He leaped out of bed and ran to the window. He stared out and saw a dark figure trying to open the door. His heart continued to pound as he ran down the stairs and crept across the kitchen floor, trying to remain out of the intruder’s sight. The figure was now on the other side of the windowpane. Luke wanted to turn on the light but he knew his eyes would be slow to adjust. He had to see who this person was. Maybe it had something to do with Debbie.
He remembered the man sitting on the wall the other day, watching him and Brooke from afar. Had that been a coincidence? Too many odd things were happening now. He slid open the kitchen drawer and snatched a bread knife. He’d never used a weapon before and had no idea what to do if it came to it, but he clenched it in front of his chest.
The intruder gave up on the window and walked back to the kitchen door. Luke watched as the hooded figure stepped back and grabbed the plant pot that sat by the side of the door. As the man leaned back to smash the pot into the window, Luke pressed his face against it and held up the knife. The figure dropped the pot with a loud crash and darted out of the garden before Luke managed to get a proper look at him.
Luke ran into the living room, knocking into the Christmas tree as he swerved towards the window. He watched as the intruder ran off into the darkness. He looked at the illuminated clock on the DVD player; it was just gone three in the morning.
He ran up the stairs into Heidi’s bedroom. She lay there open-mouthed, sleeping soundly. Holding his chest and exhaling, he crept into Max’s room and watched as Max stirred then went back to sleep.
He darted back into his bedroom. A few minutes before the intruder had disturbed him, he’d believed that Debbie was next to him. He’d touched her, smelled her, felt his heart burst with love as he’d stroked her hair. But he’d gone to bed alone and he had woken up alone, as he had done for years now. The dream had felt so real. He felt his eyes begin to tear up. He rolled over onto Debbie’s side of the bed and hugged her pillow. ‘I miss you, Debbie,’ he whispered as he let his tears fall, slamming his fist into the pillow.
‘Daddy?’ Max walked into Luke’s bedroom with one eye open, clutching a small blanket.
‘Hello, little man. What are you doing up?’ Luke wiped his tears away and forced a smile.
‘I heard a funny noise. Were you running around the house?’
‘Yes. It was nothing. I just had a bad dream.’ Luke knew he had to call the police about the attempted break-in. ‘Do you want to get into my bed for a bit?’ He lifted his son’s tired body onto the bed and placed him gently under the covers. He leaned across him and turned off the lamp before kissing him on the head.
‘Love you, Daddy,’ Max whispered. ‘Where’s Mummy’s picture?’
Luke pulled open his bedside drawer and placed the photo back on the table. ‘I just moved it when I was cleaning,’ he said as he stared at Debbie’s photo.
He’d tried so hard to find her, back then. All the searching and all the following of her friends and colleagues had yielded him with zero information. It had however yielded him with many a hangover. As the seasons had passed following her disappearance, the reward posters he’d left on all the local lampposts had become weathered, eventually falling off and flying away in the wind, along with her memory. Life went on. The news channels and papers stopped reporting about her and the children eventually found a new normality.
The world was moving on, but how could he ever do the same?
‘Do you think Mummy’s ever coming home?’
A tear fell down Luke’s face. ‘Of course she is.’
‘I’m going to dream of Mummy. I like dreams of Mummy,’ his son said as he snuggled into the quilt and closed his eyes.
Luke slid out of Debbie’s side of the bed and crept downstairs. As he passed the lounge, he noticed that several Christmas baubles and a Christmas snowflake chain that the children had made out of coloured paper lay on the floor. He bent down, picked them up and hung them back on the tree. He went into the kitchen. The DI’s card was on the side, exactly where he’d left it. He ran his fingers through his sweaty hair and called the number.
Twenty-Three
Briggs stirred as Gina grabbed a jumper and a pair of black trousers from her wardrobe. ‘What time is it?’
‘Early. Duty calls. Attempted break-in at the Jenkins’ household.’ She grabbed his crumpled shirt off the floor and threw it towards his face.
He opened one eye and reached for his phone. ‘Three-thirty?’ He turned around and hugged the bent-up corner of his pillow. Ebony jumped on the bed and began pressing her paws into his back. ‘Okay, I’m getting up,’ he said as he gently shoved the cat off the bed.
As Gina zipped up her trousers, he reached over and started putting his shirt on. She almost heaved from the taste of sour wine that hung at the back of her throat. She dashed to the bathroom, splashed some water on her face and quickly brushed her teeth. Briggs followed, doing his trousers up as he stood beside her in the bathroom. ‘Can I use your toothbrush?’ he asked.
‘No way. Use your finger.’ He shook his head and swapped places with her and began washing. Sprinting down the stairs with Briggs close behind, she grabbed her car keys and coat before dashing out of the door. ‘I’ll see you back at the station as soon as I’ve checked out what’s happening.’
Briggs leaned in to kiss her as he passed, heading for his own car, but she turned to avoid him. ‘I’m sorry. This doesn’t feel right.’ Getting close to him was the last thing on her mind. Terry had been enough to put her off relationships for life, and then there was the question of how their fling would affect their working relationship.
‘Have I upset you?’ He stood beside his car, flattening his messy hair.
He hadn’t done anything wrong. They’d had a good night. She’d had another glass of wine; he’d had a couple. He’d set her desire alight but she definitely wasn’t in the market for a relationship, particularly not with her superior. Sex was one thing, but she’d let him sleep over. She should’ve asked him to leave afterwards. She looked back at him, wondering how to respond. There was something about him that definitely turned her on.
‘Georgina?’ He was awaiting her answer.
‘Stop calling me Georgina,’ she said, allowing a smile to escape. ‘We have work to do… Chris.’
‘You know, I can’t work you out.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She stood, holding her keys, awaiting his answer.
He smiled back, got in his car and drove off. Now she’d have to go all night and possibly all day wondering what he’d meant. What was so complicated to work out? He was a DCI, her DCI, and she worked directly under him. She could hear the gossip in her mind, going around the station. She started up her engine and turned the headlamps on. It was going to be another long day.
Twenty-Four
Although the report was of a break-in, with all the strange occurrences happening with Luke Jenkins and his missing wife, she felt she had to be at the scene to interview him, to be first in finding out if there could be a connection between tonight’s incident and Deborah being missing. As she drove through the damp night, she thought about Briggs and their fling. One positive was that he’d never resent her job if anything more came of the relationship. It was doubtful that Hannah would ever come around and understand what it meant to her. Maybe her daughter resented the fact that Gina needed more than family. Maybe they had become so distant due to Gina’s lack of disclosure about past traumas. Or maybe Hannah’s opinion of her was correct. Maybe she was a selfish cow who was always late and puts her family second. Maybes, lots of maybes.
She pulled up outside the Jenkins residence and spotted PC Smith’s car. The living room light was on. Luke opened the door wearing his dressing gown, T-shirt and pyjama bottoms.
Heidi stood at the top of the stairs in a Disney princess nightie. ‘Dad, what’s happening?’
‘Go back to bed, sweetie, or you’ll wake Max. I’ll come up in a minute.’ Luke smiled warmly at his daughter.