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so that my toes were already numb. The cigarette was doing me no favours, so I stubbed it out when it was half smoked, carried the butt back into the car with me and saw Woodley’s nose wrinkle when I stuffed it into the ashtray. I felt a curl of nausea in my gut and I rubbed my eyes hard and Woodley said, ‘Are you all right, boss?’ ‘Yeah. Why do you ask?’ He went silent, small shake of his head. He looked nervous. He had his phone in his hand and he started to polish the screen with his sleeve. I felt like I should give him some sort of advice, but it was difficult to think what to say. ‘It’s not a normal life this, having this job. You’re outside society.’ I wasn’t saying it well. I wanted him to understand what I meant, but he wasn’t looking at me, and the motion of his hand polishing the phone continued, round and round. ‘Some cases make you grow up fast.’ As soon as I said it, I thought it sounded patronising, but he didn’t seem to care. ‘Have you ever worked on something that’s remained unsolved?’ he asked me. ‘This case will be solved,’ I said. ‘We’re close now. I swear it.’ ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I just wondered.’ I thought about it. There were always things that you never got to the bottom of in cases. A dog walker who was never identified, a random white car supposed to have been at a scene, which nobody ever confessed to driving past. That was normal, though sometimes it drove police officers mad, seeking answers that they never got. They couldn’t let it go. I’d seen that happen once or twice, but I’d never worked on anything where we hadn’t got our perpetrator, and I didn’t want this to be the one. Not with a young boy’s life in the balance. Not with the worst of crimes a possibility. ‘Not yet,’ I said. ‘Do you think she’ll cough?’ Woodley asked. ‘A woman like Nicola Forbes won’t hand us a confession on a plate. We’ve got our work cut out.’ We moved on cautiously through the mist and found the cottage half a mile further along the lane. Above us you could sense the weight of huge trees looming, although only their lower branches were visible as suggestions of their might. We parked beside a red Volkswagen Golf in front of a wooden fence that was warped and green grey with lichen. I knew from the car’s registration that it belonged to Nicky Forbes. We approached the cottage through a white wooden gate, and up a short garden path paved in uneven stone. Wet leaves were banked against the threshold and the path was lined with rose bushes, pruned back to their bare bones. The cottage was pretty, cream painted with a silvery thatched roof and small windows set into thick walls. It wasn’t a large place. I guessed it had maybe three bedrooms, one bathroom. Some of the curtains were drawn upstairs, but through a window beside the door I could see into a compact sitting room. The furnishings were plain and tidy. There were books lining the walls and an open fireplace. Yesterday’s papers were open on the coffee table. As far as I could see, there were no outbuildings at all, but with the mist reducing visibility severely, it was hard to tell. I pulled hard on the doorbell and we heard it clanging inside.
RACHEL Miss May peered out of the car window at a house with a glossy black door. ‘This is it. Perfect. Thank you,’ she said. ‘Thank you for helping us with our inquiries,’ Bennett said. ‘It was the least I could do.’ She got out, taking a moment to straighten her coat. Her bag was still on the seat beside me. I could see her keys, but before I could move she leaned down and peered into the back of the car. ‘If there’s anything I can do for you. Truly. Please let me know.’ ‘Thank you,’ I said. A car had pulled up behind ours, and the driver sounded the horn sharply, wanting us to move on. ‘They’d better mind their manners,’ said DI Bennett. I could see his narrowed eyes in the rear-view mirror, watching the car behind. I had one chance. Miss May reached for her bag but before she could get to it I picked it up. ‘Here you go,’ I said. I held it out to her, but as I did so I let it tilt and then fall, so that its contents tipped out onto my lap, and down into the footwells. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ I said. I leaned down and scooped up her belongings from the dark recesses, blocking her view. I stuffed most of them back into her bag. Half-eaten granola bar, purse, phone, charger, tissues, packet of painkillers, document wallet. The keys I kept for myself. I slid them between the seat and my thigh. Behind us, the car horn sounded again. ‘Come on, ladies,’ said DI Bennett. I handed the bag back to her, careful to hold it by the top, so that it didn’t gape. ‘It’s all there,’ I said. ‘Are you sure?’ she asked. The car behind flashed its headlights. ‘All there,’ I said. ‘Bye.’ ‘Take care,’ she said, and shut the car door. DI Bennett accelerated away. In the side mirror, I could see her standing on the side of the road. Her keys were digging into the underside of my thigh and I moved them into my coat pocket, careful not to let them make a sound. It was a ten-minute drive from Clifton Village to my house. We drove along the edge of the Downs, flat, muddy and green, dog walkers and joggers ploughing around its perimeters, trees dotted across the parkland like abandoned livestock, water tower looming. I listened closely to the police radio. I was terrified that Miss May would contact the police as soon as she tried to get into her house and realised the keys weren’t in her bag. She’d ask for DI Bennett to drive straight back there. I wished I’d taken her phone too. We skirted around the edge of suburbia, 1930s semis mostly, John and Katrina’s house just round the corner. A few minutes to my place. The radio was spitting out little bits of noise. Nothing about the keys so far, but panic was making me swallow, my mouth awash with warm saliva, which had a bitter, tannic edge from the police station tea. ‘DI Bennett,’ I said. ‘What’s up, love?’
- Page 248 and 249: Another page. A different drawing:
- Page 250 and 251: ‘The blog.’ I was slow; I didn
- Page 252 and 253: told him to fuck off. ‘Tell Frase
- Page 254 and 255: ‘Stop asking me to be patient. Ho
- Page 256 and 257: JIM In the incident room the blinds
- Page 258 and 259: swing. ‘So what are we thinking?
