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

On the ground floor, Heather took her along a darkened corridor, grinning as she opened a door. ‘You’re going to like this,’ she said. ‘This is our games room. It’s
where some of us relax in the evenings. At the moment it’s empty because everyone is working.’

Jessica allowed herself a slight smile, knowing the contents of the room were like something DC Rowlands could only have dreamed about. There was a full-size snooker table, two table football
games, a darts board at the far end and four long sofas.

‘It beats watching television, doesn’t it?’ Heather said.

Except for her late-night talk-show vice, Jessica had never been a big viewer anyway. ‘Does that mean there are no TVs or radios in the entire house?’

Heather nodded, apparently enjoying being Jessica’s guide. ‘Absolutely not. It’s one of Moses’s main rules. Who needs them anyway? We have more than enough here to
entertain us.’ She turned back towards the door. ‘Come on.’

Across the corridor from the games room, Jessica noticed a door built into the underside of a staircase but Heather had already moved past before she could ask about it. The stairs didn’t
actually seem to go anywhere, they were more decorative. Even if you walked to the top, there was no opening to the next floor. Heather stopped, pointing to a door on the other side of the stairs.
‘That’s Moses’s office,’ she said. ‘It’s the only place I know about which is out of bounds.’

‘Why?’

Heather crossed her arms, frowning. ‘Because those are the rules.’

‘Okay, I’m sorry.’

Heather nodded sharply, but it was clear that any form of insolence was not tolerated. Not only that but Jessica could see in Heather’s expression that the thought of doing something
untoward had not crossed her mind. She knew she was going to have to be careful.

They moved on through the house, Heather showing Jessica into a large open hall. Lines of people sat at workbenches, talking quietly to each other. As Heather led Jessica into the room, none of
them acknowledged their presence, continuing to focus on what they were doing.

‘This is our work hall,’ Heather said. ‘Here we make clothes and crafts. We help each other to become better. If Moses thinks this is where you are best suited, you might end
up here.’

‘I’m not very good with a needle and thread.’

Heather laughed. ‘Neither was I before I came here. Usually I’d be working but Zip said I could finish early to show you around.’

That was interesting to Jessica because she hadn’t told Zipporah if or when she would be arriving. Perhaps she had been watched as she was sitting in the rain, and that was when Zipporah
had sent for Heather?

Although everyone generally appeared to be young, it was hard for Jessica to judge who they were as they were largely working with their heads down, talking to each other without looking up. It
could appear rude but Jessica sensed it was more because they were focused on what they were doing, as opposed to deliberately wanting to ignore her.

‘What do you do with the crafts?’ Jessica asked.

‘Zip and a few of the girls go to market once a week. We sell some of the clothes we make, plus the crafts. It’s nothing over the top but it shows us how we have to work for what
we’ve got. Everything is provided – our food, our drink, our roof. Nobody gets anything for free. Plus it teaches us new skills. Everyone wins because we all have a purpose.’

Her words sounded genuine, if rehearsed, and Jessica couldn’t fault too much of the logic. Perhaps if people struggling with alcohol and drug dependency were taught new skills and given
somewhere to develop their talents, they wouldn’t need to return to their vices? The issue of punishment and rehabilitation was something that raged far above her place in the criminal
justice system.

As they were leaving, Jessica had to remind herself she was here investigating a murder and potentially a string of missing people. Her natural suspicion of anything that seemed too perfect on
the surface was almost lacking, as if she too had been taken in by the stunning surroundings and the pleasantness of the people.

Heather led Jessica towards the front door, unbolting it and leading the way outside. The rain had stopped and faint rays of sunshine were beginning to peek through the thinning clouds.

‘Is this the only door out?’ Jessica asked as Heather made her way across the front of the house, turning along the side.

‘It’s the only one we use.’

At the rear of the house, a long patch of grass had been ploughed into long troughs. Half-a-dozen men were doing a mixture of jobs from planting, to raking, to clipping.

