Authors: Kerry Wilkinson
Jessica took it from him and put it in the bag of clothes. She wanted to change out of the gown but didn’t want to finish the conversation. ‘I don’t remember . . . I . . . was
anyone else hurt?’
‘No. Your neighbour’s house has a bit of damage but everyone got out.’
‘What have we got to go on?’
‘We?’
Jessica continued to glower at him, refusing to give ground.
‘Fine,’ he eventually said. ‘Currently, not much. Jack’s there with the investigating team but it looks the same as the others. The front door is almost entirely
destroyed, as are the window frames – so probably petrol or diesel.’
‘But how did they know where I lived? Was I followed? Is it someone I know?’
Dave shook his head. ‘Jess . . .’
‘What?’
‘You’ve got to slow down and let us sort this out. You have to focus on getting better.’
‘I am better.’
Jessica could see he was torn about what to say but she couldn’t stop her mind from whirring. She knew Martin Chadwick was in hospital himself, so it definitely couldn’t be him. She
didn’t think it would have anything to do with Anthony Thompson – which only left Ryan. She remembered slapping him and the way he looked at her as if to say he would get her. Had he
really done this as revenge?
‘I’m going to get changed,’ Jessica said.
Rowlands nodded. ‘Okay.’
‘Er, do you want to leave?’
The constable stood up, having clearly missed the point before. ‘Oh right, sorry. I’ll wait outside.’
‘Can you help me with the back before you go?’ Jessica turned around, letting him loosen the ties at the rear of the gown. His hands felt reassuringly warm on her skin as he slid
them down to the base of her back.
‘Is that okay?’
‘Yeah, ta.’
As he closed the door behind him, Jessica dropped the robe to the floor and pulled out the clothes Chloe had left. They were a tiny bit too tight but would do until she could get back to the
house to see if anything was salvageable. Luckily, the battered pair of black trainers at the bottom of the bag fitted perfectly.
Before she was ready to leave, Jessica turned on her phone, ignoring the ‘Switch It Off’ signs. As it connected slowly to the network, Jessica began to think of the everyday things
she had lost. She wondered how she would be able to charge her phone, where they would get mail delivered to, what would happen to all the burned items. Were they hers and Adam’s
responsibility, or did the council help clean things up? She realised that, now she was the victim, she knew so little when it came to what happened after crimes had taken place.
The phone screen blurred into life and, one by one, the device buzzed to announce the arrival of messages and missed calls. Most of them came from people at the station although there were none
from either Caroline or her parents, which was something of a relief as it meant she could contact them herself and say she was fine. There were text messages from both Sebastian and Garry.
Ignoring Sebastian’s, Jessica called Garry, who answered before she had even heard it ring.
‘Blimey, you’re keen,’ she said.
‘Jess?’
‘Who else?’
‘I heard about . . . well, we all did. Are you all right?’
Jessica tried to sound as upbeat as she could, knowing tears would not be far away if she attempted to be serious. ‘I’m fine. Adam’s fine. I was trying to reply to your message
but the predictive text kept changing the word “knob” to “know”, so I thought I’d call instead.’
It was clear from the pause and Garry’s gentle tone that he wasn’t believing the bravado. ‘I’m glad you called. I wanted to phone you but Dave said you were in hospital.
I thought I should tell you about our front page tomorrow . . .’ He tailed off guiltily.
‘What are you writing?’ Jessica asked.
‘Nothing bad, we’re just saying what’s happened with you and your house and everything.’
‘Are you using my name?’
‘Yes, we have to. That’s the story. I’m sorry, Jess.’
Jessica didn’t know how to feel. It was another in her long list of things she hadn’t considered. She knew the fire would get coverage and the fact she was one of the officers
investigating the series of arsons made it even more of a story.
‘What’s the headline?’
‘I didn’t write it.’
Jessica paused for a moment, wondering why she wasn’t feeling angry. ‘Just tell me, it’s fine.’
She heard Garry take a deep breath before replying. ‘“Arson nut burns down hero cop’s house”.’
Jessica thought about the words for a few moments. ‘I guess it could have been worse. How do you know they’re a “nut”?’
She heard Garry snort slightly. ‘Christ knows. I didn’t write it.’
‘And what about “cop”? We’re not in bloody New York.’
