Sincerely, Yours

by Charlotte Barnes

  You’ve guessed, then. I felt like a child who’d been caught out; although it hadn’t exactly taken a genius. ‘You should have waited until there was more information available, and next time, you need to. You get that, right?’

  I sighed. ‘I do, Marcus. I absolutely get it. I am genuinely sorry. This is my first rodeo, but I should have known better than to dash off on half a story and the off-chance.’

  ‘I really hate being the mean angry boss, so let’s not make this a grovelling thing.’ His tone was softer then. ‘What do you know already?’

  ‘As much as you do, by the sounds of things. They’ve found a body.’

  He was quiet for a beat longer than I expected. I wondered whether the signal had fizzled in the ten metres I’d managed to crawl forwards. But then he asked, ‘You think it’s him, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I answered on gut feeling. The truth was, I had no evidence to suggest it was him. But I also didn’t have evidence against it either. It was the right time of year; a close enough city; Therese obviously thought there was something to it for her to have called. But none of that reasoning would hold logic, I knew. ‘Marcus, I’m running out on a chance here but when Therese called I just got caught up in the– I don’t know, in the development. Not really a development.’ For someone who made a living from words, they were all escaping me. I took a deep pull of air. ‘I got carried away.’

  ‘Yeah, you did.’ He stopped but I sensed there was more coming. ‘Sarah, I’m about to ask a question that you absolutely don’t have to answer. But as your boss, I feel entitled to at least throw it out there. You with me?’

  There was a knot in the base of my belly, creeping toward my thighs. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you in this job so you can find him?’

  Yes.

  When I’d told Madison that I wanted to move into journalism – specifically crime – she’d asked a similar question, only she’d phrased it, ‘Do you want to have an in?’ Yes was the short answer, although I hadn’t admitted it to her or anyone else. I’d pulled together a lie about wanting to be able to bring the truth of situations to the readers in a city; something about the mis-reporting around Mum’s death, and how she’d been slandered by some papers while others had ignored her altogether.

  ‘You can’t change that, darling girl,’ Madison had explained, and I’d told her that maybe – just maybe – I could at least stop it from happening again. I’d done everything I could to make crime reporting sound like a noble endeavour on my part. But Marcus had rumbled me – and in record time, too.

  Even though he’d told me I could ignore the question, I still wanted to give him a believable answer. But I couldn’t think of a lie fast enough.

  ‘Sarah, look,’ he started up again, when too many seconds had rolled by, ‘I can’t even imagine what you went through when you were a kid. I kinda know, because I’ve read your book,’ he paused for a gentle laugh, ‘but that’s as close as I’m going to get to understanding it all. So, forgive me if I’m being an arse about this and know that, if I am being, it’s unknowingly and without intention. But you can’t chase this for the rest of your life.’

  I thought back to that first letter: ‘…let this go.’

  ‘Plus, the paper’s insurance doesn’t cover recklessness.’

  It took me a second to realise he was joking. ‘Not even a little?’

  ‘I mean, recklessness like eating from Chicks at 1am on a Sunday. But other than that, my hands are kind of tied with the things I can help you out with.’

  The traffic rolled forward at a steady 10mph. I’d be in a new city within the hour. ‘I’m going to be in Coventry before too long.’

  ‘And you’re going to meet up with Therese, hear her out, and drive home.’

  It wasn’t exactly what I had planned. But I took Marcus’ meaning. ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘And you’ll be working from Coventry tomorrow, but probably not the day after.’

  I smiled. If Marcus had been standing in front of me, I would have hugged him. Workplace behaviour be damned. ‘Thank you, Marcus.’

  He laughed. ‘Don’t thank me. I might be going bloody mad. But if there’s a chance this is a lead then I understand why you’ve got to take it. Just tread carefully, would you? Don’t make a nuisance of yourself; don’t take any chances. Call me when you’re heading back to the city and we’ll go from there. Fair deal?’

