Melissa took her time to answer, then sniffed. ‘I’m sorry, Dad.’
‘Don’t be sorry.’ His reply was instant, well practiced. They’d been through this more than once before, this exact exchange. He imagined the rest of the conversation would be a familiar one too. Harry was trying to keep the message to his daughter consistent. He wanted her to keep speaking to him and knew that wouldn’t happen if he sounded like he was allocating blame. He wasn’t. He was learning all the time what depression was. He knew this wasn’t her fault. He also knew that he should be delighted all the while she was saying she was sorry. It showed an awareness of the impact on other people. When depression took a proper hold it could take away that concern for upsetting others, and that could be the last barrier to finishing the task.
‘I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to have to come here again,’ she said.
‘I know that. No one wants to feel like this. I’m only here to help.’
She flickered a faint smile. ‘Thank you, Dad.’
‘What happened?’
‘Cutting.’ She was so quiet Harry almost missed it.
‘Okay.’ Harry fell silent. He wanted Melissa to feel that she didn’t need to give more detail, but that it was okay to do so. He suppressed all the questions he had.
‘I’ve been struggling. I was getting there, you know. But it was on the news yesterday. Did you see it?’
‘See what?’
‘That man . . . the man who killed mum. It made the news and someone shared it on social media. I know you said it would happen. My mate shared it and she just asked if I was okay. I might not have seen it if they hadn’t tagged me.’
‘I didn’t see it.’ He hadn’t, either. He wasn’t on social media and he rarely bothered with the news anymore.
‘They named you. Mum, too . . .’ Melissa took a moment and sniffed again. She was able to lift her eyes now; they looked heavy, puffed and red. ‘I think it just caught me at a weak moment.’
‘Okay. And how do you feel now?’
‘Stupid!’ She choked a laugh and shook her head. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Like I said, you don’t need to be saying that. Is it bad?’
She looked back at her arm. The fingers on the hand flinched. ‘I had a couple of goes. It was just superficial at first, just seeing if I could. But then I had a good go. At the wrist. Josh . . .’ She broke down. Harry waited her out. He wanted to hear the rest; he couldn’t rush her. ‘If Josh hadn’t been there . . . I don’t know. I don’t know what would have happened. I got it really deep. The second time I thought it was going to go. The scary thing . . . I was trying by then! I just want to stop feeling like this . . .’ She broke down again and Harry moved in for a hug. He took hold of her tightly, felt her shudder against his shoulder as she sobbed. He swallowed hard to control his own emotion, but it wasn’t sadness he was desperate to control, it was anger — rage even. He could feel it. It started as a knot in his stomach and it tensed his limbs as it spread out. He held his breath, his hug on his daughter got tighter. He let her go when he heard the curtain go again.
‘Hey. Your tea.’ Josh was back. He put a steaming cup down on the table beside Melissa. Harry stepped right back. ‘I’m sorry I called you. I didn’t know what to do, really. I was waiting for the ambulance and just putting a lot of pressure on her cut, you know. It seemed like the right thing. I saw you called back. I couldn’t answer.’
‘It’s fine.’ Harry couldn’t say more; the rage was threatening to take him over.
‘Melissa didn’t want me to call. She said you spoke recently and she told you me and her . . . we weren’t . . . together, you know. We didn’t want you to find out like this. I should have been more up front . . . I could have spoken to you or something . . .’
Harry had to step away. He’d barely been listening. He couldn’t speak. He pushed open the curtain and stepped through it. He walked a short distance away. There was movement all around him, he balled his hands into fists and rested them both on the wall so they took his weight. He stayed like that just long enough for his head to clear then he walked back to his daughter. Josh turned to him as he pushed back the curtain. He was clearly tense, too, rigid and leaning away. Harry made right for him. Josh flinched, brought his arms up to his midriff as if ready to defend himself. Harry jutted out his hand. Josh eyed it for a second then took it up. The handshake was firm.
