The two women stared at each other, refusing to back down. Harwood had been in full spate, castigating Charlie for her irresponsibility, when Charlie had thrown in her bombshell. She was resigning from the force with immediate effect.
Harwood, with that effortless ease that ambitious people possess, paused momentarily, then just steamrollered on. She refused to accept Charlie’s resignation. She would give her time to reconsider, to pull back from the very serious mistake she was making, in order to fulfill her destiny within the force. Charlie wondered if Harwood had promised the police commissioner that she would step into Helen’s shoes and that their very high-profile investigation wouldn’t suffer as a result of Helen’s abrupt departure.
“Charlie, we need you. The team needs you,” Harwood continued, “so I’m going to ask you to swallow this for now.”
“I can’t. I’ve given my word.”
“I understand that, but perhaps if I met with Steve? I know he had a problem with Helen, but she’s not a factor anymore.”
“She is to me. Which is all the more reason why—”
“I appreciate loyalty, I really do, but you don’t seem to be seeing the bigger picture. We are about to bring this killer in and I need every available body on the case. Weneedto bring this to a close. For the good of everybody.”
For the good of your career,Charlie thought, but she said nothing.
“At the very least I would expect you to work your notice period. You know how funny HR can be about pensions and so on when people break the terms of their contract. Do that for me at least and help us see this thing to a close.”
Charlie capitulated shortly afterward. The truth was shedidfeel bad about deserting Sanderson, McAndrew and the rest at this crucial time. Nevertheless, it felt profoundly odd as she took her place in the incident room. Without Helen, things were very different.
Sanderson had brought Harwood up to speed. The latter was now briefing the team, but Charlie had zoned out, boringly aware of the protocols Harwood would employ. They hadn’t traced Ella yet, but it was only a matter of time now—they had too much on her. Harwood was getting to the point and Charlie snapped out of it as her new boss finally bared her teeth.
“Priority is to bring Ella Matthews in as quickly and cleanly as possible,” Harwood announced. “She is a multiple murderer who will kill again and again unless stopped. I have therefore asked for and obtained an emergency court order allowing the use of deadly force in her apprehension. Tactical Support are mobilized and will step up if required.”
Charlie shot a look at the team, who looked surprised and uncomfortable, but Harwood carried on regardless:
“We have one simple task now. And that is to bring Ella Matthews in. Dead or alive.”
109
She had approached the house with extreme caution and was surprised—and alarmed—to find that it wasn’t necessary. The press pack had inexplicably deserted Robert’s house. Calm had returned to this quiet cul-de-sac, but it was a mournful silence—the modest detached house looked lonely and desolate as the rain swept over it.
Helen stood still, getting more saturated with every passing second, as she debated what to do. Desperate to see for herself what Robert was going through, she had come to Cole Avenue in silent pilgrimage, but it was obvious now that something had happened. Something had driven the clamoring hacks away.
She was still standing there debating what to do next, when the front door opened. A middle-aged woman shot a look here and there, as if expecting to be jumped, then hurried to a small hatchback that sat in their drive. She deposited a suitcase in the back, then turned again toward the house. Then she paused and swiveled to take in the sight of a beautiful woman in biking leathers standing stock-still. Suspicion, then a moment of comprehension in Monica’s face, before suddenly and unexpectedly she started marching toward Helen.
“Where is he?” Helen blurted out.
“What have you done?” Monica spat back, fury rendering her words shaky and unstable.
“Where is he? What’s happened?”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
Monica shrugged and looked away. She obviously did not want to let Helen see her cry.
“Where?” Despite her shame, Helen’s tone was angry and impatient.
Monica looked up sharply.
“He must have gone last night. We found a note this morning. He... he says he probably won’t see us again. That it’s for the be—”
She broke down. Helen went to comfort her, but was angrily shrugged off.
“God damn you for what you’ve done to him.”
She marched away into the house, slamming the door viciously behind her. Helen stood in the rain, not moving. She was right, of course. Helen had wanted to save Marianne. She had wanted to save Robert. But she had damned them both.
