But for the first time ever she’d been able to step away from the job, if only for a short while. Not to forget about the job exactly – she couldn’t ever forget about the women who had lost their lives – but able to find something for herself in amongst the horrors of what she did for a living, to find a little sanity in a world that sometimes seemed mad.
She read the text again. Was she using him? Was that why she hadn’t mentioned anything to Cooper and Eve? She sensed it upset him that she wanted to be secretive. It was complicated. Private. Not important compared to what they were working on. At least that’s what she’d told him but she knew it was bullshit.
The truth was, she wanted Eve to respect her. And that revelation when it hit her was like a truck – as far removed from how she’d felt when Eve returned to work as she could’ve ever imagined. And she knew he wouldn’t understand, not after everything that had been said about Eve.
It wouldn’t hurt to keep things quiet, to make sure it wasn’t some whim, that she did care for the guy. Then and only then would she tell anyone.
‘Mearns, you in there?’
Mearns jumped up from the toilet lid, opened the door to answer Cooper. The wide swing door into the department’s toilets was slightly ajar, Cooper standing outside, only his fingers curled around the door visible.
‘One second.’
‘No probs. Sorry to interrupt. We found the vet.’
Mearns picked up the plastic cup she’d left behind when she’d gone to the toilet and perched on the edge of Cooper’s desk, waiting for him and Ferguson to update her.
Cooper started. ‘He’s been staying at an aunt’s locally. Got in touch with her, seems she can see no wrong in our Adrian Hardy – done for stealing drugs from his work or not.’
‘She let him know we want to talk to him?’
‘Yeah. Eve’s on her way, says she’ll meet me there.’
Mearns tried to hide the look on her face. Pissed off, desperate to get more involved. She looked at Ferguson as he spoke up.
‘And us? It was me who made the connection.’
He sounded like a petulant kid, but Mearns could understand why he was annoyed.
Cooper shrugged. ‘Eve wants you guys to go see Lexie’s dealer, the guy Jenkins met with the night she was killed.’
‘We found him?’ Ferguson was sounding a little less pissed off.
‘Yeah, turns out the bar staff at the hotel got yapping about what had happened, spoke about the guy, and the barman who’d come on shift recognized the description. He phoned in, says he knows where the guy hangs out.’ Cooper ripped off the top sheet of his notebook and passed it to Mearns. ‘This is the pub you’ll find him at.’
Mearns took the paper, glanced at the address and then Ferguson before pocketing it. ‘Classy joint.’ She felt appeased – at least a little. ‘How did she get on anyway?’
Mearns knew it must’ve been hard coming face to face with MacNeill.
‘She can’t be sure. Thinks MacNeill might be toying with her.’ Cooper looked at Mearns.
‘What’s she thinking about Hardy?’
‘Says she can’t ignore the facts.’ Cooper made a point of focusing his attention on Ferguson. ‘Facts you brought to her, such as the ketamine, the stalking.’
Mearns didn’t miss the straightening of Ferguson’s posture, his ego being stroked expertly by Cooper.
Cooper smiled. ‘At first, as good as it looked, it was at best a long shot. But on having a nice friendly chat with his lovely aunt, it seems it might not be such a long shot after all.’
Mearns frowned, waiting for Cooper to say more.
‘Guess where his aunt moved from last year?’
‘You’re shitting me.’
‘Nope. St Andrews.’
Mearns’ heartbeat quickened. It was too much of a coincidence, surely.
Eve drove fast, wanting to leave MacNeill behind in more ways than one. Glad to be heading to Aberdeen, leaving the busy fishing port of Peterhead and her past behind. Peterhead was known locally as the Bloo Toon, supposedly because of the blue stockings that the fishermen originally wore, but Eve chose to believe it was more to do with how cold the bloody place was.
She squinted against the low winter sun bouncing off the wet road ahead but resisted flipping the visor, wanting instead to soak up the brightness of the day: clear blue skies stretching out in front of her, muddy green fields re-emerging from beneath thawing snowfall and speeding ever faster past her.