- Page 260 and 261: ‘She’s drunk?’ I asked when h
- Page 262 and 263: JIM Addendum to DI James Clemo’s
- Page 264 and 265: JC: Fine. He coaxes his lips up int
- Page 266 and 267: JIM It was Emma who I thought of al
- Page 268 and 269: DAY 8 SUNDAY, 28 OCTOBER 2012 The P
- Page 270 and 271: RACHEL When dawn came there was no
- Page 272 and 273: JIM Nine o’clock Sunday morning,
- Page 274 and 275: RACHEL The hospital receptionist se
- Page 276 and 277: JIM Addendum to DI James Clemo’s
- Page 278 and 279: RACHEL My cab driver on the way hom
- Page 280 and 281: tall bear of a man, with very dark
- Page 282 and 283: ‘To be honest, I assumed Nicky wo
- Page 284 and 285: He actually put his hand over his h
- Page 286 and 287: ‘Cool,’ my avatar said. ‘New
- Page 288 and 289: me wants you here to run the invest
- Page 290 and 291: I behaved in an arrogant and disgus
- Page 292 and 293: RACHEL I logged on to Furry Footbal
- Page 294 and 295: ‘I know it was him,’ I said. Th
- Page 296 and 297: Her handbag was on the seat between
- Page 300 and 301: ‘It’s what Miss May said, about
- Page 302 and 303: He sat back down. ‘Again,’ he s
- Page 304 and 305: JIM Nicky Forbes was disturbed by m
- Page 306 and 307: RACHEL It took me twenty-five minut
- Page 308 and 309: here. And then I saw something else
- Page 310 and 311: JIM Nicky Forbes’s expression was
- Page 312 and 313: RACHEL They prised me up off the ca
- Page 314 and 315: Operator: OK. They’re a few minut
- Page 316 and 317: RECORD OF EVIDENCE: AVON AND SOMERS
- Page 318 and 319: RACHEL Bristol Children’s Hospita
- Page 320 and 321: ‘Is the child all right?’ Mrs M
- Page 322 and 323: RACHEL I approached my son’s beds
- Page 324 and 325: EPILOGUE CHRISTMAS 2013 - ONE YEAR,
- Page 326 and 327: RACHEL A few weeks ago, somebody as
- Page 328 and 329: that he loved so much in return. Th
- Page 330 and 331: JIM Addendum to DI James Clemo’s
- Page 332 and 333: JC: Yes. FM: Have you seen her sinc
- Page 334 and 335: RACHEL We might never have closure,
- Page 336 and 337: us that. He came to our house and w
- Page 338: BIBLIOGRAPHY The following websites
RACHEL<br />
Miss May peered out of the car window at a house with a glossy black door.<br />
‘This is it. Perfect. Thank you,’ she said.<br />
‘Thank you for helping us with our inquiries,’ Bennett said.<br />
‘It was the least I could do.’<br />
She got out, taking a moment to straighten her coat. Her bag was still on the seat beside me. I could<br />
see her keys, but before I could move she leaned down and peered into the back of the car.<br />
‘If there’s anything I can do for you. Truly. Please let me know.’<br />
‘Thank you,’ I said.<br />
A car had pulled up behind ours, and the driver sounded the horn sharply, wanting us to move on.<br />
‘They’d better mind their manners,’ said DI Bennett. I could see his narrowed eyes in the rear-view<br />
mirror, watching the car behind.<br />
I had one chance. Miss May reached for her bag but before she could get to it I picked it up.<br />
‘Here you go,’ I said. I held it out to her, but as I did so I let it tilt and then fall, so that its contents<br />
tipped out onto my lap, and down into the footwells.<br />
‘Oh, I’m so sorry!’ I said.<br />
I leaned down and scooped up her belongings from the dark recesses, blocking her view. I stuffed<br />
most of them back into her bag. Half-eaten granola bar, purse, phone, charger, tissues, packet of<br />
painkillers, document wallet.<br />
The keys I kept for myself. I slid them between the seat and my thigh.<br />
Behind us, the car horn sounded again.<br />
‘Come on, ladies,’ said DI Bennett.<br />
I handed the bag back to her, careful to hold it by the top, so that it didn’t gape.<br />
‘It’s all there,’ I said.<br />
‘Are you sure?’ she asked.<br />
The car behind flashed its headlights.<br />
‘All there,’ I said. ‘Bye.’<br />
‘Take care,’ she said, and shut the car door.<br />
DI Bennett accelerated away. In the side mirror, I could see her standing on the side of the road.<br />
Her keys were digging into the underside of my thigh and I moved them into my coat pocket, careful<br />
not to let them make a sound.<br />
It was a ten-minute drive from Clifton Village to my house. We drove along the edge of the Downs,<br />
flat, muddy and green, dog walkers and joggers ploughing around its perimeters, trees dotted across<br />
the parkland like abandoned livestock, water tower looming.<br />
I listened closely to the police radio. I was terrified that Miss May would contact the police as<br />
soon as she tried to get into her house and realised the keys weren’t in her bag. She’d ask for DI<br />
Bennett to drive straight back there. I wished I’d taken her phone too.<br />
We skirted around the edge of suburbia, 1930s semis mostly, John and Katrina’s house just round<br />
the corner. A few minutes to my place. The radio was spitting out little bits of noise. Nothing about<br />
the keys so far, but panic was making me swallow, my mouth awash with warm saliva, which had a<br />
bitter, tannic edge from the police station tea.<br />
‘DI Bennett,’ I said.<br />
‘What’s up, love?’