With thanks to Feebee, Firebird & Kit for such incredibly motivating reviews. Especially to Feebee for her assurances on the last chapter (which I totally forgot to mention, begging forgiveness) and to Firebird for her expertise in the area of violent death (from a medical point of view, of course).
Kit – I promise a healthy dose of Tommy & Suzie in the next!
-ooOoo-
The hot water soothed his aching head, helping to release some of the tension. He had left her still asleep in bed having held onto her for most of the night as he lay awake, her body nestled into his. Unwilling to let go and risk that she wouldn't let him touch her again. It was only when he woke, sleep finally having captured him as well in the early hours, that he realised they had parted. Gently, he had resumed his position, enveloping her while he considered what to do next. That was why his head ached. They were going to have to talk about what had happened last night, he didn't want to of course, but his offer to resign or transfer made it an inevitable outcome that he may as well face. The suggestion had come out of nowhere. He'd never lived anywhere other than London and the thought of leaving scared him witless. He hoped she would refuse, but somehow he didn't think she would. Then there was the inevitable awkwardness of the morning after the night before, almost as if they were strangers in the aftermath of their fury. He didn't feel angry anymore, he felt ashamed, wondering if the image of her slumped in the corner of the bathroom would ever leave him. Drying off quickly and then wrapping the same towel that he had drawn around Millie a few hours earlier around his hips, Max took a sideways glance in the steamed up mirror, thankful for the obscurity, and walked back into the bedroom.
Millie watched him return from beneath her brows, her knees defensively drawn to her chin under the sheet. He looked so nervous, fearful of her reaction. For a moment she struggled to reconcile the man standing beyond the foot of their bed with the man who had last night met her aggression with his own with such explosive results. And if only they had left it there she might still be able to find some hate in her. But afterwards, when he had ministered to her so tenderly, wiping away her make-up and tears, whispering his regrets and entreaties for forgiveness the thaw had set in. She wondered if she was being too gullible for her own good, but the fact remained that she wanted to believe him. Such a proud man, so determined and convinced of his own opinion but humbled, brought to his knees in front of her, because of her, for her. And now, in the clear light of the morning, her conviction strengthened. She let her knees drop a little, lowering the barrier between them but still holding the sheet protectively to her chest.
His heart lifted at the gesture, noticing that with it her features appeared to soften. Her eyes had lost the brittleness, replaced instead with sorrow. "Morning," he spoke softly from just inside the doorway. The corners of her mouth widened slightly to form a small smile in awkward acknowledgement of his greeting. "Look, Millie, I ... I 'm ... last night ... I shouldn't ..." he trailed off.
Millie's heart leapt out to him in the throes of his awkwardness and her lower lip began to tremble. She blinked frantically, trying to push back yet more tears. "No," she swallowed, "no, I shouldn't have done it, I don't know what I was thinking, what I was saying ... the things I said ..." she shut her eyes tightly and held the back of her hand to her mouth. The bed suddenly dipped next to her and she opened her eyes as his arms drew her to his chest, holding her securely. "I'm sorry," she whispered into his shoulder.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he retorted, shifting uncomfortably at the memory of how she had provoked him and the eagerness of his own reaction. "I should have told you what was going on from the beginning with Fleischmann, told myself that I had your best interests at heart but I was only taking the easy route. I should have been straight with you and last night ... well ... you were right to be angry and I shouldn't have taken advantage of you."
A wry laugh rumbled against him. "That's not quite how I remember it." But then she turned serious again. "It felt so wrong ... like we lost each other." The sobs threatened to resurface. "I wanted to hate you, wanted to make you feel something of what I was feeling. I thought it would help me forget ... but it doesn't make any sense now ... and Mum ... oh God, how could I-"
"Shush, shush." He stroked her naked back, breathing in the scent of her skin and allowing himself to submerge in the sensation of being close once more, vowing never to make such a stupid mistake and risk all this again. Minutes ticked by unnoticed by either of them, both absorbed in their reconnection until an alarm from outside the room broke into the silence.
"What's that?" she asked, her voice muffled into his chest.
