The Lost Girl (Brennan and Esposito) (14 page)

‘M
orning, lover.’

Phil slowly opened his eyes, didn’t know where he was. Or why he hurt so much. Focused. Saw a pair of huge eyes, made-up, a face smiling at him. His first response was to return the smile. Then he slowly, and with a shuddering lurch inside him, remembered where he was. And who was smiling at him.

‘Pleased to see me, handsome? Course you are.’

Phil’s headache immediately started again. He felt tired, aching. Like he hadn’t slept. Or if he had, hadn’t rested. Then his memory slotted in more pieces. The dining room, the wheelchair. The escape attempt. The pain. Then… nothing.

Here.

‘How did I…’

‘I put you to bed, silly. Had to take you to the toilet first.’ She giggled. ‘That was interesting.’ She was wearing something else of Marina’s. A black silk dressing gown. It was clear from the way her body moved, although Phil tried hard to avert his eyes, that she was naked beneath it.

‘All that nonsense last night…’ She got on the bed alongside him, then reached over to the bedside table, picked up a mug. It looked like one of Phil’s own mugs from home. Part of a range Marina had bought. The detail unnerved him. He tried to rationalise it away, think that anyone could get mugs from Designers at Debenhams if they knew the ones they were looking for. But he failed. That detail had unnerved him. More than he wanted to admit to himself.

‘Drink this,’ she said, putting it to his lips.

He looked quickly to the bedside table. The two capsules were still there. She caught his gaze. Smiled once more.

‘Not yet,’ she said. ‘You’re not ready for that yet.’

He tried to speak, argue, but she didn’t give him the chance. The drink was pushed to his mouth, the mug upended. Tea, he managed to taste between forced gulps. Warm.

She replaced the mug on the bedside table once he had drained it. She looked at him again. Smiled. Her mood playful, coquettish.

‘What am I going to do with you, eh?’

Phil tried a shrug, a weak smile. ‘Let me go?’

A flash of anger appeared behind her eyes. This time she controlled it, rode it out. Smiled once more.

‘Go where, darling? There’s nowhere for you to go to. You’re home. Here. Now. With me.’

She stood up, locking her eyes on to his the whole time. Placed one knee on the bed. Began to slowly undo the belt of the silk dressing gown. Her tongue appeared at the corner of her mouth. A wicked grin appeared around it. Her lips bright red, an open, fresh wound.

Phil felt his heart racing. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be.

‘I’ve forgiven you. For last night. Because…’ An exaggerated shrug. ‘That’s what married couples do, isn’t it? That’s what being married is all about. Compromise. I mean, if I got upset at the tiniest little things that you said, where would we be?’

She waited as if expecting an answer. Phil wasn’t even listening to her words. His mind had slipped a gear. Even after everything he had been through since he had arrived at this place with her, all the torment both mental and physical, he still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. Not here, not now. Not to him. Definitely not to him…

‘But seriously. Don’t do it again. I might not be so forgiving next time.’

She pulled the belt apart, and with it the dressing gown. She slowly, and what she presumed was seductively, pulled the belt from the gown, let it drop at the side of the bed.

‘I could have used that to tie you up with,’ she said, giggling. ‘If you weren’t already restrained, that is.’

Phil tried to pull against his bindings. He was tied firm, the leather thick, unyielding.

‘Please. Don’t do this. Please…’

She leaned over, placed a finger delicately on his lips. ‘Shhh.’ A whisper. ‘Don’t talk. Don’t say a word.’

She slipped the gown from her shoulders. Let it drop where it fell. Knelt on the bed beside Phil, legs apart. Proudly displaying her body. Eyes still locked with his, smiling all the time.

Phil’s heart was hammering. He didn’t know what to do. What he could do.

And then he felt something. His body began to betray him.

He was getting an erection.

She noticed, laughed.

‘That was quick. Mind you, I put enough of those little blue pills in your tea so I’m not surprised. But just in case…’

She reached over him to the bedside table once more. He closed his eyes as she did so. Kept them closed as he felt her hands on him. Then felt a tightness round his genitals.

‘There, that should keep you nice and big. You won’t be going anywhere in a hurry now.’

He looked down. She had placed a small elastic band round the base of his cock. He lay back. Unable to comprehend what was happening, nearly unable to cope.

‘Please…’ His voice so weak he didn’t even know whether he had actually spoken the words aloud.

She ran her hands down her naked body, lifted her breasts towards him as if for inspection. He turned his head away.

