The Red Dahlia

Chapter Sixteen

The Incident Room was waiting eagerly for an update. Langton had ordered a briefing for ten minutes after their return. He began with a brief summary of his session with Charles Wickenham. He had the team laughing when he struck up the same pose and mimicked his upper-class drawl. Then he went quiet, shaking his head.

'He maintained that attitude throughout, denying knowing Louise Pennel or Sharon Bilkin. He was dismissive about any kind of incestuous relationship with his younger daughter Emily. He said he could provide a doctor's certificate to clarify his daughter was mentally unstable. There were no charges and we have not as yet reinterviewed his daughter.'

Langton lit a cigarette and paused; he then looked to Anna and gestured for her to step forward. 'Whilst Lewis and I tried to get a handle on Edward Wickenham, DI Travis was interviewing Gail Harrington. So, over to you, Anna.'

Anna gave a detailed report, referring to her notes. She described Gail's nervous state and aired her suspicion that Gail was taking some kind of drugs.

'She is very, very nervous, very scared of her future father-in-law and, I would say, close to a breakdown. I think she does know more than I could get out of her. She also sported an oversized diamond engagement ring — maybe to keep her quiet.'

Langton coughed and gave a twist of his hand for her to get on with it; she flipped through her notes.

'When shown the photographs of Sharon Bilkin and Louise Pennel, she denied ever seeing or meeting either of them. You will recall that Sharon Bilkin was a model, doing mostly catalogue work. Gail Harrington was also a model and, in an attempt to get her to be more at ease with me, I asked about her work. The press cuttings and her CV model pictures took some ploughing through, but in one photograph, the other model with Gail Harrington was Sharon Bilkin.'

There was a low murmur. Anna asked for a glass of water, and Langton handed her one.

'My next interview was with Mrs Hedges, the housekeeper.'

Again Anna referred to her notes, explaining that it had taken some considerable time for Mrs Hedges to open up. Langton was looking at his watch, his foot tapping.

'I did not really get to the nitty-gritty until she told me about looking after Charles Wickenham's father. She said he was a really bad-tempered man with a vicious temper. He was, however, very generous to her, which was one of the main reasons she remained with the family. She described how the old man would not just ridicule his only son, but was also very violent towards him. The boy was subjected to terrible punishments; at times, he was unable to go to school due to his beatings. Mrs Hedges said she always tried to protect Charles from his father, but eventually he was sent away to boarding school. During his vacations, the punishments would begin again; as he got older, they would result in even worse physical violence. He would tie him up and leave him in the old barn; this was before it was renovated into the playground it is now. When Charles Wickenham grew old enough to retaliate, the old man introduced him to sexual perversion. Every weekend, there would be a carload of prostitutes shared between father and son. Mrs Hedges never even attempted to do anything about what she knew was going on, and there was no mother around to intervene. She did, however, tell me that there was a punishment room, beneath the barn; it had been an old wine cellar.'

Anna sketched out the main house, barn and stables in big square blocks and indicated on her rather crude drawings where this cellar would have been, pointing out that it might have been demolished as part of the renovations to the barn. Langton was now leaning forward; he stared intently at Anna and then at her drawings.

'Charles Wickenham went to Cambridge and qualified as a doctor. He spent two years working as a houseman in Bridge East Hospital before he joined the army. He rarely, if ever, returned home as he was travelling the world; for a lengthy period he was stationed in the Far East. He married Una Martin. Her father was a major in the same regiment, but Mrs Hedges could not recall which one it was. She was Edward Wickenham's mother.'

Anna now began to draw out the family tree, and although she had everyone's attention, they were beginning to get restless.

'Una Wickenham died of cancer shortly after they returned from abroad; Charles Wickenham had quit the army to take over the running of the estate. His father was dying and had lost a considerable amount of money; he had also sold off vast areas of land. By the time his father died, Charles Wickenham was running the estate full time. Like his father, he angered the locals by selling off vast tracts of land and some of the farms that bordered onto their property. He subsequently married Dominique Dupres: as we know from our time in Milan, the new Mrs Wickenham had quite a past. The parties that had been part of the old man's lifestyle now began again. Like father like son. So much so that by now, Edward Wickenham was being subjected to a similar punishment regime to that his father had suffered. He married a local girl and they lived in the thatched cottage he still occupies.

