measures – yeah?’
Felicity recognized the voice itself but couldn’t place it. Without a face to go with it, she just couldn’t remember. She couldn’t risk looking, had to play unconscious. Keep her eyes closed and focus on keeping still. Not that it would do her any good, not with a bullet through her brain. So much for channelling Nikki fucking Parekh!
Citrusy man snorted and then the van lifted again. ‘Okay, I’m counting on you. Get on with it.’
The click of a semi-automatic pistol being cocked echoed in Felicity’s ears. Her breath caught in her throat and it was all she could do not to scream out loud. She sent up a final prayer that Stevie would be all right. She needed to believe that Stevie would be all right … especially now. She hadn’t quite finished her frantic prayers when the shot fired out, extra loud in the van … followed by silence.
Felicity Springer lived in Eccleshill, just behind The Oddfellows Arms on Harrogate Road. As Nikki turned onto Springer’s street, the sight of the pub made Nikki realize that she and Sajid still hadn’t found a new pub to make their local. Although The Mannville Arms was supposedly opening again under new management, Nikki doubted that she’d ever be able to set foot in it again. Not after everything that had happened. A year on and still the very thought of the place made her shudder. Dreams of rats chasing her through the underground tunnels soon morphed into a human assailant and even now, Nikki often woke up drenched in sweat, her breath ragged, her heart thudding. Marcus, half asleep, would stretch out an arm and pull her to his chest, holding her tight till she felt safe enough to drift off to sleep again.
Now wasn’t the time to think about that though. She’d something far worse on her mind and the very thought of it chilled her to the marrow. Her mum had confided in her once that her biggest fear was the thought of two police officers landing on her doorstep to deliver just the sort of news Nikki was going to deliver now. The chances were extremely slim, she told her mother, yet history told her that you could never be too sure of that.
Her clapped-out old Zafira felt overcrowded with Archie rammed into the passenger seat beside her as she pulled up onto the kerb a few feet from number thirty-six. The car’s erratic heating system had dried their snow-covered outer garments, leaving a damp smell lingering in the air. The fact that Archie kept fidgeting and practising his words under his breath was distracting and Nikki wished the whole thing was over. There were, after all, only so many ways you could tell a relative that their loved one had been abducted and was injured, possibly dead. Apart from that, Nikki was still angry with Archie, but she had to get over that before they approached the house.
‘What do we know about The Spaniel, Archie? She married or what?’ Although Nikki and Springer had worked in the same building for years, Nikki knew nothing about the other woman’s home life. Truth was, Nikki avoided Springer as much as possible and she suspected Springer did the same. They were more enemies than friends and that niggled at Nikki. It was difficult enough to be present when a relative was notified of something like this, but having to offer insincere platitudes about how popular Springer was and what a good officer she was went against the grain. She’d do it though. It was part of the job. She was just relieved that Archie was the one doing the talking. All she’d need to do was to nod in the right place and look suitably solemn.
‘Don’t know much.’ Archie’s voice was gruff. ‘Records say she’s married, but nobody, not even DC Bashir kens anything about her. Next of kin is down as her spouse Stevie Blake. Shit, Nikki. How am I going tae dae this? What if I get ma proverbials in a knot? It’s ages since I’ve delivered a …’
He hesitated, and Nikki knew he had been about to say death notice. She turned off the engine, leaned across and squeezed his arm. ‘We’ve no evidence to say she’s dead yet. You know that. We need to keep it upbeat. Get the lay of the land. She might have kids, for all we know.’ Although the very thought of Springer deigning to go through childbirth seemed very unlikely to Nikki. ‘Tell you what, Archie. I’ll do it.’
Archie’s lips twitched as he extricated himself from his seat belt, opened the door and stepped onto the road. ‘Since when have you been Ms Sensitive, Nikita Parekh?’ he said over the top of the car when Nikki had emerged from the other side. ‘Nae chance, hen. I’ll dae it myself.’
Nikki opened her mouth to argue and then sighed. Archie was right, she was definitely not Ms Sensitive. But she could make the tea. ‘Okay, you win.’ Then, grumbling as she joined him on the pavement, added, ‘That’s why I said Sajid would have been a better choice.’
Together they opened the gate and walked up to the door. Springer’s house was a modern-built semi with a drive with enough room for two cars. It was occupied by a sporty-looking vehicle that Nikki assumed would be well above Springer’s pay grade, and she wondered what exactly Springer’s partner did for a living. Parallel to the drive was a paved area with a few plant pots and some covered garden furniture. It was strange to think of the missing woman as a person and not just a colleague she didn’t get on with. No matter what her personal feelings for Springer were, she felt sorry for the poor sod – her husband – whose life they were about to disrupt. The lights were on, but the curtains were only half shut and before Archie and Nikki reached the front door it was wrenched open by a striking woman. With a mane of red hair cascading over her shoulders, she was at least a foot taller than Nikki. And she was pregnant.
Archie, eyes automatically drawn to the woman’s belly, coughed. ‘I’m DCI Archie Hegley and this is DS Parekh. We work with DS Springer, can we come in?’
The woman looked from Archie to Nikki and then back again, before her hand flew up to her mouth. Without uttering a word, she stepped back from the door and ushered them inside. Exchanging a quick glance with Archie, Nikki stepped through the door, taking care to wipe her feet on the mat before she followed the woman along the cream-coloured carpet and into a living room that smelled of roses and something spicy. Clearly this woman was at home here.
Once inside, the woman gestured to the sofa and Nikki sat, only to almost be catapulted back off when Archie’s weight descended on the other side. The woman stood before a flickering wood burning stove, and Nikki’s glance was drawn to a framed photograph on the wall above the fireplace.
Wringing her hands, the woman finally spoke. ‘Has something happened to her?’
Archie cleared his throat and began to speak. ‘I need to speak to Felicity’s, I mean DS Springer’s hu—’
Realizing the mistake her boss was about to make, Nikki jumped to her feet, and putting her arm round the other woman’s shoulder, guided her to a chair. ‘You must be Felicity’s wife … Stevie, is it? We need to talk to you.’
Nikki glanced pointedly from Archie to the photograph of Felicity Springer and her wife in matching wedding dresses, arms round each other, love shining from their eyes, hoping he’d get the hint. Nikki had never seen The Spaniel look so human. Discarding that thought, she focused on the woman before her but before she had a chance to speak the woman said, ‘I know something’s happened. Fliss should’ve been home ages ago.’
Fliss? For a moment Nikki was confused then she caught herself. First Felicity, now Fliss? Really? Today was throwing up all sorts of surprises about DS Springer.
‘I left her a voicemail earlier, but haven’t heard back from her. Even accounting for the weather, she should’ve been home ages ago and she’s not answering her phone. It’s so not like her.’ She gripped Nikki’s hands in both of hers. ‘Please tell me she’s all right.’
