The Babysitter

‘No, Cain, it can’t wait,’ Edwards assured him, glaring at him until he sat.

Edwards stayed standing, still staring unnervingly at him. ‘Now then,’ he said, finally, ‘would you like to tell me what the hell this shit is all about?’

Mark’s first reaction was revulsion as Edwards twirled the laptop on his desk to face him.

His second, overwhelming panic as he realised the laptop was his.





Seventy-One





JADE





Melissa was taking longer to succumb than Jade had anticipated. She eyed her suspiciously as she blundered up the stairs ahead of her, having dutifully taken her regular meds washed down with a cup of strong, extremely sweet tea. Had she thrown up again when she’d gone to the loo? She really was an irritating cow. Mark was welcome to her. Except, he wouldn’t have her ever again, apart from in his pathetic little fantasies.

‘I need to go to Poppy,’ Melissa said, making her way clumsily along the landing. ‘I need to talk to her.’

Talk to her? Jade rolled her eyes sky high. The woman was barely coherent.

‘Whoops.’ Her mouth curving into a smile, Jade caught Melissa as she appeared to lose the use of her legs and reeled sideways into the wall. ‘I’ve got you,’ she said, easing her up and steering her in the direction of her bedroom.

‘Poppy,’ the woman mumbled, dragging her feet, to Jade’s immense annoyance.

‘You’ve had a terrible shock, Mel,’ she said caringly. ‘You really should lie down. Come on. Let’s get you on the bed and I’ll fetch Poppy. She can snuggle up with you while I make you both something to eat. How does that sound?’

Mel nodded, pressing her hand to her forehead as she stumbled onwards, her brow furrowed and her expression pained, as if her perfect little world had disintegrated. She was probably contemplating how to end it all. As if she need worry her pretty little rusty-haired head about that with her babysitter here, ready to take care of everything.

Jade was debating whether to bring Poppy in or lock her away when Melissa babbled something about tiny toes and plaster casts, and weaved towards her bed.

Jade watched her go, perplexed. Bonkers, she thought, shaking her head. Complete basket case. She really had no idea what Mark had ever seen in her.

The hair was quite pretty, she supposed, looking closely at it as she helped needy Melissa lie back on the pillow. Wavy and lustrous, the copper suited her better. Why she’d ever sought to emulate her by dyeing it blonde, Jade couldn’t fathom.

Still, she couldn’t blame her for trying.

Turning to the door, having decided to fetch the brat, Jade fluffed up her own hair in the mirror, pouted her full lips and admired her breasts. Mark Cain had missed out big time. She’d have taken him to heights of ecstasy he couldn’t imagine in his wildest fantasies.

His loss.

His very great loss indeed.

She was halfway along the landing to Poppy’s room when her phone rang. Dylan, again. Jade tutted tetchily, accepted the call, and answered in her sweetest tones.

‘It’s on the news,’ Dylan squeaked in her ear.

Jade stifled her agitation. ‘It doesn’t matter, Dylan,’ she said patiently. ‘He’ll be in custody by now.’ Reviled by his colleagues. Spat on, probably. Jade got immense satisfaction from that. ‘They won’t believe another word he says.’

‘But they’re looking for her.’ Dylan sounded panicked.

‘Not for long,’ Jade said, less patiently.

‘But what if they believe him? He’s a policeman, ain’t he? One of their own.’ Dylan was talking fast, thinking in clichés. ‘And he is their father. What if they come—’

‘They won’t!’ Jade snapped, gritting her teeth hard. God, she was so sick of mollycoddling him. She should have fed him to Inky and bloody Oinky. Though it would probably take them a month to chomp through the useless great wimp.

‘They won’t, Dylan,’ she said, more kindly, when she realised he’d gone quiet. ‘The CCTV footage and speeding fine you clocked up will see to that.’ Emphasising the ‘you’, Jade thought it better to leave out the one or two other sordid activities the disgraced detective inspector would be charged with.

‘CCTV?’ Dylan whispered, aghast.

‘They do have cameras in red-light districts, Dylan,’ Jade pointed out. ‘But don’t worry, you’re the same colouring and height as him. And if anyone should ask, not that they will, I’ll vouch for you, obviously.’

‘Will you?’ Dylan asked, sounding like an uncertain child.

‘Of course, my love. I couldn’t have done any of this without you. We’ll be free soon. Together forever. But you have to keep your head and do everything I tell you.’

‘I will. I am,’ Dylan replied defensively. ‘It’s just…’

‘Just what?’ Jade felt a prickle of apprehension.

Dylan went quiet again. Jade contemplated garrotting him. ‘Daisy,’ he blurted out. ‘I’m worried about her. She—’

‘Oh, she’s fine,’ Jade assured him airily. ‘We’ll all be together soon.’ She glossed over that inconsequential problem in favour of changing the subject. ‘How’s Angel?’

‘Still sleeping,’ Dylan said. Jade could hear the bed squeaking under his huge bulk, which meant he was checking on her. ‘She looks pale though,’ he added worriedly. ‘I think she needs a bit of fresh air. Me mum always said a bit of fresh air would put the colour back in my cheeks.’

‘Dylan…’ Jade tried very hard not to scream.

‘I could take her to my house as well, if you like. It wouldn’t matter if she cried there, and—’

‘Dylan! No!’ Jade stopped him in his excited flow, and then sighed inwardly as Poppy’s bedroom door squeaked open. She scowled at the child, who was peering at her through the crack in the door with one eye. It was like something from a horror movie, it really was. ‘I have to go. If she wakes up, just give her more Calpol,’ she said to Dylan, and rang off.

Poppy backed away as Jade advanced towards the door, as if she were some kind of evil witch.

Irked, Jade thrust the door open and marched in. The room was an absolute pigsty, as usual, spoiled little brat. ‘Your mother wants you in the bedroom.’ She gestured her that way. ‘And behave.’ She glowered at the girl as she skirted around her, her silly Peppa Pig clutched babyishly to her chest. ‘Or I’ll eat your fucking goldfish.’





Seventy-Two





MARK





‘For Christ’s sake, they’re websites!’ Sweat prickling his forehead and saturating his shirt, Mark dragged his hands exasperatedly over his face and got to his feet. ‘Anyone could have accessed them!’ He looked desperately from Edwards, seated at his desk, his expression impassive, to Cummings, who’d laughably been drafted in to question him.

‘Right.’ Folding his arms, Cummings exchanged meaningful glances with Edwards. ‘And the image of your daughter? Someone accessed your computer to post that too, I suppose.’

Attempting to control his temper, Mark clamped his jaw tight. He could already hear the cell door clanging shut behind him. ‘That was not taken by me!’ he said, his patience fast evaporating. Could they not see the fucking obvious here? That, if he hadn’t taken it, then someone else had. Someone who had access to his family and his home computer. Someone who undoubtedly now had his daughter. What the hell was the matter with them?

‘Yeah, you said.’ Shaking his head, Cummings looked him over scathingly. ‘So, leaving the Category A pornographic images of kids aside for the moment, since we’re clearly not getting the right answers, perhaps you could explain this?’ He picked up a piece of paper and dangled it in Mark’s direction. ‘And, just so you know, “it wasn’t me” won’t cut it.’

Mark noted the colour of the form, green. ‘A speeding fine?’

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