‘No, it wasn’t,’ she said, wiping her face and trying to regain her composure. ‘I should never have gone in there without backup. Peterson…’
‘You shouldn’t have gone in. But you’ll be judged more on the outcome. I’ll make sure I emphasise this when I submit my report.’ Erika nodded. Melanie went back to her side of the desk and sat down. ‘They’ve retrieved two computers from Darryl Bradley’s bedroom, maps and plans he’d downloaded of the CCTV network in London. We have the cars: the red Citro?n and the blue Ford which was parked at the rear of the house, and forensics have been working on the Oast House…’ Melanie paused and took another sip of her whisky. ‘They found human teeth, skin, and hair samples in the furnace where he kept the women.’
Erika shook her head. ‘What about his mother?’
‘She’s still in Maidstone General with a concussion, but she’ll be released in the next twenty-four hours. We’ll want to question both her and the father.’
‘I don’t think the father knew,’ said Erika.
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I don’t know. There was something so innocent about him when he saw his wife lying there. Maybe innocent isn’t the right word. He seemed sheltered from life. In his own world… Maybe the mother knew. We’ll have to see what she says when questioned… Darryl Bradley. He’s not on the same hospital ward as Peterson, is he?’
Melanie shook her head. ‘When Darryl Bradley recovers, which should be soon, he’ll be transferred into custody.’
‘Where?’
‘He’ll need to be evaluated.’
Erika shook her head. ‘I’m sure as we speak there’s an expensive lawyer and doctor hovering around. He’ll plead insanity… He’ll end up in some cushy fucking psychiatric institution.’
Melanie put her hand on Erika’s arm.
‘You got him, Erika. You caught him. He would have kept on doing it, I’m sure. You saved lives. Take that home with you tonight. The rest we can worry about later.’
Erika downed the dregs of her whisky.
‘Thanks.’ She went to get up and go, then stopped. ‘Look. I’m sorry if I gave you a hard time when you took on acting superintendent.’
‘I won’t be for much longer. I’m not going to take the job when it’s made official.’
‘No?’ said Erika, surprised.
‘No. I’ve got two kids, a husband. Life’s too short, and I found myself forced to pick. I chose my family.’
‘I didn’t know you had a family.’
Melanie nodded. ‘Twin boys.’
‘Good for you.’
‘I’ve recommended that you get it, the promotion to superintendent,’ said Melanie. ‘I don’t know how much my word will sway things, but in light of what has happened, and if they don’t drag you over the coals for going in without backup, you could be in with a chance.’ She picked up her coat. ‘I’m going to head off. Why don’t you stay for a moment, have another drink? Or get a feel for the office.’
She nodded, and Melanie left.
Erika got up and went to the window, looking out over the rooftops, and then back at the office. The neat shelves stuffed with paperwork. A large dry marker board with cases written up in small grids. She went around the desk and sat in the chair, and her eye fell on the patch of carpet where Sparks had collapsed. She’d always had a dream, to get ahead, to succeed in the force. Was it all worth it?
Epilogue
A week later, Peterson was well enough to be transferred from intensive care to a regular ward, and Erika went to visit. She’d already been to see him a couple of times, but he had been unconscious.
She was nervous about seeing him, and had spent a long time choosing what to wear, and trying to work out what best to take him as a gift. She’d settled on a book.
When she arrived at his room, on the top floor of the UCL Hospital in Central London, Moss was sitting beside his bed. He looked thin, but bright, and he was sitting up in bed.
‘Hey, boss,’ said Moss, getting up and moving over to give her a hug. ‘We were just wondering where you were.’
‘I got held up… I got held up trying to work out what to wear,’ she said sheepishly, deciding to be honest. They looked at her jeans and cream jumper, and she followed their gaze. ‘I know; it doesn’t exactly look like I’ve chosen anything exciting.’
‘I like it,’ said Moss. There was silence. ‘Peterson was just telling me his exciting news. His catheter was taken out.’
He rolled his eyes.
‘Not something I would like to experience again,’ he said.
‘How are you doing?’ asked Erika, moving around to him and gently taking his hand. She looked down and saw the ID bracelet on his wrist, and that there were two IV lines in the back of his hand.
‘It’s going to be slow,’ he said, ‘but they’re saying I’ll make a full recovery. Who’d have thought that you can live without forty per cent of your stomach?’ He shifted awkwardly in the bed and grimaced.
‘I would kill to have forty per cent of my stomach removed. Have you seen the size of my arse!’ said Moss. There was another awkward silence. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘But you’re my best friend, and I’m just relieved you’re going to be okay, and I make jokes cos I don’t know what else to say.’ She pulled out a tissue and wiped her eyes.
Erika reached over and took Moss’s hand. ‘It’s okay,’ she said. Moss grinned.
‘Stop it, I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Now, what did you bring him? I was told no grapes, now he has less room for stomach acid.’
‘I brought my favourite book,’ she said, taking the copy of Wuthering Heights from her handbag and giving it to Peterson.
‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘I know it might seem an odd choice, but it was the first proper book I read when I learned to speak English, and it blew me away. The love story, the atmosphere. I thought you could do with a little escapism. I know I could. I was thinking of rereading it.’
‘Then I don’t want to take your copy,’ he said, going to hand it back.
‘No, that’s new. I bought it for you.’
‘Maybe we should read it together, at the same time,’ he said. ‘Sort of like a convalescent book club.’
‘Sounds good.’ She smiled.
* * *
When Peterson grew tired, Erika and Moss said goodbye, promising to visit him the following day. When they emerged from the hospital into Goodge Street it was busy with traffic, and they decided to walk down to Charing Cross.
‘I’ve been formally offered superintendent,’ said Erika, as they passed a coffee shop where several women sat shivering outside at tables smoking cigarettes.
‘Bloody hell! That’s great,’ said Moss.
‘Is it? I don’t know.’
‘You don’t know!? You quit in protest the last time you were overlooked for promotion, and now you don’t know?’
‘Of course I want it, but what about life?’
‘What about life? Life is what happens when you’re making other plans. Take the promotion. You’ll be the first non-arsehole that gets to that rank for a long time.’
Erika laughed. ‘What if I turn into an arsehole?’
‘Then I’ll tell you.’