He could tell by the flush that spread across his sister’s cheeks and trailed down to her wobbling chin that she disagreed. She had that habit of running the palm of her hand up the front of her nose when she was agitated, slewing off the flaked skin that surrounded her nostrils. He stood up. ‘Look, I’ll make us a nice cup of tea and we’ll talk it all through. We just need to keep our stories straight. Last thing we need is anyone finding out we were lying. We’ve been in the clear for fifteen years, we can’t let those bodies being found spoil things for us … not now. We need to keep things quiet.’

  Tess clenched her hands into fists and banged them down on her knee three times, setting the flab on her belly undulating like a sea of jelly under a tight-fitting tarpaulin. ‘I hate her, I hate her, I hate her. She always got what she wanted … always!’

  Moving to the kitchen, Jacko paused and turned, his eyes catching his sister. ‘Not always, Tess. Not always … she lost Khal, didn’t she?’

  Bringing her hands up to cover her face, Tess groaned. ‘Aw, don’t be mad at me, Jacko. It were an accident. You know it were.’

  Sighing, Jacko closed his eyes and exhaled. Right now, at this precise moment, he was barely holding things together. The last thing he needed was for his sister to crack up and spill the beans. He remembered how hard it had been to keep her quiet fifteen years ago. There was no way he was going to let her mess things up for them now. Not after they’d managed to cover up what they’d done for so long. ‘Just don’t think about it. Keep your head down and don’t speak to anyone about it. In fact, why don’t you take a trip to Whitby? You can stay with Aunt Jackie till it’s all blown over.’

  At once, Tess lowered her hands and glared at him, her eyes sparking, her mouth sulky. ‘Are you mad? I’m not leaving. Not when things are just getting so exciting. No way. I’m staying right here where I can see what’s going on.’

  Chapter 29

  When she came back downstairs, her mum took one look at Nikki’s face and led her to the table, pushing a plate towards her accompanied by a single word. ‘Eat!’

  As soon as she smelled the omelette, Nikki’s stomach curled up and withered. Were any of her internal organs going to be intact by the end of this night? She barely managed two mouthfuls before pushing her plate away with an apologetic glance across the table at her mum.

  ‘Marcus gone?’

  Nikki inclined her head. Her mum would have heard everything he said and was probably wondering why Nikki hadn’t made him stay. ‘I tried to stop him, but I had no words, Mam. The words were all there in my head, but I’d nothing left inside to make them come out.’

  Her mum placed her hands on the table and pushed herself upright. ‘You need to rest. You’re spent. Go to bed. I’ll lock up and come back in time to get the kids ready for school.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  Her mum shook her head. ‘She’s hurting, my beti. She’ll come round.’ She moved over and put her arms round her daughter. ‘You are a great mum, Nikita Parekh, and a great person. I am so proud to have you as my daughter. Don’t you doubt yourself, not even for a second. You do things your own way but it’s always for the good of this family.’ She turned Nikki around and pushed her gently towards the stairs. ‘Sleep.’

  By three o’clock in the morning, Nikki’s mind was still buzzing. She’d looked in on her children earlier. Sunni was sprawled diagonally across his bed, leg sticking out of the duvet, his shock of brown hair falling over his forehead. She’d promised him a haircut the previous week and still hadn’t got around to it. This weekend definitely! She pushed it back from his forehead like she’d done with Haqib earlier and dropped a kiss in its place before heading into Ruby’s room. The Rubster was huddled under her duvet, only her nose visible. Her room was the neatest one in the entire house. Nothing was out of place; clothes folded, notebooks and pens in orderly piles on her desk, bookshelves ordered alphabetically, schoolbag packed and ready by the door.

  Switching off her middle child’s light, she pulled the door half closed and moved on to the next room. For a moment, she hesitated before entering Charlie’s room. Would she still be awake? But it looked like the day’s events had exhausted her, for Charlie was lying, one arm flung over her eyes, snoring loudly. She’d had to deal with a lot today – more than any 14-year-old should have to. More than Nikki had ever wanted her kids to suffer. She’d always promised they’d never face the sort of trials she had. Wasn’t this nearly as bad? Sighing, she went to her own room, closing the door fully behind her.

