“I’m so sorry, Dom,” Christa said the next morning as she handed him a coffee and sat across from him at her kitchen table, “but I didn’t hear the door. If I’d known Gemma was there I never would’ve said anything. Now she really thinks there’s something going on between us – and it’s all my fault.”
“It’s okay,” he said morosely. “I’ll explain it. Somehow.”
“I don’t know what I’d have done if you hadn’t come round last night.” She looked at him, and her gaze was troubled.
“But that text message from Tony…it scared me. I should’ve called Devon, I shouldn’t have got you involved.”
“Devon, is it?” Dom asked, and cocked his brow. “You mean that detective, the one who questioned you about your mum when you got back from Corfu?”
She flushed. “Yes.”
“Wait a minute…you two aren’t?” He stared at her, and his brow rose even higher.
Her flush deepened. “Don’t be ridiculous. He’s been…helpful, that’s all.” She bit her lip. “I wouldn’t have bothered you, but he’s working on an investigation.”
“Did you tell him about Tony?” Dominic asked her. “Did you tell him that he beat you?”
She shook her head. “I told him I was afraid, that’s all. I’m probably just being silly, anyway, overreacting to an ex-boyfriend’s text—”
“No.” Dominic spoke with conviction. “No, you can’t be too careful, Christa. Tony’s a knob. Even worse, he’s a crazy knob. No, you did the right thing, calling me.”
Now, he thought grimly as he turned to go back upstairs to the guest bedroom and pack up his stuff, if he could just make Gemma understand…
The telephone on the hall table rang. Hoping against hope that it was Gemma, Dominic grabbed it. “Hello?”
There was a longish pause. “May I speak to Christa Shaw, please?” a male voice enquired.
“That depends,” he said insolently. “Who’s asking? ’Cause this is her boyfriend. Dominic Heath.”
“No worries. It’s not important,” Devon said after a moment, and rang off.
When Gemma returned from Waitrose, Jack was gone. The blanket she’d covered him with was neatly folded on the coffee table. There was no other indication that he’d been in the townhouse.
She strode into the small kitchen and slid the carrier bag onto the counter. She’d bought an assortment of produce, a bottle of Shiraz, and a couple of steaks to sear for their dinner before she sent him on his way. Gemma scowled. Bloody men! You could never depend on them to stay put in one place for long…
She checked her messages to see if there was anything from Dominic. There was nothing. With a scowl she thrust the lettuces and tomatoes into the drawer in the fridge, and was just reaching into the sack to yank out the bottle of wine when her phone shrilled.
“Dominic?” she snapped. “It’s about time you called.”
“Gemma? It’s Jack. I’m going over the CCTV footage from the Mile End Road with a bloke from the CID. They’ve got a licence number on the vehicle Jools was abducted in.”
Instantly her pique was forgotten. “That’s good news!”
“It’s only a start,” he said, “but it’s something.” He lowered his voice. “Sorry I ran out. Dev – he and I were partners in my CID days – he called to tell me the news.”
“You were a detective?” Gemma asked, surprised.
“Only for a couple of years. But yes. I was.” He offered nothing further.
She shook her head slightly as she put the wine away. Jack would never cease to surprise her.
“I talked to Valery,” he went on. “She said Jools took her duffel bag and mobile with her. We know approximately where she was grabbed, and we’ve scoured the immediate area. But we’ve found no trace of her.”
Gemma frowned. “And what does that mean, exactly? Is that a good sign? Or bad?”
“Bad, I’m afraid. It tells me that whoever grabbed her – even though it looks to have happened on the spur of the moment – took the time to remove any traces from the area.” He paused and added grimly, “It’s a professional job, Gemma. Whoever took Jools knew exactly what they were doing.”
Her heart sank. “Oh, Jack…I hope you find her. I’m sure you will.”
“I will. I have to.” He paused. “What are you doing? Did you finish your errands?”
She eyed the half-put-away groceries. “I did. I bought a few things to make a nice dinner. Steak,” she added. “And wine.”
