The Chosen Ones. G Sanders D
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Last June, transferred to Canterbury from the London Met, Ed had been pitched straight into the disappearance of a local schoolgirl. With her new team she’d discovered the case was one of a series of abductions stretching back ten years. The perpetrator was now in jail awaiting trial. However, although the investigation was effectively wound up, Ed still woke at night with an image of the abductor in her head. She had worked on horrendous crimes with the Met, but in London she’d been able to switch off and walk away. With the abductions in Canterbury it had been different. For the first time in her career, the images stayed with her, not because she had led the investigation, but because she couldn’t forget the mothers separated from their daughters. The image of the abductor returned and she shuddered at the evil he had perpetrated.
As she took another sip of water, Ed’s honesty forced her to concede she was troubled by more than recurrent thoughts of the abductions. She would never let her mood influence her work, but for some months she’d felt decidedly below par. Not down, exactly, but until recently things had not been as she would have liked. Ed knew herself well enough to know the reason. There had been a long gap without a man in her life.
Men!
They’d not always treated her well; indeed, a few had treated her badly. Ed could live without them, but on balance, she would rather have a bastard in her bed than no one at all. This time, perhaps, she’d struck lucky. So far there had been no sign that Daniel was a bastard. He was fit and attentive, but he was another cop and that should be warning enough.
Gina Hamilton weaved through the meandering tourists on Mercery Lane and Sun Street. Quickening her pace, she left the city centre and headed home via Palace Street. Mechanically following the familiar route, she was still wondering how long it would be before the Metcalffes offered her a partnership in their dental practice.
‘Bhaaarrrr!’
Gina stopped abruptly at the edge of the kerb, jolted from her thoughts by the blare of a car horn. The number of pedestrians had thinned rapidly and the street was narrowing between flint buildings and a high brick wall. From nowhere she felt a twinge of apprehension, a cold tension between her shoulder blades. She’d felt it before, as if someone were watching her, following her, but that had been weeks ago. Approaching the dogleg beside the entrance to The King’s School she glanced back. The pavement behind her appeared deserted but then, before she could be certain, she’d turned into The Borough and Palace Street had disappeared from view.
Why was she feeling so jumpy? The last time it happened, Gina had been unable to fathom what had sparked her apprehension and now she was equally unable to identify the source of her unease. Annoyed that she should feel so unsettled the evening before her holiday, Gina crossed the road to pick up a ready meal and a foil-sealed glass of white wine at the supermarket on Kingsmead.
‘Snap!’ said a guy behind her at the checkout.
Gina jumped at the sound of the male voice and turned to face the speaker. It was some stranger with a beard.
‘Sorry?’
‘Snap! Your items and mine; seems like we’re both facing a lonely meal for one.’
Gina wanted to end this exchange quickly before he suggested they eat their meals together at his or hers.
‘Sorry, I’m in a rush. I have to get back to pack for my holiday.’
What was she doing? That was way too much information – an open invite for him to continue the conversation. Fortunately, the assistant was scanning her last item. Gina, thinking quickly, put her card back into her purse and pulled out some cash.
‘I guess you live nearby?’
‘Sorry, can’t stop, I must run.’
Gina picked up her bag and turned to leave.
‘Excuse me, Madam.’
What now? It was the assistant. Surely the tenner would cover it.
‘Yes …?’
‘You’ve forgotten your change, Madam.’
‘That’s okay. Put it in the charity box.’
‘I shop here a lot so I’ll see you around.’
Ignoring the stranger’s parting shot, Gina walked towards the exit without looking back. Once outside, she paused to put her purse back in her shoulder bag. Zipping it closed, she saw the bearded guy about to follow her out. Without thinking she half ran around the side of the building to a gap in the fence and took the short cut home via the path by the river.
Hurrying along the rough track, she began to have second thoughts. The path appeared deserted but she was aware of someone behind her, their footsteps in time with her own. Was it the guy from the checkout? It couldn’t be; she was sure he hadn’t seen which way she went.
Gina continued walking, but the chill of apprehension and tension between her shoulder blades, which she’d felt earlier in Palace Street, had returned. Here on the lonely path, Gina was convinced someone was following her. She turned to look back, but could see no one there. Why couldn’t the bastard, whoever he was, have come up to her in the street? She could have handled that. What was he playing at, hanging back, following her?
Gina knew she should have taken the main road. It was crazy to lead him down this deserted footpath under the trees by the river. Knowing it was too late now to change her mind, she quickened her pace. The illuminated area, which surrounded her block of flats, was just beyond the next bend.
Stepping into the light, Gina forced herself to walk normally to the rear entrance of her building. She opened the door and relaxed as it clicked shut behind her. The apprehension disappeared the moment there was a locked door between her and the outside world. Peering through the glass door panel, she was unable to see anyone outside. Whoever had been following her had stayed on the footpath, hidden by the bushes. Trying to dismiss the incident from her thoughts, she walked to the entrance foyer and paused to check her post box. It was empty.
Buying the apartment in Great Stour Court had stretched her financially. Even with her minimal social life, meeting the mortgage payments took much of her income, but she was happy. She loved her new home and she’d splurged her remaining cash on having her bedroom redecorated. She wasn’t sorry, but that additional expense had put a holiday out of the question. It really had been her lucky day when she entered the singles club competition. A chance to meet and mix with bright young professional people on equal terms for fun and maybe romance. Never had twenty – well, actually nineteen – words been so profitable. Gina had been surprised she’d won the Tuscan holiday, but she wasn’t going to complain.
Taking the lift to the third floor, she planned her evening. First, she’d pack, and then have a long soak in the bath before the ready meal, glass of wine and an early night.