by Max Manning
“There’s nothing new scheduled at the moment. The last press release went out with the e-fit. Have you got a new line or more information you want us to push?”
Day wished he had something fresh to offer. “Unfortunately, no, but we could do with a little more coverage on this one. We desperately need new information or a witness to come out of the woodwork.”
Moody fell silent. Day could almost hear her brain whirring. “The problem is the press isn’t really turned on by this story. Yeah, the suspect reversed the car at her, but she escaped with a broken wrist. I think the press see it as a run-of-the-mill carjacking. They may be right, but we need more information to crack this case. You know what they’re looking for. Is there anything juicy we can give them?”
What the hell do these journalists want? Day thought. Blood? A rape? A murder? Those were exactly the things he and his team wanted to prevent by putting the suspect behind bars as soon as possible.
“Everything suggests that the man we’re after is an extremely violent, incredibly dangerous character who is not suddenly going to start behaving like a Boy Scout. It pisses me off that the press is not interested enough to help us. I bet they’ll be wetting themselves with excitement when he kills someone. Desperate to print everything we offer them.” Day paused, giving himself a moment to calm down. “Sorry, Helen. I know you aren’t to blame, but it’s bloody frustrating.”
“I know, but look, let me think about it. I’ll make some calls to a few news desks and try to whip up a bit more interest. We might be able to squeeze another appeal for information out of them.”
The Mastermind
Con Norton opened his eyes and gritted his teeth. He hated being woken. Swinging his long legs off the sofa, he sat up and listened. The knocking was loud but at the same time hesitant, as if the caller was secretly hoping that nobody was in.
Norton swore, stood up, and stretched his back. He didn’t have to answer the door to know who’d ruined his nap. Only one person ever called around to see him. The one person who knew where he lived. The knocking started again. Norton walked slowly to the door and yanked it open.
“What the fuck do you want?”
Kev Finch looked up at Norton, eyes wide with apprehension. A small man with narrow shoulders and heavy hips and thighs, he looked a decade older than his tenant although they were both in their late twenties.
“Er, hi, Con. Sorry to bother you. Hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“It is, actually. An extremely bad time.”
Finch blinked, momentarily lost for words. “Sorry.”
“You woke me up. An afternoon nap is a crucial part of my beauty regime. I take it very seriously. There’s got to be a reason I look so good, right?”
“Sorry,” Finch said, clearly unsure whether he should laugh and nervous about making the wrong choice.
Norton winked and let out a low chuckle. “Only joking, mate. You’re welcome anytime. You do own the place after all.”
“I didn’t mean to wake you, mate. If I’d known you were catching some z’s, I wouldn’t have knocked.”
“Don’t worry about it. What can I do for you?”
“It’s about the rent.”
Norton flashed his landlord a smile. “What about it?”
“You haven’t paid it.”
Norton had moved into the pokey apartment above Finch’s kebab shop three months ago. It had been a private arrangement, worked out after Norton overheard Finch moaning to friends that he was having troubling finding a tenant. Needless to say, the agreement didn’t involve a rental agent or the tax man. It meant Norton didn’t have to sign any paperwork or provide ID, and Finch avoided paying fees and tax. The rent was low, but Norton resented paying up, even when he had the cash.
Early on in their relationship, Norton had realized that two things drove Finch: greed and fear. Greed gave him the courage to knock on the door and ask to be paid what he was owed. Fear made him sweat like a man who suspected his tenant wouldn’t think twice about beating him to a pulp. Occasionally, Norton liked to encourage that belief.
“You know I lost that job?” Norton said.
“Yeah, you told me. I still need my rent though.”
Norton stared at the little man. He reminded him of a cockroach, the way he scuttled around the place. He stifled a powerful urge to knock Finch down and stamp on him until he cracked. Not yet, he told himself. Not until you’ve found somewhere else to stay.
“I’m a bit short of cash right now. I need a little more time. Trust me, I’ll have your money in a week or so, that’s all.”
As a result of the carjacking, he had plenty of cash, and he had been promised more. He simply didn’t want to share any of it with this excuse for a human being.
Finch wiped a line of sweat from his upper lip and dried his fingers on the front of his Hawaiian shirt.
“I need it soon, mate. I’ve got bills to pay, kebab meat to buy.”
Norton nodded and smiled as if he truly appreciated the situation, but when being nice to someone didn’t work, he got bored very quickly. He placed a hand on one of Finch’s puny shoulders and squeezed it gently. The unexpectedly friendly gesture earned him an embarrassed smile.
He grinned back and dug his thumb into the cluster of nerves between the little man’s neck and shoulder. Finch squealed like a pig and tried to squirm away. After a few seconds, Norton released his grip.
“You are making me angry now, and making me angry is like smoking. Hazardous to your health. I can’t pay you right now. Don’t you understand English? I’ll come find you as soon as I have the money.”
Finch stepped back and turned away. His head bowed, he rubbed his shoulder as he descended the wooden staircase.
