Read Online Never Look Back by Clare Donoghue - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Clare Donoghue
Tags: UK
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soothing. The buzz of the zip created a kind of white noise. Sergeant Bennett had excused herself to go and speak to her boss, ten minutes ago. She had taken Sarah’s phone with her after they had listened to the voicemail he had left. The message had been whispered, only a few words audible above a hiss of static. ‘Sarah . . . I . . . wanted to tell you . . . I helped . . . was cold . . . I did it . . . I did it.’ It didn’t make any sense but at least it meant she had something.
She was sitting at the edge of a large open-plan office. Partitions separated desks into groups of two or four. She guessed Bennett was a senior officer because she had a desk to herself, against a window. The sergeant had been polite, knowledgeable, sincere and conscientious. What had Rayner been? None of those things, and he certainly hadn’t been a detective. Who knew, maybe he wasn’t a policeman at all. Bennett had made notes. Not into a computer but actual handwritten notes. The old-fashioned familiarity of it had made Sarah smile for the first time in days. Computer records could be lost but paper felt more permanent. She swivelled the office chair to the right and then back to the left, syncing the action with her zipper routine. She stared at her hands and was relieved to see that they had stopped shaking, for now.
10
24 January – Friday
His feet were turning into blocks of ice waiting for her. He wiggled his toes to encourage at least a little life back into them, closing his mind to the people who jostled him as they rushed by.
Everyone around him was oblivious to what he saw, what he knew. She was so close he could almost smell her and yet no one else seemed to feel her presence. He smiled and looked again at the double doors, willing her to appear. Saliva wet his tongue as anticipation hummed through his body.
There she was, walking carefully to avoid patches of ice. He tipped his head to one side and watched, transfixed by her face, her shape, even the way she moved. Her skin was pale, her hair dragged back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. He couldn’t wait to touch her there, a place so soft, so delicate. He stamped his feet, rolled his head around his aching shoulders and followed her as she walked towards her car. As he passed, only inches behind her, her scent filling his senses he reached out, his fingers touching her hair or one exquisite second. She didn’t see him. It wasn’t their time.
11
24 January – Friday
Lockyer was sitting alone in the briefing room, staring at the floor-to-ceiling glass that separated him from the main office. The bottom third was frosted so all he could see was the shadowed bodies of his team wandering back and forth, only their heads in focus. No one looked in at him but he still felt observed. Everyone was waiting for his lead.
He had been ignoring a strong impulse to call Clara, though what he hoped Megan’s mother would say eluded him. Without thinking he started turning the ring that hung around his neck. It had become a kind of talisman or touchstone since their separation, over five years ago. It maintained a connection. She didn’t know he had it and would no doubt be livid if she did. The memories conjured when he touched the small circle of gold were happy. He knew Clara didn’t feel the same way and that was the reality he had to live with. ‘Work and women. That’s all you care about, Mike.’ The memory of her words still stung. It took almost nothing to stir his guilt. He let out a frustrated breath, feeling his anger build but knowing it had nowhere to go but inward. He took his hand away and started to shuffle the papers in front of him, refocusing his mind.
The notes Jane had given him from their interview with Walsh were extensive, but there was no information or clue as to the identity of the father of Debbie’s baby. From the notes Walsh had shown them, Debbie hadn’t said much, other than she needed a termination because
She was sitting at the edge of a large open-plan office. Partitions separated desks into groups of two or four. She guessed Bennett was a senior officer because she had a desk to herself, against a window. The sergeant had been polite, knowledgeable, sincere and conscientious. What had Rayner been? None of those things, and he certainly hadn’t been a detective. Who knew, maybe he wasn’t a policeman at all. Bennett had made notes. Not into a computer but actual handwritten notes. The old-fashioned familiarity of it had made Sarah smile for the first time in days. Computer records could be lost but paper felt more permanent. She swivelled the office chair to the right and then back to the left, syncing the action with her zipper routine. She stared at her hands and was relieved to see that they had stopped shaking, for now.
10
24 January – Friday
His feet were turning into blocks of ice waiting for her. He wiggled his toes to encourage at least a little life back into them, closing his mind to the people who jostled him as they rushed by.
Everyone around him was oblivious to what he saw, what he knew. She was so close he could almost smell her and yet no one else seemed to feel her presence. He smiled and looked again at the double doors, willing her to appear. Saliva wet his tongue as anticipation hummed through his body.
There she was, walking carefully to avoid patches of ice. He tipped his head to one side and watched, transfixed by her face, her shape, even the way she moved. Her skin was pale, her hair dragged back into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. He couldn’t wait to touch her there, a place so soft, so delicate. He stamped his feet, rolled his head around his aching shoulders and followed her as she walked towards her car. As he passed, only inches behind her, her scent filling his senses he reached out, his fingers touching her hair or one exquisite second. She didn’t see him. It wasn’t their time.
11
24 January – Friday
Lockyer was sitting alone in the briefing room, staring at the floor-to-ceiling glass that separated him from the main office. The bottom third was frosted so all he could see was the shadowed bodies of his team wandering back and forth, only their heads in focus. No one looked in at him but he still felt observed. Everyone was waiting for his lead.
He had been ignoring a strong impulse to call Clara, though what he hoped Megan’s mother would say eluded him. Without thinking he started turning the ring that hung around his neck. It had become a kind of talisman or touchstone since their separation, over five years ago. It maintained a connection. She didn’t know he had it and would no doubt be livid if she did. The memories conjured when he touched the small circle of gold were happy. He knew Clara didn’t feel the same way and that was the reality he had to live with. ‘Work and women. That’s all you care about, Mike.’ The memory of her words still stung. It took almost nothing to stir his guilt. He let out a frustrated breath, feeling his anger build but knowing it had nowhere to go but inward. He took his hand away and started to shuffle the papers in front of him, refocusing his mind.
The notes Jane had given him from their interview with Walsh were extensive, but there was no information or clue as to the identity of the father of Debbie’s baby. From the notes Walsh had shown them, Debbie hadn’t said much, other than she needed a termination because
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