by Eva Dolan
‘That’s got to be a fair few women,’ Billy said, reaching over to turn down the heat under the pan. ‘The garlic’s going to catch.’
‘Maybe, but I can’t think of any other way we can track her down without a name or a location. Happy to take suggestions from my senior officer if he has any, though.’
Billy pulled a face. ‘He doesn’t have any. Sorry.’
She emptied a tin of anchovies into the pan, where they fizzed and hissed, blooming that salty ocean scent into her face; the smell that always took her back to her childhood, her mother cooking this on the temperamental two-ring hob in the caravan, sending her to school the next day reeking of it.
‘You probably won’t need her anyway,’ he said. ‘I read Ziggy’s report –’
‘You actually read those reports?’ she asked, grinning.
‘Diligently. It looks like Nadia’s going to turn on Sutherland.’
‘Not the grand romance he thinks it is, hey?’
‘Her solicitor’s obviously on the right track. Give evidence against him, hope the CPS don’t prosecute.’ He picked an olive out of the jar and tossed it into his mouth. ‘What I don’t get – yes, she needed him to help her get released – but why did she go and live with him after that? She was free. She could have gone back to her old life.’
‘I don’t think she had much of a life,’ Ferreira said grimly. ‘She’s a kid, Billy. She was eighteen when she was picked up. Her mum had only been dead a few months and she was struggling to deal with it. I think Sutherland saw that she was lost and adrift and he took advantage of the fact that she didn’t have anywhere else to go.’
‘There’s always other options.’
‘You know what coercive control is, don’t you? We investigate that now, DCI Adams.’
‘But is that what you’re looking at with her?’ he asked. ‘I’m not disputing that she was in a very tough situation with limited options. But I think you might need to step back slightly and at least consider the possibility that she might be a bit tougher than you’re giving her credit for.’
‘You think she killed Ainsworth?’ Ferreira asked.
He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But I wouldn’t rule it out just because I feel sorry for her. And I do feel sorry for her, Mel. Poor fucking kid shouldn’t have had to go through any of that.’
Ferreira sloshed some wine from her glass into the pan and put the lid on.
‘This wants to simmer for a bit.’
They went out onto the balcony. It was barely large enough for a cafe table and a pair of chairs, and even though it was at the back of the block, you could still hear the traffic noise on Thorpe Road, but the view over the Mere was nice enough and it felt good to be outside for no other reason than to enjoy it.
She rolled a cigarette and lit up.
‘What about you and Ziggy?’ she asked. ‘Making progress?’
‘Mel …’
‘I know you have. Because he’s scared shitless and you’re full of yourself. Dead giveaway.’
He lit his own cigarette, scrunched down in the chair and rested his feet against the railings, like he was trying to disappear into himself.
‘We should know one way or the other tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Maybe Wednesday.’
‘What are you waiting for?’ she asked, trying to figure the timescale. ‘A DNA test?’
‘You’re talking yourself into being an accessory after the fact here.’
She took another deep drag on her roll-up, wondering if things were really so serious or if he was just trying to scare her off.
In the living room her mobile started to ring and she went in to see if it was something she could ignore.
Dani.
She wasn’t in the mood for another argument with the woman about whether Lee Walton was guilty or not and whether she’d been manipulated into giving evidence against him and whether that had ruined her life and the relationship they’d had that she thought was perfect despite the high rate of broken bones and black eyes it entailed.
Ferreira thought about diverting it to voicemail, just like Dani had done to her yesterday afternoon. But if Dani was calling, it was probably important.
‘What’s up, Dani?’
‘Nothing’s up with her,’ Lee Walton said. ‘Not now she’s back home where she belongs.’
Ferreira looked at the screen again, checking that it was definitely Dani’s mobile he was calling on.
‘And she’s very apologetic, very eager to be forgiven,’ he said, the menace thick in his voice, and Ferreira knew he wanted her to hear it, for her to understand the implications. ‘But then I don’t blame Dani. She’s not the sharpest, she’ll say anything you tell her to if you she thinks it’s the safest option.’
