Shallow Waters (26 page)

91

Martin,
Ross and Nima were searching the kitchen and dining area when I pushed
through the door from the living room. I nearly knocked Martin over as
I barged in, but Martin, on seeing my face, made no comment on my lack
of apology. Ross and Nima looked puzzled.

“Where's Sally?” 

Nima's look changed to one of confusion. “She went outside to check an external door a few minutes ago. Is everything okay?”

I
didn't wait to answer. My concern had ratcheted up a few notches and I
had a bad feeling creeping in. Maybe it was the panic in Tom's voice
causing me to be so openly stressed, or the anger at myself for not
knowing she was pregnant, or not pushing her more when I did know that
something was bothering her. I was also angry with her for pulling the
wool over my eyes. Doubt and fear travelled the nape of my neck and
into my scalp.

I
pushed past Ross. I swung the rear door open so hard the single paned
glass window gave with the force I'd pushed it into the wall with. It
cracked and shattered, hitting the floor with a sound like tinkling
bells. I still didn't stop. I needed to find her. Where the hell was
she? I looked to my right and saw nothing but a neatly mowed lawn,
dying a little in the poor weather conditions. I looked to my left and
saw the second door Nima had mentioned. It wasn't fully closed. I saw
light coming from the bottom of the stairs.

“Sally?” I shouted as I started down the stairs sinking deep under the house.

92

She
knew what it was as soon as she felt it. The cold slicing its way
through her neck. Bringing in the very core of the damp held by the
underground hole she was in. Sally brought up her right hand, a
slippery warmth under her fingers. Her eyes sought out the girl, who
held her gaze, not flinching. She tried to call for help but no sound
came other than a small gurgling she didn't recognise. Still the girl
held her gaze.

Sally
slid off her heels and leaned into the cage allowing it to hold her up.
With her left hand she felt around her waist for her radio and tugged
at the aerial poking up from her pocket. It didn't move. She needed to
keep one hand on her neck. She tugged again, her shoulder leaning into
the cage, giving something to help push against. Her pocket gave and
she held the radio in her hand. The radio clicked as she frantically
transmitted but no sound came from her. She realised all she could do
was sit with the girl. She wouldn't leave her now. Sally turned her
head slightly, looking for the risk, but movement felt difficult and
disjointed. Darkness was playing with the corners of her vision.

Through
the blurring edges she could see the woman held some kind of large
kitchen knife. The light from the overhead bulb bounced from its blade.
Spiking patterns through the darkness. Pretty. She was cold but warmth
oozed down her chest. She relaxed into it a little. The fingers of her
left hand now curled around the wire of the cage, keeping the child
safe. Her other hand, asp long forgotten, held onto the wound.

“You
fucking crazy maniacs,” the woman hissed. “Think you can come into our
home and invade our privacy like this. You wait until Donovan knows. He
will sort this out. You'll be sorry.” The blade waved in front of her
like a sharp silver and red barrier, but Sally wouldn't be going near
it. She had the child. She'd done her job. She had to hold on until
help got there, then the girl would be safe. She heard her name being
called. She tried again to cry out, the only sound little bubbles
popping in her throat. The crazy woman waving the shiny blade at her
wasn't moving. Sally knew the best place for her was to sit here. With
the girl. She was with the girl. She'd found her.

93

The
stairs were steep and narrow. As I tried to get down the concave
concrete steps, I fell, my elbow slamming hard into the damp wall as I
struggled to stay upright. I swore as I righted myself and continued
down. What the hell was I about to walk into? What had Sally walked
into? The damp played with my nostrils and seeped into my bones adding
to the sense of dread. I heard a high pitched voice scream out from
behind the wooden door at the foot of the stairs.

I
ratcheted my asp by flicking it out in front of me. The concertinaed
metal bars snapped into their locked position. The tip of the asp hit
the wall in the narrow space and it echoed around me. My fist wrapped
around the handle, I pushed on the door in front of me. The basement
was set up with furniture. Sally was down, slumped against a small cage
in the middle of the room. I couldn't see past her into the cage and I
didn't have time to check. A woman I didn't recognise stood over her.
She had a wild look. My mind made the links between the wide-eyed
twitching woman in front of me and the perfectly manicured and groomed
host I'd previously met, Evelyn Manders. Donovan's wife. She waved a
knife erratically. Sally barely reacting on the ground. The woman was
screaming but words were difficult to make out. I looked harder and saw
a bright red stain down Sally's shirt, seeping down to her stab vest.
My heart jumped, filling my throat, constricting the airway. I raised
my asp to shoulder height.

“Evelyn. Drop the knife.”

Her attention moved from Sally to me, the knife still dancing in front of her. I needed to draw her away. Sally looked bad.

“I will not. This is my home. How dare you!” Her voice shook. The knife quivered in her hand.

“Evelyn. Drop the knife! Now!” I commanded.

She
lurched forward towards Sally again. I pulled my elbow back and powered
through with the asp as I stepped forward. Evelyn curled around
quickly, a loud scream going up. My asp was halfway there when a
searing pain sliced its way through my upper arm. My arm dropped but
the instinct and training to survive kicked in. I pushed back hard
again and slammed the asp down, contact with Evelyn’s shoulder
vibrating through my arm. She fell to the floor screaming. The knife
dropped with a soft thwack as it hit the carpet.

I
looked at Sally. I needed to get to her. To stop the bleeding. But
first I had to secure Evelyn Manders. I reached to my waist for my
cuffs but they weren't there. I'd already used them on Donovan. I
kicked the knife away and kept a foot on a writhing Evelyn as I leaned
over and down to Sally, her eyes nearly closed. I saw a flicker of
recognition. I ran my hand around her waist until I found her cuffs and
pulled at them. Sally slid a little further down the cage. Evelyn moved
to knock me off balance and I kicked out. The tip of my boot made
contact with something soft that gave under the pressure and the scream
went up again. Once I had the cuffs in my hand I turned to Evelyn. She
was on her side, wailing. I pulled and rolled her so she was face down.
I leaned down hard on her. She gave little resistance but the keening
sound continued. As I pulled both her arms back I felt her stiffen
beneath me and she screamed.