'The new Mrs Wickenham gave birth to two daughters, Justine and Emily. As soon as Mrs Hedges began to talk about the girls, her manner changed and she became very distressed. She referred to the suicide of Edward's wife as being a tragic cry for help: she had been detested by her father-in-law and scared of what she knew was going on. Mrs Hedges said she was constantly bedridden and became very frail; she could easily have been describing Gail Harrington!'

Anna took a sip of her water. Everyone was focused on her again.

'Mrs Hedges knew that Charles Wickenham was molesting both girls, and from a very early age. She said that Dominique had to be aware of what was going on, but did nothing; to quote Mrs Hedges, "the detestable woman was too busy doing dirty things with all these house guests, even her stepson": the sex sessions were taking place virtually every weekend. I asked about the abuse, and if she had ever witnessed the girls being sexually used by their own father. She was very tearful and shook her head, saying that she did not need to see, it was obvious, especially with the youngest child. I asked if she knew if Emily Wickenham had been pregnant. She refused to answer, and then began to cry. When I persisted, asking her again, she still refused to answer and kept on telling me how much she loved the girls. Just as I was thinking about calling it quits, she said, "Justine was tougher: she could handle him; she was like her mother, but little Emily was too young. He did a terrible thing and when she tried to make him stop, they sectioned her.'" Anna closed her notebook. 'That's it.'

She frowned. 'Sorry, not quite. Just as I was leaving, I asked Mrs Hedges if Charles Wickenham had ever had a secretary. This goes back to the advert we think Louise Pennel answered and therefore how she came to meet him. She said there had been a number of girls that came and went; none stayed long. He was a hard taskmaster and they were always too young and inexperienced. But if Wickenham is a serial killer, as Professor Marshe suggested, he would probably have killed before the Red Dahlia, so perhaps this is something we should follow up.'

The room was quiet as Anna returned to sit down. Lewis got up next and gave them the details from the stable boy. When he told them that he had seen Louise Pennel lying naked in the barn on 8 January, the room erupted — they all knew that was the day before she was murdered.

Langton then stepped back up. First, he moved to Louise Pennel's photograph. 'He lied about Louise.' He moved to Sharon Bilkin. 'We can assume he also lied about Sharon. It is quite possible she came to see him; if we question Gail Harrington further, we can find out if she had been at the house as one of those weekend guests. We have one guest identified but I'd like to press on to get more ID on the other men.'

Langton paused, frowning; then sighed. 'Do we have enough to bring him in? Without doubt, yes we have, but we still do not have any DNA evidence that links him directly to the murders. The fact that they had visited at his property does not mean he killed them: we know he had a truckload of tarts down most weekends, so these two girls could have just been there and left. Our killer could also be one or other of his house guests — it could even be his own son, Edward — but Wickenham is our prime suspect. The fact that this piece of scum had sexual intercourse with his own daughters has already been brought to the attention of the police and the case dismissed. He can prove that Emily is mentally unstable; what we have to prove without doubt is that Charles Wickenham is the Red Dahlia killer. Although it might look as if we have a shedload of damning evidence against him, it's still circumstantial. We have no weapon, no bloodstains, nothing that pinpoints Charles Wickenham as our killer. We do not know if he and his son are in this together. We do not know if the house guests also played a part in the torture and murder of our two victims.'

Langton took a deep breath. 'What we do have are warrants. We now have enough to gain access and search their properties: that's the barn, the main house, the stables, the thatched cottage and the cars. I intend going in with a fucking army. If there is a torture chamber in the old cellar, we'll find it. There may have been other victims, but we can't at this point in time open up more enquiries: we concentrate on our Red Dahlia. We also keep in mind that the original killer of the Black Dahlia was never brought to justice. Wickenham will have covered his tracks, but we'll derail him!'

Barolli wafted his hand and Langton smiled over at him.

'The taped call made to the journalist: can we still use it?'

'We can try, but even if he is the voice on tape, sick thing is, he could claim to be a pervert getting kicks out of wasting police time; we get enough calls every day from the sickos.'