"The oven timer," he murmured into her hair, enjoying the ticklish movement of her lips against his skin. I put some croissants in the oven before I got in the shower, thought I might need some extra ammunition to win you round," he offered contritely. "Besides, I haven't eaten since yesterday afternoon." She smiled up at him affectionately in return, the softness in her upturned face prompting him to lean down to kiss her gently. "I don't deserve you," he whispered, breaking away. "But I can't lose you."
"You haven't," Millie replied quietly, combing back his wet hair with her fingers. "But, please, no more secrets. No more."
Max nodded and clutched her tightly in relief. "I'd better sort out breakfast before it burns," he murmured. "Why don't you take a shower while I do? Then we can make plans for today. I suppose you want to come into the station?"
"I don't know. I should go back and see Dad, but he doesn't want to see me. It's like I remind him of Mum too much. He seems to have given up already," she finished glumly.
"We're going to get her back."
"You don't know that."
"But I have to believe that we will, and you should too," Max stated firmly holding her face in his hands. "Now, shower. You'll feel better and then we'll talk some more."
Millie turned her face into his palm and pressed it to her lips. Relief that they had reached some sort of truce mingled with the underlying heaviness in her heart. She rose from the bed, her fingers lingering with his as she left him to go into the bathroom. Max sighed and rubbed at his face, emotionally exhausted but more than a least a little grateful that she hadn't raised the matter of leaving London. With that thought in mind, he dressed quickly and casually before heading out to the kitchen to salvage what he could from the charred remains on the baking tray.
Millie showered and dressed in record time, not wishing to dally and allow her mind to wander and think the dark thoughts that would only deepen her depression. She and Max had managed to find some light out of their mindless clash the night before and she desperately needed to cling to that, determined to quash the niggling doubt which refused to disappear entirely. She ambled though into the living room, refreshed and feeling more positive that she had done for nearly forty-eight hours to discover Max had given up on the croissants and instead resorted to scrambled eggs and toast.
He smiled at her affectionately. "Your phone made a noise a minute ago."
"Oh, thanks." Millie hoiked up her bag from the floor by the sofa and fished around in its depths for her phone, eventually pulling it out and checking the message. The world seemed to stop as she stared at the small screen.
"Millie? You okay?" He took a step towards her. "What is it?" Millie handed him the phone wordlessly, her eyes round with shock. Max went cold at her reaction and looked down at the text on the screen. "Carly Fleischmann – Portman House car park," he read out loud, then murmured, "shit, that doesn't sound good."
"Where is Portman House? It sounds familiar."
"It's an office block, on the Winnall Trading Estate." Max scrolled back on the phone. "Damn, it's from an unknown number," he exclaimed in frustration, whoever had sent the message knew Millie's number, reminding him that this was far too close to home. He had to keep her safe and if that meant she would be glued to his side, then so be it. Regardless how unconventional that might be in the eyes of his colleagues.
-ooOoo-
Max glanced at Millie by his side in the car. Paler than usual and tight-lipped, but otherwise outwardly calm. In between the half dozen or so phone calls he'd made immediately after reading the text message, he had managed to persuade her to eat some of the breakfast already prepared and waiting on the table. He'd wolfed down the rest while she urged him to hurry up. Fortunately the morning traffic was light as they sped towards the largely unoccupied trading estate. Meadows had been informed, Manson was on his way together with a uniform team and a Trojan unit. Just in case.
Portman House was an ugly example of the recession in Canley, one of the many blots on the already blemished landscape. An over ambitious refurbishment project of a near derelict building by an inexperienced developer just as the market for commercial property turned and took a nosedive through the floor. It couldn't have been a worse combination of factors and the resultant eyesore was an inevitable outcome. Enough scaffolding remained to make the building safe but beyond that it was no more than a stripped out shell, untouched by neither the developer nor the liquidator for well over two years. Metal grilles covered what should have been windows, plastered with notices declaring the threats of a private security service but what was left of the doors had been forced open regardless and the collecting rubbish littering the front of the building indicated the type of occupants that the hapless developer had never imagined.
