Читать книгу Last Request - Liz Mistry - Страница 21

Nikki stumbled to the front door and yanked it open, leaving Khalid’s father standing in her kitchen. She had a vague recollection of Sajid marching in and directing both her and Burhan into the front room. At some point he must have made tea, for she was cradling a comforting mug that smelled sugary enough to cause instant tooth decay. She took a tentative sip and looked over at the old man – Khalid’s dad. Sitting in her oversized favourite chair next to the fire, he looked to have shrunk in this short space of time and he was shivering. Sajid must have given him a fleece because Charlie’s leopard skin one was draped round his shoulders and Burhan was pinching it beneath his chin. She wanted to speak, but no words would come. What could she say? She was still trying to make sense of it. How could the bones under the Odeon car park belong to Khal? Plonking her mug on the coffee table, Nikki began plucking at the elastic band she wore round her wrist. It soothed her, calmed her, made her feel a little more in control.

Sitting beside her on the sofa, Saj angled his huge frame towards her, the slight frown across his forehead the only indication that he wanted answers from her. Nikki closed her eyes and sighed. Of course, he’d expect an explanation. Why wouldn’t he? They’d been partners for nearly three years and she’d never mentioned Khal to him. Not even once. She’d never told him she’d been married. Never told him about Charlie’s dad. Now that it appeared to be out in the open, he’d expect her to confide. But Nikki was determined to closet her emotions away. Nobody would ever know just how deep the scars from Khalid’s disappearance had gone. Few people would ever see the emotional wounds that stayed with her and she was not going to bare all to a work colleague – not even one who was a friend.

Steeling herself, she placed her cup on the stained old coffee table next to the sofa, folded one leg under her bottom and willed herself to ignore the dull ache that mangled her heart. If she stopped to analyse her feelings too closely, she’d be lost. That was something for later. Removing all emotion from her face, she gestured towards her father-in-law. ‘How did they find him?’

Sajid shrugged and settled himself more comfortably in the chair, making it dip with his weight as he moved. ‘They found Khalid’s passport in with his remains. It had his father’s contact details and the Cold Case lot contacted Mr Abadi here. He flew straight over and it was only when he mentioned you, that DS Springer realised that Khalid was your husband. Thank God she passed that onto Archie or …’

Yes, Abadi had said that earlier, hadn’t he? Nikki knew exactly how things would have panned out had Springer been the first to land on her doorstep. No doubt Springer would be en route on her broomstick. God only knew what she made of Abadi’s accusations against her. She was glad Saj had got here first. She could do with a friendly face in her camp. She risked a quick glance at her friend. The look in his eyes told Nikki that Sajid was upset that she hadn’t shared this with him. Why should I though? It’s private. When Khalid had gone off, everyone assumed he’d gone home to his family – chosen them instead of her. She hadn’t talked about Charlie’s dad to anyone outside her immediate family.

That’s why Sajid was here. That’s why Archie had been phoning her. Then, the real reason for Sajid’s presence hit her. She wasn’t being treated as a grieving widow, she was a suspect and she guessed Abadi had been only too keen to fuel that speculation. He’d already accused her, hadn’t he?

‘They’re coming for me?’

Sajid had the grace to avert his eyes as he nodded. ‘Yes, Hegley wanted to give you a heads-up, but bearing in mind Mr Abadi hasn’t left Ramallah for the past twenty years, you’re their next best suspect.’

Her phone started to ring – Charlie’s ringtone. She answered, keeping her voice low, hoping Charlie wouldn’t pick up on her distress. ‘Yep.’

As Charlie explained what had happened to Haqib, Nikki stood up and walked into the hallway, closing the door behind her. Once sure that she couldn’t be overheard, she said, ‘Charlie, wait there. I’m coming. Don’t move and don’t let that stupid little turd do owt else daft.’

She crept along the hallway. Sajid’s jacket was on top of her leather one, so, with all the dexterity of the Artful Dodger, she rummaged in his pocket and took his car keys. Her car was parked on the main street, so she hoped they’d assume she’d left in it and she’d be able to buy herself some time. Shuffling into her trainers, she grabbed her leather jacket and eased the front door open. Closing it gently behind her, she stepped outside. If they wanted to interview her about Khalid, they’d have to wait – she’d family things to deal with first. You’ve waited this long, Khal, you can wait another few hours.

Without considering the consequences of her actions, she ran down the stairs, vaulted over the neighbour’s fence to keep herself out of sight of the living-room window and headed down the path. Taking a second to remove the battery from her phone, she placed it behind a plant pot in Mrs Shah’s garden. Sajid’s Jaguar was parked a few hundred yards up the street and without hesitating she opened it and started up the engine, savouring the roar as it sprung to life … She was off, hotfooting it to Bradford Royal Infirmary. Her boss and Sajid would both be pissed off, but sometimes you just had to crack on with life. Khalid would still be dead in a few hours, but Haqib was alive and she needed to make sure the stupid little sod stayed that way.