  ‘More than fair.’

  ‘Okay, well, enjoy.’

  ‘Thank you, Marcus, really.’

  I disconnected the call in time to catch the last chorus of ‘Working My Way Back To You’ on the radio, and the irony wasn’t lost.

  23

  The outside of the woman’s house was a mess. There were hungry onlookers crawling along the pavement, being ushered along by police officers who looked to be equal parts frustrated and exhausted. I’d called Therese as I’d limped off the motorway, two thirds of a tank of petrol lighter thanks to the stop-start journey; I wondered whether it would be too much of a push to write it off as a work expense. It would depend on what I took home to Marcus.

  Therese had moved on from the crime scene – a nothing special house along a street of nothing special houses – and she’d set up camp outside the police station. She had suggested I meet her there, but then offered to meet me at the victim’s home. I declined both; I wanted the space to work. But I knew that I needed to give her something to thank her for the tip in the first place.

  ‘I just want to get a sense of the space, Therese, if that’s okay.’

  She half-laughed. ‘I get it, I’m not used to a chaperone either. Call me later?’

  I promised her I would. Since then I’d remained fixed outside the home where the victim had lived. Her body had already been removed, that much I’d been able to overhear. But there were officials traipsing in and out of the building every few minutes, most of them sheathed in protective plastics to avoid contaminating the scene. I thought of them pulling apart her unmentionables and peering inside; I could remember it all so well. There were hours of work ahead still.

  After Mum, I didn’t stay at the house. But Madison went back, only hours later, to get me enough personal belongings to survive a few nights. At the time she didn’t tell me how bad it was. It was only years later, when I was pulling together research for the book, she’d finally opened up about it.

  ‘It was like seeing her split open,’ she’d said, her eyes fixed hard on an innocuous space in her living room. ‘Like seeing her whole life cracked down the centre while people pulled out anything that might have been important.’ She shook away the memory, then looked at me and tried to smile. ‘They needed to know everything about her, didn’t they?’

  And now they need to know everything about her, I thought as I watched another case of belongings carted from the house by an officer. After another twenty minutes of watching from afar I called Therese back.

  She answered on the second ring. ‘Have you had enough yet?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s still in full swing here. I don’t even think they’re close to being done.’

  She let out a heavy breath and the speaker caught it. ‘What must he have done to her, the state the place must be…’ she petered out, as though suddenly remembering who she was talking to. ‘Shit, Sarah, I’m sorry. I need to think more.’

  ‘Not at all, Therese, really. Plus, if the place is a complete mess then it wasn’t him.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Because he doesn’t do anything to leave a mess.’ I flitted back to the memory of Mum’s quiet death. He hadn’t ransacked the house, only my life. ‘Listen, I was calling about the police who are here. Did you manage to get much out of them? When you were asking around earlier, I mean?’

  ‘They were being pretty tight-lipped, to be honest. That’s why I headed back here. I thought I might be able to cut them off at the source. Did you fancy your chances?’

  If the Coventry police were anything like the ones
at home then I didn’t think I stood much chance. Laing and Brooks had always been determinedly quiet when they were talking to the press on television screens or in print; it was one of the few things they’d done right by me. It took some time for the media at home to find out what my name was – and even then, it hadn’t come from the police but an ignorant know-it-all at my college who put two and two together and made money enough for a packet of fags.

  ‘I’m just hedging my bets. I’ll check in later?’

  ‘Sure. Are you heading home tonight?’

  I looked from one side of the busied pavement to the other. ‘I really don’t know.’

  ‘Dinner?’

  ‘Please. I’ll call to check in.’

  I scooted around the busy crowds to get as close to the front door as I could. There were disgruntled nudges all the way, as though I were robbing people of something special. One man even went as far to say, ‘Oi,’ but I shot him a cold enough look to stop whatever might have come next. The years since Mum had given me a thick skin to handle most madding crowds.

