by Carol Wyer
‘My phone number is on all the cards I put up in the university so students can contact me, which is what Fran did and as a result I had her number.’
‘She didn’t withhold the number?’
‘No, and if she had, I’d have probably asked her for it for the sole purpose of making arrangements to meet up.’
Natalie tapped the call list. ‘I see the first time she rang you was on Wednesday, October the twenty-fourth.’
‘That would have been the day she rang to ask if I could help her. We arranged to meet the following day.’
‘At the Costa?’
‘That’s right. She brought her translations with her and we went through the ones that had received fail marks. I spent well over an hour with her, going through them and helping her understand her errors. It went well and she asked if I could help her with the one she was currently tasked with. We arranged to meet that Friday but she rang the following day to change the day to Sunday.’ He pointed at a second number. ‘That was when she rang me to change the date.’
‘You saw her again on Sunday the twenty-eighth?’
‘Yes. We met at eleven at the same place.’
‘She rang the following Tuesday. Was that for more help?’
‘No, that was to say she was going home the following weekend and she’d pay me when she got back.’
‘And then all these calls?’ said Natalie, pointing at the received calls highlighted in blue from David’s phone.
‘That was me, phoning to ask when she was going to pay and getting the brush-off. At first, she claimed she was waiting for some money from her parents and then she didn’t have it. I needed the money and kept ringing her but she threatened to report me for harassment and I decided I’d have to cut my losses.’
Natalie inhaled deeply. As likely as this sounded, she had to remain impartial. ‘I’d like to know your exact movements for today.’
David stared at the ceiling and then made an unconscious gesture she recognised – he rubbed the back of his neck, a sure tell that he was hiding something. He’d performed it on occasions in the past when hiding the truth about his gambling addiction. ‘Apart from earlier, when I was here, being interviewed?’
‘Yes.’
‘I was at home.’
‘All day?’
‘All day. I have nowhere in particular to go.’ He rubbed the spot again then dropped his hand.
‘And can anyone back you up?’
‘No, Natalie, they can’t.’ His words dripped sadness and regret but she was not for swaying. With his movements before and after the interview unaccounted for, she still had to consider him a suspect.
‘We’ll need to take a DNA sample from you,’ she said.
He nodded and uttered a jaded, ‘Go ahead.’
She terminated the interview and left Murray to take the sample. Her head and gut both said David couldn’t be involved in this, but there was a question mark over his whereabouts and the tell-tale sign he was hiding something. She would have to dig deeper if she was to find out what that was, and there was only one sure way she could prove his innocence – by finding the real murderer.
A surprised Mike rang her when she was halfway up the stairs to the office. ‘I hear David’s been brought in for interview again.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Really? You think he’s behind this?’
‘He knew both the victims and can’t account for his whereabouts on Friday evening, or before 4 p.m. today when Murray collected him to bring him to the station, or after 4.50 p.m. when he left the station. I had no option but to talk to him again.’
‘But David?’
‘I know. I ought to discount him immediately but something’s changed in him and Josh said he’s been having violent outbursts and heavy drinking sessions. You see such a lot in this job and you learn not to jump to conclusions about people.’
‘True, but I find it hard to believe David would do such a thing.’
There was a heavy pause and she said, ‘We’ve been duped before by people we thought we could trust, haven’t we? If I’d seen through—’
He grasped the meaning of her words immediately. She had no need to mention her daughter’s killer, who they’d known and had confidence in. He rushed in with, ‘If you want a friendly ear, you know where I am. Don’t let this eat into you.’
‘Thanks. I’m surprisingly okay at the moment. This is an investigation like any other and David is a potential suspect like many we have had in the past. I’ll follow the facts and evidence and eventually the truth will come out. It always does.’
‘Offer’s open if you need it.’
‘And I’ll take you up on it… soon. I promise.’
She’d reached the top of the stairs, where she halted for a second until she caught sight of Lucy standing in front of the office, signalling at her. She strode towards her, hoping she had some good news, but Lucy’s face said otherwise.
‘We’ve found Hattie’s car. It’s in Samford railway station car park, but there’s no sign of her. We sent officers over to break into it. Her mobile was found switched off and in the glove box. It’s being taken to the tech team for examination. Looks like she’s caught a train.’
‘Can we find out which one?’
‘There’s a problem with that because there are no active cameras and the ticket office closed down over six months ago and was replaced by a self-service machine.’
‘What about the car park? Surely there are cameras there?’ She moved into the office, lit by ceiling lights which brightened the room considerably in sharp contrast to the blind-free windows – large black rectangles that framed the dark November sky.
‘There’s a number plate reading camera that logs each car’s registration when it enters and exits. Apart from that there’s nothing.’
‘Then we ought to be able to tell what date and time she arrived there and work out which trains were leaving around that time,’ Natalie said.
‘Only if we can get hold of the machine operators, which is what Ian’s trying to do at the moment.’
Ian looked up at the mention of his name and shook his head. ‘Can’t reach anyone. All the numbers go to an automated service and no one is available until tomorrow morning.’
