Behind Closed Doors (Season One: Book 7) (Jessica Daniel)
Read Behind Closed Doors (Season One: Book 7) (Jessica Daniel) Online
Authors: Kerry Wilkinson
KERRY WILKINSON
BEHIND CLOSED DOORS
PAN BOOKS
CONTENTS
COMING SOON: CROSSING THE LINE
PROLOGUE
Liam followed the sound of the footsteps ahead that were cracking and crunching a path through the woods. There was more clamour from behind too, the man so close Liam could
smell his aftershave carrying on the breeze.
As he stared into the darkness of the blindfold, he tried to figure out if the sensation surging along his leg was the normal type of pins and needles he often experienced after waking up, or if
he was actually in pain. He remembered one morning when he was a kid, hearing a banging on the cupboard next to his bed, only to realise it was his foot tapping against the wood. He had been
resting on it the whole night and couldn’t feel a thing. Now the sensation was similar, the stinging he knew he should be feeling replaced by a numbness that made his legs heavy.
Liam felt a hand at the bottom of his back, pushing him along, his feet catching the twigs on the floor, sending him stumbling. The man behind reached forward, grabbing the scruff of his collar
roughly, stopping him from falling and then shoving him again.
‘Keep walking straight,’ he ordered, as if Liam had any thoughts of running away. He knew he was getting what he deserved.
Liam’s shoes scuffed across a loose stone, making him trip. He steadied himself, fumbling in the dark until his hand found a tree trunk that he used to haul his body up quickly before the
man could shove him again.
Behind, he heard a grunt of amusement.
There was a wet patch on his knees from the fall, the first definite sensation he had felt in his legs since being dragged into the woods. The rest of his body seemed unlike his own, his arms
floppy and unresponsive despite the bark chips on his hands, his eyelids heavy and tired. He knew there must have been something in the water he had been given that made him like this but it was
all part of his punishment.
Liam focused on the dampness through his trousers, trying to savour more or less the only thing he could feel. Underfoot, the land began to slope gently downwards. The footsteps in front of him
were moving quickly away but the man was still close behind as a gust of wind howled ominously, swirling and curving through the trees. It chilled Liam’s ears, making him shiver, unbalanced.
With his vision blocked and his limbs sluggish, Liam’s sense of hearing was his only steadying influence and he lurched to the side, skidding on a patch of leaves and getting his foot caught
in something that felt like a rope.
This time there was nothing to use to stop his fall. Liam hit the ground face-first, his head cannoning off a loose rock. He tried to breathe in but inhaled a mouthful of grass, spluttering
painfully as the taste of coppery blood filled his mouth. Jolts rocketed through his hip and it felt as if he had been punched in the chest, the pins and needles firmly replaced by agony. The worst
sting was from where he had bitten his tongue. Blood flowed down his windpipe, making him cough again. He tried to breathe through his nose, only to find more blood there.
Abruptly Liam felt himself being hauled up. The collar was tight around his neck, throttling into his throat. Flecks of blood splattered from his mouth, his chest tight and sore. He wanted to
bend over to compose himself but the man now had both hands on him, one gripping his windpipe, the other wrenching his arm. He yelped in pain, wishing he could feel the pins and needles again, but
there was more to come as his assailant punched him hard across the face, still grasping his throat. Liam was struggling to breathe as a second blow came, smashing across his ear and sending him
sprawling to the ground again.
He heard the hard thud of the man’s boot on his back and legs before he felt it, each crunch punctuated by a tirade of abuse shouting about what a disgrace he was. Liam lay on the floor
hugging himself. He knew that each word the man spat was the truth, each kick a necessary part of his penance.
Finally, he heard the second voice, telling the man to stop and that Liam had had enough. Liam felt one final boot to the back of his neck before he was hauled to his feet. The blindfold had
slipped slightly but he could see only stars anyway. Blood poured from his mouth and nose, dribbling across his chin and dripping to the ground. The man grabbed his arm, hauling him down the rest
of the slope until Liam felt water sloshing around his ankles.
‘Keep walking,’ he was told as his arms were released.
Liam daren’t refuse, staggering forward as the water gradually reached his knees, the icy chill making him gasp in surprise. He was back to not knowing if he was hurting, the water
freezing and boiling at the same time, suppressing the pain of the blows, new and old.
He continued walking until the water was above his waist and then he heard the voice of his saviour. ‘Come to me, Liam.’
The soothing way his name was spoken made him feel as if he was the only person in the world and he took two more steps forward before he felt hands on his neck, untying the blindfold.
Liam blinked rapidly, the searing white of the moon reflecting from the surface of the water and making his eyelids flutter so quickly that the strobing flashes of light and dark reminded him of
being in a nightclub in his younger days.
‘Are you ready?’
Liam nodded, still gasping for breath as his eyes adjusted to the scene. The gentle black of the rippling water was serenely beautiful, a calming, fitting way for him to be cleansed.
‘Kneel.’
He was shivering uncontrollably but Liam did as he was told, the water lapping his chin.
‘Do you know why you’re here?’ he was asked.
‘Yes.’
‘What do you have to say for yourself?’
‘That I’m sorry. I wish I hadn’t gone back to my old ways.’
