Stop Dead (DI Geraldine Steel)

amiss with their relationship.

     
    She turned her attention back to Ian who was bringing her up to date with gossip about her former colleagues on the Kent constabulary. He expressed surprise when she asked about the detective chief inspector who had recently retired. He shook his head.
    ‘I’m not sure what happened to her. There was a rumour she’d gone off, travelling round the world, but then someone said they saw her in Margate. I can’t remember who it was.’
    ‘I really should get in touch with her.’
    Ian gave her a quizzical look.
    ‘I never realised the two of you were close. I thought you didn’t exactly see eye to eye?’
    Geraldine shrugged.
    ‘I wouldn’t say we were close, exactly, but –’
    The conversation drifted back to Ian’s wedding plans.

     
    ‘Oh well, I’d better be off,’ he said at last, glancing ruefully at his watch. ‘Can’t afford to upset the future missus.’
    ‘It’s good to see you, Ian. Give my best to Bev, won’t you?’
    He nodded and stood up.
    ‘Will do.’
    Seeing his sheepish grin, Geraldine suspected he wasn’t going to tell his fiancée about their meeting. Bev had resented the close relationship that had developed between him and Geraldine when they were working together. Sometimes people outside the force struggled to understand the camaraderie that grew up between officers. Like members of other emergency services, they had quickly developed an absolute trust in one another. Without it their jobs, and at times their lives, would be in danger.
    ‘See you at the wedding, then,’ she said with forced cheerfulness, and Ian groaned.

CHAPTER 3
     
    ‘T he roads won’t be busy at this time of night,’ he assured her.
    She leaned back in the passenger seat. It was a smart car, with polished wooden dashboard and leather upholstery. As they glided along dark streets she stared out of the window while he talked incessantly. She was so preoccupied, she barely noticed when they turned into a narrow alley. Tyres squealed as he slammed on his brakes beside a row of dingy lock-up garages.

     
    ‘Sod it! I’ve missed the bloody turning. I thought this didn’t look right. Too busy talking. I don’t suppose you’ve got any idea where we are?’
    She shook her head and pressed herself against the back of her seat, arms folded across her chest, heart pounding in sudden alarm.
    ‘No. Sorry.’
    ‘Well, don’t look so worried. It’s not a problem. I’ll get the sat nav out.’
    His teeth gleamed in the shadows as he grinned at her. She turned her head and saw peeling paintwork on a garage door before he flicked the headlights off. Darkness closed in on her.

     
    Leaning across to unlatch the glove compartment, he let his hand drop onto her knee. At the same time, he slapped his other hand over her mouth while his fingers crawled beneath the fabric of her skirt, clawing at her thigh.
    ‘Don’t make a sound,’ he hissed, his breath hot on her cheek.
    The man’s cheek felt rough against hers as his wet lips nuzzled her neck. She tried to reach for the door handle but terror sapped her energy, and she lay immobile. For so many years she had believed herself safe. Now he had returned and the nightmare was closing in on her once more. This time he was going to kill her. She closed her eyes and tried to block out the sour taste in her mouth, and the smell of his sweat. The hard ridges of the car seat rubbed painfully against her back.

     
    It was soon over.

     
    In the driver’s seat once more, he made a wisecrack about getting lost on his way to finding the sat nav. He threw his head back and laughed at his pathetic joke.
    ‘Right then, time to get the sat nav out. Come on,’ he added impatiently when she didn’t react, ‘I want to get home tonight.’
    Slowly she sat up, blinking in the darkness, trying not to think about what had happened. A small light came on inside the glove compartment when she opened it, and she leaned forward to reach inside. The sat nav felt impossibly light, but then her fingers closed on a stout metal torch.

     
    She was still whimpering softly when she scrambled from the car. Her ankle twisted awkwardly as she fell out onto the tarmac, scraping her knees. Without stopping to examine her injuries, she snatched her bags from the car and hobbled away, shaking with sobs. Her only thought was to get home as quickly as possible. Once out of sight of the car, she stopped and rummaged in her bag for her mirror; she looked