Blind Fury

Chapter Nineteen

I was just going to bed,” Anna said into the intercom.

“Let me in, Anna. I need to see you.”

There was something about his voice. Again he had used her Christian name, which he so rarely did. She opened the front door and returned to her bedroom to put on a wrap over her nightdress. She wondered what could be so urgent that he had called without, as she had requested, ringing her first. She sighed, hoping it wasn’t connected to Smiley. God forbid if he had managed to hang himself in the cell.

As she came out of the bedroom, Langton was closing the front door.

“Do you want a drink?” she asked.

“No, come here.”

She was puzzled. He took her by the hand and led her into her lounge.

“What’s happened?” she asked nervously.

“There is no easy way to say this, so I’ll come out with it directly.”

He was shaking, and she almost went to put her arms around him to comfort him. Then he dropped the bombshell.

“Anna, there was an incident in the prison. Welsh attacked Ken, and he’s... he’s dead, Anna. I am so sorry.”

She felt her legs buckle beneath her, and he caught her in his arms. She murmured over and over, “No... No... No...”

Langton held her tightly. “Come on, sit down, there’s a good girl.”

Her breath came in short gasps as he steered her toward the sofa and then sat beside her with his arm around her shoulders.

“What happened?” Her voice sounded even to her as if someone else were talking, asking the question, because she couldn’t focus.

“Apparently, they got the order for Welsh to be removed to Broadmoor this afternoon. They brought him out of his cell, and Ken was putting the cuffs on him. Welsh had somehow gotten a plastic fork, melted it down, honed it into a sharp point, and he stabbed Ken in the jugular.”

He didn’t add that Welsh had also stabbed Ken in the eye; they were unable to stem the blood flow, and he had collapsed and died in the ambulance. Due to the complicated entrance system to the special unit, the ambulance and prison medics had taken longer than usual to get there and assist the officers trying to keep Ken alive.

Anna was trembling all over and deathly pale. She stared ahead as if unable to comprehend what Langton was saying. He wished she would break down and weep, but she remained frozen. He got up and fetched a glass of brandy, bending down in front of her, holding it up to her lips. “I’ll stay here with you.”

The brandy dripped from her pale lips as if she were incapable of sipping it. Langton sat next to her and again placed his arm around her shoulders. He told her that Ken’s father had called the incident room, and he had taken the call. He felt that if he could keep on talking, she would break down and release the tears, but she continued staring blank-eyed.

Langton drank the remains of the brandy himself, at a loss as to what he could do to comfort her. He hadn’t told her that Welsh had screamed at Ken that he could never have his girl, his madness out of control as he repeatedly stabbed and lashed out.

Anna remembered a day when she’d been about five or six years old and her father had taken her to the local public pool. She’d had lessons and was able to float by herself, was almost about to swim, and she had been so excited, wanting to show him. He had placed a towel around her tiny, thin shoulders, saying it was time to get dressed, and she remembered running from him, laughing naughtily as she jumped into the pool. But it was not the shallow end, and as the water enveloped her, it felt like it was sucking her down. She raised her arms but remained deep in the water, unable to breathe, sinking deep down and drowning. Anna felt exactly as she had done all those years ago. Drowning.

“Anna? Anna!”

Langton’s voice sounded like her panic-stricken father’s, willing her to surface, but it was the lifeguard who dragged her to the surface and her father who lifted her from the water and rocked her in his arms as she wept and choked, “I was floating, Daddy, I was floating.”

Langton was at his wits’ end. He carried her into her bedroom and gently laid her down on the bed. She seemed totally unaware of him or of where she was. He lay beside her, cradled her in his arms, willing her to break and weep, but she remained oblivious. Langton had known grief himself. He’d kissed his first wife goodbye to go off to work shortly before receiving the phone call informing him that she had collapsed and died of a brain tumor. Nothing had prepared him for the shock, and he had never gotten over the loss of the woman he had adored. He had buried his grief, pressed it so far down inside that he had returned to work almost immediately. He didn’t want Travis to bury the pain, as he had done, and it was extraordinary that, lying beside her, he felt an uncontrollable need to weep himself. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he held Anna, and still she remained caught in her own world. He squeezed her tighter.

“For God’s sake... Anna. Anna!”

