10:40
Ten minutes later they were sitting at a table in the corner in the restaurant on the top floor of the police station, coffees in front of them. There was a rumor that the canteen would be going soon, following the bar next door, which had closed down months ago. If she was honest, Sam could see that the bar had been an anachronism and there was no justification for their employers to be seen to be encouraging alcohol consumption in the workplace, but she had still been sad to see it go. The bar had been the scene of so many leaving parties, so many birthdays and retirements, it held many happy memories—as well as being a safe place to finish your shift with a pint or two, rather than the bars and pubs in town. How many other workplaces had their own bar? Not many, these days, Sam thought. So the bars in police stations across the country, and even the one at Headquarters, had gradually closed down, and now the canteens were starting to go too.
“So tell me,” Lou said, grimacing. “How did she take the news?”
“She looked shocked,” Sam said. “And then she asked about Juliette. That was about it—she’s barely said a word since then. How is Juliette? Have we got an appropriate adult for her?”
Lou smiled. “I’ll tell you all about that in a minute. First, though—I’ve managed to get you and Caro assigned to Rob Jefferson’s team for Clive’s murder. I’ll get you briefed properly when we have a chance, but for now I can tell you that this job is linked to Carl McVey.”
Sam nearly choked on her coffee. “You’re kidding? How?”
“Shoe mark found in the garden at Russet Avenue matches the one we got from the woodland where McVey was killed. Lots more forensics on this one, too, so you never know, we might be able to clear up our job as well.”
“Right. Is there anything in particular you want me to focus on?”
“Get Caro involved in the interviewing. I’ve asked Rob if you can be the one in charge of the interview strategy.”
“Scarlett’s here thinking she’s going to be meeting up with Juliette. I’m taking it that Juliette’s not under arrest? Do you think she’s up to seeing Scarlett?”
“I would imagine so,” Lou said. “I’d like to watch the camera footage when it happens. Come up to the incident room when you’re done; you can watch Juliette’s interview from this morning.”
10:55
“Scarlett? Sorry I’ve been so long.”
In fact it had only been about twenty-five minutes; nevertheless Sam had almost expected Scarlett to have done a runner. But she was sitting on one of the chairs with her knees up, picking at the cuff of her shirt. Jo’s shirt. The front counter was mercifully quiet for a Monday morning.
“Are you ready to see Juliette?”
Scarlett stood up awkwardly. “How is she?”
Sam smiled. “She seems very well, under the circumstances. My colleagues have been interviewing her about what happened last night, but they’re having a break for now. I’ll take you to see her.”
Sam swiped her access card at the door that led beyond the reception area to the rest of the police station, and held the door open for Scarlett. Walking down the corridor toward the interview rooms, she noticed a sudden spark of alarm cross Scarlett’s face. She was nervous. That was interesting. Sam smiled at her.
“I’ll be right outside if you need me. Unless you want me to sit in?”
“No, no,” Scarlett said. “It’ll be okay. Thanks.”
Sam opened the door to the interview room. Inside, the girl in the pink sweater was waiting with Jan Baker, the FLO. Sam had time to take in Juliette’s expressionless blue eyes, the crossed, protective arms. She was smaller than Scarlett and Sam had a moment to consider how strange this whole meeting was. Ten years was a long time for both of them.
She stood aside. Scarlett’s face crumpled when she caught sight of her sister, and the two women rushed into an embrace. Over Juliette’s shoulder Sam saw Scarlett’s eyes, screwed tight shut, and the tears falling from them. Noticed the whiteness of Scarlett’s knuckles, her hands clenched into fists: one fist in Juliette’s hair, the other pressed into her back.
LOU
Monday 4 November 2013, 11:00
“Sam? Are you okay?”
It had taken Sam several minutes to walk the corridor and climb the stairs between the interview room and the incident room. Her cheeks were flushed.
She nodded but Lou wasn’t convinced. She ushered her into the office and shut the door behind her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine,” Sam said.
Lou waited.
Sam wiped a finger under one eye, looked at it. Composed herself, took a deep breath in. “It’s Scarlett. Seeing her and Juliette just kind of affected me more than I thought it would, that’s all. She’s been through such a lot, Lou. I get this—feeling—like she’s so brave, so strong, and she’s only just holding it together.”
“Oh, Sam. She’s really got to you, hasn’t she?”
“I’m fine, honest. It’s not a problem or anything.”
“Did she tell you anything useful for the Op Pentameter team this morning?”
“No—I was getting to that point when she indicated she was ready to see her family, which kind of precipitated me telling her. I’m wondering now if she said that as a distraction, because the next bit is too traumatic for her to talk about.”
“Or because that’s the part that’s going to incriminate her?”
Sam looked up. “Incriminate her? For what, exactly?”
Lou’s tone was even. “I don’t know. It’s just that she seems to be extremely successful at avoiding answering some very simple questions. She seemed afraid when we first saw her in the VVS, but we haven’t seen any evidence that she’s in danger, have we?”
“Are you saying you think she’s lying about where she’s been all these years?”
“I’m not saying that at all. Sam, do I need to have any concerns about you losing your objectivity?”
