Next to Die (22 page)

‘How do you know I’m not happy with Sean?’

‘Because you wouldn’t be here now, with me, talking about your feelings, if you were.’

‘We’re just two people who never see each other,’ she said, and then she shook her head. ‘Can we talk about something else, because we’re staying as just friends, aren’t we?’

‘It seems that way.’

‘And if I wasn’t with Sean?’

‘Don’t promise to leave him, just to make me feel better,’ Joe said, and as he looked at her, he recovered the memory of her from their student days. Her kiss. Her passion. ‘If I come for you, you won’t turn me away, will you?’

‘No, I won’t. I’ll be there for you, Joe. I have always been there for you.’

He slid out of the bench seat. He had to use the gents, and, more importantly, he needed to work out what was going on.

The toilet was empty. Just a line of cracked porcelain urinals and an old sink on one wall. He settled himself in front of one of the urinals and thought about the conversation he’d just had with Kim. He felt that buzz of something about to happen, but he wanted to step back from it. Kim was with someone else.

He didn’t pay any attention to the sound of the door behind him. He was zipping himself up as footsteps made soft sounds on the tiled floor. As he turned to go to the sink there was a sudden movement. The noise of clothes, the slide of footwear, and then a grunt of effort followed by an explosion in his head.

Everything went quiet, and the world tilted, his legs not going where he expected them to go. He was falling, and as he watched as the floor got closer, he knew that his arms weren’t out and that his face was going to break his fall.

Then there was just darkness.

Thirty-Eight

Sam’s daughters were in bed by the time he arrived home, Alice with them upstairs. That happened too often. He could hear Alice reading a story. He listened for a moment. It was a story for Emily,
Green Eggs and Ham
.

He thought about a beer, but he knew that there was no solace there. His father had tried his own escape down that route, and it ended in a stroke and a grave plot alongside Ellie. He threw his keys onto the kitchen top and put his head in his hands, and for a moment he enjoyed the stillness. The meeting with Ben Grant had made him feel dirty, that Grant had somehow managed to invade his life by talking about his sisters, and his wife.

He stood upright and leaned back against the wall, his head resting on the tiles. It was the part of policing he hated most, the way he brought things home. Even when he was doing the financial cases it was the same; he would wonder whether he had missed something, a link to an account that would reveal the undisclosed assets or the villa in Spain that was supposed to be a secret. And for what? So he could be taunted by sickos like Ben Grant while his own children went to bed without seeing their father? He was trying to do the right thing, that was all, a job that should make his children proud and feel protected, but it meant long hours. He couldn’t just leave in the middle of an investigation, because there would always be those who would work for as long as they could. Sometimes it was just to get noticed. Other times, it was because they cared about the job. So it meant nights like these, where he got home to find his children saying farewell to the day.

He shouldn’t think like that, though. It was destructive, a sign that Ben Grant was winning. He heard Alice come downstairs slowly, and as she hit the bottom, there were the shuffles of little feet on the wooden floor, followed by a squeal as his eldest girl saw him in the kitchen and ran towards him in a pink sleepsuit.

He knelt down to pick her up. She smelled of bubbles and talcum powder and so much innocence. She put her arms round him and gave him a toddler squeeze, where it was all cheek against cheek. She giggled some more as he tickled her and tried to inject some fun into his evening, but his day hung too heavy. Alice pecked him on the cheek. She was in late-evening baggy pants, her hair pulled back. She looked tired.

‘Emily heard you,’ Alice said. ‘I knew I wouldn’t get her to sleep until she’d said hello.’

That made him smile. ‘I’m glad,’ he said. ‘Sorry I’m late. It’s hectic.’

‘How is it going?’

Sam was about to tell her about where he had been that afternoon, to see Ben Grant, to tell her what a vile human being he was, but then he remembered Grant’s taunts, how Alice would enjoy hearing about him, that it would excite her.

‘All routine stuff. Nothing much happening.’

She took Emily from him. ‘There’s a microwave meal in the fridge if you’re hungry.’