Langton glanced at Lewis, who held up a small tape recorder. 'I taped him today, so we'll get a match or not anyway.'

Langton chuckled and wiped his shirt front. 'No flies on me!'

Lewis and Langton were closeted in his office, working on 'the hit', when they would search Wickenham's estate. It had to be carefully orchestrated, and they needed a lot of extra hands to ensure nothing was overlooked.

Anna spent the rest of the afternoon writing up her official report and when it came to just after six, she decided to call it quits for the day. She had just packed up when Barolli called over to ask if she was going to interview Emily Wickenham as per the duty list for that day. Anna sighed.

'I can do it on my way home, I suppose.'

Anna called Emily Wickenham twice and hung up when her answerphone clicked on. She decided to do some grocery shopping and try again afterwards, so she packed up her briefcase and left.

She was driving out of the station car park when the call came in to the Incident Room from the forensic team. They had discovered blood spatterings in the bathroom of Justine Wickenham's flat. They were taking the samples to the lab, but wanted one of the team over at the flat. As soon as Langton was told the update, he was eager to get over there himself; this was possibly the big break they had been waiting for.

Langton and Barolli arrived at Justine Wickenham's flat which was owned by the woman who ran the riding school. Justine paid her a monthly rent for the small, rather scruffy flat on the middle floor of a house that backed onto the stable yard. By the time Langton and Barolli walked in, the forensic team had packed up, apart from Ken Gardner who was sitting on the stairs having a quick cigarette.

'What you got for me?' Langton said.

'Not a lot, but it took a long time to find; the place may look like a tip, but somebody did a big cleaning job. We went through every room with a fine-tooth comb, as they say, and didn't think we'd get a result.'

He stubbed out his cigarette under his shoe and pocketed the stub. They followed him up the creaking narrow staircase, which was carpeted in hemp. Ken nodded to it. 'This is a bugger: it's rough and we had to go inch by inch; leaves a lot of fibres, but all we got was a face full of dust.'

He led them into a small, untidy sitting room and pointed. 'Lot of stale food left around which is unpleasant; the young lady is not very hygienic. The bedroom sheets look as if they've not been changed for months; we've taken them in.'

Langton said nothing as they looked into a dirty kitchen with a stack of pans piled in the sink.

'We had a real stinky time in here; something's wrong with the plumbing so, just in case, we took out the U-pipe — it was clogged with tea leaves and crap, but no body parts.'

Langton checked his watch irritably. Ken liked the sound of his own voice. Langton asked him to get a move on.

'Yeah, yeah; but I wanted you to know how many hours we've been holed up here; after the Dennis Neilson epic — you know they found a thumb in his drainpipe? — so we have to be diligent.'

'How did Justine Wickenham react to you being here?'

'Well, Miss Hoity-Toity made an appearance, said a few foul words, and then left. She kept on saying that it was all a fucking waste of time, as she was in Milan when the girl was murdered; she said that a couple of times. Anyway, she eventually left, slamming the door so hard it almost came off its hinges! Okay, the bathroom: now, we had to do a considerable amount in here, removing floorboards, etcetera. We tried to ease the bath out, but it broke a few tiles.'

Langton sighed; this was all to cover themselves for the damage claim that would no doubt be coming in.

Ken stood in the doorway. The bathroom was actually larger than Langton had expected. The toilet was on one side, the washbasin beside it. The cracked white tiles were dirty and the room had a mouldy smell. 'Water has leaked at some time beneath the bathtub and from the toilet, so it's pretty dank in here.'

Langton looked to the small red arrow stickers on the far side of the bath.

'Between six tiles, we found very, and I mean very, tiny droplets of blood, no seeping; it's like a fine spray hit the back rest. It had, as you can see, been washed down; these tiles were a lot cleaner than any of the others. Tiny spots were on each tile and some of the cement in between also had a faint smear. We have them being tested.'

Langton frowned. Louise Pennel's body had been drained of blood; it seemed to him very unlikely that this was where it could have happened.

'You know the victim's blood had been drained,' he said to Ken.

