Left for Dead: A Maeve Kerrigan Novella (Maeve Kerrigan Novels) by Jane Casey Read Free Book Online

to last night?’
    ‘Just the usual. Answering 999 calls.’
    She laughed. ‘It’s so weird to think of it. I mean, calling the police and you turning up.’
    I looked down at myself, lanky in jeans and Converse. ‘You know, I’m more impressive in uniform.’ With my 30,000 mates to back me up. Being in the biggest gang around helped.
    ‘It would still be weird. I mean, the police are grown-ups.’
    I grinned. ‘So are we.’
    ‘Not really. Not properly.’ She looked genuinely unsettled at the thought for a few seconds. Then she brightened. ‘Hey, did I tell you about what Sharon said to me at work yesterday? You are not going to believe this.’
    I listened to the story about her bitchy colleague, murmuring the expected responses when she paused for my contributions. As soon as I could without seeming rude, I left her to the inane chatter of Radio 1’s breakfast show and her cereal, and shut myself in my room. I was tired to my very bones but I couldn’t relax. I wandered around the small space, listening to the noises that told me Aisling was finally getting ready. She was running late. There was a lot of swearing and door banging involved in the process. At last I heard the front door slam. I counted to twenty. It opened again.
    ‘Forgot my phone!’
    ‘Bye,’ I called as the door slammed again. Aisling would never change.
    I trudged to the bathroom, peeling off clothes as I went. I stood under the shower, the water as hot as I could stand, until steam filled the whole room. I scrubbed my skin until it was tender to the touch, ridding every inch of my body of the night’s grime and the smell of the yards. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Sally-Ann’s huddled form, or the dirty old man lunging at me, or Superintendent Godley’s unreadable expression when he looked at me. I had no idea what he’d made of me, if anything, but seeing him in person had been a thrill for a police geek like me. I assured myself that I’d have preferred Sally-Ann to be unharmed even if she was the only reason I’d got to meet him; I wasn’t completely cynical.
    Once I was dressed in the shorts and vest that were my summer pyjamas, I went into the living room and curled up on the sofa, switching on the television to see the news. There was a report on the local London news about Sally-Ann, although she wasn’t named andthere weren’t many details. I knew enough to fill in the blanks. The reporter was a young woman, beautifully dressed in a pale-pink shirt and pearl earrings, her hair immaculate and blonde, her make-up understated.
    ‘The victim is in a critical condition in a London hospital. Detectives are waiting to interview her once she’s well enough to speak to them. In the meantime, police are warning young women to take sensible precautions to ensure their safety when they are out at night in the capital. Their advice is to be wary of strangers, travel in groups where possible, and use licensed taxis at all times.’
    There was nothing to say Sally-Ann hadn’t done all of those things, I thought, furious on her behalf. The reporter sounded complacent, as if no sensible woman would have found herself in Sally-Ann’s predicament. It wasn’t the victim’s fault that someone had chosen to maim her. It wasn’t her fault that she’d walked down lonely streets, or that no one had heard her screams until it was too late. It wasn’t my fault that we hadn’t got there in time to arrest the rapist and save her from the worst of his attentions either, but I couldn’t quite forgive myself for that. I switched off the television and was unsettled to find tears streaking my face. At least it had happened at home, I thought, rubbing at my cheeks to wipe the tears away. At least I hadn’t broken down at the scene.
    I wandered into my room and drew the curtains, then lay down on my bed, feeling every muscle in my body complain as I eased back and tried to relax. I played last night’s shift back in my head, as I always