Someone Who Isn't Me Danuta Kot (best books to read .TXT) 📖

sense. All she’d done was ask Johnny Dip about Andy. It didn’t sound like much, but she felt uneasy inside, as if she had done something she knew was stupid or dangerous, but she didn’t know what it was she had done. She just knew that after that, bad things had started happening.

That thought came again, that Johnny Dip had said something important, something she should have noticed at the time, but whatever it was, it still wouldn’t come back. It wasn’t Johnny Dip who’d attacked her. The figure she’d seen at the gate hadn’t looked like him. Not tall enough, and too thin.

As she walked along the road, she replayed her talk with him in her head to distract her from the pain in her side and in her neck, but there was nothing that seemed important, just all the bullshit about Andy. He hadn’t threatened her, he’d warned her off: If I did, I wouldn’t tell you.

And now she was planning to do something that she knew was dangerous, the first chance she got, tonight, if she could. She was going back in the cellar, and she was going to take those pictures and send them to Curwen. Get the keys, go down into the cellar, open the cupboard door, open the bags, take the pictures and go. It would take her five minutes, that’s all.

It would help if she had someone to watch her back, but there was only her. She’d just have to get on with it.

Chapter 33

Sunk Island

Kay was just putting a pizza in the oven when the landline rang. She was looking forward to sitting down and eating. Fed up with convenience food and ready meals, she’d made the pizza from scratch, making her own dough, preparing a selection of fresh vegetables, a tomato sauce she made with a sofrito and tinned tomatoes, the whole thing topped with some buffalo mozzarella she’d found in a shop in Hedon. The fragrance of basil and garlic was filling the kitchen, and her glass of wine was already poured out and waiting.

As she picked up the phone, half expecting it to be Becca, she checked the time. No way was that pizza going to overcook.

It was Dev Johar. Her eyebrows went up. ‘Dev. How can I help you?’

‘Kay. I’m sorry to call you at home, but I thought you should know. There’s been an issue with Poppy.’

Kay’s heart sank, but it was no surprise. She’d been expecting this since Poppy failed to turn up for their appointment. ‘What’s happened?’

‘She got picked up earlier. She was carrying some stuff. It isn’t enough for a dealing charge, but it’s close, and because she’s on probation, it’s serious.’

Serious meant that a custodial sentence had to be on the cards, especially as Poppy hadn’t been fulfilling the conditions of her probation. If Poppy ended up in prison, it could be the end for her. Even a few weeks in jail could confirm Poppy as a lifetime addict. And it would be short lifetime at that. ‘How can I help?’

‘Poppy’s been released on conditional bail. Apparently, she left the police station around midday with someone from the salon where she works.’

‘I should have been told at once,’ Kay said. This was the second time she’d heard news about Poppy at second or third hand.

‘I’ve only just heard myself,’ Dev said. ‘One of the PCSOs I know called me.’

Why had it come from a Police Community Support Officer? Why hadn’t Poppy’s probation officer called Tania’s House? Kay could guess. Because he was undertrained and carrying a caseload that was far too big. But the news wasn’t all bad. Not entirely. Kay tried to find something to be optimistic about in the fact that Poppy was still holding down her job, and had an employer who thought enough about her to support her through this setback – and she’d left the police station with a responsible adult.

‘Where is she now?’

‘That’s what we don’t know. She isn’t answering her phone. I can’t get any of them at the house. The trouble is, I’m in still in York. Can you get over there, see if you can find out what’s going on?’

Kay was already getting her stuff together. ‘Yes. Of course. I’ll try the house first.’ Where else might Poppy hang out? She was running possible locations through her head as she packed her bag, the phone cradled against her shoulder. ‘If she’s ignoring your calls, she obviously doesn’t want to talk to us. I’ll try, but I’m not optimistic.’

‘OK. I’m heading back now, but it’ll be a while before I’m there. You can call me – I’ve got hands-free. Kay, I have a bad feeling about this.’

So did Kay. ‘I’ll set straight off.’ She put the phone down and allowed herself a moment to slump wearily. She’d been looking forward to a quiet evening – she had a book she’d been saving, a glass of wine, her pizza. Racing out in search of a troubled teenager was the last thing she wanted to do, but that was what she’d signed up for.

But before she went, she was going to try the number of the salon where Poppy worked. It was well out of hours, but there might be someone there. Poppy’s employer was obviously someone Poppy felt she could trust, so it was worth a try.

Poppy had a part-time job at Carla’s Place, a beauty parlour based in Hull. According to Xanthe’s notes, the owner had been aware of Poppy’s problems, happy for her to do some work there and get some experience towards a return to college, or a full-time job somewhere else.

And when she’d been bringing Poppy’s file up to date, she hadn’t really looked at the job – just noted that Poppy was still working there, and been impressed by what Xanthe had managed to negotiate for her. It wasn’t that late. Could Poppy be at work?

She checked the location on Google Maps.

According to the map, the salon