'Yes, I know; to be honest, I doubt if she could have been cut up here: I mean, that's pints of blood. We'd have found traces in the drains. This was more like a spray, the tiny drops were only the size of a pinhead, and they were at an upward slant.'

Langton was disappointed, but thanked Ken for his diligence, and he and Barolli decided to go over to the nearest pub for a pint and a sandwich.

Anna was parked on Portobello Road opposite Emily Wickenham's flat, trying to call her. The answerphone came on again. Anna looked up at the window. The curtains were drawn and the lights were on.

Anna locked her car and crossed the road. She was about to ring Emily's doorbell when the front door opened and a young girl with her hair in dreadlocks came out.

'Hi, is Emily in?' Anna asked, smiling.

'Dunno; she's the flat above mine, straight up the stairs.'

'Thank you.' Anna smiled again as the girl walked off down the road in thick heavy boots, her red skirt swirling.

Anna headed up the stairs to Emily's flat. She was about to knock when she noticed the door was off the latch; she heard raised voices.

'I am telling you what is happening; they are at my flat, Em, the police. Now, you have said something? Because why else would they be there?'

'I didn't! I swear, I didn't tell them anything!'

'Yeah, well, you can't remember one thing from the next! You must have said something. I can't go to my own flat, for Chrissakes!'

'I didn't say anything!'

'I hope to Christ you didn't, because you know what he'll do: he'll stop my fucking allowance. He won't listen to me. He won't believe that I never said a fucking word and he'll take it out on me! So tell me the truth, what did you tell them?'

Emily's voice screeched. 'I keep on telling you, I didn't say anything; they kept asking me but I never told them! I didn't, I swear I didn't!'

'Well, why are they at my flat then? I mean, why are they searching my flat? They all had white paper suits on: they were forensic cops, they were taking up my fucking carpet, Em!'

'But they won't find anything; you cleaned it all up!'

'I know, but the fact they are there freaks me out. If he cuts off my allowance, he'll do worse to you: he'll make you go back home.'

'I won't go, I won't go!'

Anna was literally the other side of the door; she could hear every word clearly. She was now in a quandary as to how to approach the girls. Should she walk straight in? She decided to go back down the stairs and call up: that way, they could never accuse her of breaking in.

As Anna got to the bottom of the stairs, she heard Justine becoming even more angry, then a door slam. Anna took this as her cue to call out.

'Hello! Hello!'

Justine stood at the top of the stairs with a furious look on her face.

'Hi, I am DI Travis; I was about to ring the bell when your friend from the flat below let me in. Your front door was open.'

Justine moved slowly down the stairs. 'Then you can just turn around and get the hell out of here. This is private property, so fuck off!'

'I just want to talk to Emily.'

'She doesn't want to see you, and you have no right to break in here! Get out!'

'If I could just see your sister for a moment?'

'You can't; I just told you. She is not seeing anyone, so turn around and get the fuck out of her flat!'

Justine was wearing jodhpurs and riding boots, and brandishing her riding crop. 'Don't make me use this, because I will. I also know the law; you have no right to come in without a warrant. This is private property, so I am giving you warning. Get out!'

Emily's frightened face now appeared at the top of the stairs. 'What's going on?'

'Go back into the flat, Emily, and shut the door; this woman wants to talk to you and she can't.'

'Why not let me just speak to her? It will only take a few moments,' said Anna calmly.

'No. If she talks to you, she wants a solicitor with her.'

'Why don't you stay with her?'

'Because I don't want to! I don't want you here. I am going to make a formal complaint. Now go away.' She lifted the riding crop.

Anna hesitated; she looked past Justine to the frightened Emily, and shrugged. 'Okay, you can contact your solicitor, and he can accompany you to the station. I was just hoping that this could be less formal.'

'Why do you want to see me?' Emily asked in a high-pitched voice.

'I am not prepared to discuss this on the stairs,' Anna said firmly.

'I don't want to go to the police station!'

Justine turned towards her sister. 'Go back and shut the door. Just do what I tell you to do; you will not be taken to any police station.'

'Well, she very likely will be, if she doesn't talk to me now.'

Justine turned her fury back to Anna. 'Piss off! You can't frighten me! She has done nothing wrong and you should just leave her alone.'

