‘Your warrant card, please.’ He held his hand out. ‘You’re suspended from the office of detective constable while we investigate this leak.’
She flung her warrant card onto his desk, barely able to control her anger. ‘I didn’t leak this.’
‘I don’t want to hear it.’ He took her warrant card and dropped it into a drawer, slamming it shut.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. There was no coming back this time.
‘The DPS will be in touch. They’re already pulling your phone records so don’t bother deleting anything. And your login details won’t work on our systems now. I’ll call someone to escort you off the premises.’
He picked up the receiver. She couldn’t have them walk her out like a criminal.
‘Don’t bother, I’m leaving.’ She charged out of his office, leaving his door wide open.
‘You’re to wait here.’ Winter shouted after her.
She ignored him and managed to keep it together until she reached the toilets. Luckily, she hadn’t passed a single officer as she rushed through the long winding corridors. She was grateful for that. She locked herself inside a cubicle and sat down, wrapping her arms around herself, rocking back and forth. The police force was everything to her. Her old friends, her work, her dreams. There was nothing else.
She had to calm down. Someone had leaked the information, not caring that she would be the collateral damage. The obvious suspects were Kowalski or Winter. Only they knew about the body in the Thames and that Talbot had been arrested. Though news travelled fast in a police station. And all the communications flowed through the control room. It might not be them at all. Please don’t let it be Kowalski.
She stayed there for a few minutes, trying to steady her breathing. This was no time for crying. She had to find the leak, solve the case. She splashed some cold water onto her face to try to take down the puffiness, cleaned away the mascara from under her eyes, then checked herself in the mirror. Her stomach became a tight knot as she failed to calm her rage. It was time to talk to Kowalski.
*
‘This is it.’ Kowalski was sitting at his desk, the smell of fat and grease around him. ‘I got you a Big Mac from next door.’ He motioned at the brown McDonald’s bag next to him as he finished off his fries.
He barely looked at her as she walked up to him, trying to keep her breathing steady, her anger controlled. The rest of the CID office was deserted at this late hour.
‘The techies have pinpointed within one hundred metres the location of where the threatening texts were sent from.’ He was pointing at the computer screen with a fry.
She leaned over, trying to get a glimpse despite herself. ‘Where?’
‘The phone was cell-sited on the Bricklayers Arms Roundabout mast.’ He shifted over to let her see. ‘Talbot’s flat is right in the centre of the one-hundred-metre perimeter. We’ve got her.’
There it was. Loxton couldn’t believe it. ‘How could she be that stupid?’
‘I know.’ Kowalski hit the print button.‘But that should be enough to charge her. Whether it would stand up in court is another matter.’
‘Charging her isn’t going to help us find Rowthorn,’ Loxton said. ‘We should get that surveillance team behind her.’ But, of course, it wasn’t ‘we’ anymore.
Kowalski nodded in agreement before looking her up and down for a moment. ‘I guess it didn’t go well with Winter? He’ll have to go for it now, though.’ He stood up and grabbed the printout. ‘Cheer up. You were right. Now, let’s go and convince him together and you can tell me you told me so later.’
‘Let’s not see Winter. He’s already said no to surveillance. We can follow her ourselves.’ What the hell was she doing?
‘This is compelling evidence, Loxton. Winter needs to see this now. The surveillance team was your idea. Winter will change his mind when he sees this.’ Kowalski’s brow had furrowed.
She wasn’t going to be able to convince him. She sank back into the chair. ‘I’ve been suspended.’
‘What?’ Kowalski sat down next to her, his face filled with concern. ‘Why?’
He looked shocked. She’d been with him the whole time when they’d dealt with the body in the Thames; he couldn’t have had a chance to give Saunders a tip-off about it. It had to be Winter or someone else who’d told Alec Saunders. She couldn’t believe Winter would have done it – he was the DCI.
‘Call custody first. Make sure Talbot’s not released.’
Kowalski nodded, looking at her like she’d gone mad. He picked up the phone and dialled. ‘Can you make sure Talbot’s bedded-down? We’ve got extra evidence we’ll need to re-interview her about in the morning.’ Kowalski’s face greyed. ‘What the fuck? . . . On whose authority?’