She turned up the volume on the car stereo, Original FM playing a song that reminded her of her youth. Before everything. The synthetic 1980s beats of OMD vibrated from the speakers, immersing her for a moment in the comfort of childhood memories.
Someone had sent that front page. Wrapped around Jenkins’ tongue. And that person wanted to make it clear it was personal. If not MacNeill, then who?
Eve discarded the thought as quickly as it came. She wanted, no, she needed, this moment, this break from everything that was going on – no matter how short-lived. Even if it was only going to last the distance left before reaching Aberdeen. She glanced at the dusty dashboard clock. She was making good time for meeting Cooper.
Her mind wandered to Adrian Hardy. That damned front page creeping into her mind again, refusing to go away. The only connection Hardy had to Eve, and a tenuous one at that, was the fact Sanders, a member of her team, had arrested him. But could Hardy be MacNeill’s puppet? The ketamine? Had they known each other on the drugs scene? Had MacNeill kept up his supply? Did it have to be connected to her and Sanders? Could it be someone playing with her, trying to shake her? It was whether Hardy would be capable of it, and why. She had no idea.
The vet link had been a stab in the dark. More desperate than she’d let on to her team, though their faces had said they thought it anyway. Now that it had turned up Hardy, with his history of ketamine theft and stalking, it seemed too neat, almost as if Hardy was being delivered to them. But earlier, when Cooper had called her, breathless with excitement at the St Andrews link, it had dampened the voice of doubt whispering in Eve’s ear. Package-wrapped or not, the facts couldn’t be ignored.
She was distracted by her thoughts when the sign for Balmedie showed ahead. Twenty minutes until she reached the city. She had to think about how she was going to handle Hardy. The possibility they might be on the verge of a breakthrough buoyed Eve, more than she thought possible today. To have hope that this could be the week that they stopped another woman losing her life made Eve press that little bit harder on the accelerator.
Chapter 28
Then
They’re downstairs. In the kitchen. Together. Mum and Dad.
The cross-stitched fabric hanging above the bed pulses in the flickering light from the streetlight outside. Dirty yellow creeping in through the flaking painted panes of the window, spreading out across the pale-blue wall, clinging to the multicoloured threads that never used to mean anything. The fabric hanging that had once hung above her bed now moved to above his.
The letters are embroidered on tiny white squares, material that’s always reminded him of waffles. He knows the words off by heart, even the few that manage to shrink away from the light. Taking his time over each one, whispering every line, lines that mean everything. That help to make sense of it all. The lies. All of them.
Satisfied, he burrows beneath the single duvet, brightly coloured rockets, moons and stars covering him – imagining being swallowed by space. Lost in darkness. Glad of the teddy he holds in his hand. He’s not alone. Between two chubby fingers he squeezes at fur. Slides his fingers to the top of the teddy’s ear before letting go and starting again. A movement he finds comforting.
From downstairs he hears the scrape of a dining-room chair against linoleum. Dishes clattering as they’re collected from the table. Water gushing from the tap into the sink. Nothing else. At least he knows they’re still here.
When they come to check on him, if they do, he’ll close his eyes, breathe
deep. Tell a lie like Mum does. Make it easier for Dad. But he’ll make sure Teddy’s tucked away out of sight. Safe beneath him, because he knows Mum won’t like him having it. Not her teddy.
He wonders if they ever liked having him. He knows she’s their favourite. He doesn’t mind though. Because she’s his favourite too.
He thinks about her long brown hair, sees her cute little nose, the way her eyes twinkled when she smiled at him. Eyes that had reminded him of chocolate. Like the buttons in the purple packets they used to get as a treat if they’d been good. The picture of her in his head is clear. Right there. He could almost reach out and touch her. She’d been pretty, but he’d never told her that.
The muffled sounds of soapy water sloshing in the plastic basin drift up the stairs, wet dishes being stacked against each other on the draining board, wooden drawers being pulled open, cupboards being slammed shut. Nothing else. He remembers a time when he would hear them talking, laughing.
