Behind Closed Doors (3 page)

Already she was starting to question why Buchanan had involved her in this. Whatever Lou’s previous role, she was Major Crime; Op Pentameter – the UK-wide operation dealing with human trafficking for sexual exploitation – was very much a Special Branch thing. They didn’t like to share. The possibility of a media frenzy surrounding Scarlett’s reappearance was a likely explanation. A couple of years from retirement as he was, if there was a bit of glory to be obtained, Buchanan would want a chunk of it. Senior officers across the force would be circling the investigation like sharks, all trying to find some tenuous link to the job so that they could get a bite at it.

There was a brisk wind blowing across the grass and not only was it chilly, but she wondered whether Waterhouse would even be able to hear her when the call connected.

Stephen Waterhouse answered with a tone that suggested he was incredibly busy and this-had-better-be-bloody-important. ‘Yeah?’

‘It’s Lou Smith, Major Crime —’

Before she had time even to mention Buchanan’s name, Waterhouse interrupted. ‘Oh, right, hold on a sec.’

The muffled sound that followed implied he was holding the mobile to his chest while barking instructions at someone else. Then he was back.

‘When can you get over here?’

Lou felt her hackles rise, but kept her voice even. ‘What exactly do you need from me?’

There was a pause and Lou thought she heard a sigh from the other end. It might have been the wind. ‘I don’t actually
need
anything. Mr Buchanan suggested you might have some expertise to offer because you dealt with the investigation ten years ago. Personally I can’t see what difference that makes, but still…’

‘She is in the VVS, is that right?’

‘At the moment.’

‘In that case I’d like to listen in. Presumably you’ve got a family liaison officer lined up for the family? Mary Nott was the original FLO but she retired three years ago —’

‘We’re Special Branch; we don’t have FLOs. And in any case I don’t think she qualifies, since she’s not a suspect, nobody’s died, and she’s not been in an RTC.’

Lou’s temper frayed as the line got muffled again – he was clearly carrying on a conversation with someone else. ‘Fuck’s sake,’ she said.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. When’s your next briefing?’

‘Four, but —’

‘I’ll see you then,’ she said.

She disconnected the call. What an absolute arse. Four o’clock, and it was half-past two already. She had time for a quick refresher of the main details of the case – the files and notes long since having been archived – and then she would have to head off to Knapstone. Seaside town, grim in parts, in the centre of it an unattractive concrete block of a building that served as the local police station. In the basement was the headquarters of Eden’s Special Branch.

As she walked back the way she’d come, she dialled Jason’s mobile. He picked up straight away. ‘Don’t tell me – you’re finishing early again, right?’

She smiled. ‘Course not.’

‘So I guess our date’s off?’

‘I have no idea what time I’ll be done. I’m sorry.’

‘You can still come over. Whatever time it is.’

‘Thanks. Don’t wait up, though.’

All the way back up to Major Crime, via the canteen for a coffee and the last baguette – cheese, but at least it wasn’t tuna – she was thinking about the night before and how she was enjoying every minute she got to spend with Jason Mercer, especially those that happened in bed. Even when she was exhausted, wrung out by the day and the pressure and the constant worry of a job going badly wrong, or by being called out just at the moment when she’d finally allowed herself to relax, being with him made her feel better. Nearly a year together, too. That had gone by fast. They should do something – celebrate, go out for a meal, whatever it was people did. It had been a long time since she’d had a relationship that had lasted all the way to an anniversary. She tried to think when exactly the relationship had started, but there wasn’t what you’d call a defining moment. Jason had been the analyst on Operation Nettle last year; with all the stress of heading up a high-profile murder investigation, he had kept her sane by being calm, reliable, getting the job done – and all the time he had been waiting for her to realise that the attraction between them was mutual. There hadn’t exactly been a first date.

The trouble was, with such a pressured job, it was hard to make time for Jason. If it wasn’t work getting in the way, it was his social life. He was playing hockey and training most weekends, or going to see another team play, or, when it wasn’t that, he was out with his brother. She liked that he let her have her own space. But was this how it would continue? True, she didn’t have time for a serious relationship, not really, and this was a useful compromise. She wanted someone who was there for her, someone who would escort her to weddings and functions, and thereby allow her to keep the family at bay. Every time she saw or spoke to her parents now, they asked her whether she had ‘anyone special’, whether she didn’t think it was time to ‘settle down’.

Lou hadn’t phoned them for a couple of weeks. Time to ring them… later maybe. The thought was followed immediately afterwards by another: she wouldn’t ring; she would find some sort of excuse. She didn’t want to lie, but if she admitted that at last she had a boyfriend they would all spin into an excited frenzy. Her mother would tell everybody, from the extended family to her Women’s Institute buddies to random strangers at the bus stop. The next phone call would be all about him –
How’s Jason? When are we going to meet him?
– which would escalate into requests for them to come and stay, unsubtle hints for him to persuade her to be committed. As if she was somehow less of a person without a ring on her finger. Rootless, feckless, unshackled… unhinged.

It wasn’t that she thought Jason was not up to this particular task. In fact, they’d fallen into this easy, comfortable relationship so well that it was a bit surprising he hadn’t suggested making it official already. But it felt as though he was leaving it up to her, to choose the right time for them both. And it wasn’t even as though she had doubts – he was the best relationship she’d had, ever, by far: he wouldn’t cheat on her, she knew; wouldn’t make unreasonable demands for her attention when she was working on something major.

