Ruby shoved the phone into her pocket. The last thing she wanted was Downes seeing the response before she’d had a chance to check what it said. It was not until she got into the toilet cubicle that she had the opportunity to read it. The stink of newly applied bleach made her wrinkle her nose, but she pulled down the toilet lid and sat to read the email.
‘Ruby.
Where were you last night? I waited, but you never came home. You say you want to see me, but we both know that’s not true. Otherwise you would never have given me up in the first place. How did you feel when I was born at three a.m.? Some say it’s the witching hour. Is that why you gave me up? Was I evil? Well I have news. I don’t want you any more than you wanted me.
See you around.
Lucy’
Ruby’s heart sank because now she was left in no doubt. Lucy Joy Preston had been born at three a.m., and such information was imprinted on the original birth certificate, which Lucy, as an adoptee, could only have obtained when she turned eighteen. The anniversary Ruby and Nathan shared was their daughter’s birthday. But she had passed her eighteenth birthday a couple of years ago – why was she coming after her now? Ruby swallowed, her mouth arid. She scanned the words a second time, trying to comprehend their meaning. ‘I waited, but you never came home.’ Had she been in her flat? And did that mean her daughter was the killer? Her mind bombarded by questions, she tried to plan her next move. But what was she supposed to do? Admit that, not only had she been sleeping with her DI, she had been involved with a member of the notorious Crosby family too? Then there was the revelation that she had given up their daughter for adoption when she was a teen. It was something she had omitted to declare when she joined the police. Had they known of her background, she would not have got a look in.
She knew she should think about what she was going to say. The email should be referred to a police negotiator, someone who would compose a reply where every word counted. But her fingers moved swiftly as instinct took over, reassuring the sender of the email and asking if they could meet up to talk. She had barely pressed ‘send’ when an error notification was returned as not recognised. It meant Lucy had instantly deleted the address. Ruby swore under her breath. That was what she meant by ‘see you around’. She was toying with her, instigating revenge for a perceived betrayal years ago. Switching her phone to silent, Ruby shoved it into her pocket. It was time for briefing. She needed to absorb the investigation to date.
She was grateful to see the mug of strong tea awaiting her in her customary position near the head of the conference table. She nodded a thanks to Luddy, her mind still racing with recent events. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear. ‘Any joy with that email address yet?’
People were still coming in, and she was satisfied they could not be heard. But Luddy looked furtive as he leaned in to reply. Ruby made a mental note not to put him up for any covert work.
‘I’m trying to locate the IP address, but with all the other enquiries… ’
‘Do us a favour and make it a priority, will you?’ Ruby said, forcing a reassuring smile.
She knew what her colleagues would think of her when the news came out. Downes would be deemed a stud, bedding a woman ten years his junior, but she would be viewed as some kind of trollop, sleeping with her DI to further her career. If only people knew. It had always been just her and Nathan. Even during the long gaps in their relationship, which could fall into months or even years, her dates with other men had never progressed past a heated kiss goodnight. It was only in the last year that she had begun to feel lonely, and after Jack’s wife died they fell into each other’s arms. He was safe, her rock, and she trusted him with her life. But the email made it all sound so sordid, and she could not bear for her colleagues to look at her in that way.
‘Sorry,’ Eve whispered, sliding in late under the watchful eye of DCI Worrow. Worrow was the Senior Investigating Officer for the case, and under pressure to produce results. As always, she was immaculately turned out, no make-up, but perfectly bobbed hair and a tailored grey skirt suit. Ruby’s wardrobe consisted of several pairs of figure-hugging black fitted trousers and a few designer tops and shirts which she alternated on a daily basis. From the age of eight she had hated skirts and dresses with a passion.
‘Right, let’s get briefing underway,’ Worrow said. ‘Welcome to Operation Javelin to anyone who hasn’t attended previously.’ She pointed to the wall behind her, to the pictures of Harry Edmonds and his wife Emily. Underneath, Charlotte Lockwood’s image stared back – her lips pursed as if she was about to say something – in a moment that was frozen in time. ‘These are respected members of the community, and we’re under a lot of pressure to get a quick result. Unfortunately, funding and manpower have been in short supply.’ She glanced around the room, taking in their faces. ‘So I’d like to begin by thanking you for your hard work and dedication. I know some of you in particular haven’t been seeing a lot of your families.’ Worrow paused, her glance landing on Eve. ‘However, that’s the nature of our job. Anyone that doesn’t like it should put their name down in Sainsbury’s, or B&Q. Now, on to the task in hand.’
Ruby contained her displeasure, turning it over like a bitter sweet in her mouth. Worrow was a terrible leader. It was just like her to say something positive then take it back, all in the same breath. Her phone itched in her blazer pocket with the need to check her emails again. She was sitting next to DI Downes, and blushed as he spread his long legs, his thigh touching hers.
Flicking through her paperwork, she joined in with delivering updates on the case. Intelligence was swapped; the recent appeal had brought forward some leads, a car hire company being one of them, who reported a woman behaving oddly as she rented a hire vehicle the day before Emily’s disappearance. Enquiries had been made to trace the vehicle, but given the car had been rented several times since that forensics could be of limited value. All the same, Luddy had seized it, and CSI were checking over it for signs of blood, hair, fibres, anything which could provide valuable leads.
With definitive proof that Emily’s real daughter had long since passed on, the possibility of mistaken identity was discussed. Ruby’s stomach clenched. She could get into big trouble for withholding evidence. She was out of her depth, and Lucy had only just begun. Worrow’s voice washed over her as she relayed her opinion that killers didn’t just disappear into thin air. But Ruby knew that the biggest question of all waited to be answered.
Was this the end of the killing spree?
Given Lucy’s recent taunting contact, it seemed she had only just begun. An image resurfaced from Ruby’s memory, bringing with it a slice of pain. Even now it hurt to think of her little girl. With her cupid bow lips and tuft of soft black hair, giving up her baby was the hardest decision she ever had to make. She had not given birth to a murderer, Ruby told herself – it could not be true. But the evidence was mounting up, and she wondered if she was approaching this viewpoint as a detective, or a mother who could not face the truth.