Vanishing Point

But why she would be calling him at 7:30am was anyone’s guess. He hadn’t seen her since the last investigation they had worked on together, which was over six months ago. Amelia worked with the force as a forensic psychologist. But for some reason she opted out and had turned to practising clinical psychology instead. Brady presumed something had shaken her to her core. Which was why he was so surprised both that Gates had asked her to be part of the investigation and that Amelia had agreed. He knew that Gates had worked with Amelia when she had been a forensic psychologist, which meant he knew she was good. That, and he trusted her, which was why Brady presumed he had requested her assistance.

‘The DCI is out for blood given that one of our own was attacked early this morning in Madley’s nightclub,’ continued Turner.

Brady realised now why Turner was so agitated.

‘Who?’ Brady asked, realising he had been sat behind his desk for too damned long. Once news this crucial would have reached him immediately. Now he was so out of the circuit that it took the watchdog Turner to fill him in on the night’s events.

Then he remembered Conrad. This was obviously what he had wanted to tell him.

‘I’m sorry, Jack … I don’t know how to tell you this …’ Turner uncomfortably began.

‘Who, Charlie? Who was attacked?’ asked Brady, starting to feel uneasy.

‘Henderson,’ Turner quietly replied.

Brady felt as if he had just been punched in the guts. He couldn’t breathe. He leaned forward, resting his hands on the reception desk to steady himself. His head was spinning. All he could think was that it couldn’t be her. She wasn’t the Henderson Turner was talking about. It had to be someone else. But he already knew it was. After all, he had seen her with his own eyes in Madley’s nightclub. And he had turned and left. Left her alone with two men who, for all he knew, were responsible for … He couldn’t bring himself to think about it.

Brady raised his head and looked at Turner’s concerned face, searching for some sign that he had got it wrong.

‘Simone?’ Brady mumbled, his dark brown eyes begging Turner to tell him he was mistaken.

Turner nodded sadly, unable to repeat her name.

‘What happened to her?’ Brady whispered hoarsely, trying with all his might to ignore the panic that had taken hold of him.

‘That’s it. We don’t know,’ Turner answered quietly. He dropped his gaze, unable to look Brady in the eye. ‘An anonymous emergency call came through shortly after 3am this morning locating an injured DC locked in the gents’ toilets in the Blue Lagoon …’

‘And?’ pushed Brady, already fearing the worst.

Brady now understood why uniform had been stationed outside Madley’s nightclub and the reason the double glass doors into the premises had been sealed off with blue incident tape.

Turner shook his head, still unable to look Brady in the eye.

‘She was found naked … whoever had left her there had …’ Turner faltered, not wanting to say.

‘What? What did they do to her?’ Brady hissed, clenching his fists hard, fearing the worst.

‘Someone took a knife to her stomach and sliced her open … and cut out her tongue.’

‘God no …’ He felt as if he was going to throw up. ‘Is she? Is she still …’ Brady couldn’t bring himself to ask the obvious question.

‘She’s in a critical condition, Jack. As far as I know she’s still in surgery.’

Brady numbly nodded as he dragged a trembling hand through his hair. He was trying his hardest to keep his head together.

‘Why wasn’t I called in for this, Charlie?’ he eventually asked.

Turner shook his head.

‘You know better than me,’ he reluctantly answered.

‘What do you mean?’ Brady asked as shock turned to desperation. ‘Surely Gates will need everyone he can get to work on this?’

‘I know, I know, bonnie lad,’ sympathetically agreed Turner.

‘Why would that stop Gates from letting me work on finding out who … who did this to her?’ Brady asked, already knowing the answer.

‘Even you can understand why Gates doesn’t want you involved. Especially now he’s got Claudia back working for the force again. She may not be a duty solicitor here any more, but she’s doing a fine job with that sex trafficking project of hers in Newcastle. A lot of really good PR’s coming out of that for Northumbria Police and that’s down to her,’ explained Turner gently.

Brady said nothing.

Turner shook his head. ‘Come on, Jack. You know Gates was furious with you when she suddenly left for London. And then the next thing, there was Simone requesting an immediate transfer out of here. I’m surprised you didn’t end up in uniform.’

Brady knew that Gates had a soft spot for Claudia. Who didn’t? When Claudia suddenly quit the North East, Gates had found it difficult to replace her. She was damned good at her job and sorely missed by everyone; including Brady.

‘You’ve got too much invested, Jack. Sooner or later it clouds the judgement.’

‘Gates? Where is he?’ demanded Brady.

‘He’s in the first-floor conference room. It’s set up as an Incident Room. You should still find him there,’ Turner replied. ‘But if I was you I’d stay out of the way for now. Let him deal with the briefing on Simone’s attempted murder and then talk to him afterwards. The last person they’re going to want walking into that room is you.’

Brady ignored Turner and started to make his way to the first floor.

‘Jack?’ Turner called after him. ‘Watch yourself, will you? Gates is out to crucify someone and, given your track record with him lately, you want to make sure it’s not you.’

‘Thanks,’ muttered Brady. ‘I’ll keep that in mind.’

Brady suddenly halted and turned back. ‘Charlie?’

Turner looked at him.

‘Who’s heading the investigation? Into Simone?’

Brady knew the answer from his silence.

‘Adamson?’

Turner nodded. Brady had expected as much.

‘Jack? Don’t do anything stupid,’ warned Turner.

In all the years he had known Brady, Turner had never seen him react to news this way. Then again, he couldn’t blame him. This was personal to Brady: he had worked closely – too closely some would say – with DC Simone Henderson. And that’s what was troubling Turner.

Brady forced himself to meet Turner’s concerned gaze.

‘Like what?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

Turner resignedly shook his head. ‘I don’t know, bonnie lad. But that’s what worries me.’