Detective Amanda Lacey Box Set

by Linda Coles

  But had he just gone for pizza? Or had he packed a few things while she’d slept? Had she slept? With the sudden realization he could have already left, she flew from the lounge and back upstairs. She ran into Jasmine’s room and flung open the wardrobe. Frantically, she assessed the contents: backpack and shoes still there, clothing still there. She bolted into Victoria’s room; everything was still there, too. She let out another deep breath. Nothing was missing. They hadn’t gone for good. This time.

  Her heart was still pounding. She realized she had been as terrified, just now, as she had been earlier that morning when the girls had gone missing. No, this wouldn’t do at all. This was a feeling she never wanted to have again, one to be avoided at all costs. With a new feeling of determination, she headed back to the bathroom and a much-needed shower. If she was going to change the status quo at home, she needed to start right now. Nobody, not anybody, was going to take her children away from her. Not ever.

  As steam filled the room and Sam stood under the hot water, another option came to her. A slight smile played on her mouth as it developed into something resembling a plan. Slowly she carried on soaping herself, replacing her sour smell with lemon zest, her idea filling her with fresh new hope. Her mother had always said there was more than one way to skin a cat, and Sam had just realized what that other way would be.

  Get rid of Duncan.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Duncan and the girls were nearly home. They’d gone out for pizza together and then stopped off for ice cream. Victoria and Jasmine were side by side in their booster seats in the back seat. Patting her stomach, Victoria exclaimed, “I’m stuffed, Daddy. Do you think I’ll be sick?”

  Laughing lightly, Duncan replied, “I hope not, because that would mean a waste of pizza and a messy car.”

  Jasmine piped up, “And stinky too. You’d be stinky.”

  Both girls began giggling, and Duncan joined in, shaking his head and thoroughly enjoying himself. As he turned into Clumber Road, he realized he hadn’t had so much fun in a while.

  “We should do this more often, just the three of us. What do you say?”

  A chorus of “Yeah!” filled the car as he pulled into the driveway and parked up. The girls leapt out of the vehicle and dashed to the front door. It opened, and Duncan saw Sam standing there. She was showered and dressed, he noted with surprise. Perhaps their conversation earlier had had an effect. He watched as she bent to give the girls a kiss on the cheek each as they passed through and stood to one side as Duncan approached.

  “They look happy,” she said to him. “What did you do for dinner?”

  “Pizza and ice cream – every kid’s dream.” He wasn’t frosty as he replied, but he wasn’t exactly warm either. “They might be on a sugar high for an hour or so but I figured today hadn’t been like any other and they deserved a treat.”

  He carried on through to the lounge, gathering the girls’ coats to put back in the cupboard. The girls were fizzing with giggly energy; Jasmine was bouncing up and down on the sofa. Duncan hadn’t the heart to tell her to slow down so he ignored it.

  “I’ll go and run you a bubble bath, then you can read for a while before sleep, okay?” he told them, to a chorus of groans. “I think you’ve had enough fun for one day, and reading is good for you, remember? It makes the brain bigger, so you get to be cleverer than the other kids at school.”

  How many lies did parents tell their children while they were growing up, he mused? Father Christmas and the Easter Bunny were two straight off, never mind carrots making you see in the dark and crusts making curls in your hair. What hogwash. The biggest lie that Duncan had found out while growing up was there really wasn’t a tooth fairy either, having caught his dad putting money under his pillow in exchange for a tooth. He’d worked hard on dislodging it fully in anticipation of seeing what the tooth fairy looked like and hadn’t been expecting his dad that night. From then on, he’d questioned all of the major events a child looked forward to, his inquisitive mind demanding to know the real answers, and as his parents couldn’t come up with proof that any of these mythical beings did exist, that had been the end of that.