'I only want to ask a few questions.'

Anna was caught off guard as Justine suddenly launched an attack. The riding crop in her left hand, she jumped down the stairs, and with her right hand she gripped Anna's shirt front, pushing her backwards and hitting her head against the wall. Justine hauled Anna back to her feet and was about to bring down the crop on her face.

'Stop it, stop it!' Emily ran down the stairs and tried to get between them but Justine turned and grabbed her sister's hair, hauling her away, giving Anna a chance to back off. The doorbell rang; whoever it was kept their hand on the bell so it was a persistent high-pitched wail. Emily ran back up the stairs and into her flat.

'Don't answer it!' Justine shouted, as Anna made her escape. She ran to the front door and opened it.

Langton stood there. 'What the hell is going on? I could hear screams.'

Before Anna could explain, Justine appeared.

'Get out. Do you hear me? Get out!'

Langton stepped between them; he gripped Justine by the throat and pushed her hard against the wall. 'Calm down, you hear me? Calm down or you'll be arrested.'

Justine tried to bite him; she was almost frothing at the mouth with rage, but he held on and forced her to drop the riding crop. She looked crazed; her eyes bulged and spittle formed at the corners of her snarling mouth. 'Arrest me for what? She broke into my sister's flat; I know the law!'

Langton slowly released his hold. His voice was low and threatening. 'You have two seconds to leave, and don't think you've heard the last of this. One…'

He never got to say 'two' as Justine shrugged him off and walked out of the house. Emily was nowhere to be seen. Anna looked past him and up the stairs to the flat.

'The door was open; I just came to the stairs and called out…'

'How did you get in to this floor?'

'Someone let me in; another tenant, I think.'

He nodded, then frowned as he looked at her face; she had a slash mark on her cheek. 'Did she do this to you?'

Anna rubbed her head. 'Yes, she pushed me against the wall.'

'Do you want to bring charges?'

Anna shrugged. Langton looked at his hand where Justine had tried to bite it. 'Strong as an ox, isn't she?'

He gently held her head and felt where it had cracked against the wall. 'Going to have a god-awful bump on the back of your head. Do you feel dizzy at all?'

'No.'

He ran his thumb along the red weal on her cheek. 'Well, it didn't break the skin.' He sighed. 'Christ, what a fucking family.' Langton looked up at the closed flat door. 'We found some bloodstains at Justine's flat; they're being tested. You think this is a good time to talk to Emily or do you want to leave it?'

'Well, if she lets us in, why not, as we're both here?'

They headed up the stairs and knocked on the door. There was no answer; then Anna noticed water dripping down the wall into the stairwell. They could hear the gush of an overflow pipe.

'Is it from her flat?' Langton asked, staring down.

Anna said it had to be. He put his shoulder against the door. It took a good few tries before the lock gave way and the door burst open.

Emily Wickenham was lying in the bath, the water becoming a deeper red by the second. Langton hauled her out, getting soaked in the process, as Anna called for an ambulance. Emily had not made a very good job of her suicide attempt: only one wrist was cut to the artery. Langton made a tourniquet from a pair of tights drying on a line in the bathroom.

They both travelled with Emily to the emergency ward at Charing Cross Hospital. She was tested for drugs and the doctors pumped the paracetamol out of her stomach. Langton contacted Charles Wickenham and told him about Emily's situation. He said little, just a curt thank you for letting him know. Langton was still wearing his bloodstained clothes, his cuffs and shirt front stained heavily. He went off with a nurse to see if they could find something for him to wear. When he returned, he was wearing a rugby shirt borrowed from a male nurse and carried his own shirt in a plastic bag. He sat beside Anna and checked his watch.

'You want a coffee? There's a machine up the corridor?'

'No thanks.'

Langton walked off. It was another hour before they got news that Emily was in the clear, though very weak and sorry for herself. The doctor doubted that she would be in a fit state to talk to them, but it would be up to them if they wanted to wait.

It was after eleven when, to their surprise, Edward rather than Charles Wickenham arrived. He said little but seemed very agitated, not due to Emily's suicide attempt, but the inconvenience it had created.

