Behind Closed Doors (Season One: Book 7) (Jessica Daniel) (4 page)

Jessica didn’t get a chance to finish the thought as she looked up to see the group of people standing in a semicircle under the covered area at the front of the Arndale shopping centre.
Charley had shown her a photograph of Zipporah, who was standing in the middle. On the edges were the younger women; attractive and thin, perfect for recruiting vulnerable young people.

After watching them for a few moments, she crossed to the other side of the path, walking towards the group with her head down, hands in pockets.

‘Hello,’ one of the younger girls said as Jessica approached.

Her first instinct was to keep walking, as she did when any of those idiot charity collectors came anywhere near her with a clipboard. Instead, she glanced up at the smiling girl and returned
the smile with a weak one of her own.

‘Morning.’

‘I was wondering if you might have a few minutes free. My name’s Heather and—’

‘I’m not buying anything.’

Heather had long blonde hair tied loosely into a ponytail, with high cheekbones that curved prettily as she smiled. Her face should have been beautiful but her eyes didn’t match the
expression; they looked through Jessica, sad and longing.

‘I’m not trying to sell anything,’ she replied, taking a few steps away from the rest of the group until she and Jessica were by themselves next to a pillar. ‘We’re
here to help people who need it.’

‘What makes you think I need helping?’

Heather couldn’t have been any older than twenty-one or twenty-two. She narrowed her eyes. ‘Do you?’

Jessica wanted to be slightly awkward, thinking most people approached by the group wouldn’t automatically want to be a part of it. They would expect an initial hostility. Heather’s
question took her by surprise, largely because it was so direct.

‘I . . . don’t know,’ she stumbled, truthfully.

Heather nodded slowly, her smile gentler this time. ‘Let me introduce you to Zip.’

She touched Jessica gently on the arm, leading her towards the semicircle. There were murmurs of approval as Heather directed her towards the centre.

There was one man in his early twenties but everyone else was female, all a similar age with one exception – Zipporah. From the few details they had on her, Jessica knew the woman was
thirty-nine, although she looked younger. Her hair was long, straight and black, her eyes a piercing brown. She was looking at Jessica with a motherly sense of concern, even though there were only
a few years between them.

Jessica doubted it was impromptu but the younger people, including Heather, drifted away into twos and threes, clutching leaflets, ready to talk to anyone else nearby.

‘What’s your name, dear?’ Zipporah asked. It was easy to forget how close they were in age because everything about the woman with the exception of her flawless skin exuded
experience.

‘Jessica.’

The woman offered her hand and they shook. ‘I’m Zipporah but many call me Zip. I know you’re probably uneasy about being accosted on the street but I can assure you we mean no
harm to anyone. We’re simply looking for lost souls . . .’

Jessica couldn’t maintain eye contact, glancing awkwardly towards the floor. She wondered if the reason Cole had come to her wasn’t because he thought she was perfect for it from a
policing point of view but because the only way they could truly place someone on the inside was if they found someone dead enough on the inside to fit in. She suddenly felt teary again, giving
herself the perfect cover by actually being the lost soul both sides wanted, a pawn in other people’s games, and she had wandered straight into it.

‘I’m sorry,’ Jessica said, wiping her eye with her sleeve, her voice cracking.

Zipporah rubbed her back softly. ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie, sometimes things don’t work out in our lives.’

Unable to stop herself, Jessica opened up. ‘It all started with my dad . . .’

Before she knew it, she had told the story of the past few months, leaving out the part that she was actually a police officer but giving almost everything else away. She didn’t have to
lie or embellish because this was the life she found herself with.

Shoppers continued to hurry past and she could feel their eyes upon her, wondering who the crazy woman in tears was. If this had been a year ago, she would have been wondering why there was a
group of nutters handing out leaflets and thinking it was strange that someone had been taken in by it. But there was something maternal about Zipporah. She stroked Jessica’s hair and back,
she knew when to speak and when to stay silent. When she did talk, it was with a perfect mix of sympathy and concern.