He shook her, and she was like a rag doll. It was becoming more and more painful for him, as he had no idea what he could or should do to bring her out of such deep trauma. It was dark in the room, and she remained in his arms. If she was comforted by him, he couldn’t tell, but after what felt like an interminable time, she gave a sigh.

“Thank you for coming,” she whispered, her head resting on his chest.

“I’ll stay as long as you need me.” He stroked her hair. He wished he could see her face, but she was pressed against his chest. He could feel her heart beat against him, and then her body shuddered as at last she wept. It was as if he were holding a child; awful, heartbreaking sobs convulsed her, and she continued for so long that she exhausted herself and grew quiet. He eased her away from him; her eyes were closed, and she was sleeping.

Langton gently placed her head on a pillow and then got up and wrapped the duvet around her. Totally drained, he returned to the lounge to pour himself another brandy and sat smoking and drinking, loath to leave. However, he was exhausted, and he, too, slept, sitting upright on the sofa.

It was about five in the morning when he woke with a start; he could hear the shower. His knee hurt like hell, his neck felt stiff, and his back ached, so he went into the kitchen, opened one of his pill bottles, and took a handful of painkillers. He kept on listening, unsure if he should go into her bedroom. He didn’t, but he put on some fresh coffee and waited.

She had combed her wet hair away from her face and was wearing a dressing gown when she appeared. She looked extremely young and vulnerable, and he felt old and crumpled, wanting to open his arms and hold her, but she walked to the percolator and poured herself a coffee.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No, but you need to go home and get some rest.”

“I had enough. I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

“We have Smiley before the magistrate’s court this morning,” she said, sitting on one of the bar stools.

“Mike and the team can take care of that. I hope you are not thinking of going in to the station.”

“I have a lot of reports to finish up.”

“Anna,” he said sternly. “Listen to me. You take time out. There is no need for you to be at the station. I am giving you a warning: you can’t bury this with work, you have to give yourself time, you can’t heal—”

“Please don’t tell me what I can or can’t do,” she snapped.

“I bloody well will tell you. I am not going to allow you to start work until I am satisfied that you’ve had enough time.”

“I don’t want it. We will have to prepare for the trial, and I have a lot of reports to finalize.” She glared at him; her eyes were overbright, and she was shaking.

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said. “I’ll handle it. I mean it. You are not to even think about coming in.”

She turned on him in a fury. “I can handle this, and I know exactly what I need to do, so don’t lecture me. I can’t stay here, I can’t be on my own.”

Her mouth turned down like a child’s and he reached for her hand. “Listen to me, Anna. I know what grief is like, loss, I’ve been there, and I did exactly what you are attempting to do. I went straight back to work, I hardly gave myself time to bury my wife. I did anything I could to stop or stem the grief, but you know what happened? It never goes away. It sits inside you, and just when you think the pain is over, it sneaks up and grabs your heart and squeezes it. You can’t let this happen to you. Please, just take my advice, will you? Look what it did to me.”

She drew his hand closer to wrap herself in his arms, and then she hugged him tightly. She smelled of shampoo and Pears soap, and he rested his head on her shoulder. From the comforter, he became comforted, and she wasn’t like a child but all woman.

“You have to let me deal with this in my own way. I can’t be alone, because without Ken, that’s what I am, and I am going to have to face it. Staying here in the flat by myself won’t help me, so please, you go now. I’ll take the time I need, I promise.”

They remained together, her arms around him and his head resting against her slender neck. She was kissing him sweetly and patting him, and all the love he had felt for her returned and overwhelmed him.

“I will always be here for you, Anna. You’re not alone, believe me. You call me, come to me, whenever you want.”

“I will,” she said, and moved away from him. He ached to draw her close to him again, but he didn’t. Instead, he eased his complaining body into a stretch and drained the remains of his coffee.

“I’ll call you later, all right?”

She nodded, needing him to go, wanting desperately to be by herself. When the front door closed behind him, she went back to the bar stool. He’d left his cigarettes and lighter on the kitchen bar. She took one and lit it and inhaled the smoke. It made her head spin, but she continued smoking, sitting and sipping her coffee, willing herself to do what she knew she needed to do.