An area car and a van were already at the building when Max and Millie arrived. In the rear view mirror he noticed Manson pull in behind with someone in the passenger seat next to him, Max couldn't see who it was but assumed it must be Suzie.
From the area car emerged the unmistakeable figure of Jo Masters and Max drew up next to her. "So, what are we dealing with?" asked Jo as Max got out of the car, her eyes flicking to Millie while she addressed him.
"Don't know yet. Millie received a text message about an hour ago indicating Carly Fleischmann may be here in the car park."
"Hmm. Let's hope all of her is here, rather than just another piece," commented Jo dryly.
Out of the corner of his eye, Max saw Millie wince but otherwise hold herself together. He reminded himself that she really was tougher than he gave her credit for and she wanted to be here, not to be protected and shielded out of harm's way. "Yeah, well. Where's the Trojan unit?"
"Should be here any minute," she paused, looking over Max's shoulder. "Morning, Sir."
"Morning, Jo," replied Neil seriously. "Max, Millie."
"Morning," they replied in unison. Max looked at Millie questioningly as she raised her eyebrows and he spun round to see Grace wandering over from the car, her phone pressed to her ear.
"Yes, alright, I'll let them know, Sarge," she finished, clicking the phone shut. "DS Leighton, she announced to the gathering. "He's on his way, with DS Sim," she shot a quick glance at Neil, the two of them sharing some sort of secret code.
"Right, well we'll wait for the Trojan unit and then go in," began Max, uninterested in Grace's information. "They need to secure the building first and then we can get inside. Jo, can you get a couple of bodies round the back now, just in case there is anyone in there who makes a run for it."
"Of course," agreed Jo. "Looks like the boys with their guns are here," she nodded towards the van containing armed officers turning off the service road towards them.
While Jo returned to her team, Max made his way over towards the van as it came to a standstill. Millie watched as he calmly spoke to the officer in charge, giving information and instructions. Part of her still couldn't come to terms with his ability to deal with this as if the victims were strangers with no link to him whatsoever, while she felt like some sort of zombie, going through the motions of breathing and communicating, pretending that she was just as capable of being objective as he. But this was where he was in his element, most at ease. He was talking the language best known to him and commanding the scene. Matters of the heart had little relevance.
With a pat on his comrade's back, Max left the armed officers to pour out from the van and after a short briefing take up their positions around the building. Within seconds they had all disappeared leaving everyone else to stand and wait. Millie held her breath, her heart pounding at what might follow next. She didn't believe the kidnappers would still be there and she knew Max didn't either, but there was no way of telling what else they might find. Suddenly there was a loud shout and a scream from the back of the building. Two uniformed officers ran round to the rear only to emerge seconds later with an extremely filthy, long-haired vagrant struggling between them. Millie let out her breath in a rush, deflating her body so much so that she thought she might collapse dizzily, but a hand gripped hers, bolstering her resolve. She hadn't even realised that he had been standing next to her all along.
"Clear!" came the cry announcing that the Trojan team had completed their work and after a final squeeze, his hand left hers.
"Right, everyone ready? Let's get in there," called Max, taking a couple of steps forward before turning back to Millie. "Stay here," he tried to be authoritative but even to his own ears he sounded weak. There was no way she would do as he hoped.
"No, I'm coming in."
"But-"
"I'm coming in with you."
With you. At least she was with him. His shoulders slumped and he nodded, giving in to the inevitable.
Neil and Grace watched the short exchange covertly. "Are you...?" Grace gestured at the building to Neil after Max and Millie walked towards it.
"No, I'll hang on here. Max doesn't need me looking over his shoulder. You go, though," he suggested blandly, his focus on the building in front of them. Grace gave a tight smile in response, increasingly irked by the mixed messages she was receiving. He'd been so chatty in the car, nothing too personal and nothing at all serious. Conversation had centred mainly on the wizardry of the Science Museum and the incredible contents of the Natural History Museum, both recently visited with his son. He had made Grace smile at his obvious love of spending time with the boy, even though he felt like some sort of dinosaur in the face of Jake's clear technological superiority. A sign of the times, he had noted with an affectionate sigh. But now, not so much as a hint of familiarity came from him.
