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Claire knew that more than anyone.
A steeliness had returned to her voice. ‘I take it by you mentioning him, he’s been kicking off?’
‘He’s found a few things out about you from your reputation alone. He thinks you hate him.’
‘He’s close… Hate is such a terrible word. He knows where the door is and it’s open any time, day or night, if he wants to walk…’
Stefan nodded to himself, taking in her words. Then his eyes met hers. He saw the seriousness in her face.
‘I’m sure it’s nothing,’ he said. ‘Just wanted you to know he’s not happy.’
‘Boo-fucking-hoo.’ Stefan rolled his eyes and she leaned in closer to him. ‘I’m not going to apologise for who I am, Fletch. I have to be hard and when arrogant screw-ups like him are sent my way, they need to learn to toe the line.’
Stefan narrowed his eyes. ‘Screw-ups?’
She fell silent.
‘Is it something to do with why he was transferred? ’Cos you do realise not everybody is buying into the close-to-family excuse.’
She kept her face neutral.
Stefan shrugged. ‘People talk, that’s all I’m saying.’
‘It’s nothing, Fletch, forget I said anything.’ She felt the weight of his stare but avoided his eyes. ‘So,’ she said, trying to deflect attention away from Crest, ‘what happened to that girl you were dating? Doesn’t she like fireworks?’
Stefan grimaced. ‘Leigh couldn’t make it. I think she’s about to chuck me anyway.’
‘Really?’
Stefan gave a mock laugh. ‘Don’t pretend to care.’
‘You’re questioning my sincerity?’
‘Personally, I always thought that divorce of yours left you dead inside.’
She gave half a smile. ‘Touché, Stefan.’
‘Oh, first name for once. I’m flattered. Did I touch a nerve?’
‘Simon didn’t cut it enough as a husband to even come close to touching a nerve, Fletcher.’
Stefan glanced at her. ‘I heard DCI Forester is dating again.’
Claire raised an eyebrow and sniffed with indifference. ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip.’ She knew he was talking in jest and on the surface she grinned, but inside she felt a little sad.
Claire had been married to DCI Simon Forester for three years. He served at Welwyn Garden City police station, some eight miles from Haverbridge. They’d met at a charity ball, and after a brief engagement, they’d married too quickly without really knowing anything about each other.
The relationship had turned sour after the first year and the pressure of their jobs helped drive a wedge between them, and they became more friends than lovers.
When Claire had risked an affair with another man, they became even less than that and it was Claire who filed for divorce, and immediately reverted back to her maiden name.
Surprisingly, despite feeling little for Simon, she felt the twinge of jealousy. It wasn’t as if her love life was flourishing. Her dedication to her job didn’t allow much time for a personal life, but she hated the thought there could be anyone else in her ex’s life. Certainly not someone who could compare to her anyway.
As more fireworks erupted overhead, Claire pushed Stefan towards the edge of the lake, until they stood just feet from the edge of the frozen water.
He shoved the rest of his hotdog into his mouth and grinned. ‘You’re aware you’re supposed to be playing the part of the submissive Leigh, aren’t you?’
‘Submissive? You’re well shot of her, Fletch, by the sounds of it.’
‘When I spend my working days with you, I need dominant like a hole in the head.’
‘It’s less crowded here, stop moaning,’ Claire said. Then she saw Stefan’s eye was trained on something else off to their left.
‘You see that?’ he said.
CHAPTER 3 (#ulink_6f9a20b6-d432-590f-8897-df06482c0a06)
The group of teenage boys continued to shove each other, shouting and laughing, goading each other towards the lake’s frozen edge. One of them, Sean, who was much fatter than the rest, shoved his shoulder into his friend, Harry, with such brute force that the boy spilt his drink.
‘You fat fucker,’ Harry said, wiping the beer from his jeans.
‘Such a hard man,’ Sean jeered, the rest of the pack laughing and jumping around in a drunken mess. ‘Too scared to go on the ice.’
‘Don’t see you on it, you fat twat,’ Harry said, shoving his fist hard into an ample shoulder. Standing a good head taller than Harry, who was thin and wiry, Sean squared his large frame up to his opponent.
‘Twenty quid says you’re a fucking wimp.’ His voice was low and the alcohol seemed to roll off his tongue in an invisible boozy haze. Harry looked over Sean’s shoulder at their peers.
One boy was trying to chat to a group of young girls, who clearly weren’t interested. The rest were lighting up, drinking or pushing each other closer to the lake’s edge, laughing like a pack of hyenas.
Looking back into Sean’s eyes, Harry raised his chin. ‘Make it thirty. You’d better have the money.’
*
‘You see that?’ he said.
Claire followed Stefan’s gaze and sighed.
A boy, aged around thirteen, was walking on the ice, about twenty feet from the embankment. Even from this distance, they could see that the ice grew thin towards the middle of the lake.
Claire shook her head. ‘Why are kids so bloody stupid?’
Stefan sighed and dusted his hands free of crumbs. ‘Come on,’ he said, ‘we’d better break this up.’
*
Harry, the boy on the ice, barely registered any fear, even when the ice underneath his feet started to crack. He looked back to his friends on the bank and laughed.
Trying to play the hard man, he took another step towards the middle of the lake and slipped, crashing down on the ice with brute force.
He felt the cold seep through his clothes almost immediately. He looked towards the embankment and heard his friends shouting.
A sea of faces now watched him in horror, just as he heard a cracking sound underneath him.
Before he could think, the ice gave way and he sank into the freezing cold water.
His head disappeared under the ice.