All the bridal magazines she put into a black bin liner and left it with the garbage for collection. She cleaned and Hoovered the flat and remade the bed and then dressed. She drove to the jewelry shop to reclaim her engagement ring. She slipped it onto her finger and returned home after stopping to buy groceries. As if in a trance, she put away the groceries, cleaned up the kitchen, and then sat by the phone.

She was about to ring Ken’s parents when the phone rang. It was Lizzie, Ken’s sister. Anna felt the emotion well up inside, and she could hardly speak.

“I’m so sorry. We are all in shock, but I wanted to tell you that I will always want to keep in touch with you, and I know how much Ken loved you.”

Anna swallowed but still couldn’t talk.

“I’ve been talking to Mum and Dad. Mum’s taken it very badly, and with her heart condition, I’m going up to stay to oversee the funeral with Dad and...” Lizzie stifled a sob. Then she sniffed. “Thing is, Anna, Mum sort of blames you. You know that if Ken hadn’t met you, this would never have happened, as the bastard who killed Ken had this obsession with you. So Mum doesn’t want to see you at the funeral.”

“That’s all right,” Anna whispered.

“No, it isn’t, and I feel terrible about it. I know she’ll come round eventually, it’s just so painful right now.”

“I understand.”

“Well, I feel terrible. Our brother, Robin, is flying in from Australia, so that should help her, but we have to take care of her. I’m so sorry about this, but if there is any change of plan, I’ll call you. I am thinking of you, and...”

Lizzie broke down crying, and Anna couldn’t bring herself to say anything. She just replaced the receiver. She returned to the kitchen and lit another of Langton’s cigarettes, sitting smoking. It was odd, she thought, about Ken’s brother, unable to come to their wedding but making the effort to come to the funeral. She remained sitting, feeling as if she were caught in thick dense fog, unable to take in anything, yet slowly realizing that it was a reality. Ken was never coming back. No wedding, no living together, no nothing.

She stubbed out the cigarette and went back to the phone. Should she call them? She decided she would write, and she spent a long time writing and rewriting a letter to his parents and ripping it up and starting again. She constantly looked at the ring on her finger. It didn’t twist and turn; it fit perfectly now.

Langton called, and she let the machine answer. She couldn’t talk to him, talk to anyone. Instead, she went into her bedroom and lay down.

On her bedside table was the forever-present photograph of her beloved father, and beside it was the only photograph she had of Ken. It was the one he had sent her, aged eight, dressed as a clown. She lay with her face turned to the two photographs of the most beloved people in her life, and she cried.

Anna did not go to the funeral; nor did she send the letter to Ken’s parents. She spent most of the time looking over the notes for the forthcoming trial. Every night she slept turned to the two photographs and left her machine on, refusing any calls. Lizzie had called numerous times, Langton up to three times a day. She had told Langton she wouldn’t be able to cope being alone, but now she found the solitariness helped her remain calm, and gradually, she knew she couldn’t cry anymore. She even practiced controlling the surges of grief that would overtake her when she least expected it.

Her flat was immaculate, and those extra pounds she had intended to lose had gone, as she hardly ate, but she smoked a lot. Cigarettes no longer made her feel dizzy when she inhaled. Lighting and sucking in the smoke gave her a strange energy and made her aware of her shaking hands. Always glancing at her engagement ring, she had decided she would never take it off.

The day she decided to return to work, she dressed carefully, putting on black suit with a crisp white shirt and a pencil skirt, shedding the old tracksuit she had worn most days. She had washed and blow-dried her hair and made up her face carefully, adding lip gloss. She stood staring at herself in the wardrobe mirror and felt she was ready, her armor in place. She knew that the first day back was going to be difficult, and she intended to make it as unemotional as possible. Not for herself; she knew the team would find it hard to approach her.

Anna parked in her space at the station. She was glad not to see Langton’s car and to know he wouldn’t be there. She smoked a cigarette before she got out and headed into the station. It was exactly as she had expected. As she walked to her desk, the incident room went quiet. All eyes were on her as she put down her briefcase. Barbara was the first to come to her desk, and she had tears in her eyes.

“I am so sorry, it’s just terrible. If there is anything I can do, you just have to say.”

“Thank you, Barbara. I’m fine now.”

Joan looked over. Her face showed such compassion, and like Barbara, she looked like she was going to burst into tears.

Barolli brought her a coffee; he couldn’t meet her eyes. “You need anything, let me know.”

