Ebony nodded. ‘Yes, but nothing suspicious.’
Carter pushed past a journalist who called out ‘Excuse me, mate?’ as he passed.
‘Christ – no – you can’t have a frigging interview.’ Carter squared up to him. ‘If you vultures don’t get out of the way I’ll do you for obstructing a police investigation. And I’m not your frigging mate – got it? MOVE.’
The reporter backed off with two hands in the air in a mock show of compliance.
‘Just doing our job.’
Ebony looked across at Carter as he shook his head, annoyed. They’d worked together for a year. She knew him well. She knew he’d be cross because the reporter was right and, on most days, Carter would have chatted to the journalists, got them on his side. But today Carter was somewhere dark in his own head. He looked across at her and shook his head, exasperated.
‘Sorry.’
‘You all right, Guv?’
‘Yeah. Sorry – got a lot going on at the moment, Ebb.’
‘Guv?’
She raised her eyes towards the car to show where they’d left it and to show Carter that he was going in the opposite direction.
‘I know, I know,’ he snapped irritably.
Carter got into the driver’s seat and waited till Willis shut her passenger door and then reversed at speed, almost hitting the photographer who had just stepped off the kerb to get a photo of them leaving. Willis stayed quiet. She looked across at him. She’d worked with him long enough to know he’d tell her in his own time. She was waiting for him to calm down and get back to what he was good at. Carter was the best ‘people person’ she knew. Today was an ‘off’ day.
‘You want me to attend the post mortem on my own, Guv? It’s no problem.’
‘What, and let you have all the fun?’ He smiled gratefully. ‘No, I’ll be all right, Ebb. Nothing like the smell of a post mortem to get things in perspective.’
After the black BMW had passed him on the bridge, the man turned back to look at the white tent below. The fog was just beginning to thin and he could see it shine bright in the wisps of white. He smiled to himself. He was breathless. Something told him today was the day she would finally rise through the dark water to reveal herself to the world – reborn. And the game would begin again.
Chapter 3
Tracy Collins was still in her dressing gown watching telly while she got ready for work. She was on a late shift today. She worked on a cosmetics counter at Simmons department store on Holloway Road. Because Christmas opening hours had just begun, her shift started at two today and would go on until nine.
Her husband Steve had left for work already so Tracy didn’t have to bother about anything other than putting on her face for work. She liked the noise of the television to keep her company while she got ready. She listened to the news as she wandered in and out of the bathroom between applying layers of make-up.
‘Damn.’
It all seemed to be going so well then she dropped an eyelash just as she was about to glue it into place. Tracy knelt on the lino and tried to pick it up between her finger and thumb but her acrylic nails were too thick at their ends. Instead she licked the pad of her forefinger and pressed it down on the lash. She stood back up and deposited it on the side of the sink, stopping to listen to the reporter on the telly in the other room.
‘Today a woman’s body was found beneath the ice in the Regent’s Canal at King’s Cross.’ Tracy walked back into the lounge, looking at the TV screen – at the image of the fog and the frozen canal. ‘Police are not yet able to identify the woman and are treating her death as suspicious. They are appealing for any witnesses and anyone with any information to come forward and ring the number on the screen.’
Tracy moved closer to the screen to get a better look at the canal and the crime scene tent. She knew the area well. She’d had many walks along the canal. She knew that exact spot. As she swung her head in disbelief and squinted at the images of the crime scene tent she caught a glimpse of an Italian-looking detective with immaculate black shiny hair and a stripy scarf pulled up around his chin. Then, a few seconds later, she saw a blonde-haired woman in a white forensic suit emerging from the tent. Just as she was absorbed with watching the report the phone rang and made Tracy jump. She ran and grabbed it from the bathroom where she’d left it on top of the toilet cistern.
Her heart thumped as she looked at the number on the screen.
‘Yes?’ she said abruptly.
She hadn’t meant to sound so jumpy. The news, the disturbance to her routine had done it. She was jittery.
‘Is it a bad time?’ It was a woman’s voice on the other end of the line.
‘No. Sorry. You just caught me, that’s all. I’m getting ready for work.’ She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
‘Is it still okay for today?’ the woman asked.
‘Yes. Yes, of course.’ Tracy said, her voice metre swinging too high. ‘I’m looking forward to it. But – I’m sorry – I don’t have long. It will just have to be a quick chat today. You do understand? It’s Christmas opening hours and we’re going to be really busy in the shop.’
‘Yeah. You said before.’
‘Oh sorry… of course… I’m just nervous. Are you still bringing your son with you – Jackson, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t have a choice. He only goes to school in the mornings.’
‘And you know where it is?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s fine, as I said, there’s a Christmas Fayre just around the corner from me. We can meet there by Santa’s Grotto.’
‘Okay. See you there.’
‘But I don’t know what you look like.’
‘I’ll know you,’ the woman answered.
‘Oh… all right. Well, I’ll see you at four then. I’m looking forward it.’ Tracy was just about to ask her how she would know her when the phone went dead. ‘Hello? Danielle?’ Tracy looked at the phone in her hand for a few seconds. Had she handled that well? Had she come across okay? She sighed and set about saving the number: new contact.
Tracy felt butterflies in her stomach. Some of it was guilt. She hadn’t told Steve what she was up to. She didn’t know why but it didn’t seem a good idea; not until she was sure what would come of it. She went back into the bathroom and applied fresh glue to the eyelash on the side of the sink. As she waited for her hand to stop shaking she looked at her reflection. Danielle must have come into Simmons and seen Tracy behind the counter. What had she thought? She always tried to make a good impression and to look her best. Had she looked okay that day? She must have, she supposed, otherwise Danielle wouldn’t want to see her, let alone bring her son.
Tracy paused, eyelash on her finger, and looked into her reflection. She felt old suddenly. She looked at herself and frowned. Thirty-six wasn’t old. Deep inside she was still the same girl she used to be. She still wore the same make-up she’d worn as a teenager. Her hair was dyed to keep it looking vibrant. Her skirts were longer now. But inside she was the same girl who’d got pregnant at fifteen.
Chapter 4
Carter and Willis returned to Fletcher House, where they were part of the thirty-eight-man Murder Squad. Fletcher House was at the back of Archway Tube station and joined onto Archway Police Station. Just a door separated the normal goings-on of a police station from what they called ‘The Dark Side’. It was home to Major Incident Team seventeen, MIT 17, along with three other MIT teams that served Londoners north of the Thames. Each MIT team had its own, identically laid out, floor. MIT17 was on the third floor.