  Hours later, still struggling to sleep, Nikki did the one thing that always made her feel safer. She pulled one of the cardboard boxes, the one labelled 2018, onto the bed and lifted off the lid. The last report, which had arrived three days previously, was at the top with a series of photographs taken with a long-range lens.

  The subject is working as a bricklayer and lives at the following Craigshill address in West Lothian. As per your instructions, now that we have eyes on him, we are monitoring his activities 24/7.

  Nikki knew the report by heart and so she lifted the photos, one by one. Every time she’d done so over the last few days, bubbles of sweat had erupted all over and her hands had shaken. Tonight, she was dispassionate. Her eyes, raking over the photos, studied the man from every angle. The way he stooped. His greying hair. How he held his cigarette with his index finger draped over it like a hook when he inhaled, the stubble on his chin. Before, all of those things had evoked visceral memories. Smells and sights that made her want to throw up. Tonight though, things were different. She was different. He wasn’t the important one right now. He’d need to be dealt with – ’course he would. Having him a few hundred miles distant from her and her family, didn’t reassure her … that was still too close. But right now, she needed to insulate her family from any more hurt. She needed to regroup … dealing with her dad could wait.

  She drifted into an uneasy sleep, the photos all around her a kaleidoscope of weird memories flitting in an out of her subconscious mind.

  ‘Come on, Nik, for goodness sake, just put a bit of bleach in the bucket before you mop.’

  Khal is laughing at me, waving a bottle of cheap bleach in the air, his brown eyes full of laughter.

  ‘No!’ My voice is croaky.

  ‘Let me put the bleach in.’

  ‘Go away, Khal, leave me alone. I’m not putting bleach in.’

  But he opens the bottle and pours it into the bucket. As soon as the smell hits my nostrils, I rear back, slamming my head into his nose. Blood spurts out onto the floor. I dive out of the kitchen into the bathroom and am violently sick. My head pounds and my heart hammers against my chest. For a moment, I think I’m going to pass out. Khal’s right there, banging on the door, voice thick as if he’s covered his face with something. ‘Let me in, Nik.’

  ‘Go ’way.’ I can taste the sick in my mouth, smell the bleach. Acid refluxes into my mouth and I vomit again.

  ‘No! Open up.’ He’s insistent, sounds worried.

  Crawling across, I flick the lock open and he’s there, holding me, demanding I tell him what’s wrong. And there, squashed in the loo of our rented terraced house on Rand Street, I tell him.

  I’m sobbing now. Khal’s T-shirt’s drenched, but still he rocks me, stroking my hair whispering over and over again, ‘I love you, Nik. I’ll look after you now.’

  ‘Khal! Khal!’

  Shit. A dream. Nikki pulled the photos off her sweaty legs and grabbed the glass of water from her bedside, taking small sips. Not those again. Not the nightmares. Not now. Allowing her breathing to steady, she leaned back against the headboard. She had to get a grip. Needed to hold things together.

  Hearing a noise, she swung her legs off the side of the bed, listening. One of the kids? Her mum coming back to check on her? There it was again. Someone moving about downstairs. She strained her ears. Was it on the stairs now? As quietly as she could, she leaned over and grabbed the baseball bat from under her bed, before standing up. Gripping it with both hands she positioned it over her right shoulder ready to strike.

  Her bedroom door was thrust open and … she exhaled in a loud whoosh, flung her weapon on the floor and ran to the figure standing in the doorway.

  Marcus grabbed her as her legs went around his waist and then they were pawing at each other, lips, teeth and bodies writhing and grinding together. The sex was hard, fast and furious – a tension-buster, their bodies familiar, their mating primal.

  When they were done – still lying on the floor, half naked – Marcus stood up, straightened his clothes and looked down at her. ‘I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t bear to think of you here on your own awake looking at those photos of your old man, thinking about Haqib, mourning Khal.’

  Nikki swallowed.

  ‘Don’t worry. Nothing’s changed, Nik. I know my place. We’re just friends with benefits. Just the way you always wanted it.’ And he turned and left.