‘Playing hard to get? Got a headache?’ She giggled. ‘That’s supposed to be my prerogative.’

She pulled back the duvet, slid into bed beside him. Pushed her body up against his.

‘There,’ she said. ‘Isn’t this cosy? Just a normal husband and wife having a lie-in. No kids, Josephina’s with her grandmother, no work because it’s a Saturday, so all we have to do is have a lazy time together.’ Her hand moved along his body. ‘A long, lazy time…’

He felt like he was about to have a heart attack. Everything was totally beyond his control. He had never felt more completely helpless in his life.

She stopped stroking, stared right into his eyes once more. ‘It’s all about that darkness, Phil. The darkness inside you. You see, I have to show you who you are. Who you really are. Only then can you understand who I am. Really, really understand. And when you do, you’ll love me. Love me like you’ve never loved anyone in your life before. And then we can be together forever. But first you have to open up. Explore it. Welcome it. I’m here for you. Here to explore it with you. Show you your real self. So don’t be afraid…’

He screamed, thrashed, pulled against the restraints, tried to avoid her caresses, her body’s closeness. But nothing he did had any effect.

Slowly she swung one leg over him, straddled him. Looking down she smiled once more.

‘I love you, Phil. So, so much.’

And lowered herself down on to him.

T
he morning briefing was, thought Imani, the same the country over. The surroundings might be different, the faces too, but the types were similar, even if there were fewer of them than she was used to on a major investigation. But the goals, the ultimate outcome, she expected, would be exactly the same.

Result. Resolution. The bad guys punished.

She perched herself on the front of Matthews’ desk, making sure he had space to see round her. She felt she had succeeded in fitting in with the team. Or at least by not standing out. That was something. Even if, she thought, they weren’t used to seeing too many black faces on this side of the country. At least not on this side of the thin blue line.

She had booked into a B and B just off Maldon Road the night before, preferring that to an anonymous budget hotel like she would normally have had to endure. She had had a good night’s sleep, being so tired that she had just about collapsed on hitting the bed. Waking up had been different though; a sudden, startled awakening when the alarm sounded, a panicked glance round unfamiliar surroundings, heart palpitating, stomach lurching. For a few seconds she had thought she was back in that apartment at the mercy of the madman who had tried to murder her. A few deep breaths, a few minutes to reorientate and she was all right. Or as all right as she could be. She doubted she would ever be truly all right from it again. She never voiced those fears aloud, not even to the counsellor whose sessions she had been obliged to attend. But she felt the trauma was still inside her, still waiting for a moment to manifest itself. She just hoped that when it came, as it inevitably would, it wouldn’t be too bad. That was all.

The noise in the room hushed as Beresford took to the floor.

‘Good morning, everyone, let’s get down to it.’

He had the room’s attention. Imani looked at him, puzzled. His eyes looked sore. Red-rimmed, puffed up. Every time he blinked he winced slightly. Movement seemed to be causing him discomfort too. He smiled, apparently reading her mind.

‘Sorry for my appearance,’ he said, ‘had an argument with a can of wasp spray last night. You think this is bad, you should see the wasp.’

Polite laughter from the room. Imani smiled to show she was joining in even though the line sounded like it had been prepared.

‘Moving on,’ Beresford said, then pointed to Imani. ‘What did you and Matthews get from the victim’s next of kin yesterday?’

Imani glanced at Matthews who looked back at her, gesturing that she should speak. Imani appreciated the courtesy. She stood up, referred to her notebook.

‘We visited Jason Lansdowne’s wife, the widow of the second body to be discovered. Gave her the news. Naturally she took it badly. She told us he was away a lot, didn’t think too much of his absence at first.’

‘He worked for a company that did large-scale screen printing for events,’ said Matthews. She couldn’t immediately decide if he was backing her up or anxious not to give her all the limelight. ‘Went away a lot for work.’

‘And was also,’ said Imani, feeling suddenly competitive, ‘from what we could gather, a bit of a lad. Had other women. He didn’t seem to treat his wife with much respect.’

Beresford nodded. ‘So not much there, really.’ He smiled, gave a brief nod. ‘Thank you, DS Oliver.’

Imani was taken aback. She hadn’t finished. ‘Sorry, sir, but there’s quite a bit we can do on the back of that.’

Beresford folded his arms. ‘Such as?’