  He herded the girls up the stairs and went into the bathroom to start running their bath. He focused on adding bubble gum-scented bubbles to the bath water and stared into them as they formed on the surface, steam rising and clinging to the window. By the time bath time had finished, the glass would be running rivers of moisture down onto the tiled sill like fresh tears pooling. Maybe the room could sense the emotion in the house. He swished the water round; the temperature was just right. Standing at the bathroom door, he called them both.

  “Bath is ready – Victoria, Jasmine!”

  As they trotted in and began to undress, he left the room to gather their nightclothes and give them some privacy. He let them bathe in peace, leaving the door open so he could hear them from the bedroom next door. When they were dried and dressed, he’d go back in.

  He sat on the end of the bed and listened to their girl talk. They were seemingly unaware he was close by.

  “Do you think Mummy is all right?” Jasmine asked.

  “I think so. Grownups cry sometimes. I know Kate’s mum cries all the time – she told me.”

  “Why?”

  “Tummy ache sometimes, I think. Grownups get tummy ache too.”

  “Oh.”

  Duncan couldn’t help smiling at their naivety; they had so much yet to learn about life and growing up. He heard Sam climbing the stairs and he watched her as she put her head around the door and chatted briefly with them. To his surprise, she came and sat down next to him on the bed.

  “Are you feeling a bit better?” he asked.

  Without turning she replied that she was, that she had taken a shower and felt better, that she was sorry for yelling.

  Duncan nodded mutely. After a couple of minutes of silence, he said, “I’m going into work for a couple of hours shortly. Will you be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine. We’ll be fine. I’ll probably be asleep when you get back. It’s been a draining day.”

  “Yes, yes it has,” he agreed.

  The girls came out of the bathroom, struggling into their nighties. Behind them, water gurgled noisily down the plughole.

  “Right,” he told Sam. “I’ll say goodnight to them, and I’ll be off.”

  When Sam heard the front door close behind him, she went back down the stairs to find her phone and dialled Anika’s number.

  “Would you mind coming over for an hour? Only I need to pop out and Duncan is at work. The girls are both tucked up asleep.”

  Anika asked if she was all right.

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just need to nip to the all-night chemist.” She waited for Anika’s response.

  “Great. See you soon.”

  Sam knew that her youth, her swollen eyes and her haggard look meant the night chemist probably wouldn’t question handing over a packet of strong codeine-filled painkillers.

  That was what she was banking on, anyway. But first she’d have to find a chemist who didn’t recognize her as a recent visitor.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Duncan left the house feeling a little brighter himself. He was pleased that Sam had had a shower and got dressed, even though it was nearly time to go back to bed. It was a start, though; he hoped his words had hit home.

  The streets were dark save for the amber-yellow haze of the streetlights, and on a cold damp evening, there weren’t too many people out, on foot or otherwise. He was in the station car park and parked up in only a handful of minutes. He scanned the other vehicles to see who else was working and noticed Rochelle’s black Triumph motorbike sat in the corner. It always made him smile; she was the perfect type of woman to ride such a thing – hot, fast and not to be messed with. He pushed the thought away quickly. He needed to keep a clear head.

  The corridor into the building was quiet as he headed to the squad room and his desk. Rochelle saw him arrive and s
auntered over, her head cocked questioningly to one side.

  “What are you doing here? We didn’t expect you in tonight.”

  “I had to get out the house. And the girls are fine after their adventure so I thought I’d come in for a couple of hours. There are still a couple of children out there needing our help.” He gave a weak smile and Rochelle picked up on his vibe.

  “I’m just headed to the canteen. Want a cuppa?”

  “Why not? Then you can fill me in where you’re up to.”

  “And you can fill me in on why the long face,” she said knowingly.

  Duncan lowered his head slightly. “That obvious, eh?”

  “I’m a detective too, remember?”

  “So you are. But save the interrogation, all right? I’ve had enough for one day.”