‘You did good, kid,’ Harry said. ‘Thank you.’
Josh nodded.
‘He looks after me, Dad!’ Melissa suddenly chuckled through tears.
Stephen walked back in. He had picked up a folder and he appeared to read from the front page.
‘Melissa Blaker . . . Are you okay for me to speak in front of your dad and boyfriend here?’ He looked cheerily at Harry and Josh in turn.
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Okay. Well, we have three deep lacerations to your right arm there, one of which is particularly deep and has gone through the hypodermis layer, which is where you start getting to the really important stuff. We are going to require stitches, I’m afraid — I’m not going to be able to glue something that severe. I do have a couple of additional concerns, namely infection treatment and mental health. This is a wound you inflicted on yourself, is that correct?’
‘Yes.’ Melissa was back to staring at her bandaging.
‘I’d like to get you assessed by our mental health team here. I have spoken to the Crisis Team and they have confirmed that you are known to them. They’ll will come and see you in the morning. I have found you a bed and once we get you stitched up we’ll keep you in for an assessment. I know you have been on medication previously for depression and anxiety. I’d like to get that reviewed, just so we can get you back on the level.’ Stephen smiled. ‘Does that sound okay?’ Harry thought his manner overall was like he was booking someone into a hotel suite, as if he had just told them the number to call for room service.
‘Okay,’ Melissa replied.
Stephen looked at Harry and Josh again. ‘Now, I might be able to swing it for one of you to stick around. I can’t promise a bed — a seat next to Melissa maybe. But only one. The other can sit in the waiting room, of course, but it’s not a comfortable option when we might be talking about a twelve-hour wait or more for this all to play out.’
Melissa was staring straight at Harry. ‘Go home, Dad. Get some sleep. You will have work in the morning. Josh, you can go too. I’m fine now.’
‘I’d rather stay. For you,’ Josh said.
Melissa beamed at him.
Harry wanted to stay but could see his daughter had made her choice. ‘Fine. But I want to know the moment you get out of here.’
‘No problem.’ Both Melissa and Josh spoke at the same time, then laughed at each other.
‘One of you at least.’ Harry managed a tired attempt at a smile himself. He sent Josh back out for a black coffee. He would stay a little while longer at least. He found himself staring at her bandaged wound. He couldn’t help it.
‘How are you getting on with the watch?’ He was caught out. His eyes shot to his own wrist and the cheap and battered steel watch his wife had purchased for him when he had first started his police career.
‘Oh, I just grabbed the first one I saw. I was in a bit of a rush to get out of bed.’
‘You’ve tried it, then?’
‘Of course.’
‘And?’
‘It’s good at keeping me aware, like you said.’
‘But you hate it? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you bother to pretend you like something when you really don’t. I mean, you’re terrible at it, but it still feels like progress.’
‘That’s not . . .’ Harry petered out. ‘I’ll give it another go, okay? Maybe it’s something I can get used to.’
Melissa chuckled. ‘It was Faye’s idea. I told her it was a bad one.’
‘I never said it was a bad one. I just need to give it some more time, to get used to it.’
‘Don’t wor
ry, I’ll tell Faye you love it. And I’ll be far more convincing than you.’
‘I’m sure you will,’ Harry conceded. ‘You mother said the same: I never have been much good at pretending.’
‘That’s the best thing about you, Dad. Don’t ever change!’
Harry smirked. He was supposed to be here building his daughter back up. Once again the roles had switched and the shift had been seamless.
‘You’re just like your mother. That means you can’t ever change either.’
Melissa suddenly seemed overwhelmed and sobbed again. Josh chose this moment to reappear with Harry’s coffee.
‘You okay? What happened?’
Melissa gave a sob that was mixed up with laughter.
‘My Dad! That’s what happened.’
