‘How the hell is my photo in my house territorial?’
Lenka sneered at her and turned back to the TV. The baby had stopped crying and was staring at her with big eyes.
‘Don’t turn away from me, Lenka…’
Lenka stayed with her back to Erika.
‘How much longer are you staying? Or is it all dependent on your stupid husband?’
‘At least I have my husband’s back…’
There was a horrible silence.
‘What did you just say?’
‘Erika, I didn’t mean that,’ said Lenka, her face dropping.
‘I want you, and the kids out by the time I get back tomorrow morning. You hear!’ Erika left the living room carrying the photo of Mark, grabbed her car keys and went out into the rain.
She started the engine and pulled away, unsure of where she was going to go.
47
Amanda Baker didn’t notice the rain pouring outside her window, and the thunder flashing as she worked at her computer.
She didn’t notice the car parked a few hundred yards along her street, the same car that had been watching her over the past few weeks.
She was filled with a feeling of youth, of being back on the case - she knew she wasn’t, but being able to access the files online and hearing updates from DI Crawford had made her feel like something was happening in her life again. Like she was a police officer.
Amanda had always enjoyed the research, solving puzzles and reading people. Without the pressure of answering to top brass, or even the pressure to leave her house she felt in control.
She’d re-read through the case files, checking through witness statements, and she was now watching Trevor Marksman’s video featuring Marianne and Laura Collins together in the park. She lifted her wine glass and saw that it was empty. She paused the image on the screen. It was the part where Marianne had just slapped Laura across the face. She heaved herself up and hurried through to the kitchen to get another glass of wine. When she opened the fridge she saw she’d drunk the last bottle of wine. She went to the small pantry and felt around in the Jacobs creek box, which had a hole in the top. It was empty. She searched through the boxes on the floor in the darkness and was horrified to see that she’d run out of wine. She pulled the door open, and using her smartphone as a light, she scanned the shelves looking for something to drink. She was sure she had a bottle of taboo or baileys, which she didn’t like, but it would have to do. The rain was lashing against the window and thunder was rumbling far off. She really didn’t fancy setting out in that kind of weather.
She dragged a chair from the kitchen table and kicked the wine boxed out of the cupboard, and stood on it, she scanned the shelves of tins, bags of old pasta, out of date stocks cubes, and her phone came to rest on a box behind a small pile of OXO cubes. It was a very old Terry’s Chocolate Orange. The small square box was covered in dust and she could see through the little plastic sphere that the chocolate inside had broken down and seeped through the foil. She didn’t notice this, because it was what was written on the box that made her stop in her tracks.
‘It’s not Terry’s, it’s mine.” She repeated, reading the old tagline. She stepped down off the chair and walked through to the living room holding the box. “It’s not Terry’s it’s mine.” She repeated, almost in a trance. She suddenly rushed back to the computer, all thought of a drink of wine had gone. She played back the video a couple of times.
She then reached for the phone and called DI Crawford.
‘I think I’ve worked it out,’ she said. ‘I need you to check something though…’
* * *
A hundred yards down the street, Gerry sat in his car listening to the conversation as it unfolded between Amanda Baker and DI Crawford. When it was over, he called his boss.
‘She knows. Amanda Baker knows. What should I do?’
‘Make it look like an accident.’
48
Peterson stood in the tiny kitchen of his flat, wearing only a tiny hand towel around his waist. His fridge was empty. All he had were a can of spaghetti hoops and some mouldy bread. This was the first night he’d been able to get home early in several weeks, and he had realised he needed to do his laundry, just as much as he needed to buy food.
His flat was a small ground floor rental in a decent area of Sydenham. His neighbours were mostly made up of office workers, who left early and arrived home late, and a couple of old ladies, who always became a little twinkly eyed when they saw him. They’d discovered he was a policeman a few weeks after he’d moved in, and they were comforted by the fact they had a man of the law in their midst, and as his mate Dwayne had remarked, she probably fancied him too.
As he sighed and closed the fridge, his buzzer went. He thought it might be the old lady in question. She had pushed a note through his front door about coming to a neighbourhood watch meeting.
However, when he opened the door, it was Erika stood dripping wet.
‘Boss, hi,’ he said. He turned and picked up the underwear and a t-shirt, which was on the floor by the bathroom door.
‘Sorry, have you got company?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m just a slob,’ he grinned standing and trying to untangle the t-shirt. Erika’s eyes flicked down to where a silver St Christopher necklace hung between his smooth pectorals, and the dusting of hair on his washboard stomach.
‘Sorry, I was just out of the shower,’ he said pulling on the white t-shirt and nearly losing the tiny towel in the process. ‘Come in.’
‘No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come,’ she said turning to leave.
‘Boss, you’re soaked and it’s freezing. Let me at least give you a towel… I’ve got another one,’ he added looking at the one wrapped around his waist.
He showed her through to the living room as he went off to the bedroom. She looked around and saw it was very much a bachelor pad. There was a huge TV on a low table with a PlayStation and two controllers hooked up to it. Two of the walls were lined with bookshelves and crammed with a mixture of books and DVD’s. The furniture was black leather, and on the wall was a Pirelli 2016 calendar, still showing October. Peterson came back in wearing a white t-shirt and a pair of loose tracksuit bottoms. He smelt delicious.
