Falling by Emma Kavanagh Read Free Book Online Page B

through her. She wanted to be sick.
    “I’m sorry, boss. I know. It’s just…”
    It took three lifetime long strides to cross the bedroom. One herculean wrench to pull open the door.
    Tom looked like he hadn’t slept. He started when he saw her, like he was seeing a ghost, and for a brief moment Cecilia wondered if that was exactly what she was. But her arm still throbbed and her head still spun and surely that didn’t happen if you were already dead. His chestnut hair stood upright the way it did after a long day, when he’d run his fingers through it too many times. He wasn’t someone that she had every really considered to be good looking, rather, if she was being generous, on the more attractive side of average. He looked like he’d lost weight since she’d seen him last. Was that even possible in the day that she had been gone? Cecilia leaned against the doorframe, eyes fighting to close again, to slip back. “It’s okay.” Her voice came out rough, stale from lack of use. “Go.”
    “Sorry, boss, just a sec.” He cupped the mouthpiece with his hand. His wedding ring glinting in the winter sunlight. “They’ve found a woman’s body. Some guy walking his dog in Swansea called it in. It’s okay, I’ve already said I’m not going in.”
    “Go.”
    “I…”
    “It’ll be better. I’d rather.” She didn’t see him nod, even though she knew he would have. Didn’t see his shoulders slump in that way they did when he had tried and she had shoved him away. Just heard him say.
    “Boss? I’m on my way.”

Chapter 10
    Jim - Friday, 16th March – 9.28am
    Jim had remained at the station late into the night, arms folded tight across his chest, pacing worn out linoleum as the kid rang DI Nate Maxwell, the DI rang someone else, and suddenly the office flooded with people. Because that was what happened when there was a problem with one of your own. The air filled with hurried voices, the clacking of computer keys, the clunk of phones hitting cradles. People that he didn’t recognise had hurried past him, pulling thick coats on over dark suits. Going to look for his daughter.
    Jim’s stomach knotted, like it had that time in Sainsbury’s when she was five, when he’d turned around and she was gone and a spasm of fear had gripped him from the inside and he’d run down aisles until he found her, tiny hands reaching upwards, helping herself to the pick and mix. Any minute now. Any minute now the phone would ring or a radio would spark to life, and the people he didn’t know would look up, faces relieved. They’d say “Mr. Hanover. Your daughter’s on the phone.” Then they’d laugh at what they had all thought, and his insides would unclench, just like that day with the pick and mix.
    It was midnight before the DI came. Nate Maxwell’s eyes searching the office for Jim, and for an instant they are in the pub again, or on the golf course, anywhere but here. Nate had been out on the streets, looking, even though it wasn’t really his job. Had lain his big burly hands on Jim’s tight tensed shoulders. “Go home, Jim. Nothing you can do here.”
    Jim had known that he was right, knew that Esther would be waiting for him. His wife would have spent the evening ironing. She did everyone’s - his, Ethan’s, Libby’s - said that she enjoyed it, that she found it relaxing. Then when she was done she would sit down with a treat, a small glass of Bailey’s – just the one – and by now she would be a little bit giggly. Jim had thought that he might be sick. He’d called her, I’ve bumped into a couple of the boys. Going to pop to the pub for a couple of pints. You know, quick drink. You mind? Esther laughing and saying that it was like the old days, not to expect her to peel him off the kitchen floor when he’d had too many. And he’d laughed along with her, the sound ripping a hole in his gut, and prayed and prayed and prayed that he would never have to make her feel what he felt. Because