by Diane Saxon
Shoulders too wide for the space, he nudged Jenna over, oblivious of the desperate emotion bubbling just under the surface, threatening to spill over in a horrible mess. ‘Are you going to eat that or interview it?’
She bestowed him with a weak smile and pushed some more of the sandwich into her mouth, then spoke around it. ‘Dear God, what did you do to him?’
Mason snorted into his coffee cup as he took a huge swig and then swallowed. ‘His mother got a hold of him. Apparently, Jim texted her.’ A wicked chuckle rumbled through his deep chest and he nudged Jenna like a school kid, raising another reluctant smile from her as Ryan slipped into the seat next to Adrian.
Wafts of cheap aftershave almost made her bring what little of her lunch she’d eaten back up as Adrian turned his head to inspect the youngster, who stared at the three of them, challenge in his bright blue eyes. His hair had been slicked to his head; the comb marks still evident. The white shirt with its starched collar stuck out, far too loose for his scrawny neck, while the plain blue tie had a knot the size of a tennis ball.
Adrian spared Mason a quick glance while he pushed the last of his sandwich down his throat in between small snorts of laughter, his wide shoulders shaking.
The boy’s suit had obviously come from his father’s wardrobe. Too wide in the shoulders, the sleeves came over the back of his hands almost to his knuckles as he reached for his meal.
Heaped high on a plastic plate, the mountain of food vaguely resembled a chilli con carne, but Jenna wasn’t quite sure and her stomach hitched in protest at the greasy smell. It didn’t seem to matter to Ryan as he bowed his head and scooped forkfuls of the Sainsbury’s microwave meal for two into his mouth.
‘No rush, Ryan. We’ve got twenty minutes.’
The kid raised his head and grinned at Mason. ‘Enough time for a pudding, then.’
Jenna picked another piece of sandwich off and put it in her mouth. ‘Don’t you get fed at home?’
Ryan grinned. ‘Sure I do, I call in at Mum and Dad’s on the way home. She’ll have dinner ready, but I need food now or I’ll keel over by the time I’m off tonight.’
Jenna met Adrian’s gaze, grateful for the distraction, however brief. Her mouth twitched again, and she pushed the last of her food into her mouth, surprised she’d managed to eat it all without her stomach rebelling. ‘You’re right. We need energy.’
Ryan grinned at her and wolfed down some more of his dinner while Jenna caught the quick flash of relief on Mason’s face as she dusted her hands off and screwed up the packaging from her sandwich. She chose to ignore it. She didn’t need the man turning soft on her. She’d melt in a puddle of self-indulgent pity if anyone showed her more than a lick of compassion.
The day had been too long and unkind.
The sweltering heat in the station still failed to melt her frozen emotions. She recognised it as shock, had seen it in so many others. Countless over the years. Faceless in their anonymity. She empathised on a level she’d never suspected herself capable of with all those victims she’d patted on the knee, laid a comforting hand on their shoulders, while her heart had truly never understood. Could never have understood until this moment how they felt when she broke the news of their loved one’s demise. A car crash, an accident, a murder.
Until this moment, she may have thought she understood, but she never had. She’d never imagined the searing, soul-deep pain they’d suffered.
She knew now and wished to God she didn’t.
With no ability to change the past and no chance of predicting the future, a woman in command of her own fate, so she’d always thought. She’d forced food into her mouth, with absolutely no interest, knowing she had to keep up her strength for the sake of her sister. Emotionally paralysed while others took control.
Mason swept fingers through his short, spiky hair. The lines around his mouth had deepened, his brow lowered. Always the clown of the shift, his change of temperament sucked any life out of the air.
Jenna always suspected Mason had a thing for her sister, and from the lines of worry slashed over his face, she guessed it ran far deeper than he’d ever admitted. An honourable man, despite his wild good humour, he would never have made a move on her little sister while she was with Ed.
Ed.
She whipped her head up, pushed her chair back as she stood.
Mason’s gaze snapped to hers. ‘What?’
‘Ed.’
