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‘I know. Look I’ll talk to this Alex Winstanley—’
‘No you bloody won’t,’ Val interrupted. ‘I’ll be speaking to him myself. If you look at the bottom it says I was unavailable for comment. I’ve not had a call from anyone at The Star all day. I’ll be having a few words with this Mr Winstanley and Karen here will be putting together a placating statement for you.’
‘Thank you,’ Matilda said to both Karen and Val before looking down at the floor in shame.
‘I do not want you speaking to Alex Winstanley or anyone else from the press again. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘If they do happen to call you be polite, but firm, give no comment, then hang up.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘Karen, would you leave us alone for a while?’
Karen agreed and struggled to get up out of her seat. She said she would start work on the statement and would email it through when she had finished. Val Masterson waited until the door closed and Karen was out of earshot before she began.
‘What’s going on with you, Mat?’ Her voice was all concern, giving the impression of two friends chatting over coffee. Matilda wouldn’t dare call her Val.
‘Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine. Understaffed, but fine.’
‘Then why do you look like shit?’
‘I wasn’t aware that I did.’ She tried to scoff but it wasn’t working.
‘I’m not completely heartless you know. I’m aware the anniversary of James’s death is looming, but you need to talk to me, Matilda. You can’t allow things to bottle up.’
‘I’m not bottling anything up.’
Val Masterson rose from behind her desk; five foot nothing tall and wafer thin, she came to the front and sat on the edge of the desk. Matilda had to hide a small smile when her boss had to jump up.
‘We’ve known each other for a very long time; let’s forget rank for the next few minutes. We’re just two middle-aged women having a chat. So, what’s on your mind?’
Has she been taking lessons from Dr Warminster?
It took a while for Matilda to find the courage to open her mouth to speak without a flood of tears pouring out. The moment the first word came out, the rest followed in an almost incomprehensible tumble. ‘James is on my mind twenty-four hours a day. Carl is constantly vying for attention. I want to look for him. I want to search every inch of this country to try and find him. I’m losing my team. Sian and Aaron are doing their best but I need a DI I can leave in charge when I’m not here. I’m down countless support staff and a DC.’
The large clock on the far wall ticked loudly. Matilda sniffed hard to try and rein in the tears. She managed it just in time. It was never a good idea to cry in front of your boss.
Val looked down at her most trusted detective. The silence grew.
‘What happened to James was devastating. I cannot begin to imagine what you’re going through and I won’t even try. If you want to take time off, you just have to let me know …’
‘I don’t want …’
Val held up a hand. ‘I know. I was about to say I know that you won’t want to take time off work, but the offer is there for you whenever you need it.’
‘Thank you.’
‘As for Carl Meagan,’ she shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, I’ve no idea what happened there. The kidnappers knew the money was there to be dropped off. They got spooked and did a runner but they could have contacted the Meagan family again. Why they didn’t is anybody’s guess. There hasn’t been a sighting, a phone call, a letter, nothing. There is nothing we can do about that now.’ She spoke slowly and with determination as if she was drilling every single syllable into Matilda’s head. ‘It’s easy for me to say, I know, but until we receive any more information about Carl Meagan there is nothing else we can do to locate him. You need to keep telling yourself that.’
‘I know. I keep thinking of his parents; what they must be going through, not knowing where their son is. It must be torture.’
‘The case will be reviewed on a regular basis, you know that. However, you need to move on. Your job is to solve murders. You can’t do that if you’re constantly harking over an unsolved case. As for your team, you’re right and I’m sorry. It’s wrong of me to expect you to solve a murder case with a couple of DSs. I’ll get some drafted over to you from CID.’
Matilda looked up. Val’s face looked softer and there was a genuine sincerity in her voice. It was the first time in a long time Matilda actually believed in what Valerie was saying.
‘Now I want you to go home—’
‘But—’
Again, Val held a hand up to silence her. ‘This is not negotiable. I want you to go home.’
‘I can’t leave—’
‘My grandfather used to always say there’s no such word as “can’t”. It annoyed me when he said that but it’s true. You can leave and you are leaving. I will arrest you if I have to.’ She smiled.
Matilda was about to thank her boss but, once again, the hand came up. Matilda took this as her cue to leave.
Matilda should not have driven home. Her mind was a maelstrom of activity. Not only did she have James and Carl battling for attention in her head, she had the Meagan parents judging her, ACC Masterson offering comforting words, which wouldn’t last if she continued with her erratic behaviour, and now, Alex Winstanley was throwing her to the dogs. There was very little room in her mind for anything else.
The doormat was covered with the usual array of white and brown envelopes, junk mail, and fast-food menus. She stepped over them and made her way to the kitchen. At the back of the drawer she used for items that didn’t have a place to live, she found an emergency supply of the Venlafaxine tablets she used to take. It had been her decision to stop taking them, but she still collected the prescriptions from her GP. With shaking fingers, she took three tablets, two more than prescribed.
Her head pounded and weighed heavy on her shoulders. As she went into the living room, she picked the post up from the front door and threw it onto the coffee table.
James was looking down on her from the mantelpiece. His gorgeous smile, his bright blue eyes, his broad shoulders; he wasn’t judging, he had love in his eyes. He cared for Matilda and he wanted her to be happy. The only way she would be happy again would be for James to enter the living room and wrap his strong arms around her.
Through teary eyes she looked at the post on the coffee table. One envelope stood out among the bills and offers of credit cards; it was a brilliant white and didn’t have a stamp on it. A hand-delivered letter. Matilda ripped open the envelope and pulled out the single sheet of paper and a cutting from a newspaper. She didn’t notice the tears fall down her face as she saw the scathing article written by Alex Winstanley in today’s edition of The Star. She threw it down and looked at the letter:
You’re a murdering bitch! There’s blood on your hands Detective Chief Inspector Matilda Darke.
Dr Adele Kean pulled open the glass doors to the Murder Room and stepped inside. She immediately noticed the lack of activity and the lack of officers. ‘It’s like a closing-down sale in here,’ she remarked without thinking. Matilda had told her she wasn’t telling the rest of the team the Murder Room was closing.