The Next Girl: A gripping thriller with a heart-stopping twist

She drove home just after eleven, along the country lanes just outside Stratford-upon-Avon. The fog blanketing the fields had an eerie look about it in the moonlight. Her heart jumped as a fox darted in front of the car. The creature made its safe escape through a hedge before completely disappearing into the gloom. She reduced her speed to below thirty as she continued with the treacherous journey.

She pulled in off the country road and parked outside her little cottage. As she stepped out of the car, Ebony, her little black cat, ran over and began purring at her ankles. She followed the cat into the house and filled up the feeder. As Ebony crunched her food, Gina threw her coat onto the kitchen table and checked her phone. Still no text from Hannah. Her stomach flipped when she reread the last message from Briggs. She popped her phone in her pocket, turned off the light and headed upstairs.

Standing in front of the washing basket on the landing, she stripped off and threw her clothes at it before entering the bathroom. A damp smell hung in the air. She turned on the light. She badly needed a shower after getting home late the previous night and rushing out in the morning.

The bathwater from the night before stared back at her in all its murky glory. She’d been in such a hurry, she hadn’t even emptied the bath. She reached into the scummy water and yanked the plug. As it emptied, she sat on the toilet and watched the water slowly sinking away. Walking over to the washing basket, she pulled her phone from her trouser pocket and checked for messages. Nothing. It wasn’t as if she was expecting Hannah to respond, but she had hoped Briggs would call.

She logged onto Facebook and searched for her daughter. Her last status was a rant about how people say they love you but just continuously let you down and how they put themselves first all the time. Her friends’ comments were what really hurt. Gina felt a tear slip down her cheek as she read them. ‘Don’t waste your time on people who treat you badly’… ‘Why the hell do you put up with people like that in your life?’

She wasn’t selfish. Hannah had no idea why she wouldn’t fork out the money for Terry’s memorial service or why she always worked late. Her job was important and she needed it, she loved it. It kept her sane. And even if Hannah did know about her reasons for not wanting to pay, would she believe her? The treatment that Hannah’s father had forced on her had turned her into a fighter, and now she needed to continue fighting for those who couldn’t fight for themselves.

The first domestic violence case she’d dealt with had been a success. The suspect had been found guilty and imprisoned because of the evidence she’d collected. She’d since thrown her life into making sure that other perpetrators didn’t get away with it.

The plughole gurgled as the last of the water escaped. She grabbed the untouched glass of red wine that was sitting next to her shampoo and took a swig, grimacing as the day-old liquid swirled around her mouth.

She dropped the phone onto a pile of towels and turned the shower on. She needed to wash away the dirt of the day, ready to begin again. As she lathered up her hair, her phone began to ring. She turned the shower off and stepped out of the bath, snatching the phone in her soapy hands.

‘Sorry it’s late,’ Briggs said.

‘Don’t be sorry,’ she replied. She didn’t know what to say next. Should she mention the previous week? Was he trying to forget it? It had been easy to forget – until she’d been in his office earlier that day. ‘Any news on the case?’

‘No,’ he replied.

Her teeth began to chatter as the coldness of the bathroom enveloped her soaking body. She reached for her bathrobe, sat on the toilet seat and pulled the material over her knees.

‘About the other week, sir—’

‘Sir, sir, sir. Just call me Chris when we’re not at work.’

‘Are we not at work?’

‘You make it hard, don’t you? If you want me to end this call, just say. I’m not into staff harassment.’

‘Sorry. I’m not good at this.’ Gina shivered again. What did she want? It was one night, not a relationship, not even planned, but the thought of it made her smile. ‘I’m glad you called.’

‘That’s a start. About last week, I don’t think it should become common knowledge, you know what I mean?’

Through her shivering, she felt her face flush with an uncomfortable hotness. Ebony ran up the stairs, licking her legs as she wrapped her body around Gina’s dripping ankles, depositing fine black hairs all over her feet. ‘Me neither. I won’t say anything, no need to worry about that.’

‘That doesn’t mean I didn’t enjoy it or wouldn’t like to do it again some time—’

‘Stop. You don’t have to say anything else. It shouldn’t have happened. Really, it doesn’t matter.’

‘I like you, Gina. Think about things and we’ll have a pint or a coffee or whatever you want.’ He fell silent. She didn’t have an issues sussing out the perps, but when it came to her personal life, she felt like a clueless teenager again. She didn’t want to admit that she’d enjoyed the night, that it had been the release she’d needed after so many years. Flashes of her desperate hands running through his sweaty brown hair and gripping his buttocks tight raced through her mind.

‘I might take you up on a coffee. A pint would be too dangerous,’ she replied.

‘I like danger.’ With that final comment, he ended the call. Gina grinned and leaned back on the toilet seat. The soap suds from her hair dripped into her eyes, stinging. She dropped the robe onto the floor then stepped back into the shower to finish what she’d started.





Twelve





Sunday, 3 December 2017





Gina yawned as she grabbed the three coffees from the side. She placed one on Jacob’s desk. ‘Let no one tell you I don’t care,’ she said as she placed O’Connor’s coffee beside him. ‘Give the lab a call and see if they’ve run the DNA test yet? If not, tell them to get a move on. I need it yesterday.’ O’Connor nodded and continued to munch on his bacon butty. Gina hurried along the corridor, closed her office door and sat in front of the computer. Jacob wasn’t exaggerating when he said they’d received a lot of irrelevant calls about the baby case. Her inbox was bursting at the seams with what the service desk had forwarded to her.

There was a tap on the door and Jacob entered, holding his drink. ‘Thanks for this,’ he said. She leaned back in her chair. Jacob swigged his coffee and ruffled his other hand through his messy hair. ‘That call yesterday has certainly thrown up something odd with this case. The quicker we get the results back the better.’

‘I’ve nudged O’Connor to chase up forensics. I did mark them as urgent so I’m hoping to hear soon.’

One of Jacob’s eyebrows lifted slightly. ‘That’ll be a nice bill.’

‘It certainly will be, but how the hell are we meant to do our job without forensics? Our budgets over the past few years have been pathetic and I doubt the next few will be any better. I’m sick of being told we’re overspending, that we need to cut back and save it for the crimes that matter. An abandoned baby matters, crime of the century or not.’ She felt a familiar itch in her nose and grabbed a tissue off her desk just in time to catch a sneeze. ‘I’m not feeling at my healthiest today. Damn Smith for bringing in the lurgy last week.’

Jacob’s phone beeped. He smiled as he picked it up and scrolled down the message. ‘Looks like Abigail’s giving me another date opportunity.’ He tapped on his keys while staring intently at the screen. ‘That’s that sorted.’

Gina’s phone lit up and a text popped up from her daughter.

We’re coming round this evening. If you’re not there, that’s it. I’m sick of you cancelling. Can’t you put us first, just this once, instead of your stupid job?





Gina turned her phone over and stared at all the emails that had been sent. She’d deal with Hannah’s text when she had a moment. ‘I thought they filtered the crank calls out before forwarding them to me,’ she said to Jacob. ‘The first one I open says that the person reporting saw flashing lights in the sky before a beam of light shone from some sort of flying craft. Apparently, a package was sent down from the Lord. Where do these people come from?’

Jacob laughed and looked up. ‘I sense you’re working with a closed mind, guv.’

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