don’t shout. I don’t know anything about your daughter’s case. But if you give me the details I’ll get someone to look into it.’
‘Get someone. Yeah, right.’
Phil sighed. ‘Who’s your FLO?”
‘What?’
‘Family Liaison Officer. You must have been assigned one.’
‘Some kid. Cheryl Bland. Some kid.’
Busy woman, thought Phil. ‘Couldn’t you speak to her?’
‘Worse than useless. Looks about twelve.’
‘Right. Who’s the CIO, the Chief Investigating Officer?’
‘Farrell. Detective Sergeant. But I never get to talk to him. They fob me off with this Cheryl Bland.’
‘OK. I’ll see what I can do. Have a word with DS Farrell, if he’s here. See if there’s any news.’
She gave a bitter laugh. Twisted the corners of her mouth into a cruel parody of a smile. ‘No you won’t. You’ll get behind that door and you’ll forget all about me. About Adele. You might speak to him and say I’m here. Then you’ll laugh about the stupid woman sittin’ there. And walk away and forget me.’
‘No I won’t.’
‘Yes you will. You’ll just forget. But I’ll still be here. I’ll still be waitin’.’
‘Look, Paula.’ He held her gaze again, returning her stare. ‘I appreciate you must be going through a considerable amount of pain. But I’m sure DS Farrell will be doing everything he can. And I will talk to him.’
Her gaze wavered slightly, his words connecting with her.
‘If he’s in the building I’ll talk to him and ask him to come down to talk to you. Give you an update.’
‘Thank you.’
‘OK?’
She nodded. Bowed her head quickly as her eyes became glassy and moist. ‘Thank you.’
‘No problem.’
Phil looked at the woman standing before him. Her anger now dissipated by his words, she seemed to have shrunk. He put his hands on her forearms, gave her a reassuring squeeze.
‘I’ll go find him now.’
She nodded, not raising her head.
Phil punched the numbers in, let the hydraulic door swallow him up.
22
The Creeper was irritated. And when he got irritated he became unhappy. And when he became unhappy he became angry.
And that wasn’t good. For any one.
Rani was back home. Which was good. He was looking forward to spending some quality time with her. Just the pair of them. The way it should be. But that wouldn’t be happening. Because she’d brought her friend with her. Without asking.
This was
Or accept the consequences.
But no, there she sat, in the living room, the blonde one who thought she was really pretty, drinking, not going anywhere in a hurry. In fact, she had brought a bag with her. Looked like she was going to stay.
The Creeper’s irritation tripped over into anger. That wasn’t right. Not right at all.
He had only just found her again. After all this time. There was so much they had to say to each other, so much catching up to do. So much time to spend together, just the pair of them.
That coiled snake began to writhe and twist inside him once more. Zoe shouldn’t be there. It should be Rani and him. Only him. They didn’t need her. They didn’t need anyone.
He watched, shaking, as Zoe went into the kitchen, began to prepare food for her and Rani.
The snake slithered, spat. That’s where he had left his present. And now this whore was going to find it. Not Rani.
Poison spread through him. His hands flexed and unflexed. Saliva foamed and frothed round his mouth, as he breathed through clenched teeth.
Not for her… not for her…
But there was nothing he could do, just watch.
Zoe went into Suzanne’s kitchen, filled the kettle. Tea. That was what was needed now. Not coffee, tea. It was warming, soothing. It destressed you, brought back happy associations from when you were younger, made you feel like you were curled in a chair, safe and warm. And if you had chocolate HobNobs to go with it, so much the better.
Zoe took the biscuits from the canvas carrier she had brought with her. When she had gone home to grab some clothes, she had popped into Sainsbury’s on the way, put a few essentials together, the makings of a meal for the pair of them, something for them to share in the hope it would take Suzanne’s mind off what had happened.
She arrayed the food on the counter. Looked at the biscuits and felt immediately hungry. She wanted to open the packet, start in on them right now. But she wouldn’t. She would take them in to Suzanne, open them in front of her and allow herself only one. Or perhaps even a half. And make sure Suzanne took them and put them away. Somewhere Zoe couldn’t find them.
Her stomach felt like a ravenous, cavernous space. But then it always did.
She loved food. Loved the sheer sensuality of eating, the feel of it in her mouth, the smells, the tastes, the textures. The way it slipped down her throat and into her stomach. The act of putting something inside her body, satisfying herself, her hungers and cravings, feeling it gradually fill her out. Wonderful. Nothing to touch it in the world. For Zoe, food was her sex.
But like so many of Zoe’s early sexual encounters, she ended up feeling bad about it afterwards. Guilt-ridden, hating herself and what her hungers had led her to do.
And that’s when her problems had started.
She’d never been anorexic, never been one to starve herself. That was something, she supposed. But sticking her fingers down her throat to bring it all back up again… to let her body feel cleansed, guilt-free and empty… that made perfect sense to her.
University for her had been about secrets and lies and double lives. The happy, extrovert – even exhibitionist at times – Zoe who was never short on friends or boyfriends. And the self-loathing, toilet bowl-hugging wreck that she really saw herself as.
Thank God she wasn’t like that any more. Thank God for her friends – or rather Suzanne. She had been there for her, helped her out, shown strength when Zoe didn’t have any of her own. She had picked her up, made her feel worthwhile, turned her life around. Been there for her when she needed her.
And thank God for therapy. It had been Suzanne’s idea and she couldn’t thank her enough for it. She hadn’t wanted to go at first but had to admit it was the best thing she had ever done. It gave her a new life, new confidence.
And a new boyfriend. Not as good-looking as the others but he loved her. She had felt he was different and she was right. She thought she could trust him with the truth so she told him all about her trouble. It was the best thing she had ever done. He said he didn’t care, would love her whatever size she was. And that filled her with something else, so rich and full and nourishing that her hungry heart no longer needed to binge any more.
But those HobNobs still looked good, though.
The kettle boiled and Zoe went about making tea in two of Suzanne’s fanciest mugs. A little thing, but hopefully it might help to cheer her up.
She opened the fridge door, looking for milk.
And stopped dead, her heart skipping a beat.
