. Ruby clicked on the search engine, typing in sc
enes describing how the bodies had been found. Forensics on the memorial cards had been disappointing because whoever sent them had covered their tracks. But it gave Ruby the incentive to clear the paperwork from her desk. She had declined Downes’s offer of a cooked breakfast, her mind too occupied with thoughts of Lucy to spend the morning relaxing in a café. Today was a late shift, which afforded her more time. But Ruby did not want to be anywhere else. A quick visit to her mum and she was back at work, four hours before she was due in.
Her search history consisted of some very strange phrases, but ‘eating cucumber sandwiches in lounge scene’ had to be in her top ten. But the return was so vast she did not know where to begin. She clicked on the images, pausing to change the search term. ‘Victorian, book, movie, scene in lounge, cucumber sandwiches.’ Like her other searches, it was random, but worth a shot. She found it on the third page of results. The image of a woman on a patterned chaise longue made Ruby’s heart patter in her chest. A table was displayed in front of her, triangular cucumber sandwiches on a neatly laid tray.
This was it. This was the re-enacted scene.
A memory resurfaced of a movie Ruby had seen over ten years ago. Lucy’s Christmas. It was too close to her own life for comfort, and she had vowed never to watch it again. A corny feel-good story set in Victorian times, it featured a little girl that had been given up for adoption. A blonde-haired, blue-eyed little girl named Lucy. The first time Ruby had watched it she’d sobbed the whole way through. Like an old-fashioned version of Annie, it was a story of past regrets and new reconnections, as the little girl found her real mother again. A tragic parting, a fairy-tale reunion, with both lives intertwined. The movie began as Lucy’s biological mother sat sadly in her living room mourning the loss of her own mother. The death notice, the Victorian mourning traditions: they were all part of the scene. Having lost the one person who made her give up her daughter the woman vowed to reclaim her little girl. Several obstacles crossed her path, but all was resolved on Christmas Day. Ruby hated that movie because real life was not made of fairy tales and she couldn’t bear the fact her child shared the same name. She grimaced as she looked up an online movie site to find more information. The details were vague. She would have to watch it again.
* * *
But Ruby did not cry when she saw the film again because this time she was in her office watching with the eye of an investigator. The mother figure named Melissa looked nothing like victims Emily and Monica. But the scenes were exactly the same. Ruby held her breath as the film began with Melissa staring mournfully at a death notification: a black-edged card just like the ones delivered to Ruby’s desk.
The scenes could not have been any more exact. Melissa, in a floral dress, having tea and cucumber sandwiches, a temporary respite after being misdirected to her daughter’s true whereabouts. Falling asleep in her Victorian nightgown, her hair spilling out on the pillow as she dreams of being reunited with her daughter. Ruby watched through to the final scene. A touching moment, when the woman was sitting in the car ready to drive away into the sunset with her little girl. It had all been focused around that special Christmas Day when Lucy asked Santa for her true mummy. At last they were reunited, and the wicked woman who ran the orphanage was taken away, replaced with someone kinder to care for the children who were left behind. It was an old-fashioned, heart-warming fairy tale. Ruby could imagine her suspect watching it over and over until she knew every word, every scene, every detail off by heart. But nowhere in the movie had glass baubles found their way into the mother’s stomach. Was it an action born out of anger because Emily had not re-enacted the scene to perfection? And had Anita Devine ever watched this movie too? If so, it might give her a slim hope of survival. Ruby looked up a number and picked up the phone.
‘Mr Devine, this is Detective Sergeant Ruby Preston from Shoreditch Serious Crime Unit. We’ve spoken before.’
‘Yes?’ Joseph breathed down the phone, his panic audible. Ruby could have kicked herself for her insensitivity. It was obvious he was expecting bad news.
‘It’s nothing really, just a quick question. Has Anita has ever seen the movie Lucy’s Christmas? It’s an old feel-good film, not very well known.’
Joseph started speaking before Ruby had even finished her sentence. ‘Yes, she must have watched that movie a hundred times or more. She ordered it on DVD from some obscure website and tortured herself with it. In the end, I threw it away. Why? What’s that got to do with anything?’
‘It’s just a line of enquiry I’m pursuing. And Joseph? If we have any real news, good or bad, we’ll tell you in person. It won’t be delivered over the phone.’
