by Helen Phifer
‘I’m not sure what time, but I’ll be there soon.’
‘Thank you.’ The line went dead.
That was the first civil conversation they’d had in some time, and it left him wondering what on earth was going on. He went back into the office.
‘I have to go out; I’ll be back though. If you need me for anything, I’ll have my mobile on.’
No one took much notice of him, so he left them to it. He debated about telling Beth where he was going, then changed his mind. It was better to find out what was going on first. He didn’t think she’d mind, though he didn’t want to upset her for no good reason.
Seventeen
Archie Palmer waved goodbye to his mum, hoisted his fishing rods over his shoulder and began the walk down the footpath to Miller Ground which led to Lake Windermere. It was already getting dark, but it didn’t matter to him. He liked being on his own, and he’d been brought up fishing for carp on the lake since he was a child. His dad and grandad were both keen anglers and he’d inherited their love of the sport. At seventeen most of his friends preferred to spend their time in the pub playing pool and trying to get served alcohol with their fake IDs, but he would much rather set up his rods in his favourite place, then sit and watch the world go by or read a book. A fine mist on the far side of the lake was heading his way, but he wouldn’t let himself be scared. He’d cast his rods then sit in his compact tent and wait.
He walked along the shore picking up a couple of discarded chocolate bar wrappers and stuffing them deep into his pocket. He hated when people dropped litter, though it was even worse when they threw it off their boats into the lake; locals would never dream of doing such a thing. It was so bad for the environment. There was no one around; it was late and this time of year the lake was never overly busy. Only the diehard used it and most of them wouldn’t venture out when the visibility was this poor. Eventually, he reached the secluded spot his dad had shown to him years ago; the North Basin of the lake was much better for catching carp, especially at this time of year. Last October he’d caught a couple of monsters.
He unpacked his pop-up tent, then began to set his pair of carp rods up. Satisfied everything was good to go, he suddenly realised the mist had almost reached the shoreline and cursed. He was going to have to wait this one out for a while; it was dangerous to be too close to the water when the visibility was this poor. He may be experienced, but he wasn’t stupid.
Tucked up inside his tent he opened the plastic box of tuna mayo sandwiches his mum had packed for him, sat on his folding chair, turned his headlamp on and flipped open his current book: The Ghosts of Sleath, by James Herbert. He was thankful he’d finished The Fog last week. As brave as he was, the Lakes were still an eerie place to be when there was zero visibility.
An hour later he’d eaten all of his sandwiches and almost finished his book. He unzipped the tent and looked out. The mist had cleared enough that he could see where he was going and to safely check his rods. Reaching the shoreline, he stopped in his tracks when he saw something large and bulky not too far from where he stood. It was hard to make out so he shuffled as close to the water’s edge as he could. The water lapped at his feet as he squinted and took a step into the lake.
‘What the…?’ he said aloud. He didn’t have his waders on, but took another step, gasping as cold water soon began to fill his rubber boots. It seemed too lumpy to be a log and, as it drifted past, he wondered if he should leave it in the water. But it looked like a sleeping bag or someone’s discarded tent and his conscience wouldn’t let him just leave it there polluting the beautiful Lakes. The water slapped against his legs. He reached out; a couple more feet and he’d be able to grab the offending article and drag it back to shore. His fingers snagged the dark, sodden material and he tugged, surprised at how heavy it was. Changing his grip, he pulled it towards him.
As if in slow motion, the thing bobbed in the water and turned to face him. A bloated, discoloured face stared back at him, eyes unblinking. Archie screamed. Splashing so much he almost lost his footing, he tried to run back towards the shore, terror ripping through him. Grabbing a fistful of reeds, he pulled himself onto land and fell to his knees, shingle digging into the flesh of his bare knees like tiny needles. Fumbling for his phone, he did the only thing he could think of and dialled 999.
Eighteen
The hospital car park was relatively quiet, so Josh left the car without bothering to buy a ticket. He didn’t intend to stop long enough to justify it. Inside and waiting for the lift doors to open, a woman with a sweet little boy came and stood next to him. The boy had a wild Afro framing a pair of huge brown eyes and the cheekiest grin Josh had ever seen. Josh smiled back at him and let them in first when the lift arrived. For a fleeting second, he wondered what it would be like to have a child of his own. He and Jodie had never really talked about it when they were together. They’d argued so much that he knew it had been a wise choice not to have any. But Beth was different; they rarely disagreed and when they did it was for good reason and never for long. She’d been through so much in her life already, perhaps she just had a better grasp of what was worth fighting over. It was still early days for them, but he didn’t foresee that Beth would ever want to have children. It didn’t bother him, though, as he’d rather have her in his life, but he also didn’t want to leave the conversation until it was too late and neither of them could. The lift door opened and he stepped out, the smell of school dinners filling his nostrils as the heavy steel food cart was pushed around the corner towards them.
‘What’s on the menu?’
‘Beef stew with chocolate pudding and chocolate custard.’
He nodded. ‘Smells good.’
The tiny woman, who didn’t look heavy enough to push the big cart even a few inches, threw her head back and laughed.
