Fallen Angel Read Free Page A

somewhat guilty as she caught her mother’s eye. ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ Stacey asked.
    Sophie scuffed her way to the door before replying, ‘My room.’
    ‘What about the rest of your dinner?’
    ‘Not hungry,’ Sophie called back, already slamming the door to her bedroom.
    The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on Stacey. She was a detective inspector within the Met’s murder squad whose work involved tracking down and capturing some of London’s most dangerous criminals. She could square up to a drug-crazed killer any day of the week. So why couldn’t she get a twelve-year-old kid – her own daughter no less – to do what she wanted?
    As these thoughts ran through her head, her mother made her way upstairs to see Sophie, while her father manoeuvred his way uncomfortably around the kitchen until he was beside her. Something about his bulky wheelchairalways made whatever room he was in seem smaller than it actually was. She always noticed the look of desperate concentration on his face as he tried to propel himself to wherever he wanted to be; she had to fight the urge to rush over and help him. That would never do. He hated not being able to do things for himself and was stubborn in his insistence on maintaining what independence he had.
    As he drew the wheelchair alongside Stacey, the familiar fragrance of his cheap aftershave reached her nose. Ever since he had been confined to the wheelchair, he had taken the same care in his presentation as he had beforehand; he couldn’t afford much, but, as he always said, when you lose your dignity, you lose your self-respect. And if he lost his respect, it would be the end of him. ‘Watch how you talk to your mum,’ he said softly. ‘She’s only trying to help.’
    ‘I know, Dad. I’m sorry. It’s just Sophie. She’s like this all the time at the moment. I wish she could be a bit …’ She struggled to find the word. ‘Nicer,’ she said, her voice barely masking her frustration.
    ‘Like mother, like daughter,’ he observed pointedly. ‘Don’t forget that when you were her age, you gave us just as much back-chat, if not more. Your mother and me thought you’d be spending your fifteenth birthday in borstal.’
    Stacey smiled, even though she knew her dad wasn’t joking. A silence fell between them again. ‘Are you coming back to stay the night after the show?’
    ‘No, love. We’ll go home. I didn’t bring my pills. Anyway, it’ll be good for you and Sophie to spend some time together.’
    ‘I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.’
    ‘You’d be surprised,’ her father said, ignoring Stacey’s sarcasm. ‘You’ve hardly seen her for the last three weeks. She misses you. And I expect she’s nervous. It’s a big night for her.’
    ‘Well, she’s got a funny way of showing it …’ she started to say, before being checked by her father’s disapproving glance. ‘All right, Dad,’ she said with uncharacteristic humility. ‘I’ll go and see how she is.’
    As her father moved aside to let Stacey through, they were distracted by a low buzzing sound. Stacey reached for the mobile on the kitchen worktop, flipped open the phone and answered it. ‘DI Collins,’ she said firmly.
    She listened for a few moments. ‘I can’t. It’s my daughter’s gala concert tonight – surely there must be someone else?’ She continued to listen. ‘Okay,’ she said in a resigned voice, ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’ She turned to her father. ‘I’m sorry, Dad, I have to go.’
    John just sighed as Stacey knelt down to him. ‘Please’ – she placed her hand on his arm – ‘please explain this for me – she’ll take it better from you than from me. I’ll try to get to the concert as quickly as I can.’ Stacey got up and kissed her father on the head.
    ‘Go and do what you have to do.’
    ‘I love you, Dad.’
    ‘I love you too, darling.’

3
    The young PC in his fluorescent yellow waistcoat stood beside the tape marking the