‘And what do you intend to achieve? What do you want to happen after she gets the letter?’
The reply feels so self-evident I almost don’t know where to begin. ‘I expect her to listen, to help me put this all behind us, so I can move forward again and be who I used to be.’
Staring at the ceiling, he sighs.
‘What?’ I sound angrier than I am, so I lay my hand on his arm. ‘Don’t you want that too?’
‘I don’t think either of us knows who you are any more.’
It feels like a slap and I jerk my hand back. ‘Well then that’s another reason to get her to stop, tell her what she’s done so she can’t destroy another life like she’s destroyed mine.’
He doesn’t move. ‘And what do you think the police will do?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’ve written a letter to a renowned pathologist accusing her of potentially misleading the police about a case she is working on.’
I huff, then feel like a child, so I cross my legs and make myself consider what he’s said. The police are bound to be interested – if Eve tells them, that is. Maybe she won’t. Maybe she won’t want them looking into what she’s done. But isn’t that what I want? For them to know?
‘What if you go to jail?’
I snap round to face him. ‘Why would that happen? It’s just a letter.’
‘I can’t be without you. Not after everything we’ve gone through.’
I scan his face, checking for signs of tears or anger, but he’s doing what he always does – holding it together. For my sake. Always for me, never for him.
I lie next to him and wrap one leg around his. ‘I won’t go to jail.’
He turns to look at me. ‘Sometimes I think that’s what you want. That you want to be there as punishment for the guilt you feel.’
I hold his gaze. ‘I won’t go away. I promise.’ My voice sounds as sure as I feel. I will never leave this man.
We stay like that for what seems like ages, until I feel sleep poke at the corners of my eyes, and my thoughts become hazy.
‘I love you.’
He leans over and kisses me gently. ‘I love you too,’ he says, his nose close to mine. ‘Just be careful, OK?’
‘I will, I promise.’
‘Because Eve’s not going to go down without a fight.’
I feel myself starting to wake, so put my finger on his lips and close my eyes. ‘I’m not going to fight her. I just want her to help me finish it.’
But as I lie and listen to his breath deepen, I know it isn’t true. If Eve wants a fight, I’ll be there, and I’ll make sure her whole life crumbles before her while I watch and laugh.
Four
Crime analyst Carla Brown wiped the previous week’s jobs off the board and wrote the three things she knew about last night’s case: Baby Georgie – dead, Kelly-Anne Wilson – mum, Connor O’Brian – dad. She wondered, again, why Nell hadn’t arrested one or both of them. Maybe the pathologist hadn’t found anything conclusive at the scene, maybe Nell didn’t want to clog up custody without good grounds, maybe she should stop second-guessing and wait for Nell to get in.
Picking up her still-warm coffee, Carla went outside for a cigarette.
The morning sky was a clear blue, the absence of cloud suggesting the heatwave wasn’t going to break any time soon. Lining tobacco on the slim paper, Carla watched a two-seater plane come in to land at the airport across from Thames Valley North HQ. She could do without the heat. White-blonde hair and pale skin meant the sun didn’t do it for her, and zero air conditioning coupled with ineffectual office windows meant by midday the team had borderline heatstroke.
Exhaling smoke, Carla watched it drift aimlessly upwards. The side road was quiet, save for the chatter of birds congregating on the short stubby trees lining the middle, until DCI Max Bremer’s black Merc pulled off the roundabout and headed towards the back gates. Carla stubbed her roll-up into a potted plant. Bremer was new enough to the team for her still to want to make a good impression, but she also hoped he’d be able to give her the heads-up on the previous night’s job, let her get a start on it before Nell and Paul got in.
Getting out of the car, Bremer slammed the door and hung his jacket over his arm before retrieving his briefcase from the back seat.
‘Anything from Nell?’ he asked, looking back at her.
‘No, I was hoping you’d have something.’
‘Nothing as yet.’ They walked towards the entrance, Bremer pushing open the tall glass doors for Carla to step through. Grey sofa to their right, reception desk to their left.