15
Fight
The Detective
Day stood by the window watching the rain ripple the surface of a puddle spreading across the parking lot entrance. What a comedown. How had it come to this? His old office at New Scotland Yard had a view across the Thames.
Not for the first time, he wondered whether he’d been wrong to accept the stinging humiliation of demotion for the sake of clinging onto his job. Maybe he’d have been better off leaving the force, starting afresh.
Deep down, he knew the truth. His obsession with hunting killers had contributed to the breakup of his marriage, and the way it had ended had led to him being unceremoniously kicked off the murder investigation team.
He’d lost his family. How careless. He needed to stay in the force. Needed to belong to something, even if it meant having to grit his teeth and accept going back to investigating muggings and burglaries. Day clenched his fists. His life had crashed and fallen apart in a way he’d never expected, but he wasn’t prepared to give up. Not when there was still a chance that he could scoop up the pieces and put them back together.
His thoughts were interrupted when the door flew open and Shields entered carrying a copy of the Daily News. She dropped the newspaper onto his desk with a flourish.
“They’ve certainly gone to town on this one,” she said. “Pages one, four, and five.”
Day stepped closer. The front-page headline screamed Warrior for Women Fights Back. Beneath it sat a large headshot of Gem Golding, and next to that a subheading: Victim Fights Off Pervert, Then Mows Coward Down with Car He Tried to Steal.
Day glanced at Shields. “Pervert?”
She nodded. “That’s right. She talks about how the attacker groped her, effectively waiving her right to anonymity as a sexual assault victim.”
Day scanned the front page again. “It’s a bit too hysterical for my liking. Too sensational. Why can’t they stick to the facts?”
Shields crossed her arms and shrugged. “What did you expect? It’s the Daily News after all.”
Day flipped pages until he found the double-page spread inside. This time, t
he main headline asked the question Stand Up and Fight, or Surrender to Survive? The feature was illustrated with another photograph of a somber Gem Golding and a grainy still from the security camera footage of the incident showing the back of the attacker’s head.
In addition to the interview with Golding, there was another report by Matt Revell focusing on the confusion and conflicting advice about what to do if you are attacked and an article featuring tips from a self-defense expert. Next to the article, a large graphic of a faceless man, decorated with red dots, helpfully showed readers exactly where they would find an attacker’s eyes, neck, and groin.
Day sat down, pulled the newspaper closer, and skimmed the text. The force’s press office had put out a statement advising the public that the first thing any victim of violent crime should look to do is run away. If circumstances meant that was impossible, then hand over any valuables the attacker demands. Day noticed that there was no advice to readers about what to do if the person attacking you wasn’t interested in your property or money, if the only thing he wanted was you.
The statement had been edited down to a couple of paragraphs and tacked on the end of the center spread. Day knew that ninety-nine percent of Daily News readers had the attention span of a goldfish and would give up reading well before they got to the last third of the article.
He shook his head slowly and pushed the newspaper aside. “You know what’s going to happen now, don’t you?”
Shields had a pretty good idea what her boss was getting at, but she didn’t bother replying. It was clear he was going to explain whether she needed telling or not.
“What’s going to happen is that shit is going to hit the fan, and we’re going to have to clean up the mess. We’re going to get a rash of incidents across the city where victims are badly beaten, stabbed, or even shot because they read this junk and decide it would be great fun to put their lives at risk by standing up to the bad guy and refusing to hand over their stuff.”
Shields stayed silent. Day understood she was waiting for him to calm down before she said anything. He hadn’t been sure about her when they’d first met, but he was warming to her.
Gem the Warrior
Gem finished off her banana muesli and sneaked a look across the table at Drew. They’d both used their tablets to read the interview on the newspaper’s website while eating breakfast. She had rushed through the article and finished first. Drew had been more thorough. After reaching the end, he made no comment. He turned off his device and focused all his attention on his bowl of cereal.
Gem knew a bad sign when she saw one. Her boyfriend was the kind of person who loved to voice his opinion about anything and everything. In anyone else, she’d describe it as an irritating trait, but his willingness to say what he was thinking was one of the things that had initially drawn her to him.
She let her spoon fall into the empty bowl with a clang. “Okay then, come on. Tell me. What do you think?”
Drew pushed his half-eaten breakfast away. “To be honest, there’s too much unnecessary detail for my liking.”
Gem waited for him to say more, but he fell silent and stared pointedly at his wristwatch. It was the groping that rankled. She knew that.
“I told the truth, that’s all. I want people to know exactly what happened.”
“Why? Why is that so important to you?”
Gem hesitated. She needed to choose her words carefully. She wanted Drew to understand her motives, whether he agreed with them or not.
“It can only be a good thing if people, both women and men, talk about and think about how best to respond when threatened with violence. I almost froze, and I dread to think what would have happened if I had, but in the end, I got lucky. Why should I stay silent? I didn’t choose to be attacked. That savage chose me, and I want people to know exactly what happened.”