“You fucking evil bitch. Get off me. Get off!”

I
yanked harder, ripping her shoulders back and locking her wrists
together behind her as she lay on her front screaming. Pain erupted
through me, blood streamed down my arm, my ribs pulled tight and took
my breath away. Sucking in, I crawled to Sally. I pushed both of my
hands onto her neck, releasing Sally's own weak grip on the wound. The
white of the fat beneath her skin unfurled like a flower. I pressed
harder. Blood seeped through my fingers. I couldn't use my radio to
call for help. I needed both hands to stop the flow of blood from
Sally's neck. I screamed loud and hard trying to be heard over the
banshee sound of Evelyn Manders.

“Help! Officer down! Help!”

94

Sally
heard screaming. Maybe it wasn't someone screaming. It was faint and
distant, like she was listening through water. Nothing felt sharp or in
focus and she strained against the muted feel, but nothing was coming
through. Her arm felt heavy as she held it up to her neck. The feeling
in her hand was fading. Something told her it was important to leave
her hand where it was, no matter how heavy her arm got.

She
thought about Tom. About the baby. Their family. Then she thought about
the reasons that had brought her here, to this point. She thought about
the girl, the child. She'd found her. It was something her own child
could be proud of. The weight on her arm pulled more. Tom would be
angry. He would be angry that she was hurt and that she had put herself
in that position. She loved him so much and she wanted their family
more than anything. But she couldn't have done, could she? Look at her
now. On the floor, leaning on a wire dog cage, designed to hold small
creatures, to keep them safe. She was attempting to protect a child,
but in this state what could she actually do? What would Tom make of
her decision when he found out? She hoped he would still love her. It
hurt to think he wouldn't love her any more. She'd make it up to him.
They'd talk about the baby. She would buy a name book and spend
evenings curled up on the sofa with him arguing about what kind of name
they would have. Old and beautiful like Emily or modern and up to date
like India. A beautiful name but Tom was old fashioned. She would love
the bickering. They had the time to bicker. Seven whole months ahead of
them. If Tom could forgive her this mistake. She curled her fingertips
tighter round the wire she was leaning on, hoping the movement would
reassure the child within. She couldn't maintain eye contact or voice
her reassurance. All she had to offer the girl was a fingertip squeeze
and she hoped it was enough. She couldn't tell if there was any
response or movement from within.

Sounds
dulled. The room around her darkened, the chill invasive. She was aware
of someone with her now. She tried to acknowledge them, but she
couldn’t move. She was so tired, so very tired. She'd sort this mess
out later. Now she needed to rest. Just a short rest. Tom would still
love her wouldn't he? Sally let go.

95

Blue
and red lights sliced through the night as I sat on the step at the
rear of the ambulance. My arm was outstretched as a paramedic stitched
before wrapping a bandage around it. Words of advice were being spoken
but I couldn't hear them. The lights bounced around inside my head and
only single words such as hospital and surgery broke through. A
concerned look accompanied the words. I had no response.

I'd
watched as the girl from the cage was brought out in a chair with a red
blanket covering her small, frail frame. Eyes flickered around her in
an otherwise still body. The street was a hive of activity. Police dogs
were out, pulling on tight leashes, uniformed officers were knocking on
doors and the street was cordoned off. CSI's had pulled up and were
suiting up and preparing themselves to enter the home of Donovan and
Evelyn Manders. A home where, at first glance, you would see a small
family living daily life and going about their business and causing no
concern to the neighbours. In fact, I doubted, the neighbours would
even know who lived in that house. The ambulance carrying the child had
taken off from the scene with its sirens wailing, a mournful sound. A
sound that would carry an echo of the evening through the heart of
everyone present.

Aaron
approached, his tie undone and hanging from his trouser pocket. “The
search team are reporting an office of well filed transactions, names
and photographs of children, email addresses, meeting places of
offenders and payments to Jesse. It shouldn't take us long to identify
the girl now.” There was no preamble or emotion. “They ran a well-oiled
machine and it looks like it has been going on for some time. Martin
has gone with Caroline Manders to the hospital in another ambulance.
Children's services are aware and will meet them there. She was perched
on her bed listening to all the noise. She's not talking to us. It
seems they've had her well trained to keep quiet and not react to
anything.” He spoke clearly, giving the facts and the facts alone.
“There are a few photographs of Rosie in her school uniform. It looks
like they were getting her ready to be moved on and prepared for what
that entailed before she even went missing. It explains the troublesome
behaviour that started just prior, that no one understood.”

I looked at him. He didn't move. He waited.

“Thank
you Aaron.” He was what I needed to get through this right now. Here
was not the place to break. The lights continued to flash and my head
pulsed with them.

“Catherine is on her way.”

“I'd
expect so.” The paramedic taped the bandage and walked away as we
stumbled through the conversation. I rested my hand limply in my lap.

“Sally has been left where she is. Scenes of crime will want to process the scene with her there.” His tone was matter-of-fact.

Tears
sprang to my eyes, unwanted, and I fought to keep them back. I clenched
my teeth, locked my jaw tight and stared at the floor. I took a deep
breath and looked back at Aaron. He said not a word. The phone in my
pocket rang again. Tom.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” Aaron asked.

I
took another deep breath. I had work to do. “No. Thanks, Aaron. Give me
a few minutes to talk to people here, then I'll go and see him.” I
clicked
answer
on my phone as I walked towards the house.