The chair legs scraped across the floor like nails on a chalkboard as Mason surged to his feet.
Ryan leapt to his at the same time, stuffing the last bit of food in his mouth with no idea what was going on, but sensing the urgency. ‘Where are we going?’
Heart hammering, Jenna was already halfway to the door.
‘Whoa. Hold up, Jenna. Where do you think you’re going?’ Adrian was there before her, his hand on the door to prevent her from opening it.
‘Ed.’
Eyes cool, shoulders relaxed, he kept his hand on the door and ignored Mason’s step forward. ‘Who is Ed?’
‘Fliss’s ex-boyfriend.’
Dark eyebrows rose to crinkle his forehead. ‘And you’ve only just thought of him now because…?’
‘Because she hasn’t been with him for…’ Jenna racked her brain to think how long Fliss had been living with her, ‘… almost three months.’
‘Okay.’ Adrian dropped his hand from the door and crossed his arms over his broad chest, effectively blocking her exit. ‘So, why now?’
Mason closed in. ‘Because Fliss started getting texts from the twat last week.’
Unsurprised, Jenna shot Mason a quick look. They’d always been on the same wavelength, that’s why they worked so well together. The moment she’d mentioned Ed’s name, he’d known. She’d grumbled about Ed’s texts when he’d sent them to her sister and Mason had half-jokingly offered to bury the guy for Fliss.
‘I see.’ Adrian raised a hand to his knitted brow. ‘Okay. Mason, Jenna, let’s go and speak with DI Taylor and I’m sure he’ll deploy someone to bring him in for questioning.’
Panic at the loss of control skittered over her skin. ‘No, I…’
The sharp shake of his head stopped her mid-sentence.
‘No, Jenna. You won’t do anything. This is exactly what would compromise this case.’
The logic of it seeped through her determination to track down Ed. Stupid of her to even think that way. She’d always wanted to get the prick in a small room and beat the shit out of him for what he’d done to her baby sister. He’d scraped away at Fliss’s self-confidence, made her doubt herself by telling her she was stupid, not worthy of his love or anyone else’s.
Jenna stepped back with a quick nod and waited for Adrian to open the door.
‘I’d suggest you keep away from him too if you already have knowledge of the ex-boyfriend.’ He addressed his remark to Mason, then stepped through the doorway into the brightly lit corridor beyond. ‘Let’s speak with the DI.’
Then she was going to visit Domino. Damn that dog, but if it hadn’t been for him, Ed may well have destroyed Fliss completely, but Domino had taught her sister self-respect and love of another being far deeper than Ed could ever understand.
Tears filled Jenna’s eyes, not for the first time since Fliss had gone missing. She’d held it in, remained stoic in her approach, but if Domino died, she was going to kill him. Fliss was going to need Domino when they found her, and they would find her. Jenna’s heart told her so. It could accept no less.
She marched along the stark hallway, heels clicking on tiles dulled with age and the harsh treatment of many a footstep. Aware of her following, she paused to rap a quick, respectful knock on the Inspector’s office door before she let herself in.
Old-school, DI Taylor came to his feet and made his way around the desk to greet her, a quick flick of surprise crossed his features as the other three men shouldered in to stand beside her in the cramped room. Taylor peered over the top of his glasses at them all be
fore he guided her to the only visitor’s chair in the room, his hand a gentle firmness in the centre of her back.
‘Jenna. How are you holding up?’ Raw whisky scraped at his words. A man of long, hard service, he’d started his career in the Army and moved on, spending his earlier years in London, witnessing far more than Jenna could imagine in his time before he moved to the quieter realms of Shropshire. ‘You have something for me?’ He wasn’t the kind to hold her hand, but the touch on her back was his gentle reassurance he would stand by her and give her every ounce of support he was capable of.
She settled into the chair, while Taylor made his own chair creak with indignation at the sheer weight of him. ‘Fliss’s ex-boyfriend, Ed Pendleton.’
Taylor picked up his pen, wrote the details down on the paper in front of him, ignoring the computer by his side. ‘Address.’