'She's tried this before; her wrists are like a patchwork quilt!'

The same young doctor returned and called a nurse to take Edward in to see Emily.

Langton yawned. 'I guess we can go; nice of him to thank us.'

The nurse appeared and gestured to Langton. He joined her and they conferred before he returned to Anna.

'Emily wants to see you.'

'Me?'

'Yes, you. I'll wait here.'

Edward Wickenham was sitting in a chair by Emily's bedside, reading a newspaper. 'I can't wait much longer. Father said you had to come back with me. I've spoken to the nurse and doctor.'

He gave an irritated glance at the interruption as Anna tapped and entered. She was shocked to see how pale Emily was; her eyes were sunken and her skin looked like parchment.

'You wanted to see me?' she asked tentatively.

Emily nodded. Both her wrists were bandaged and she had a glucose drip in her right arm. She gave Anna a pleading look, then glanced back to her brother.

'She can't talk to anyone now, that must be obvious.' Edward Wickenham folded his newspaper. 'I'm arranging to take Emily home; anything that you need to speak to her about can be done from there when she has recovered. My father is, after all, a qualified doctor so there is no need to worry about my sister's care.'

Edward seemed not to notice Emily shrink with fear, but Anna did.

'Perhaps you should talk to my superior; he's still outside in the waiting room.'

Wickenham pursed his lips; he moved close to the bed and whispered to Emily. 'Don't say anything you will regret. I'll be two seconds.' He hesitated, not wanting to leave Anna alone with his sister, but then walked out.

Anna went close to the bed. Emily's voice quavered, frail. 'Please don't let them take me; they'll get me locked up. Please help me.'

'I really can't stop your brother; I have no right to do that.'

'You wanted to talk to me; I will, if you help me.'

Anna looked across to the door and then back at Emily. 'I'll see if they need to keep you in overnight. I would have thought they would automatically want to keep you in for observation.'

'Yes, yes, let me stay here.'

Anna felt uneasy leaving the girl alone, but knew she had to act quickly.

Langton was still sitting in the waiting room; when she walked in, he looked at his watch impatiently. 'There's not a lot either of us can do here. I suggest we leave and see her tomorrow.'

'Did her brother come in to talk to you?'

'No.'

Anna sat beside him. 'She's terrified of being taken home. She said they will section her, put her away. If that happens, you know we will have a hard time taking anything she says as evidence.'

'We can't stop him; they're her family.'

'Isn't there something we can do? Maybe talk to the doctors and suggest they keep her here overnight? Or at least until we've had time to talk to her: because she will talk now, I'm sure of it.'

Langton stood up and stretched his arms. 'Thing is, what do you think she knows? I mean, we know she was not at the house when Louise Pennel was there, so whatever she knows must hark back to the incest situation, which we are pretty sure went on. But it still doesn't give us any evidence connected to the murder.'

'But what if she does know something? You saw her sister was vicious enough and angry enough to try and stop her talking to me. It's worth a try getting them to keep her here and giving me a chance to see what she can give us.'

Langton yawned and looked at his watch again. 'Let me talk to the doctor but I'm not hanging around here any longer; I'm knackered.' He left the waiting room.

Anna sat for a moment before she returned to Emily's room. She was sitting up on the edge of the bed; they had put some thick pink woolly socks on her feet. The girl was skin and bone, and the white hospital-issue nightdress gaped at the back. She was still hooked up to the glucose drip and now seemed even more frail and frightened. Her hair hung in limp strands around her wan face as she stared at the floor.

Anna sat beside her. 'I've asked my superior to talk to the doctor, but there is really little we can do to keep you here if they agree to your release.'

Emily said nothing. She didn't even raise her head when the door opened and a nurse came in to take her blood pressure.

'Surely she should be kept in overnight?' Anna said to the nurse, who wound Emily's left arm in the black Velcro-tipped cloth. She slipped on the gauge and pumped, watching the dial, and then let the air hiss out.

The nurse was packing away her equipment when Edward Wickenham walked in. He gave a cold glance to Anna and said, curtly, 'You have no reason to be here with my sister. I would like you to leave, please.'

Anna wanted to say something to Emily, but she remained impassive, staring at the floor. Anna hesitated and then slowly left the room.

