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by M. J. Arlidge

  For a moment, they regarded each other, Helen feeling she saw his face darken briefly, before a cheery smile once more lit up his features. Now Downing was out of the car and striding towards her, a briefcase and two files under his arm.

  ‘Helen, nice to see you again.’

  ‘You too. Where are the boys?’

  Another slight reaction, as if he’d been caught out.

  ‘I had to leave them with Alexia. They weren’t happy about it, but sadly they’re getting used to it. My work schedule is very unpredictable.’

  ‘Big case?’

  ‘An appeal that starts in two days, which I know very little about.’

  Laughing, he gestured towards the files, subtly picking up his pace. Falling in step, Helen cut to the chase.

  ‘You wanted to speak to me?’

  For a moment, Downing looked non-plussed – Helen suddenly wondered if he had actually called, whether she’d dreamt it – but then his features relaxed, as recognition kicked in.

  ‘Yes, I did. But really, you didn’t have to come down here just for that.’

  ‘What was on your mind? You sounded worried.’

  They slowed as they reached the steps leading to his house. Suddenly, Downing looked uncertain, even a little sheepish.

  ‘Well, it’s a bit awkward, but I fear I might have been guilty of not providing you with full disclosure the other day.’

  ‘In English please, Robert.’

  ‘I wasn’t entirely candid with you about Declan McManus.’

  ‘In what way?’ Helen replied, intrigued.

  ‘Well, as you know, he called me about twelve days ago.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘And then – well, he actually turned up here, a few days later.’

  Helen nodded, saying nothing. Malik and her supporting officers had been busy canvassing Downing’s neighbours, eventually turning up a sighting of McManus in the vicinity not five days ago. Had this diligent probing got back to Downing, prompting his call? Or was this confession simply the product of a guilty conscience?

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘Well, as I said before, he was touting for business, wanted to work for us in an investigatory capacity. Now he wanted to prove his worth, to buy our interest, if you will.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘He claimed to have some material relating to a case I was working on, a nasty stalking scenario involving threats to person and property. He claimed to have evidence proving that the defendant had done this kind of thing before with a previous girlfriend. As lead prosecutor, he wanted to furnish me with names, texts, even a recorded phone conversation – for a fee, of course.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I told him to bugger off. It’s completely unethical and, besides, I wasn’t at all uncomfortable with him turning up at my house.’

  ‘And that was the last you heard from him?’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  He nodded, as if his duty had been discharged, signalling that he had nothing more to tell.

  ‘And can I ask why you didn’t tell me this first time around?’

  Downing paused, seemingly displeased to be delayed further, dragged back into the conversation.

  ‘It was silly, really,’ he confessed sheepishly. ‘I was just thinking on my feet and – and I was worried that if you knew that he’d contacted me twice, that it might look as if the firm had some kind of ongoing relationship with him, which categorically wasn’t the case.’

  ‘And that was all?’

  ‘That was all,’ Downing responded decisively. ‘Ridiculous, really, but I wanted to put matters straight, give you the full picture, in case it helped at all …’

  Helen nodded, but said nothing, ignoring his tacit appeal for a progress report.

  ‘Right well, if that’s all …’

  ‘Nothing else worrying you?’ Helen asked.

  ‘Only how I’m going to get across this lot in time.’

  Raising the weighty files, he flashed a weary smiled at Helen and hurried up the steps. Helen watched him go, taking in his fussy urgency, the way his house key tumbled from his grasp, as he wrestled with the lock. Something was bothering him, though what, exactly, would remain a mystery, as the barrister now slid the key home, disappearing quickly inside, the front door closing firmly behind him.

  Chapter 65

  ‘Why won’t you talk to me?’

  ‘Because there’s nothing to say.’

  Belinda was trying to sound authoritative, but it seemed to have no effect. Carol continued to stare at her, her expression a mixture of anger and supplication.

