Page 3 of Her Last Breath

Ignoring her, Jane left the front room, seething as she put on her boots, before adjusting her baton holster around the side of her waist, concealed under the suit jacket she wore unbuttoned. Grabbing her briefcase, Jane tried to get a hold of her emotions. Apart from her mother’s attempts to goad her, she was furious that no one had informed her about the body in the river. She was the detective inspector for crying out loud, she would make the decisions on what they should – or should not – pursue.

It was already 8.40 when Jane left the house. Great way to start her second week, she thought. She rushed to her car, a black Toyota Corolla, turning the key in the ignition, suddenly feeling the car lurch, before it sputtered and died.

Banging the steering wheel in frustration, Jane let out a howl of protest, before slamming the car door shut and ordering an Uber.

Waiting for her cab, Jane’s mind raged. A shitty start to another shitty week. Why did she ever come back?

Chapter 2

With three minutes to spare, Jane burst through the doors of Burnley Police Station. She couldn’t remember the last time she had been late for work in the Met, even when she’d crawled home at 2 a.m. after a late-night bender. Yet here, two weeks into her secondment, she was already tardy. Perhaps if she ran up the two flights of stairs to her office, she could still make it in time for the morning briefing.

‘Ma’am.’

Jane turned to the desk sergeant. He nodded at a couple she didn’t recognise, seated on chairs in the waiting area. Grief was etched into their faces, the woman crying, the man comforting her.

‘Trish and Owen Rogers,’ he continued. ‘The parents of the woman they pulled out of the river this morning.’

As he spoke, Jane’s eyes drifted to the chairs next to Trish and Owen. A boy, maybe about eight or nine, was sitting with his head bowed, his hands stuffed in the pockets of a coat that was too small for him. A much younger girl sat by his side. She was maybe four or five, swinging her legs, humming something. Clutching at a ratty old stuffed rabbit, her eyes darted from her crying grandparents to her brother, then to Jane, who held her questioning gaze.

Jane felt her heart break. She understood only too well the confusion and the forced growing up this tiny little girl would have to do.

‘Let Detective Sergeant Johnson know that I’m in the building and that I’ll brief the team when I’ve finished with Alice Rogers’ parents.’

As she walked over to them, Jane saw how broken they looked. Gently, she put a hand on Trish’s shoulder. For a moment, Trish looked confused, then she crumbled at this act of kindness. Owen held his wife’s hands, urging her to be strong.

Having introduced herself, Jane led them to an interview room, while the custody sergeant took the kids to a separate playroom.

‘Mr and Mrs Rogers, I know this is probably one of the hardest days of your life, but I need to ask you a few questions about your daughter.’

They stared at her blankly, desolate.

‘When was the last time you saw Alice?’

Trish flinched at the sound of her daughter’s name, her voice trembling as she replied.

‘Two weeks ago. The children were placed with us three months back, so she came to see them regularly, usually twice a week.’

‘They were placed with you under guidance from social services?’

‘She was a good mother,’ Trish responded fiercely.

‘I didn’t mean to imply anything else.’

‘People always do. They don’t understand that sometimes you can do everything for your child, everything you think is right, and still it isn’t enough. They’ll take paths in life you would never wish for them. As a mother, you just pick up the pieces.’

‘Is that what you were doing for her?’

‘Social services were threatening to take away the children,’ Owen intervened. Unlike his wife, whose accent was distinctly local, Owen had an accent from across the Pennines.

‘Why?’ Jane asked.

‘I’m sure you’ve seen the file,’ Owen said dolefully. ‘Our daughter had problems with drugs. Left the kids with us off and on when she needed to clear her head. Then recently there were an altercation. Police got called to an incident involving Alice.’

‘It wasn’t her fault,’ Trish added quickly.

‘She was the victim,’ Owen continued. ‘She sometimes does things I’ll never understand. Makes the worst choices. Like Liam.’

‘The boyfriend?’ Jane asked.