She put on a brave smile and produced a crumpled packet of Nicorettes from her jeans pocket. ‘Bet you crack first,’ she tried for some light heartedness.
He kicked the small holdall at his feet. ‘I’d better see if I can fit this in too,’ he said to Izzy. Still holding her to him, he took the decorative box with one hand and slid it into one of the bag’s compartments.
Izzy’s face crumpled, she stuck her thumb in her mouth and buried her head in his chest. ‘I don’t want you to go, Dad!’
‘It’s not for long Izz, he’ll soon be back.’ Stevie regarded Monty in her peripheral vision; saw him briefly close his eyes, his throat moving as he swallowed.
‘Dad’s been sick: he just needs to go back to his mum for a while and have a rest. You like being with me when you’re sick, don’t you?’
‘But when will you be back?’ Izzy asked him.
‘In about three weeks, the time will whiz by.’
Izzy seemed to take comfort from this. The thumb popped from her mouth. The toys in the window of one of the duty free shops seemed to beckon.
‘Can I go over there?’ she pointed.
‘Just as long as you stay where I can see you,’ Stevie said.
‘How’s Natasha?’ Monty asked, his eyes fixed on their daughter as she rummaged through the items in a specials basket outside the shop.
‘Still talking to me, which is a surprise seeing as I’ve recommended that she undertake some retraining at the academy—a course on questioning suspects.’
Monty raised his eyebrows—impressed that she was finally taking her seniority seriously perhaps? Whatever his thoughts, she was glad he didn’t express them.
‘And when she’s done the course she’s being transferred—at her own request I might add.’
Stevie didn’t think his eyebrows could go any higher.
‘Why would she do that, I wonder?’ he asked.
Stevie hesitated, smiled. ‘The same reason I transferred from the SCS. A relationship with the boss.’
It took a moment to sink in. He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Dolly? Hayward? You’ve got to be kidding. Dolly was the...’
‘Yes, the mystery pal she went to see after Mrs Kusak.
‘Jesus, no wonder she didn’t want that name bandied around.’
The final call for Monty’s flight was announced. Only a handful of people were left at the departure gate. Izzy and Stevie trailed behind him to the desk. The security guard examined his boarding pass then Monty stepped aside to cuddle Izzy. ‘Be good and help Mum, she’s going to be busier than ever now she’s been promoted.’
It was Stevie’s turn. Tears cooled her cheeks and burned her throat when he hugged her. ‘We both need to do some serious thinking. It’s for the best, you know it is,’ he whispered in her ear.
He pulled back, wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb and made his way down the long tunnel.
He didn’t look back.
With Izzy a dead weight in her arms, the walk back to the car felt as if she was ploughing through waist deep mud. The pressure of Izzy’s leg made the ring on Stevie’s finger swivel, the stone dig into the flesh. She paused to readjust it, then gave a ‘mother’s hitch’, hoisting Izzy further up her hip.
Mother and daughter.
Her thoughts strayed to Stella Webster.
When news came through to the ops room of Stella’s confession, it was to the accompaniment of loud cheering.
Everyone in the unit rejoiced, it seemed, that the underdog had bitten back.
In her statement Stella said after Bianca’s body was found, Emma had telephoned her to tell her what she knew about Miro Kusak and ‘Daniel’. It was then that she’d planned Kusak’s murder. Stella maintained that Emma had been no more than her accomplice and the supplier of the gun.
It seemed very likely that once news broke about cracking the paedophile ring, public opinion would ensure a minimal sentence for the bereaved mother. And Emma’s age meant that her identity could not be revealed—Stevie supposed she should be grateful for small mercies.
Her phone rang as she was searching for change for the ticket machine. Izzy was grizzling and she could hardly hear Tash’s voice through the racket. Something about the pub and a celebration. She finally hushed Izzy up by getting her to search through her purse for change as Tash prattled on. ‘Come on, you have to join us. Dolly’s coming and we have a lot to celebrate. Even Barry’s being bearable, probably knows I’d flatten him ... Stevie ... Did Monty get off okay? ... Stevie, are you there ... can you hear me? ... Are you all right?’
‘Sorry Tash, reception’s really bad, can’t hear a thing, I’ll ring you back.’
Stevie closed her eyes for a moment, then lifted Izzy up so she could put the coins in the slot and grab the ticket as it was spat out. She had finally stopped crying.
‘What would you like to do now, Izz?’ Stevie asked as she lowered her daughter to the ground.
Izzy sniffed. ‘I want to go home and watch a movie with you. I need my favourite things.’
The Sound of Music? Jeez, must be about the twentieth time this month. ‘That’s the best idea I’ve heard all week,’ Stevie said.
***
Hitler’s bunker seemed strange and empty without Christopher, without Aidan Stoppard, without the banister rails. The police had taken away the gruesome artpiece which she’d always hated, and organised cleaners to mop up the blood. A stranger would never have known what had happened here. The real estate agent had hammered the sign outside the front and soon she would be starting school over east, paid for by a trust fund Christopher had set up years ago for her. It was the only money he hadn’t lost to Aidan Stoppard.
Miranda was asleep. Again. Emma wondered when she’d run out of GPs to get tranquillisers from, wondered how she’d cope in the little unit in Kingsley that she’d soon be moving to.
Stevie hadn’t believed what she’d said about throwing the gun in the weir. They’d found it in the garden pond. It was embarrassing to have been caught out in another lie.
But at least they hadn’t closed down her website.
Emma sat at her desk, ran her fingers through her dark hair and sighed—so much to do and so many people to email before morning came.
Katy Enigma was always of the belief that when one door closed, another one opened. The Monster had taken away her magic powers and they had taken away her secret weapon. They had also closed down her HQ where the dragon lived and the water lilies bloomed.
But no one could take away her words.
She packed her father’s abandoned laptop and a few belongings into her backpack—it could hold a lot more stuff now that it wasn’t weighed down with the jet engine—and she stepped with it into the black night. She didn’t know the answers she sought, she didn’t yet know the questions, or even the exact nature of her quest. All she knew as she stood there on the highway with her thumb poking out, feeling the hot push of the trucks’ exhaust fumes in her face, was that what she was doing felt so right...
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to the following for their invaluable technical advice and support: Janet Blagg, my editor who knows all the right buttons to press; Constable Elliot Cottrill and Inspector Tom Clay for their help with police procedure; Kellie Potter, computer whiz extraordinaire; Christine Nagel, Trish O’Neil and Carole Sutton for tips and ideas.