A woman stood with her back to them, thrusting a brown envelope at an uncertain-looking receptionist, who didn’t take it. It took Carla a second to recognise her, although how she could mistake that cropped white hair and rigid posture for anyone other than Eve Graham was beyond her.
‘Eve?’
The pathologist turned to face her. ‘Carla.’ Her gravelly voice echoed through the reception area. ‘Long time no see. I hear from Gerry you’re working with DS Jackson?’
Eve’s husband, Gerry, had been Carla’s first sergeant and for the subsequent eight years had been a constant source of support and advice. Carla and her fiancé, Baz, had often found themselves at the Grahams’ dinner table, where Eve’s insistence on Scotch for dessert always necessitated swapping their car for a taxi ride home. Carla had always found Eve distant, her hosting forced, laughter fake, and the intimidation she’d felt during those evenings was no less now they were meeting on Carla’s home turf.
She nodded to the brown envelope Eve held. ‘Can I help?’
‘Oh. Yes, I suppose you can.’ She handed it to Carla. ‘It’s a letter. I get them from time to time, but I discussed it with Gerry and he persuaded me to give it to you.’ She gave a smile. ‘Ever the overprotector is our Gerry.’
Carla looked at the blank envelope, its edge neatly opened. Why would Gerry bother about a letter if Eve didn’t seem worried?
‘I said it wasn’t anything to concern ourselves with,’ Eve went on, ‘but it makes a reference to a case I’m working on, one with your DS Jackson, as it happens.’
Carla looked up, surprised. ‘Last night’s job?’
Eve nodded. ‘Hand-delivered. No fingerprints. Typed.’
‘What reference?’
Eve turned to Bremer, equal in height, she looked him in the eye. ‘And you are?’
‘DCI Max Bremer.’ He didn’t offer his hand and nor did Eve when she replied.
‘Best you look at the letter for yourself, Detective Inspector.’
‘Detective Chief Inspector.’ His tone was cold. Carla tensed, but Eve’s look told her she either hadn’t noticed or didn’t care.
Picking up her bag, Eve gave them a curt nod. ‘Anyway. Must go. These bodies don’t cut themselves up. Tell DS Jackson I’ll let her know if I’m right about the baby by midday.’
And before Carla could ask what she meant, Eve pushed open the glass doors and headed out into the blinding brightness.
They took the lift. Carla hated the small space and the proximity to her boss, but it was preferable to taking the stairs in this heat. She looked at the envelope.
‘What’s the pathologist’s story?’ asked Bremer.
Carla looked up, surprised. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well she’s not exactly socially literate, is she?’
Carla laughed. ‘I’ve heard Eve called many things but socially illiterate has to be the most apt.’
‘Not well liked then?’
‘Very well respected,’ Carla replied. ‘And I think that’s what she values more.’
Bremer nodded. ‘Fair point. It’s not a popularity contest, after all. Although if it were, my money wouldn’t be on Ms Graham winning it.’
She couldn’t disagree. Eve wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, and Carla had been surprised when Eve had mentioned receiving other letters. Why hadn’t Gerry ever mentioned it?
The lift doo
rs pinged open and Bremer led the way to the office.
‘Let me know if I need to worry about the letter,’ he said over his shoulder, ‘and shout me when Nell gets in,’ before shutting the door to his office separating himself off with a plywood wall and a window that shuddered with the slightest movement.
Carla sat at her desk, one computer in front of her, one to the left and a police database a little further up, all pumping out heat that the stand-alone fan next to her couldn’t even begin to tackle.
Pulling out the letter, she laid it on the desk, placing an old coffee cup on one edge of the pages to stop them from blowing away, pulled up her hair to allow a breeze to her neck and began to read.
Eve,
What is this, my third or fourth letter to you? By now you’ll know what I’m asking before I even write it, but I’m going to keep on writing until you listen. Years ago you saw fit to take my life and dismantle it bit by bit. You hollowed me out and discarded the pieces like scraps of food not even fit for a dog.