‘What’s with the calendar?’ asked Erika pointing to the black and white picture of Yoko Ono sat on a stool wearing tights a jacket and a top hat.
‘Yeah, my mates usually get me the Pirelli every year… This year it’s gone all arty and conceptual.’
‘No birds with their tits out,’ grinned Erika.
‘Sadly, no,’ he grinned. His eyes flicked down to the front of her blouse and followed his gaze, mortified to see that she was drenched and her bra was showing through.
‘Shit,’ she said lifting the towel to cover herself.
‘It’s cool,’ he said. ‘You want a t-shirt? I can stick your blouse on the radiator?’
He left and came back with a dry t-shirt and went through to the kitchen. She went to a corner and quickly changed. He returned with two small tumblers of whisky, as she was hanging her wet blouse over the small radiator under the window. Lightning flashed in the sky and the rain was blown in sheets against the window.
‘Here it will warm you up. It’s just a single so you won’t be over the limit,’ he said. She took a glass and they sipped. They came and sat down on the sofa.
‘Is everything okay with the case? I know it was a bit of a shit day,’ he said.
‘It’s fine, well not fine but…’
‘But?’
‘I don’t know why I’m here. I had a terrible argument with my sister.’
‘Sorry to hear that.’
‘Do I come across as a bitch?’
He blew out his cheeks, ‘well, you’ve got to head up a team of coppers, you’ve got to be tough.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I didn’t mean it like that, Boss.’
‘Don’t call me boss, call me…’
‘Mi
ss Ross,’ finished Peterson. They both burst out laughing, and then they smiled at each other. Erika looked down at her glass and when she looked up Peterson had moved closer he took the glass and placed it on the table in front. He leaned over and gently cupped her chin and kissed her. His lips were soft and warm and sensual, and there was just a light flicker of his tongue. He tasted of whisky and man, and she began to melt. Erika reached up and ran her hands down his firm muscular back, and hooked her fingers under his t-shirt. His skin was warm and smooth. His hands found their way under the t-shirt and his fingers moved slowly up to her bra strap. With a flick he’d opened her bra and it released her breasts. He moved his hand round and gently squeezed at her nipple. She moaned and lay back as he moved on top of her, their lips now pressed together.
Suddenly Mark’s face came rushing at her. An image so clear, and she cried out.
‘What? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?’ said Peterson, moving back. She stared into his beautiful brown eyes and burst into tears. She leapt up and made for his tiny bathroom and locked herself inside. She sat on the edge of the bath and cried, huge heaving sobs wracking her body. She hadn’t cried like this for so long and it felt good and bad at the same time. When her sobs had subsided, there was a soft knock at the door.
‘Boss, I mean, Erika. You okay? I’m sorry if I was out of order,’ came Peterson’s voice. Erika moved to the mirror and wiped her face then opened the door.
‘You didn’t do anything. It’s just hard to be a widow. Mark was my life, he was the live of my life and he’s gone. He’s never going to come back, and I spent everyday thinking about him… and it’s exhausting, grieving and living with this huge gap. I’m human and I’d love nothing more than to just… with you, but there’s guilt,’ she shrugged and wiped her eyes again.
‘Erika, we can just chill. Look, I can give you a minute, I’ll go and whack off to that picture of Yoko Ono…’
She looked up at him grinning. ‘Too early for a joke?’ he added.
‘No,’ she smiled. ‘A joke is what I need.’
She stood and looked at him leaning in the doorway with a smile. She stood and grabbed him and began to kiss him again. They moved off, him stumbling backwards, feeling their way together along the hallway, until they found the bedroom door and they collapsed onto the bed. And this time she didn’t let him stop.
49
Lenka lay awake in the darkness, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the rain pelting down outside. Eva clucked and snuffled in her sleep, and she reached out a hand to check she was okay, stroking her soft head and fine hair.
The argument she’d had with Erika played heavy on her mind. She waited up until well after midnight, sitting in the dark living room with the children sleeping, but Erika didn’t return. Just after midnight, she realised Erika had stormed out of the house without her phone when it had started to ring, but the battery had died mid-ring and she couldn’t find the charger.
She knew that Erika had a friend, who was a Forensic Pathologist, but she couldn’t remember his name, and she knew Mark’s dad was called Edward Foster, and that he lived near Manchester. She worried for her sister, worried what the future held for her on her own.
* * *
Erika lay with her head on Peterson’s chest and felt his warmth and listened to the calm rhythmic beating of his heart. He stirred and pulled her close to him with his strong forearm. She felt shock, shock and a mixture of excitement and guilt that they’d had sex. Twice. The first time had been intense and fast, and then almost straight away they’d done it again, slow and sensual. They’d fallen asleep soon afterwards, but she’d woken up an hour ago, and her mind had been whirring as she watched the digital clock in his bedroom. It was now 3.04 am. She snuggled into the crook of his arm, closed her eyes and willed herself to sleep.
