And Then She Came Back (Detective Inspector Benedict Paige Book 1) | Paperback

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Prologue
Camden, North London, February 2023


Monday, eleven at night, and Antonio Cassese was worried – he was running late and he needed to get home as quickly as possible. He broke a red light on the high street, pressing his foot on the accelerator. Hopefully, Maria would be in bed by now, fast asleep and wouldn’t hear him come in. But what if she wasn’t? She’d demand to know why he was so late. Just a quick drink after work, he’d said. He’d be back by nine, he promised. Problem was she could spot a lie from a mile off; he’d never been able to lie to his wife; she always knew.
He took a right, taking the quieter back streets to home. Did he smell of her perfume? Maria would smell it on him. Damn, he should’ve been more careful but he’d got carried away, they both had. He was never going to get away with this; Maria was going to crush his balls once she found out.
He took a right onto Maynard Road, a tree-lined residential street with the sort of houses that Maria and he had always aspired to have. Not on their wages. It was never going to happen.
He had to slow down to allow an old man walking his dog to cross at a pedestrian crossing. The man was taking an age. ‘Hurry up, will you?’ said Antonio, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.
He sped off as soon as he could, putting his foot down. Almost home now.
A figure stepped out of nowhere. A girl, a young woman. He slammed on the brakes. Too late; he heard the sickening thud. He screamed as the car came to a screeching halt. He saw the girl on the ground via the rearview mirror. He swore. He needed to check but then in the mirror, he could see a second figure, someone running across the road. He was about to open the door and see whether the girl he hit was OK. He hesitated. The second person was a nurse, she was wearing the uniform. What to do? He had to get home but he’d hit someone. But if there was a nurse there, the girl would be OK; the nurse would look after her, do the right thing.
With his heart beating madly, Antonio gently pressed his foot on the accelerator and drew away.
He checked the mirror again and in doing so clipped his car against a parked car on the passenger side. He yanked the steering to the right. It was fine, it was fine, just a scrap. ‘Christ, bloody hell,’ he said aloud. One thing after another.
He should have stopped, he knew that, but it was already too late. He was committed now.
Five minutes later, Antonio drew up outside his house, still shaking. He just hoped the girl he hit was OK and, more importantly, he hoped Maria would be fast asleep by now.

Chapter 1: Benedict
Camden, North London, February 2023

Monday, eleven at night, Detective Inspector Benedict Paige was pleased to be driving home on what was a blustery but mild evening in late February. It’d been a long, rather tedious day of paperwork, writing reports and reading memos.
He’d finished by eight and, after a hastily consumed sandwich, joined a couple of old colleagues turned friends for a drink. He never really relished remaining sober while those around him rapidly became inebriated. But he enjoyed their company as they reminisced on old cases and old faces, colleagues long gone, retired or dead, often bitter, invariably cynical but, if asked, wouldn’t have changed a thing about their life’s trajectory.
Now, driving slowly in his rather ancient Vauxhall Corsa through the residential streets of Camden Town, he switched on the radio and hummed along to the old Elton John and Kiki Dee hit, Don’t Go Breaking My Heart. He was looking forward to getting home and seeing Sonia. Another busy day tomorrow and an important one – he was expecting his new Detective Sergeant, a woman he interviewed, transferring down from Manchester, young, keen and sharp as a pin.
He swung right onto Hatherley Avenue, a long, quiet street lined by trees. And up ahead he could see the flashing blue lights – both police and an ambulance. He considered reversing and heading down an alternative route but no, slowing down, he inched forward until a uniformed policewoman in a hi-vis jacket, standing in front of a blue and white police tape, ordered him to stop.
He stepped out of his car, buttoning up his coat.
‘You’ll need to turn around and find a different route, sir,’ said the woman.
He flashed his ID card. ‘Anything I can help with?’
‘Oh, sir, sorry, didn’t recognise you. Looks like a hit and run.’
He stepped under the tape and approached. One of the uniformed officers greeted him.
‘You alright, constable? How’s it going? Injury or…?’
‘Yes, sir. Teenage girl. Not looking too good.’
Another uniform stood guard while two paramedics were carefully lifting the groaning girl onto a stretcher. The fact she was making a noise at all was probably a good thing. It was too dark and her face too obscured by her hair to see her face, beyond the fact that she was white, but he spied a pair of white earbuds loose around her head.
‘How is she?’ he asked.
‘Not good,’ said the male paramedic, as he and his colleague lifted the stretcher.
Benedict followed them as they hurried towards the open doors of the ambulance. ‘Heavily concussed,’ said the male medic. ‘A couple of broken bones and some blood loss.’
‘We reckon the driver was going far too fast,’ said his female colleague. ‘It’s a twenty zone here. No way she was hit at twenty, not with these injuries.’ They hoisted the stretcher into the ambulance.
‘Good evening, sir,’ said another police officer, Police Constable Stevens, snapping his notebook closed. ‘Parents have been informed. They’re on the way to the hospital as we speak.’
‘St Cuthbert’s?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do we know who she is?’
‘Yes, she had the provisional on her.’ PC Stevens consulted his notes. ‘Zoe Wright, recently turned eighteen, lives three streets along. I reckon she was walking back from the Red Lion pub.’
The ambulance sped off, its siren blaring.
‘Witnesses?’
Stevens shook his head. ‘Only the guy who found her. He was keen to help but he didn’t witness the actual collision. I’ve taken a statement. Thirty-year-old walking home from his girlfriend’s further down the street.’
‘Was he the one who phoned 999?’
‘No, sir, that’s the weird thing. It seems it was Zoe herself.’
‘She was able to phone 999, in her state?’
‘That’s the thing, sir, she didn’t call 999, she texted it.’
‘She texted? Sounds implausible, surely.’
‘One would have thought so.’
Benedict paced around, focussing on the tarmac. ‘Doesn’t appear to be any skid marks or glass but we’ll double check when it’s light. I’m guessing there won’t be CCTV on a street like this.’
‘Nope, sadly not.’
‘And looking at the size of these front gardens, I doubt any door cameras will reach far enough, and that’s assuming there are any at this precise point. Still worth checking tomorrow though. Might get lucky.’
‘That was the plan, sir.’
‘Yes, of course. Well, let’s hope the driver comes forward. They have twenty-four hours to report it otherwise…’ He left the sentence hanging.
‘I know, sir.’
‘Right. Good.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘‘Follow them to the hospital, would you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
His phone pinged as he turned the ignition. ‘You home soon? x’
‘Ten minutes.’ Then, for good measure, he added, ‘Keep the bed warm!’
Sonia would smile at that!