“Well, they do now. There’s no doubt about that.” Drew stood up, lifted his glass of orange juice, and downed it in one gulp. “I need to get going. Got an early meeting.”
Gem stayed sitting at the table as he disappeared into the hallway and ran up the stairs. After a minute or so of pacing and door banging, she heard his footsteps pounding down the staircase. He stepped into the kitchen, his black leather backpack hitched over one shoulder.
“Do you want me to walk you to the gym?”
Gem shook her head. “It’s what I say about him groping me, isn’t it?”
Drew slid his backpack off and lowered it to the floor. “I don’t see why you had to mention it. You’re the woman who fought off a violent attacker. You fought back and escaped. That’s a great story. Good positive stuff. I think some things are better kept private.”
Tears pricked Gem’s eyes. She wiped them away. “Why should I be embarrassed about what he did? I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. I’m not guilty of anything.”
Drew walked over to the table, pulled her gently to her feet, and hugged her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. What happened was terrible. Such a shock. To be honest, my head is all over the place. I feel guilty that I wasn’t there to protect you. I can’t think straight.”
Gem pressed her face into his chest. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m going to be okay.”
He squeezed her tighter, and for the first time since the attack, she felt safe.
“I’ll try to get home early tonight,” Drew said. “We can talk more about what happened if that’s what you want.”
She nodded and kissed him softly on the lips. As he turned and scooped up his backpack, the house telephone rang.
“Can you get that?” Gem said, her stomach churning.
Drew frowned, checked his watch, and strode into the hall.
Gem stayed sitting at the breakfast table and listened.
“Hello? Hello?”
Gem held her breath.
“Hello? No. We don’t want solar panels. I told you, we don’t want or need solar panels.”
Drew put the phone down, ran back into the kitchen, and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Got to go,” he said and headed for the door, slamming it behind him.
Gem breathed out.
It took her less than ten minutes to walk to the gym. A member for three months, she’d joined as part of the January wave of people riven with guilt over their festive season indulgence.
It was strange how she and Drew were so different, she thought. She’d always enjoyed exercise, particularly running, but he always had an excuse not to join her. He’d be too busy or too tired and liked to point out reports in the media about the health dangers of breathing in traffic fumes while jogging.
It had always amazed her that he kept so slim, but then he ate well and definitely drank less wine than she did. Gem was a party girl and proud of it. Work hard and play hard had always been one of her favorite sayings. Drew preferred drinks in a quiet bar and romantic dinners. One of the things that used to regularly set them bickering was Drew’s obsession with keeping the house spotless. He despaired at the way she liked to leave wineglasses, magazines, teacups, and dirty plates scattered around the house. She’d laugh off his complaints and advise him to loosen up and relax a little.
In the end, they’d reached an informal truce. She’d try not to leave stuff lying around, and when she did, he’d clear it away without moaning. They were certainly very different characters, but their relationship worked, most of the time.
Stepping into the gym’s reception area, she spotted a copy of the Daily News spread open on the counter. She flashed her membership card and charged through the swing doors before the skinny blond receptionist could even think about engaging her in conversation.
A few minutes later, she emerged from the changing rooms, clutching a bottle of mineral water. She walked through the main gym, drawing curious glances, and headed for the weight training area. Her upper body strength was poor. That was going t
o change.
She sat on a rubber warm-up mat, crossed her legs, and took a sip of water. What had happened to her must have been traumatic for Drew too. He’d need time to come to terms with it. At least he was prepared to talk it through. That was important. Perhaps tonight would be the right time to mention the silent telephone calls. Once she’d told him, then they could both go to the police.
Over the past week, she’d had at least three calls a day, sometimes four or five. They always started after Drew left for work and ceased after he returned home. She had tried not answering and leaving the telephone off the hook, but not knowing whether he was calling was almost as disturbing as listening to him breathing.
Gem thought of the caller as a him. It wasn’t an assumption. She knew. It wasn’t a random him either. Every time she held the phone listening to him not speaking, she could feel his body pressed against hers, his fingers tightening around her throat.
She trembled at the memory, fear-fueled anger flooding through her. She’d fought him off, drawn his blood, and escaped unharmed. Now she knew, with chilling certainty, that it wasn’t over.
16
Surrender
Gem the Victim
Gem studied herself in the mirror. She loved her new look, despite Drew’s reaction when he had walked in last night. The angled bob was stylish, he’d conceded, but he’d been less impressed with the change of color, insisting that copper didn’t suit her complexion. She hadn’t realized he was such an expert on skin tones. Tough. He was going to have to put up with it.
Once he’d stopped sulking about her new hair, Gem had broken the news that she was going back to work the next day. She had expected an argument, but he hadn’t tried to change her mind. Instead, he’d sulked a bit more, pointing out that he’d gotten used to her being at home a lot more and would miss that. Gem allowed herself a smile. Since her discharge from the hospital, they’d made the most of the opportunity to spend time together. They’d done a lot of talking, about the past and the future, and had a lot of early nights.