* * *
Lenka rolled over in bed, picked up her phone from the bedside table, and saw it was 3.05 am. She flopped back and put her arm over her face. She froze as she heard a noise, like the cracking of plastic. It came again and then there was a clink, which sounded like a thin metal bar coming free and hitting the floor. She jumped out of bed and scanned the room, the vacuum cleaner lay in the corner, the pipe coiled round and the metal bar was detached. She grabbed it and ran through to the living room.
The patio door had been pushed open, and she could see where the plastic had been removed to force it open. The curtains flapped in the strong breeze rushing through the gap. She turned with the metal pipe over her shoulder looking around the dark room, and unbelievably, the children were still asleep under the blankets.
There was a faint creak and Lenka felt a pair of powerful hands encircle her neck. Without thinking she screamed and swung the metal pipe up and over her shoulder. There was a crack and a yell. The kids then woke up and started screaming and Lenka turned to see the large shape of a man coming at her. She swung brought the pipe up and hit him in the crotch, it wasn’t hard, but he groaned and it gave her enough time to really swing with some momentum and as he double over she brought it down with full force on his head. He fell to the floor and she brought it down again and again battering the man three times before he slumped forward and stopped moving.
Jakub and Karolina were now screaming and crying, and Lenka told them to go into the bathroom. Keeping her eye on the figure on the floor she grabbed the landline from its charger and followed, still holding the pipe.
‘Lock the door,’ she said to the children. She ran past and grabbed baby Eva. When she came out the man was still on the floor. She joined the kids in the bathroom and locked the door.
‘It’s okay,’ she said to them as they crouched like two little frightened animals in the bath. ‘Karolina, I need you to help me and take Eva,’ she said. The little girl gulped and took the baby who was sleeping through all of the drama.
Lenka stared down at the phone and realised she didn’t know any numbers, she didn’t know how to call the police. The only number she knew was for Marek.
She sat against the door and dialled her husband’s number in Slovakia.
‘Mummy, the lock doesn’t work,’ whispered Jakub, his face white and trembling. ‘Auntie Erika said it was broken…’
As the phone began to ring Lenka heard a squeaking sound, and looked up. The door handle above her head was turning, and she felt the door give behind her back.
50
When Erika woke the next morning, Peterson had rolled away from her and slept on his side with all the covers bunched up around his bare legs. She saw it was 6.01am. So many emotions washed over her; guilt that she enjoyed being with Peterson, and a deep sadness that she was further apart from Mark. The memory had retreated a little, dimmer and further in the past now she had this new experience with another man. Her heart sank when she knew she would have to see Peterson today at work, and the next day… She sat up and retrieved her clothes from the floor beside the bed, pulling on her underwear. Peterson rolled over as she pulled the curtain to one side. It was still dark outside.
‘Morning. Don’t you want to stay for breakfast?’
‘No. I should go,’ she said doing up her bra.
‘Come here.’
‘Why?’
He sat up, ‘what do you mean why? I want to kiss you.’
Erika went to his side of the bed and perched on the edge. He put his arm around her.
‘We need to put down some boundaries,’ she said.
‘There didn’t seem to be many last night.’
‘I’m serious. I’m your boss. It would be easier if we didn’t talk about this at work.’
‘Oh, I was going to stand up today and address the incident room and tell everyone how great you are in the sack…’
‘Peterson.’
‘You are great in the sack,’ he said with a wink. She looked at him. ‘I’m not going to say anything…’
‘Good.’
‘Do you want to do this again?’
‘I don’t know. No. Can we just
chalk it up to a great night?’
‘Chalk it up?’
Erika stood and fumbled around for her socks,
‘What do you want? A relationship? Because I am nowhere near wanting to do that.’
‘Fine,’ he said sitting up.
‘Fine. I’ll see you at work.’
‘Yes, boss,’ he said giving her a salute. He climbed past her out of bed and went to the bathroom shutting the door. She went to the living room and retrieved her blouse, and, leaving his t-shirt neatly folded, she let herself out of his flat.
51
Erika went to the drive through Mc Donald’s in Sydenham and ordered a sausage and egg mc muffin and a cup of coffee and ate it in her car. When she came to pay, she saw that she didn’t have her phone or wallet, and had used some spare change she kept for parking in her glove compartment.
Dawn was just breaking, cold and blue, as she pulled up at Manor Mount just after seven. Her heart began to hammer when she saw two police cars outside. She parked beside them on the gravel, and let herself in at the main entrance, feeling her heart face even faster when she saw her front door was open and a police officer was stationed outside. A tall figure in a blue forensics suit emerged carrying a long plastic evidence bag containing the pipe from her vacuum cleaner. Blood was crusted on the metal tubing and smeared over the plastic. In his other hand was one of her blood stained guest towels.
‘Sorry, who are you?’ asked the police officer. Putting out his hand to block her path. He was very young with a thin face and had a terrible razor rash.
‘This is my home. Where is my sister and her kids?’ she said feeling frantic and trying to move past him.
‘This is now a crime scene,’ he said pushing her back.
‘I’m a police officer… I haven’t got my ID…’ Moss appeared in the hallway dressed in blur scrubs. ‘Moss, what’s happening? Where is my sister and the three kids?’