‘We’ve had many people through our doors with circumstances like your own,’ she said, nodding towards Heather. ‘She’s been through unimaginable things but look at
her now. She’s smiling and talking to strangers.’

‘What is it you do?’

Zipporah smiled kindly. ‘We have a community of our own a little north of here. We believe that much of what goes wrong in people’s lives is down to the expectations and stresses of
the modern world. We are largely self-sufficient and work together to make each other’s lives better. We have people with drug problems, alcohol problems, all coming to stay with us as an
alternative to society’s traditional methods. There are people like yourself who have had a tough time and want to escape from everything. We welcome anyone who is happy to fit in.’

‘How many of you are there?’

The woman smiled again, keeping eye contact as if trying to read Jessica. ‘There are a few of us.’

‘Are you the person in charge?’

This time Zipporah laughed, although it was clearly forced. ‘Oh no, my husband Moses is the person who helps to keep everything running smoothly. We come out to the city centres to recruit
and he makes sure everything is fine at the house. He may be my husband, so you might think me biased, but he truly is a great man.’

‘If I wanted to join, what would I have to do?’

Zipporah lowered her voice, breaking eye contact and stepping closer to Jessica so no one could overhear. ‘We’re not an exclusive community but we do need to make sure everyone is
suitable and will fit in. You would have to be assessed.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘Nothing serious but you have to understand we are private people. Our success is due to the fact we don’t embrace modern society. One of our few concessions is a minibus which we
need to get around. We will be leaving from outside of Piccadilly Station at two if you would like to come with us. Of course I understand that people have various commitments and sometimes cannot
make such a quick decision.’

She reached into her pocket and took out a card, handing it to Jessica. On it was printed the address of the house.

‘If you want to come and find us, subject to the assessment, you would be welcome to do so. Obviously you would not be permitted to bring a vehicle, so you would have to rely on a
different form of transport if you chose not to come on our bus. We realise it is a large commitment but you would also not be permitted to bring anything except for the clothes you have on. Our
entire philosophy is based upon building something new and different. Having things from your old life wouldn’t fit with that.’

Zipporah stepped away again, clearing her throat. It was dawning on Jessica quite how far she was going to have to go. This could be weeks, months, away from everyone. She hadn’t been
spending time with people anyway but at least the option had been there. Here, she would be on her own with no idea of what the ‘assessment’ might mean, let alone anything beyond
that.

Jessica knew she was going to accept but that she could not be on the bus. At the very least, she had to speak to Charley.

Before she could say anything, a man began shouting nearby. Zipporah and Jessica turned at the same time to see a figure with thinning dark hair grabbing at Heather. The other members of the
group surged forward at the same time, putting themselves between the two.

‘She’s my daughter!’ the man yelled. ‘I’ve got a right to see my daughter.’

Heather shrunk away, staying behind the wall of people as Zipporah stepped through them, standing in front of the man.

‘If she wants to see you, she will.’

He jabbed a finger in her face. ‘It’s you, isn’t it? You’re the one who stole her away, filling her head with lies and nonsense. Making her think she was better off
without her family.’

Zipporah was unmoved, even though the man towered over her. Her features were fixed as his finger waved centimetres from her nose. The man was shaking with rage, his large belly bulging under
the bottom of his shirt, long tattoos on both of his forearms. He was glancing over the tops of the people towards his daughter.

‘Heather, honey. Come on, love. We miss you.’

He sounded heartbroken. Heather was next to Jessica, shivering.

‘Are you okay?’ Jessica asked quietly, unsure if she should be taking sides.

‘Just keep him away,’ the young woman replied tearfully.

‘He seems really concerned. I think he just wants to talk.’

‘You don’t understand . . .’

Zipporah continued to stand firm. ‘I think you should leave,’ she said calmly.

‘How can I leave? She’s my daughter. I watched her grow up. I wiped her nose, cleaned the scuffs when she fell off her bike. I picked her up at night, dropped her off in the
mornings. She’s my little girl . . .’

He was close to tears but no one moved and Heather continued to cower, edging slightly behind Jessica so she was out of sight. Shoppers were stopping and staring.

