Hurt (The Hurt Series) (38 page)

She recalled a speech she had given Chloe a lifetime ago about not running away from her problems. Being only ten years old at the time, Chloe had listened intently. The problem in question was a couple of girls at school who were picking on her. Chloe had started to bunk off school in fear of the girls. Jessop understood, but could not condone her actions.

‘You want me to have a word with their parents?’ she had asked her daughter.

‘God, no!’ had come the startled reply.

‘Your teacher, then?’

‘No!’

‘What about I talk to the girls?’

‘Jeez, mum. What’re you trying to do to me?’

‘Help you, sweetie.’

‘Well just leave it alone, then.’

‘Okay. But you have to start going back to school.’

‘But
they’ll
be there still.’

‘So running away hasn’t helped, has it?’

‘No, but − ’

‘In fact, it’s made the problem worse, because now the girls know you’re scared.’

‘Oh, great.’

‘So the only way to beat them is to show them they don’t scare you.’

‘You mean…by fighting them?’

‘No. I mean by not letting them push you out of school. I promise you, the more they see your face, the quicker they’ll get bored of it.’

Chloe had looked sceptical, but as always, had taken her mother’s advice. Three weeks, and not one missed school day, later Chloe informed her the bullies had moved onto Tina Sachs.

‘And what’s Tina doing about it?’ she had asked.

‘Dunno. She hasn’t been in school the last couple of days.’

‘You know where she lives?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Maybe you should go have a little word with her.’

Chloe had pondered this for all of a second before giving her mum a big hug and scurrying away to get her bike. Back then Jessop was full of sage advice. If only now she could take some herself. Because as hard as she had been trying to justify the impulsive getaway to herself, she could not convince herself that it was anything but running away from the problem.

Chambers may have sounded sincere in his goodbye speech, but until he was caught or dead his shadow would constantly eclipse her life. And as old and mature as she was, she made no
excuse
for contradicting her younger self and running away.

‘Sorry I was such a bitch to you before,’ came a mumbled voice from the passenger seat.

She glanced at her daughter, tapping her foot on the glove box in time with a beat only she could hear in her head. ‘You’re only saying that because I’m taking you on holiday.’

‘Depends where you’re taking us. If the temperature’s not above thirty then I’ll take the apology back.’

‘It’s up to you and Vicky where we go. That way I wash my hands of all responsibility for the weather.’

Chloe suppressed a smile. A warmth enveloped Jessop, a feeling of worth she hadn’t felt in a long while. She had spent so long being a cop first and a mother second she’d forgotten how nice it felt taking back responsibility for her daughter. And more importantly, being allowed to. She may have made light of Chloe’s apology but that was for her daughter’s sake, to spare her from the needless shame she’d been harbouring. Needless, because she had every right to be a bitch after her mother had withheld Ray’s illness from her. The apology was a mark of maturity that filled Jessop with even more pride for her daughter. It was also Chloe’s way of saying she still needed her mum, now more than ever.

Chloe may be eighteen, and she may be forty-three, but there were still bigger girls and boys out there ready to push them from life’s playground.

And this one time, she was more than happy to let them.

Chapter
One-hundred and six

‘Okay,’ Chloe announced. ‘Heads, Alicante. Tails, Cyprus.’

Jessop surveyed the departures board in the eerily quiet terminal. Both flights left around midnight, and both had spare seats. Personally, she didn’t care which side the pound coin landed.

Vicky flipped the coin and slapped it on the back of her hand. Both girls shared a mischievous look. ‘What do you want it to be?’ Vicky asked Chloe.

Chloe squinted, clucking her tongue in thought. ‘Tails. Cyprus.’

‘Me too,’ Vicky agreed. ‘Ready?’

‘Uh-huh.’

Vicky revealed the coin and the Queen’s head. Both girls sighed.

‘Alicante it is, then,’ Jessop said, to which she was fixed cold with two frowns. ‘What?’

‘You really think we’re going to let fate decide where we go?’ Chloe draped an arm around Vicky’s shoulder. ‘We are the masters of our own fate, mother. And we say Cyprus.’

