Chapter Twenty-Nine
‘Do you think they’re after the total number of EAWs issued, or just those where an extradition hearing has actually taken place?’
‘Sorry – what?’ Rachel looked up at Brickall with a start.
‘I’m talking about European Arrest Warrants. What’s the matter with you? Your head’s completely missing today.’
‘Nothing.’ She went back to staring at her screen.
He shot her a sharp look, but Rachel ignored him and kept her head down. A few minutes later, she abruptly shut down the screen she was looking at and marched back to Nigel Patten’s office, rapping smartly on the open door.
‘DI Prince. How can I help you?’ His expression was not one of a person who wished to help.
‘Sir, I’ve just been checking my leave card, and I’ve got nine days carried over from last year. Which, if I don’t take them in the next five weeks, I won’t be able to use at all.’
‘Go on,’ he sighed.
‘So I’m going to take them now.’
‘Now as in?’
‘Today, sir. You can count the rest of the afternoon as a full day.’
Patten grimaced. He looked tired, but then he’d looked permanently tired ever since his paternity leave. ‘You are aware, Detective Inspector, that you need me to sign off on this. And also that with this inspection coming up, we’re at our busiest.’
Rachel kept her gaze level and her tone neutral. ‘I am sir. But can I remind you that I haven’t taken any time off in over seven months. Since before Scotland.’
‘I know you’ve worked hard, DI Prince. And you did a good job on the Nigerian trafficking case. But—’
‘I came in early this morning and worked on the fugitive figures.’ By early, she meant five thirty, fuelled by two double espressos. ‘I’ve got a spreadsheet and PowerPoint presentation all prepared. I’ll send them to you and copy in DS Brickall.’
‘What about your DCI board? Isn’t that about to happen?’
‘Still a couple of weeks away. I’ll be back in time.’
‘What if I say no?’ As she stood her ground, Patten continued: ‘No, don’t answer that. But have it on the record that I’m only agreeing with extreme reluctance. And I want you back here at the end of your nine days leave.’
‘That’s thirteen days, sir. If you add weekends. Which means I’ll be back in the office the day before my promotion board. So it all works out perfectly.’
She left the room before he could change his mind and almost skipped back to her seat, plonking herself down and scanning her inbox for any last-minute loose ends, while stuffing her things into her bag.
‘What are you doing?’ demanded Brickall. ‘Did somebody die?’
‘What the hell for? You never take leave. Oh, hold on –’ he slapped his hand to his forehead – ‘this is about that bloody case, isn’t it?’
Rachel ignored the question, standing up and shouldering her bag. ‘See you a week next Monday.’
Brickall very pointedly turned away and absorbed himself in his computer screen. Rachel waved to his back. She didn’t like leaving him when he was so down, but he was an adult after all, and she wasn’t going for long. ‘Well… bye then,’ she called.
He did not reply.
After booking her flight for first thing the next morning, and wincing at the last-minute prices, Rachel reached for her suitcase and started filling it. She was interrupted by the doorbell.
Joe stood there, his tall figure looming over a tiny, pretty girl with masses of wavy brown hair and huge brown eyes.
‘Er… hi!’ Rachel said.
Joe spotted the suitcase through the open bedroom door. ‘You’re not off somewhere again? Only we were having a drink in Bermondsey Street and I thought we might as well pop by.’
‘No problem, I’m flying first thing tomorrow, so I’ve got a couple of hours before I need to get some shut-eye. Come in… come in.’
Joe placed his arm protectively round the waist of the girl as he steered her into the flat. ‘Great. I wanted you to meet Sophie. Sophie – this is my mum.’
‘Hi,’ Sophie said, with a shy little wave.
Rachel felt a little ripple of pleasure at his use of the ‘m’ word. He usually addressed her as Rachel. ‘Mum’ was his adoptive mother, Jane.
‘There are beers in the fridge, or I’ve got wine?’
Sophie accepted wine, Joe helped himself to a beer and Rachel poured herself a mineral water and set out a bowl of crisps. They chatted happily for forty-five minutes about Rachel’s work, Joe’s internship and Sophie’s fine arts course, then Rachel packed up a carrier bag with all the viable fridge contents and gave it to Joe, along with a set of spare keys to the flat before returning to her packing. She whistled tunelessly to herself as she threw clothes in the suitcase, happiness making her light-hearted. Seeing her son always left her like this. Happy, and so very grateful.
As the taxi pulled away down a near-silent Jamaica Road the next morning, Rachel phoned Rob’s number. It went to voicemail. She quickly checked her watch – it would late evening there, and she’d hoped to catch him before he went to bed. Then she cleared her throat.
‘Listen, it’s me. I know this is a bit sudden, but I’ve managed to take some time off and I’m coming over. To Washington DC; it makes most sense to start there and I got a seat on an early flight. So, guess I’ll see you soon. I’ll call when I arrive.’
Once she was in the departure lounge waiting to board, she texted Brickall.
I’m really sorry Mark…
She hardly ever called him by his first name.
I know you’re pissed off with me, but please understand I just can’t not finish this. I’ll see you very soon. R x
He was surgically attached to his mobile and always replied to texts instantly, unless he was driving or asleep. She checked her phone every few minutes, but there was no response. There was, however, an email from an address she did not recognise.
From: Abigail Harris
To: Rachel Prince
I hope this is okay. I was talking with Paige Chen about Tiffany and she gave me your card because she told me you were trying to find who would want to kill her, and I said I wanted to say something about that. I don’t know who killed her, but I’m not surprised somebody did want to. Tiffany Kovak was really mean. At school she was the biggest bitch. When we were in eighth grade and I got my period, she stuck her phone under the cubicle door in the toilets and took pictures of me. In tenth grade she told Tyler Roth that I was in love with him even after I begged her not to. She was absolutely awful to Mindy Poole, just because she was heavy. Used to call her a fat pig and to her face too. Anyhow I just wanted to tell you this, she was not a nice person. It was not me that killed her but I kind of wish I had. Sincerely, Abbie Harris.
Rachel read and re-read this. I’m not surprised that someone wanted to kill her. Exactly what Lauren had said about Phoebe.
The flight started boarding, but as she walked to the plane there was still no response from Brickall. Asleep, then? Fair enough. When she landed at Dulles and switched her mobile on again, she knew he would be only be sitting at his desk, going through arrest warrants. Still no reply.
She continued checking her phone screen intermittently while she was at baggage claim, and as she walked through the arrivals hall.
‘I said hi!’
She looked up. Rob was standing in her path.
‘I figured you’d be on this flight, so I thought I’d come and meet you.’ He swept her up in a hug. She surrendered to it completely. It felt good.
‘You came back,’ he said into her hair.
‘I did.’
They straightened up, and he took her bag from her, leading the way through the milling arrivals hall traffic. ‘Come on Miss Tenacity, you and I have got work to do.’