‘Well, you’d know, Lee.’
Billy stepped through the sliding door, a questioning look on his face.
Ferreira put her finger up to stop him as he came closer, seeing the stirring of anger in his eyes.
‘Threaten her with prison,’ Walton said. ‘Threaten to have my boy took into care – course she’s going to give you bastards whatever you want.’ He snorted. ‘But you won’t get her like that again. She’s wise to you now.’
Billy mouthed at her: ‘Speaker.’
‘That what you called to tell me?’ she asked. ‘You’ve smacked some sense into Dani?’
‘Put your boyfriend on.’
‘You know where he is if you want to speak to him,’ Ferreira said. ‘Just walk into the station any time you like.’
She could hear the agitation in Walton’s breath, could see Billy getting wound up now too, as if the men were face to face.
‘Is he there?’ Walton asked. ‘I don’t think he’s left you alone. He’s got you at his place now, hasn’t he?’
The muscles across her abdomen tensed and she turned towards the open doors, certain he was out there. Hidden in the trees, the Mere at his back. His favourite hunting ground.
‘It’s almost like he thinks you’re in danger.’
Billy gave her an urgent look and reluctantly she hit the speakerphone, holding the phone between them.
‘How’s your mum, Lee?’ Billy asked.
Ferreira blinked at him, trying to decode such a stupid, random question.
‘You want to stay away from my family,’ Walton snarled, all control gone. ‘This is harassment. I’m an innocent man and you need to fucking think of that before you start going around talking shit about me and my mum.’ He gulped the words. ‘Sending that mad bitch around my mum’s house shouting the odds, embarrassing her in front of her neighbours. That’s libel, that is. It’s slander.’
‘Wendy was in an emotional state,’ Billy said, his voice level but pleasure lighting up his face at hearing how uncomfortable Walton was. ‘Maybe your mum told you, Lee. Wendy seems to think you might have killed her Tessa.’
‘I never touched her,’ Walton barked.
‘How many times have I heard you say that?’ Billy asked, eyes fixed on the screen, boring into it like he could actually see Walton. ‘And it was always a lie. You touched Tessa alright. You followed –’
‘I’ll have your fucking job,’ Walton said, voice ragged, unrecognisable. ‘I’m telling you right now, you keep harassing me and my family over this, I’m pressing charges. I’m not having it. It’s not fair. I did my time and you need to stay out of my fucking life.’
‘No, Lee, it doesn’t work like that,’ Billy said, relishing every word. ‘We just go where the evidence points us. And it points straight to you. All of it. We’re coming for you, Lee.’
‘I’ll fucking dest—’
Billy reached out and killed the call.
But Ferreira could hear the rest of the threat like a ringing in her ears. ‘I’ll fucking destroy you.’
‘Fuck. Me. Have you ever heard him that rattled?’ Billy shoved his hands back through his hair. ‘You remember what he was like during the interviews? He barely blinked, cool as you like and lying his head off a
ll the time. We’ve got him this time, Mel. We’ve fucking got him and he knows it.’
Ferreira dropped onto the sofa, getting out of his way as he paced around the room, trying to walk off the furious energy surging through him, all the adrenaline he’d raised to throw at Lee Walton but not needed.
Numbly she wondered what Walton was doing with his excess adrenaline but there was really only one option.
He’d be throwing it into Dani’s face.
Billy had wound him up and set him loose and Dani was the one who’d suffer.
DAY EIGHT
TUESDAY AUGUST 14TH
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
The morning briefing was just beginning when DCS Riggott appeared in the doorway of the main office, hands hanging in loose fists by his sides, all the colour drained from his face. Silence fell across the room, all heads swivelling in his direction, everyone wondering who was for it. Racking their brains to see if it was them.
‘Detective Chief Inspector Adams,’ Riggott shouted.
