Vanishing Point. Danielle Ramsay

‘And it might counteract the complaint he’s made against you.’

      Brady looked out the passenger window and shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to press charges when he felt that the punches were deserved. He just had to make sure he kept out of Adamson’s way.

      He caught a glance of his reflection in the wing mirror. He face was a mess, which explained why he hurt like hell. The cut above his swollen eye looked nasty and his ribs still burnt every time he breathed. But he didn’t have the time or inclination to get himself checked over. There was still too much work to do; and part of that involved Simone’s attack.

      He rummaged in his jacket pocket for some painkillers. Finding some, he popped a couple in his mouth and washed them down with a swig of coffee. He grimaced at the bitter aftertaste.

      ‘Any updates while you were waiting for me?’ he asked abruptly.

      ‘We’ve got a local teenage girl whose parents have just rung the station to file a missing persons report.’

      ‘How long’s she been missing?’ Brady questioned as he turned to Conrad.

      ‘That’s all I know, sir,’ answered Conrad. ‘Harvey and Kodovesky are dealing with it though.’

      Brady nodded. Given the number of teenagers who disappeared for a couple of days after an argument with their parents, it wasn’t worth getting excited about. Most would eventually return home. But unfortunately there were always the few cases where the missing teenager never resurfaced, swallowed up in one of the large cities by prostitution, or worse.

      Brady leaned his head back against the headrest and wearily massaged his forehead.

      ‘Problem, sir?’ queried Conrad.

      ‘I’m not sure,’ answered Brady honestly.

      Conrad looked over at him. It was clear from his dark, pensive expression that his boss had no intention of sharing whatever it was that was bothering him.

      Brady’s silence troubled Conrad. He hadn’t spoken about whether he had actually seen Simone Henderson in the ICU. But Conrad knew better than to ask.

      *

      Conrad parked up outside the station. Brady got out the car without waiting for him. He took out his BlackBerry as he walked towards the station and scrolled down his list of contacts until he came to Amelia Jenkins. He pressed call.

      ‘Amelia?’ Brady said.

      Before she had a chance to say anything Brady quickly cut in. ‘Where are you?’

      ‘I’m heading to the cafeteria for lunch,’ answered Amelia, surprised by his directness.

      ‘Good, I’ll meet you there in a few minutes.’

      He hung up before she had a chance to object.

      ‘I’m going to grab some lunch from the basement. Do you want anything?’ Brady asked as Conrad caught up.

      Conrad’s expression was enough to let Brady know he was still feeling queasy from the autopsy.

      ‘Thanks, but I’m fine, sir,’ answered Conrad.

      ‘Alright, you check with Harvey and Kodovesky exactly what they have on this missing girl.’

      Brady didn’t wait for an answer as he walked in through the double doors of the station. Neither did he give Turner, the desk sergeant, a chance to ask what had happened to his face. He’d leave the damage limitation to Conrad.

       Chapter Fifteen

      Brady kept his head down, avoiding the quizzical looks as he made his way through the lunchtime crowd towards Amelia. The last thing he wanted was questions about his beaten-up face. Then again, he accepted, he’d be surprised if news hadn’t already got around.

      He headed for the cracked, red laminated, sixties-style table under the wrought iron barred window where Amelia was sitting with her back to him and the rest of the cafeteria. She was easy to spot with her black razor-cut bob. That, and the fact she was the only one sitting alone.

      ‘I take it you heard,’ she greeted him coolly, not looking up from her phone.

      There was an edge to her voice. Exasperation … irritability? Brady wasn’t sure. He accepted that maybe it was both.

      He pulled out a chair and sat down next to her, waiting until she’d finished whatever message she was sending.

      ‘Oh my God, Jack? What happened to you?’ she said, her voice betraying her as she looked up and saw his face.

      ‘It’s nothing,’ Brady answered lamely.

      ‘Have you had that cut above your eye checked out?’ she asked, frowning. ‘It looks really nasty …’

      ‘It’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it,’ replied Brady, embarrassed by her concern.

      He looked away, pretending to be distracted by the noise around him, unable to hold her questioning gaze.

      To Brady’s relief her phone suddenly buzzed, diverting her attention from him.

      Amelia picked it up and read the message.

      He watched, surprised, as she chewed the corner of her red lips while she contemplated the content. He wondered whether the text was from some boyfriend and was surprised by the pang of jealousy he felt at the thought.

      ‘Sorry about that,’ Amelia said, as she turned the phone onto silent without replying.

      ‘Go ahead, answer it,’ offered Brady.

      ‘No. It’s not important,’ she lied.

      He looked at her. He didn’t know what it was about Amelia that made him feel so nervous when he was around her.

      ‘You were asking if I’d heard?’ Brady reminded, wanting to break whatever it was that was going on between them. ‘Heard what?’

      A flicker of disappointment registered on Amelia’s face.

      She nodded, suddenly resuming a detached and professional air.

      ‘Gates is furious with you,’ she pointedly stated.

      ‘Tell me something new,’ replied Brady laconically.

      ‘This isn’t funny, Jack,’ Amelia snapped, clearly frustrated by his response. ‘Adamson went straight to him and lodged a complaint about you – to add to the one from Frank Henderson.’

      ‘I take it Frank Henderson has been talking to Adamson then?’

      ‘You could say that,’ answered Amelia.

      Brady didn’t say anything.

      ‘Jack, why didn’t you just stay away? Why go looking for trouble?’

      ‘What if I was to say that I think the murder investigation I’m working on is connected with Simone Henderson’s attack?’

      ‘How?’ questioned Amelia, intrigued.

      ‘That’s what I’m trying to figure out. And that’s why I needed to talk to you.’

      ‘I’m listening …’ she said as she sat back, folded her arms and waited.

      Brady bent forward and lowered his voice, not wanting anyone around to overhear.

      ‘I haven’t got time now because I’ve got to be somewhere. But I promise I’ll fill you in later. In the meantime, I need you to do something for me. If I had any other choice, believe me I wouldn’t ask …’

      ‘Go on,’ she instructed with an edge of cynicism.

      ‘What I need is the surveillance footage for this morning’s shift covering the main reception area at Rake Lane,’ Brady explained. ‘And … I need your