He had asked about her family. When she had gone to see them, just before Christmas, he had joked about coming with her and surprising them. The look on her face had told him everything. ‘Hey, just kidding,’ he’d said hastily. After that, he would ask how they were. And that was it. There was no more discussion about visiting.

Her cousin Tracy was getting married in a few weeks, and so far the invitation for ‘Louisa plus one’ had been left unreplied to, tucked into the flap of her organiser. Lou’s mother mentioned this during every conversation, usually either immediately before or after the question about the boyfriend… the lack of a boyfriend.

‘I’ve requested the day off, and it’s been approved. But you know if something comes up I will have to miss it.’

‘It’s a shame, that’s all. If you’ve got the day off, why can’t you just send Tracy an email? Let her know you’ll try to be there?’

‘I will, Mum.’

‘Because even if you can’t take someone with you, you know, she needs to know the numbers for the catering…’

Oh, Jesus, not the catering again. She wasn’t invited for the whole day, just the evening, so why was it such an issue? Surely they were only talking about having the right number of sandwiches and chicken drumsticks? She wouldn’t eat, if it was such a big deal. She would turn up with some cash in a congratulations card, dance a bit, wish the bride and groom every happiness in their life together, get rat-arsed quickly and completely, and get a taxi home. It was called showing your face.

She didn’t need to take Jason with her for that.

On the other hand, it would be good to get all of that crap out of the way. It would send a message to the parents that yes, she was seeing someone, a real person – a
man
, no less, since the question of her sexuality had been raised once in public (last Christmas; everyone had been drunk) and at least once in private (an email to her sister Jasmine, which had been accidentally forwarded to her). It would get the whole discussion out of the way and they would leave her in peace for a little while. There would be the inevitable fierce questioning to endure, which would start off benignly enough –
Where did you meet? How long have you been together? Where are you from? Oh, yes, we love Canadians, so polite!
– and would end up being personal and downright intrusive –
What does your father do, Jason? So, it’ll be your turn next up the aisle, then, Lou? Your biological clock must be ringing an alarm by now!

She couldn’t inflict that on him. He would run a mile.

The office was quiet. Sam Hollands was at her desk, DC Jane Phelps was on the phone.

‘Did I miss anything?’ Lou asked Sam.

‘I’ve just been trawling back through the historic intel on McVey. Nothing too exciting – but there are a couple of reports linking him to the McDonnells; they had a cosy lunch together back in July. I’ve sent Les and Ron out to the Ferryman to see if they’ve got any CCTV. I know it’s unlikely.’

‘Worth a try, though. Let me know if you get a result? I’ve got to go to Knapstone.’

‘SB?’ Sam asked.

‘Yes. I’m meeting a DCI called Stephen Waterhouse.’

Sam raised her eyebrows. ‘Really? Good luck with that.’

‘You know him?’

‘He was Jo’s line manager for a while, when she was seconded down there. He was still a DI then – can’t have been long since he was promoted.’

Lou hesitated, concerned about following any line of thought involving Sam’s ex-partner. ‘What’s he like, then?’

‘I don’t think I can say without swearing.’

‘Oh, God, that bad? Seriously – tell me. I won’t tell anyone.’

‘Just between us, he was described as “a jumped-up little cock with an attitude problem”. No offence. Jo’s words, not mine.’

The next time she opened her eyes, it was less bright around the edges of the back door of the van. She had been asleep for some while, then, and it was because she had been untied and could finally move, stretch out her arms and legs and not have that unbearable pain in her shoulders and wrists. It wasn’t comfortable now, far from it, and the high-pitched whine of the engine was so loud it should have been impossible to sleep, but she had done just that.

At some point the van must have stopped and they must have opened the door, because next to her was a bottle of water and a paper bag containing a stale-smelling slice of pizza, folded in half to fit in the bag. Stale or not, she ate half of it there and then, and the rest of it less than an hour later. She drank the water, not even caring if they’d drugged it.

Above the noise of the engine she could hear music coming from the radio in the front cab. Some woman wailing a tune with a beat behind it, nothing like the music she was used to. It sounded awful.

The men weren’t talking any more. They’d run out of things to say, for now at least. She tried to listen to the music, thinking that she might hear the news or something – hear her name mentioned. But, when the song ended, the voice that introduced the next track was foreign, unintelligible. She could tell it wasn’t the news, though. The tone of the voice was the same as any other commercial radio station – unnaturally happy, intoning up and down, shouting almost. There would be a different voice for the news, if indeed they had news on the radio here. Wherever they were.

She found herself thinking about Nico again. Where was he, right now? What was he doing? He would be looking for her, of course. Everyone would be looking for her. Even her father would be out, hunting for her. He would be doing the right thing, and making sure everyone knew it.

Oh,
Nico
.
 

Cerys had lost her virginity to Matt Hayward, at the end of the summer term. Scarlett had always thought it would be her first, that she would be the one, but when it came down to it she didn’t want any of them, the boys. Being alone with anyone made her feel nervous. She didn’t feel safe. And, even though Cerys had wanted to get it out of the way as quickly as she possibly could, Scarlett couldn’t help feeling that her friend was making a mistake. But Cerys had curves and an almost unnatural level of self-confidence, and, although Scarlett was the one who got all the attention from the boys, it was still Cerys who did it first.