Sam looked away. “No,” she said quietly.
“That’s not what’s happening?”
No reply, this time.
“Sam . . .” Lou said, her tone consoling, “I know what you’ve been through recently. With Jo, and everything that happened. I’m aware that you’re potentially vulnerable—”
“I’m not vulnerable at all!” Sam said, biting back at last. “I’m working my backside off as I always do. If you think I’m not doing a good job, say so.”
“It’s not that. You’re doing an amazing job. I trust you, Sam, because you know what you’re doing and you get results. I just want you to know that I care, that’s all. And you’re human, same as the rest of us.”
“If anything, what happened to Jo has made me even more worried about getting too involved. In fact I’ve been thinking of very little else. So no, I’m not losing my objectivity. I know exactly what I’m doing.” Sam’s cheeks were pink, and she’d not made eye contact with Lou since the word “concerns” had been thrown into the conversation. “Can I go?”
“Of course.”
Sam shut the door behind her firmly as she left. Lou breathed out. Sam was the closest thing she had to a best friend, but the fact remained that, on work time, Lou was Sam’s line manager, and the welfare of her officers was always her priority. In any case, there was no more time to worry about it. Lou picked up the phone and dialed Rob Jefferson’s mobile.
“I’m heading back to the incident room,” he told her. “Just been in the CCU checking on that download from the phone they found in the Volvo.”
“Any good?”
“Yes, Zoe’s dealing with the data now. Do you want me to come to your office?”
“No, don’t worry, Rob. I’m in the MIR. See you there in a minute?”
SAM
Monday 4 November 2013, 11:05
Sam was sitting on the bench in the Lawrence Carroll memorial garden outside the canteen. It was less a garden and more a square of turf squared by a foot-high box hedge, a circular flowerbed in the center
which would be full of daffodils and tulips by spring, but which for now was bare except for the layer of rotting leaves. It wasn’t exactly private, but, short of getting in her car and driving away, there were not many options for a breath of fresh air and a five-minute think.
Not private at all, as it turned out, because a moment later Caro Sumner came out of the side door and sat down next to her.
“I’ve hardly seen the DCI this morning,” Caro said, by way of an introduction.
“Everything’s gone a bit crazy again,” Sam replied.
“Well, it makes sense. Are you okay?”
Sam looked up. “Of course. Why?”
Caro gave her a gentle smile. “You seem a bit . . . preoccupied. Tell me to mind my own, if you like. But I’m a good listener.”
Sam wouldn’t have dreamed of telling Caro to “mind her own,” and yet she didn’t especially feel like sharing Lou’s concerns over her professionalism just yet, either. As a compromise, she said, “I find it hard to stay detached sometimes. Don’t you?”
“Definitely. And I don’t always think staying detached is helpful. It’s what makes us good at our jobs.”
That was it, exactly, Sam thought. There were procedures in place, professional standards that had to be maintained, and yet that didn’t mean you weren’t allowed to care about the people you interacted with. It was by developing empathy with people that you were able to understand them, get under their skin, establish the things they were trying to hide and then persuade them to bring those things out into the open. That sort of result couldn’t be forced.
“I wasn’t going to mention this,” Caro said then, “but I used to work with Jo. Just for a couple of months, when she was covering for Trevor Harris in Knapstone.”
“Did you?” Sam said.
Jo had spent about three months working in Knapstone’s custody suite, not long after they’d both transferred to Eden from the Met. As the new girl, she was being used as temporary cover whenever one of the civilian detention officers went off sick—it meant a lot of driving around, but then again she got to know all the custody suites in the county very quickly, as well as all the people that worked in them. Despite Knapstone being a long trek from Briarstone, Jo had enjoyed it more than any of her other taskings, until she’d got a permanent placement in Briarstone nick.
“Have you heard anything from her?” Caro asked.
Sam shook her head.
“Nothing at all?”
“I ring her mum from time to time, so I know she’s all right.”
“She had a rough time of it,” Caro said.
Didn’t we all? Sam thought.
And then, as if she could read Sam’s thoughts, Caro said, “I guess you had a rougher time than anyone, though . . .” and she laid a hand comfortingly over Sam’s, just for a moment. A warm touch, a gesture of sympathy.
“. . . and it’s experiences like that which make us better police officers,” Caro added. “That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. I think that’s why you’re the only one who seems to be able to get anything out of Scarlett.”
“What do you mean?” Sam asked.
“You’re the only person she’s spoken to. The only person.”
“She’s hardly told me anything,” Sam said. “And I get the impression that what I’m getting out of her is a very strictly edited version of the truth. I mean, it might be that the recent past is even more painful for her to think about, let alone tell to a stranger . . .”
“Is that what you’re thinking?”
Sam paused for a moment, thinking. Then she admitted, “No. I don’t think that. I think she’s playing us. Or me, specifically.”
“Why?”
“I don’t think it’s anything personal. I think she is just used to trying to gain advantage wherever she can get it. She’s used to thinking quickly and adapting to situations. She’s survived the last ten years and she’s done it by being clever. That doesn’t necessarily mean she’s guilty of anything. It just means . . . it’s going to take a different approach to get her to open up, that’s all.”