She reeled it off. She’d been there countless times before Fliss had made the decision to leave the loser.
As a thought occurred to her, she gave a quiet cough and waited for Taylor to raise his head. ‘Has anyone accessed her phone yet?’
At his slow nod, a shudder ran through her. They’d listened to her sister’s last call. The one Fliss had made to her. The one she’d missed.
‘Can I listen to any of it?’
‘Sorry, Jenna, but you’re not allowed access to that kind of information. You know that.’
‘Was there anything from Ed?’
‘Yeah. We were about to ask you who he was.’ He held up a hand before the words she held in her mouth could burst out. ‘They weren’t nice. You don’t need to know the details, but we’ll get him in for questioning right now.’
‘Can I be there?’
‘No, Jenna, it would be inappropriate.’
‘But I can help. I can suggest questions.’
‘And you can compromise our case.’ He kept his voice gentle but firm, to leave her in no doubt of his professionalism.
Frustrated, she slammed her arms around herself to hug in the anger and the fear.
‘We’ll keep you informed of any progress.’
‘I can go, can’t I?’ The ice in Mason’s voice slithered down her spine, but it appeared that Taylor, with his years of experience, was unmoved.
His gaze took a slow perusal over her partner before he nodded. ‘You can of course watch, Mason, but you won’t be involved in the questioning of Ed Pendleton.’
‘But…’
‘That will be assigned to Salter and Wainwright.’
Jenna glanced up at Mason as he towered over her on one side while the kid – whatshisname, her mind went blank for a long moment while she stared at him as he twitched with excitement – Ryan, that was it, Ryan. His long willowy form swayed next to her like a sapling in the wind, while Adrian’s shadow dominated the corner of the office. Solid.
It’s what she needed. A team. Her team. She lowered her head, gazed down at her arms wrapped around herself and slowly loosened them. She’d always been a team player and at this time, when she least of all wanted to be alone, they’d closed ranks around her, to protect her, help her, support her.
When she raised her head, they were waiting. She pushed herself up from the chair, tugged her jacket into place.
‘Salter and Wainwright are good officers. I’ll wait to hear of any progress.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate everything you’re doing. This is not an easy case for anyone.’
Taylor nodded, the swirl of understanding lit his eyes. ‘I’ll keep you apprised of progress, Jenna, have no doubt.’
With a glance of approval, Adrian swung open the door and she slid by, tossing a look at Taylor over her shoulder. ‘I’ll be in my office. There are other cases to deal with while I’m waiting.’
She wasn’t sure she had the ability to deal with anything else, but what the hell else was she supposed to do? She could take time off, go home, sit in an empty house and worry about her sister. Or she could clear her head, look at her caseload and get on with her life while she could. At least if she was there in the station, she’d hear of any progress.
Aware of every single person casting her sympathetic glances as she strode along the hallways, down three flights of stairs and into her office, she shut the door behind her and leaned against it.
The light knock made her sigh with impatience, determined to ignore it. Five minutes. That’s all she needed, just five minutes to bring her emotions back under control. The gentle rap sounded again and, with a sigh, she stepped away from the door and let it swing open. It appeared no one was prepared to allow her five minutes alone.
Surprised the whole gang wasn’t there, she stared at Adrian. ‘Where’ve they gone?’
His serious eyes met hers with far too much understanding. ‘To see if they can track down Salter and Wainwright so they can get in on ground level, as Mason said.’
She turned away, the empathy in his gaze was too much, her throat thickened as she swallowed. She glanced at her watch to distract any attention he may pay to her. She’d put in a twelve hour day, and even the clean-cut Chief Crown Prosecutor had started to show signs of exhaustion.
She may not want to, but she needed to head home. There was nothing further she could do.
18
Saturday 27 October, 23:15 hrs
Stomach cramping, Fliss groaned as she ran her gaze around the empty room. How much longer would the man be? He’d been gone a lifetime and whilst he seemed to have cleaned her wounds up while she’d been out cold, he’d not left her anything to eat. Her stomach griped again in protest.
