Pop Goes the Weasel | страница 132

His iPod lay discarded on the floor now and he could hear his parents arguing. They didn’t deserve this either. What did it mean for their family now? They had loved him unconditionally for all of their time together, but they hadn’t signed up for this. They were an ordinary, nice couple who’d never done a thing wrong in their lives.

He stole a glimpse out of the window and his heart sank. There were even more journalists out there than there had been before. They were under siege now. And there would be no escape.

Helen left the flat promptly, but the roads were already clogged with traffic and her ride to the police mortuary took twice as long as usual. She cursed herself for not leaving earlier, but she had been thrown by waking up next to Jake. It had been so long since that had happened – she always went to his place, never to hers – that she’d been unsure of the etiquette. As it was, she allowed him a shower and breakfast, then asked him to leave. Oddly, that didn’t feel awkward and their parting was friendly, even fond. They had talked into the small hours and then Helen had fallen asleep – waking fully clothed but refreshed several hours later. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but she knew that she didn’t regret it.

On her ride to the police mortuary, Helen’s thoughts turned once more to Robert. Should she attempt to contact him? Parking up, she pulled out her phone and swiftly typed a message. Her finger hovered over the button – would he want to hear from her? What could she possibly say? What if her message fell into the wrong hands or was hacked? Emilia would certainly stoop to those levels if she felt she could get away with it.

But she couldn’t just say nothing. Couldn’t leave Robert to face this alone. So she’d written a short text saying how sorry she was, how he should sit tight whilst she got local uniform to move the press on and asking him to text her to let her know how he was. It was inadequate, grossly so in the circumstances, but what else could she say? Blasted by the cold wind ripping through the deserted mortuary car park, Helen hesitated once more, then pressed SEND. She hoped with all her heart that it would make a difference, however small.

Jim Grieves was unusually quiet this morning, the first sign that he was aware of the chaos in Helen’s life. More surprising still, he’d patted her arm as they’d walked to the slab. Helen had never known Jim display any physical affection to anyone before and she was touched that he felt the need to let her know he was rooting for her. She smiled her thanks, then they got on with the task in hand. Slipping on their masks, they approached the desiccated remains of Anton Gardiner.