The Victim Page 4

  Day encouraged her with a nod. “You said he told you he was armed with a knife. Did you actually see the weapon?”

  Gem closed her eyes briefly, flinching at the image of a curved blade glinting in the darkness. “I think I saw it. Yes, I did see the knife. The blade was curved, and the handle was black, I think. I was so terrified, I couldn’t think straight and…”

  “That’s okay,” Day said. “That’s good. Very good. What about the attacker? Could you give us a description?”

  When the carjacker had pressed close to her and stared into her eyes, Gem had thought she’d never forget that face, never be free of the look he’d given her, but her mind had already started airbrushing his features.

  “He was tall, definitely tall, and lean. He was strong, so strong there really was nothing I could do. It would have been crazy to try. He was wearing a dark beanie hat, pulled down, but the hair I could see was darkish too. Clean-shaven, I think, maybe a bit of stubble. I don’t know what color his eyes were, but they were deep set. I’d say he had an east London accent and I…I don’t know.”

  Day glanced across at Shields, and she shook her head. “That’ll do for now,” he said. “If you recall anything else you might think is important, you know where we are. You’ve been great. Really helpful.”

  Gem stood at the sitting room window and watched the detectives get into their car and drive off. She hated being stuck at home, but Drew had called her office and told them she’d need at least a week, maybe even two, before she’d be well enough to return to work.

  That had angered her. She’d had to make decisions for herself at an early age. The day before her ninth birthday, she’d finally allowed herself to believe that her father hadn’t abandoned her because she wasn’t clever enough or pretty enough. He’d left because he had a problem, he wasn’t good enough. Since then, she’d always prided herself on her independence.

  Sure, she understood Drew thought he was doing her a favor, but she’d snapped at him for interfering when he’d told her what he’d done. He’d be happy if she never went back to work at all.

  Gem walked into the kitchen, filled a glass with tap water, and swallowed two of the painkillers the hospital doctor had prescribed for her. She didn’t want to upset Drew, but she wasn’t staying cooped up at home for two weeks. Besides, she’d set her sights on earning a promotion, so the sooner she got back to the office the better. She’d been putting off telling Drew because she knew how he’d react.

  She loved her job, and she didn’t want him to get used to the idea of her waiting at home for him like some kind of Stepford wife. There was no way that was going to happen, and he was just going to have to accept it.

  The Detective

  It was only three miles from Gem Golding’s Shoreditch home to Hackney police station, but the traffic on Dalston Lane crawled at a snail’s pace, and Day had to fight a strong urge to get out of the car and walk. Shields had been driving for ten minutes, and the station was still two miles away.

  Day stared out the passenger-side window at the busy restaurants, wine bars, and cafés. Gentrification had seen Georgian terraced homes torn down and a rapid increase of property prices in the area.

  “What sort of salaries do you think they earn? The mortgage on that house must be huge.”

  Shields braked as the traffic slowed to a standstill. “I think public relations pays quite well, and Bentley is an employment lawyer. Advises people who’ve been fired on the best way they can screw compensation out of their former employers.”

  Day nodded. He’d considered getting legal advice about fighting his demotion but decided not to push it. He’d been lucky to be allowed to stay on the force at all, and he knew it. The traffic started moving, and Shields shifted into gear. She didn’t elaborate further on Bentley’s work, and as the silence stretched, Day sensed her thoughts had also turned to his stalled career.

  “I guess you know the reason I was kicked off the murder investigation team?”

  Shields flicked him a cautious sideways look. “I think every cop in the city has heard what happened. Some version of the story anyway.”

  Day grunted. He knew well enough what police officers were like when it came to gossip. “Tell me what people are saying about me, and I’ll tell you if they’re right. What about that for an offer?”

  Shields changed gear but said nothing. Day understood that she probably didn’t want to offend a new boss, especially as they hadn’t worked together long enough to form any kind of understanding.

  “I’d like to know what story is going around,” he said. “Don’t worry though. I won’t shoot the messenger. Even if the message is a pile of crap.”

  Shields kept her eyes on the bumper of the car in front. “Well, er, the word is that you assaulted another murder squad detective and threatened to throw him out a window.”

  Day let out a long sigh. “That’s surprisingly accurate. Spot-on actually. Do the gossipmongers know that the window was on the third floor of New Scotland Yard and that my wife had left me, taken our son, and moved in with the bastard?”

  Shields shot him another look and shook her head.

  “Well, they do now,” Day said.

  11

  Fight

  Gem the Warrior

  Gem ran the bath as hot as she could bear and added the bubbles, stirring the water with her fingertips. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply through her nose as the sweet aroma of orange and vanilla filled the room.

  She lit the candles placed around the bath and climbed in, lying back slowly until the foam covered her shoulders. After a few seconds, she reached behind her, lifted the large glass of chilled chardonnay off the ledge, and took a long sip.

  As a child, she’d have a bath once a week. A quick soap, rinse, and out within minutes. Now, it was her favorite place to relax and pamper herself, and she definitely needed pampering after everything she’d been through.