Caro got to her feet. “I hope Lou Smith realizes how lucky she is to have you on her team, Sam.”
Sam gave a short laugh. “She’s brilliant to work for,” she said. Most of the time.
“Let’s go back, shall we?” Caro said cheerfully. “They’re watching the DVD of Juliette’s interview. I think you should take a look—it’s quite a surprise.”
LOU
Monday 4 November 2013, 11:10
Rob Jefferson and Lou were watching the rest of the interview DVD in silence when Sam and Caro came in. Rob was sitting at his desk in the incident room, Lou looking at the screen over his shoulder.
The young woman in the pink sweater was hunched over, her head buried in her arms.
“What’s going on?” Caro asked.
“She’s crying again,” Rob said. “She doesn’t say much after this—another two minutes and Sam brings Scarlett in.”
“Rob’s asked the forensic nurse practitioner to meet with her before the next session,” Lou added.
Just as the DVD finished, Zoe Adams came into the incident room.
“How’s it going?” Lou asked.
“Slowly,” Zoe said. “I’ve got Clive’s and Annie’s phone data through now, along with the data from the handset we recovered in the car. I had a reply from SB too, haven’t had a chance to look at that yet. It’s going to take a while to go through it all.”
“What have you got on the phone in the car?” Rob asked.
“Unfortunately there isn’t any immediate indication as to who that phone might belong to—no finger marks, no helpful images or address book entries labelled ‘home’—but there’s plenty of call traffic. And I’ve got a few useful things to start off with.”
“What’s that?” Rob asked.
“The SIM card is a Pay As You Go, of course. But looks as if it might be one of a series of SIMs that was probably a bulk purchase. We’ve had almost consecutive numbers turn up in phones discarded by members of the Cunningham network. This particular number isn’t directly in sequence—the number ends in 512—and we’ve had 522, 523, 528 and 529 turn up over the past six months. It’s just possible that the sequence starts earlier than we realized.”
“Which makes it likely that the phone was in use by one of Cunningham’s lot,” said Rob.
“It’s possible,” agreed Zoe. “When I do the analysis I’ll make sure all the latest numbers we’ve got for that network are put in for comparison with the call data.”
“What do you think, Rob? Do you think one of Cunningham’s runners is also into car key burglaries and doorstep muggings? Anyone you can think of?”
Rob Jefferson frowned. “Not off the top of my head, but you know what the street-level dealers are like. They’ll get money wherever they can—burglaries, robberies, muggings. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s one of them.”
“What about the cellsite data?” Lou asked.
“Not massively helpful. Whoever used the phone didn’t go outside Briarstone very much. The home cell—that is, the one where calls start from every morning and end up at last thing at night—it’s at the back of the Park Hill estate. Over a thousand homes, and where most of Briarstone’s criminal fraternity live. I’m concentrating on the call traffic from the past few days.”
“Well—it’s a good start,” Lou said. “Hopefully you should get a better idea about whose phone it is from the data.”
“We’ve got a good chance of some DNA on the hoodie they found in the car, too,” Rob said. “Going to be a while, though—even prioritizing it.”
“Do you need any help on the analytical front, Zoe? Want me to see if I can get you an extra pair of hands?”
“No,” Zoe said, “it’s fine. It’ll take some time but it’s not the sort of thing you can really delegate. Thanks, though.”
“When’s the next briefing?” Lou asked Rob.
“Four,” he said. “P
robably won’t be much we can add by then, so don’t worry about attending if you’re busy, but we can update Late Turn. And then I’ll do another proper briefing tomorrow morning.”
“Great,” Lou said. “I’m going to catch up on a few bits—I’ll see you later.”
Date: 4 November 2013
To: DCI Lou SMITH
From: PSE Jason MERCER
Re: Re: Crime series
Hi,
There are two car key burglary series at the moment; let me know if you need the spreadsheet of offenses.
Op Sausage
Car key burglaries in Baysbury, Catswood and Briarstone
13 offenses since August 2013
MO: Levering rear window (3 offenses), conservatory (4 offenses) or back door (6 offenses). Believed vehicles are parked up in a residential area and left for a couple of days before being removed. 2 vehicles recovered. Remainder still missing.
Tool marks left at scene
Temporal: overnight, most offenses Wednesday to Friday (10 offenses)
Property: cash, mobile phones, laptops, high value vehicles from driveway (Audis, BMWs and Range Rovers all less than 2 years old)
Suspects: none
OIC: DC Colin HARWOOD
Op Nomad
Car key burglaries in Briarstone
6 offenses between March and September (last offense 27 September)
MO: front UPVC door levered
Temporal: overnight, no preferred day
Property: vehicles only, all 4x4s
Suspects: none
OIC: DC Colin HARWOOD
Op Nomad is likely to be closed at the next Tasking & Coordination Group meeting on Thursday.
Hope this helps,
Jason
LOU
Monday 4 November 2013, 12:50
Back in her office, Lou checked her emails. Jason had replied to her request on Sunday about the burglary crime series. On that impulse she picked up the phone and dialed his direct number.
“Hi,” he said, when he answered. Surprise in his voice—her number would have shown on the caller ID.