‘Bless you, it always smells a lot better than it tastes. But whatever you do don’t tell the cook I said that.’ She winked at him, making him laugh.
‘I won’t, your secret’s safe with me.’
He helped her guide the cart and then made his way towards the entrance of ward nine. His stomach began to tie itself into knots with every step. He had no idea why he was here or what he should expect. But he knew in hospital it was unlikely to be good news. The nurses’ station was deserted, so he ran his eyes over the whiteboard nearby searching for Jodie’s name. He couldn’t find it and wondered for a moment if she’d been discharged, or maybe even playing a trick on him.
‘Can I help you?’
The voice behind him made him jump and he spun around to face the nurse.
‘Yes, I’m looking for Jodie Walker. I can’t make visiting time, but I’m with the police so I hope you can make an exception.’
‘We haven’t got a Jodie Walker on this ward. Are you sure you have the right one?’
He nodded.
‘The only Jodie we have is Jodie Phillips, in room six.’
He felt his cheeks flush; she’d reverted to using her maiden name.
‘Sorry, yes, Jodie Phillips. Walker was her married name.’
The nurse opened her mouth to say something then thought better of it. Instead she smiled at him with kind eyes. He thanked her and walked down the long corridor towards the side room with a number six above the door. He hesitated outside, wondering suddenly if he should have brought her some chocolates, or maybe a get-well card, but it was too late and he knew deep down that he was just stalling. The door swung open in front of him before he had a chance to knock, and a nurse gasped to see him standing there. Then she started laughing.
‘Blimey, you gave me a heart attack.’
‘Sorry, I’m really sorry. Is Jodie in?’
He heard the words echo in his brain and cringed. His already pink cheeks turned pinker.
The nurse nodded. ‘She certainly is.’ She stepped to the side and he had no choice but to walk into the room.
A woman he didn’t recognise was perched on the bed, short brown tufts of h
air sprouting limply from her head in patches. He had the wrong room, he thought, and was about to turn and leave when she looked up.
‘Thanks for coming, Josh.’
‘Jodie?’ he replied, squinting at her in the dim room. Something was very wrong. ‘Is that you?’
The words hung in the air for a moment before she pointed to the chair next to the bed.
‘Have a seat.’
Shocked, he forced his feet to walk towards the chair and sat down, taking in the dark shadows under her eyes, her pinched cheeks and the lines on her forehead that hadn’t been there a couple of months ago.
‘What’s happened?’
‘Leukaemia,’ she said quietly.
He felt his head shake. ‘How?’
‘Christ knows, but look at the state of my fucking hair.’
‘I always said you would suit short hair.’ He smiled, limply.
She laughed and for a moment she looked like the feisty girl he’d married all those years ago.
‘You always did know the right thing to say.’
He shrugged. ‘Got to try, haven’t you.’
This made her laugh again, and he joined in. The nurse popped her head around the door at the commotion and nodded in approval at the scene. Jodie waved at her, and she winked and left them to catch up.
‘I told her you might still be mad at me for being such a complete bitch to you.’
‘It wasn’t all your fault. I worked too much and didn’t give you enough attention. You remember; not enough staff and too much crime.’
‘You care too much about people, Josh. That’s not a bad thing, it really isn’t. I just used to get jealous that you spent more time with your victims than you did me. I was stupid.’
He realised she was being sincere and reached out for her hand. ‘We both were.’
She nodded, squeezing back.
‘I’m sorry. I know you’re busy and I don’t expect you to say yes, but I have a favour to ask. You can say no. Please don’t agree to it because I look a state and you feel sorry for me. I mean, I do look a state, but I’m not trying to guilt trip you in any way.’
She paused.
‘Go on.’
‘I want to go home. I hate it in here. Don’t get me wrong, the staff are lovely, but like Dorothy said in The Wizard of Oz, “There’s no place like home”. Only I can’t because I have no one to check in on me. Last time I messed my meds up and ended up taking too many. They said I can only leave when they’ve sorted out someone who can come and check on me a couple of times a week and help with my meds. Can I tell them you’ll do it? I don’t expect you to; I’ll be fine on my own and I’ll be careful, but you just need to make them believe.’
‘What about Carl? Will he not help?’
She shook her head. ‘Carl was a mistake; as soon as I told him I might be ill it was over. He wanted a good time, not the baggage that went with it.’
Josh felt even more anger towards the man than he already did. He’d caused such a huge mess and hadn’t even had the decency to stick around.
‘He’s an idiot. So you want me to lie and say that I’m helping you when I’m not?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘I can’t do that, Jodie. What if something happens to you?’
Tears filled her eyes. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.’
‘No, I don’t mean that I won’t do it. I’m just not going to say I’m helping you, and not help you. I’ll only say it if you let me do it. I can pop in, sort your tablets out, pick up some shopping, whatever you need. We might not live together any more, and I know it all went horribly wrong, but I still care about you.’
She bent her head, her shoulders heaving up and down and Josh realised she was crying. He sat on the bed next to her and pulled her now tiny frame into his arms. All the anger he’d felt towards her dissipated. They were adults; they could still be friends. He didn’t even think about how Beth might feel about the situation because he knew she would want him to do the right thing.