  ‘I just want to know if there’s anything that I – that we – need to be worried about?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  There was defiance now, but Belinda could see through it. It was anxiety – fear – that was the real driver here.

  ‘Look, Carol, we could talk in circles about this, but I don’t see the point. Why don’t we just go out for a drink, chat about it, then maybe think about heading out for a bite to eat?’

  ‘You want us to go out?’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Like nothing’s happened?’

  ‘Nothing has happened.’

  ‘You were visited by the police, Belinda. At school. And not by some jumped-up PC, by a detective inspector.’

  Belinda swallowed a curse. How the hell was Carol so well informed? Whom had she been talking to at school?

  ‘CID detectives don’t chase up lost dogs or stolen handbags. They deal with serious crimes …’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘So why were they visiting you?’

  And there it was on a plate. A deep concern, an unpleasant accusation, concealed in a heartfelt question.

  ‘Because they had some questions about Eve.’

  Carol eyeballed her, begrudgingly grateful for the information, but alarmed nevertheless.

  ‘What sort of questions?’

  ‘Just background, that’s all. You know that they haven’t made any progress yet, so they’re just casting around, seeing if they’ve missed anything. They wanted some more info on her background, her timetables, her routine, whether she had a boyfriend on the go … If you ask me, they’re clutching at straws, but they’ve got to try. For her parents’ sake, if nothing else.’

  ‘So did they talk to other people? Members of staff, pupils who knew her?’

  ‘Of course. They didn’t come all that way just to talk to me, did they? What could I give them anyway? I told them she was a diligent student with a very bright future ahead of her. Which I’m sure they knew already.’

  Carol’s body language relaxed slightly. She desperately wanted to believe that it had just been a routine visit, but clearly wasn’t ready to commit just yet.

  ‘And that’s it, is it? Nothing more than that?’

  Belinda took her in. There was so much being left unsaid, so much suspicion, anger and hurt hovering just beneath the surface. Carol was like a wounded animal seeking to be put out of its misery, so crossing to her, Belinda laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Nothing at all. It was routine, that’s all.’

  ‘Honestly?’

  ‘Honestly. So, don’t fret and, please, trust me …’ She pulled Carol to her, wrapping her arms around her. ‘There’s nothing to worry about.’

  Chapter 66

  Emilia eyed Joseph Hudson warily, uncertain how to tackle him. She had never seen him seem so agitated or preoccupied before. They were in a quiet, side-street bar, a venue carefully chosen to avoid prying eyes, yet the experienced officer seemed utterly oblivious to his surroundings, his bottle of beer untouched in front of him, lost in his own dark thoughts.

  ‘What’s happened, Joseph?’

  He shot her a brief glance, but didn’t respond.

  ‘Has something gone wrong?’

  Her tone was sharper now, more urgent. She’d been trying to get hold of Hudson all day and now, when final
ly he did surface, he refused to speak. This was hardly in keeping with the spirit of their past conversations, which had always been free-flowing and illuminating.

  ‘Is it anything I can help you wi—’

  ‘What’s the collective noun for a bunch of bitches?’ Hudson interrupted, finally breaking his silence.

  ‘I’m sorry, you’ve lost me.’

  ‘That’s what we’ve got at Southampton Central. Simmons and Grace, joined at the hip. The sisterhood, protecting each other at all costs.’

  Emilia didn’t care for his misogyny, but let it go. She needed to find out what was going on.

  ‘Have a drink, Joseph. Take a breath. And then tell me what’s happened.’

  Begrudgingly, Hudson obliged, taking a long draught of his lager.

  ‘Helen and I had a bit of a set-to last night,’ he explained. ‘Strong words were exchanged and she obviously went running straight to mummy. I was hauled in front of Simmons first thing this morning and given my marching orders.’

  Emilia couldn’t hide her surprise, nor her alarm. Hudson was the best source, the best ally she’d had at Southampton Central for years.

  ‘You’re out?’ she asked, scarcely believing it.