‘What’s happened?’ But she already knew.
‘Winter has given her bail. She’s already gone. I can’t believe it.’
‘You’re joking.’ Sickness swept over her. He must have called custody straight after she’d left his office. He’d dismissed everything she’d said, too busy worrying about the political fallout if Talbot was still in custody when that story hit the morning papers. It made it less likely that he was the one leaking the information to Alec.
‘I need to get out of here before Winter’s henchmen catch up with me. Can I tell you on the way to Talbot’s house?’
‘Talbot has gone, Loxton. We haven’t got the authority to follow her. It would be criminal.’ Kowalski frowned at her. ‘You need to tell me what’s going on.’
‘It’s Alec Saunders. He knows Talbot’s been arrested and the story’s being printed tomorrow. Someone is leaking information to him.’
‘And Winter thinks it’s you?’
She nodded, trying to hold the tears back.
‘Shit.’ Kowalski shook his head. ‘We should have just told him about Saunders when that weasel first spoke to us.’ Kowalski’s mobile started ringing. ‘Winter,’ he said, looking at the screen.
‘You should answer.’ She wasn’t going to drag anyone else down with her.
‘I have a good idea what it’ll be about.’ Kowalski leaned towards her, resting his elbows on the table. He was an intimidating sight. His bulk alone would make anyone think twice about pissing him off. ‘Did you leak this story to Saunders?’
Anger rose in her chest. ‘I can’t believe you’re asking me that.’ She knew he would never believe her. Why should he? He’d known her for all of two weeks.
‘Okay, so who is the leak?’ Kowalski said.
‘That’s the question.’ She stared at him for a moment too long as she racked her brains trying to figure out if it was him.
‘Innocent.’ He placed his hand over his heart. ‘We’re a team. I would never do that to you. Not to anyone.’
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘My trust in men has taken a bit of a hit recently.’
‘Saunders did a real number on you.’ He shook his head. ‘Fucking prick.’
She shrugged. ‘Doesn’t matter what he is. I’m off the case.’
‘Yes, you are,’ he said.
They sat for a moment in silence, letting the weight of her suspension settle in.
‘Do you know I’m a trained boxer?’ Kowalski asked.
She ran her eyes over his physique despite herself. ‘Are you going to knock Alec Saunders out for me?’ She smiled to show that she was joking, but the idea was appealing.
‘My father taught me to box. Everyone thinks boxing’s about landing that sucker punch. The knock-out. But most fights don’t end that way. Most are a hard slog until there’s one man who comes out a little on top. Boxing is all about being able to roll with the punches and learning how to get back up. Even when you’ve got nothing left.’
She was silent, wondering where he was going with this.
‘Alana, don’t stay down. Get back up. Don’t let them beat you.’
Her face felt hot. ‘I need to find out who’s leaking the information to Saunders, prove I’m innocent.’
&nbs
p; ‘And we need to find Rowthorn,’ he said.
She met Kowalski’s eye for a moment. ‘We?’
‘You don’t strike me as the type who gives up on a case at the first wall she hits, however big it is. If you find anything out, just let me know, and likewise I’ll do my best to keep you in the loop. And be careful.’
‘I will,’ she said. At least she had Kowalski in her corner. He reached over and gave her a hug. With it came a rush of relief; someone believed her.
Kowalski’s mobile rang again. He pulled away from her and answered. He frowned in confusion. ‘Are you sure? . . . Of course, sir. I’ll come to your office straight away.’
‘My suspension?’ she asked, as Kowalski put his mobile in his pocket.
‘Not just that. Talbot’s been bailed because the blood in Steele’s flat wasn’t his. The forensic report has just come back. It was Rowthorn’s blood all along. Steele lied in interview. Looks like we’ve got our man.’ His eyes were bright as he said the words in a rush.
‘What about Jonathan Cane?’
‘We haven’t had the post-mortem results yet and Talbot denied it was her in the CCTV. We need something concrete. DNA or her mobile placing her there. That will take a while.’