  She’d given a full statement to the police, and they’d assured her and Drew that they would be doing everything possible to bring the carjacker to justice. Gem took another sip of wine. She supposed she should feel proud of herself, challenging a violent criminal and getting away unscathed, but the whole episode had unsettled her.

  As the only child of a single parent, she’d not had an easy childhood, but she’d never before had to face that kind of physical threat, and even though she’d come out on top, she knew that it could so easily have ended differently.

  She’d driven out of the parking lot on such an adrenaline high, she’d almost felt invincible. That feeling hadn’t lasted long. She’d never describe herself as naive, but the cold realization that there were people in the world who would harm her and find pleasure in it made her feel more vulnerable than she’d ever felt before.

  Because of that, she was in no hurry to go back to work, which surprised her. She loved her job and was working toward climbing the ladder and maybe even setting up her own company one day, but since the attack, she couldn’t even think about launching a new product or promoting the opening of a nightclub.

  Gem looked at the nearest candle and studied the flickering blue and yellow flame. Violent crime was widespread across the city, with sex assaults, armed robberies, and street stabbings reported in newspapers and on the TV every day, but like most people, she had never imagined anything like that would happen to her.

  She took a deep breath, slid down the bath, and slipped her head under the water. After a few seconds, she surfaced and smoothed her hair back over her ears. That night, she had made a split-second decision to fight. Had she done the right thing, or had she simply gotten lucky? What scared her the most was that if it happened to her once, it could happen again.

  The Reporter

  Matt Revell switched off his cell phone, flipped it onto his desk, and grinned from ear to ear. He had spent a lot of time, effort, and a
fair chunk of his expenses cultivating police contacts across the city, and he loved it when it paid off.

  He swiveled in his chair, scanning the two rows of desks in front of him. As always, the newsroom buzzed with reporters either yelling or whispering into their phones, while others tapped frantically at their keyboards, their eyes fixed determinedly on their computer screens.

  Some of his fellow newshounds were friends, others no more than professional acquaintances, but they had one thing in common. They were all his rivals. They were constantly chasing stories that would be given the most prominent slots in the paper, desperately seeking the thrill of seeing their byline at the top of the report.

  Poor suckers, Revell thought. If only they knew. A story guaranteed to be splashed across the front page had just fallen into his lap. He could imagine the headline: Woman Fights Off Carjacker, Then Mows Him Down. Or maybe Courageous Victim Fights Off Knifeman.

  Revell knew the sub-editors would probably come up with something snappier, but all he really cared about in the end was that they spelled his name correctly.

  He stood up and headed for the news desk, a swagger in his step. The first move would be to let the news editor know that his brilliant journalistic instincts had produced the goods yet again. Then he’d start the ball rolling by putting in a call to the Metropolitan Police press office.

  The Detective

  Day opened his office door and yelled across the squad room. “Shields, I need a word in here now.”

  He watched the detective sergeant rise from behind her desk and walk over to the watercooler. Slowly and deliberately, she filled a plastic cup, drank half of it, and poured the rest away before heading for his office.

  Day held the door open for her, a sheepish smile on his face. “Sorry about that,” he said. “The press room has just called, and to say I’m pissed off is an understatement.”

  Shields sat down and arched an eyebrow. “What’s happened?”

  “There’s been a leak on the Golding case. Some smug reporter on the Daily News knows the full story, how she fought back and ran the carjacker over. I bet the paper’s editor is wetting her pants with excitement. Not-so-helpless woman takes on violent attacker and triumphs. The press loves that kind of bullshit.”

  Shields thought for a moment. “They won’t be able to name her if she is a victim of sexual assault.”

  Day nodded. “Of course not, but we haven’t classified this as a sexual offense yet, have we?”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Day walked over to the window and searched the gray sky for an answer. “The press guys suggest we cooperate and go all out with coverage. The story’s going to be out there anyway. That way, we may have some control, and maybe someone somewhere will come forward with some information.”

  “What’s your instinct?”

  “I think they’re probably right. We’ve had nothing of any use from the police e-fit sketch and limited press release we’ve put out. I don’t think this suspect is going to go away. He’s not going to hold his hands up and decide to be a good boy from now on. Sooner or later, he’s going to do the same again, and next time, the victim might not be so lucky.”

  Shields pursed her lips. “We can’t do the big news story, a TV press conference, without Golding agreeing. That’s a big ask. If I were in her shoes, I’d think carefully about putting myself in the public eye.”

  Day turned away from the window, walked back, and slid behind his desk. “I’m not sure you’re right, Cat,” he said. The emphasis he put on the short form of her name made Shields smile.

  “She stood up to this guy and took him on, didn’t she? I’d be surprised if she was too shy to speak out about what happened. I’d like you to pay her a visit and ask her to step up. Explain to her the benefits of extensive media coverage and how it will increase the prospect of catching her attacker. I’ve got a feeling she’ll be up for it.”