* * *
When Harry made it back home it was nearly 5 a.m. and there didn’t seem like any point in going back to bed. He sat in his armchair instead, considering that he might be able to doze despite feeling wide awake. He clicked through the channels for a short time then, with a sudden realisation, he paced back into his bedroom. When he returned to his chair, he clutched a state-of-the-art smartwatch in one hand and the instruction manual in the other. This seemed like a far more effective way to doze off. Sure enough it was a couple of hours later when he woke from his nap. He still had the open booklet in his hand and the television was showing a young woman stood in front of a map of the UK. She instantly beamed a good morning and told him that, overall, it was going to be a beautiful day. Harry clicked the television off and walked stiffly towards the shower.
‘We’ll see,’ he said to the silence of his home.
Chapter 17
Thursday
Maddie’s stride felt stronger that morning, stronger than it had the day before at least. She’d slept better for a start, but the wind was gone, too. Her morning route took her from the promenade just across from her flat in Sandgate and then left at a building used as a Rowing Club to head in the general direction of Langthorne. Most days there was a coastal breeze at the very least, but on this occasion there was nothing at all. It wasn’t far before the promenade widened and there was some hard standing on her left that met with a road. It provided vehicular access to the seafront and to the rear of a number of million-pound houses dug higher up into the cliff edge above. There were about ten of them in total and all had paths chasing up their steep gardens from the pebble beach.
Maddie’s eyes, though, were invariably pulled right to the sparkling, heaving sea. She loved the shoreline especially. On this day the water had a gentle rhythmic movement over the glittering pebbles, like it was a huge living thing, breathing in and out. The day before, with a stronger wind, it had been a constant churning. Both were beautiful in their own right. She had planned on this being her last run of the week but the run this morning felt almost effortless and, with the sun making a better effort to warm her face, it was a genuine pleasure. She closed her eyes to it for just a second. Her phone rang.
‘Goddammit!’ She remembered a time when she didn’t need to take her phone out with her. But she had been convinced that training for a marathon required a fitness-planning app to track her heart rate and steps among other things. Her first instinct was to ignore the call but it was still before 6 a.m.: it had to be important.
By the time she’d peeled off her gloves and wrested the phone from its holder, the caller had rung off. She saw that the missed a call was from Rhiannon. She called her straight back.
‘Did I wake you?’ Rhiannon said instantly.
‘You did. I was having a lovely dream. It was all about having another hour of sleep before I even needed to think about getting up.’
Rhiannon didn’t answer immediately. ‘You’re lying, aren’t you!’
‘Yes, but you’re lucky!’
‘I figured you’re always up. Is today a run day?’
‘It’s always a run day too. Maybe one day you’ll come back out with me rather than just saying you will.’
‘Is that healthy? Training every day?’
‘Nice dodge.’
‘I will come back out with you. I’m building up to it. But again, is it healthy to be out every day?’
‘I don’t know, Rhiannon, but it’s bad enough having a smartphone telling me when I need to run and when I don’t — I don’t need you getting involved too! I’m worried that if I stop, I won’t get going again. This marathon thing was a stupid idea.’
‘I did tell you that.’
‘You did. Is that why you phoned me? To remind me it’s a stupid idea while I’m stood on the promenade getting cold?’
‘I thought I could hear the seagulls! I couldn’t sleep, Maddie.’
‘So what, you thought you would call me and make sure I couldn’t either?’
‘I wanted to see if you fancied a breakfast meeting before work. I wanted to run a few things past you about my investigation. Usual place?’
Maddie looked at her watch. She still had plenty of time. ‘Opening?’ she said, knowing that it opened for 7 a.m.
‘Perfect.’
‘One condition.’
‘What?’
‘You come out with me. Tomorrow! You’ll love it — the sunrise over the sea, the sun in your face, the endorphins.’
‘This hasn’t quite gone to plan. I can get up for a cooked breakfast, but a run . . .’
‘Your choice.’
‘Fine! You win.’
‘I always will, Rhiannon. You’d do well to remember that.’
‘See you there for my cooked breakfast! I’ll be the one smiling with a menu. Then I’ll see you tomorrow for a run . . . when I won’t be.’