  ‘That’s what they want.’

  ‘So, what are you going to do about it?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. I’ll think of something. But in the meantime, I want us to step up our attack on Helen. No point holding back now.’

  ‘What did you have in mind?’

  ‘A full-on character assassination. I want to drag her name through the gutter.’

  ‘Right …’

  ‘If you’ve the appetite for it, of course?’ Hudson responded, unnerved by Emilia’s guarded response.

  ‘Sure, but I’ll need ammunition, something I can actually use.’

  ‘Oh, there’s plenty of stuff, believe me, starting with the fact that she’s fallen off the wagon.’

  ‘Really?’

  Emilia couldn’t hide her surprise. Helen Grace was famously teetotal.

  ‘She admitted as much to me the other day and, to be honest, it makes perfect sense. She’s been all over the place lately, lacking her usual energy, dynamism …’

  ‘If you say so.’

  ‘She used to have a real problem with alcohol, legacy of her childhood, I guess, which makes her return to the bottle all the more worrying.’ He sounded concerned, but there was a smile concealed within his grimace.

  ‘I can certainly do something with that,’ Emilia replied, after a moment’s thought. ‘Ties in with our general narrative about a loss of control, failure of leadership …’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Plus, it allows us to dig up her childhood again – the murders in that filthy London flat, the damaged kid whose demons continue to haunt her. It’s all good stuff, and it’ll do for a start, but it’s not enough to unseat her. I’ll need more.’

  ‘And you’ll get it. There’s juicier material to come, trust me. Illicit liaisons with members of staff, misuse of office … Certainly enough to remove her.’

  ‘Tell me more.’

  Emilia’s interest was piqued now. Perhaps Hudson really did have the ammunition to destroy Helen Grace.

  ‘In time. Let’s do the drinking angle first, then go from there. I want a concerted campaign, not a one-off. A slew of allegations and negative publicity day after day that will eventually make her position untenable.’

  He spoke with such vicious zeal, such confidence, that Emilia began to wonder if he’d done this kind of thing before, perhaps in previous postings. She was tempted to ask, but knew it wouldn’t pay to get distracted, not now that she’d finally got Hudson talking. So, instead, she remained quiet, nodding her head in the right places and diligently taking notes, as the accusations and bile poured forth. Now that he’d got started, it appeared Hudson would be hard to stop, which is exactly how Emilia wanted it. This was why she had cultivated him, what their whole relationship had been designed to achieve. Soon, very soon, the final assault would be launched against the unsuspecting Helen Grace.

  And when it was, she wouldn’t know what had hit her.

  Chapter 67

  ‘I don’t understand …’

  Andrew Sutcliffe’s anguish was hard to take, but there was no question of sparing him or his wife.

  ‘You’re saying that – that Eve’s attacker wasn’t some kind of maniac?’

  It seemed strange that the idea of his daughter being attacked by a crazed rapist might be a desirable thing, might offer some kind of certainty for the grieving couple, but Helen could see that her enquiries had disturbed Eve’s parents. They had been given a narrative – an awful narrative, which nevertheless made grim sense – but that was now being questioned, leaving them shaken and upset. Helen was about to respond, but once more DC Malik took the lead. She had handled them brilliantly so far, as was her way.

  ‘We’ve been looking into it in great detail, obviously. There was a serial attacker with a similar MO, whom we were initially interested in, but he was arrested ten days ago in Berwick and is still in custody, so we had to discount him from our enquiries.’

  Jean Sutcliffe stared at Malik, tight-lipped, blank. It was almost as if her words weren’t registering.

  ‘And we’ve had no local incidents or arrests which fit with the precise nature of the attack on Eve …’

  ‘So, we’re having to look at other possibilities.’

  Husband and wife turned as one to face Helen.

  ‘You said in your previous testimony that Eve didn’t have a boyfriend?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘She hadn’t mentioned anyone? Hadn’t brought anyone home?’