She nodded, pleased at the progress, but it was bittersweet as she watched Kowalski head towards Winter’s office without her.
Chapter 37
Julia Talbot
Friday
I’d rushed out of the police station not daring to look back. I couldn’t believe it; they’d let me out. The outside air was chilly and I breathed it in gratefully. I wrapped my coat tighter around me and noticed that the sky was darkening; evening was setting in.
The police still had my phone and I felt stranded. I couldn’t even call Lucy, not knowing her number.
I struggled through the throng of people trudging home late from work or the pub. Most heads were down, barely looking at me. Others were laughing together and chatting loudly, recalling who had drunk too much and what gossip they’d picked up.
I quickened my pace as I scuttled to Kennington tube entrance. I threw furtive glances behind me, but all the faces swarmed into one. There was a middle-aged businessman jostling past me, another late one at the office. A twenty-something girl with blonde hair, her high heels swapped for trainers as she staggered precariously after one too many cocktails. All of them looking forward to getting back to their homes.
And how long would I have in mine? The detectives seemed convinced I was guilty. It was only a matter of time before Loxton charged me for Mark’s disappearance and Jonny’s death. All she had to do was check my mobile history.
Instead of getting off the Northern Line at Borough, I stayed on. I wasn’t heading home. I needed to find out who Mark had been having an affair with and the best place to start was near his work. I might discover what he’d been doing for the past couple of months. How he’d got into this mess.
I swapped carriages along the way, but no one seemed to be following me. I got onto the Jubilee Line to Canary Wharf and popped into the nearest Boots and bought some dry shampoo, heavy foundation, lip gloss, chewing gum and body spray. I used the last of the cash from my purse to buy them and then darted into a pub’s toilets, the bartenders too busy to notice me.
I tried in vain to cover up the bruise where Jonny had hit me, but it was still visible, even with the dark-tinted foundation. After a rushed job trying to make the rest of me look less of a wreck, I headed to Gaucho on Canary Riverside. I remembered fishing Gaucho receipts from Mark’s trouser pockets before I’d slung them in the washing machine. He’d taken me there once when we first started going out. It had been a perfect evening, great food and rich red wine. He’d made me laugh so much other diners had turned to look at us.
A chic waitress wearing a black shirt, trousers and heels showed me to a table, but I didn’t sit down.
‘Excuse me, this is a bit awkward, but I’m not here to eat.’ I beckoned her closer.‘I’m a private detective. I’m trying to find this man.’ I rummaged through my handbag and held out the photograph of Mark that I kept in my purse.
She nodded slightly, her face clouding over, but she didn’t take the picture. ‘Are you another journalist?’
‘No . . . no, I’m not.’ I put the photograph on the table facing her.‘My client is his brother. This man’s gone missing. The police are winding down the case, but you can understand that my client is still desperate to find him.’
‘A private detective?’ The waitress looked me up and down, her eyes lingering on my bruise. She wasn’t buying it. I could always tell when I was losing someone.
‘I used to work for the police, but the pay wasn’t that great. I earn a lot more doing this.’ I motioned at Mark’s photograph. I tried to emulate Loxton’s posture, standing taller. ‘Of course, it can get heated.’ I touched my bruise and her eyes widened. ‘What’s your name?’ she asked.
‘Sarah Jones.’ I tried to keep my face neutral but even I wasn’t convinced by the bland name.
‘Have you got a card?’
‘I don’t carry cards. I’m normally chasing cheating spouses, which requires an element of discretion.’ I tapped my nose.
The waitress leaned towards me, as if we were conspirators. ‘I bet that’s interesting.’
‘It really is. And so far, every cheating spouse case has proved right. It goes to show that people’s instincts are usually right when it comes to this sort of thing.’
‘People can be bastards.’ She shook her head.
‘They certainly can.’ I tapped Mark’s photograph, drawing her eyes to it. ‘Have you seen him?’
‘Yeah . . . he used to come in for lunch a lot. Him and his girlfriend. But I haven’t seen him for over a week. Not since they said that he disappeared on the news. I’ve been keeping a lookout, too.’