And so went the rhythms of their life. Sam brought in the money, Alice kept their home life afloat. He wasn’t always sure that was how she wanted it, but his job had been too good to give up when their first child came along, and it made more sense for Alice to be at home rather than paying for childcare. But recently he had detected some boredom, and he worried that she spent too much time waiting for him to come home.

Their life was routine, but life was like that, long stretches of the mundane broken up by moments of happiness.

‘Is Amy asleep?’ he said.

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll just go and say goodnight anyway.’ He pulled at his tie as he walked up the stairs. As he went into Amy’s bedroom, he saw she was on her front, her knees pulled up, foetal, her hair a thin blonde sprawl that flowed onto the sheet. Soft toys lined her cot, a world of innocence. He stroked her hair. He was about to lean down to kiss her when his phone chirped in his pocket.

He cursed the noise and looked at the screen. It was his mother. He remembered that he had promised to go see her. He backed out of the room to answer. ‘Hi, Mum. I’ll be up there in a bit.’

‘Sam, you’ve got to come round now.’

His mother was shouting, distressed.

‘Mum, what’s wrong?’

She paused as she took some deep breaths, and then said, ‘It’s Ruby.’

He went cold. ‘Ruby? What’s wrong?’

‘Ruby said that someone was following her. She’s scared, Sam.’

He closed his eyes. His mind shot back fifteen years to the day Ellie never made it home from school, and that same sick feeling in his stomach was there again, the knowledge that danger lurked so closely. And he remembered Grant’s taunt.

‘I’ll be right there,’ he said, and then he ran down the stairs.

Monica was sitting on her bed, turning the pages of a magazine, the television blaring its mid-evening tedium of reality shows. Her nights were too often like this during the week, as the bare minimum of a trainee’s salary didn’t stretch to luxuries. Her surroundings were less salubrious than what she had hoped for when she was still a law student, living out of what her landlord called a studio apartment on Lower Broughton Road, an area of once grand houses turned into bedsits and student accommodation. In her world, it just meant that there was no living room, only a bedroom and a kitchen.

Her phone rang. She looked at the screen. The number was unfamiliar. ‘Hello?’

‘Monica? It’s Ronnie.’

She was confused for a moment. It took her a few seconds to realise that she knew only one Ronnie, her mind having made that separation from her working day. When she made the connection, she remembered that she had given Ronnie her number, just in case there was a development. She was getting used to the fact that criminal law was conducted at strange hours. Criminals don’t work nine to five, and don’t even take time off for bank holidays.

‘What can I do for you, Ronnie?’

‘I need to show you something. It’s important. It’s about Carrie. I think I’ve seen her.’

‘Really?’ Monica sat up, suddenly alert.

‘Yes, but you’ve got to come now.’

Monica looked down at her magazine, then at the view out of her window, towards a brick alley and a broken streetlight, the back yard crammed with the rubbish bins needed for all the flats in the building. Her evening wasn’t unfolding with any excitement, and she realised that Joe would expect her to go. He wanted her to stay on after she qualified, but she had to keep on impressing him or else he might change his mind.

‘How sure are you?’ she said.

‘Absolutely, and she had Grace with her, but no one will believe me. They’ll believe you though.’

Monica knew he was right. There was nothing in it for her to lie. The firm would lose money if the case finished early.

‘Where are you? You sound different. I can hardly hear you.’

‘Outside Victoria station. That’s where I saw her. I know where she might have gone, but I’m scared to go there in case I’m wrong.’

Monica thought about the rest of the evening, about how tired she was, but this was going to be her life, running around at a criminal’s request. She had only been with the firm for a few months, but already she had got used to being a taxi and cigarette provider. And it was only a short drive to Victoria. ‘I’ll be five minutes. Wait there.’

She slipped her dictation machine and a pad of paper into her bag, and was about to head for the door when she thought about her camera. Photographic evidence would be even better.

She paused for a moment. Was she doing the right thing? She dialled Joe’s number, just to check, but his phone went straight to voicemail. She had to go. This was a chance to end the case, to prove that Carrie and Grace were alive. She checked herself in the mirror, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, wearing jeans and a long black jumper, and then headed for the door.

