Buried (DC Jack Warr #1) - Lynda La Plante Page 0,74

over him. Something wasn’t right with her manner, her words, her tone; she was lying and he knew it.

‘Whose baby did you lose?’ he asked abruptly. ‘You previously told me that you put flowers on Dolly’s grave because you let her down. You said you’d made a mistake and you lost a baby. This was back around 1995, when you were all living at The Grange?’

Angela glanced up at the high shelf, far out of reach of sticky young fingers, at the two lone toys in pride of place – the teddy bear and the teething ring. Jack followed her gaze. He needed to be more careful. This loss was still raw.

‘It must have been awful. I’m very sorry.’ He paused. ‘Did Mike know?’ he asked gently.

She rounded on him. ‘PC Withey was not the mistake I mentioned. If you insist on prying, I was attacked. I’d call it rape if I’d been sober enough to remember it actually happening. Five weeks later, I was pregnant. And I didn’t lose the baby, DC Warr, I drank bleach and I killed it. My body simply couldn’t keep us both alive. That’s how I let Dolly Rawlins down. She bought the bear and teether – she loved me and, by default, she loved my baby. I took both from her that day.’

Angela stared at him, strong and defiant, as if willing him to question her further.

Jack got to his feet. Even though he was certain she was telling the truth, he sensed there was something she was holding back. Nothing he could do about it for now.

‘Thank you for your time, Mrs Dunn,’ he said, and left.

*

Angela stood on the balcony, staring down as Jack Warr got into his car. As soon as he’d driven off, she went inside and picked up her mobile.

‘No, no, don’t worry, nothing’s happened,’ she said. ‘But the police are on to something. I’ve just had a visit. DC Warr. He doesn’t know anything yet, but he’ll get there in the end. We need to meet.’ There was a pause. ‘Thursday. You OK to come here? It’s just, with the kids, you know? Listen – take a breath before you call her. We’re not panicking. We’re doing exactly what we planned, just a little bit sooner.’

When she hung up, she sat down and took a deep breath herself, letting her shoulders slump and her head fall back.

When she was ready, she sprung up from the sofa and headed out. Angela was unshakable.

*

In Taunton, Connie sat at her dining table with a gin in one hand and her mobile in the other.

‘Breathe,’ she repeatedly whispered to herself. By the time she’d dialled Julia’s number, she was half pissed.

Julia sounded breezy.

‘Thursday’s fine,’ she said. ‘Love you.’

She hung up before Connie could start on all the things that could go wrong, and dialled another number.

‘Darling,’ Ester sang. ‘Still gorgeous? Who’s seeing to you these days? Boys or girls?’

Angela had put together the call chain. Connie was in the middle, so Angela and Julia could each do their bit to keep her calm and focused. And calling Ester was Julia’s job, because she knew best how to handle the cantankerous old witch. She ignored Ester’s questions.

‘Can you come to Angela’s on Thursday?’

‘Are we leaving?’

‘I doubt we’re leaving yet, but we’ll be planning our next move and—’

‘I’m not coming all the way to London to do more talking, Julia. Call me back when we’re leaving. And if our self-appointed glorious leader wants to discuss that further, she can call me her-fucking-self.’

‘When will you ever learn, Ester?’ Julia wasn’t angry; she spoke like a disappointed mother faced with her perpetually aggravating child. ‘You need people in life, you know. You need friends.’

‘I have Geoffrey.’ Ester was defiant. ‘He’s in a dominant mood this week, so we haven’t left the house since Friday. He’s gone all Gladiator on me.’ Her tone shifted and she became nasty. ‘So, you call me when we’re leaving! I’ve done my bit, Julia. I’m old. You do the donkey work and I’ll pop up towards the end, take my share and fuck off into the sunset. I will not be told what to do by Angela bleedin’ Dunn.’

And that was the real reason for Ester’s frustrations.

Angela’s leadership had happened organically. Connie and Julia had never objected, but Ester hated it. In Ester’s egotistical, narcissistic, petty little mind, she was the natural successor to Dolly Rawlins. Angela was nothing more than a stupid girl who, back in the 1980s when