Jessop shrugged. ‘Okay. Can I have my pound back, then?’

Chloe rolled her eyes, handed over the coin just as Jessop’s mobile rang. She checked the caller ID: Davies. ‘Alright, girls, go and check in. I’ll be there in a sec.’ She waited until the girls were out of ear shot before answering the phone.

‘Everything okay?’ Davies asked.

For now, she thought, bracing herself for the imminent news. ‘Fine. What you got?’

‘That phone number you gave me was registered to a prepaid mobile. No name and no contract to trace, I’m afraid.’

Her grip on her phone tightened. ‘Has it been used since?’

‘No. It was only used the once, to text you.’

She thought of the message, and its significance. Her skin crawled. ‘Any idea where it was bought?’

‘Uh-huh. The Tesco down Portman Road.’

‘When?’

‘Two days ago.’

As if reading her mind, Davies said, ‘I take it you would like me to check the shop’s CCTV for that day, right?’

‘I’d appreciate it, Tom.’

‘What with the time of year and all that, it won’t be for a couple of days.’

She looked at her girls, weighing their bags at the empty check-in counter. As weary as they were, the relief of a couple of weeks in the sun could not be hidden in their faces as they handed over their passports.

‘Not a problem,’ she said, feeling the same relief. She may be running away from Chambers and whoever had sent her the text, but they were not her priorities right now, the girls were. And she was damn happy to be able to admit it. ‘And thanks again, Tom.’

‘Have a good ’un, yeah?’

Yeah, she intended to.

Chapter
One-hundred and seven

Larnaca Cyprus

Tuesday, December 26
^th

5.18pm local time.(3.18pm GMT).

All agreed the four and a half hour flight felt more like four and a half minutes. As soon as they had strapped into their seats they had all fallen asleep, and had remained that way until it was time to buckle up for landing. Neither of the three had unbuckled from take off.

The hotel was the closest they could find to Larnaca airport without actually being in the town of Larnaca itself. Situated just 10 kilometres from the town, The Princess Beach was indeed on the beach, and had vacant clean rooms worthy of the hotel’s four star rating.

Chloe and Vicky chose to share a room, despite Jessop’s offer of a room each. Understandably, the girls had become inseparable, and it warmed her heart to think they would remain that way through their lives. For with Vicky in their lives, there would always be a little piece of Ray, too.

She missed him badly. Never again would she meet a man who understood her as thoroughly or could make her laugh so loudly. With Ray she could be herself, moods and all. There were no expectations of her, and she did not have to prove herself to him; something she feared would happen if she had pursued Mason’s hidden agenda on the stairs yesterday.

Maybe she had read the awkward moment wrong, but there was something behind Mason’s intense eyes that hinted he wanted her to stay for reasons other than capturing Chambers. Such attention was flattering, of course, and she would be lying to herself if she admitted not finding the thirty-five-year-old DI attractive. However, she suspected his feelings toward her were born more from respect than love or lust, and nothing good or worthwhile could come from that.

Shame, she mused getting dressed for dinner, because despite his secretive past Mason was a good man with an honest heart. These qualities were rare enough without being packaged in a six-foot-two Matt Dillon look alike.

Wearing a white vest top and an old denim skirt, she left her room and ambled down the stairs to the secluded pool area where she and the girls had spent the afternoon shamelessly worshipping the sun. Such was the fairness of Vicky’s skin, she had already adopted a pink glow, and Jessop’s first proper motherly duty to the girl was to advise her to slap on plenty of high factor and take it easy for the first few days. Vicky had complied instantly, rubbing cream on her face and dragging her sun-lounger to shade beneath the giant palms of one of the banana trees that encircled the pool.

‘That goes for you, too, young lady,’ she’d told Chloe, who’d just rolled her eyes before turning over onto her front.

They’d arranged to meet at the bar at 5.30pm. The restaurant opened at six, and all of them were ravenous for a proper meal followed by an early night ready to start afresh tomorrow. It was to be the first day as a new family, and she couldn’t wait.

The sun had now set, and the hotel and pool area were bathed in warm circles of soft halogen light. The chirping of crickets punctuated the easy conversation wafting out from the bar, and the temperature, according to the thermometer in her room, was a comfortable 17
degrees.