Natalie cursed and chewed over the options. Getting hold of timetables and guessing where Hattie had gone wasn’t efficient policing and would result in too much speculation. They’d have to wait for the relevant information from the car park before they could begin to deduce her movements and contact trains for surveillance footage or question guards.
‘Is there any way we can find out what tickets were purchased from the ticket machine at the station?’
‘Again, we need to talk to the company that owns the machine and there’s nobody available,’ said Ian. ‘Needless to say, she might not have bought a ticket from the machine. She might have purchased it online, and if she did, the tech team will be able to tell us, but we know how stretched they are and we might not get that info until tomorrow. If she didn’t, we’ll have to try the first option.’
Natalie was inclined to agree. ‘If only we could pinpoint her movements. Why haven’t we heard back from her mobile providers yet? Have you chased them up, Ian? I’d like to know where she went before she headed to that car park. It might give us an idea of where she is.’
‘I did but I’ve run across the same problem I’ve got here – lack of staff on a Sunday and nobody could approve my request.’
‘Then we’ll have to do what the rest of the country seems to have done and call it a day. We’re flogging a dead horse here.’
Murray meandered in and sat down heavily. The chair groaned in protest. ‘What’s up?’
‘We can’t move on and make any progress tonight. It’s time to turn off the lights and go home,’ said Natalie.
‘Good. I could do with some sleep. I’m knackered,’ he replied and rubbed a hand across his five o’clock shadow.
‘Aren’t we a
ll, big man,’ said Lucy, turning off her computer and reaching for her bag. ‘Some of us haven’t slept in days.’ She clamped her mouth shut and cast a look at Natalie, who returned a smile to allay her fears.
‘Aurora keeping you awake?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I didn’t mean to—’
‘She’s a couple of months old, isn’t she? Some babies start sleeping through the night from about four months. Josh did. You might get lucky,’ said Natalie, preventing Lucy from apologising. There was no need to pussyfoot around her all the time. People had lives and children and shouldn’t feel they couldn’t talk about them because they’d trigger an emotional outburst or upset her. ‘You got any photos of her?’
Ian had packed up and left with a ‘good night’. Lucy pulled her phone out of her bag, unlocked it and handed it to Natalie. The screensaver was of a beaming Bethany holding a chubby-faced baby with large blue eyes who looked at peace with the world.
Natalie smiled at the sight, studied the dimpled cheeks for a moment before handing back the phone. ‘She’s absolutely beautiful.’
Lucy looked at the picture and replied, ‘Yes, she is. Thank you.’
‘Try and snatch some sleep before she wakes you up,’ Natalie replied.
Murray and Lucy left her alone to pack away. She ambled to the window overlooking the empty streets below. She’d taken another major step forward and been able to hold it together while looking at the picture and talking about Lucy’s baby girl, but now tears trickled over her cheeks and she struggled to compose herself. She had photos of Leigh as a baby – a happy, smiling baby. Her daughter had had a sweet nature and Natalie missed her with every fibre of her being, but she reminded herself that her other child was only a few minutes away in her flat, and she wiped her cheeks. His father may have lost direction for now, but she hadn’t, and Josh needed some normality in his life. As she turned out the lights, she thought of Fran’s mother and of Sasha, who’d be experiencing the same set of emotions as Natalie. Tomorrow, staff would be back in their offices and behind their desks, and tomorrow, she’d get the answers she needed.
Gemma,
You and I are similar. I hide behind a mask and nobody knows the real me.
You also wear a mask. One that hides your fakeness. See, Gemma, I know you’re fake. I can see right through you because we are the same. We’re not what the world sees.
You aren’t as warm-hearted as you make out, are you, Gemma? You surround yourself with people who worship the bloody ground you walk on to give yourself a sense of importance.
Your mask actually conceals an inner ugliness.
Mine hides my anger.
Everyone loves Gemma… bloody wonderful Gemma.
Fuck you, Gemma!
An Ex-Admirer
Chapter Nineteen
Monday, 19 November – Morning
Natalie woke at seven, having slept through the night. She found Josh up and mooching about the kitchen, hunting for something to eat. He lifted up the bread bin lid and shut it again.
‘Hi. Sorry I missed you last night,’ she said.
‘It’s fine. I got on with some reading for today and went to bed quite early.’ She took in his fuzzy chin and realised he’d grown up in front of her very eyes. It only seemed a month ago that he was a painfully shy teenager, embarrassed about wearing braces on his teeth. Her heart lurched with affection and love for this man/boy, in his jogging bottoms and dressing gown that was too small for him, who’d become the most stable of all three of them. She produced a clean cream bowl from the dishwasher that was yet to be emptied and opened the cupboard to reveal a box of his favourite cereal that she’d purchased for the days he wanted to overnight at the flat.
‘How’s Pippa?’ she asked.
‘Good. We went for a walk around the estate.’
Pippa’s mother managed some holiday cottages on a large country estate set close to the Peak District in Derbyshire, and Josh seemed to have found solace in spending time there among nature, and in the company of the girl, who was also taking A-levels.