“Damn,” Jack murmured, his words tinged with regret. “That sounds great. Hang on.” He put the phone aside and had a brief conversation with someone on the other end. “Good news,” he said a moment later. “The vehicle’s just been found in Brighton. I’m going out there now.”
“Take me along, Jack,” Gemma said impulsively. “I want to go.” She couldn’t bear the thought of spending another minute brooding and wondering what Dominic and Christa were up to. Her throat thickened at the memory of her husband’s recent betrayal.
There was no refuting what she’d seen, no possibility she’d misunderstood. Dom and Christa had spent the night together. There was no forgiving that.
He hesitated. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Gemma. It’s a crime investigation scene, after all, and I’ll be asking Devon questions and talking to the SOCOs.”
“SOCOs?” she echoed.
“Sorry – scene of the crime officers. It’ll be a bit boring for you, I should think.”
“I won’t get in the way. I can do a bit of shopping while I wait. I like Brighton,” she added, a wistful note in her voice. “We went once, me and Mum, one summer when I was fifteen.”
Jack heard the yearning in her voice, and the sadness, too. He didn’t know what had happened between Gemma and Dominic, exactly; but something had gone seriously awry. He’d be a real shit if he took advantage of that now. But, “All right,” he heard himself say. “I’ll pick you up in twenty minutes.”
Gemma rang off and quickly put the remaining groceries away. As she headed into the bedroom to run a brush through her hair and reapply her lipstick, she paused. She was looking forward to getting away and spending the afternoon with Jack Hawkins. He was sexy, intriguing…and, she reminded herself, more than a bit dangerous. He was everything she ought to run from, just as fast and as far as she could. She didn’t especially like what he did for a living and she never would. Yet for some inexplicable reason, she was drawn to him.
Gemma blotted her mouth with a tissue and tossed the lipstick into her handbag, then headed for the door. Thanks to Dom and his sleepover with his exotic celebrity dolly-bird, she was ready for whatever might develop between herself and Jack.
God help her.
“Do you think Jools is here in Brighton?” Jack asked Devon after he left Gemma to her shopping and joined the detective near the abandoned vehicle.
“No.” Devon spoke with certainty. “More likely they switched vehicles and took her somewhere else.”
“Unless they didn’t,” Jack ventured thoughtfully. Devon glanced at him. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe that’s what they want us to think,” he remarked. “After all, they grabbed Jools off the street, spur of the moment, didn’t they? So they didn’t exactly have time to plan ahead.”
“True,” Devon agreed, “but I doubt they’d take a chance like that – or be so obvious. These men are part of a crime syndicate, Jack, not a couple of local yobbos out to nick a car and have a lark.”
Jack frowned. “Did the SOCOs find anything else?
Devon held up a plastic evidence bag containing a matchbook. “This. It was under the front seat.”
Jack looked at it and shrugged. “It’s only a book of matches, Dev.”
“Take a closer look.”
He leaned nearer to study the matchbook cover, slightly swollen with damp, and frowned. “The lettering’s strange, and half worn away. It’s…” he paused, and looked up at Devon with dawning understanding. “It’s Turkish.”
“It’s Arabic, yes. Looks like it came from a restaurant, or a nightclub.”
“Do you think that’s where Jools is now?”
“Possibly, although I doubt it. Still, it gives us a place to start looking.” He dropped the matchbook back in the evidence bag. “Hopefully we can decipher the name and come up with an address.” Devon paused and added awkwardly, “I know you must be worried.”
“I am. But if these men – whoever they are – are holding Jools hostage, I doubt they’ll harm her. She’s their bargaining tool, after all.”
“Is that what you think they’re after?” Devon asked. “Ransom money?”
“I’ve no idea. Money, certainly; perhaps they intend to press Oliver into laundering funds. Or they intend to come at Adesh and his family through Jools.” His expression was grim. “Whatever it is, I reckon we’ll find out soon enough.”