This ‘girlfriend’ must be the woman he was having the affair with. I’d only been here once, a few years back. It made it real. I tried to keep it together, to stop the hurt from showing in my voice. ‘His family and fiancée are distraught,’ I said. ‘I’m going back to all the places he frequented, trying to see if anything’s been missed by the police. Can you describe this woman to me?’
‘You don’t think he was having an affair, do you?’ The waitress twisted at her apron and leaned in, eager for news.
‘In this line of work, nothing surprises me. What did this woman look like?’
‘She’s pretty. Auburn hair. Pale. She must work nearby. They used to come in at lunchtime mostly.’
It was as if someone had punched me in the gut. Everything was knocked out of me. I only knew one girl with auburn hair. ‘Yes . . . yes,’ I managed. ‘I think his fiancée does work around here and she fits that description.’
‘It’s so awful.’ She seemed to be enjoying the tragedy now, warming to the attention. ‘They were so in love. They used to hold hands across the table. Imagine your groom not turning up on your wedding . . . She must be broken-hearted.’ She shook her head slowly.
‘Did you see anything unusual? Did he have any arguments with anyone whilst he was in here?’
‘No. He was polite. Always tipped well.’ That didn’t surprise me at all. The waitress was very attractive. I suddenly wanted to get out of there. I couldn’t do this anymore.
‘Thanks for your time.’ I managed to hold the tears in until I’d left the restaurant and turned into a side street. It was too much. I put my arm against the wall to support myself, coughing ugly tears.
The police had told me Mark had been cheating on me, but maybe it wasn’t with someone I didn’t know. Maybe it was with Lucy. Auburn hair and pretty. I couldn’t believe it. I rested my forehead against the cold brick. They’d put on an incredible show of not getting on, but had they been lovers all that time? I dry-retched, my stomach cramping hard.
If I didn’t have Lucy, I had no one. I’d been alone before and I couldn’t bear it again. Rage ripped through me. I couldn’t even confront M
ark. He always managed to avoid the fallout.
A stabbing pain gripped my body and I clutched at my lower abdomen.
I felt hot and cold all at once. Something was wrong – seriously wrong. I felt lightheaded and the world grew dimmer. I put my hand in my pocket but there was nothing there. I remembered again that the police had my mobile. I staggered back towards the restaurant.
‘Please, can you call an ambulance?’
‘Are you okay?’ The same waitress I’d spoken to earlier ran towards me, helping me onto a chair.
‘It’s my stomach.’ I was burning up. Then, suddenly, I was shivering, freezing. Sweat trickled down my back.
‘I’ll call one now.’
I hoped she’d be quick. I wrapped my arms around my abdomen, doubled over on the chair. The pain radiated upwards until I was a bundle of nerve endings screaming with agony. I squeezed my eyes shut, the pain overwhelming me until it became fuzzy background noise, and I fell from the chair into blackness.
Chapter 38
Alana Loxton
Friday
This was wrong, but what other choice did she have? Loxton tucked her hair behind her ears and tried to fake the confidence that she was lacking.
A man in his late fifties opened the door to her. He was tall, wearing an ironed shirt and trousers. Retired Superintendent Neil Fraser. The man who’d investigated the Rachel Hughes murder all those years ago, back when he was a young detective constable.
If he asked to see her warrant card, she was in trouble. She’d rehearsed a spiel about leaving it at home, but she didn’t think it would work on him.
‘Hello, DC Loxton.’ He shook her hand, his grip firm and strong. ‘Please, follow me.’ She followed him into the living room. There was dust everywhere, making all the colours dull and the room drab. There was the familiar musty smell of stale air and unwashed upholstery.
‘How’s retirement treating you, Mr Fraser?’
‘Please, call me Neil.’ He offered her a seat on a tired-looking armchair while he sat opposite her. ‘I gave the police the best years of my life. My marriage, my mental health, everything.’ He smiled sadly. ‘And then when I’d done my thirty years, I was shown the door, just like every other copper before me. I’m a police officer through and through. What am I supposed to do now?’ He looked lost in his domestic setting, the buzz of the office no longer around him.
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