‘I’ll try and get back earlier tonight. Got a bit of a heavy case on at the moment.’
The cereal tinkled against the china bowl as he poured it from the packet. ‘No probs. I have plenty to get on with.’ He doused it with milk and sat down to spoon it into his mouth.
‘I’m going to Castergate before work,’ she said. She’d made the decision some point before she’d dropped off to sleep.
‘To speak to Dad?’ he mumbled through a mouthful of chocolate-flavoured granola.
‘Yes. I wanted to check you’re quite sure you want to live here, or wherever I end up, rather than go back.’
He swallowed before answering. ‘Go back? No way. I’m deadly serious, Mum. Would you tell him I’ll meet up if he wants now and again, but I don’t want to stay in the house?’
‘I’ll speak to him. He might want to see you to talk about it.’
‘Yeah. I suppose so, but I don’t want to do it when he’s in a shit mood. I’ll ring him first and arrange a meet-up.’
‘There’s something else you need to know. We had to interview him as part of our investigation. He knew two of the victims. Has he mentioned seeing anyone to you?’
‘What, like a girlfriend?’
‘Just people he’d met recently and become friendly with.’
‘He’s barely managed to say hello to me the last three months, Mum, let alone tell me what he’s been up to.’ His spoon hovered over the bowl.
‘Did you know he’d started advertising translation services at Samford University?’
‘He didn’t tell me about that but I know he had some cards printed to put up in the local shop windows. He asked me if I could stick them up in our window at work but it’s against company policy.’ Josh had unwittingly validated part of his father’s story.
She turned on the kettle. It wasn’t going to be easy to talk to David but it had to be done. It was yet another step she had to take on this difficult new path.
‘You want a cup of tea?’
‘No, thanks. I’ll stick to orange juice. Is it okay if I grab a shower in a minute?’
‘Help yourself. I’m done in the bathroom. Do you need a lift into college?’
‘It’s sorted. One of my friends will pick me up.’
It was odd to imagine Josh’s friends old enough to drive. To her mind they were still schoolboys and yet they were all becoming young adults and discovering their independence. She tried not to think of her daughter, who would be forever young.
The morning was dark grey, as if life had been sucked from nature. Even the sea buckthorn bushes with their silver leaves and orange berries that normally filled a corner of St Mary’s churchyard in Castergate were without colour. In the ensuing weeks after her daughter had been buried here, Natalie had visited every single day and stared silently at the white headstone bearing Leigh’s name. She’d rearranged the flowers in vases and the trinkets and heart-shaped pots endlessly, fussing over them, adding to them, and all the while she’d forced herself to come to terms with the fact her daughter was buried in this cemetery, and wasn’t at home, lying on the settee, laughing uncontrollably at some comedy film, or singing in the bathroom. Leigh had filled all their lives with her presence, and coming to terms with the fact she was no longer with them was nigh on impossible. So, Natalie had visited the graveyard, sometimes twice in the same day, and brought more flowers or soft toys, and piled them up on the mound of grass until the spot overflowed and she knew she was bordering on insanity. Over the last month, she’d cut her trips down to once a week. It was better to distance herself, but there was no way she could come to Castergate and not tend her child’s grave.
She wandered along the narrow path, passing headstones that had been there for decades and were now pitted and weathered with age. The further along she walked, the newer and fresher the stones appeared to be, some in jet-black granite with gold lettering, others grey stone, or white marble. Some bo
re fresh flowers while others only had wilted stems or empty jugs or artificial posies that had faded to off-white. She could never let Leigh’s or Zoe’s graves become neglected.
Her heartbeat quickened as she approached the spot where her daughter had been laid to rest, adjacent to her best friend, Zoe, who’d been murdered with her. The freshly tied roses in water-filled gift bags that she carried, one for each of the girls, would last a couple of weeks. As she drew closer still, she spotted a familiar figure: Zoe’s mother, Rowena. Before the terrible tragedy, they’d got along well, but ever since, Rowena had kept her distance. Rowena was hunched over Zoe’s grave and hadn’t seen or heard Natalie – who was about to leave and return later – when suddenly Rowena got to her feet, turned around and looked directly at her. Natalie was fixed to the spot, not sure what to expect. Rowena’s eyes blazed and her fists clenched, then she spotted the flower gift bags in Natalie’s hands and her shoulders sagged.
‘It’s you. You’re the person who’s been bringing Zoe flowers,’ she said. When Natalie nodded, she continued with, ‘I wondered who’d been leaving the flower bags. I thought it might have been a schoolfriend. I should have known.’
‘I can never make it up to you, and if I could turn back the clock, I would in a heartbeat.’
Rowena stopped her with a slow shake of the head. ‘I don’t want this any more, Natalie. I don’t want to hate you and I don’t want to blame you. You’ve lost as much as I have. In some ways, you’ve lost far more than me. Look at you! I hardly recognised you. You look… different. I’m sorry.’