He gasped involuntarily with shock, his mouth filling with water. He kicked his legs until his head broke the surface, spitting the water from his mouth, before he went under again.
On the embankment, Stefan had slowly begun to edge himself out onto the ice, trying to distribute his weight evenly, while Claire called for an ambulance.
Harry was growing tired, his body shutting down, but he still managed to grab hold of the edge of the ice, trying to haul his body from the water.
Stefan heard the ice creaking under his own weight. He paused, dropped slowly to his knees and straightened his body out along the ice and shuffled closer on his belly.
Harry’s head went under water again, and Stefan moved faster, putting the sound of the creaking ice to the back of his mind.
Underneath the water, Harry was losing the fight.
His body ached to shut down, as the cold tore through his flesh. He was holding his breath, lungs aching for air.
Then he felt something against his foot catch and drag him. He kicked out, his foot colliding against something solid.
He risked opening his eyes and peered down. The light from the fireworks overhead sent down little chinks of light that fractured in the water.
He saw a face, pale and ghost-like.
Instinct caught him.
He opened his mouth to scream, water flooding into his airways, as he stared down into dark dead eyes.
Scared, and knowing this would be his last effort, he mustered his last ounce of strength and kicked his legs hard.
On the surface, Stefan was shivering, his breath coming in short sharp bursts as he edged as close as he dared to the hole in the ice.
Harry’s head then broke the surface, his body propelling forward, landing with his arms outstretched, flailing for something to grasp on the slippery surface. He began to slip back down again, but Stefan grasped his wrist.
‘Kick with your legs!’ he shouted, reaching out his other hand to grip the boy’s right arm. Harry kicked again and again, and even when his body was out on the ice, clear of the water, he didn’t stop.
Stefan pulled him to the embankment.
‘I need blankets,’ Claire shouted out to the gathered crowd. ‘Coats, anything.’
A few men took theirs off and started to wrap them around Harry. He’d been in the water less than ninety seconds, but to Harry it had felt like hours of having needles pushed underneath his skin.
He coughed up some water when Claire sat him forward, and before she could speak, she heard his rasping voice from behind his chattering teeth.
‘B… b… body.’
Stefan looked confused and lowered his face to the boy’s eye level. ‘What did you say?’
Harry grabbed Claire’s hand and looked deep into her eyes.
‘Body… in the water… Dead. Body.’
Claire saw the fear in his eyes, just before they closed and he fell unconscious in her arms.
Four Days Earlier
1
November – 11:02 p.m.
‘It’s your time.’
He stood watching her from the street corner, icy rain soaking him to the bone. He could have gone back to his car, chosen another night, but no matter how hard reason pleaded with him, he couldn’t tear his eyes away.
Everything about her disgusted him. The way she walked, the way she dressed, the way she talked.
Everything.
To him, her whole life was just a game determined by how much someone was willing to pay for her. The fact she was now with child complicated things, but also gave further justification to carry out what he’d planned for her.
Nola Grant stood at the side of the road. Her lanky, painfully thin frame cut a sombre stance under the street lamp. The fluorescent light cast shadows across her face but strangers could still see her wide-eyed vacant stare. She was tall and her bones jutted out at sharp angles, which were further exaggerated by her tight-fitting clothes.
She wore a low-rise, sleeveless top, no coat despite the cold, flaunting her many tattoos. The ink covered nearly all the flesh up both arms, and also found its way over her left shoulder and down onto her breast. Her light brown skin made the faded designs appear more muted in colour, but still made her stand out more than the other girls. Many men seemed intrigued to know just where else she had been scarred by the tattooist’s needle.
As a car pulled to a stop in front of her, she bent her head to see inside the open window. The harsh night made her even more eager to get away, to seek shelter from the rain that grew heavier by the second.
A price was quickly agreed, and the man across the road saw her disappear inside the car. He wondered how far gone she was with child, spawned by an unknown faceless punter. He hazarded a guess at no more than eleven weeks, since her belly showed no signs of swelling.
As the car pulled away into the unforgiving night, something inside spurred him on. He charged across the road, giving chase. The driver put his foot down before he could get close enough.
The man stood staring after the lights as they grew smaller by the second. What had he been thinking? He would have to make his move later, and promised himself that she would not leave him until he knew she was ready and she’d earned the right of safe passage.
*
Inside the car, Nola lit up a rolled cigarette, relishing the small amount of warmth and comfort it gave her. The sickly scent of cannabis swirled into the punter’s face and his mouth pulled into a hard line of disgust. He took one hand off the wheel, violently plucked the cigarette from her mouth, and discarded it out the window.
Nola risked a sideways glance at his face but stayed silent. He had paid for submissive and she had agreed to play the part in his twisted fantasy, no questions asked. As she sat in the passenger seat, rainwater dripping from her tightly curled hair, she was indifferent when the car turned down a dark lonely side street.
Deep down she had never felt any shame in the fact that sometimes she enjoyed this job. The fact that she now carried another life inside her never even crossed her selfish mind and had no bearing on her decisions. Little did she know, or could have ever imagined, just how quickly this was about to change.
11:57 p.m.
It was nearly midnight when she was pushed from the car as it parked up outside the back entrance to a nightclub down another dark side-road. She hit the concrete, landing hard on her knees, cutting holes in her leggings.
The car door slammed shut behind her and tyres screeched on the wet tarmac. She pulled herself up, but fell forward onto her hands, feeling the raw sting as the surface cut her flesh. As if to add insult to injury, the heavens opened once again, and large drops of rain engulfed her.