Ruby bid her goodbyes, grateful for the lead. It was also a small glimmer of hope. And right now, it was Anita’s only chance of keeping her and Sophie alive.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
‘La la la la.’ Lucy danced down the steps, giggling as she reached the last one, and jumping with both feet together. Her voice carried in a forced high-pitched tone, and Anita prepared herself for her visit. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry, to bunch her fists and launch herself at her captor until she broke free. But she knew from experience that her best chance of being released was to stay calm and give her persecutor whatever she wanted.
The last few hours had been hell, and she had no choice but to believe Lucy’s reassurances that Sophie was still alive. Being good in emergencies was a trait which had got her out of a few sticky situations. The worse things got the calmer she became. It was uncanny. She used to worry about it until she found her niche in counselling. Her husband joked that she attracted all the crazies. It was all the more reason for her to have picked up on Lucy’s mental state when she visited. But she so wanted it to be real she had put aside any niggling reservations. For now, Lucy was happy and it was up to Anita to make sure she stayed that way.
‘Mummy,’ Lucy said; the childish words strangely out of place for her adult frame. ‘It’s going to be Christmas soon.’ She rushed forward, opening her arms for a hug. She was dressed as a little girl now and freakishly frightening. Her eyes flitted back and forth while narrow lips mumbled as she spoke under her breath.
Anita counted to ten in her mind, forcing her body to relax, leaning her head into Lucy’s bony frame to accept her affection. It was going against every natural instinct, but she forced a deep, calming breath and was rewarded by the look of surprise on her captor’s face. She had not been expecting her compliance. Not a second time. But Anita would do what it took to keep her baby alive.
Lucy stepped back and clapped her hands. ‘Oh Mummy, this is so exciting. Do you like Christmas? Do you?’
Anita nodded, mumbling ‘mmm’ under the slimy gag which was making her stomach churn.
Lucy bit her bottom lip. ‘Silly me, let’s get this off,’ she said, her fingers hastily undoing the knot. ‘Now don’t do anything silly, will you? Because the last lady did something silly and she’s not around anymore.’
Anita’s eyes fell on the bloodstained floor and she nodded. The smell of decay, the broken floorboards: everything about this room screamed danger. She focused on her lungs, drawing in breath and exhaling it again. In… out… in… Anything rather than allow her natural instincts to emerge. Because every sinew in her body was battling to punch, kick and fight. She took a slow breath as the gag was removed, licking the bitter taste from her lips. This was not the time to scream. This was the time to take things calm and slow. She smiled, looking at Lucy as if she was the most precious thing in the world. Because that was what Lucy wanted and keeping Lucy happy was her best chance of saving her and Sophie’s lives.
Lucy stared as if observing a new species in the zoo. She clearly was not used to Anita’s behaviour and seemed at a loss as to how to react. Anita wanted to ask about Sophie, demand for her to be set free. But instead she gave her a sad smile and waited for Lucy to speak.
‘Aren’t you cross?’ Lucy said, folding her arms.
‘No. I’m a little sad
for you and feeling uncomfortable in this chair, but I’m not cross. Why would I be cross when I’ve found you?’
Lucy frowned. ‘So you’re happy to see me?’
‘Of course I am, darling; I’ve waited all my life for you.’
Lucy jutted out her bottom lip in a pout. ‘You’re lying. You want to trick me – because you’re scared.’
Anita smiled, pushing back the hysterical laugh bubbling up in her throat. She swallowed it back, emitting a gentle chuckle, her words calm and even. ‘Don’t you remember how happy I was when you turned up at my door? I said I’d waited all my life for you to come knocking. Seeing you was the happiest day of my life.’
Lucy nodded. ‘I remember. But this is different. I took you here; you must hate me for that. The others did.’
‘Sweetheart, I don’t know about any other people, but I do know this: you’re my daughter. From the second I saw you I knew that it was true. You must have been hurt by some very bad people to bring you to this dark place, and that breaks my heart. So it doesn’t matter how I got here. You don’t even have to tell me why; because now we start our lives afresh. Forget those other people who let you down. It’s you and me now.’
Lucy eyed her suspiciously. It was the longest conversation she had ever had with her guests. And it was way too good to be true. Lucy’s childish tone had dropped for now as she spoke with the voice of an adult. ‘What about your other family? Your husband, your son and daughter?’
‘They’ve had me all their lives. And I’m guessing that you’ve had no one. This is my chance to make things right. But there is something I need you to do for me so we can start on the right foot.’
Love You to Death: An Absolutely Gripping Thriller with a Killer Twist Page 22