‘Well, talking to his co-workers. Seeing if they knew any of these women he was supposed to have been seeing. Names, a description, even. Getting a list of places he’d visited recently for his work. Then seeing if anyone saw him near the building he was found hanging in.’ She stopped talking, aware that the whole room was staring at her. Apart from Matthews who had found something on his desk absolutely fascinating. ‘Well, that’s what I would do.’

Beresford gave a smile as false as a
Strictly Come Dancing
tan. ‘Thank you, DS Oliver, for your contribution. We’re very grateful.’ He turned away from her. ‘Right. Moving on…’

The briefing continued. The longer it went on, the more Imani’s sense of unease built. Beresford, she noticed, seemed to be talking a lot but, when she broke down what he was saying into what had been done and what the plan was to take the investigation forward, not actually achieving much.

The meeting broke up. She looked at Matthews. ‘So, what do we do today?’

Matthews shrugged, kept looking at his desk. ‘Get on with things. Keep doing what we were working on.’

Imani looked round, made sure they weren’t being overheard, leaned in closer to him. ‘What d’you think of Beresford?’ Her voice hushed, her face showing a slight grin in case anyone watching thought they were just sharing a joke. ‘I mean really.’

Matthews looked up, a wary, startled look in his eyes. ‘What d’you mean? He’s the CIO for this case.’

‘Yeah I know that, but he doesn’t seem to be actually doing anything.’

Matthews didn’t reply. Imani felt that she had to continue.

‘I gave him all those potential leads to follow up, all the things we discovered yesterday, and he didn’t seem interested.’

‘Well, we can follow them up.’

‘Yes we can, Simon, and we will. But don’t you think it’s usual in a case – any case, not just this one – for the CIO to be eager to follow up any lead that comes in? How else are the team supposed to make progress?’

Matthews looked away from her once more. When he spoke, his voice was a mumble. ‘I’m sure the boss knows best.’

Imani stood directly in front of him. Determined to make eye contact. ‘Are you? Really?’

He looked round, nervous, as if everyone in the room was listening to them. No one, as far as Imani could tell, actually was. Most people seemed to be getting on with work.

‘I mean,’ she went on, ‘I read the report yesterday. Where was the PM on the three bodies? Held up, Beresford said. Why? Has anybody checked for them?’

‘DS Beresford. Says there’s still a hold-up.’

‘The same with forensics. I mean, how long does it take for a report to arrive here? Are they sent by carrier pigeon? And what was all that about with his eyes? Wasp spray?’

Matthews said nothing.

Imani made her tone less harsh. ‘Sorry. Getting a bit carried away. I don’t mean to sound like I’ve come from the big city and we’re used to having everything done for us. I just… well I hate to say this, but he seems to be a bit incompetent, that’s all.’ She shrugged. ‘Sorry. I know he’s your CIO and everything. Your work colleague and all that.’

Matthews looked round the room once more then back down to his desk. He seemed to be battling something internally, fighting to come to some kind of conclusion. Eventually he looked up. Eyes locked with Imani’s.

‘Let’s go outside. Let’s get a coffee.’

M
arina and Anni had talked the night before. And talked and talked and talked. Eventually they had fallen asleep, Marina exhausted by the events of the previous twenty-four hours.

She opened her eyes, shook her head, realised where she was: Anni’s spare room in her flat in Colchester. She immediately threw the duvet back and got up, pulling on yesterday’s clothes before leaving the room.

She looked down at them, at the dirt and tears in her skirt, and remembered. The attack. Shuddered.

That had been the first thing she had said to Anni, stunned as she had been to see her there in Chelmsford.

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Followed you,’ Anni had said.

Marina had thought for a few seconds, taken aback by the answer. ‘You didn’t know where I was.’

Anni had shrugged. ‘Easy enough to find out. Knew you wanted help, followed your trail. Used to be a detective, remember?’

They had hugged then, Marina expressing her relief. She had kept hugging her friend as she thought about everything that had happened to her recently and began to break down.

‘Hey, hey,’ Anni had said. ‘None of that here. Let’s get away first.’

They had looked round for Marina’s assailant but there was no trace of him.

‘Still,’ said Anni, ‘he’s going to have hell seeing tomorrow. That’s something.’

‘You should have run after him. Not stopped for me.’

Anni put her hands on her hips, spoke in a mock-hurt voice. ‘That’s the thanks I get for saving the damsel in distress.’

Marina managed a laugh. ‘Oh shut up.’

They had then driven back to Anni’s apartment in Colchester. Talking all the while.

‘Sorry,’ Anni had said once they were under way on the A12.

‘What for?’