  When I was bumping shoulders on the frontline, I started the real digging.

  ‘Hey, do you know what’s happened here?’ I asked the woman I’d nestled next to. She was a few inches shorter than me, on account of what looked to be the beginnings of a stoop in her stature. There were wisps of grey escaping from the tight bun at the back of her head. She was wearing glasses, but she still looked me up and down with a squint before she answered. I felt as though I may have backed the wrong onlooker.

  ‘Woman died.’

  I bit back on a sigh. ‘Poor woman. Accident?’ I looked back at the house to avoid any further inspection from her. ‘Horrible, isn’t it, to go unexpectedly.’

  ‘It wasn’t an accident.’ She followed my gaze then and held a watch on the front door as she answered. ‘She was a lovely young woman. I can’t think why someone would want to go breaking in like that.’

  My stomach twisted. ‘God, it was a robbery?’

  ‘That’s what they’re saying.’ She sounded sincerely sad. ‘I’ve lived next to her all these years and we’ve never had a crossed word.’

  I felt a smile twitching and did my best to squash it. A neighbour, I realised. ‘You were close to her?’

  ‘As close as anyone is to their neighbours these days.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I called the police when I heard thrashing and banging. They tried to push me out the way, to stop me from going in, like, but I saw. I wish I hadn’t, but I saw.’

  I recognised the shock in her long stare, then. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, and I truly was. But I still had a job to do. ‘So, you saw what had happened?’

  She shook her head. ‘Nothing to write home about. I saw enough to know she’d slipped away. I don’t know who the chap was but there was a broken window out front,’ she nodded, ‘you can see that one there. And there was blood.’ She raised a hand to her mouth and pressed hard on her lips; I wondered whether she was fighting a scream – or something else that stirs with grief. ‘Don’t let on, will you?’

  When she turned I flashed her a confused look.

  She nodded behind her. ‘Not many people here even know who she was, never mind who I am. Bloody journalists are everywhere and all. I don’t want anyone questioning me. The police already said they’ll be knocking.’ A sob slipped out and she pressed against her lips again; she sucked in a lot of air before she carried on. ‘I just want to make my peace with what’s happened and see that the kids are taken care of now.’

  There had been the beginnings of guilt somewhere in the bottom of my stomach. But something else rose then. ‘I’m sorry, the kids?’

  ‘Eloise’s little ones.’

  ‘She was a mother?’

  ‘Mother of two. Bloody terrible business for them. They weren’t there,’ she added quickly, ‘they’re at nursery and school. I suspect the father’s been called. Not that he ever showed his face much.’

  ‘Poor kids.’ I set a hand on the woman’s shoulder. ‘You take good care of yourself, won’t you?’

  She locked eyes with me. ‘I will, love, I will. You look… Do I know–’

  ‘I’m not from around here.’ I started to fight my way back out of the crowd. People were as reluctant to let me go as they had been to let me in. With my arms sitting uncomfortably close to my torso, I managed to wrestle my phone from the front pocket of my jeans. I dialled Therese’s number on the walk to the car.

  ‘Still nothing,’ she answered.

  ‘I’ll make my way over to you, then, if that suits?’

  ‘You’re done there?’ She sounded surprised.

  ‘It isn’t him.’

  There was a long pause before she said, ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Witness saw blood. Well, a neighbour saw blood. She’s not an official witness yet.’

  ‘How did you– do you know what, never mind. You’ve got a nose for crime.’

  ‘And a stomach for food. Can we eat? Then I’ll head back to the city tonight.’

  ‘You’re not staying on the off-chance?’

  I unlocked the car and rested on the edge of the driver seat. ‘It isn’t him.’ There was another long pause, so I added, ‘But I’m glad I got the chance to look it over for myself, so thank you for calling. In fact, let me thank you with food.’ I forced a laugh. ‘I’ll come and meet you and we’ll go from there?’