Outside in the corridor, Langton was ending his conversation with the doctor. Anna did not interrupt but leaned against the wall. It was almost midnight, and she was tired out. Langton gestured for her to join him, as the doctor went into Emily's room.

'I have said that we will need to question Miss Wickenham regarding a very serious incident, and quite possibly make an arrest. I do not want her removed from the hospital, blah blah!'

Anna looked to the closed door. 'Thing is, with her father being a doctor, her brother's no doubt given them a load of garbage about caring for her.'

'Yeah I know, but the doc's on our side; he thinks she should stay overnight and talk to their resident shrink.'

He shut up fast as the door to Emily's room opened and Edward and the doctor came barrelling out.

'My sister will have the best care possible. This is ridiculous; I can have her home in an hour. I can have her in bed with a private nurse in attendance. Her father is a qualified doctor!'

The young doctor closed the door. 'I am sure you have every good intention, but my patient is not, in my opinion, fit to be released this evening. Added to this, Miss Wickenham does not want to be…'

Edward interrupted him, irate. 'She's seventeen years old, for God's sake! She doesn't know what is best for her!'

'Then you must take my opinion very seriously. This is not the first suicide attempt. She has also had her stomach pumped, her blood pressure is frighteningly high and she is desperately underweight. I would say her family to date have not taken care of her health, and I am not prepared to release her into your custody this evening. Tomorrow may prove to be a different matter, subject to her recovery.'

They continued to argue for some time, moving into the small waiting room, leaving Anna and Langton standing in the corridor.

'Well, he's fighting in our corner,' Langton said.

Fifteen minutes later, Langton watched Edward Wickenham walking away, very obviously angry. He didn't even go back into Emily's room. When Langton tried to thank the doctor, he got a cool response.

'Your allegation that my patient is at risk from her family is not the reason I have insisted she remain here. Whatever questions you need answered must wait until tomorrow. Emily Wickenham is a very sick young lady, and, I would say, both mentally and physically she requires treatment.'

Langton put in a call to get a female officer stationed outside Emily Wickenham's room at the hospital. By this time, it was fifteen minutes after one. Anna drove him home; both of them were tired out. As she drew up outside his flat, only ten minutes away from her own, he rested his left hand on the handle of the car door.

'You did good work today, Travis.'

'Thank you.'

He was silent for a moment. 'How's your head feel?'

'Fine; bit of a bump, but nothing to worry about.'

Her heart flipped as with his right hand he gently rubbed the back of her head. 'A right little trooper, aren't you? Well if you want to make a late morning of it, come in at twelve, rest up.'

'Thank you, but I think I should get over to talk to Emily first thing.'

'Ah yes; tell me, why were you at her flat?'

She shrugged. 'Well, I had arranged to interview her. It was on my schedule before we went off to the Hall so I had a word with Barolli — well, he had a word with me — and I said I'd talk to her on my way home.'

'Well, cut the risk-taking from now on; you should have had someone with you. I thought you would have learned that from the last time we worked together.'

'I didn't know Justine would be there.'

'That is no excuse! Emily could have had a fucking gun with her, never mind that mad cow with a riding crop: learn to get backup organised. You are not a one-man band; we work as a team, so start thinking about being a team player.'

'Like you?'

'Exactly.'

Anna raised her eyebrows at the irony but bit her tongue.

'See you in the morning.' He leaned across and kissed her cheek. The smell of him physically hurt. It only happened in movies: the moment the heroine clasps the leading man's face in both hands and instigates a deep, lustful kiss. She hadn't the bottle to do anything so crass, but after he'd slammed the car door, she wished she had.

Anna parked her car, and used the lift though her flat was only two floors up: her legs felt leaden. Letting herself in, she tossed the keys onto the side table in the hall, eased out of her coat, and then toe-heeled each shoe off, leaving a trail of discarded clothes from the hall into the bedroom.

She flopped down on the bed, arms spread wide. She was so tired she didn't even have the energy to get up and clean her teeth.

She took a deep breath and moaned. 'Oh shit.'

James Langton was back, occupying so much of her mind and heart that denying it was pointless.