The Lost Girl (Brennan and Esposito) (4 page)

‘I
presume I should go over there,’ said Phil. ‘Back to Colchester and see what’s happening. Someone’s clearly trying to get my attention.’

‘It’s not safe,’ said Marina, an edge of hysteria creeping into her voice.

Phil looked at her. He knew why she was so upset. Shared her misgivings.

‘Look,’ she went on, ‘we know these deaths are no coincidence. And let’s be honest, we know who’s behind this.’

‘Marina, we don’t —’

‘Yes, we do, Phil. You might not want to admit it, but you do. You know as well as I do.’

They stared at each other. Cotter broke the silence.

‘I take it you mean this is the work of the woman calling herself Fiona Welch?’

‘Who else?’ said Marina, pleased that the name, the supposition, was out in the open, hoping that by speaking it aloud it would be robbed of its power. ‘It’s her. It has to be. She’s…’

‘Insane?’ suggested Cotter.

‘I don’t know what she is, or what she wants. But she made it more than clear last time we met her that she was going to come back for Phil. And this seems like her way of getting his attention.’

‘Well it’s worked,’ said Phil. ‘Whoever it is.’

‘Let’s hope it is her,’ said Cotter.

They both looked at her.

‘We don’t want another one as mad as her running around now, do we?’

‘True,’ said Phil, with some reluctance. ‘And if it is her, that’s all the more reason I should go. Get it over with. Find her, stop her. Get rid of her once and for all.’

‘But she’s dangerous,’ said Marina. ‘Really dangerous.’

‘And that’s my job.’

Marina shook her head. Stood up, walked about the room. She stopped, turned to face Phil. Spoke to him as if Cotter wasn’t there. ‘You can’t go.’

‘You see those bodies?’ Phil gestured to the board. ‘The names? I think I have to.’

‘It’s a trap. She’s waiting for you. Trying to get your attention, trying to get you to…’

Phil crossed to her, placed his hands on her shoulders. She shook him off.

‘Don’t go. She’s waiting for you. Anticipating you coming. If this is what she’s done to get your attention, what’s she going to do once you’re over there? No. It’s not safe.’

‘Nothing’s safe. Life isn’t safe. Come on, we’ve discussed this. We can’t live our lives in the shadows. We’ve got to stand up, confront her. Get it over with.’

Marina stared at him, said nothing. He continued.

‘Look, I know. I’ve thought all this myself, as soon as I heard about it I knew who it would be. And you’re right. She’s dangerous. And this is just what she wants me to do. But I have to do it. And you know it. I think you know it.’

Again, she said nothing.

‘I can’t just ignore it, can I? We can’t ignore it. None of us in this room. What would happen if we did that? Would she keep trying to get my attention, do something more in retaliation? Something even worse?’

‘What would be worse?’

‘I don’t know. How many more lives would she take just to get my attention? What could she do to them? Don’t know. Don’t want to think about it. And I certainly don’t want to find out.’

Marina stared at him. She knew he was right, no matter how much she didn’t want to hear him say it. And deep down, she knew she agreed with him.

‘Well,’ she said, the words drawn from her with great reluctance, ‘if you have to go, then at least let me come with you.’

‘No,’ said Cotter stepping in, ‘I can’t allow that. I know you’ve become a very valuable part of our team but you’re still a civilian.’

‘Then I could just go with him. There’s nothing to stop me from accompanying my husband on a trip to where we used to live.’

‘No there’s not,’ said Cotter. ‘But the police at the other end would have orders not to involve you. I’m afraid you’d find yourself incapacitated there.’

Marina’s expression was incredulous. ‘You mean under guard?’

‘Not exactly.’

‘Not
exactly
?’ Her voice was getting louder. ‘What
exactly
do you mean, then?’

‘Marina, please,’ said Phil. ‘I know it’s difficult. But… please.’

‘You’ll need a psychologist. You’ll need me.’

‘I don’t even know if they’ll need me, Marina. I’m just going to advise. You know I won’t be able to get involved. Not directly. That’s my name on the bodies. I’m too personally involved already.’

Marina fell into a sullen silence once more.

‘Please,’ said Phil, his voice low, his tone conciliatory, ‘Josephina needs at least one of us to stay with her. And it won’t be for long. At least I don’t think so. I’ll just go over there, see for myself what’s happened, give them as much help and information as I possibly can and then come back. That’s all I can do. The rest is up to them. Let Franks and his team deal with it.’

Gary Franks was Cotter’s opposite number in Colchester.

Marina, reluctantly, nodded.

‘You’ll be given round-the-clock protection,’ said Cotter to Marina. ‘You and your daughter. Ring of steel. Nothing will get through.’

Marina nodded once more, not making eye contact with either of them.

‘I’ve spoken to Franks,’ said Cotter, ‘and he said he’ll send over someone to escort you there.’

‘I know the way to Colchester.’

‘I’m sure you do, but this officer is firearms trained and is to be your bodyguard. Just as a precaution. You’ll be perfectly safe.’

Phil said nothing.