The evening was still warm, and she swatted away midges as she walked quickly along the crumbling path that led down to the pavement outside. The road became a race track at night, a long sloping curve connecting North Manchester to Salford, but it was quieter than normal. No one to bother her.

She was cautious though, because Ronnie unnerved her. She had caught him staring at her a few times, and it wasn’t the usual flick up and down she got from men, checking out her figure. It was more intense than that, direct, in her eyes, and never looking down. And he had got too close at times, almost as if he was trying to smell her. She knew she was taking a risk, but she had seen Ronnie and knew she could handle him.

Her car keys were in her hand, her Mini parked on the road outside. She clicked the fob on her car and noticed that the lights didn’t flicker. She must have left it unlocked. She gave a silent thank you to Ronnie, because her car wouldn’t have made it through the night if she had left it like that. There were too many who had given themselves night shifts, patrolling the streets, checking front doors and car door handles. She had heard rumours of turf wars, streets and estates divided, with the old hands given the nice new estates built in the spaces left by closed down factories, where each driveway had two cars filled with iPods and satnavs. Her Mini wouldn’t have got past midnight.

She climbed in and locked the doors, putting her bag on the passenger seat. Monica enjoyed the security of her car. It was the quiet stillness of the interior, the danger of the night just outside, but it was muffled, on the other side of the glass. She checked her hair in the mirror. Although she was in her own clothes, she was still representing the firm.

She slid her keys into the ignition. She stopped. There was a noise just behind her. A rustle, like something moving. She looked over to her bag. Perhaps it had settled.

There it was again. Then there was a giggle.

She gasped, a scream forming, and then there was the sound of fast movement.

An arm went around her neck, cutting off her scream. It was tight, making her choke. Her eyes flashed to the mirror. She saw just the gleam of gritted teeth. Hot breath was against her ear. Her hands reached behind her head, to try to grab, to fight, but something hit her on her temple. Everything went quiet, and Monica slumped to one side.

Thirty-Nine

Joe’s world only started to focus properly at Gina’s house. He remembered the coldness of the toilet floor against his cheek, being helped to his feet, being handed the remains of his phone, cracked and broken when he hit the ground. He didn’t know who had taken him to a taxi, but that’s where he ended up, his head leaning against Kim, her arm around his shoulder. There were words of encouragement, that he was going to be all right, and then frustration that he wouldn’t go to a hospital.

He told Kim that he’d slipped, but she hadn’t believed him. She said she had seen someone rushing out. Kim had tried to get him to call the police, but he refused. Kim didn’t want to leave him on his own though, and so she got Gina’s number and called her. There was a cut above his eye, but it was more swollen than bloodied, and there was blood coming from the back of his head.

Gina sat down next to him and pressed a cold cloth against the swelling over his eyes. Kim had gone.

‘You didn’t slip, did you?’ she said, her voice soft.

He opened his eyes. She was still blurred, her voice fainter than it should be, but he could think more clearly.

‘No. Someone hit me.’

‘Did you get a good look?’

‘I was at the sink. I just heard the rush, and the next thing I knew there were people around me.’

‘Do you want me to call the police?’

Joe shook his head, but then winced. ‘No, like I told Kim, you know how much they’ll enjoy it, a defence lawyer as a victim.’

‘Yeah, I can imagine it,’ she said, and then, innocently, ‘So before then, how did it go with Kim?’

Joe was able to raise a smile at that. ‘We’re old friends.’

‘You’re more than that, Joe. I could see it in her eyes when she brought you round here. But why didn’t she take you to her place?’

‘Her boyfriend might have objected.’

Gina tutted. ‘If that’s how you behave, I’m not surprised you got hit.’

‘It wasn’t a jealous boyfriend. I haven’t seen the action to deserve it. There is one thing though: there has been someone hanging around outside the office.’

‘You should have said.’

‘It’s a public garden. I can’t start panicking every time someone stares at the office.’

‘But you spotted this one. How long has this person been there?’