Aftermath

sixth victim for some time, if ever. But still it galled. She should have a name, an identity.

Annie stood up. “Anyway, I’ve said what I came to say. Oh, and you’ll probably be hearing very soon that I’ve made a formal request to come back to CID. Think there’s any chance?”

“You can have my job, if you want.”

Annie smiled. “You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t I? Anyway, I don’t know if they’ve changed their minds about CID staffing levels, but I’ll talk to Red Ron, if you think that’ll help. We don’t have a DI right now, so it’s probably a good time to make your application.”

“Before Winsome catches up with me?”

“She’s sharp, that lass.”

“Pretty, too.”

“Is she? I hadn’t noticed.”

Annie stuck her tongue out at Banks and left his office. Sad as he felt at the end of their brief romance, he felt some relief, too. He would no longer have to wonder from one day to the next whether they were on or off again; he had been given his freedom yet again, and freedom was a somewhat ambiguous gift.

“Sir?”

Banks looked up and saw Winsome framed in his doorway. “Yes?”

“Just had a message from Steve Naylor, the custody sergeant downstairs.”

“Problem?”

“No, not at all.” Winsome smiled. “It’s Mick Blair. He wants to talk.”

Banks clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “Excellent. Tell them to send him straight up. Our best interview room, I think, Winsome.”

When she was packed and ready to head for London, Maggie took Lucy a cup of tea in bed the following morning. It was the least she could do after all the poor woman had been through lately.

They had talked well into the previous night, emptying a bottle of white wine between them, and Lucy had hinted at what a terrible childhood she had suffered and how recent events had brought it all back to mind. She had also confided that she was afraid of the police, afraid they might try to fabricate some sort of evidence against her, and that she couldn’t stand the thought of going to jail. Just one night in the cell had almost been too much for her to bear.

The police didn’t like loose ends, she said, and in this case she was a very serious loose end indeed. She knew they had been watching her and had sneaked out of her foster parents’ house after dark and taken the first train from Hull to York, then changed for London, where she had worked on changing her appearance, mostly through hair, makeup and a different style of dress. Maggie had to agree that the Lucy Payne she knew wouldn’t have been seen dead in the kind of casual clothes she was wearing now, nor would she have worn the same, slightly tarty makeup. Maggie agreed to tell no one that Lucy was there, and if any of the neighbors saw her and asked who she was, she would tell them she was a distant relative just passing through.

Both bedrooms, the large and the small, looked over The Hill, and when Maggie tapped on the door of the smaller room she had given Lucy and entered, she saw that Lucy was already standing by the window. Stark naked. She turned when Maggie entered with the tea. “Oh, thank you. You’re so kind.”

Maggie felt herself blush. She couldn’t help but notice what a fine body Lucy had: the full, round breasts, taut, flat stomach, gently curving hips and smooth tapered thighs, the dark triangle between her legs. Lucy seemed completely unembarrassed by her own nakedness, but Maggie felt uncomfortable and tried to avert her eyes.

Luckily the curtains were still closed and the light was fairly dim, but Lucy had held them open a little at the top and had clearly been watching the activity across the street. It had let up a bit in the past couple of days, Maggie had noticed, but there was still a great deal of coming and going, and the front garden was still a complete mess.

“Have you seen what they’ve done over there?” said Lucy, coming forward and accepting the cup of tea. She got back into bed and covered herself with the thin white sheet. Maggie was grateful at least for that.

“Yes,” said Maggie.

“That’s my house, and they’ve ruined it completely for me. I can’t go back there now. Not ever.” Her lower lip trembled in anger. “I saw through the door into the hall when someone came out. They’ve taken all the carpets, pulled up the floorboards. They’ve even punched big holes in the walls. They’ve just ruined it.”

“I suppose they were looking for things, Lucy. It’s their job.”

“Looking for what? What more could they want? I’ll bet they’ve taken all my nice things, too, all my jewelry and clothes. All my memories.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it all back.”

Lucy shook her head. “No. I don’t want it all back. Not now. I thought I did, but now I’ve seen what they’ve done, it’s tainted. I’ll start over again. With just what I’ve got.”

“Are you all right for money?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, thank you. We had a bit put away. I don’t know what will happen to the house, the mortgage, but I doubt we’ll be able to sell it in that state.”

“There must be some sort of compensation,” Maggie said. “Surely they can’t just take your house and not compensate you?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised at anything they could do.” Lucy blew on the tea. Steam rose around her face.

“Look, I told you last night,” Maggie said, “I have to go to London, just for a couple of days. Will you be all right here by yourself?”

“Yes. Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

“There’s plenty of food in the fridge and freezer, you know, if you don’t want to go out or order in.”

“That’s good, thank you,” said Lucy. “I think I really would just like to stay in and shut out the world and watch television or something, try to take my mind off what’s been happening.”

“There’s plenty of videotapes in the cupboard under the TV in my bedroom,” said Maggie. “Please feel free to watch them there whenever you want.”

“Thank you, Maggie. I will.”

Though there was a small television set in the living room, the only TV-and-VCR combination in the entire house was set up in the master bedroom, for some reason, and that was Maggie’s room. Not that she wasn’t thankful. She had often lain in bed unable to sleep and, when there was nothing suitable on television, had watched one of the love stories or romantic comedies Ruth seemed to favor, with actors such as Hugh Grant, Meg Ryan, Richard Gere, Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts and Sandra Bullock; they had helped her through many a long, hard night.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else you need?”

“I can’t think of anything,” Lucy said. “I just want to feel safe and comfortable so I can remember what it’s like.”

“You’ll be fine here. I’m really sorry I have to leave you so soon, but I’ll be back before long. Don’t worry.”

“It’s okay, honest,” said Lucy. “I didn’t come here to interrupt your life or anything. You’ve got your work. I know that. I’m only asking for sanctuary for a short time, just till I get myself together.”

“What are you going to do?”

“No idea. I suppose I can change my name and get a job somewhere far away from here. Anyway, not to worry. You go to London and have a good time. I can take care of myself.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Lucy got out of bed again, put her cup of tea on the bedside table and went back toward the window. There she stood, providing Maggie with a rear view of her finely toned body, looking out across the road at what used to be her home.

“I must dash, then,” said Maggie. “The taxi will be here soon.”

“Bye,” said Lucy, without turning round. “Have a good time.”

“Okay, Mick,” said Banks. “I understand you want to talk to us.”

After his night in the cells, Mick Blair didn’t at all resemble the cocky teenager they had interviewed yesterday.