  Nikki lay there, covered in a film of sweat, her body relaxed in a way it hadn’t been all day. Oh, Marcus. What am I doing to you? To us?

  Wednesday 24th October

  Chapter 30

  Nikki always thought that Sajid’s apartment perfectly reflected the man himself; urban swank with a touch of bijou chic. It was in Bradford’s prestigious Lister Apartments right in the heart of Manningham, a stone’s throw from the city centre – a gentrification project stalled at first base. Its luxury was in direct contrast to the area in which it was housed. It cost well above Sajid’s pay grade. If she hadn’t known he’d had an inheritance a couple of years ago, she’d have been suspicious that he was taking backhanders. He wouldn’t have been the first, after all. DCI Kowalski, her previous boss, had been taking backhanders whilst coordinating a trafficking enterprise on the side. Nikki had no regrets about exposing his sorry ass. Sajid, on the other hand, was similar to her, albeit with a tad more sartorial elegance, in his dedication to putting Bradford’s gangsters away.

  She parked her Zafira in the underground car park then spent a few moments chatting to the on-site security guard before heading up in the glass lift to Sajid’s apartment on the top floor. Once there, she took a minute to look out the window at the view which never ceased to fascinate her. From here, Bradford’s contradictions were never more apparent. From rows of sandstone terraced houses to the splendour of Bolton Woods. From inner-city bustle to the tranquillity of Lister Park. The city’s landscape paid homage to its diversity with church spires and mosque minarets – it had its share of greenery dotted around, with a dollop of spice added in for good measure.

  As she looked around the opulent hallway with its lacquered glass banisters, well-watered potted plants and polished wooden floors, she smirked. From Listerhills to Lister Mills. No difference – just another one of Bradford’s contradictions.

  She hammered on the door and waited. She was early – but hell, they’d wasted fifteen years already, time to crack on. She was well aware that yet again, she’d put a penny in the ‘bad mum’ slot by leaving without touching base with Charlie.

  Part of her decision not to wait was selfish – pure and simple. She had no idea how to cope with Charlie – what to say to her. What could she say to the daughter who had until now thought her dad had deserted them, only to find out he hadn’t? Nikki’s mum had told her that Charlie had been asking about Khal’s family and that struck an arrow right through Nikki’s heart. She didn’t want her precious child to have any contact with Burhan Abadi, yet deep down she was aware that this was something she couldn’t prevent. How the hell would that play out? The man was convinced she’d murdered his son. It made it easy for him, made him able to spout venom at Charlie and poison her against her mum. Nikki had no intention of allowing that to happen.

  Thrusting these thoughts to the back of her mind, she hammered on the door again and was rewarded by Sajid’s voice through the door. ‘Hold on, hold on. For God’s sake.’

  She grinned. Sajid was never at his best first thing and she’d just dragged him out of bed. He would be in a right mood. He pulled the door open wearing a T-shirt that hugged his muscles and a pair of boxers that left little to the imagination. Through half-closed eyes, he glowered at her. ‘Christ, Nik, it’s barely dawn.’

  Nikki pushed past him and made her way through to the kitchen where she plonked herself down at the small white table. ‘Hurry up – shower and then we can crack on. Shit and shave can wait.’

  Sajid, still with a bemused half-awake look on his face, padded after her in his bare feet, ‘You forget something, like?’

  Nikki put her head on one side and pretended to think. ‘Eh, no. Don’t think so.’

  With a humph, Sajid walked over to the state-of-the-art coffee machine that took up most of the small worktop in the dinky kitchen – easy seeing where his priorities lay – and flicked it on. ‘If you had to come so damn early, you could at least have brought some coffee.’

  His tone was petulant and Nikki grinned. He looked like Sunni when he’d just woken up with his hair all ruffled and sticking out. It was rare for Nikki to see her partner in a less than perfectly put together way. ‘What – when I’ve got a barista for a partner? Not bloody likely. Where are the files?’