  ‘Okay.’ She paused as though there was more. ‘Okay, sure.’ I guessed she must have re-thought whatever she’d considered saying, and had gone with a safer option instead.

  ‘Therese, I know you think I’m taking a chance in leaving. But I’m really not.’ I pulled the car door closed and wedged the fob in the ignition. ‘He doesn’t leave a blood trail, and he’s pretty good at not being heard.’

  ‘Okay.’ She sounded a little reassured at last. ‘If you’re sure.’

  After I expressed my hunger for the fourth time, we ended the call with a promise that I’d grab her from the police station and we’d go from there. It had been a long drive, and for no good reason, so I thought the least I should go home with was a full stomach. Therese would ask more questions, I guessed. But there wasn’t a doubt in me that the murderer in Cov wasn’t the man I was looking for. Although it was nothing to do with the method, really, or the time of day, or the fact that there’d been a witness. The real deal-breaker was the children.

  The only mother my man had ever killed was mine.

  24

  By the time I was leaving one city and heading back to my own, it was well outside of working hours – even for the editor of a newspaper. While I was keying in door codes and doing a once-over of my flat, I decided against calling Marcus. Instead, I reasoned he could be my first stop – after dumping my belongings – when I got to the office the following day. I had a sleepless night at home first though. There were too many thoughts – plus the occasional worry about work – and I was glad when the alarm clock chirped to interrupt my stretch of staring at the ceiling. I quickly dressed, grabbed my bags, and made my way through the blur of the city. Work felt like a haven, even though there was a stack of Post-its and scribbles precariously balanced on the edge of my desk. I’d only missed the best part of a day, but it looked as though a lot had happened. My laptop bag had hardly touched the floor when there came a tap-tap from Marcus against my door.

  ‘Have you been staring at the door?’ I joked as I pulled my laptop free.

  ‘Please.’ He trod in and took a seat in my visitor’s chair. ‘I’ve got a security feed set up for the main door. You’d be surprised at the weirdos who’ve tried to wander in here over the years. Can’t be too careful.’

  ‘And yet here I am,’ I joked again, and I wondered whether it was nerves.

  ‘I wouldn’t say you’re a weirdo, Sarah. You’re just– fixated.’

  My head snapped up. ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘Leaving half-cocked to chase a killer?’

  ‘It wasn’t him.’

 
Marcus shrugged. ‘Someone died; you still chased a killer.’

  Not my killer, I thought but didn’t say aloud because it felt too much like proving Marcus’ point.

  ‘Wait, how do you know it wasn’t him?’

  ‘Wrong method, wrong type of victim.’ I landed hard in my chair and started to flick on my electronics one by one. ‘A lot happened here while I was away, though, judging by that stack of messages?’

  He nudged them further onto the desk. ‘They’re all about the murder.’

  ‘In Coventry?’

  ‘Speculation started. One of the local news stations picked up the killing and ran it as a feature. Then,’ he gestured towards the pile, ‘the crazies started calling.’

  I grabbed the stack. ‘Has anyone been through them?’

  ‘You’re the senior reporter, so, no.’ He made it sound like this were an obvious answer. ‘I’ve told Eleanor she needs to be on duty to go through them with you, though, so you’ll have an extra hand in it all. There are names and numbers for everyone who called and got an answer. Some of them left messages on voicemails, so there might be less information from them.’

  ‘Okay. Thanks, boss.’ I clicked into my emails and started to star my way through the ones that needed to be answered soonest. But after a few seconds I noticed Marcus hadn’t moved. ‘There’s more?’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘We aren’t going to talk about Coventry?’

  I eased my hand off the computer mouse and dropped back against my chair. ‘There’s really not anything to talk about. Therese tipped me off because – well, because it’s the right time of year. She didn’t have much information when she called, but she called all the same because we’re… I don’t know, somewhere between being people who work in the same field and being friends.’ I shrugged. ‘There’s no more to it.’