But he knows they’ll still be standing side by side. At the sink, by the window. Like before. Except nothing like before. Moving about the kitchen, stepping around each other as if they’re doing some silly little dance. Reminding him of a musical they once took them to see at the theatre, but without the sound. Acting. Pretending. Silent. Lying.
Chapter 29
The worn teak table and scored orange plastic mats reminded Eve of Sunday meals with her grandmother as a kid. It was the rest of the room that let down the memory. Muriel Hardy’s kitchen was sparse, lacked warmth and matched her demeanour. The terraced council house in Seaton Drive was badly in need of refurbishment.
Eve jumped as the kettle on the gas cooker top whistled causing Muriel, a floral tabard covering her blouse and skirt, to stand to attention and start clattering cups about on the worktop.
Adrian Hardy sat opposite Eve and had the good fortune of being able to move his chair – unlike Cooper and her, who had been sandwiched in against the wall, their legs crammed beneath, grappling for space amongst the wooden joists holding the side panels of the table that were probably usually folded away to allow for some space in the small room. Eve’s leg was starting to throb, but she hid her discomfort, not wanting to show any sign of weakness.
Hardy was sitting poker straight, legs crossed, his hands overlapping on his thigh, jeans riding up pale, skinny legs. He looked a world away from someone who would steal drugs from their workplace, but it had been proved that he had. And what did that kind of person look like anyway?
Criminals didn’t come packaged and advertising what was within. Although MacNeill’s appearance did give a pretty good indication of what you were getting. Was it possible Hardy knew MacNeill? Would MacNeill trust this guy to do business on his behalf? Maybe that would be the key to everything, but she’d keep it out of the interview for now.
Eve broke the silence. ‘Thanks for agreeing to our visit, Mr Hardy, especially at such short notice.’
‘I wasn’t doing anything better. And it’s Adrian. Call me Adrian.’
His voice was nasal, annoying. No wonder he wasn’t doing anything better. Stuck in some poky bedroom here, a police record for a theft that cost him his job.
‘You’ll be wondering why we’re here.’
Not a flicker. ‘Yes.’
‘You’ll understand that this is an informal chat and voluntary, but I need to read you your rights and make it clear that you do have a right to legal counsel, should you want it.’
‘No need for all that, I’m sure.’
She rattled through the legalities regardless, interrupted only by Muriel banging four cups, two of them chipped, on the table. Hardy nodded when she was done.
Cooper stared at Eve, probably wondering where she was headed. She wasn’t sure herself, but she needed to get in the right frame of mind for this, to close herself off from her time with MacNeill. Eve made a show of checking her notebook. Casual.
She focused on Helen Black, the photos from the file. Being at the scene in St Andrews with ex-DS Jack Allen. The poise of Adrian Hardy, the rigid way he sat. His aunt resuming her position by his side, her presence having no effect on the way he eyed Eve across the table.
Eve sensed Hardy was not a man used to female attention – more than likely mocked or rejected by those he longed to be interested in him. Like his neighbour, Sonia Paterson, the woman he’d stalked and been officially warned to stay away from eighteen months ago, six months before Helen’s murder. A young woman battered to death. The photos of Helen’s face, or what had been left of it, were still clear in her mind. Had this man been responsible for that?
Cooper coughed, helping her to refocus on the task at hand.
Eve closed her notebook. ‘Mr Hardy, sorry, Adrian, can you tell me about Sonia Paterson?’
Hardy flinched, thrown for a second. Obviously not a question he’d been expecting. Hardy patted at his denim thigh, smoothing the tough material as if trying to restore order.
‘Sonia?’ A catch in his voice.
Eve said nothing, but Muriel did, her face stern. ‘What’s this all about? I thought you were here about the theft?’ Her voice made Eve believe that Hardy’s nasal voice was genetic.
Hardy placed a hand on his aunt’s. ‘Why don’t you go watch your programmes? I’m fine here.’ Talking to her like she was a child.
Muriel looked like she’d rather poke herself in the eye, but she stood obediently and left the room, not before glowering at Eve.
Hardy waited for her to close the door, licked his lips. ‘Sonia was my neighbour. Lived in the same block of flats.’