Marina gave one more try. ‘What d’you hope to achieve by this? It’s a trap. You know it is. She’s targeting you for a reason.’

‘Yeah, I’m sure she is. And I’m sure that’s what she intends. But as long as I’m there and protected, I’m in a good place to find out what she wants, what’s going on. And the sooner we know that, the sooner we catch her.’

‘And the sooner we can all relax,’ said Cotter.

‘Exactly.’

Marina said nothing.

J
osephina Brennan couldn’t have been happier. She sat with her parents, surveyed the bowls of food before her. There was barely a centimetre of the table uncovered. She smiled, looked up at them.

‘Did I tell you this is my favourite place?’

‘Only about a hundred times,’ said Phil, smiling. ‘Today.’

It was a treat. They had picked her up from school, brought her down to the Las Iguanas restaurant at the Arcadian. The lighting was dim in the chain restaurant, with palm trees and faux, unspecific South American tiki décor. Josephina loved the place. It was a glimpse of a different, exciting world, miles away from her own home and school and playing with friends. And she loved the food. Especially the tapas menu.

Quesadillas,
gambas
and
champiñones
.
Pata taquito
and
albondigas
. Plus empanadas, crayfish salad and beer for the grown-ups. Nachos to share.

‘Can I start?’ she asked, barely able to restrain herself.

‘Go on,’ said Marina. ‘But don’t forget your manners. We’re in a restaurant. There are other people here.’

Josephina rolled her eyes, hoping her mother wouldn’t see. Phil tried to stifle a grin. Couldn’t begin to explain, even to himself, just how much this seven-year-old girl meant to him. Josephina began eating. Phil’s grin faded to sadness. Like he had already gone and this dinner just a memory.

He looked up. Marina was watching him. She raised her eyebrows.

‘Sorry,’ he said quietly, shaking his head.

Marina said nothing. She felt the tension coming off him. Shared it herself. Knew what he was about to say, dreaded it as much as him.

He waited until Josephina was well into the meal before speaking. Let her have a brief bit of pleasure first, he thought.

‘Listen, Josie, I’ve got something to tell you.’

Josephina looked up, eyes round, expectant. Trusting. The look of creeping apprehension on Phil’s face began to remove the trust from hers.

‘It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘It’s just… I’ve got to go away. Only for a couple of days, though.’

Josephina stopped eating. She looked between her parents, trying to find some kind of clue as to what was about to happen next.

A parent going away, even for a couple of days, shouldn’t be a big deal for a child. But given all the things that Phil, Marina and Josephina had been through over the years, the suffering they had undergone both separately and as a family, every item of news such as this had to be carefully couched, sensitively explained. Even though past memories were receding, Josephina still had nightmares about ordeals she had been through. Growing more sporadic but still there. They couldn’t afford to do or say anything to her that would upset her too much. Especially now that she was at an age where she could understand the truth. Or most of it. She still had to be protected, brought up as safely as possible.

‘Is it…’ said Josephina, eyes still darting between one parent to the other, ‘is it like before?’

‘Before?’ asked Marina.

Josephina nodded. ‘When I had to go and live in the flat with Mummy and not see you,’ she said, uncertain eyes settling on Phil. ‘When you wouldn’t speak to each other?’

‘It wasn’t like that,’ said Marina, her voice as soothing as possible.

‘Yes it was,’ said Josephina. ‘You know it was.’

‘It was… difficult,’ said Marina. ‘But we never stopped loving each other. You knew that. I told you that.’

Josephina still didn’t look convinced. Before she could answer, Phil spoke.

‘Mum’s right,’ he said. ‘This is different. Not like the last time.’

He could barely look at her as he spoke. Their separation had been through Marina’s fear of what the woman calling herself Fiona Welch could do to them. The punitive action she might take against them. Against their daughter. She hadn’t believed Phil – or his department – could adequately protect them as a family. So she had taken Josephina away. And now this. He had to make his daughter understand the truth of the situation, but only as it concerned her. Namely, that he was coming back.

‘No,’ he said, as emphatically as he could, ‘nothing like that at all. This is just a work thing. That’s all. Just a couple of days. Get it sorted out, and then I’m back.’

Josephina stared at him. ‘Promise?’ Part of her wanted to believe in her father’s words. Another part of her didn’t dare to.

‘Promise. Just a couple of days for work. That’s all.’

Marina smiled. ‘We just wanted to tell you so you wouldn’t get worried tomorrow. Get home from school and Daddy’s not there.’

Josephina looked between the pair of them once more. Then down at her food. ‘You’re definitely coming back?’ she said once more.

Phil found a smile. ‘Definitely.’ He leaned forward. ‘You think I want to be without you?’

Josephina smiled.

‘Good,’ said Phil, still smiling but out of relief now. ‘Right, then. What shall we do after this? Who wants to go to the cinema?’

Josephina put her hand up.

Phil kept smiling. He couldn’t look at Marina. Just had to keep staring straight ahead.

‘D
etective Inspector Brennan?’

Phil opened the front door to his house, looked at the man in front of him. Well over six foot and solid with it. A rugby player’s frame that his suit was barely able to contain. His flattened and reset nose seemed to back that initial impression. Hair cut close to his scalp, heavy boots.

