Gina thought back, that was the same night she’d seen him in the café.
‘What time would this have been?’
‘Late, very late. Probably close to midnight. The kids had been a pain in the arse calling us names, that’s why I remember. I then slipped out for a bit, needed to get away but Al stayed behind. I walked the streets for a while and got back in the early hours of Tuesday morning. That woman and the kids were creeping me out. People are scared of bumping into us at night; what they don’t realise is, we’re the vulnerable ones. We’re the ones who get abused and hurt.’ He began tugging at something under the table and pulled a piece of chewing gum out. He pressed it down on the wood. ‘Sorry about that.’ He looked up with glassy eyes. ‘I don’t want to go back to the house, I’m scared. I’m going to be next, aren’t I?’ Shaking, the man hugged himself.
‘When we’ve finished, I’m going to call the council emergency housing team and get you some help.’ The council were going to officially hate her – with cutbacks and limited hostel spaces, they weren’t going to be impressed at all. She knew that if she didn’t take him off the streets, he could very well be right – he could be next. It was a risk she couldn’t take.
‘Thank you, thank you so much. I just need a chance, that’s all. Just a little teeny chance. I won’t screw up, I promise.’
She glanced at Jacob’s notes. Now she had to work out how she was going to find this Shaz or Chez. Her stomach fluttered and not in an exciting way – in a sickening, nervous way. She cleared her throat. Now was not the time to dwell on whether she could trust Briggs, she had to get this description across to him, ready for the next press release.
Who was Shaz or Chez?
Chapter Forty
Christian had taken his dinner to bed and he’d since ignored Cherie. The television above had gone off about an hour ago. She lay on the settee, staring at the ceiling with thoughts of Marcus running through her head. She’d really pushed him this time.
She glanced at her phone: three missed calls from Marcus. Her phone lit up again and this time she answered. ‘What?’
‘I’m seriously worried. I’ve called all the hotels and bed and breakfasts in the area. She hasn’t checked into any of them. Something’s happened.’
‘Look, calm down. You call the police and tell them what?’
‘I just tell them that we had an argument and I haven’t seen her since. That’s the truth.’
Cherie threw one of the scatter cushions to the floor and pulled the old quilt back. ‘They’ll blame you, you know. Husband has row with wife and wife disappears. She’s just having another hissy fit like all the other times.’
He paused on the other end of the phone. ‘Seriously, what have you become?’
‘Nothing that you weren’t already.’ She wiped the bead of sweat forming at her brow.
‘I don’t know you any more.’ He paused. ‘Did you see Alex before he died? You know something, don’t you? That’s why you don’t want me to go to the police. There’s more to this than you’re letting on.’
‘You know why and I’m not going to explain it.’ She clenched her fist. If he called the police, it wouldn’t take long for them all to fall apart – they’d been unravelling ever since Alex had returned.
‘How do I know you didn’t hurt Alex?’
‘How do I know you didn’t? Or Penny, or Isaac? Please spare me the idiocy.’ She let out a nervous laugh.
‘Tell me what it is you’re hiding, then?’ He paused. ‘Tell me, dammit? If you care one bit for Penny, you’ll open your gob now. You know where she is, don’t you?’ She could hear him seething. If he was next to her, she knew she’d feel specks of spittle coming through his teeth as he awaited her answer.
Hands shaking like a branch in a storm, she ended the call. He was not going to be the one to break her. She had no idea whether she could trust him, or Isaac. A sharp pain flashed through her head. She dragged the quilt over her face and lay there in darkness as the oxygen slowly began to run out. Gasping, she threw the quilt back. That’s how it felt for Alex and he didn’t have the option of coming up for air. Her phone beeped and she opened the message.
After reading it, she knew her whole world was about to come crashing down.
Chapter Forty-One
Now
Monday, 2 November
Hot and so sticky. Gina threw back her quilt and pressed her hand against her damp chest. Half asleep and half awake, she could hear the sound of her watch ticking on her bedside and then it faded again. Now she could see Briggs and Terry in her dream. Both laughing and overpowering her, moving in closer until she was suffocating under them. No longer able to breathe as their arms came down, they finally trapped her in the corner of the shed, then it lit up, flames consuming every part. The skin on her hand dripping like wax from a tipped-up candle.
A swift intake of breath fully woke her. As she grappled for the sweat-drenched quilt, she almost rolled off the edge of the mattress, crumpling the paperwork that Wyre had passed her as she’d left the station. She placed the list of names on the other side of the bed. Everyone who had been charged with any fire-related crime over the past forty years, from this area, was on that list.
The moon shone through the window, catching her bedside lamp and window ledge. She grabbed a tissue from her top drawer and wiped her chest and brow. It was just a dream. Nothing more. She was safe in her home. Reaching out, she felt for the panic button. It was still there, next to her watch. One press and she’d have the police here in next to no time.
With jellied legs Gina stood and walked over to the window. Getting to sleep had been a chore, not only had people been setting off fireworks in the distance but every thought of the day had been clogging up her mind. She gazed out of the window. The fireworks had long stopped and from what she could see, nothing seemed out of the ordinary tonight in rural Warwickshire, not like the other night. The shadows were exactly where they were meant to be and nothing was out of place. She pushed the window open and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the chilly breeze as it hit her sticky head. Terry and Briggs, her dream – it was knocking her sick. Her dry throat caught as she tried to swallow, urging her to grab the two-day-old glass of water and take a sip.