“Thank you, I will. I’ll need an update as soon as I’ve got myself sorted out.”

“Yeah, whenever you are ready.”

Mike Lewis looked through the blinds in his office. Langton had said that he doubted Travis would return for a few months, at least until the trial was set, but there she was. It had been only two weeks. He took a deep breath, finding it difficult to go out and face her. Everyone found it hard, since she appeared to be totally in control, spending a long time looking over the incident board and making her own notes.

Mike eventually came and patted her shoulder. “We’re all here for you, Anna, and you have my condolences.”

“Thank you, I appreciate that. Tell me, have they prepared a full case file for the Chrissie O’Keefe murder?”

Mike told her that Smiley would stand trial for that murder, along with the other four. He said that Smiley had been refused bail and was awaiting trial at Wandsworth Prison. The trial date was set for three months’ time, and they would now be preparing all the evidence ready for the prosecution case conferences and defense disclosure. The CPS had been quick to oversee the case files and appoint a top queen’s counsel to prosecute.

Anna got into the routine of coming in to the station at eight-thirty every morning and leaving at six. The team began to pack up the incident room in preparation for the forthcoming trial, boxing the statements and evidence. As soon as the trial took place, they could all be allocated to another murder inquiry. It was not a foregone conclusion that they would work together; they could be split up. Anna hoped that Langton would retain them all. It would be up to him to select who went where.

It had been almost three months since the death of Ken, and Anna was surprised to see Langton in Mike’s office when she came in for work. He had continued to make calls and check up on her, but over the past few weeks, these had gradually stopped, and in some way she was relieved.

When he came out of Mike’s office, he smiled and came to her desk. He set down an envelope. “I reckon this is about time. Open it.”

Langton had put her forward for promotion. She would have to go through all the promotional interviews and written reports that she had been subjected to previously. She smiled up at him and asked whether he would be on the board, as at her last attempt at promotion. He shook his head and said that as he had personally suggested she be one of the candidates, he would not be on the review team.

“You’d better not cock it up this time,” he joked, and she was touched that he was recommending her.

“Thank you.”

“Take your time, make sure all your written reports are up to scratch, and don’t get shirty with the psychologist.”

Anna gave a soft laugh. The previous time she had become angry with some of the questions she was asked, and believing that Langton had scuppered her promotion, she had walked out before the interview was completed.

“I’ll behave myself,” she said, putting the envelope in her briefcase.

“I think you are ready for it. You’ve done terrific work on the Smiley case, and you have shown that you have become a real team player, so now it’s up to you. Good luck.”

“I’ve never really thanked you for being there for me,” she said quietly. “It can’t have been easy, having to tell me about Ken.”

“It wasn’t, but you’ll have time with the trial on to do your grieving.” He gave her a long look and then leaned over her desk to kiss her cheek.

“I love you,” he said.

Then he walked out, and she realized that she had been able to say Ken’s name without that terrible rush of emotion. She knew, too, that it was time to write the letter to his parents, and to go and see Lizzie.

That weekend Anna finally sent the letter to Ken’s parents and called on Lizzie. It was a major step in coming to terms with her loss, but she found the meeting difficult, as it brought back so many memories. Lizzie made a toasted sandwich and a pot of tea. Anna was so tense that it was hard to swallow, but she forced herself to take a couple of bites.

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want it,” Lizzie said, and Anna smiled gratefully as the other woman removed the plate and tipped the remains of the sandwich into the bin. She was standing with her back to Anna, looking out into the garden at the children’s swing and remembering the last time they had been together. She could almost hear Ken’s laughter as he played around with her boys, the way he had come into the kitchen with her youngest on his shoulders.

“Oh, God, it’s so unfair,” Lizzie said, and burst into tears.

Anna went and put her arms around her, refusing to break down herself. After a while she said that she would have to leave, as she was working toward the trial.

“Will you come round and see the boys again?”

Anna nodded, but she knew she wouldn’t keep in touch. She wanted the past behind her.

Lizzie walked her to the front door, and Anna thanked her for the tea, apologizing for not eating, then hurried out to her car. Lizzie felt that she was unemotional, almost aloof; she said to her husband that night that she had found Anna almost a different person. Lizzie hadn’t even been able to put her arms around Anna, as she had wanted.

