‘What are you thinking?’ Briggs placed the pizza box on Gina’s kitchen table. She didn’t need him checking on her but given that someone was out to get to her, she appreciated that he’d dropped by.
‘We have Eveline Peterson, her son Alex is murdered. Then we have the stranger in the dark coat at a grave marked with Elsie Peterson’s name. Same surname. Wyre is looking into this. Whatever’s happening seems to be personal in every way. I’ve read the forensics report from the scene. It was pretty fruitless given the awful weather so I’m not holding out any hope at all for anything more substantial to come back.’ She opened the lid on the pizza box and took a slice to bite into, the stringy cheese stretching from box to her chin before snapping. It cloyed against the roof of her mouth. She chewed and chewed, suddenly not wanting to swallow the food. It was as if there was a stopper in her throat.
‘If we’re looking at this being personal, we need to know more about his friends and family. Did you speak to his wife yet?’
She took a gulp of orange juice to force it down and threw the slice of pizza back down. ‘Yes, and now I’m concerned there was more to Mrs Swinton’s story than she’s letting on. Was she the woman at the derelict squat on Beckett Street? The woman apparently said that he’d ruined everything and to shut up. Had he ruined her life by coming back? Mrs Swinton said he hadn’t turned up at the house since coming back. Then I get thinking, the way she describes everything, how he ruined her life at the time when he ran up the debts. Why would she want him to shut up? She seemed pretty open to me.’
‘I see what you mean.’
‘My mind is whirring away and it’s not coming back with the answers. What isn’t she telling us?’
He smiled warmly. ‘It’ll come. There’s not enough to make the links as yet.’
She finished her orange juice. ‘We’re meeting at the squat at eleven in the morning, hopefully we’ll come out knowing more than before we went in. Do you want a beer, maybe the powers of a light alcoholic beverage might get my cogs moving a bit faster?’
‘I’ll have a soft version if you’ve got one. Got to drive home.’
Their gazes locked and Gina broke away with a smile before grabbing the two beers from the fridge.
‘How are you taking everything? This murder wasn’t only personal when it came to Alexander Swinton, it’s personal against you. That letter must be going through your head constantly.’
She swallowed and plonked the opened beers on the table. It was going through her head, twenty-four seven. Every thought of the letters took her back to her time confined in the shed, where the walls seemed to be closing in on her. She held her expression, not wanting to give her deepest thoughts away. Briggs couldn’t see that she might lose it; he might take her off the case for the sake of her own mental health. That wasn’t going to happen. ‘Alcohol free for you.’
He gave a little laugh. ‘It’s quite nice.’
As she took a gulp, she shrugged. ‘It is what it is, and I have to get on with my job. It scares me that someone has chosen me in all this, but it’s also made me more determined to get whoever is doing this.’
He leaned over the table and gazed into her eyes. She could see that he wanted to kiss her so she cleared her throat and sat back.
‘I suppose I should get going.’ She didn’t disagree with him. ‘Your drive-by protection is due soon, at least we’re keeping an eye on you. And you have my number if you need me.’
She nodded. She had his number, she had all her locks, her alarm system and CCTV. There was no way on earth anyone was getting through all her barriers without causing a commotion. The skin on the back of her neck prickled. A flashback to her lying in the dark shed, curled up against the cold scratchy wall in only her pyjamas, made her shudder. She had only been locked in a shed and that had terrified her with its boarded-up windows. She remembered the first few hours that went slower than the rest of the weekend. The icy chill in the air. She’d grabbed some plastic bags and old sacks to wrap herself in. Hours later, she found herself talking to no one, even making jokes; lucid dreaming followed by night terrors – maybe the effects of mild hypothermia and extreme fear. The thought of being locked in a coffin to the point of losing your mind, then death, didn’t bear thinking about.
‘Are you okay?’
She forced a smile. ‘It’s like Fort Knox here. I’ll be fine.’ Her locks protected her from intruders but they didn’t protect her from the nightmares she knew she’d have that night. She glanced at the wall clock. ‘The drive-by is due in ten minutes. You best grab some pizza and go. I don’t want them coming by and seeing your car here.’
He grabbed one more slice of pizza and gobbled it down. ‘I’m going,’ he jokingly said with his mouth full. ‘But one sniff of a worry, call me immediately.’
She nodded. ‘You know I will.’ And she would. She knew he’d come running without any hesitation. She literally trusted him with her life.
He placed a hand on her shoulder as they stood and rubbed it gently. ‘I’ll message you in a bit.’ With that, he grabbed his coat, swigged the rest of his drink and left, pulling the door closed behind him. Gina hurried to the living room window and gazed out as he pulled away. She dragged the curtains closed and hurried to the front door. Alarm set, deadlocks on. What did the murderer want from her? The letter that the perp had sent ran through her mind.
Trapped people, they claw, they beg, they plead.
She knew how it felt to be trapped. She closed her eyes and saw the outline of a person. Was it the same person who was following Alexander Swinton along George Street? Had they been watching her chasing the kids around the estate? Maybe she’d just got in the way at that point and chosen her as a target.No – they knew too much.
You begged, didn’t you?
Wouldn’t anyone beg and plead if they were being buried alive? This part of the letter didn’t alarm her too much. She walked to the kitchen and took a long swig of beer. Yes it did – it did alarm her. It was as though they were watching her as Terry locked her in the shed. A cold prickle ran across the back of her neck, like someone had reached over to touch her with icy fingers, just like Terry’s when he was about to throttle her.
Now I have your attention.
She felt her hands start to tremble.
Only Terry knew about her being imprisoned in their shed, but Terry was dead. The dead can’t come back to life and haunt the living. Someone knew her secrets? The wind picked up and a light whistle rattled the air vent above the kitchen window. She ran over to the window and pulled the blind down. Ebony burst through the cat flap, making her heart pound. She made a gap in the blind with her fingers and peered out. The foliage at the bottom of her garden rustled as the breeze burst through.
I know. I know everything.
