The present
Imogen stumbled around the bathroom in the morning half-light. She thought about running herself a hot bath, but she didn’t want to lie in the water looking at the remnants of her stomach wound. Since leaving Plymouth, she’d found baths harder, preferring to shower so that she couldn’t see her body. Although the scar was pink and faded she liked to pretend it wasn’t there. The scar wasn’t the only thing: if she looked down, she could just see the bullet wound she’d sustained in the schoolteacher case too. It had healed in the last few weeks, forming a neat plum circle. Somehow, that one hurt less; it didn’t give her the same amount of trauma as the injury she’d sustained in Plymouth. She closed her eyes, the memory of what had happened rushing back. Leaving Plymouth. Transferring to Exeter. Sam. The scar.
Imogen turned on the shower. She had to keep going. These days, she spent hours every morning smacking the shit out of the punching bag she’d installed in her garden. Rain or shine, she was out there kicking and punching her way back to work. Still, she couldn’t look at herself until the towel was securely around her, hiding her embarrassment. Twice now she had almost been killed. Twice she had failed at her job. Twice she had needed rescuing. Never again. She picked up her baggy combat trousers and loose-fitting raglan t-shirt and got ready for work.
When Imogen arrived at Adrian’s house there was no answer. She knew he was home; his bike was still chained up to the front railings. She banged on the door again and saw the blinds upstairs twitch before hearing thumping on the stairs. The door swung open and he appeared, shielding his eyes from the sunlight that poured through the door.
‘Have a good night?’ She smiled. Adrian groaned.
‘What time is it?’
‘Time to go, Miley, get dressed.’ She looked down at his trousers, pulled up but not done up, socks and shirt in his hand.
‘How’s my car?’ Adrian had given Imogen his car after crashing in her own at the end of the last case they’d worked on together. The sort of thing Sam would never have done. Adrian was a better partner in so many ways.
‘Hideous, Miley, but I do appreciate it. I need to get something a little less middle-aged-travelling-salesman though.’
‘You leave her alone.’ He pulled his shirt over his head, still buttoned up from the day before.
‘I’m going car shopping this weekend; you’re welcome to help me out.’ Imogen heard the toilet flush upstairs and Miles looked away sheepishly. Imogen raised an eyebrow. She knew exactly what had made him sleep in late this morning. He pulled on his boots and grabbed his keys.
‘I think I’ve got Tom this weekend.’
‘Bring him along, he probably knows more about cars than you.’
‘Hey! I’ve taught my son everything he knows.’
‘If you say so.’ She walked over to his car and got in.
‘Didn’t you lock it?’ Miles asked.
‘Trust me, I could leave the engine running and the door open and no one would steal this piece of crap, Miley. No offence.’
Adrian and Imogen walked into the station to find DCI Fraser trying to catch their attention without anyone else noticing, raising his eyebrows at them across the room. He looked so shifty that they couldn’t help smirking at each other. Fraser was one of the few people that Adrian trusted, as much as he trusted anyone. Not quite unconditionally, but there was an innocence about him, with his constantly raised eyebrows as if he had just been told something very surprising indeed and he just couldn’t wait to tell the next person he bumped into, confidentiality be damned. Upon entering his office they closed the door.
‘Forensics are down by the river at the moment scouring the place. There’s a lot of pressure from above to find this Bridget girl in one piece. Apart from anything else, we have a lot of questions for her.’
‘What’s with all the subterfuge?’
‘I know your ex-partner has a vested interest in this, Imogen … I mean, Grey … and I know he thinks he’s heading the investigation, but he isn’t. For starters, her being his girlfriend means that he’s way too close to this, and secondly, we don’t know his involvement at this point. The fact is, we have to treat him as a suspect in her disappearance.’
‘I think that’s wise, sir,’ Imogen snorted.
‘I don’t know exactly what happened at your old station, Grey …’ He looked at Adrian.
‘It’s OK. You can talk in front of him.’
‘I know you claimed that DS Brown was instrumental in an attack you sustained and I know about the restraining order. If you don’t want him in this office, I can arrange for him to come for briefings when you’re out. I wish I could keep him away altogether but we need to keep him close, at least for the time being. We need to find DS Reid.’
‘No, it’s fine. I can deal with it.’ She looked embarrassed at this concession. ‘But thank you.’
‘So what’s the plan then, Fraser?’ Adrian asked, trying to divert the attention away from Imogen.
‘The plan is we find her. They’ve gone over the riverbank near the pub where she was supposed to meet Brown, but they can’t see anything. A car was reported stolen near her place and found near the river – we’re just confirming the forensics but it looks as though it was definitely her. We’re looking a bit nearer to the bank now as she was most likely on foot the rest of the way.’
‘What about us? What do we do?’
‘The usual. Go over her phone records. Request any private CCTV footage from the area. Sam said she had a camera set up in her room to record stuff going on, in case she had a run in with anyone important. I will liaise with Brown, so any information you get comes to me first, OK?’
‘I thought all her Johns were fake? Informants and plants.’
‘We’re a bit blind at the moment. All we have are second-hand accounts of what went on. The tech guys have her laptop, so you can go see Gary Tunney if you want.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Oh, and just to let you know, Tunney’s transfer is official as of next week. He will be our very own computer forensic nerd. With us full time.’ He gave them a thumbs up.
‘Good to know,’ Adrian said as they left, heading straight for the laptop.
The present
‘What have you found?’ Adrian asked Tunney, who was fiddling around with Bridget Reid’s computer.
‘Well, she had a motion-activated camera in the brothel, so every time she, or anyone else, came into the room the camera switched on, recorded what happened, and sent the info straight back to this hard drive, which is time and date stamped. It’s more sophisticated than a lot of surveillance equipment, and from looking around on her laptop I can see that she knew her way around technology. Which obviously helps us out.’
‘Did you know her?’ Imogen asked.
‘She came to my lab once, yeah, she was a smart cookie.’
‘Let’s not use past tense just yet,’ Adrian interjected.
‘So did you watch