Zigic felt the air go out of his lungs, heard Ferreira swear under her breath as Adams turned away from the conversation he was having with DI Kitson. Whatever defiance he’d pulled together across the last few days evaporated when he saw Riggott’s expression.
‘My office, right fucking now,’ Riggott snapped. He pointed at Zigic and Ferreira. ‘You two as well.’
Murray was already in there, sitting on the small leather sofa pushed against the far wall. She’d told him everything, Zigic realised. He tried to catch Adams’s eye but he wasn’t looking at anyone but Riggott, his face showing a studied blankness that Zigic doubted he’d be able to maintain for very long. They’d both been preparing for this for days but now it was actually happening, Adams looked lost, overwhelmed in the face of his mentor’s rage.
The room was full of the acrid reek of too-strong coffee, clashing with the sickly-sweet vapour residue from Rigott’s e-cigarette. The air was close and stifling.
Adams went to sit down.
‘Who told you to sit?’ Riggott said. ‘On your feet.’
He snatched the chair away and hurled it across the office into the window, which cracked but held. The chair hung there for a second or two before it clattered to the ground, ripping the blind off its fixings with an almighty crash.
‘This was all me,’ Adams said quickly. ‘They shouldn’t be here.’
‘Aye, very fucking noble,’ Riggott spat. He looked at Zigic. ‘I’d have thought you’d have had a sight more sense than to listen to this wee cunt.’
Zigic said nothing. He should have had more sense but nothing Riggott could say would change the fact that he and Adams were probably correct.
‘We were right to look again at Tessa Darby’s murder,’ Adams said, sounding like he was pulling the words up from somewhere deep and bruised. ‘The original investigation had no idea what Lee Walton is capable of, it’s understandable he wasn’t pursued.’
Riggott gave him an incredulous smile. ‘Sure, that’s very big of you, son.’
‘I’m just trying to say –’
‘That you know better than me?’ he demanded, storming over to Adams and stabbing a finger into his chest. ‘That your superior fucking coppering skills are more reliable than a confession?’
Adams’s cheeks flushed. ‘Not all confessions are reliable.’
‘You want to say that again?’ Riggott asked, swaying slightly as if shaping up to deliver a blow.
‘Neal Cooper obviously isn’t the full ticket.’ Adams said, stepping backwards, away from the blast of Riggott’s stare. When he spoke again his voice was weakened and apologetic. ‘Cooper probably believed he did it. At the time.’
‘Fucking priceless.’ Riggott slammed his palm hard against the wall next to Adams’s head. ‘I’m sure you’ve got a pair of balls down there, Billy. Get them out if you’re going to. Let’s see if they’re as big as you’re claiming.’
‘I don’t think his confession was valid.’
‘You’re still dancing around it.’ Riggott shook his head, playing up the bravado but Zigic could see how badly this had stung him and that he wanted Adams to feel it too, the pain of betrayal, was going to force him to lay it out fully and suffer through every second. ‘Say it!’
Adams cleared his throat.
‘We think Cooper felt intimidated into a confession,’ Zigic said.
Riggott dragged his eyes off Adams. ‘By who?’
‘By the process.’
‘You saying Colleen scared him?’ He waved in her direction and she curved slightly tighter in on herself.
‘We’re saying he thought he’d be found guilty and he confessed to try and get a reduced sentence,’ Adams said. ‘It happens. We all know that. People make that choice all the time. Especially people like Cooper who aren’t very smart and do whatever their solicitor advises.’
It was a small lie and Zigic hoped it was enough. This was a horrible situation and no copper ever wanted to find themselves in it. Actively trying to overturn a superior’s conviction.
Riggott stalked around the desk, kicked his own chair aside, muttering about Moira Baxter under his breath.
‘Walton’s rattled,’ Adams said, attempting to move things on. ‘The victim’s mother was best friends with his mother, okay? Word’s got back to him that we’re looking into the case again and he’s losing his shit.’