They sat that way for a few minutes until his phone began to ring loudly in his pocket. Jodie pulled away from him as he fumbled to find it, berating himself for not turning it off when he arrived. He saw Sam’s name on the screen and silenced it. No sooner had he done that than it began to ring again, vibrating and flashing in his hand. Jodie smiled.
‘Go on, you’d better answer that. You’re in demand, Josh, you always have been. Thank you. I’ll let you go and I’ll message you when they say I can leave.’
‘I’ll pick you up; make sure you ring me.’
She nodded and stared down at his phone, knowing it must be important or Sam wouldn’t keep ringing. Standing up, he bent down and brushed his lips against the side of her cheek, left her and walked into the corridor, sliding his finger across the screen.
‘Yeah?’
‘Boss, where are you? We have another body.’
Josh felt his heart sink. ‘Where?’
‘A teenager fishing at Miller Ground pulled it ashore thinking it was a sleeping bag in the lake. Apparently, it’s in a bad way.’
‘Christ.’
‘I’m on my way; do you want picking up? Oh, and Sykes said The Tequila Sunrise wasn’t painted. It’s white, probably made of fibreglass or whatever they make modern boats from.’
‘No, I’ll meet you there and tell her thanks.’ He hung up.
Was it a coincidence? Who could it be this time?
If they were in a state, they’d been in the water a while.
Nineteen
Beth arrived home, relieved to be able to finally strip off and bathe away the memories of the day. As she let herself in, she noticed Josh’s car wasn’t on the drive, which was unusual when he’d been on a day shift. Kicking off her boots, she hung her coat in the closet and went to the kitchen, where she opened the fridge and took out a bottle of wine. She wasn’t on call this evening so the plan was to drink a couple of glasses of wine and curl up on the sofa with a book. There was leftover pizza in the fridge she could warm up if she got hungry. Josh would sort something for himself. She liked that about him; he was independent and didn’t rely on her to look after his every need. This was just as well because she didn’t look after her own needs well at the best of times, not since before Robert. How different life had been before the night of her attack. Robert had been her colleague, lover and friend before he’d tried to kill her. Maybe not so much leading up to that night: he’d started to distance himself from her and act a little strange, but she had put it down to stress at work. Never would she have guessed that it was his twisted desire to murder her weighing heavy on his mind, and not his caseload at the hospital. He was on her mind now and she didn’t like that; he didn’t deserve a single segment of her head space. Yet there he was. She was annoyed with herself, and with Charles for shutting her out. It wouldn’t have hurt him to let her observe.
She took her wine glass up to the bathroom, a blissful haven with floor-to-ceiling windows and a clear view of the lake. It was almost dark out and the lake looked majestically foreboding and unforgiving. A cold scene of real natural beauty. Until the summer just past she’d spent every spare minute by the lakeside staring into its inky waters, but ever since she had been nearly killed there it didn’t hold the same appeal; she twisted the pole to close the blinds as soon as she entered the room. The lake brought up many raw memories and tonight they were too much; she could still taste the water in the back of her throat when Phil, Robert’s accomplice, had thrown her overboard, plunging her straight into the murky depths.
Turning on the taps, she took a large gulp of wine, grateful she had something legal and easily accessible to take her mind away from that dark day. The house phone began to ring and she decided not to answer it; whoever it was could ring her mobile if it was important. It stopped, but a few seconds later the ringtone of her mobile filled the air.
‘Hello.’
‘Doctor Adams, I’m sorry to bother you. It’s Jo from call handling. A bod
y has been recovered from Lake Windermere and we wondered if you could attend?’
‘I’m sorry, it’s not my turn to be on call. Have you phoned my colleague, Charles Wilson?’
‘He’s had to attend a family emergency and can’t attend the scene.’
She rolled her eyes and longingly swilled the almost full glass of wine in her other hand.
‘Right, I suppose it’s down to me then?’ She knew it wasn’t the woman on the other end of the phone’s fault and adjusted the tone of her voice. ‘Sorry, long day.’
‘I’m sorry, Doctor Adams, but the DS insisted you were called with it being the second one today.’
‘Don’t be, Jo, it’s not your fault. Where is it?’
‘Miller Ground; are you familiar with the area?’
‘I am.’ Beth used to enjoy a walk along the front of the lake down there, but it had been a while since she’d been.
‘You won’t be able to miss the circus; police cars and an ambulance are already there. Apparently, they are near to the public footpath, if that means anything to you? I’m not familiar with the area.’
‘Yes, it does. Thank you.’
She ended the call, turned off the bath taps and poured the wine down the sink, leaving the glass on the shelf above it. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she sighed. She looked tired. Splashing cold water on her face, she blotted it dry and wondered what she might find. Bodies found on the shoreline had usually sunk first and then resurfaced once the gases from putrefaction had caused the body to float and rise up, usually minus a lot of soft tissue thanks to the marine life that liked to feast on the ripe flesh. This one was going to be messy. She was more than a little concerned that two bodies had been pulled from the lake in the space of twenty-four hours. Not unheard of, but it was certainly unsettling.
Twenty