  ‘No,’ Andrew said firmly. ‘Nothing like that. Eve wasn’t interested in boys. She liked to study, play music, sports. She had her head screwed on.’

  He gulped as he said it, grief choking him. Instinctively, his wife reached out to him, entwining her fingers in his.

  ‘And can I ask,’ Helen continued gently, ‘if you ever felt that her romantic inclinations might lie elsewhere? That it was girls she was interested in, not boys?’

  Andrew Sutcliffe looked stunned by the question. ‘No … no, that never even entered our heads. Why would it?’

  He seemed determined, defiant, but Helen’s eyes were on Jean. As soon as Helen had asked the question, Eve’s mum had dropped her eyes, wanting to duck the enquiry.

  ‘Mrs Sutcliffe?’

  As Helen spoke, Andrew turned to his wife, expecting a firm reiteration of his denial. But she kept her eyes glued to the floor.

  ‘Did Eve ever mention anything like that to you? Any crushes? Any feelings at all in that direction?’

  ‘I really don’t see what that has to do with anything …’

  Andrew was staring at his wife, perplexed and rattled.

  ‘Look, Mrs Sutcliffe, I know it’s difficult, that this is very personal,’ Helen persisted, ‘but we do need to get a full picture of Eve’s life if we’re to make sense of this terrible tragedy.’

  Silence, save for the slow tick-tock of the carriage clock on the mantelpiece.

  ‘DC Malik and the team have been going back over Eve’s purchases, internet history and so forth, and it does suggest she might have been a lesbian, or at least have been keen to explore that side of her personality.’

  ‘Jesus Christ. What are they talking about, Jean?’

  ‘For God’s sake, Andrew, let them talk …’

  For a second, her husband was silenced. DC Malik seized the opportunity.

  ‘Eve used her Kindle a lot, right?’

  ‘She was always a keen reader,’ her mother agreed, a sad smile pulling at her lips.

  ‘According to her purchase history, she bought at least one book a week, sometimes more. A lot of them were classics, books relating to her school work, I’m guessing, but half a dozen of them were erotic novels, novels aimed at young lesbians.’

  ‘Also, her internet history reve
aled an interest in that area,’ Helen added. ‘She’d googled lesbian dating sites for teens, read articles about coming out, even, on occasion, accessed online pornography. All very mild stuff, of course, but always featuring women, never men. So, you can see why—’

  ‘She spoke to me once.’

  The words slipped quickly from Jean. It was almost as if she wanted them out and done with as quickly as possible. From her husband’s stupefied reaction, Helen could see why.

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘A year or two back, when she was fourteen or so.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘Just that she thought she might have feelings for girls. She – didn’t want advice or anything. I think she was just testing the water, to see how I’d react.’

  ‘And what did you say?’

  ‘I told her to be patient. It might be a phase or a crush, lots of girls go through that at her age. Best to wait and see before making any hard-and-fast decisions.’

  Helen suspected that Andrew Sutcliffe would not have been so gentle, but even so there was enough discouragement and disapproval in Jean’s voice to suggest that, subsequently, Eve might have kept her feelings to herself.

  ‘And that was it? She never mentioned anyone that she was interested in romantically?’

  A curt shake of the head. And now her husband took over once more.

  ‘What makes you think that there was someone? We certainly never had any reason to think there was …’

  Helen took a breath, weighing up how much to share, then took the plunge.

  ‘Again, this may be difficult for you to hear, but the post-mortem examination suggested that Eve had been sexually active.’

  ‘No, no, she was just a girl …’

  ‘I understand that, of course I do, but it’s clear that Eve was not a virgin, which is why we’re keen to discover if she was involved with anyone, prior to her death …’

  Both parents looked shell-shocked, reeling from this revelation. They had lost their beloved daughter – now they were wondering who their daughter was.

  ‘To which end,’ Helen continued swiftly, ‘can I ask you about her association with Belinda Raeburn?’