‘A friend?’ Eve spoke to Hardy like she was someone to be confided in.
Hardy shifted in his seat, uncrossed his legs before crossing them again in the opposite direction. ‘I thought she was.’
‘You thought?’ It was Cooper who spoke this time, his tone sharper. Good cop, bad cop.
Hardy glared at him. ‘That’s right.’
Eve stepped in again. ‘When did you realize she wasn’t?’
‘When the police came to the house.’ Hardy’s jaw tightened.
‘She phoned the police without talking to you first? Without telling you that, in her eyes, you’d done something wrong?’ Eve finished the sentence on a high note, seemingly incredulous at Sonia’s betrayal. Hoping it would strike a chord with Hardy.
Eve waited. Not expecting the smile when it came – a twitch of Hardy’s top lip. It threw her. She could see then that Hardy was no clown, nowhere near as nervous as she’d first thought or, indeed, as Hardy had put across.
Hardy leaned forward and lifted an unchipped mug to his lips. He blew gently, ice-blue eyes staring coolly across the table. Taking his time. Taking control of the situation, if only for a moment. He took a sip, gave a loud sigh of contentment and put the mug down.
Eve wasn’t feeling friendly. ‘Why did Sonia phone the police?’
Hardy, still leaning forward, draped one forearm over his folded thighs. ‘I think you’ll have read that in the file.’
The cocky shit. Eve’s pulse quickened. This nerd thought he knew how to play her. She leaned against the stiff wooden backing of her chair, her own frame relaxed. ‘Trying to keep things friendly, but if that’s the way you want to play it, Mr Hardy, Adrian, then, yeah, we’ve seen the file. It seems you wouldn’t leave Sonia alone.’ Eve was satisfied with the steel edge slicing through her tone.
It was Hardy’s turn to lean back, nonchalant – nothing to worry about here. ‘If you’re here for the reason you gave, then there’s no call not to be friendly.’
Eve wanted to punch him but waited for him to speak again, knowing it wouldn’t be long.
‘Don’t you think it’s a shame how things have changed these days, Detective?’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Women. Like you. Wanting to be our equals on the one hand but banging on about chivalry being dead on the other. I was trying to be the gentleman that I knew she needed. That I sensed she wanted.’
&nbs
p; Cooper didn’t bother to hide the sarcasm when he spoke. ‘You sensed she wanted?’
‘Yes. I’m a man who can read these things. When we first got chatting. You know, the odd occasion that I’d see her on the bus. I’d sometimes help with her bags, see her to her door.’
Eve’s mind flashed to her mother. Had her father’s logic been that skewed right before he attacked her?
‘What changed?’ Cooper asked now.
‘Nothing as far as I knew. She was always nice to me.’
Hardy changed when he spoke to Cooper. Maybe it was an approach he kept for all men.
Cooper tutted. ‘That’s not what her statement says.’
Hardy responded to the challenge. ‘She’s a liar.’
‘You weren’t standing, every night for weeks, whatever the weather, at the bus stop she came off at?’
That smile flashing on his lips again. ‘You make it sound like I was lying in wait. I was meeting her off the bus, helping her, making sure she got home safely in the dark.’
‘Isn’t it true that she asked you on several occasions to stop “meeting” her? That when you ignored her pleas, she started to ignore you? That one night, with someone by her side, she had the courage to challenge you. To make it clear that it was you that was making her feel unsafe?’
Eve liked how Cooper was handling it, was reminded of the good old days.
‘Rubbish. She was playing with me. Pretending she didn’t want me, but I knew by how she looked at me, how she walked, that she did. I looked out for her. That wasn’t “someone” with her that night, it was a male work colleague. I hadn’t seen him with her before. He acted like he owned her. He wasn’t good for her. I could see he was confusing her, controlling her, turning her against me. I was concerned.’
‘You started turning up at her work and the places she socialized.’ Cooper was prodding, warming him for Eve.
‘I wanted to check she was OK. She was looking different. Pale. Skinny. He was always there, stopping her from talking to me. Silencing her. I knew he wasn’t good for her.’
Hold Your Tongue Page 17