Chapter 8

Grace's fingers were trembling as she read the letter, her eyes streaming with tears bouncing off the paper.

Terry got up when he heard a knock on the door and the burly PC Tate escorted by a younger officer, came in with a grin on his face. "Someone said the old tart had topped herself," he said crassly. "Where's the body?"

Terry bit his lip. "She is in the bathroom, second on the right," he replied tersely and he walked down the corridor and opened the door.

He chuckled. "Hey I bet she isn't gonna give good oral now. Boastful cow said she could suck a golf ball through a hosepipe."

Grace took a deep breath, filed the letter away in the envelope and put it in her handbag. She walked to the corridor, and with as much force as she could muster, drove her fist into the side of PC Tate's head.

"Don't you dare talk about my friend like that," she screamed, and arrowed a kick into his stomach, tears streaming down her face. "She was a good person. And because you won't find her attacker she has killed herself." Grace steadied herself on the doorway and was over the surprised police officer.

"Stop her, Dawkins," PC Tate cried out between painful yells and Terry dragged Grace away before the police could do it.

"He killed her," Grace yelled, straining at Terry's arms. "It's his fault," she shouted hysterically and he pushed her into the chair she had just come from.

Terry looked into Grace's eyes and knelt down beside her, holding her hand. "It won't bring her back, Grace. It won't bring her back."

Grace and Terry walked into Grace's bedroom. Her body had been taken to the morgue and she didn't want to leave London that night, the shock of what she had seen made her scared. She had looked in Sandy's bedroom and she had helpfully sorted out all of her belongings before she had killed herself. This made Grace cry again; the very thought that she had spent the last days of her life organising her own death.

It hit her that suddenly she would have the rest of her life without her only friend and this scared her. But her loss was more than that, she felt she should have been there for her, Sandy was her friend and she let her down when she needed her the most. Why was she out with Terry instead of consoling her?

Grace was racked with guilt and nothing Terry could say changed anything. She opened her desk drawer and burst into tears. Sitting on top of all the underwear and papers was a big pile of money: Sandy's money.

"It'll pay for a nice funeral," Terry muttered when he saw it and immediately wished he hadn't. It was a little insensitive but Grace was looking further into her drawer and not listening to what he said. A small wrapped present and card lay at the back; she removed them.

"She was twenty tomorrow," Grace said tearfully. "We were going to go the flicks before all this happened."

"What did you get her?"

"A bracelet," Grace replied staring into the space. "A silver bracelet. She loved her jewellery." Grace buried her hands in her face and howled inconsolably.

"Listen Fingers," PC Tate said menacingly pushing the guy up against the alley wall. "You do what I tell you to. That girl you raped topped herself. You just do the beating that I tell you to and get out of there. Nothing fucked up, you hear me."