As the stand-off continued, three security guards came out of the shopping centre. Two of them were young and fit, the other was as wide as his colleagues put together. He seemed to be the one
in charge, approaching slowly, one hand on the radio clipped to his belt.

‘We’re going to have to ask you to move on,’ he said, trying to sound firm but clearly out of his depth. Jessica knew the type, a security guard more used to watching monitors
and sending juniors out to do the real work. Somehow he had got himself promoted one rung too far, meaning he had to deal with anything remotely serious. His voice was wobbling more than his
stomach.

Zipporah didn’t take her eyes from Heather’s father. ‘We have a right to be here. We’re here every month.’

The security guard held back, letting his colleagues come between the two parties. ‘I’m afraid you’re going to have to move on, Sir,’ he said.

The man turned away from Zipporah and the two guards to face the one in charge. ‘But she’s my daughter. Don’t you have kids? What would you do if she was stolen away from
you?’

Jessica watched the guard looking nervously from one side to the other. ‘You’re still going to have to move along. The police are on their way.’

She doubted it would be anyone she knew but the last thing Jessica wanted was someone in uniform recognising her, not now she had set things in motion.

‘I’m going to go,’ Jessica said, turning to Heather, her back to the commotion behind them.

‘Were you happy with what Zip said to you?’

Jessica didn’t have to lie. ‘Yes.’

‘Are you going to come to the house?’

‘Do you think I should?’

Heather’s gaze flickered briefly over Jessica’s shoulder towards where her father was still shouting. She suddenly seemed like a young girl, instead of the confident woman of before.
When she focused back on Jessica, she nodded. Jessica didn’t know what she had gone through, or what the issue was with her dad, but the emptiness in Heather’s eyes told her all she
needed to know.

‘I’ll see you soon,’ Jessica said softly, before turning and walking quickly away before her colleagues arrived.

NINE MONTHS AGO

‘It’s always like this,’ Jessica said, turning to Adam. ‘They’ve been going deaf for years. I could stand here all day ringing the doorbell and
they’ll never hear it.’

‘Don’t you have a key to your parents’ house?’

Jessica pressed on the plastic, making sure it wasn’t already open. ‘They got new doors and windows put in a couple of months ago.’

‘Specifically to keep you out?’

Jessica turned, slapping Adam on the arm. ‘Cheeky. I’m the apple of their eyes; their only child off in the big city defending people’s freedoms.’

‘Really?’

‘Well, no. I am in the big city but spend most of my time in an office. I am the apple of their eyes though.’

‘I can’t believe we’ve been going out all this time and now I finally get to see the house.’

Jessica turned back to the front door and knocked again. ‘When I’m rich and famous, there’ll be a blue plaque here, celebrating where I grew up.’

‘What are you going to do to become either rich or famous?’

‘I quite fancy inventing something. Perhaps a stupidity detector? The minute someone’s about to do something dumb, an alarm goes off. It would save me so much work.’

‘What are you going to use to invent it?’

‘Some pieces of wire, a light bulb and a bloody great big mallet. If people start to associate stupid behaviour with being clobbered by a mallet, they’d soon stop.’

Jessica felt Adam’s hands around her hips and shivered, tingles racing along her spine. ‘Come on, let’s go around the back. We’ll be out here all day otherwise,’
she added.

Adam and Jessica moved around the small detached house until they reached a side gate.

‘This is really nice,’ Adam said. ‘I’m not sure what I expected but it wasn’t this.’

‘You’ve met my parents when they’ve been down to Manchester, where did you think they lived? In an igloo?’

Adam laughed, tucking a longish strand of hair behind his ears. Jessica’s subtle hints that he should have it trimmed were falling on deaf ears and she was days away from ordering him to
do it.

‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘I suppose it’s because of you. You’re a city girl, all noise and action. You never stop. I’ve never even been to Cumbria
before but it’s all so . . . quiet.’

‘Unlike me . . .’

Jessica tried to look stern but couldn’t manage it, cracking and breaking into a grin.