memories. She pulled the little bottle of vodka from her bag. As soon as she got home, it was hers. Stuff it, she’d stop on the way back and stock up on wine. There was no one left to try for, not even herself.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Jacob’s voice crackled through the hands-free but Gina couldn’t make out what was being said as she drove down the snaking Warwickshire roads in the dark. She thought of her home and how cold it would be when she got back. She’d sit and pore over the case notes and slowly her thoughts would turn to those letters and what they were doing to her. She realised she was gripping the steering wheel.
‘I can’t hear you. I’ll call you when I get home. Hello, hello?’ It was no good trying, he’d gone. All she knew was that the dog search had finished for the night, ready to resume in the morning and so far, nothing had been found. She exhaled. That wasn’t a bad thing. She also reminded herself that so little ground had been covered. Some of the officers were going to continue under torchlight for a while but they wouldn’t be able to keep that up for too long. If Penny was out there somewhere, she hoped they’d find her.
Her throat contracted. Whether the sheer panicky thoughts of someone else in a box caused that reaction or whether it was the severe lack of food in her system, she didn’t know. No breakfast and no lunch, that was the sum of the meals she’d had – none. All she’d had was a couple of biscuits. A wave of nausea crept from her throat to her rumbling gut. There was a block of cheese and a packet of crackers waiting for her back home. She’d refuel while she cranked up the laptop for the evening.
The press had almost stopped her completely as she’d left the station and Lyndsey’s final words were like a punch to her gut. ‘Do you know what people in the village are saying? They know all about your past. How your husband beat you senseless. You should talk to me, put your side over. People love to hear a real-life story especially when it’s embroiled in the case of the coffin killer. Talk to me, DI Harte. I can help you.’
It wasn’t Briggs who sent the letter. Somehow, everyone seemed to know her business, her secrets. She almost let out a small cry as she thought of them all finding out her big secret. Maybe she was safe in the knowledge that the circumstances surrounding Terry’s death were undiscovered, as Lyndsey wouldn’t have been able to hold back on reporting that if she knew.
The press had left several messages on her mobile, and her office phone had rung constantly. They all wanted to know the same thing. Why hadn’t they made any arrests? Was the coffin killer slipping through their fingers? Would the coffin killer strike again? The coffin killer – that’s the name they’d settled on. Did her past have anything to do with the coffin killer choosing her?
Another snaking lane led to yet another as she got deeper into the heart of her rural village setting. On a clearer day she’d see her house in the distance, but not in the dark. As she trundled around a bend, taking it slowly, she saw a car in a verge, the glint of her own headlights on its bonnet, catching her eye. There was movement in the darkness. She pulled up on the opposite side of the road, grabbed her phone and got out of the car. No signal. She walked a little further and held it up. One bar.
‘Hello.’
A voice came from the side of the car. ‘My baby, please help my baby. I’m hurt but I’m okay. It’s just my ankle, I can’t walk. Please tell me my baby is okay.’
‘Police, I’m checking in your car now. Stay still in case you’ve broken anything.’ She checked her phone again but the signal had gone again.
The baby seat was empty and the changing bag had opened out everywhere. Milk splattered the back seat and the interior light was out. She felt around for anything and not a cry or breath could be heard. Panic rose in her chest. No, not tonight. She couldn’t find a dead baby, she just couldn’t. She grabbed her phone, using it to light up the car. Her gaze caught the rear-view mirror then her stomach