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Trust Me
Trust Me
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Trust Me

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Nasreen replaced the lid on her own reusable coffee cup. ‘I was working on the case.’ She pulled the files she’d had at home from her bag. ‘The guy calling himself Corey Banks on Amber’s page is better known as Alexander Riley, or Lex Riley as he’s known on the street.’ She passed Freddie the printout of Lex she’d made from the Police National Computer.

Freddie read it and blew air out through her lips. ‘He’s a known gang member?’ She dropped her own rucksack behind her.

‘Yes. The Dogberry Boys.’ Just thinking about it made her feel a bit sick. Amber was fifteen when they were talking online. When she described him as her boyfriend.

‘Didn’t Paul Robertson go down for killing one of their members?’ Freddie asked.

‘Yes. They’re rivals.’ She watched the colour drain from Freddie’s face. ‘They’ve been in an escalating turf war for the last few years.’ It didn’t bear thinking about. But they had to.

‘Why’d he change his name?’

‘Presumably because Amber or her father would have recognised it,’ Nasreen said.

‘But he was dating the daughter of one of the Rodriguezes’ head guys… Shit.’ Freddie shook her head in disbelief. ‘So, what, he was trying to get into her life undercover?’

Nasreen nodded. ‘What if we weren’t the first ones to think that Amber was a good way to get to Paul Robertson?’

Freddie sat down heavily. She was staring at the printout in her hand, her face echoing Nasreen’s yesterday when she’d recognised him. A look of shock. Lex Riley’s sneering mugshot leered from the top corner. ‘He made first contact,’ Freddie said. ‘I’ve seen the message on her Facebook page. He approached her.’ It all fitted. ‘He set her up? Catfished her?’

Nasreen’s stomach tightened. A fifteen-year-old child. ‘It looks like it.’

‘We could have this all wrong: she might not be on the run with her dad. You think Lex Riley could’ve got to her?’ Freddie looked at her imploringly.

She wished she could dismiss her fears, but sleeping on it hadn’t helped. Lex Riley wouldn’t waste his time stringing Amber Robertson along for a laugh. He was the cousin of Jay Trap, the head of the family that had dominated the Dogberry Boys for the last two decades. He wasn’t some bit-part player. He’d been implicated in a stabbing on the Dogberry estate. The case had collapsed before it made it to court, when the key witness backed out of testifying. Nasreen had read that the witness’s pet dog had been found skinned outside her house. Alive, just. There’d been a note pinned to the poor animal: your children are next. You didn’t mess with these people. Lex could have only been interested in Amber for one reason: because of her father. This was a gender-flipped honey trap. ‘We need to find out everything we can about Lex Riley. Can you look at any intelligence reports we have on him?’

Freddie nodded. ‘I should get Amber’s telephone records today with a bit of luck – I’ll see if I can trace contact between the two of them.’ Grimacing, she took the papers back to her desk.

What had happened to Amber? Images of a skinned dog formed in Nasreen’s mind. She picked up a cold half-drunk tea someone had abandoned on her desk. Clear desk, clear mind. She was halfway between the office and the staff room when she heard Saunders’s voice behind her.

‘Skiving off already, Cudmore?’

His petty mind games were particularly pathetic when contrasted to her growing fears about Amber. But she didn’t have enough to bring it to his attention yet: it was just a theory. They needed to compile more evidence. She smiled, determined not to let him get to her. ‘Just tidying up.’

‘That’s my mug,’ he said with a grin. ‘Ta for cleaning it for me.’

‘I’m just taking it to the kitchen.’ Being a skivvy for her Inspector wasn’t part of her job description.

‘Won’t take you long to run it under the tap.’ He turned into the office, calling: ‘Make sure you get all the tea stains off. And I’ll have a fresh one while you’re there, Sergeant.’

Blooming cheek! She crossly shook the cup upside down over the sink in the slender kitchen and flicked the kettle on. And yet you’re still doing it, Nasreen? Get a grip. As a small rebellion, she didn’t rinse the cup before she dropped in a fresh bag on top of the cold tea. Saunders was training to swim the channel, and his nutrition plan didn’t allow sugar, so she added three teaspoons. The water boiled like her resentment.

She marched out of the kitchen in a rage, and slammed straight into Burgone. She swerved, trying to save his tailored suit from the hot tea. He jumped backwards.

‘Whoa!’

Boiling liquid sloshed over her thumb. ‘Ow!’ She swapped hands, shook it off and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

‘Are you all right?’ Burgone’s blue eyes looked at her with concern. He stepped towards her and reached for the hand that she was still sucking. Suddenly she felt absurdly sexual, and she let her fingers drop. He caught hold of them and gently turned her hand over in his. Running his piano-player touch lightly over the damaged skin. Every cell in her body felt primed. She daren’t speak. ‘We need to get this under the cold tap.’

She nodded dumbly as he took Saunders’s mug from her and led her to the sink. He turned on the tap, before tenderly holding her hand towards the water. The shock of the cold brought her to her senses.

‘It’s fine,’ she said, shaking him off, wincing as the water splashed onto his shirt, turning the white fabric transparent. It clung to his toned abs. She tried not to stare. ‘Sorry. I’m being stupidly clumsy.’ She tried to laugh.

‘Do we need to get the first-aid box?’ he asked, inspecting the burn. She wished he’d look away. Leave. She was surprised the water didn’t hiss into steam when it touched her skin: she felt hot with shame.

‘No, no, it’s fine. Honestly,’ she said.

He picked up the mug again and gave it a quizzical glance. ‘I thought you only drank herbal tea?’

He remembered!Get a grip, Nasreen. ‘It’s for DI Saunders.’

‘He’s got you making tea for him?’

She panicked. She didn’t want to seem like a grass. Or a whinger. ‘I was going to the kitchen anyway.’ To take back his cup.

His face relaxed into a glorious smile. ‘I’m so pleased you two are starting to bond.’

Was he? Had she been wrong? Did he really care what had happened to her since their one-night stand? ‘I wouldn’t say we’re bonding, exactly. More that he’s acknowledging my existence.’ She was being inappropriate, but Burgone smiled.

‘He’s a good cop, you can learn a lot from him.’

She nodded: Saunders’s record spoke for itself. Though Lex Riley’s potential involvement with Amber might derail her chance to prove herself to him. If Lex Riley had got to Amber – got to Paul – then finding the girl might not lead to Robertson after all.


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