Ken’s parents wrote a sad letter back and apologized for not wanting her to be at their son’s funeral. Anna presumed that it was Roy Hudson who had written the letter. He said they were coming to terms with the loss of Ken but found it very difficult, as he was such a wonderful son. She found herself having to force back tears when he added that he also would have made a good husband.

Anna folded the letter and then tore it to shreds. It was another chapter closed, and she would not contact them again.

The trial had front-page coverage, and the team held up well throughout. Anna took her hours of cross-questioning by Smiley’s defense team with a cool authority. She was never rattled but in total control in an impressive performance that did not go unnoticed. Smiley was found guilty and sentenced to whole-life imprisonment with no chance of parole.

As soon as the trial was completed, Anna went before the promotional board and this time had no emotional attachments to worry about, as the three high-ranking officers were none she had ever met. She was touched that one of them mentioned that Detective Chief Superintendent James Langton had recommended her highly. She also handled the lengthy interview with the psychologist far better than she had previously. She was confident that she could not have done better, but she would have to wait three months for the results.

The next case Anna was assigned to was the suspected murder of an elderly woman whose body was discovered mummified in her basement. It was a case that Mike Lewis was allocated to oversee, and they worked well together with a new team. Barolli was also up for promotion to detective inspector, but he wasn’t confident, as he felt he had done badly on the written tests. Anna didn’t like to say how confident she felt but kept busy with the case in hand, which turned out to be a sad situation rather than a brutal killing.

The elderly woman had been dependent on her son for twenty years due to a heart condition; he had waited on her lovingly, and when she had died, he couldn’t bear to part with her. He had wrapped her in the sheets and kept her in the basement for five years. He had somehow managed to keep her death a secret, talking about her health and neighbors, but also claiming her pension every month.

Anna had found the tragedy less affecting than Mike, who felt that the man shouldn’t be charged. Anna had surprised him with her detachment, saying that “filial love” had not stopped him from illegally claiming his mother’s pension and living off it. Mike noticed then how much she had changed; she was more brusque than she had ever been, always businesslike, and yet the team respected her as much as Mike, if not more so. She was in many ways unapproachable on any kind of social level, though her ambition had not diminished. On the contrary, at times he felt as if she were nudging him out of the inquiry.

No sooner had Anna closed the case of the mummified woman than she received confirmation that her promotion was accepted. Anna was now detective chief inspector. DCI Travis was one of the youngest women to gain that rank, and Mike was relieved that from now on, she would be handling her own inquiries. Poor Paul Barolli yet again failed his promotional exams, so it was possible he would work for Anna, but after the pressure she had put on him during the Smiley inquiry, he didn’t fancy being under her command.

Langton had taken a bottle of congratulatory champagne to her flat, and she had opened it, admitting only to him how proud she was. He’d been there a short time before she announced that she had a previous arrangement. He’d been hoping to take her out to dinner but downed the remainder of his glass. As he left, he cupped her face in his hand and kissed her forehead. He felt her body tense away from him.

“You’ve grown up, Travis. Sometimes I look at you and hardly recognize that girl I lived with. I have always reckoned you were special in every way, but now you have a big career ahead of you.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

He hesitated. “Don’t make your whole life your career, darlin’. You’ll get over this and you’ll—”

She smiled and put a finger to his lips. She said she didn’t intend to; she was going out for dinner with some friends.

“Good. Well, onward and upward.”

She closed the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief. She didn’t have any dinner date, she didn’t have any other friends but him, and she fully intended to make her career the focus of her life. Nothing was going to stop her. DCI was just the beginning, and she had no intention of ever allowing anything or anyone to muddy the waters.

She carried her half-filled glass of champagne into the bedroom, lit a cigarette, and let the smoke drift from her mouth, forming a perfect ring. She placed the champagne flute between the photographs of her father and Ken. She had decided that she would not be able to form a relationship with anyone. Ken would be enough. Losing him had been as painful as losing her father. She picked up the glass and lifted it in a toast.

“I made it, Daddy. You never got further than detective inspector. I’m DCI Travis now, and I am going to make you so proud of me.”

She sipped the champagne and then looked at the funny photograph of Ken as a little boy in his clown’s outfit. No, there would not be time for anyone else now. The ambitious streak that had always been inside her was now full-blown — and she would allow nothing to stand in her way.