  12

  Surrender

  Gem the Victim

  London Fields was one of Gem’s favorite places to walk on weekends, especially when Drew agreed to go with her. The morning had started off gray, but by midday, the hazy spring sun had burned away the cloud cover.

  “This bloody plaster cast itches like crazy,” she said, nodding at the sling that held her broken wrist against her chest. Drew laughed and squeezed her good hand. Since the attack, she’d noticed that he’d been extra attentive and had started coming home from the office early so they could spend more time together.

  As they passed the high wall encircling the park’s popular outdoor swimming pool, the air ringing with the sounds of voices, laughter, and vigorous splashing, they exchanged smiles.

  “I’ll cook dinner tonight,” Drew said, squeezing Gem’s hand again.

  “I can help, you know. I’m not completely useless, even with only one fully functioning arm.”

  “There’s no need. I want to treat you. I’ve got a bottle of your favorite wine too.”

  Gem leaned in and kissed him on the lips. As they pulled apart, she decided to take the plunge and break the news. “I think I’m going to go back to work next week. I know you want me to take at least two weeks off, but there’s no need.”

  Drew said nothing, but Gem felt his grip on her hand tighten.

  “I’m going mad being stuck at home, and apart from the discomfort of this plaster cast, I’m feeling fine. I can work at my desk and don’t have to attend any evening events until the cast is off.”

  Drew stayed silent, but after a few paces, Gem felt him relax.

  “If that’s what you really want to do, it’s fine with me,” he said. “After what happened, I’m going to worry about you, of course, but we can’t let the bastard who attacked you control our lives, can we?”

  Gem sighed. Drew was trying so hard not to show it, but she knew he’d prefer her to not work at all, or at least switch to a job that was less demanding. He’d never been able to explain to her properly why he felt like this. In the past, whenever she challenged him on it, he’d claim he worried about her being out late, that things were going so well at work that he’d be getting a huge pay raise. Inevitably, they’d end up arguing. Gem had often wondered whether his strangely old-fashioned views were the result of his years spent in foster care. He refused to talk in detail about his time in the children’s home, but she knew he’d never been part of a family, never had a proper home life.

  Maybe he was at last trying to come to terms with the fact that the size of his salary, and his feelings about her late hours, would never influence the way she wanted to live her life. That wasn’t who she was. They’d been together long enough for him to know how much she loved her career and how hard she’d worked for it. He’d have to suck it up.

  “I’m glad you feel that way,” she said. “If I’m going to get the promotion I want, I need to show I’m dedicated. A broken wrist isn’t going to stop me.”

  Drew put his arms around her and hugged her tight. “If you’re happy, I’m happy. I’m just relieved that you survived your encounter with that madman and are getting better.”

  Hand in hand, they headed along a path they knew would take them through the park’s wildflower meadow. They hadn’t spoken in detail about the attack in the four days since Gem had been discharged from the hospital. Drew always seemed to have something urgent to do whenever she brought the subject up. Since he’d raised it this time, she grabbed her opportunity.

  “Tell me if I’m wrong, but I got the feeling in the hospital that you thought I should have done more, should have put up some kind of resistance.”

  Drew turned and looked her directly in the eyes. “I was upset about what had happened, so scared for you, that’s all. He caught you by surprise, and he was armed. What else could you have done? I don’t know what I would have done if he had seriously harmed you, or worse. It honestly doesn’t matter what y
ou did or didn’t do. You’re here now, and that’s all that I care about.”

  Gem nodded, grateful that he had thought things through. The problem was, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she should have put up more of a struggle. Not put her life at risk, nothing like that, but she would have liked to have shown more defiance. If she had, maybe she wouldn’t feel so damn guilty.

  She sensed Drew’s discomfort, but she had things she needed to tell him. “Believe me, I wanted to kick him, scream, and bite him. I really did. But a voice in my head kept telling me to be careful. Don’t make him angry, don’t drive him to do something he hadn’t thought about doing. I felt so helpless. He had a knife. I was so terrified, I think I froze.”

  Drew didn’t say anything. He stopped walking and wrapped his arms around her again. She buried her face in his chest, but her eyes stayed dry. She was determined not to succumb to fear. Never again.

  “The worst thing is that monster is still out there, wandering around the city, biding his time before choosing his next victim,” she said. “He gets a kick out of terrifying and hurting people, pure and simple.”

  The Mastermind

  Con Norton sat on the grass, his knees up, his back propped against the trunk of one of the many plane trees surrounding the park’s green spaces. From his vantage point, he watched the couple embrace. So romantic, he thought. It made him want to puke. Though maybe everything wasn’t quite as it seemed. He had a pretty good idea what Bentley was up to. Using the girlfriend’s ordeal to cement his position, make himself indispensable. No doubt he was being incredibly understanding about what had happened. Would she be stupid enough to fall for it? Probably, Norton told himself.

  If only she knew what her loving partner was really like. As slippery as an eel and twice as fishy. A man who couldn’t be trusted to honor his promises. A deceiver and betrayer.