Mattie grinned. “I didn’t want to be so arrogant as to presume.”
“I’ll even bring something to cook.” Nell glanced at the time and sighed. “I need to get a move on. I’ve no idea what the traffic will be like, and I detest being late.”
Driving along the narrow lane and having kissed Mattie for longer than she had time for, Nell realised she was smiling so much that her jaw was at risk of aching. Spending time with Mattie could easily become addictive. Each new facet of character that Mattie unveiled drew Nell to her more: the rapport with Leon as they’d signed in BSL, her offer to mentor Rosie, lifting her up rather than having an ego trip. And then there was last night. Nell hadn’t meant to reveal how inadequate she felt, but Mattie had been so compassionate and non-judgemental.
The traffic light turned red, and Nell had to brake hard, only registering its change at the last moment.Focus. She needed to be hyper-alert, and not just on the thirty-minute drive to work. While Mattie had intimated that she was well-schooled against emotional attachment, it was Nell’s flaw. She fell hard and heavy. That was why she’d stayed away from any kind of relationship since her divorce. After the way Gavin had treated her, she’d found it impossible to trust, so keeping everyone at arm’s length had been the safest option. Yes, she’d gone against the grain with Mattie. No, she didn’t regret it. But the moment she feared she was in danger of emotional attachment, she would have to bail.
Nell arrived at the office on time and went straight into a briefing on the arson at the women’s refuge.
“We’ve got a potential match with the estranged partner of the injured woman.” DI King flicked a new slide onto the large screen. “On the left is a photo taken by a witness at the scene. On the right is a mug shot of our suspect. There are sufficientsimilarities between the two, despite the witness photo being blurred.”
Nell had the witness photo – taken by Mattie – imprinted in her mind. It’d made a huge difference to the investigation and Nell regretted that she couldn’t share as much with her.
“The man’s last known address is in Hull,” King said. “The Humberside force has already visited his home address, but he wasn’t there and hasn’t been seen by neighbours for two or three weeks.”
He moved onto the next slide featuring a white, medium-sized Transit van. “This is one of our strongest leads. A rental company in Exeter said a man bearing a strong resemblance to our suspect hired this van from them six days ago and is due to return it tomorrow.” King referred to his notes. “He paid for it with a credit card, which matched the name on the driving licence he provided. However, while both were valid, they belong to a thirty-four-year-old man from Blackpool who was in Tenerife at the time of booking. We’ve got an undercover police presence on site at the rental company should our suspect return the vehicle before or on time. It’ll make our job a lot easier if he does, so we’re going to hold off on going public with the registration plates until after that deadline has passed.” He turned to Nell. “How’s it going with checking ANPR and CCTV?”
Nell was conscious of everyone in the crowded room switching their attention to her. “The rental vehicle’s registration number hasn’t pinged any of our cameras, so it’s likely he’s keeping off the motorway and main roads. It’s also possible he’s swapped the registration plates. He might be using the van to sleep in, so we’re checking CCTV in car parks, making enquiries at camp sites, and visiting unofficial parking spots in the area.” She held her hands up. “It’s also possible that he’s abandoned the vehicle and is no longer in the area.”
King nodded. “Is he known to have any contacts locally?”
“None that we know of,” she said. The investigation was time-consuming work and so far, there’d been no reward. Police protection had to be maintained at the hospital where Lexi and her son were being treated. The chances of the abuser trying to gain access to them were small—they’d been very careful not to name her or the hospital, and there were procedures in place—but she wasn’t prepared to take the risk of leaving them unprotected.
After the meeting wrapped up, Nell returned to her desk to read the two background reports. Results from forensic evidence extracted from what was left of the refuge had confirmed petrol had been sprayed across the room and at the entrance to the fire escape.
The second report related to the suspect’s case file. She parked her personal feelings in order to read the text impartially. She didn’t want to miss anything because she was too emotional. Charges of assault against him had been dropped after Lexi refused to give evidence because she wanted to give him a second chance. The next time, he beat her badly enough to require medical attention for a broken eye socket and fractured nose, but she still refused to report him, and the couple continued to live together. Over the course of three years, the domestic violence escalated until she accused him of rape and threats to kill. Fearing for her life, Lexi had found safety at a women’s refuge three hundred miles from home but somehow, he’d tracked her and their son down.
Nell flared her nostrils. People like him deserved to be locked away for a long time. Gavin once again came to mind, but she refused to focus on the individual specifics of his face. She didn’t want to picture him, to recall his derisive snarl or replay his cruel barbs, but a statement dressed as fear continued to nudge her until she gave it voice:This could have been me.
Nell squeezed her fists as she pushed hard against her desk.No. She wouldn’t allow this. She was tired and emotional because she’d spent half the night having sex with Mattie instead of sleeping. A knock on her partially open door interrupted her.
“Ma’am?” PC Whyte pushed it open fully when Nell responded with a head tilt. “We need someone to cover the front desk for thirty minutes.”
Nell called up the rota on her screen. “Where’s PC Reed?”
“Stuck in a broken-down patrol car out on the coast road.”
Swearing silently, Nell pushed her chair back and stood. The front desk, their window to the general public, had to be open at all times, and finding someone else at such short notice would take so long that it’d be quicker to cover the role herself. She might strike it lucky, and there wouldn’t be any visitors.
Twenty minutes later, she’d already dealt with a woman who’d lost her dog, and a man who’d brought in an expensive-looking watch he’d found in the street. Now she was trying to stay professional while a grey-haired man in his mid-sixties complained vigorously about a “vagabond who is urinating in my garden.” Who called someone a vagabond these days?
The man jabbed his finger at the glass division between them. “It’s anti-social behaviour. There are laws against it, you know. It’ll kill my photinia hedging. I only planted it last month.”
She’d read in a gardening blog that heavily diluted urine was being touted as an eco-friendly fertiliser because it contained nutrients such as phosphorous and potassium, but she resisted the urge to share that and instead asked for the man’s name and address so she could log his complaint. “Have there been issues like this before, Mr Sadler?”
He gave her a withering look. “Numerous. All of which I’ve reported, and none of which have been dealt with. That space should’ve been left alone to become a nature reserve, but no, the council turned it into a car park.” Spittle flew from his mouth.“Now we have to contend with youths hanging around at all hours drinking and taking drugs, no doubt, and then there are the fly-tippers and the tourists who treat it as a campsite.”
The mention of a car park snagged Nell’s train of thought. “How many days has this urinating been happening?”
“Three or four. He’s been sleeping in a white van from what I can tell. The car park backs onto my garden. That’s why I planted the photinia, to block the view,” he said.
“How can you be sure if you’ve blocked the view?”
“I’ve been watching him with my binoculars from an upstairs window. There’s no crime in that.” Mr Sadler reddened. “You need to prosecute him for public indecency and force him and that van of his to move on.” He slapped a dog-eared notepad on the counter. “I’ve made your job easy for you. This is his registration plate.”
Nell checked, and it matched the number of the arson suspect’s rental van. Mind racing, she sent out an urgent call for one of the investigation team to come to the front desk. While they waited, she called up the mugshot of the arson suspect. “Does the man in the van have any resemblance to this person?”
Mr Sadler peered at the screen and frowned. “His skin colour’s the same, but he hasn’t got a beard, and his hair is much scruffier.”
