Chapter 1
Lisa Swain sat tucked away, alone, buried in the far corner of a local café, Roys Rolls, nursing a steaming hot mug of black coffee with one hand, while she trawled through old case files on the table beside her open laptop with the other. She had been asked to write an article about her exemplary career in the police force, but for some unknown reason, she just couldn’t fathom the words. The white page of the word document sitting open on her laptop screen stared blankly at her, and she stared back as if willing it to write something, anything for her just to get a head start, but it was no use.
Lisa had once been a Detective Sergeant. She had excelled at her job with her super sharp instincts and relentless drive for justice. She had never been one short for words, always knowing the right thing to say, the right questions to ask, the right words to use to push those buttons. Lisa always had a calmness about her, paired with a strong, fierce, independent aura that somehow had made the criminals she’d crossed paths with over the years squirm. Her way with words never faltered. She was able to make even the smartest of perpetrators crumble in an interview room. Long gone was the ‘no comment’ responses during Detective Sergeant Swain’s interviews - no matter what the lawyers had suggested. It was as if one look into her stone cold blue piercing eyes and their whole stories came tumbling out, piercing through every façade, exposing every hidden truth, confession and vulnerability. Yet to someone she loves, they held an undeniable warmth, especially in those moments her guard drops. Her eyes hold a vulnerability of their own, revealing a softer side to only a few that have the pleasure of seeing the mask slip.
Yet despite Lisa’s way with words, here she was, asked to write an article about her career, hoping to inspire the young detectives of the next generation and sat before her, a wordless page. Sighing heavily, she shut her laptop lid closed and wrapped two hands now around the now-cooling mug of coffee as she took in the bustling atmosphere of the café around her.
Lisa had more convictions under her belt than she cared to remember now she’d given it all up, because there was one case in-particular that had made her walk away from it all. One case that haunted her every move, every dream, every waking moment. The living with it was one thing, but the relentless flashbacks and nightmares haunted her everyday. Lisa had been diagnosed with PTSD after memories of said tragic case had started interfering with her daily life almost to an intolerable amount. Lisa had been reluctant of course, to seek help. Never one to accept help from others and always one to cope on her own, or rather pretend to cope on her own, but she had done it for her daughter, for Betsy, and though the diagnosis and treatment that followed hadn’t made it all go away, it had certainly changed something and slowly, but surely, Lisa had managed to regain control of her life again. It didn’t change the fact that Lisa still suffered from flashbacks and nightmares, but they were easier to manage now, Lisa felt like she had control and that was the main thing, especially after she had spent so much time after this particular tragic case losing herself and feeling so out of control, she hadn’t known who she was anymore.
It had been a tragic case that had ended in heartbreak and loss. Her own heartbreak and loss. She shivered at the memory, feeling the weight of it pressing down on her as she closed her eyes, trying to will it away, but it was useless and she knew it. She knew she’d have to ride the waves of anxiety for the next few moments, before she was able to think clearly again.
Trying to distract herself, she took in the strong smell of coffee that floated around the room, paired with the sweet smell of cinnamon buns and other sweet and savoury delicacies. Lisa smiled warmly as a family of three walked in to the café hand-in-hand. The young girl in awe as she picked out her favourite slice of cake as her mummy and daddy placed their order at the counter. It reminded Lisa of her own daughter, Betsy, who wasn’t so young anymore, but she smiled at the memories she once had.
Lisa was such a proud parent. Betsy, her daughter, had found her calling in life, almost just as quickly as Lisa had when she’d been 18. Betsy had completed a fashion design course in college and achieved a distinction, the highest possible mark. Then going on to university to continue to study fashion design. Three years later and Betsy had graduated from university with a First Class Honours. Then tragedy hit and their lives were torn apart.
— — —
Across town, Carla Connor stood in her office, surrounded by the organised chaos that enveloped her of being a private investigator. Her office adorned a couple of whiteboards filled with mind maps and brainstormed ideas, with the rest of the walls cluttered with evidence boards, photographs and post-it note reminders from past and present cases. Carla hadn’t always felt her calling in life as a PI, but Carla had always had a desire for independence. She valued her autonomy of running her own business and making her own decisions about what kind of work she did or didn’t take on and then somehow just fell in to it. What started as a little idea in the back of her head and a make-shift office in the corner of her flat, had become something well established, more powerful and had given her that freedom and flexibility she so desperately craved, with the added bonus of spending time with her family, Ryan, who was her nephew and her assistant.
Carla’s phone buzzed as she answered animatedly. There was an older woman on the other end of the phone, crying hysterically as Carla listened to her heartbreaking story. “Listen, I understand it’s hard to believe that your husband would do something like this, but trust me, I’ve seen and heard it all and I, myself know it all too well.” Carla had tried to reason with the woman, before she took as many details as possible and told her she’d soon be in touch with her progress.
