Michael Wood - Outside Looking In

‘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.

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