Maddie chuckled. She could tell from Rhiannon’s voice that she was beaming too.
* * *
The smell was a mixture of everything: muffins, bacon, avocado and coffee and it struck Maddie all at once. She was always hungry after a run but that smell amplified it to the point where she knew she was going to have to be careful not to undo all of her morning’s work. Rhiannon was already sitting down with a steaming mug in front of her. She waved as Maddie entered. Maddie ordered her drink and made her way over.
‘Been a while.’
‘A while?’ Rhiannon eyed her like she was expecting more teasing.
‘Since we’ve done this.’ Maddie gestured at the quiet interior of the café. It was early and the staff were still setting up. Maddie had just passed a man battling with the sandwich board outside.
‘Oh I see! I thought you were still going on about how I haven’t been out for a run in a little bit.’
‘A little bit?’
Rhiannon shrugged. ‘A big bit, then!’
‘It’s fine, it doesn’t matter at all, really.’
‘Good.’
‘Because you’re coming out with me tomorrow!’
‘At six a.m.?’
‘Thereabouts. That’s a little late to be honest.’
‘Jesus, Maddie.’
‘A deal’s a deal. We’re here doing your thing and I’ll help where I can and then tomorrow you have to come and do my thing. You’ll love it when you’re out.’
‘There is literally nothing I love before seven a.m. I’ve ordered us both the usual anyway. It was going to be my treat but you can forget that now!’
‘Fair enough! You obviously want something. So how can I help?’
Rhiannon suddenly looked a lot more serious. ‘I just wanted to talk about the developments from yesterday. I didn’t want to come and talk to you in the office about it . . .’
‘In case Harry was there?’
Rhiannon looked a little awkward. ‘That might have been a consideration. He just didn’t seem impressed with what I was doing. I wanted to check with you, to see if maybe I’m making mistakes,’ she said.
‘Not at all. He used to make me feel like that all the time too, he’s very good at saying exactly what he means but in a way that makes people think he might mean something different.’<
br />
‘He wasn’t upset with me, then?’
‘No. And why would he be? Harry’s job is to question everything we do — all of us — to make sure we’re doing the right things. He has no ability to soften that.’
‘Okay. He was probably right about not needing to send two detectives and about the ID — it’s not really an ID yet. I guess I just got excited—’
‘And you should be. Police work is a lot about what-ifs. You could send two detectives and have it turn out to be a waste of their time, or you could send five detectives and it turns into a major lead where you haven’t got enough manpower. Harry has the experience to know that you keep your resources central and allocate them when you know what you have, but experience is the one thing you can do nothing about. It comes with working cases, with leading investigations like this, with doing what you’re doing. And you’re doing great.’
‘Thanks. I mean it. I don’t think I’ve done anything yet without second guessing it.’
‘Me neither. That is something that may never change! So what do we know?’
‘Well, I sent Mick Pearson to pick up the enquiry. I reckon he falls into the experienced category too.’
‘I should say.’ Mick had been on Maddie’s team for a short time when she was a CID sergeant. He was the sort of detective that had you wishing for six more to complete your team. He was a seasoned detective who knew the job inside out. You could give him a job at the start of shift and then just sit back and wait for a good resolution by the end. Detectives like that were few and far between.
‘He was able to talk to the social worker who got in touch with us. He met her at her home address quite late last night. I put him up in a hotel but he sent a written report. It was nearly midnight when it came through. I’m just after some advice really about where we go next.’
‘Okay, so what do we know?’
‘Well, yesterday I gave you a possible name of Alex Thompson. That was from a single picture that we sent out to Social Services across the country. Mick took another few pictures with him and the social worker’s more convinced now — says she’s ninety-nine percent. I know what the boss might say, but I’m working on the assumption that it’s Alex Thompson. For now at least.’
HE WILL FIND YOU an absolutely gripping crime thriller with a massive twist Page 17
