‘I don’t want a holiday, sir. I want to catch the bastard who killed Jade Ashmore. I want to find Samantha and I want to find out who attacked Sophie Dobbins. This isn’t about me, I see that. I also see how it looks. It’s not my fault Steven Smithson has been embroiled in the case. It’s also not my fault that someone I met up with a couple of times just happened to be at a house we were staking out last night. All these things were beyond my control. As for the job, I will never give it any less than my all and you know it. I slipped up last night, and I know that may seem unforgivable and for that I’m sorry. But, I’m on this case, I need to be.’ She wanted him to see how determined she was and she was sure he could. The thought of being at home, twiddling her thumbs in front of daytime television, alone, was enough to ensure she fought to remain at work. Holiday? That was the last thing she needed. CCTV duties, no way. She bent down and picked up the other half of the mug and threw it into the bin. ‘There, mess cleared up.’
‘If only all messes could be cleared up that easily. Apologise to Wyre and Jacob. Did you update the system?’
‘About half an hour ago. All done.’
He bowed his head. ‘I have and I always will have full faith in your abilities to solve a crime, Harte. Don’t you dare let me down or we’ll both be for the chop.’
She knew that he’d have pulled anyone else off the case had it been them. She swallowed and coughed back her emotions. ‘I would never let you down, sir.’ She paused. ‘I need to know what happened in the interview.’ She had to bring their conversation back to the case, back to what Steven may have said about her. ‘Was I mentioned?’
‘I sat in with Wyre. Dawn claims that she was dropped home by Ralph Dobbins and Steven was already there and didn’t look ruffled at all. We couldn’t see any visible cuts or bruises on his head or neck so going on what our victim said about hitting her attacker with a shoe, it’s not looking like it could be him. Saying that, he could be hiding a wound. She was in a distressed state and wasn’t totally sure of where she’d hit her attacker. As it stands right now, we don’t have enough to charge him. He’s voluntarily given his DNA which is ready for sending to the lab. To arrest him prematurely could really ruin the case, especially as you know him. At the end of the interview, once the tape was switched off, he was babbling on about how much you had it in for him. We have to watch that this doesn’t escalate. I tell you something, if your ex-husband was anything like that smarmy bastard, you have my sympathies.’
‘You can’t begin to imagine how bad Terry was.’ Steven really was determined to ruin her and save himself in the process. She wouldn’t let that happen, hoping that his little sound off in the interview room wasn’t the start of something bigger to come.
‘Go to your office, listen to the interviews and do some investigating. See what you can fathom from both interviews. I’d appreciate your thoughts as soon as possible. We have to get on top of all the evidence we have. It’s all chaos at the moment, evidence and investigation strands coming in from everywhere. I want order.’
‘I’ll do that and I’ll call forensics, see if any results are available to us. We need something soon. Why does it all take so long?’
‘I know. Not enough resources to go around, but we’ll get there and you will. I know you will. Get to it.’ He straightened his tie and smiled as he left.
Gina’s phone pinged with a message.
It would be awful if the press got hold of the fact that we were lovers and you got me arrested. Why are you following me about, Gina?
More to the point, why was Rex still texting her after she’d asked him not to? Her head began to pound as even more pressure built up. She slammed her hand onto the worktop. Her finger hovered over reply. No, she would never reply again. What would be, would be. Replying would look even worse. Another message followed.
Were you watching me? Fancied a bit of what we were up to? I know you like to be in control, a bit kinky. You like messing me around. Is this why you pulled me in? This time I get to mess you around. See how you like it. The press want to interview me, saw me coming out of the station. Should I oblige?
The last thing she needed was the press linking such a high profile case to her personally. That would be her end. She knew from the emails that had been sent that the press were hassling them for more information and they weren’t about to stop. Now they were hanging around in the car park, fishing for witnesses who were prepared to give them a story.
How was everything going so wrong? She kicked a filing cabinet and gasped for breath, anger welling from her core. Pacing up and down, she struggled to see how things could improve. She had to make headway on the case before she was well and truly kicked off it or worse, suspended. She re-tied her messy hair, took a deep breath and entered the interview room, calmly smiling. She would start with her apologies. Time was ticking.
Fifty
Almost out of breath, I approach the back of Aimee’s house. Coming here is risky, especially after all that’s happened, but I need to see you. My lovely girl – I missed you, but hey, a man has needs and you’re not fulfilling any of mine as yet. My head aches a touch and it’s a bit chilly this morning. I should have gone home to change but here I am instead. I grin. I won’t tell you what I’ve been up to, a man has his secrets.
I feel my stomach. I’m quite fit, you know, Aimee. I’ve been following your programme on YouTube. It’s just the job. Soon you will feel the results for yourself. I run my hand across my firm stomach, not quite a six pack but it’s under there. A few more pounds off and a bit more work on toning and fitness and I’ll be someone you’ll be proud of. I don’t know how long I can wait though. If I close my eyes, I can smell you, taste you and feel your curls running through my fingers. I love how your hair curls.
I feel a stir in my jeans. You do this to me. You’re doing this to me. I close my eyes and think of you. I need you. I’ve waited too long already. Flinching, I let go of my crotch. What was that?
Damn it! What’s she doing here? I thought she was at work. She normally works Saturdays. I scarper along the path and head towards the main road, waiting until she’s gone. Bag flung over shoulder, earphones plugged in, she almost walks to the beat as closely as her bulky frame will allow. That’s the housemate out the way and I’m ready to go in.
The stupid friend doesn’t notice a thing and carries on down the road. Let’s have some alone time, just you and me.
Fifty-One
Aimee plunged her hands into the washing-up bowl and began scrubbing the breakfast bowls. So much had happened in the last few days. The local news had reported yet another incident the previous night. She glanced at the back door. The key was still on the kitchen table, where she’d left it after locking the door.
There was a knock at the front door. She wasn’t expecting anyone. It could be Rhys, the police, post. She abandoned the washing-up and stared down the dark hall at the front door, contemplating her next move. It was as if she was standing in treacle, her body slowly turning to stone.
Another knock. A faint silhouette filled the small narrow window at the side of the door. It looked like the caller was holding a parcel. Had she ordered something? No, not a thing except a replacement gym mat for the one that had a tear in it. That was a couple of weeks ago and she’d been in battle with the company over a replacement. She exhaled and shook her hands, feeling her senses return to normal. The caller was about to leave. She darted to the door and opened it. ‘Sorry about that, I was just elbow deep in the washing-up.’ The caller wasn’t holding a parcel, it was a bag.
Slamming through the door, he knocked Aimee halfway across the hallway. She grappled with the bannister, cold with shock as she pulled herself up and ran into the kitchen, pushing the door. If only she could close it, she could wedge it with a chair. Gasping, she reached for the chair. As she did, he slammed his way through.
He wiped his arm over his sweat-lined forehead. The faint red mark on his neck was revealed as he reached out towards her, his T-shirt shifting slightly. ‘Please, please don’t hurt me. I know you don’t want to hurt me.’ He grinned as he pulled a mallet from his bag.
‘Oh, but I want to. You make me want to, but first, I have to teach you a lesson.’
Her legs buckled as he brought the mallet down. She dodged out of the way making him hit the table. She could see he was seething now. She ran for the door, she’d locked it. The key. It was on the table. She’d locked the back door to keep herself safe, now she felt anything but. ‘Please, don’t hurt me.’