  “We’ll see,” she said as they made their way towards the canteen. No matter the time, there was always the smell of coffee brewing or lingering food smells, sometimes good and sometimes, well, not so. Tonight, the odour of curry lingered in the air and Duncan remembered he hadn’t eaten. While the girls had stuffed themselves silly, he’d had no appetite; the stresses of their disappearance and then rowing with Sam had seen to that. But now his stomach was catching up with him.

  “Have you eaten?” he asked Rochelle. “That curry smells good.”

  “I had some earlier, but you go ahead. It wasn’t bad, actually.” She placed their order – a plate of chicken curry for Duncan, a mug of tea for herself. The cashier looked bored stiff, waiting for her shift to be up so she could go home. They made their way to a deserted table in the middle of the functional dining-cum-relaxation room and Duncan sat down heavily on a plastic chair. A ‘whoosh’ escaped his lungs involuntarily.

  “So, what happened at home? You look like shit.”

  Duncan smiled. Rochelle was never one to mince words. “You’re too kind. Just feeling pretty deflated and a little wrung out. The girls are safe and well…” Duncan let the sentence hang in the air.

  “Go on,” Rochelle probed. “I can sense there’s more.”

  “Sam and I are most certainly not.”

  “How so? What happened this time?”

  “I told her it was her fault they had gone. It was on her lookout and she dropped the ball completely.”

  “Ouch. That wouldn’t have gone down well, I’m assuming.” Her tea arrived and she wrapped her hands around the mug like it was a comfort blanket and took a sip while the cashier informed Duncan his curry was en route. He watched the bored woman saunter back to the kitchen to await his plate for delivery. Absentmindedly, he wondered about her life for a moment or two, what she had to go home to. Did she have someone? Not everyone did. He was aware Rochelle had stopped chatting.

  “Sorry. I was miles away. What did you say?”

  Raising her voice slightly, she said, “I said I assume that didn’t go down well, you saying it was her fault and all.”

  “No. We rowed, and I threw her an ultimatum.” The cashier returned and placed his curry in front of him. He picked up a fork and dug in, scooping rice and tikka masala up in one motion. “Mmm, not bad,” he said. He scooped up more with the side of his fork and ate.

  “This is like pulling teeth,” groaned Rochelle. “What was the ultimatum? Have I got to guess?”

  “Sorry, mate. I’m just really hungry. It’s been a long day. But to answer your question, I told her if she didn’t sort herself out and at least apply for a job or two, I was out and I’d take the girls with me.”

  He took another forkful and Rochelle watched him as he chewed, waiting for him to swallow and go on. When he didn’t, she said, “I’m guessing that didn’t go down well either. No wonder you’re feeling rough. Have you left her on speaking terms this evening or is it the sofa for you tonight?”

  “Well, we’re speaking, and when I got back with the girls after pizza, at least she’d had a shower, so my words must have had some effect.” He cleared the last forkful of curry into his mouth and Rochelle watched and waited for him to carry on.

  “We’ll see,” he said at last. “I hope she does sort herself out.” He put his fork down and wiped his mouth on a serviette. “But I’m serious. I will leave with the girls. I can’t trust her. This isn’t the first time things have gone haywire since she was made redundant. It’s like she’s lost her grip on life, and I can’t deal with it.” Rochelle nodded and he carried on. “I have to know the girls are safe at all times and I don’t think that’s too much to ask. There’s already two children missing. I don’t want there to be any more.”

  “I agree with you there.”

  There was nothing more to say, really. They stood, ready to get back to work. Duncan realized he was feeling more invigorated for both the chat and a decent meal.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Thank the lord for Anika, Sam thought as she searched for her bag and slipped some shoes on. Since the two lived close by, it would only take her friend a minute or two to get to the house and then Sam could get on with finding a chemist that didn’t know her. If she’d had the cash, it would be easier and probably quicker to go to the house for a pill and a cup of pretend tea, but she’d only got £10 in her purse and not a lot in the housekeeping account to draw another lot out. She knew Duncan watched the account and though he’d never asked her to explain every penny, she felt like she should be as inconspicuous as possible so as not to raise his suspicions.