‘That’s me,’ said Phil.

The man stretched out a hand, all muscle and meat. ‘Detective Sergeant Beresford, sir. DCI Franks sent me. I’m your lift to Colchester.’

Phil shook it. Powerful, and Beresford knew it. No crushing finger games. Not needed. Phil would have hated to be on the receiving end of it. He almost smiled. Franks wasn’t joking when he said he’d send him a bodyguard. ‘Of course you are.’

‘D’you need to get anything?’ asked Beresford, pointing back towards the door.

‘Yeah, give me a minute. You want to come in?’

‘I’ll just stay here, sir, if it’s all the same to you.’

Barrel of laughs, thought Phil. The drive to Colchester’s going to fly by.

Phil went back into the house. Marina was at work, Josephina at school. He had filled a holdall with enough stuff to last two or three days. He didn’t think that the investigation would be wrapped up in that time, but he didn’t intend to be there longer than that. At least not initially. He had made a promise to Marina on waking and he intended to keep it.

‘I’ll be back as soon as I can. I won’t stay there longer than I have to.’

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

‘I know you,’ she had said, a resigned smile on her face. ‘You’ll get drawn into the investigation. You won’t be able to help yourself but you will.’

‘I won’t. I promise. Franks can sort it out. I’ll give them what I can then come straight back.’

They had held each other longer than they had for ages after that.

He grabbed his bag, slung it over his shoulder. Took a last look round at his home, went out, locking the door behind him.

A big, heavy Vauxhall was parked in the street. An Insignia. Silver and powerful-looking, it screamed unmarked police car. Before they reached it, Phil stopped, put his hand on Beresford’s arm. Beresford stopped moving, looked at him.

‘Before we go any further, could I see some ID?’

‘Sure,’ said Beresford, putting his hand into his pocket. He drew out a warrant card, handed it over. Phil took it, examined it, turning it over in his hands. He knew the things to look out for, how to spot a fake. But this wasn’t it. This was genuine. He handed it back.

‘Can’t be too careful,’ he said.

‘I’d have been disappointed if you hadn’t asked to see it, sir.’

‘Quite right.’

Beresford took the holdall from Phil, swung it into the boot of the car. Straightened up, looked at Phil. Quizzical.

‘Something wrong, DS Beresford?’

‘Well, it’s probably not my place to say it, sir, but DCI Franks wanted you to go straight to the station.’

‘And that’s where we’re going, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, sir, but…’

‘But what?’

‘I just assumed from your clothes that… I mean we just won’t have time to go to your hotel first for you to change. DCI Franks likes his officers to be suited at all times.’

Phil smiled. ‘I’m sure DCI Franks has seen a man in a pair of jeans before. He’ll get over it. Let’s go.’

Beresford didn’t reply. They drove away.

Out of Birmingham city centre, onto the M6. Then from there, the M1 to the A14, the wide featureless expanse of motorway giving way to something more scenic. Or it would have been had the road not been shrouded in fog and drizzle. Beresford all the while driving cautiously but not timidly. With restrained power. Like there were several more gears he could step up through if needed.

Phil’s initial thoughts had been proved right. Beresford wasn’t one for conversation. The radio had been playing when he’d started the car but he’d turned it off immediately. Some right-wing phone-in host berating his callers.

‘You can keep it on if you like,’ Phil said. ‘I don’t mind.’

‘Better not, sir.’

And that had been that. Phil wished he had insisted on taking his own car. At least that way he could have played music as they drove. His own choice of music. God only knew what Beresford would have listened to.

Phil took out his mobile, texted Marina.

Pressed Send, put it away again.

On the A14 Phil tried to talk once more.

‘How’s the investigation going, then? Into the three dead men?’

Beresford frowned, as if he didn’t know whether he should answer. Or indeed which answer to give. ‘It’s progressing, sir.’

Phil gave a small laugh. ‘You’re exploring several avenues and examining every lead, right?’ He shook his head. ‘Come on, DS Beresford, I’m not a punter. I’m just asking how it’s going.’

Beresford thought for a while before answering. He gave a quick, unreadable glance towards Phil then turned back to the wheel, keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead. ‘It’s… we don’t have many leads as yet.’

‘Have you identified the victims?’

‘Not yet. It’s proving difficult. We’ve contacted MisPers, sent out descriptions. No matches yet.’

‘PMs? Forensics?’

‘Lots of alcohol in their bloodstreams, it looks like. The one thing they all had in common. Some evidence of drug use. They’re still looking to see how much and how long ago that was.’

‘And no one saw anything.’ A statement not a question.

‘Only the people who found the bodies. We checked their backgrounds out. Nothing to link them to each other, nothing in their backgrounds to link them to the victims.’

‘So far as you know.’

‘Yes, sir. But we’ve shown them pictures of all three victims. None of them know any of them.’

Information given, Beresford fell silent once more.

Phil settled back in his seat. Wondered what exactly he could add to the investigation.

It was going to be a long journey.