Jacob turned the key in the door, the same key that had filled Jennifer’s eyes with so much happiness as they crossed the threshold into their new house. Neither had ever owned their own home and they’d chosen this new build semi together. He imagined walking in and seeing her there, kneeling on the floor maybe cuddling their baby, then he shook his head. She didn’t want him to know about her pregnancy or she would have told him. He felt a stab of sadness as he thought about all that might have been and all he could think of was that he might never get to talk to Jennifer again. He might never get to ask about the baby, then he swallowed. What if she stayed in a coma? What if the baby survived and Jennifer died? He’d heard of that happening to other people. He leaned against the door, a dizzy spell almost taking him to the floor. The talk with the doctor came back to him. The baby was barely holding on. He’d been prepared for the worst news. He had to face it; he’d lose them both.
So many thoughts filled his head. Anger that she kept something so big from him. Sadness that he might never hold her again. Love – despite everything he loved her more than anything. Hope – the fact that her really awful condition hadn’t got worse over the past few hours. He was reminded that all they could do was wait and see. Fear – all he could see was her pale face lying on a bed with a feeding tube down her nose. The thicker tube in her mouth filling her lungs with air, taped around the edge. Her moving chest and her lack of reaction when he held her or spoke. It was as if she was already gone.
With trembling fingers, he opened the door and entered the house. It was no longer a home. As he stepped into the tiled hall and cleared his throat, all he could hear were echoes. It was as if the soul of the house had left and all he saw was an empty shell. One he would have to stay in, alone. He hurried up to the bedroom. Lying on Jennifer’s side of the unmade bed, he could still smell the sweetness of her body spray. The cream-coloured pillow had a slight red tinge where she’d lain on it after not washing her home hair dye out properly. He stood and walked over to her dressing table and picked up her perfume and sprayed it in the air. Closing his eyes, he momentarily hoped that the emptiness inside would go away but his mind couldn’t be deceived that easily.
He closed the door on the bedroom and went back down to the kitchen, switching on the kettle. In the sink were three cups, two stained with lipstick around the rim. Annabel had come over earlier on the Saturday, bringing Cally with her. Jennifer couldn’t wait to show them the house before planning their night out together. An open bag of sweets had been left on the worktop. He imagined Annabel and Jennifer excitedly talking about going out. Then maybe they all sat at the table or in the living room eating sweets and laughing. Then, he spotted a stuffed dog and he knew that Jennifer had bought it for Cally. She must have left it behind. He picked up the toy and clutched it to his chest. For the first time he knew that more than anything he wanted to be a dad. He was ready and it had taken such bad circumstances to make him realise. He wanted to experience playing football with his child, teaching them to ride a bike and swim; watch all his favourite childhood films. He wanted to feel that unconditional and overwhelming sense of love and he wanted to share that with Jennifer, then he came back to reality; one that was darker than he’d ever known.
He grabbed one of Jennifer’s berry tea bags, the ones he said tasted like stagnant pond and popped it in his ‘world’s greatest lover’ mug. Jennifer had given it to him for his last birthday and they’d both laughed as he’d pulled off the wrapping paper. He’d then carried her up to bed, both of them a little drunk and laughing as he dropped her onto the mattress.
He poured the drink and he sipped it. With a grimace, he removed the tea bag, not wanting it to stew any longer. It already tasted bad enough, not like his usual strong coffee or builder’s tea. He went to throw it in the bin, then stopped. The tea bag dripped red onto the kitchen floor as he stared at the note in the bin. Those words sent a churning signal straight to his stomach. Snatching it up, he ran out of his house and headed straight back to the station. Everyone had to see this for themselves.
THIRTY
‘Paula.’ Gina ran out of Tom Whittle’s bedroom and spotted Wyre in a heap at the bottom of the stairs. She almost slipped on the steps in her haste. ‘Where are you hurt?’
Leaning to the side, Wyre allowed the blood to leak out of her nose. ‘I’m okay. He kicked me in the face and I fell down the stairs. I wasn’t expecting that, guv.’ The woman slowly sat up and began to fiddle with the bridge of her nose.
For a second, all Gina could see was her ex-husband, Terry, lying in a heap at the bottom of their stairs, in the position where she left him to die all those years ago. She shook her head and took a deep breath. The only person who truly knew everything that she’d been through was Briggs and she’d lost him to some woman and child who seemed to have already moved in.
‘Guv, can you help me? I’m wedged in?’
Snapping out of her thoughts, Gina nodded. ‘I’m calling it in. We’ll get you seen to. Don’t move. You might have broken something.’
Wyre bled on her sleeve and pulled her phone out. ‘I got this, guv. I haven’t broken anything. I can still move. I’m just going to have some bad bruises and a sore nose. Don’t let him get away. He went out the front. Without his car, he won’t be able to get far. I’m okay, honestly.’
Gina stalled for a moment, not wanting to leave her bleeding colleague but as Wyre began to speak, she knew that help would be on its way. She hurried down the stairs and out the front door. Which way? She glanced back and forth, not having a clue where he went then she saw a flustered elderly man walking up the path. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes, love. People have no manners.’ He shook his head.
‘What happened?’
‘The man who lives there was in so much of a rush, he crashed into me, knocking me off my feet and he didn’t even stop to see how I was. I struggled to get up.’
Gina held up her identification. ‘Can you tell me which direction he went in?’
‘You’re too late. He got into his car, back there and drove away.’ The man pointed. ‘He’s always parking in other people’s spaces. Drives them mad with anger. Loads of neighbours have complained. He’s even used my space and I can’t park too far away, can’t do the walking I used to do.’ The man paused. ‘Has he done something?’
Gina knew she’d lost Whittle. He’d lied about his car being stolen and she now had no doubts that he’d lied about a lot of things. More than anything, she wanted to know what he was running from. ‘We’re investigating an incident. An ambulance should be here in a minute. Please get checked out when it arrives.’
He waved his hand. ‘I’m okay. Just bruised.’
‘What car was he driving?’
‘A Fiesta.’ The man used his stick to hobble away.
Gina ran back to the house and back up the stairs.
‘They’re on their way, guv. Did you catch up with him?’
‘No, he’s driven off in his car, it hasn’t been stolen. He lied to us. Apparently he’s known for using other people’s parking spaces which is why we didn’t spot it.’ She held a hand out to Wyre. ‘Are you able to get up?’
Wyre flinched as she allowed Gina to assist her. ‘Everything hurts but, yes, I’m standing.’ The bleeding from her nose had stemmed. She wiped the drying blood trail with the arm of her jacket sleeve. Slowly they took each step until they reached the bedroom.
Gina picked up the meowing cat and placed it on the landing before shutting it out. She began to pull at the vanity unit against the wall. The banging and scratching became more frequent. She and Wyre lifted it away, leaving a gap big enough to open the door. She thought the wobbly handle might come off in her hands but the hatch creaked open to reveal the storage room. ‘I’m going in.’ She turned on the torch on her phone and pointed it into the small attic. Boxes upon boxes filled it. She pointed the light to the walls and to a corkboard that had been stood on top of a box. Several photos of Miriam had been pinned to it. He’d written the word ‘bitch’ across her face. Then she spotted Annabel’s face. There were other women, too. Gina didn’t recognise them. Some of the photos looked old and worn. Another scratch came from behind the stack of boxes. ‘Police, is that you Annabel?’
The noise stopped. Bending over, Gina headed deeper through the maze of boxes.
‘Be careful, guv. The boards look rotten. Try to stay on the joists.’
