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Authors: Kasia Radzka
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this investigation?”
“All I know is she was determined to find out what happened to Tatiana.”
Back in her apartment Lexi made sure that the door and windows were locked. She went from room to room, and even checked her cupboards, underneath the bed, and behind the curtains, before she dared going to the bathroom. She stood under the shower, her tears blending with the water until the stream became so cold she couldn’t handle it any more.
Sleep wouldn’t come immediately. She was tired, overtired. But that was the problem. Her mind was unable to relax. Her thoughts kept her awake. The investigation; the story. Hannah was dead. Tatiana, a girl she had never even met, was missing. Why was she doing this to herself? Why was it so damn important? She should have become a florist; life would have been much easier or at least simpler.
Finally, Lexi fell asleep but even in sleep her dreams forced her mind in overdrive. There was no retreat in her slumber. She dreamt of Hannah. She dreamt of her family back home. She dreamt of the love she had left behind.
A life that seemed far away but one she hadn’t really left behind. She’d be lying to herself if she thought any different. She had run away from the problems her family posed but they were still there. Still with a grasp over her. She was still Lexi Ryder, and while that may have not had any significance in London, it was like a pair of handcuffs Lexi fought against every day. Sooner or later she’d have to face them all.
When she awoke in the morning, she reached for her mobile and found she had slept well past eight, but her body felt like she hadn’t slept at all. Reality hit within moments. Hannah had been murdered. The police were going to treat it as a mugging, there was no evidence to say otherwise. But Lexi knew better. Coincidences didn’t exist when murder and deception were at bay.
She lay in bed for another ten minutes or so before flicking on the television and catching up on the latest news. Dirty politicians, the civil war in Syria, a car crash on the outskirts of London, a small mention of a woman’s body found last night. Hannah. Smart. Interesting. Paranoid.
Lexi grabbed her phone and checked her emails. Her phone beeped. Ten new messages popped up. She scrolled through them.
Hannah.
Why hadn’t she checked them last night?
The time stamp was at around eleven at night. Maybe only half an hour before she was attacked? Two hours after Lexi had got to the scene. Hadn’t Hannah said she didn’t understand why people did such silly things in movies like not back-up the information they were going to share? Murphy’s Law suggested that if you were going out in the middle of the night to share juicy evidence, chances were that you weren’t going to make it. Why risk losing evidence when there was the invention of email? Send the email then go share the info in person. Had Hannah known she wasn’t going to survive the night?
The email was enlightening to say the least. A photo. A name. A date. An address. It didn’t mean much to Lexi until she googled the details realising that Hannah, or whoever Hannah had at her beck and call, was smarter than Lexi or anyone else had given them credit for.
Chapter 13
Lexi couldn’t get the picture of Hannah on the pavement, the blood pooling around her, out of her head, nor stop her voice from echoing in her mind.
She read the email again. She had a name, an address. She googled both.
Adrian Somerville.
A Metropolitan police officer. Several awards. A decade in the service.
Was he dirty?
Hannah’s email implied so.
A few articles popped up. ‘Decorated police officer busts drug lab… Decorated officer shot in the line of duty… Decorated detective questioned over sex worker murder… Decorated officer reinstated into the Met after false accusations laid to rest.’
But were they really false? Lexi couldn’t be sure. She’d have to check with Cara
“All I know is she was determined to find out what happened to Tatiana.”
Back in her apartment Lexi made sure that the door and windows were locked. She went from room to room, and even checked her cupboards, underneath the bed, and behind the curtains, before she dared going to the bathroom. She stood under the shower, her tears blending with the water until the stream became so cold she couldn’t handle it any more.
Sleep wouldn’t come immediately. She was tired, overtired. But that was the problem. Her mind was unable to relax. Her thoughts kept her awake. The investigation; the story. Hannah was dead. Tatiana, a girl she had never even met, was missing. Why was she doing this to herself? Why was it so damn important? She should have become a florist; life would have been much easier or at least simpler.
Finally, Lexi fell asleep but even in sleep her dreams forced her mind in overdrive. There was no retreat in her slumber. She dreamt of Hannah. She dreamt of her family back home. She dreamt of the love she had left behind.
A life that seemed far away but one she hadn’t really left behind. She’d be lying to herself if she thought any different. She had run away from the problems her family posed but they were still there. Still with a grasp over her. She was still Lexi Ryder, and while that may have not had any significance in London, it was like a pair of handcuffs Lexi fought against every day. Sooner or later she’d have to face them all.
When she awoke in the morning, she reached for her mobile and found she had slept well past eight, but her body felt like she hadn’t slept at all. Reality hit within moments. Hannah had been murdered. The police were going to treat it as a mugging, there was no evidence to say otherwise. But Lexi knew better. Coincidences didn’t exist when murder and deception were at bay.
She lay in bed for another ten minutes or so before flicking on the television and catching up on the latest news. Dirty politicians, the civil war in Syria, a car crash on the outskirts of London, a small mention of a woman’s body found last night. Hannah. Smart. Interesting. Paranoid.
Lexi grabbed her phone and checked her emails. Her phone beeped. Ten new messages popped up. She scrolled through them.
Hannah.
Why hadn’t she checked them last night?
The time stamp was at around eleven at night. Maybe only half an hour before she was attacked? Two hours after Lexi had got to the scene. Hadn’t Hannah said she didn’t understand why people did such silly things in movies like not back-up the information they were going to share? Murphy’s Law suggested that if you were going out in the middle of the night to share juicy evidence, chances were that you weren’t going to make it. Why risk losing evidence when there was the invention of email? Send the email then go share the info in person. Had Hannah known she wasn’t going to survive the night?
The email was enlightening to say the least. A photo. A name. A date. An address. It didn’t mean much to Lexi until she googled the details realising that Hannah, or whoever Hannah had at her beck and call, was smarter than Lexi or anyone else had given them credit for.
Chapter 13
Lexi couldn’t get the picture of Hannah on the pavement, the blood pooling around her, out of her head, nor stop her voice from echoing in her mind.
She read the email again. She had a name, an address. She googled both.
Adrian Somerville.
A Metropolitan police officer. Several awards. A decade in the service.
Was he dirty?
Hannah’s email implied so.
A few articles popped up. ‘Decorated police officer busts drug lab… Decorated officer shot in the line of duty… Decorated detective questioned over sex worker murder… Decorated officer reinstated into the Met after false accusations laid to rest.’
But were they really false? Lexi couldn’t be sure. She’d have to check with Cara
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