Page 15 of A Very Happy Easter

“Blackwood cultivates relationships with various cops—the good ones. Often a ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’ arrangement. One of my colleagues gave a cop in this area a tip about a drug operation, and the guy got a commendation out of it. He owes us several favours.”

“So what do we do now? Wait here? Go home?”

“We go and sit in the car. Hopefully, it still has wheels.”

“You really think someone might have stolen them?”

“Honestly? I think they’d need another ten minutes or so to get past the locking wheel nuts.”

“If they’re gone, I’ll buy you new ones,” I promised as a siren sounded in the distance. “Hey, that was quick.”

“Too quick.”

Heath’s phone buzzed with a message.

“A concerned citizen called 999 to report a woman’s scream on the same street—that you?” he read.

“Oh, shit.” My eyes widened. “That was me. I screamed when the boy with the knife threatened us.”

“Yeah, but the police don’t know about that. Two reports adds credence.”

Heath messaged back to say “not guilty,” and then we waited, watching from along the street, our car dark. Two officers showed up, then two more, and fifteen minutes after that, Jazzi’s husband was marched out in handcuffs. Another ten minutes passed interminably slowly before I got a call from April.

“Ohmigosh! Jazzi called back. I mean, she’s on the phone right now. Her husband beat her up pretty bad, and he got arrested.”

I put the phone on speaker so Heath could hear what was going on and tried to sound suitably shocked. “Hell, that’s awful. I mean, it’s good that he got arrested, but terrible that she’s injured. Does she need somewhere to stay?”

“There’s a space in the Hillingdon shelter. That’s far enough away from where she is now that they’re unlikely to run into each other.”

“Where is she now?”

“Chippenham.”

No, she wasn’t. “In Wiltshire?”

Vocare didn’t even cover Wiltshire, just London and the Home Counties. Our long-term goal was to expand nationwide, but we didn’t want to grow too fast and end up over-promising and under-delivering.

“Oh no, wait… Cippenham. It’s in Berkshire. There’s a police officer with her and an ambulance on the way.”

“An ambulance? It’s that bad?”

“A black eye, a split lip, severe facial bruising, possible concussion, and a suspected broken rib or two. They want to document her injuries so they can hopefully bring a prosecution even if she backs out of testifying.”

As so many women did, sadly. Their abusers ignored restraining orders and piled on the pressure, and victims grew too nervous to stand up to them.

“It’s good that they’re taking this seriously.”

“I spoke with the officer too. Jazzi’s terrified, and confused, and they’re waiting for a lady cop to go with her to the hospital.”

“Is there anything more we can do?”

“Not tonight. Maybe she’ll need a ride to the shelter tomorrow.”

“Does she have family?”

“Nobody that can help, I don’t think.”

“Let me know if the situation changes.”