Liam felt the waves brimming around him, splashing over the top of his lips as their presence closed.
‘That’s good of you,’ the voice cooed. ‘But now it’s time to wash those sins away.’
Liam felt one hand pressing on his forehead, another on his back as he was rocked backwards into the water. He hadn’t taken a breath quickly enough and water flooded into his nostrils and
mouth. His instincts made him want to cough, to gasp for breath, but the hands held him under.
He flailed his legs, trying to squirm towards the surface, but the grip was firm, pushing him down deeper until Liam could feel nothing but the frosty water enveloping him in a final, decisive
baptism.
Detective Sergeant Jessica Daniel stared at the muted television screen as the stream of adverts flittered past. With little else to do and no inclination to turn up the
volume, she made up her own version of what the actors would be saying to each other. A man had taken a gulp of some luminous pink juice and was now running around like a lunatic, women falling at
his feet.
‘Just like real life,’ Jessica said out loud to the empty room as her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorbell.
Quickly, she switched off the television with the remote control and moved around the room until she was sitting underneath the window. There was a knock on the door and then the bell rang a
second time. Jessica held her breath, wondering if the uninvited visitor would be peering through the crack between the curtains above her, looking to see if there was anyone in.
Sometimes the postman came around but Jessica always ignored him, letting her neighbour take in the parcel and then picking it up later. As the door rattled again, Jessica knew it couldn’t
be him. He would never ring the bell more than once, let alone knock twice as well.
The letterbox clanged and then Jessica heard Detective Chief Inspector Jack Cole’s voice echoing through the hallway, calling her name. She tried to work out the last time she had spoken
to him. It was definitely months, with her ignoring his phone calls until they stopped completely.
‘Jess, I know you’re there . . .’
Her name reverberated a second time, not a ‘sergeant’, ‘detective’, or even ‘Jessica’; instead he was letting her know that he wasn’t there as her boss
but as something else.
A friend.
Jessica knew she had abandoned her mates over recent months, not the other way around.
‘Jess, please let me in . . .’
Another knock, another ring of the bell and then a tap on the glass above her.
‘I’ll wait here all day if I have to.’
‘Go away!’
Jessica’s reply had escaped before she had a chance to stop it, ending any pretence that she wasn’t in. The letterbox banged closed and Jessica stood, turning to see Jack’s
face watching through the gap in the curtains. Perhaps it was because of the dim light or silvery skies but his skin seemed greyer than the last time she had seen him. His forehead was crinkled
with worry but he was sporting a kindly half-smile. She couldn’t help but make eye contact as he mouthed ‘Hello’.
She wanted to close the curtains, to tell him to leave her be, but something drew her towards the hallway until she found herself turning the key and pulling the door open.
Jack was standing there, hands in pockets. Rain had welded his thinning hair to his scalp, drops cascading over him, dripping to the floor.
Jessica hadn’t noticed it was raining.
‘Can I come in?’ he asked, glancing towards the sky.
‘Why are you here?’
‘To see you.’
‘You’ve done that now.’
The DCI brushed a flurry of water away from his face. ‘Okay, to talk then.’
‘We’re talking now.’
He snorted a mix of laughter and rain. ‘I’m guessing this is what it feels like to be on the opposite side of an interview room to you.’
Jessica shrugged, not wanting to think about anything from the station.
‘So can I come in?’
Pulling the door open, Jessica stood to the side, not saying anything. Cole offered a ‘thank you’, stepping inside and wiping his feet before she closed the door.
‘I didn’t know you’d moved,’ he said, taking off his coat. ‘HR still have you in a flat in Salford Quays. I had to put a few calls in to find out where you were
living. It was like being a proper police officer again, before all the form-filling came in.’
Jessica took his coat and hung it over the banister of the stairs, leading the way through to the living room.
‘Nice place you’ve got here,’ Cole said. ‘One of the constables before your time used to live in Swinton too. He once told me that the name comes from Old English, where
it meant pig farm.’
Jessica pulled the curtains open, letting the fading grey of the Manchester skies fill the room. She moved to the sofa as the DCI sat opposite her in an armchair.
‘Being called a pig is part of the job, so it’s probably fair enough,’ Jessica replied.
Cole smiled. ‘What was wrong with the flat?’
Jessica wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat but figured she didn’t want to go out of her way to be rude. ‘It wasn’t ours. We were only staying there because of the fire at
Adam’s house.’
Cole nodded. ‘Ah yes, it was your friend’s as I recall.’
Jessica knew he was trying to draw her into a conversation, fishing for information, wondering if they owned this new house together, or if it was just her. She could feel him watching her but
didn’t want to make eye contact. ‘It’s good to see you,’ he eventually said.
Jessica tucked her long, unwashed dark blonde hair behind her ears, suddenly feeling self-conscious about her appearance. She was wearing tracksuit bottoms and a vest-top with loose straps that
kept slipping over her shoulder from where she had lost weight.
‘Why are you here?’
‘Because it’s time we had a chat. I know you’ve been through a lot.’
Jessica felt the lump in her throat that had been all too close recently. She glanced towards the window, not wanting her boss to see the wetness around her eyes.