I know you understand what it feels like to lose a baby. To be a mother without a child. Why punish others whose experience you share? You will do it again; a mother will be ruined because of you and I can’t stand by and let that happen. Excuse yourself from the O’Brian case. Don’t harm another young mother whose baby died. Try to imagine the pain and fear she feels; imagine the cold metallic panic on your tongue as your mouth goes dry when you realise someone is about to accuse you of killing the most important person to you. The power you wield is such that one word from you can destroy a woman like her.
A courtroom trusts you. I do not.
You have caused a woman to endure years of imprisonment for a crime she did not commit. Please don’t inflict that same nightmare on Kelly-Anne Wilson.
M
Carla watched the pages flutter in the fan’s wind. She wasn’t sure what she had been expecting but it sure as hell wasn’t that.
Her analyst mind kicked into gear, starting to isolate the key points: the author knew about the O’Brian case despite it being less than twenty-four hours old; the author was someone with a knowledge of Eve’s personal life, if the reference to losing a child was to be believed; the author harboured feelings of revenge towards Eve, judging her responsible for a case of wrongful imprisonment.
All big allegations, but the only one that concerned Carla now was the reference to O’Brian. How could the author of the letter know about the death of baby Georgie when she, the analyst, and the DCI had yet to be briefed? No one knew about the baby’s death except the 999 call handler and Bremer’s team, and half of them didn’t even know Eve had been assigned the case until this morning.
The office door banged open, making her jump.
‘Jesus, man, you scared me half to death.’
Paul was carrying a cardboard holder with four takeout coffees. ‘Sorry, had to kick it open.’ He placed the holder on Carla’s desk and pulled off his jacket. ‘This weather is going to be the death of me. What is it, like 9 a.m.? And I’m sweating already.’
‘Nice.’ Carla took a coffee and two of the long white sugars perched precariously between the cups, knocking one on the edge of the table. Paul sank into his chair and wiped sweat from his forehead.
‘Where’s Nell?’ she asked.
‘Having a fag. God knows how she can in this heat, but there you go.’ He peered at the computer screen dominating the centre of Carla’s desk. ‘What you working on?’
‘Just something that’s come up with the O’Brian case.’
‘Shit. What?’ Paul sat upright but Carla held up a hand.
‘Nothing major. Just a bit of an odd link between your pathologist and Connor O’Brian.’
Paul relaxed back.
‘Why? What did you think I was going to say?’
Paul pointed at the holder and she handed him a coffee. No sugar. He ripped off the lid and blew on the black liquid. ‘Just we left O’Brian last night and it didn’t feel right. Had a mad panic you were going to say he’d gone on a murderous rampage and we’d be hauled up for a disciplinary.’ Paul took a sip and winced.
‘What’s the link to Eve?’
‘Not sure yet. Did Eve say she knew Connor?’
Paul’s look of surprise told Carla she hadn’t.
‘Did you see them together at all? See any interaction between them?’
‘Not really.’ Paul frowned at her. ‘Come on, Brown, what you got?’
‘You say “not really”, so that means you did see them together?’
He laughed. ‘I thought I was the police officer in this relationship. Eve just poked her head round the door when we were in with Connor and the girlfriend. But they didn’t interact: no eye contact, no change in atmosphere when she appeared. She didn’t like him, though. Made that clear.’
‘Did she say why?’
‘Just that he was controlling Kelly-Anne. But she doesn’t think he killed the baby. She’s got the girlfriend already banged up for that one.’
Carla emptied the second sugar into the coffee, stirring it with a pen. Interesting Eve didn’t like him. But then she guessed Eve had seen enough shit in her time to be a good judge of character. Although it was also true to say the author of the letter didn’t share that assumption.
‘And there was no one else with you and Nell at the scene, other than Eve and the parents?’
‘None. Well, except the uniform on the door and the two who’d been first to attend the scene.’