  Sajid sniffed. ‘Living room – dining-room table. And keep the noise down, Langley had a late night.’ As Nikki stood, he turned to make his way back along the corridor, then turned. ‘Grab some cereal or toast or something. We’ve got a long day ahead of us and you look like the flap of a butterfly’s wing could knock you over.’

  Talking off her jacket and flinging it on the seat she’d just vacated, Nikki opened the bread bin and took out a loaf. Typical. Sajid had artisan bread – actually, on reflection, the bread was probably courtesy of Langley. She’d seen Sajid wolf down a McDonald’s. He liked his carbs white and processed. She shuffled around opening drawers looking for a bread knife, then noticed an electric knife – again typical Langley. Pathologists and their cutting and slicing instruments, she supposed. Apart from the fact that her family had a problem with losing digits, the last thing she would risk in her kitchen was a power tool of any description. Mind you, might come in handy should her dad come calling. So, feeling a rush of excitement, she plugged it in and gave it a few whirs before watching it easily slice through the loaf of brown seeded bread.

  In no time, she had four even slices. Definitely an improvement on the straggly ones she’d have produced manually. She placed them into the large toaster, only then noticing that all the appliances were in the same shiny black as the unit doors. Sajid and Langley were such damn posers. Opening the cupboard, she saw that they were better filled than hers at home. No sticky jam and honey jars, no Better Buy peanut butter, no own-brand chocolate spread. Instead her host’s supply of organic jams sat pristinely on the shelves mocking her. With a sigh, she opened the fridge, grabbed the butter – not marg – and an opened a jar of Bonne Maman raspberry jam.

  When the rich smell of coffee and toast filled the open-plan area, Nikki’s stomach rumbled. She really did need to eat and so she slathered butter and jam on all four slices and by the time Saj re-entered the room fifteen minutes later, all spruced and rosy cheeked, she was on to her second cup, had put more toast in the toaster for him, set up her laptop and was poring over the files he’d brought from work.

  As Sajid joined her at the large table, she looked up. ‘The skeletonised remains uncovered at Sunbridge Wells six years ago in 2012 were found to belong to Mark Hodgson who disappeared thirteen years ago in 2005. At that time the file says that he was presumed to have fallen into the trench that had been dug when a water pipe had burst and hadn’t been noticed when they refilled the trench.’

  ‘For heaven’s sake, didn’t anyone suspect foul play?’

  Nikki read on. ‘Seems like they put it down to death by misadventure. Would be interested to see what Langley makes of the PM photos.’

  Langley, dressed and ready for work, entered. ‘Someone using my name in vain? Give me a minute to get some breakfast and I’ll have a look.’ He wandered into the kitchen, set the coffee machine off and expertly sliced some bread. Five minutes later, munching on toast with gooseberry jam – who the hell eats gooseberry jam? Langley studied the photos.

  ‘They should really have picked up on these marks, which bear some resemblance to those found on Khal’s bones. Thing is, the victim was homeless and an alcoholic and had been missing for years. This probably wasn’t too much of a priority at the time. They found a narrative that fitted and they stuck with that. It’s only in the light of the numerous remains found in the Odeon car park, that you’re picking up on these now. Which, by the way, is my cue to head off. Got a busy day ahead of me.’ He skirted the table, kissed Sajid, and with a wave in Nikki’s direction, headed to the door. ‘If this Mark Hodgson was buried and if you get an excavation order, I’ll happily compare the marks. As it stands, I couldn’t testify with any certainty.’

  Nikki nodded. Another option to explore, but first they’d need to find something a bit more compelling to encourage Archie to pressure Springer into linking the Odeon bones with the Sunbridge Wells ones.

  Chapter 31

  He hammered on the door, glancing around as he did so. He’d waited till he saw that Nikki bint piss off out in her car and he was sure that Anika was on her own. Her old man was probably giving it some with his other family.

  Anika was an issue for him – she held a strange fascination for him, one that unfortunately appeared not to be mutual. When she opened the door, he groaned. What the fuck was she wearing one of those bloody Paki scarves for? Made her look 50. Stupid bitch. He reached out to pull her hijab from her head and she jerked back. Her face paled and the smile faded from her lips as she tried to push the door shut.

 

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