It was true. Carla really had seen and heard it all before. Not just from previous clients, but from her own piece-of-dirt-cheating-scumbag now ex-husband, Peter Barlow. Carla had spent years of her life with her childhood sweetheart, only to learn after 20 years of marriage that he’d started an affair on their wedding day, and in-fact had a whole other life and family with another woman.
Peter had used his wife, Carla’s line of work, her being a private investigator to keep up his façade, and I suppose Carla had been blinded by love, but it wasn’t until one day when she had received a call from a distressed woman needing her help that her life had been turned upside down. The woman who called, was convinced her long-term fiancée was having an affair, especially after 10 years of being engaged, he was still putting off a wedding. The woman was in tears sobbing. She explained how they shared a son, who was 10, whom she’d given birth too on the day her long-term boyfriend had proposed.
Carla had assured her as she always did that she would do her utmost to get to the bottom of the woman’s predicament, and after calming the other woman down, began to take details about the case, but as soon as she’d heard the name PeterBarlow, Carla froze. Every fibre of her being froze. She felt her throat close up and all of a sudden she couldn’t breathe. Ryan, her assistant, had just walked into her office after returning from his lunch break. He saw Carla clutching her phone, white, pale as a ghost and he knew he needed to act fast. He quickly took the phone from Carla, abruptly hanging up the call, seeing that his aunt had jotted down the woman’s number and that she could call her back, claiming a technical fault with the line or something like that. He placed the phone on her desk and guided her back to her chair. Then he placed his hands gently on her face and told her to breathe.
After a few moments, however those few moments had felt like hours to both Carla and Ryan, Carla had started to regain control. She could breathe again, she could talk again. Ryan gave her some space for a moment but as he was just about to get up, she grabbed his hand. Tight. Peter’s having an affair. She would say to him. What!! Ryan would reply back, completely aghast, trying not to let the anger spill over. And then that would be that. Carla’s marriage was to be over.
Carla had called the woman back in time, claiming the very same scenario that Ryan had suggested; a faulty line. Carla had managed to regain her composure, press forward with her professional demeanour and carry out her responsibilities as a private investigator. When it all eventually came out, Peter tried to feign innocence of course. Claim it was all a misunderstanding. But the life he’d had with the other woman couldn’t be heard of such a thing. There were too many family photos, too much other evidence and the absolute catalyst: one positive DNA test of him being a father to 10 year old Simon Barlow. Surprisingly, it was Peters life that fell apart that day. He lost his wife, Carla, his long-term girlfriend and his son. Carla never let it destroy her. She still had her life, her career and her assistant Ryan. She’d changed her name back to Connor, whom she always believed she was, and it was bittersweet for her to have that connection back with him. Carla never heard from the other woman again, nor did she Peter, but that was the way she wanted it.
— — —
In the present day, one particularly cold autumn night, Carla had been working late. Navigating tying up the loose ends of the intricacies that had been involved with her latest infidelity case when Ryan stumbled in to her office with the biggest stack of boxes she’d ever seen. Her mouth hung agape as he wheeled two loads of them into her office.
“Got an interesting one here.” Ryan mumbled as he struggled through the door, cursing his aunt for not jumping up to help him, but Carla was too stunned to speak. “This is a high-profile one. Absolutely the highest most sensitive case we have and probably will ever deal with.” Ryan continued as he placed one lot of boxes next to Carla’s desk before heading to get the others. He peered over the top of the second lot of boxes at Carla who was still rooted in her chair.
“Go on.” She insisted and Ryan had continued to share with her the details.
As Ryan finished explaining, Carla leant back in her chair. “It’s going to be a long night, are you ready?” She’d asked him as he had told her ready as he’ll ever be.
They’d both woken abruptly at 4:00AM, to the early noise of the bin men outside, their heads buried in stacks of files and papers. They’d both groaned, both sleep deprived with aching necks.
Ryan made for a light suggestion, especially as they hadn’t even made their way through one box of case files, let alone anything else. “I think we need help with this one.”
Carla cocked her eyebrow and Ryan just shrugged, a little smug. “Oh come on, Ry, you can’t be serious?” Carla knew exactly what he was getting at.
“What harm could it do?” He offered.
“She practically ghosted me. At least that’s what I think the kids call it nowadays. She obviously didn’t want to be found…especially by me, what makes you so certain she’d want me to find her now?” Carla sighed defensively.
