‘You’re worried about what he might say, aren’t you? That the rest of the team will get to know about your past and what happened to you. Don’t be.’
She let out a huff sound. He had the potential to affect her career. Between Rex threatening to speak to the press and Steven threatening to twist her past into something that might turn her colleagues against her, how could she not be worried? She felt her chest tighten. Panic rose. Heart hammering, salivating mouth, sweat prickling her armpits, boiling hot. She began loosening her coat and shirt, fanning her face with a notebook. Breathe, Briggs couldn’t latch onto what was happening.
He pulled a paper bag from the storage in the side of his door and passed it to her. Grabbing it, she placed it over her mouth and breathed into it until she’d calmed down a little. Sweat began to run down her forehead but she was cold and shivery. ‘Thank you.’ She passed him the bag.
He blocked her hand. ‘You keep it.’
‘I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’
He shuffled in the car seat. ‘Look at me, Harte.’
She turned to face him.
‘You can get through this. It’s just another case. Step back and look at everything objectively. It’s not about you. Yes, you got caught up with the wrong people in life but this is all about a murdered woman and a woman who’s been missing for years. It’s about them and we need to focus on that. Do you understand?’
She nodded as she wiped a tear from her face.
‘He’s not going to bring you down, you have to trust me on this one.’
One further look into his eyes left her unable to speak. What had he done? She felt tears welling up in her eyes, tears she’d save for later, when she was alone.
The sound of a door slamming caught their attention. Gina stared at Dawn’s house as O’Connor brought Steven out in cuffs and bundled him into the back of a police car. They’d arrested him and now it was all going to kick off. The worse thing about it all was that she wouldn’t know exactly what he’d said until the interview was over.
Fifty-Seven
The clunking had continued for what seemed like forever but suddenly, quietness enveloped her small space. All Aimee wanted to see was the sky, she didn’t mind if it was raining or dark. She wanted to see the moon, street lamps; cars driving with headlamps on, pubs lit up at night, anything but this dark void she was shoehorned in.
As the drug wore off, the clunking monster had turned into machinery. Was she near a factory unit or on the industrial estate? Had he buried her in the grounds or was she stuffed into the wall, where forever she’d stay until she finally let out her last breath? Maybe she’d lie there rotting until one day, someone would come along and find her bones. Gasping for air, she began to weep as she thought about her kidnapper.
She’d only met him the once. Thoughts flashed through her mind. She jogged around the area on many occasions. Maybe he’d seen her then. They both lived in Cleevesford. Maybe he’d seen her in one of the shops or at the pub. Rhys, he still hadn’t made further contact. Maybe he’d been angry and they’d plotted this together. He hated her enough and he’d never let anything lie if anyone dared to upset him.
Rhys would often move things in her garden, leave her gate open in the night to make her think she was going crazy or being watched. He was a game player and maybe this was one of his games. He’d told her these stories with a certain level of humour in his voice when she’d caught him out. She’d even laughed at one point, especially when she’d forgiven him after catching him in the act. What had seemed like a practical joke back then now seemed sinister. She should have seen it. It was now her turn. How he’d teamed up with her kidnapper, she had no idea. All she knew was that if he had any involvement, he’d be around watching and laughing, sitting in the darkness waiting to say it was all some kind of joke.
‘Rhys, if you’re there, please let me out now.’ Something dropped to the floor. She could hear behind the thick walls. She wasn’t in a grave. Whoever was out there was sitting at the same level as her.
They weren’t going to answer. She had to be wrong about Rhys. Would he really conspire to kidnap her and confine her to this hole to make his point? Her mind was all over the place. She recognised her captor, she knew he’d got on with Rhys at the party. They’d even shared a spliff together at one point. She thought he’d seemed nice enough, but not now. Not now he’d invaded her home, hurt her, kidnapped and imprisoned her. Not now. She began to shiver. ‘Please, I know you’re there. We can talk about this. You can’t leave me here forever. I need the toilet.’
She flinched as he cleared his throat. A second later, a door slammed. ‘Come back!’ Once again, she was alone in the dark. It was worse now, she was fully aware of what was happening to her. Sobbing, she curled her arms around her cramping legs and rocked back and forth in the tiny space.
Fifty-Eight
What to do, what to do? Aimee has made things difficult for me. I stare out of my windscreen and watch Gina’s house. I know about her alarm and CCTV system so I stay back, observing. Maybe I could leave a note.
‘Argh!’ I pummel the dashboard until my knuckles are red raw. How had I let this happen? I wanted Aimee to like me, meet me at the right moment and now I’d lost that chance forever.
I stare at the fields and all I see is darkness. There are no street lamps around here. Don’t know what to do. Hitting the side of my head as I ponder that thought, I watch as the DI pulls up and greets her cat before she disables her alarm.
Write a note now – I could post it quickly and drive off. I have a hooded jacket, she won’t see me and my car is too far away from the camera. No, I won’t write a note. Maybe I won’t say anything. I got it all wrong.
Now I see it. Aimee was wrong for me. She’d never willingly go for a man like me. Just because I’ve researched her and know her well, it doesn’t mean she knows me. She knows nothing about me apart from what’s on my Swap Fun profile, even then, she doesn’t know it’s me.
Gina closes her curtains. Now I can’t see a thing. What did I expect? She’s not dippy like Aimee. Gina is a real woman, experienced and tough. I like that. Sorry Aimee, I don’t think I can help you out here. Gina, I may help you if you stop being a bitch to me.
How can I get closer to you, see what you’re doing. I want to watch as you get changed into your casuals or your nightclothes. I want to see you in the comfort of your home, stroking your cat, eating your dinner – normal everyday things. I gently close the car door and place my dark hooded jacket on. What the hell. I’m going for a look. Maybe after, I’ll know if I want to help you or not.
Fifty-Nine
Gina lay in bed, laptop in front of her. All the evidence had been updated. Bernard had called confirming that the blood they’d found at the crime scene where Sophie Dobbins had been chased and attacked did not match that taken from Steven’s sample. It didn’t belong to Sophie either. Their perpetrator didn’t have a record as nothing on the database was a match. Her fingers twitched as she fought the urge to slam down the lid on her laptop.
