Cold Blood by Jane Heafield (great books to read txt) 📕

the landing, hit the wake button. The device immediately opened onto Facebook Messenger. Top of the list of message recipients: Lorraine. Joe had written HI IT IS JOE HOW ARE YOU? Seven hours ago now, but no tick to show she’d read it. What if Joe didn’t know what that tick meant? Maybe he believed his mother had ignored him. Maybe she had.

Was this Bennet’s fault? Had he promised too much, too early? Had he made a mistake by giving Joe his mother’s new name, thus allowing him to find her on social media? Had he already ruined any chance mother and son had at reconciliation with that stupid message he’d sent, warning her to stay away?

He felt like crying into his own pillow. This entire day was one he wished he could erase from history.

30

His phone rang at four in the morning, but he was already awake. A dream had roused him minutes earlier. Not quite a dream, but a memory.

I can’t help you. I’m sorry.

His last words to Anika, mother of a missing, possibly dead young girl. He’d investigated missing people before, perhaps two dozen, and in every single case he’d performed as a police officer bound by duty. That meant consoling a worried family member and promising to provide them with answers, good or bad. Sometimes the missing turned up and his team backed off, but often a body was found and the investigation hit turbo boost. Sometimes there was glorious success and sometimes there was nightmare failure. But the constant was always that pledge to do everything in his power to right the wrong.

Until this last time. That he wasn’t attached to the Sally Jenkins case, or even there in a police capacity, didn’t matter. He had still stood before the girl’s traumatised mother and as good as shrugged her off: I can’t help you.

The memory burned him because he had never experienced it before. Even if Sally rode home tomorrow on a golden horse, twenty years old and beautiful and rich, he would experience this nightmare for days to come. Somehow, it was worse than if he’d agreed to help Anika and then delivered her a corpse.

The ringing phone cut into his thoughts. Unknown number. He snatched it up, sure it was Lorraine. For the moment, Anika’s hellish world was forgotten.

‘Have you seen Lorraine?’ a male voice said. ‘I just finished my night shift. She’s not at home. I called people, but no one’s heard from her.’

It took Bennet’s sleepy brain a moment to orientate. He realised he was speaking to Lorraine’s husband. ‘No. You haven’t heard from her?’

‘No, I said no one has. I know you two had history. I thought she might have told you what she was doing. We didn’t argue, so I’m worried.’

Bennet sat up, instantly fully awake. ‘She tried to get my help. I left a message on social media, but I’ve not heard back. She went to Lampton? She didn’t return? There’s no evidence in the house that she came back?’

‘No, she hasn’t been back. She went off to do a documentary with some people. She was supposed to be away Sunday and Monday, back Tuesday evening. She didn’t come back.’

‘She never contacted you at all while she was away?’

‘No. Sometimes we go days without, you know? It gets like that after you’ve been with someone a while, doesn’t it?’

Bennet wouldn’t know, at least for the last decade. ‘Do you know who the film crew are? Any contact numbers? Did you meet them?’

‘No. She dealt with all that. She drove off to meet them, down in Oxford. But after that I didn’t hear from her. She was looking forward to the trip. I’ve been working nights, so I was asleep when she went, and I wouldn’t try to call her at night while I’m working.’

Bennet put the phone on speaker on the bedside table so he could talk as he got dressed.

‘Look around the house, look for a note or something to do with the film crew. When she contacted these people, she might have written something down. Look for a name or a number, perhaps on a flyer, because that’s how she contacted them.’

‘I know that someone called Joe contacted her on Facebook. I saw that. There’s been no activity on her account since I last saw her, though, which is also strange. She posts a lot. I’ll go look at this Joe’s profile and see what’s what.’

Bennet was dismayed, and not just because a simmering fear about Lorraine had now ignited into an inferno. He’d always wondered how her new family felt knowing an old family was out there. Now he had his answer: they didn’t feel anything, because they didn’t know. Lorraine’s daughter didn’t know she had an older half-brother. Her husband had no clue his wife had had a child years before she met him.

‘Joe’s nothing to do with this,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘He’s someone I know. Look for that note. Stay by this phone. I’m going to call you again within half an hour. Okay?’

‘Should I report her missing? This just seems bad. Did that film crew do something to her?’

‘Just do what I said. I’ll get back to you.’

He hung up, his head a muddle. He’d spent a day hunting Lorraine, without success. He should have had more answers for her husband. He should have found her.

But now he had no shackles, and he would find her. He called Detective Constable Hooper. No answer at such an hour, so he left a message: Call me the moment you get this.

Dressed, he got a key from one of the kitchen drawers, then headed into Joe’s room. He lifted him, still in his duvet, and carried him from the house. The cold wind outside didn’t stir the boy, nor did he wake when Bennet almost dropped him while unlocking Patricia’s front door. He put Joe on the sofa and sent Patricia a text saying he had to go out and Joe was