Little Boy Blue

14

Helen walked back to her Kawasaki, lost in thought. Barring one occasion, she had only ever encountered Jake in his professional guise. They had met at his flat, where the lighting was dim and conversation kept to a minimum. Over time they had got to know each other better, but they were still playing roles during their sessions and Helen now realized how little she knew her friend. She had certainly never seen him as she had this morning – naked and unadorned, under the powerful glare of the mortuary lights.

She’d remembered that he had an eagle’s head tattooed on his neck, but had never asked him what it signified. She knew he didn’t speak to his parents, but had never asked who they were or where Jake was brought up. She knew he had an eye for the boys as well as the girls, but didn’t know which came first or whether he was looking for the same things as everyone else – commitment, security, a family. She wished now that she had asked more questions of someone she considered a true friend.

He had in the past thought of her as more than that. During the Ben Foster case, Jake had taken to following Helen, such was the level of his romantic obsession with her. She had put a stop to that, cutting off their relationship for a while, and to her surprise it had worked. When they had last met, by chance in a city centre bar, he’d been seriously dating a guy he’d recently met. He seemed happy and together, so much so that when he texted Helen a few months later, asking if she wanted to resume their sessions, she’d been sorely tempted. In the end, caution had won out, however, and she’d made alternative arrangements, keen to avoid messy emotional entanglements. But she still often thought of him.

Could the boyfriend be involved? It would be interesting to find out the status of their relationship and whether he frequented the Torture Rooms too. Had their romance been one long seduction, building up to this savage murder? It was tempting to head round to Jake’s flat now, tear it apart in the hunt for concrete leads, but to do so without an official ID of the victim would be foolish in the extreme. It was agonizing to have to wait – it felt like she was deliberately letting his killer off the hook – but she knew Jake had been picked up for drugs offences previously and that, once his tissue samples had been processed, his identity would be swiftly established.

Then the investigation would begin in earnest. The thought cheered and chilled Helen in equal measure. She knew her team would leave no stone unturned in their hunt for Jake’s killer, but what might their interrogation of Jake’s life mean for her? Had he kept records of their meetings? Any tokens of her? Had she left her mark on him? It was over two years since she’d used his services, but it was very possible that gaining justice for Jake would result in her exposure.

Part of her wanted to run from this, but her better part knew she had to run towards it. Whatever the possible consequences for her, she had to find his killer. She owed that – and a whole lot more – to her old friend. So climbing on to her bike, she fired up the engine and kicked away the brake. Her heart was thumping, she felt sick to her stomach, but there was no point delaying the inevitable, so, pulling back the throttle, she sped away from the mortuary in the direction of Southampton Central.