Staring at the mother and child, Helen felt mystified by their bond, or more accurately, terrified by it.How did you look after them properly?How did you teach them, guide them, chastise them?Helen had never been given the manual, let alone taught any of the rules, having little in the way of extended family.Since she was a teenager she had been isolated, abandoned, a lone rock in a swirling river.Police work had given her a sense of purpose and she had thrived in the safely of its solid, practical constraints.Yes, her chosen career had often put her in grave danger, but it had also made her, allowing her to flourish in the service of others.Now that her career was over, was she suddenlysupposed to embrace a new path, finding contentment in the role of new mother?
No, it was impossible.Even putting aside the fact that she had no proper role models to emulate, nor any practical experience of parenting, she was far too old.Following through with the pregnancy could potentially put her life in danger and certainly posed serious dangers to the baby.It would be selfish to pursue the pregnancy, especially as she had never wanted to be a mother in the first place.She lived alone in a top-floor flat, was in a fledgling relationship with a man she hardly knew and had no obvious means of financially supporting herself or her family.No, it was madness to even consider it.
And yet the responsibility was not hers alone, hence her visit this morning.She had no expectation that Christopher would be overjoyed by her news, but she knew she was honour-bound to tell him.Perhaps it was his fault, perhaps he’d accidentally ripped a hole in the condom, but it was more likely hers, given her failure to take any precautions herself, wrongly assuming that she was too old to conceive.It was beholden on her now to own her mistake, deliver her bombshell and then try to work out what to do.Helen thought she knew the answer already, but part of her wanted to hearhimsay it.
Across the road, a young receptionist had opened the office door to greet a courier, so Helen took this as her cue, crossing quickly and slipping inside.The foyer was impressive, all granite surfaces and fresh cut flowers, but she didn’t linger to admire the view, marching swiftly up to the front desk.
‘Good morning.Is Christopher Palmer in?’Helen enquired genially.
‘And your name is?’the smiling receptionist returned formally.
‘DI Helen Grace.’
Instantly, the receptionist’s expression changed, as recognition took hold.
‘Oh, I see.Is it a professional call then, DI Grace …?’
‘No, it’s personal.Is he in?’
‘Well, yes, but …’
‘Great, I’ll see myself up.’
‘Hold on a minute, you can’t just …’
But Helen was already on the move, swinging a leg over the barrier, before continuing on her way to the lift.Christopher had often complained to her about his poky second-floor office, so hurrying into the lift, Helen stabbed the button for that floor.The receptionist was already haring after her, but Helen’s head start proved decisive, the doors kissing shut before she could intercept her.Moments later, she was striding along the corridor on the second floor, desperately scanning for Christopher’s name plate.Marching towards her down the corridor was a rosy-cheeked fifty-something man in an overly tight, striped shirt.
‘Christopher Palmer?’Helen enquired with a smile.
‘Last office on the left.Are you a friend of his or …?’
He was clearly keen to talk, struck by the sight of an athletic woman in biking leathers, but waving her thanks, Helen continued on her way, until she came to the end of the corridor.Taking in the name plate – Christopher Palmer, Senior Analyst – she took a breath, then after a smart knock, stepped inside.
‘Sorry to burst in on you like this …’
Helen petered out, disappointed to discover that the room was empty.This was not in the plan at all.Would she even get to see Christopher before she was ejected?Casting a wary eye out into the corridor, she shut the door gently behind her, retreating inside.Her lover was not here, but clearlywasin the building, his jacket gracing his chair and a cup of coffee steaming on the desk.There was nothing to do but wait, so cracking her knuckles,she paced the room, taking in the small, but swanky office.There was clearly more money in financial scams and cybercrimes than in regular policing, the office smartly decorated and impressively appointed.A glass coffee table nestled by a smart leather three-piece suite, there were well-stocked bookcases on two walls, and a brand-new desk in front of an ultra-modern, ergonomic chair.Helen bent her steps in that direction now, taking in the large iMac computer, the vase of peonies and next to that a smart, framed photo.
Helen stared at the image, at first confused, then enraged.Christopher was his usual handsome self, beaming with happiness, in an elegant lounge suit, a white carnation in his buttonhole.
And next to him, swathed in reams of bridal lace, was his beautiful wife.
Chapter 44
‘You lied to me, you piece of shit.’
Emilia glared at her father, fighting hard to swallow down her rising emotion.She refused to let this worthless toad see how upset she was, would not give him that satisfaction.What he deserved was her righteous outrage.
‘This whole thing was a set-up from the start.Asking me to come here alone, to visit Louisa, it was all part of your plan to get your hands on that gold.’
‘Emilia, please, not so loud,’ her father protested, casting a nervous look at the loitering prison guard.
‘Are you kidding me?’the journalist demanded, raising her voice.‘I want the whole world to know what you’ve done.You used me again, your own flesh and blood, to spring a bloodyheist.’
‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘It wasexactlylike that.You manipulated me, put me in danger, all because of your greed.’
‘I had no choice, Emilia.’