‘I know but it’s nice and short for a headline.’
‘“Hero”?’
Garry sounded pensive. ‘I suggested that bit.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you are a hero, Jess. Everyone knows the cases you’ve been on in the past. Randall, Doherty, the Marks brothers . . .’
Jessica felt a lump in her throat, embarrassed that she could solve other cases but, when it came to someone who had tried to burn her in her sleep, she either didn’t have a clue –
or couldn’t pin it on the person she suspected.
‘Cheers,’ she said quietly before lurching into a cough. Again, it started deep inside her and she couldn’t control how long it lasted. She dropped the phone on one of the
chairs, using both hands to cover her mouth. When she finally stopped and pulled away, there were flecks of blood and black in her palms. She winced at the sight and, in the absence of any tissues,
wiped them on the underside of the seat before picking the phone back up.
‘Garry?’
‘I’m still here. Are you okay? That sounded bad.’
‘Nah, just a little tickle.’
The man paused briefly. ‘Jess, are you sure you’re all right?’
Garry was using the same concerned tone as Rowlands and it was beginning to annoy her. She ignored his question. ‘What picture of me have you used?’
The journalist clearly hadn’t anticipated her question and stumbled over his words. ‘I don’t know, a normal one.’
‘I don’t look like a moron?’
For a moment, she thought he was going to say ‘no more than usual’. She almost implored him to, wanting him to treat her normally. Instead, his reply was measured. ‘You just
look like you, Jess.’
Jessica swallowed but her throat was drying out again. ‘All right. Thanks for calling anyway. I appreciate it. Don’t make a habit of it though.’
‘Okay, I was just concerned . . .’
‘I don’t mean that – I mean tipping me off about stories. If you’re nice to me too often I’m going to have to stop thinking all journalists are ambulance-chasing
shits.’ Garry laughed but Jessica knew her bluster hadn’t duped him in the same way it hadn’t fooled Rowlands.
After hanging up, she dialled Andrew Hunter’s number. He sounded sleepy as he answered. ‘Er, hello?’
‘Andrew, it’s Jess. Are you going to be in your office tomorrow afternoon?’
‘Um, I guess . . .’
Before he could say anything else, Jessica cut across him. ‘Good, because I’m coming over.’
‘Okay . . .’
‘You should probably read the papers in the morning too.’
With that she hung up and called Rowlands back into the room.
‘You took a while,’ he said.
‘It takes time to look this good.’ She saw a smile crack across Dave’s face and realised she must be a mess. Her hair felt dirty and the clothes didn’t quite fit. She
knew she needed a shower.
‘You should go home,’ she said. ‘It’s late and I’m feeling all right. One of the nurses said they’ll sort out a room for me so I can get some sleep and
I’ll call you all tomorrow.’
‘You only just got dressed.’
Jessica didn’t want to tell him that she had put clean clothes on to feel normal – or that the reason she wanted him to leave wasn’t because she was going to sleep but because
she wanted to be by herself.
‘I just wanted to make sure it all fitted,’ she said.
Dave nodded. ‘Okay, but make sure you call tomorrow.’
He turned to leave but Jessica touched his arm and pulled him towards her, resting her head on his breastbone and wrapping her arms around him. ‘Thank you for staying with me.’
At first, he seemed reluctant to reciprocate but then he put his arms completely around her, holding her and resting his chin on the top of her head.
Jessica eventually pulled away. ‘I’ll see you or talk to you tomorrow,’ she said.
She could tell he was forcing a smile as he motioned to leave for a second time. ‘Don’t come anywhere near work or Jack will go mental.’
‘Okay.’
Jessica watched him leave and then found one of the nurses. They allowed her to look around the door of Adam’s room but he was asleep. For a moment she stood transfixed by his chest rising
and falling before the nurse brushed her arm and brought her back to reality.
She led Jessica to a small ward just along the corridor from Adam’s, where they said she would be able to stay the night. The smell of disinfectant was strong and, after she had been left
alone, Jessica found it hard not to gag. Her mind was a mixture of things she definitely knew had happened and flashes of those she wasn’t so sure about.
