‘The house. Daniel Neal brought in a crime-scene cleaning company. Gil told me. I think he’s planning to move in. And he’s organising a memorial service.’ I pause. ‘He told Burrow we weren’t doing enough to find her body and said he can’t hold a proper funeral without it.’
‘He’s grieving.’ Dario gently nudges the menu towards me. ‘Now, are you going to order something, or should I just surprise you?’
‘Sorry,’ I say again, glancing at the choices. ‘I’ll have the hake.’
He orders the same. We sip our drinks, taking in the warm hum of the restaurant.
‘Why are you still so hung up on this case?’ he asks after a moment.
I sigh. ‘Because I can’t shake the feeling we’ve missed something.’
‘Well, we’ve identified the killer as Stuart King,’ says Dario.
‘One of them,’ I say quietly, thinking about the unidentified blood.
‘Josie, the case is closed. Neal’s trying to move on with his life. Maybe it’s time you did, too. And the only thing we’re missing right now’ – he reaches across the table and takes my hand – ‘is a good evening together. That’s all I want. Just this.’
I smile. He’s right. The case has been eating away at me, and I need to let it go.
But I can’t.
Those unexplained bloodstains on the kitchen floorboards, in the garage and on Stuart King’s trousers. If they weren’t his and they weren’t Joanna Neal’s, then whose were they? Burrow seems convinced that Stuart King was the murderer, but maybe he was just eager to close the case because he was under pressure.
I’m not convinced.
But I have no idea who else it could be.
Book Two
Chapter Forty-Nine
Gil
The truth is, at the start, I didn’t honestly believe Jo had been kidnapped. It just didn’t seem real. Why would anyone want to take Jo? It was surreal. Of course, I couldn’t say that out loud. I was concerned, yes, but my first thought was that she’d simply disappeared. I assumed the whole Lila trauma had flared up again.
God knows, even I still have nightmares about that case, and I’m a tough old cow. I’ve thought about walking away from everything more than once.
The night Lila was brought in was one that none of us will ever forget.
***
Jo had been talking about Joel’s birthday earlier that day, and I told her straight: she shouldn’t be dealing with an abuse case, not that night.
‘Let someone else take this one,’ I said.
Jo looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
‘She’s about the same age as Joel,’ I pointed out hesitantly.
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I’m fine,’ she snapped.
But she wasn’t fine. I knew it the moment we scrubbed in. During the operation, I thought she was going to collapse. There was a fire in her eyes I’d never seen before, anger, raw and unfiltered. She fought with everything she had to save that child. Jeanette, the nurse, had to keep wiping sweat from Jo’s face so she could see what she was doing. Even after we had lost Lila, Jo kept going, still doing CPR, still refusing to give up. Eventually, I had to pull her off. She walked away shaking, weeping, furious and heartbroken.
When the police arrived, she provided them with a detailed account. Every brutal injury, every sign of trauma. Right there in the hallway, her voice shaking – but loud. One of the officers, Josie Blackford, turned pale. I have always remembered her. She’s the one we’d call when the drunks kicked off in A&E.
Jo didn’t hold back. She blamed social services. And there was no stopping her.
I saw something shift in Jo that night, irreversibly. And in the months that followed, that change really took hold. That night changed both Jo and Danny, as they struggled with her inability to process the loss. Therapy helped, eventually. She seemed better, stronger, even… stable. She went back to work. She said that saved her.