‘You came to me for help. I didn’t give it. I should have.’ Eyes on the road, straight ahead, the whole time.

‘No, it was wrong of me to ask. To just phone up and expect you to be there. Drop everything for me. Wrong. And selfish. Especially after everything you’ve been through.’

‘I’m here, aren’t I?’

‘Yeah, but…’

‘So shut up, then.’

More silence, more miles. Eventually Anni spoke once more.

‘Doesn’t matter, you know.’

‘What doesn’t?’

‘How long we’ve been apart. How long it’s been since we’ve spoken. None of that counts. Not really. Friends – good friends, proper friends – can just pick up where they left off. Or should be able to. No matter how long it’s been or what they’ve been through since. So, you know. I’m here now.’

Marina nodded. ‘Thank you.’

Anni tried a smile again. Marina knew it was covering real emotion. ‘Thank
you
,’ she said. ‘Needed to get out of the house.’

From beyond the bedroom door, Marina could smell coffee. She ventured out in search of it.

Anni was in the kitchen area. Her flat was open plan, all straight lines, highly lit and modernist furniture. The direct opposite to Marina’s place which was all curves, deep colours and old. Vintage, as she liked to call it. Hippy shit, as Anni often described it.

‘You’re awake,’ said Anni. ‘Thought I’d let you sleep for a bit.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Nearly half ten.’

‘Jesus, we’d better get going. Why’d you let me sleep that long?’

‘Because you were exhausted and you needed to rest. You’d be no good today without the sleep you’ve just had.’

Marina sat down on the sofa. Despite having angles that could have been measured with a set square, it was surprisingly comfortable. ‘You not at work today?’

‘The gym can do without me for a while. The unfit of the parish will just have to exercise on their own.’

Marina smiled, took the coffee Anni offered her. ‘Thank you,’ she said again.

‘You don’t have to keep thanking me.’

‘I meant for the coffee.’

‘Whatever.’

Marina took out her phone, checked for messages. Still holding the forlorn hope that Phil might have been released, come home. Called her. Nothing from him. But a few missed calls from Cotter. She played the several voicemails the woman had left. They all ran along the same lines. She was angry with Marina for just taking off like that and not telling her where she was going. If she had any solid leads she should have shared them with the team not gone out as a maverick on her own. She wasn’t helping anyone like that, least of all Phil. And then a later one, more conciliatory in tone. Just call me. Please.

Anni looked at her. ‘Cotter?’

‘Yep. Wants me to call her.’

‘You should.’

Marina looked at her phone. ‘Maybe later.’

She had told Anni everything she had discovered the night before. About Fiona Welch’s children’s home, the other girl, Michael Prosser.

‘You think that was him that attacked you?’ asked Anni.

‘I thought so at first, but I don’t now. The person who grabbed me didn’t smell like Prosser. And after being alone with him in that flat, I should know what he smells like. And it’s not something you forget in a hurry. And then there’s the pepper spray. He only has one eye. Doubt he’d have been able to run off like that.’

‘Then who?’

‘No idea. The only thing I can think of is that I was on to something and someone wanted me stopped.’

Anni nodded.

Marina drained her coffee mug, stood up. ‘So what are we going to do today?’

Anni just looked at her. ‘Get you in the shower, for a start. Then get you something to wear. Then you’re going to phone your daughter and Cotter. Then we’re going to do a bit of hunting round ourselves.’

‘Couldn’t we just —’

‘No. In that order. You look like the wild woman of Wongo.’

‘What?’

‘Never mind. Just get a shower.’

Marina stared at her old friend. It felt like no matter what she said, who she talked to, there was only one word in her mind, one picture in her head: Phil. Find Phil. An overriding imperative.

‘Look,’ said Anni, as if reading her mind, ‘I know you want to get going. But believe me, it’ll be better if we do things my way.’

‘Where are we going? To see Franks?’

‘Franks was good to me, didn’t want me to leave. But was very understanding when I did. I like to think I could rely on him. And I’m sure he’s running this investigation. But I don’t think I can just walk up to him and tell him to give me what he’s got, I’m running my own investigation with you.’

‘No, you’re right. Any other friends on the team?’

‘Virtually all new. No. You get your shower, I’ll make a few calls. I know a couple of people who might be able to help us.’

Marina just stood there.

‘Well, off you go. Day’s a-wasting.’

‘Hey, Anni.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Thank you. I really… really…’

Anni kept her face down, attention on her coffee, expression unreadable.

‘Go and get your shower.’