Page 101 of The Girl in the Woods

‘I’m making tea,’ he called. ‘Then I’ll be in. You start watching.’

Tim wasn’t interested in the drama. He’d pretended to be to please his mother. But he wasn’t into detective programmes.

‘If you’re sure,’ said Vanessa, who had been looking forward to the final episode all day.

‘I’ll watch it later on catch-up,’ he called.

While Tim washed up and made tea, Vanessa wrapped a blanket around her knees and turned on the TV. The drama, as anticipated, had an exciting final episode. Vanessa became so entranced that she barely noticed the tea and bourbons Tim placed in front of her.

‘Good is it?’ He smiled.

‘You’re missing a great episode.’

‘I’m just going to print out a few invoices. You enjoy.’

She vaguely heard Tim tapping on the computer and talking on the phone, but his words didn’t register.

Vanessa became so enthralled that her tea grew cold and she forgot the bourbons. As the show’s final minutes ended, Vanessa gasped and yelled, ‘Tim, Tim.’

Tim hurried into the living room, almost tripping over the hall rug.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked worriedly.

‘It was a woman,’ she said excitedly.

He glanced at the TV screen, bemused. ‘A good ending then?’ he remarked.

‘No. You don’t understand. The person who hit me. I remember now. It was a woman. Something in the programme reminded me. Penny said she heard a squeak when the driver opened the door, but it wasn’t the door. I remember it was a woman wailing. The driver was a woman, Tim.’

Tim’s face lit up. ‘You’re sure about that?’

Vanessa nodded. ‘Oh yes. Something in the programme brought it flooding back.’

Tim grabbed his mobile. ‘We should let Constable Rawlins know.’

He arrived on time. It didn’t surprise Ana. She opened the door and immediately smelt his aftershave. She wanted to laugh but fought back the urge. It was typical of him to think there was something on offer. Such a fucking huge ego. As if she’d ever consider sex with him. The thought of it made her nauseous again.

‘You’ve got a fancy gaff,’ he said, looking around. ‘Too fancy for a copper’s wages.’ She heard the suspicion in his voice.

‘It’s not mine. I’m house-sitting for a friend,’ she said, turning on the music player. ‘Until I find something I can afford.’

‘Rich friend,’ he said, impressed. ‘Open-plan, nice. What does this friend do then?’

‘He’s a property developer. A friend of my dad’s,’ she lied. It was almost laughable, considering she hadn’t seen her dad in years and didn’t for one moment think he’d have a property developer friend.

If only they all knew how she’d blown all her savings on this place for one reason and one reason alone.

‘I’d offer you a beer, but I’m all out,’ she said, filling two glasses with fruit juice. It had only been a short time since she took the last lot of painkillers. It felt like a Zulu dance was going on inside her head. The more stressed she became, the worse it got.

‘I’m supposed to be on duty anyway. Quiet night, luckily,’ he said, and she felt his breath on her neck.

He was close, too close.

She turned quickly, pretending she was unaware of his presence. He stumbled backwards, and she walked past him to a chair. There was no way she was going to risk sitting on the sofa with him.

‘Bit late for a chat,’ he said, a half smile on his face.

‘I’m sure the station can cope.’ She smiled.

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