‘I’ve heard of it,’ Maggie said. ‘I’m aware of medics suffering from it, mainly those working in emergency and intensive care departments.’
Josh nodded. ‘It’s the same for detectives like Jack, who investigate horrific murders and the sexual abuse of children. Dealing with the victims, their families and witnesses can go on for months, even a year or more. No wonder it leads to mental health problems.’
‘And you think it’s causing his nightmares.’
‘I do. I also believe it’s the reason he doesn’t want to talk about it or go back to work and face investigating similar cases again. I think it’s imperative he gets counselling before he does something he will regret.’
‘He adamantly refuses to see therapy as a serious option. He thinks the man he saw was an idiot, but I think that’s just his way of deflecting.’
‘He needs to see a real specialist,’ Josh said.
‘I wish I could track down Ridley,’ Maggie sighed. ‘He was always such a mentor for Jack, but I have no idea where he is or, for that matter, the circumstances surrounding his disappearance. Something happened between them which I have never been able to get out of Jack, apart from the possibility Ridley has cancer again and is not coming back to the station.’ Maggie returned to the cooker and plated the eggs and bacon with fried bread and baked beans. As she placed it in front of Josh, he gave her an appreciative smile. ‘Where are you off to next?’ she asked.
‘Manchester, Liverpool and Leeds. I have quite a busy schedule giving talks at police stations and prisons.’ He didn’t mention that he had arranged to meet Laura first.
‘You must miss your family.’
He nodded but made no reply.
‘Is it your second marriage?’
‘It’ll be my third’.
‘Do you have other children or just the two little girls?’
‘I did... my eldest son died not long ago.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry.’
Maggie waited a moment for Josh to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he tucked into his breakfast as Maggie checked on the baby before lifting his carrycot to take him upstairs.
‘I need to give him a bath and another feed,’ she sighed.
‘He’s a lovely little boy,’ Josh said.
‘Thank you. We need to organise the christening, never mind choose the name. I thought about it last night and decided we’ll christen him after his grandfather — Charles. And keep Horatio as his middle name. This means Penny will be happy, and hopefully, it’ll perk Jack up as well. Though we’ll probably use Charlie like everyone did with his dad.’ Maggie paused at the kitchen door. By now, the baby had started to wake, so she told Josh to help himself to more coffee and that Jack would hopefully be home before he left.
Josh finished his breakfast then went into the cloakroom to freshen up. In the room he’d used to sleep in, he put on a fresh shirt and clean socks and laced up his expensive trainers. He got dressed, then double-checked he had left nothing in the room before slipping the medical box into his rucksack. He grabbed his leather jacket from the back of a chair and checked his wallet and passport were inside. He stood in the hall momentarily, listening, before quietly opening the front door and closing it behind him.
Maggie bathed and dressed Charlie, then gave him another feed before she showered and got changed. She could hear Penny and Hannah downstairs as they returned from the park. She put Charlie in his cot, rocking him gently until he fell asleep, then checked the baby monitor and went downstairs. She was surprised to find that Josh had left without waiting for Jack to get back from his run.
In the kitchen Penny was making pancakes, while Hannah jumped up and down, demanding that she toss one. Maggie smiled, leaving them to it, saying she was quickly going to check her emails. She left the baby monitor on the counter, picking up a stack of post.
In her bedroom, Maggie opened her laptop and Googled ‘Vicarious Trauma’. The symptoms included lingering feelings of anger, rage and sadness, with sufferers often experiencing guilt, shame, self-doubt, sleeplessness and nightmares. She sighed. Jack seemed to have the lot.
Each time Jack’s foot hit the pavement, it reminded him how desperately he needed a new pair of trainers. The average lifespan was around 400 miles and he had to be coming up to 600. No wonder he could feel the impact every time. He might as well be wearing plimsolls. But the air was cool, the streets were quiet, and he was beginning to get his second wind. Just as he prepared to put on a spurt, he noticed that one of his laces was undone.
‘Bloody things.’
As he knelt to retie it, this time with a double knot, he noticed a young girl, no more than eighteen, across the road waiting at a bus stop. She was glancing at her watch and pacing nervously. A horrible memory of Rodney Middleton’s voice surfaced in his mind: ‘I can always spot a runaway. Train stations. Bus stops. All trusting and grateful. Just waiting to be saved.’ Jack clenched his jaw, unconsciously twisting the shoelace round his fingers and pulling, harder and harder. He could see Middleton’s terrified face in the shiny stainless steel cell toilet, and he wished to God that he’d never stopped pulling on that shoelace until the bastard was dead. The lace snapped, and he shot back to reality just as a car slowed to a stop alongside the young girl. The driver spoke to her, and she approached his open window. Jack filled with panic and, like a runner out of the starting blocks, he charged across the road, one trainer flying off, shouting like a lunatic:
‘Hey! Hey! Stop! Step back!’
The now terrified young girl automatically did as he instructed but the driver of the car, instead of racing away, got out and faced Jack down. He was around Jack’s size, but heavier set and more muscular; still Jack stroke towards him, shoulders back and fists clenched, forcing the man to back off, hands raised in surrender. When Jack turned his attention to the young girl his body language instantly changed; he softened, relaxed and spoken gently.
‘You OK? You know him? Do you know this man?’ As Jack got close, she brought her hands up in a defensive gesture and nodded furiously.
‘Course she knows me. OK mate. I’m her brother. She knows me. Calm the fuck down. OK.’
Jack spun to the look at the driver, then back at the girl who was now trying to edge her way round Jack as though he was the threat.
‘Shit.’ Jack stepped out of her way, allowing her to run into her brother’s arms. ‘I’m sorry.’ Jack took a deep breath, rubbing his head. ‘I saw you stop... I thought... I’m sorry.’
The driver hugged his sister and guided her into the passenger seat. Then he turned to Jack with a look of both anger and pity and snorted.
‘Fucking prick.’ He got into the driver’s seat and sped off.
Jack walked back into the middle of the road and reached down for his trainer, his hands trembling with adrenalin. What the hell was he thinking! A car horn made him look up. He glared at the driver for a moment, then slipped on his trainer and trudged slowly home.
Maggie, Penny and Hannah were just about to tuck in to the pancakes with fresh fruit and honey when Jack breezed in, all smiles.
‘Pancakes,’ he said, rubbing his hands.
‘Me did them!’ Hannah said gleefully.
Maggie was taken aback by his good humour. He went and collected a plate, giving Hannah a funny pleading look.
‘Just a little, tiny bit, please?’ Jack took a huge mouthful. ‘Oh my goodness, these are the best pancakes I have ever tasted.’