"Okay," she agreed reluctantly and made her way over to where Jo was standing, slightly apart from the others, annoyed for feeling so ridiculously disappointed.
"What was all that about earlier? On the phone?" murmured Jo to Grace as Max came to the end of his instructions to the assembled group.
"What do you mean? About Tommy and Suzie?"
"Hmm?"
"Well, neither was in the station this morning before we got the call from Max."
"Really, so they're ..."
"Coming over here together," confirmed Grace with a conspiratorial smile, grateful for a reason to think about something else other than her own confusing state of affairs.
"Interesting," drawled Jo, "but not quite as interesting as that little thing between you and our DCI over there."
"What thing?" exclaimed Grace hotly.
"Oh never mind, I won't say anything. Not one to gossip, me."
"But there isn't-"
"No, of course not. Anyway, less about you. We've got a missing woman to find," Jo declared efficiently while pulling on her purple gloves with a snap and strode away to catch up with her team, leaving a flustered Grace following in her footsteps.
With everybody clear in their purpose, and Millie by his side, Max made his way down the ramp and into the underground car park of Portman House. Unlike the main building itself, this had not been boarded up, the security company having thought it pointless to do so. The car park was not completely below street level, open arches no more than two feet at their highest performed a ring around the base of the building, providing easy access to anyone so inclined. Inside, the walls were marked with damp despite the recent heat, algae coloured the breeze block walls in streaks of green and brown. Tattered boxes and newspaper were strewn over the floor, piling up against the walls and pillars, the sound of empty drinks cans trodden on by the incomers echoed noisily off the walls. Here and there, stacked pallets had been arranged to provide additional shelter for the homeless inhabitants, long gone except for the one now in police custody. Max believed he had a good idea just what had caused such an hospitable place to have been abandoned.
Unconsciously, Max and Millie wandered apart, each concentrating on their search for anything that might be a link to Carly. Several minutes passed and murmurings of disappointment grew louder, frustration that the search appeared to be futile. In the far corner, in what appeared to be a recessed alcove, Millie saw a length of rope lying on the floor from behind a stack of pallets. She cocked her head to one side in puzzlement and slowly moved towards it. The line of the rope took her behind the pallets to where several more lay stacked on their sides. The rope snaked up to the top of the pile and was loosely wound round a pile of dirty tarpaulin. Gingerly, she tugged at the material, then more forcefully as it began to give way. She wanted to stop but her hands wouldn't obey the warning in her head, telling her to call for help. Desperately she clawed at the rope to loosen it enough to reveal whatever the bundle contained. Her heart thumped while she held her breath and at last the rope gave way, with one final tug she pulled apart the tarpaulin.
Millie knew it was Carly immediately even though the sight bore no resemblance to the carefully groomed woman she had clashed with just a few days earlier. She stood transfixed by the flat dead eyes staring straight back at her. Her hair was shorn close to her scalp with only a few rough tufts to remind of the once abundant waves and her tanned skin was now grey and cold. Between her nose and mouth, blood had dried to a blackish red, completing the sickening horror.
A strangled cry left Millie's mouth, shock paralysing her body from moving and stopping the involuntary reaction with her hand. She'd seen dead bodies before, several in fact and although it was never any less unpleasant, she had learnt to become less disturbed by the experiences. But this was different. Carly had never been a friend, but Millie had grown up with her almost as a cousin, an integral part of her life and was the beloved child of a man she had deeply cared about. It was different.
Max heard the sound. Barely looking where he was going, seeking only to take the shortest possible route to get to Millie, he scrambled over a heap of crushed boxes, tripping and only just managing to regain his balance by sheer determination to rescue her from whatever she had found, hoping it would be nothing more than a dead rat. But his hopes were quickly dashed. Even at a distance he could see what she was staring at. In a fraction of a second he pulled her away, holding her face firmly into his shoulder.
"Over here!" he shouted towards Jo, manoeuvring Millie out of the path of the oncoming officers and away from the body in the corner.