Chapter 5

5

Jess

It’s late and already dark by the time I leave work.

After returning from Margot’s earlier, I’d parked my Nissan in the underground car park beneath my flat and walked back to the newsroom, Jack chewing my ear all the way about how we should be staking out the Powells’ farm and that Ted was bound to be disappointed in us. Loitering is something I would have done in the past. It just doesn’t feel right under these circumstances. Now that I know it is my Heather who is the killer, I wonder if I’m too close to do this story justice. I instantly bat that idea away. It could also work to my advantage. I can’t let the opportunity pass. After everything that happened at the Tribune, I need this story.

It’s still raining as I cut across the city centre and head towards the river, the wind tugging at my umbrella. Streetlights reflect in puddles. A few regulars are heading into the Llandoger Trow pub as I pass, but as I take a right along the river it becomes quieter and darker, people falling away, not wanting to risk the journey to pubs or restaurants in the area on a Monday night in this weather. Before long I’m alone.

It’s bleaker along here at this time of year. The trees are still bare, beaten by the wind and rain, and the one boat that serves as a café in the late spring and summer is now depressingly empty. But walking alone in the dark never bothers me. And it’s built up along the Welsh Back, the riverside soon hidden behind the buildings on either side of me, although there is a lack of streetlight here and the cobbles are slick with rain.

And then I hear it.

Someone calling my name.

Jess-i-ca.

I turn around but nobody’s there. I must be imagining it. It’s the wind buffeting between the buildings, that’s all.

I quicken my pace, my grip tightening around the handle of my umbrella. I’m not far from my apartment. The other buildings along here – mostly offices, with the odd residential block thrown in – seem deserted. There aren’t even any cars driving down here. It’s only 7 p.m. Not even late.

Jess-i-ca.

I stop when I hear it again, spinning around, fury mixed with fear, but there’s no sign of anyone. I refuse to run, to show I’m unnerved. I’m tired: it’s been a long day. That’s all this is. I take the umbrella down anyway, not caring that the rain soaks my hair. I can use it as a weapon if need be. I continue walking as fast as I can without actually running.