98
Mickey lay back and smiled. He couldn’t see Anni next to him, but he was sure she was smiling also. Or fairly sure. He checked. Yep. She was smiling too.
‘What?’ she said.
‘Nothing, just … nothing.’
She turned over, settled into him. He loved the feel of her warm naked body against his. Hoped he would never tire of it.
‘Nothing?’ she said. ‘Thanks a lot.’
She was smiling as she said it. Or at least he hoped she was. He checked again. She was.
After the call Mickey had made to Jessie James was abruptly ended, he’d got straight on the phone to the force in Suffolk, informed them of what had happened. He didn’t like leaving it and walking away, but he had no choice. He didn’t know where Jessie had been when she had taken the call — if indeed she had taken the call; if it had been a prank after she had lost her phone, perhaps, or if it had been genuine. Mickey’s gut feeling was that it had been genuine. The DI he had spoken to from Suffolk had agreed with him and assured him they would take it from there. Jessie and Deepak were their officers, after all.
Then, as they were finishing up looking through the files on the Sloanes at the station, Franks had called. A catch-up call. He asked them what they had discovered. Mickey told him about the call he had made to Jessie James, its abrupt end. Franks agreed that, procedurally, he had done the right thing.
‘Doesn’t make it any easier to cope with when you’re sitting on your own, though, does it, DS Philips?’ he had added.
Mickey had looked at Anni before answering. ‘No, sir. Doesn’t.’
Franks had then told them about the raid on the bareknuckle fight. And about finding Marina.
‘Thank God for that,’ Mickey had said. ‘Is she OK?’
‘Shaken. We’re still looking for the daughter, though.’
‘Oh God … ’
‘We’re working on it. It’ll be a long night.’
‘D’you want Anni and me to stay on, sir?’ Mickey asked. ‘Come and help?’
‘Stand down, DS Philips,’ Franks had said. ‘You two have done enough unpaid overtime for one day. At least I assume it’s unpaid.’
Mickey had agreed that it was.
‘Then leave it at that. Go home. Go to bed. Get some sleep.’
Mickey — and Anni — had done two of those things.
‘What are you looking at me for now?’ asked Anni.
Mickey smiled. ‘No reason. Just—’
His phone rang. Anni looked at him. ‘We’re off duty, remember?’
‘After the last few days?’ said Mickey. ‘You think so?’
He answered it, identified himself.
‘DI Adrian May. Suffolk Police. You phoned us earlier about DS James?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. What’s happened?’
‘We just wanted to let you know that we’ve heard from DC Shah.’
‘Thank God. They OK?’
‘The signal was very weak. He mentioned something about DS James being hurt and both of them being taken against their will.’
Mickey sat up. ‘Right … ’
‘But we’ve tried to put a GPS trace on his phone.’
‘Where is it?’
‘Harwich, we think.’
‘Harwich? Our patch.’
‘Exactly.’
Mickey glanced at Anni. She was sitting upright too, the sheets having fallen away from her body. She was beautiful, but he didn’t have time to register that. She was also looking concerned.
‘Do you … need us as, I don’t know, liaison or something?’
‘If you don’t mind.’
Mickey said he didn’t, ended the call.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Anni.
Mickey told her. They were dressed and out of Mickey’s flat in record time.
99
‘You’re Stuart, yes?’ asked Marina, bending forward, trying to keep the urgency from her voice. ‘That’s who you are.’
Stuart nodded. Looked relieved to have been recognised.
‘Then who is Amy, Stuart? Who is she?’
Stuart leaned back, seemed to study the ceiling.
‘Who is she, Stuart? Who’s Amy? Who is she?’
Franks gently placed his hand on Marina’s arm. She relented, sat back. Stuart looked at them, a hurt expression on his face.
‘There’s no need to get nasty. I’m going to tell you.’
Marina nodded, tried to slow her hammering heart. ‘Good. That’s good to hear, Stuart. So who is she?’
‘She’s … Amy wanted to be my sister. Or she said she did. But she was only pretending. She didn’t really want to do that. She didn’t really like me.’ His voice dripped sadness. ‘She only pretended when other people were around. So she could get to be near me. And when she was near me, she would hurt me … ’ He clasped his arms round his body. Began to rock slowly back and forward.
Marina knew she didn’t have much time. If Stuart’s mood changed, if he slipped into a fugue state or became uncommunicative, she knew the interview would be over. And if that ended, then perhaps her daughter’s life would too.
It was clear that he was damaged and she had to tread carefully. She tried another approach. One that might not excite him as much. ‘She wanted you to talk to me, Stuart, didn’t she?’
He frowned. ‘Are you the doctor?’
‘I’m a psychologist, yes.’
‘Are you Josephina’s mother?’
Marina looked at Franks, who nodded. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘yes I am.’
‘I looked after her for you.’
Marina put her hands on the table to stop them trembling. ‘Thank you for that, Stuart. I’m very grateful.’
He accepted the thanks by nodding, then frowned. ‘You’re here to tell me whether I’m mad or not, aren’t you?’
‘Well, I’m … Yes. That’s … Yes.’
‘Yeah.’ He nodded again. Stopped rocking. ‘Yeah. I’ve seen a lot of doctors like you. Lots and lots. They always asked me questions. Always wanted to know things. Things in my head.’
‘And did you tell them?’
He shook his head. ‘No. Things in my head are private.’
‘They certainly are, Stuart,’ Marina said, and noticed a glimmer in his eyes. Please let that be some kind of connection, she thought. Please. For Josephina’s sake. ‘I won’t ask you about the private things in your head.’
‘Good.’ He looked relieved once more.
