‘Yes, sir.’ Jane left the room, glowing from Moran’s words of praise.
Gibbs waited until Jane had closed the door. ‘You know A10 won’t just sweep Simmonds’ death under the carpet, guv? They love to screw the department whenever they can. They’ll go through the investigation with a fine-tooth comb looking for any fuck ups.’
Moran shrugged. ‘I’m not worried about being interviewed by the rubber heels, Spence. As far as I’m concerned, the “fuck up” just left the room.’
Jane volunteered to deal with the unenviable task of informing the London-based victims’ families about Simmonds’ arrest, confession and subsequent suicide, while Gibbs travelled to Manchester to inform the Summers family, as he’d already met them when they were in London.
Jane visited Andrew Hastings first. He was still living at his mother’s flat, since his wife had apparently asked for a divorce. He was his usual arrogant self and moaned once again about the fact that he’d been arrested. Jane suspected that underneath it all, he’d been hit hard by his mother’s death, but he was so self-obsessed, he found it hard to show his emotions. Jane told him the coroner had released his mother’s body for burial. Hastings was quick to tell Jane that he didn’t want any police at the funeral and asked her to leave.
Hilary Peters cried profusely when Jane told her that her brother, Aiden, was dead. It was of some comfort for her to know that Aiden had been framed by Simmonds and had had no involvement in the women’s murders. Even Hilary’s husband commented that, regardless of Aiden’s sexuality, he didn’t deserve to die in the way he did. Both he and Hilary were grateful for all that Jane had done as it proved his innocence, but Hilary was still scathing about Moran’s bigotry and the way he had spoken about her brother.
Jane’s hardest visit was with Brenda and Simon Matthews. She found it upsetting to see the bright young boy happy to see her. It showed he still had no understanding of what had happened to his mother. Brenda would have liked to see Simmonds spend the rest of his life suffering in prison and felt cheated by his suicide. Jane was about to leave when Simon came up to her holding a drawing book.
‘Grandma said to show this to you, Jane, because you are so nice to me and to her.’ Simon opened the book and handed it to Jane.
The drawing, in pencil and crayon, had ‘Mummy’ written at the top. Helen had a smiley face, red cheeks and brown hair, with a gold halo above her head. She was wearing a long yellow dress with angel wings. A voice balloon coming from her mouth said, ‘Thank you, Jane.’
‘You can keep it, if you like.’
‘That would be lovely. Thank you, Simon. Is it OK if I tear the drawing out as I don’t want to take your whole book?’
Simon nodded. Jane gently removed the drawing from the book.
‘I’ll keep this on my bedroom wall.’ Jane felt herself well up as she gave Simon a hug and kiss on the cheek.
As Jane left, she looked at her watch and realized she would have to get a move on to get to the church in time for Nathan’s 11 a.m. christening.
Simon was in his bedroom and opened the drawing book to the back page. He had already started a picture with the words ‘Bad Dentist’ written at the top of the page. Picking up a red crayon, he started to draw the devil’s horns on the head of the dentist. He had been too frightened to ever tell anyone about what had happened.
Jane parked and ran up the gravel driveway to the church. Her mother was pacing up and down at the doors. She was wearing a wide-brimmed hat, tailored navy suit and crisp frilled white blouse.
‘You’re late,’ her mother said sternly.
‘Sorry, I got caught up with work.’
‘Really, Jane, there are times when family should come first.’
Biting back a sarcastic retort, Jane took Simon’s drawing out of her coat pocket. ‘I was visiting the little boy whose mother was murdered. He gave me this.’ Jane handed the drawing to her mother. ‘Things like this reassure me that what I do as a police officer is worthwhile.’
Mrs. Tennison looked at the picture briefly and handed it back. ‘It’s a lovely drawing.’
Jane realized her mother hadn’t looked at it properly.
‘Everyone’s waiting inside for you. Pinch your cheeks, dear. You look all washed out. You should have let Pam do your hair.’
Jane followed her mother into the church. She ran her fingers through her hair and, even though she loathed doing it, pinched her cheeks.
Pam, Tony and his brother, who was to be the godfather, were standing at the christening font with the vicar. There was a small gathering of close family and friends sitting in the front two pews.
‘You cut that fine,’ Pam whispered.
‘Sorry, heavy traffic.’
Pam gave her a knowing smile. ‘You shouldn’t tell fibs in church.’
‘Can I hold Nathan?’ Jane asked.
‘Of course. You’re his godmother!’ Pam handed him over.
Jane could feel the warmth of his body through the white christening gown as she cradled him. His little face glowed with innocent happiness as he let out a gurgled laugh and smiled at her.
It was an emotional moment for Jane as the vicar baptized Nathan with holy water and made the sign of the cross on his forehead. She saw her parents’ adoring glances fixed on their grandchild, whilst Pam’s eyes brimmed with tears of pride as she held Tony’s hand.
Jane held Nathan closer to her chest, silently vowing that she would always protect him.
Acknowledgments
To my fantastic team at La Plante Globaclass="underline" Nigel Stoneman, Tory Macdonald and Veronica Goldstein. You keep the wheels turning and the engine running — thank you so much.
Huge thanks to all my publishers: Everyone at Bonnier Zaffre in London and New York — you are wonderful to work with and make the publishing process a joy for me. My international publishers, Allen and Unwin in Australia and Jonathan Ball in South Africa — I look forward to seeing you soon. And to the international publishers who translate my books into French, Japanese, Italian, Polish, Danish, Swedish... Je vous remercie, 
, Grazie, Dziękuję Ci, Tak skal du have, Tack...
Thank you to all the retailers who sell my books and promote them. You are always so creative and enthusiastic, and I still get a great thrill when I see my books on the shelves.
To all the media who have reviewed, interviewed, blogged and supported me and my books for many years — thank you so much, especially to Sarah Oliver, Malcolm Prince and Graham Norton.
Last, but by no means least — to you, my wonderful readers. Thank you for reading my books and for all the wonderful messages you send me via my website, Facebook and Twitter. I really do love hearing from you, and your kind words and positive feedback are what make me continue writing. I am forever grateful.