Riggott just stared at him, like he was trying to taking him apart cell by cell. The depth of contempt on his face was painful to see, and Zigic could only imagine how Adams felt, standing in the office where he’d been shaped as a copper.
‘Tessa Darby is a perfect fit for Walton’s victim profile,’ Adams said.
Riggott nodded. ‘That’s mighty compelling. I’m sure the CPS will be able to build a solid case on it. Twenty years later. With a conviction already made and a sentence served. And what about this DNA sample you stole?’ he asked. ‘Or bribed some stupid bastard to give you.’
‘I stole it,’ Adams said, too fast.
Riggott gave him a pitying look. ‘Son, I know how to get hold of a twenty-year-old DNA sample and it’s a fucking bribe. You’re a bit late protecting the stupid cunt who gave you it. Casualty number one, there.’ He jabbed his finger at Adams. ‘On you, that.’
‘We’ll have the result in the next twenty-four hours,’ Zigic said. ‘Maybe we should see how it comes back before –’
‘Before what? How much more fucking damage are you intending on doing?’
His attention was all on Zigic now and the heat of it was severe enough to send a trickle of sweat down his back.
‘If it comes back as a match for Walton, I think we need to reopen the case.’ He heard the trepidation shaking his voice.
‘Walton’s too dangerous to be out on the streets,’ Adams said. ‘Are we really going to ignore a chance to put him away for life just because it’s embarrassing admitting we made a mistake accepting Cooper’s confession?’ He took a step closer to Riggott’s desk. ‘I am sincerely sorry that we went behind your back on this, but the stakes were too high to ignore a solid opportunity to send him down again.’
Riggott rubbed his temples, skin creasing into those well-worn worry lines, dragging at the bags under his eyes. He looked old and exhausted now, not the man he was, not even the one he’d been last year. The recent forensics scandal had taken more out of him than Zigic had realised. The loss of convictions, all those countless hours slogging away on cases brought to nothing, more wearing than the PR fallout. Although he’d focused on that publicly, Zigic knew bad PR wasn’t the thing that would have kept him awake at night.
So close to retirement this would feel like one last kick in the balls to see him off.
If retirement was actually the end of the matter. There was every chance Riggott would be investigated about the confession, that he would lose his pension and the security it had promised, maybe worse than that too. Charges weren’t out of the question.
‘Alright,’ he
said finally, dragging his spine straight once again. ‘We continue on the quiet for now. But you keep me informed.’ He glared at Adams but there was no heat in it any more, the ferocity spent rather than exorcised. ‘Out. Out, now, go on.’
They started to leave.
‘Not you, Mel.’
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
Riggott pointed at the sofa and Ferreira went to sit down, feeling a stirring of anxiety. He’d never been the kind of boss to sugar-coat anything; he gave out praise and bollockings in exactly the same manner, rarely enquired after people’s spouses or kids or asked how their holidays were. She couldn’t remember having any kind of personal conversation with him during the ten years she’d served under his command.
She had never once in all that time sat on this sofa.
It was firmer than it looked. Underused, she supposed.
He sat down against the opposite arm, elbows on his knees, said, ‘Why didn’t you come to me when Walton first approached you?’
‘I can handle Walton,’ she said, but she no longer believed it. For the last few days she’d found herself reliving that moment in the garage under her building, remembering how small and weak he’d made her feel, how hard it had been to breathe when he was in her face. And every night as she tried to sleep, she’d run through the terrible possibilities of him catching her unawares. All the ways she was vulnerable and all the places she no longer felt safe. She wasn’t prepared to admit that to Riggott though, was still struggling to admit it to herself. ‘He’s just trying to scare me.’
‘You should be scared of him,’ Riggott told her, voice low and serious. ‘You know what he’s capable of.’
She gritted her teeth. ‘I know what I’m capable of too.’
‘Well, I admire your attitude but that’s the kind of thinking that gets police officers damaged.’
‘Dani’s gone back to him,’ she said. ‘He’s got no reason to hassle me any more.’