Chapter 29
“When are you moving out?” Elea picked up a marble paperweight from Swann’s desk and laid it back down again.
She was dressed in her suit, the casual clothes discarded for now.
The briefing had been conducted, and she had shared details of her fruitless visit to Sienna and Ant’s home.
“Your new office is down the hall, isn’t it?
” she teased as she stood by his desk. “Having trouble letting go?”
“You’re one to talk about letting go.” Swann sat back in his chair, watching her every move. He seemed to regret the comment as the smile slipped off her face. “Sorry. I meant . . .”
“No apology needed. You’re right.” Elea felt strangely upbeat as she wandered around his office, taking everything in. “But it’s a strength, not a weakness. If your boys went missing, who would you want on the case?”
“We both know the answer to that.” Swann folded his arms during the rare moment of respite.
He was always on the go, attending strategy meetings and press conferences, trying to make the allocated budget stretch, managing the number of people needed to keep the investigation moving forward.
“But it’s your inability to let go that makes me wonder,” he continued.
“Why did you walk away from Ant and Sienna so easily?”
“Ah. So that’s why you sent backup. You thought I’d kick off, didn’t you?”
Swann didn’t deny it. Elea saw herself as a competent officer with many years of experience under her belt.
She could read a situation. Knew when to use force and when to wait it out.
Must she always be babysat by those below her rank?
It was insulting to be seen as some deranged, grief-stricken woman.
Had she been a man, things would have been different.
“I’m playing the long game with those two,” Elea admitted. “Or rather, with Sienna. She knows something about Chelsea Hobbs. I could see it in her eyes.” She straightened a certificate on the wall—one of the many commendations that Swann had received.
“That may be so, but she won’t talk to you while Ant’s around. Her loyalty is to her husband.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Elea had met lots of people like Sienna in the course of her career.
Respectable young women who fell in love with “bad boys.” Addicted to the initial excitement, they gave up everything they knew—friends, family, their jobs; decisions they would come to regret.
They spiralled into violence, mistaking their partner’s intense possessiveness for love.
Elea had looked into Sienna’s history and the intelligence pack provided by DIU.
Sienna’s past episodes of violence could also be viewed as self-defence.
None of the so-called victims were innocents, but you can’t use a sledgehammer to crack a nut, in the eyes of the law.
Her use of a knife had gained her time inside.
Prison would have changed her. Made her feel like there was no way back.
Even her accent had altered to reflect her surroundings.
She was born in a village in Kent; now she spoke with a ghetto twang.
Sienna was a chameleon. Elea articulated all of this to Swann as she tried to explain.
“I bet she’s tooled up every time she goes out,” she continued.
“She has to be. Ant has pissed a lot of dealers off, encroaching on their patch. No wonder they were so jumpy when we stopped by.”
“They won’t improve things by dobbing in their mates,” Swann replied. “Unless we bring them in for another offence.”
Deals could be made, but Elea wasn’t sure this was the way forward.
Not for Sienna anyway. She had seen the look on her face.
She didn’t want to criminalise Sienna anymore.
There was a chink of good in there somewhere, buried beneath all that mistrust. Elea would never admit it, but her maternal streak was strong. “I have a plan. Leave it with me.”
“Why do I not like the sound of that?” Swann asked.
“Ei se pelaa, joka pelk?a,” Elea said softly. The one who is afraid won’t play.
“At least let me in on your games. This isn’t only about you, Elea. Any cock-ups, and it’s my neck on the line.”
“And Mitch, don’t forget him. Or don’t you care whether or not he gets fired?”
“Elea . . .”
“I’m kidding. Hei. If I was going to kick off, I would have done it at the house when Ant Thompson told us to eff off.” She looked pointedly at the clock on the wall. “Haven’t you somewhere to be?”
Swann frowned. Checked the time. Realised that she was right. “Shit. How did you—”
“I memorised your calendar. The devil is in the detail. Enjoy your meeting!”
Then he was gone, leaving her to sink into his warm leather chair.
It was a luxury that most officers weren’t granted, and she wondered if he’d bought it himself.
She input his password into his computer, and it opened up for her.
Swann had been sloppy, allowing her to watch as he typed it in.
And he called himself a detective. She took in the video he’d been watching, brought it back to the start and allowed it to play again.
Jenny Flynn. West Common. Her case clearly still haunted Swann.
Elea felt a pang of guilt as she remembered the awful accusations she’d made about his lack of commitment to Liisa’s case.
She’d accused him of giving up. Of focusing solely on the worst possible outcome.
But she was wrong. She knew Swann. He never stopped hoping.
He was just more pragmatic than her. But he was wrong, too.
She wasn’t a loose cannon. Not every action needed to be tempered with violence.
She was being honest about playing the long game.
Some things needed a slower approach. Which is why she’d slipped a note into the pages of Sienna’s Colleen Hoover book.
There was no way Ant would see it. His sort preferred to play war games and blow stuff up online.
Elea had seen the bruises on Sienna’s wrists.
The look of desperation in her eyes. She’d pre-empted what she’d needed to hear and had written it down.
A promise of Elea’s support. Of a way out of the life Sienna had found herself in.
Then she’d left her mobile number, telling Sienna to ring—day or night.
Would she search her name online, find out who she was?
Deem her trustworthy as she wasn’t a member of the English police force?
Elea could only hope so. Because if she didn’t hear back in the next twenty-four hours, she was going back—without Mitch in tow.