‘This is where we grow our food,’ Heather said. ‘We sell some of it but most of it is eaten by us. We only buy a few things, such as meat, because we don’t keep animals
here.’

On the edge of the patch, a thick-set man was standing, scowling at them. Heather lowered her voice.

‘That’s Glenn,’ Heather said without prompting. ‘He’s in charge of outdoor operations and he’s close to Moses.’

Glenn continued to stare at them. He was too far away for Jessica to see any of his features in depth, but he had broad, strong shoulders and greying hair.

‘Come on, let’s go inside,’ Heather added, sharing Jessica’s unease.

In the house, Heather showed Jessica the kitchen and laundry room, each filled by people working. A couple of them even said hello, before instantly getting back to what they were doing.

She couldn’t be exact but Jessica counted around thirty people working in the various places – far fewer than she would have guessed. Judging by the apparent size of the house, they
could have a room each and still have plenty of space left over. Aside from Glenn outdoors, none of the departments seemed to have anyone in charge, they simply all got on with what they were
supposed to be doing.

‘Do you get paid?’ Jessica asked as they reached the staircase again.

‘What would we need money for? Everything we need is provided. We are paid through being able to live comfortably and safely. What more could you want than that?’

There was an implication that something in Heather’s past meant that there was a time when she hadn’t felt safe but Jessica didn’t want to push things, at least not so soon
after arriving.

Heather led the way back to the clothes store, entering behind Jessica. ‘If you want to choose a few things, we’ll take them back to the room now.’

Jessica began walking along the rails, paying more attention now she wasn’t dripping wet. ‘Are you allowed to take anything you want?’

‘It’s not about want, it’s about need. These clothes belong to all of us. We are a check upon each other.’

She pulled a long, flowing cream dress from the rack, holding it up for Jessica to see.

‘I made this one.’

Jessica took it from her, running her fingers along the soft, smooth material. ‘It’s really nice.’

‘Why don’t you take it? I’m sure it would fit you.’

Jessica rarely wore dresses but even when she did, it was never something that reached her ankles. She was far from fashion-conscious but knew what she liked. She associated long dresses with
people much older than her.

Despite her talk of the items belonging to everyone, Jessica could tell that Heather was proud of what she had created. She suspected the girl would have taken it for herself if it was the done
thing.

Jessica placed the hanger around her neck, checking to see if the dress would fit.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘If no one else minds, I’d love to take it.’

Heather beamed with pride, bobbing up and down on the spot, unable to contain herself.

‘It’s the first dress I made. I’ve done smaller things but it was something new.’

Jessica chose a few more items from the racks, trying to pick things that wouldn’t make her stand out, not that there was much risk of that.

Back in the room, Heather helped Jessica to hang the clothes. They shared a wardrobe that was so wide, it would have satisfied even Jessica’s friend and former housemate, Caroline. They
had lived together for years, with Caroline constantly complaining about the lack of space for her clothes and shoes. Heather had around a dozen items hanging up and two pairs of shoes: a pair of
low heels she said was for dinner and the trainers she had on. Jessica had the same amount of clothes, leaving a gaping hole in the centre of the wardrobe wide enough to fit three people
side-by-side.

‘Dinner will be soon,’ Heather said. ‘We all eat together and are expected to change after a day at work.’

Without any obvious self-consciousness, Heather slipped off her clothes, placing them onto her bed and folding them.

Jessica moved across to the window, staring out towards the gate in the distance. The sun was winning the battle with the clouds, a hazy orange glow spreading across the sky. She tried pulling
down the handle but it was rigidly fixed in place.

‘It’s locked,’ Heather said.

Jessica turned to see her roommate wearing only her underwear. She could see her ribs pressing into her skin but Heather had no apparent embarrassment or concern at being so exposed in front of
a relative stranger.

‘Why? We’re three floors up.’

‘All of the windows are locked. It’s for our own protection.’