Detective Sergeant Swain, or Lisa as she was better known to Carla behind closed doors, had always been Carla’s go-to in the police force. They’d built a formidable, professional bond over the years with them both turning to each other several times for their specialised skills and their relationship at one point, had never gone beyond that of professional. That was, until Carla found out about her husband’s infidelity, and the one person she’d turned to for help, was of course Lisa. Lisa had helped Carla to escape her marriage and also for Carla’s client to gain full custody of her son. But most of all, Lisa had been Carla’s shoulder to cry on. She’d been there for Carla throughout the entire divorce proceedings, from start to finish. There for every high, every low. Every late night phone call, every late night knock at the door. All the anger, all the hatred. Lisa had heard it, seen it and felt it. They had well and truly gone beyond their professional-only relationship with Lisa seeing Carla at all her ultimate lows. It was true though, despite all that hurting, Carla never lost herself. She always believed, still to this day, that it had been down to Lisa. Lisa had always kept her grounded.
It was only when Carla was through the worst part and out the other end that Lisa had heard the most tragic news that had blown her own life into pieces, but Lisa being Lisa, always determined not to ask for any help and knowing how she’d seen Carla at her worst possible low, she knew she couldn’t have possibly told Carla. So she kept quiet, kept her own problem locked within her chest, and supported her friend through what Lisa knew would be their last night together, as Lisa knew what she needed to do after that.
It was one cold winters night, and much to her reluctance, Lisa had found herself with Carla in the local pub, Carla wanting to take her friend out to thank her for being her rock over the last few months. Something felt different tonight though, as the air hung thickly between them. Carla had known Lisa was married, to a woman, but on this particular night, Lisa seemed different. Carla couldn’t help but see pain etched in Lisa’s face, the stray tear that had escaped Lisa’s eye the way that Carla had looked at her. Right in that moment, Carla had wanted to offer Lisa the world, the way she seemed to carry the weight of her problems all on her own. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to Carla and she had softly cupped Lisa’s cheek, wiping the stray tear away with the pad of her thumb. Lisa had leaned in to Carla’s touch, revelled in the comfort that the other woman was offering. All Lisa had wanted to do was to break down. To open up to Carla, to share with her the pain and the tragedy that had washed over her life. But she couldn’t, the words just wouldn’t pour out. In a moment of madness, they’d both felt a magnetic pull towards each other, sparks were flying but before anything happened, the softness of Carla’s voice had pulled Lisa back to reality and she’d bolted. Carla never saw or heard from Lisa again.
In the coming weeks and months that followed, Lisa didn’t answer any of Carla’s calls or texts after that night and Carla had spiralled at first. Apologising profusely if she’d overstepped, practically begging Lisa to forgive her if she’d upset her, but to Lisa it was nothing like that. She really had needed a friend like Carla, but she couldn’t bear the thought of putting someone else through the pain that she was enduring, and so in her own protective way, she’d ran. Carla had given it around a year before she’d braved setting foot in Lisa’s place of work, hoping to bump into her or at least wait for her to come back from investigating a case or attending a call out or something, only to be told Detective Sergeant Swain had taken early retirement around the time when Lisa had cut all contact with Carla. It never made any sense to Carla. Lisa had loved her job, at one point Carla had believed Lisa was even married to the job, but bigger things had played on Carla’s mind at the time of trying to find Lisa again. Something big had brought Carla back to look for her. Something terrible had happened again in her life and she really, really needed Lisa, but when all trails ran dry, that’s when Carla had given up. But she never forgot Lisa though. She never forgot the friend she almost had. She really thought that it had been the beginning of a strong friendship, an unusual friendship but a precious one.
Ever since Michelle had left for Ireland the year before Carla’s divorce, Carla had felt lost and though Michelle came back to comfort Carla following Lisa’s disappearance, Carla knew her friend had a life to return to. Michelle had tried to persuade her to come too, but Carla knew Ryan wanted to stay here in Weatherfield, and she had her business that was just continiously excelling and with Ryan’s help, she was determined more than ever to help those suffering at the hands of infidelity, among other things.
Carla was brought back to the room, after being carried away by her past thoughts. “Ryan, it’s been five years I can’t just call her up.” Carla snapped back at him, a little too strongly, fiercer than she’d wanted. “Sorry.” She quickly followed with.
“Of course you can.” He smirked.
Carla had wondered what he was getting at, what did he know that she didn’t? What Ryan failed to realise was that working and living with his aunt, had made her know him better than he knew himself at times. But what Carla failed to realise is the morning that Lisa Swain had found herself unable to write a word on the page about her impeccable career, in the local café, Ryan had been in too. He knew she was back. Though Ryan had never met Lisa in the past, he recognised her instantly from the photo that was pinned up on the refrigerator where it joined a photo of him, his mum Michelle and Carla. Ryan couldn’t believe his luck when he’d seen Lisa, and knew instantly he needed a way to get Carla to reach out. Little did he know the high-profile case would land on their doorstep so soon. Some, would call that fate.
“I don’t even know if she still has the same number.” Carla quips back, still trying to fight but her voice had softened as she was growing kinder to the idea of rekindling with Lisa again.
“Just try her.” Ryan says with ease. “What’s the worst that could happen?”