Page 22 of Dying Breath
‘Let me have a shower and some food before you go upsetting me.’
Ellie rolled her eyes, but smiled. She went back into the living room, where MTV was on the television. She lowered the sound and went into the kitchen to dish up the food.
Lucy came down wrapped in a fluffy cream dressing gown with a towel around her damp hair. She walked into the kitchen and sat on one of the stools at the breakfast bar, ready to devour the plate of food that Ellie had placed in front of her.
‘Do you want a glass of wine?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m too knackered. I’ll be asleep before I finish my lunch, tea, supper. So what is it you wanted to ask me?’
Ellie paused for a few seconds, then blurted it out. ‘You know Fern? Her parents are going on a cruise and she doesn’t want to go on her own so they’ve said she can take a friend with her. Please can I go? Dad said I could, but he said I had to clear it with you first.’
Lucy, who had just shoved a huge forkful of noodles into her mouth, was grateful for the few extra seconds to compose herself. Bloody George would say it was okay. She didn’t know if she was happy about her daughter going off on a cruise.
‘Please don’t freak out about it, Mum, it’s just a ten-day cruise around the Mediterranean. There won’t be any pirates to come on board the boat to kidnap us and the last time I looked you and Dad weren’t Liam Neeson, so it’s not likeTaken4is going to happen.’
Lucy couldn’t help it and began to laugh. ‘Ellie, don’t be so cheeky. I’m not freaking out. Well, maybe a little. I don’t really know Fern or her parents – I’d worry about you.’
‘Yes you would and it’s okay that you do, but Dad and Rosie know them really well.’
‘I’ll speak to your dad tomorrow. If he says its okay then its okay with me.’
‘Really? You don’t want to have an argument about it?’
She stared at her daughter, who was turning into quite the beautiful young woman.
‘No, I don’t want an argument about it. I want you to be happy.’
Ellie squealed and ran to Lucy, wrapping her arms around her mother as she planted a huge kiss on her cheek. ‘I promise I’ll be good. I won’t fall overboard and drown.’
‘Well, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t.’
‘Can I go and phone Fern and tell her it’s a ninety-nine point five per cent chance of me going?’
Lucy nodded and Ellie screeched once more and skipped off to find her phone. She carried on eating her food – she needed something inside her and then she was going to bed. Lucy’s phone vibrated on the kitchen counter next to her and she glanced down at it. She read Stephen’s new message and sighed, wondering if she’d been too hasty in calling it a day. Or whether she should send Browning round to his house to warn him off. The only problem with that particular solution was the fact that the whole station would find out because he wasn’t very good at being discreet. The last thing she wanted was to become the object of gossip, she’d given them plenty to talk about the last couple of years without adding to it.
Yes, she wanted a life outside work, but not if it meant turning it into a full-time job just to make it worthwhile. At least she could concentrate on Stacey Green and Melanie Benson’s murders without feeling guilty about the time she wasn’t spending with Stephen.
Chapter Twenty
Lucy was first into the station again – it was a habit that was hard to break. She was standing with her arms crossed staring at the two whiteboards; one had a photograph of Melanie Benson the other Stacey Green. If this were a television show they would have worked out the killers’ motives, found matching DNA and have whoever it was behind bars. That was if thereweretwo killers.
A thorough search of the backstreet and all the refuse bins and skips had failed to produce Stacey Green’s shoes, which really bothered Lucy. Task force had done a Section 18 search of Lewis Waite’s last known address, which belonged to one of his fellow drug users, but nothing remotely resembling a bloodstained hammer – which was the weapon that had killed Melanie, according to Catherine – or any size seven female shoes had been found. Coincidentally, both victims had this shoe size. When questioned, Mattie had told her he’d believed Waite when he’d vehemently denied knowing anyone called Melanie Benson. He’d been shown her picture and his body language hadn’t betrayed him as he’d shaken his head.
So that left her with a very big problem. The bosses wanted Waite charged before the time they were allowed to hold him in custody ran out, which was making this difficult for her. Lucy knew from experience that motive could be very hard to determine. There could be several reasons behind the murders, and it wasn’t unheard of for a killer to evolve with each kill. There was no point even trying to second-guess what it could be. What they needed to focus on was the killer or killers’ behaviour at the scene. What linked the two scenes? To Lucy it was blatantly obvious; the killer might have used different modus operandi to murder his victims – and what was the placement of the sanitary towel about? – but he’d taken both women’s shoes, either on a whim or for a premeditated purpose. Lucy had to question Waite herself; she needed to get a handle on him. Her gut instinct was that this killer was far cleverer – way above his level of intelligence.
Tom ran into the incident room and slammed the door behind him. His cheeks were burning and he looked as if he were about to commit murder himself.
‘Have you got your radio on?’
‘Yes, but it’s on low. Why?’
‘They’ve lost Lewis Waite.’
‘Oh my God, he’s dead?’
‘If only. No, he’s done a runner from the hospital; the stupid idiots left him unattended because there was a big kick-off in the A&E waiting room. He just slipped out of there like a fucking ghost – probably walked straight past the bloody muppets, who were fighting with a load of pissed-up Geordies on a stag do.’
Lucy grabbed her radio and turned it up to full volume. She could hear the breathless panic in the officers’ voices. They were now doing area searches to try to locate Lewis Waite. It was early morning; the night shift had stayed on to help with the search. Lucy ran towards the stairs and down to the duty sergeant’s office. Smithy, who should have been going home, was pulling on his body armour and shouting orders into his radio.