Zipporah had said something similar, that one of the main aims was to keep them safe. Jessica had been a police officer long enough to know that most places like this were kept secure not to
keep strangers out, but to stop people getting out. Already she had only one way to leave – through the front door – and she suspected that would not be so easy if it came to it. One of
the first rules of heading into somewhere new and unscouted was to know where the exits were; the more the better. Charley’s hints about Jessica getting herself to safety if need be were
proving unerringly disconcerting given the apparent prison she found herself in.

Jessica remained calm, knowing there were still areas of the house she hadn’t seen yet. There must be at least one other door somewhere, even if it was blocked or hidden. One of her first
priorities when she had some time alone would be to plot an exit strategy.

Heather flicked through her wardrobe, pulling out a dress that came to just below her knee. She pressed it against herself. ‘I’m too thin for everything,’ she muttered, barely
loud enough for Jessica to hear. As the young woman took out a skirt and twisted it around in her hand, tutting, Jessica thought it was a strange attitude for someone apparently unconcerned that
the style of the clothes they wore was chosen by someone else.

In Jessica’s experience, for all the talk of equal rights, liberation and feminism, the biggest reason most people got dressed up – male or female – was to impress the opposite
sex. It might not be so in every case but Jessica could see from the way Heather was prodding at her own skin that there was someone she wanted to make an impact on.

‘That looks nice,’ Jessica said as Heather held up a second dress, this one green and slightly shorter.

The younger woman didn’t seem so sure, making a humming sound before eventually taking Jessica’s word for it.

‘I’m glad you stopped me in the city,’ Jessica said, as she started to rummage through her own selection of clothes.

Heather giggled slightly. ‘You’re the first person I’ve ever recruited. Most people don’t stop. They’re so rude but you get used to it. I think that’s why Zip
put you in a room with me.’

‘Did you have a roommate before?’

‘I was with one of the other girls but I think Zip sensed you might come, so I moved into here last night. That’s when I tidied everything up.’

‘How did you come here?’ Jessica asked as breezily as she could, head still in the wardrobe, skimming hangers from one side to the other.

At first there was a silence but then came the slow reply. ‘I had a big falling out with my dad about an old boyfriend. Things got a bit out of hand and then I fell out with my boyfriend
too. In the end I was left with neither of them.’

Jessica pulled out the dress that Heather had made and took it off the hanger, still not turning around. ‘But your father must care for you if he comes all the way into the city to talk to
you?’

Slipping off her clothes, Jessica stood in her underwear, exposed and vulnerable when Heather replied with the worst thing she could have said. ‘I could turn it around onto you. If
I’m trying to get away from my father and ex-boyfriend, then who are you escaping from?’

Jessica turned to face Heather, who was staring at her calmly but defiantly.

She had a point.

If Jessica was going to go around asking such personal questions, she would have to expect them herself. Opening up to Zipporah on the street was necessary – her only way in. Exposing her
darkest secrets to someone who had barely been born when Jessica was leaving school felt more personal. She would happily confide in one of her colleagues. DC Izzy Diamond was a little younger than
Jessica but married with a child. She felt older, more mature; Heather was still a child in comparison – even if her question was perfectly reasonable.

Jessica licked her lips, wondering what she should say. Could Heather ever understand the things that had happened to her since her father collapsed? The girl was in her early twenties but
Zipporah had hinted that she had been through a lot herself.

Before Jessica could say anything, a loud siren sound blared through the building. Heather’s eyes shot towards the ceiling. ‘It’s dinner time,’ she said, turning around
and asking Jessica to zip her up.

Jessica put the cream dress on, much to the approval of her roommate, who squealed in delight. ‘It’s perfect on you,’ she added. Although she might not have gone for the
colour, Jessica had to admit that it clung to her in all the right places.

Heather practically skipped down the staircase, a giddy schoolkid in the ultimate playhouse. Jessica could hear a general bustle around the hallways as people she vaguely recognised from earlier
poured out of the nearby bedrooms, dressed in smart trousers, shirts and dresses. Everyone moved downstairs without fuss, following Heather to what Jessica had earlier been told was the work
hall.