Carla discounted the two initial responders; they wouldn’t have been aware Eve was assigned the case – only the uniform on the door would have known that.
‘Did you get the uniform’s name?’
Paul shook his head. ‘No, but Cowley police station will know that. What’s all this got to do with the O’Brian case?’
Carla handed Paul the letter, now in a clear plastic envelope, and watched while he read.
He looked up at her. ‘Are they saying Eve’s fitted someone up? On another job like the O’Brian’s?’
‘Looks like it.’
Paul let out a whistle. ‘And they’re saying she’s going to do the same to Kelly-Anne? Well that makes sense. There’s no way that woman killed her kid.’
Carla had already turned her back on him. Eve had said she’d get the results to Nell by midday so that gave her a few hours to do a bit of digging on Eve’s past cases.
‘You need me to do anything?’Paul asked.
‘No thanks, I’m good.’ Then she opened the intelligence database and started to search.
Five
Eve had been involved in three high-profile infant-death cases in the previous six years, all of which resulted in the conviction of the mother. Odd that they were all the mother when statistically speaking the father should have been involved in at least one, but then Carla wasn’t an expert on sudden infant death.
She checked on the status of the three women: two remained in prison, one had been released six months previously. Well, she reasoned, that didn’t preclude the other two from writing the letter, but Carla was pretty sure the prison authorities would have intercepted it at source, seeing as it contained a barely concealed threat against the person who had put them in jail.
So that left one. Carla clicked open the file of the remaining woman. She read it through, reread it just to make sure, then sat back.
‘Shit.’
Paul looked up from his phone. ‘Got something?’
‘Come and look at this.’ She pointed at the screen as Paul joined her.
‘Eve’s put away three women. Two are still in jail, but this one –’ she looked up at him, ‘– this one was released recently.’ She saw him frown. ‘See what she was released for?’
‘Jesus. Case was overturned?’
‘Yep.’ Carla scrolled through the document. ‘Joanne Fowler, found not guilty on appeal after Eve’s evidence was thrown out.’
‘How long was she inside before the appeal?’
Carla checked
. ‘Two years.’
Paul sat on the edge of Carla’s desk. ‘Good reason for revenge, that.’
‘Sure is.’
‘Revenge?’ Nell stood in the doorway, her hair pulled up into a bun, curls fighting to escape, her vest top already peppered with damp patches. She slung her bag onto the floor and walked over to them. ‘Who wants revenge for what?’
‘Joanne Fowler.’ Carla handed her the letter. ‘Potential suspect for this.’
As Nell read, Carla walked to the wipe board and wrote Connor’s name on it, then Eve’s, and drew a line between them. Writing Joanne’s name alongside Eve’s, she drew another line and stood back. ‘If Joanne wrote the letter, what’s her link with Connor?’
‘Maybe it has nothing to do with Connor?’ Paul said. ‘Maybe it’s all about Eve, and Connor is just the catalyst.’
Nell was studying him. ‘Like a trigger? Joanne sees Eve is working on another sudden infant death case and it prompts this reaction?’ She brandished the letter in the air.
‘But that still doesn’t cover how she knew Eve was working on the case,’ Carla pointed out.
‘I like the trigger idea,’ Bremer said from his office door. ‘But I agree with Carla – to be triggered she’d have to have known, and there’s only one way for that to have happened.’
He walked to the wipe board and pointed at Joanne’s name. ‘Someone told her.’
Nell’s phone rang. ‘DS Jackson speaking.’ Holding up a hand to excuse herself, she walked to the edge of the room.
‘A leak then?’ Paul said.
‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Bremer replied, ‘but until we know I want radio silence on this one.’ He looked to Carla and she knew what was coming.
‘Not even to be discussed with Eve or her husband until we’ve ruled out a link to the O’Brian job, OK?’
Carla wanted to ask him if he’d have said that to a police officer, or whether the fact she was a civilian meant he felt the need to question her ability to keep her mouth shut, but she just nodded. Paul gave her a wink.
When I Lost You Page 3