Jessica removed Chloe’s clothes and entered the shower cubicle adjacent to the room. She turned on the water, adjusting the temperature until it was so hot that even holding her hand
underneath it made her wince. Jessica closed her eyes and held her breath, stepping under the cascading water. She jumped as the heat burned the back of her neck but stayed underneath the jet,
opening her eyes and staring at the plughole. As the black water swirled and descended through the holes in the floor, Jessica couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. They had been close
ever since her senses had returned but now, finally, she let go.
She crouched and then sat under the spray, watching the water slowly turn from black to grey and eventually run clear as the enormity of what had happened dawned on her.
Someone had tried to kill her.
As Jessica entered Andrew Hunter’s office, she couldn’t help but scowl at his open-mouthed welcome. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘You look like
you’ve seen a ghost.’
He hastily looked away as she sat down, brushing a copy of the morning’s paper off his desk onto the floor.
‘Subtle,’ she said sarcastically.
‘Sorry, I . . .’
‘It’s fine.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’
Jessica wriggled in the seat. ‘Getting a new chair would be a start.’
‘Sorry, I’ve got one on order.’
‘You told me that last time.’
‘Er, yeah . . .’
‘Forget it. Look, I need you to do something for me. I’ll pay whatever your rate is but it’s all unofficial, nothing to do with the police, it’s not CID, it’s a
personal thing.’
Jessica could see the man looking uneasy in his chair. He glanced nervously away from her. ‘I don’t want your money,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘Aren’t you going to need it? With the . . .’
‘You can say “fire”.’
Jessica was becoming annoyed by the way everyone skirted around the issue. After emerging from the shower the previous evening, finally clean of the soot and smoke, she had resolved to get on
with sorting things out and, regardless of what Cole said, finding out who had tried to kill her.
‘Sorry . . .’
‘And stop apologising!’ Andrew seemed suitably chastened and Jessica felt bad about raising her voice. ‘Shall we start the conversation again?’ she suggested.
Andrew offered his hand across the desk and they shook. ‘I still don’t want your money,’ he said.
‘Why?’
‘Honestly? I don’t need it. You might not believe it given the state of this place, your broken chair and the fact I come to work each day – but I’ve got money. I could
stay at home and live off it if I wanted. I’m not massively rich but I could get by if I invested it sensibly and lived off the interest.’
Jessica was stunned by his revelation. For the first time, she properly eyed Andrew’s appearance. When she had first seen him at the scene of Sienna’s death, she had thought he was
so plain, she would struggle to remember what he looked like. That was still true but he did have something appealing about him too, although it was hard to pinpoint what. He had sand-coloured hair
that was cut short and had been left to fall in no discernible style. His clothes seemed too tight and his suit certainly wasn’t an expensive one given the way it was cut.
Andrew must have noticed her interest because he smiled – and Jessica knew what it was that made him stand out. It was when he grinned or joked. Unlike most people, he only seemed to show
the beam on one half of his face. The right side of his mouth would crinkle upwards, the left unmoving. It was an odd yet strangely attractive feature.
‘It’s not that hard to believe, is it?’ he added.
‘Did you win the lottery or something?’
Andrew laughed again. ‘I wish it was that simple. It’s complicated but, because you’ve got bigger things to worry about, let’s just say I was married, now I’m not.
I just have money instead – that’s why I don’t need yours. Whatever you want doing, it’s fine.’
‘Can I ask a question?’
‘Go on but I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re wondering.’
Jessica laughed. ‘No, but at least you think like one of us. I was wondering why you haven’t got a better bloody chair over here if you have money.’
It was Andrew’s turn to snigger. ‘Money I’ve got. I’m just lazy. Sometimes I think I’d rather this all fell through so I could just stay at home. Maybe I
don’t really want clients? I have no idea.’
Jessica thought about his reply for a few moments. ‘That’s pretty honest.’
Andrew shrugged dismissively.
‘Would you like to hear about my morning?’ Jessica asked.
Andrew leant forward slightly, offering the half-smile she now associated with him. When he replied ‘go on’, she felt a tingle of relief she only partly understood. He was largely a
stranger but she could see something behind his eyes that she felt herself. It was probably because she now knew him in the context of something happening with his ex-wife. As he’d mentioned
that he had previously been married, she had seen in his face that he was still in love with whoever the woman was. She could understand wanting to hide emotions through work.