‘Yeah,’ he lied. ‘Everything… everything’s fine. Now, come on, get back to your homework. But please don’t expect me to help with any of it because algebra was one of my least favourite subjects.’
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
The first thing Tomek noticed as soon as he entered the office the following morning was everyone’s eyes boring into him. For some reason, he was one of the last in, and so he had the luxury of dealing with the team’s judgemental and awkward stares pointed in his direction as he made his way to his desk. He could sense their thoughts too, pulverising his skull. Pity, a large dose of pity filled with an extra helping of guilt.
Tomek didn’t need it. He wasn’t in the mood for it. And he certainly wasn’t in the mood for a conversation with Victoria.
The conversation with Victoria.
But he had no choice; a minute later, she emerged from her office and called him over. Feeling like a child who’d just been pulled out of class by the headteacher, Tomek made his way towards her office, except this time there were no jeers from his classmates.
‘Morning, Tomek,’ Victoria said, holding the door open for him.
Tomek grunted a hello.
‘Please, take a seat.’
He did as he was told.
‘I know it’s first thing on a Monday, but there’s something I need to tell—’
‘I know,’ he replied. ‘Nick told me.’
‘I see,’ she said calmly. If she was disappointed and upset with the betrayal, she didn’t let on. In fact, there was a resignation in her voice that indicated she’d known Nick would be the one to break the news first. ‘And did Nick explain why?’
Tomek pursed his lips, promised himself he wouldn’t say anything, then nodded.
‘I see. And… did he mention the part about Abigail?’
Tomek tilted his head to the side. ‘Abigail?’
Sighing, Victoria rolled her eyes and muttered, ‘Of course he didn’t, the coward.’
‘What’s Abigail got to do with any of this?’
‘She called up the other day,’ Victoria explained, ‘and spoke to Martin. She asked him for details on the case and, in what can only be described as a state of mild fucking panic, he gave her some information.’
‘Martin did?’
Victoria raised a hand to placate him. ‘Don’t worry. It’s being dealt with. I’m handling it.’
He clenched his fist on his knee, digging his nails into his thigh. ‘What did he tell her?’
‘The information about the angel wings and the location of where Angelica Whitaker’s body was found. Also that she was taken a few minutes after being dropped off at home.’
‘That much?’
‘I’m afraid so. And…’ She inhaled sharply. ‘He may have also let slip that she’s… how shall I say? That she’s had a lot of sexual partners in the past.’
‘Brilliant.’
‘A few of the comments on the Southend Echo’s social media posts have been disappointing, to say the least.’
‘Middle-aged rape sympathisers saying that she deserved it somehow?’
She lowered her gaze. ‘I’m afraid so.’
Tomek let out a long, deep breath. ‘When did this happen?’
‘Saturday,’ she answered.
After The Nights of Eden. After the argument.
‘And Martin?’
She huffed, shaking her head. ‘Like I said, I’m dealing with it.’
And that was that on the matter. There was nothing more that he could do. Nothing more to add. Abigail, the spiteful bitch, had circumvented him, gone behind his back, and preyed on a clearly inept and inexperienced DC who had nothing to do with the investigation and had told her everything he’d overheard and everything she wanted to know. That calculated, conniving…
Victoria clapped her hands, pulling him from his reverie. ‘As Nick explained, I’ll be overseeing everything from now on, so you’ll be reporting to me. Much the same as you have been since I joined, it’s just, now—’
‘I’m back to my former job title.’
‘Pretty much.’
Tomek left the room in a huff and headed straight towards the small kitchen area at the back of the office. There, he made for the coffee machine. As the machine whirred into life, he rested against the countertop, staring into the plughole of the sink nearby. A second later, his phone began vibrating.
A part of him hoped it would be Abigail so he could launch a verbal assault on her and officially end their relationship for having reduced his involvement in Operation Butterfly. A part of him wanted to fly off the handle at her and let her have it. But, disappointingly, it wasn’t her. It was a number he didn’t recognise.