  Car headlights came around the corner and she pulled the curtains closed and made her way to the door. As Anika pulled up, Sam scurried over to the car and waited for the engine to stop and her friend to get out.

  “Thanks so much, Anika. I owe you one! I’ll only be a few minutes, promise,” she said gaily as she turned and trotted to her own car. She pressed the fob to unlock it and jumped in quickly before Anika could ask any further questions. She reversed out onto the road and waved airily to Anika, who was now stood in the open doorway. Sam watched in her rear-view mirror as the front door closed. With luck, the girls would be none the wiser that their mother wasn’t home.

  Again.

  Sam drove to the nearest chemist and parked up outside. Through the window she could see a handful of people waiting in line for their prescriptions and contemplated trying her luck. If the pharmacist was busy, he might not give her the third degree about what she needed the tablets for or recognize her from her custom last week. And the previous week. The “terrible period pains” and “bad head” excuses could only work for so long, and she knew she’d likely be getting a sideways glance this time at the very least.

  As she watched, a customer came out; that left three others still inside. Undoing her seatbelt, she took a deep breath. She figured she might as well try, because the next chemist was a bit of a drive away and she really didn’t want to be out too long. After all, she’d promised Anika she’d only be a few minutes. The cool night air wrapped itself around her as she made her way inside the shop and joined the end of the queue. The pharmacist gave her a cursory glance but nothing more. Had he recognized her fleetingly? Or was she imagining it? Sam kept her head lowered as she shuffled forward to wait her turn to be served, wishing she’d brought a cap to disguise or change her appearance slightly. Was she being paranoid now? As the person in front of her, an elderly woman with a walking stick, turned and made her way slowly towards the door, Sam stepped forward. Her turn now. She did her best to look ill, and frankly this time it wasn’t hard: her mouth had gone dry, and the words felt like bricks in her mouth.

  “A. . . A. . . A packet of Paramol, please,” she stammered. Sam tried for a little eye contact, hoping it would make her look less suspicious, but she knew the pharmacist would ask the question regardless.

  “Can I ask what you’ll be using them for?”

  “Dental pain. I have really bad toothache,” she said, and rubbed her lower jaw convincingly.

  “Have you used them before?” he enquired, sounding like he was on autopilot. To her relief, he wasn’t p
aying her much attention, simply asking the question to satisfy his professional obligations but too busy to really care about a truthful answer.

  “Yes, occasionally.” She smiled, but he was looking at his computer screen.

  “Seven pounds, please,” he said, and she handed over the £10 note. The drugs were almost hers.

  “And three pounds change.”

  She watched as he put the black packet into a paper bag, then reached out as he handed it across the counter and gently took the bag from him, resisting the urge to snatch it, get a handful of tablets inside of her and feel the blessed drug circling around her system as quickly as possible. With the package in her hands, she thanked him and walked back outside as calmly as she could. Another transaction completed successfully.

  A small shop was still open just along from the chemist and she went inside to purchase a bottle of water to swallow them down with, then went back to her car. Once inside, she relaxed a little. All would be well with the world in just a few short minutes. Sam opened the bag, then tore open the box and slipped out the blister of tablets. She popped out six tablets and threw them all to the back of her throat, then took a couple of long drags on the bottle of water. The placebo effect was instantaneous: just knowing she had the pills in her stomach made her feel instantly better, and when they did actually kick in, she’d be back home in the comfort of her lounge to feel the full effect.

  But there was one task to do before she got home – get rid of the evidence. If Duncan saw the number of packets she was disposing of each week, he’d know something was up. She quickly slipped the rest of the tablets out of their blisters and put them all into the side pocket of her bag, a place Duncan never went. They’d be quite safe there. She put the car in gear and headed home, stopping briefly outside the chip shop to throw the packaging in a bin. She’d smiled at her ingenuity. Maybe being the wife of a detective had its uses after all: she had learned to cover her tracks seamlessly.