She stepped onto the patio area outside the bar next to the restaurant, where a scattering of the few residents were enjoying a pre-dinner drink. To her amusement, she’d noticed earlier that she was youngest adult there by some twenty years or so. This suited her fine, because the older generation didn’t tend to pry too hard during casual conversation. They tended to be more interested in talking about themselves and how this hotel compared to the thousands of others they’d visited in their extensive travels during their extensive lives. Such mundane small talk if thrown her way would be more than welcome. Sure beat the hell out of discussing knife wounds and decomposition rates.

She took a second to survey the tranquil halogen lit pool and appreciate the gentle breeze sweeping in from the sea, quashing any lingering doubts she had had about making this impulsive escape.

Allowing herself a smile, she made her way inside to the air conditioned bar, where her girls sat drinking cocktails. Both wore loose sleeveless t-shirts, with Chloe sporting denim shorts and sandals, whilst Vicky wore flip-flops and a red sarong the colour of her hair.

Flanking them were a number of the guests, mostly male and over sixty. But it was not the pretty young blonde and redhead that had snared the men’s attention, it was TV above the bar, on which played a football match.

‘Christ,’ she sighed. ‘Bloody football.’ She approached the bar and tapped the girls on the shoulders.

‘You’ll never guess what?’ Chloe beamed with a slight slur to her speech.

She clocked the vase sized glass containing a blue drink she was sure could not taste good. ‘Let me guess…You’re drunk already?’

Vicky chuckled around her bright pink drinking straw.

‘Nope, but I’m getting there. Check it out.’ Chloe motioned above to the TV, where the match was being played between a team in blue and a team in white.

Just as Jessop was about to ask what it was she was supposed to be looking at other than a stupid game played by over paid ponces, she clocked the names of the teams playing: Chelsea vs. Reading.

Great. Even 2000 miles away she couldn’t escape the damn city.

‘Our home team,’ Chloe slurred. ‘Freaky, eh?’

‘That’s one word for it,’ she mumbled. ‘Get me in an OJ, will you. I’m just off to powder my nose.’

‘Someone here caught your eye?’ Vicky mocked.

Jessop startled at the joke. Since they had only buried Ray two days ago, such dark humour was the last thing she’d expected to hear from the girl. But this was a good thing, she supposed. It meant Vicky was stronger than either her or Ray had given her credit for, and was already dealing with her grief. After all, Vicky had already endured the breaking of the shell of her understanding when her mother was killed two months ago. Maybe in that time she had found some meaning in her suffering.

In reply to Vicky’s joke, she said, ‘Yeah. The one wearing the beige slacks and cream loafers.’

Vicky’s eyes darted around the bar, taking in all the men, all of whom, it seemed, wore beige slacks and cream loafers.

She left her giggling into her glass and adjourned to the toilets.

Chapter
One-hundred and eight

The stark light in the toilets did nothing to improve her gaunt features. She bunched her thick hair behind her head and tied it up in a loose ponytail. The look only served to enhance the dark rings beneath her eyes and the cheekbones she hadn’t seen since her teens.

The white vest top she wore used to fit snugly around an ample bosom, yet now hung loose on narrow shoulders and a flat chest. She looked like she belonged here among the elderly and retired. Yet she had another good twenty years or so left in her before she could rightfully call herself one of them.

Twenty years to do what, though?

That was the question. A serious question she had to consider before returning home to where the ghosts awaited her with haunting text messages about her past, and savage lessons about death and salvation.

Cool beads of perspiration broke on her brow, and her stomach twisted into a tight knot. It was all she could do to stop herself from throwing up in the sink when from her handbag her mobile rang.

Sucking up a deep breath, she fished out the phone and saw Mason’s name flashing on the screen.

She knew the purpose of the call, which was why she was reluctant to answer. She didn’t want to know the grizzly details of the latest victim. She didn’t want to know about the loved one who had been spared, whose horrific ordeal would eventually enrich their lives. She didn’t want to know about how the bastard had appeared out of nowhere again and disappeared just as suddenly.