Mortified that he had stripped her legs bare and left them with a thin blanket over the top, revulsion skittered through her at the thought of what he may have done while she was unaware. Her only consolation was the revulsion he’d shown when he realised she bled. As though she was dirty.
She glanced down the length of her body, kicked aside the thin covering and studied the state of her naked legs. Relief swamped her at the sight of an over-large nappy – incontinence knickers – covering her lower half. The quick flood of embarrassment heated her cheeks at the humiliation.
She didn’t feel any different. There was no longer any throbbing pain from all the abrasions, and her hand had stopped its insistent pulsing. She chanced a look at it, managed to pull herself up onto her elbow to peer down at the injured limb.
Confusion stole through her mind, making her thought processes stutter to a halt. Her arm, from the tips of her now pink fingers through to her elbow, had been encased in what she assumed was a plaster cast. She fought to remember what had happened just before she blacked out and the surge of pain in her hand reminded her of what he’d done.
What the hell was he? He said he’d trained to be a doctor and a paramedic. He’d set her hand, plastered it. Her gaze cruised over her naked legs. Her pulse raced along with the thoughts in her mind. He’d been so angry, violence threatening to explode one moment and then suffocatingly obsequious the next, as though he couldn’t be kind enough to her.
He wasn’t bipolar, that was far too simplistic for his personality traits. Perhaps schizophrenic was the only way to describe him.
Fear popped the sweat out on her freezing skin.
Each gash had been stitched and abrasion treated, every area tended to with neat precision. Not the work of someone who didn’t know what they were doing, but with skill and a meticulous care. She sucked in and found her breathing less constrained, her nose less constricted. Had he also cleaned her face up? She frowned and pain shot the length of her nose. He’d broken her nose. And fixed it again.
Humiliated, she screwed her eyes closed. She had no memory of him fixing her, touching her body with revolting familiarity.
Neck aching from the effort, Fliss allowed her head to flop back on the thin pillow. The bright white of the ceiling arched over her head. Low. She thought back to when the man had come into the room. He hadn’t had to duck at all. Hard to judge height when you were lying flat, but he
couldn’t be too tall. In fact, quite a delicate build. If she was free, she could take him. She was strong enough, and although he wasn’t young, maybe in his early forties, he seemed like a… geek. She was fit, healthy, stronger than him, wasn’t she?
Tears gathered, and she let out a bitter laugh. If she was free…
He’d left the single bare light bulb burning, whether for her benefit or not, she didn’t know, but there were no windows, no natural light, not even seeping in from the gap around the two ill-fitting doors.
She rolled her head, cruised her gaze around the room, the stale mustiness of it filling her nostrils. The river, she could smell the river, and the tide mark from what she imagined was recent flooding came to just over halfway up the walls, leaving a dull grey smear of mould.
She screwed her eyes shut and worked her way through the fog in her brain. She had no way of knowing how long she’d been out cold originally but… the tideline. The evidence of rising waters. She had to be close to the river, close enough for the flood waters to invade the cellar from time to time. Relief swamped her. She was near the river, not too far away from home. She pulled in breath after breath. She was close to home.
She raised her plastered arm, placed the heavy weight of it on her stomach as it registered in her mind that her arm was no longer cuffed to the bed. Her ankles were free, and she could, if she wanted to, sit up. She tested the cuff on her other wrist, far too tight to slip her hand out of, but it enabled her to roll over onto her side and lever herself up into a sitting position.
Dizzy nausea swept over her in an ugly wave, almost knocking her on her back again. Sheer willpower kept her upright as she ground her teeth and hung onto the edge of the bed with her one good hand while she swayed, the floor coming up to meet her, then retracting at an alarming rate.
Fliss tempered her breathing and, by dint of sheer determination, managed to stay upright until the room stopped spinning.
Her stomach clenched in a violent protest against the lack of food while her gaze settled on the back of her undamaged hand. Bones stark under parched skin and blue veins sunk deep below the surface. Not only had he deprived her of food, but she was in desperate need of water. She was dangerously dehydrated.
