Bad Sister(26)
‘The report certainly points to Steph never forgiving her mother. Loads of issues are attributed to the mother’s lack of support – feelings of betrayal and abandonment are discussed – following the devastation of losing her home and her father.’
‘So it mentions her father? He died in the fire, as Steph said then?’
‘Guess so. Don’t understand why this wasn’t known to us. As far as we knew, her dad was merely unreachable – alive, but at an unknown location.’
‘The information you have is clearly inaccurate. Begs the question how it could be so wrong. Seriously, Miles, this is basic stuff – background info, family history. How have you done your job effectively if this information was missing, or patchy at best? How safe is Steph if her own witness protection team don’t even know the full picture?’ Her rant extinguished itself. She loosened her grip on the receiver, unaware until she felt the tingling in her fingers that she’d been holding it so tight. Her anger at Kelly and now the incompetence of Miles’ team had come spilling out.
‘We’ve done our job, Miss Summers.’ His voice, curt.
Connie felt she’d said enough on that point. For now. ‘If there’s no mention of a brother, who did they attribute the blame of setting the fire to?’
There was a long pause.
‘Says here that it’s unsolved. Fire investigators reckoned the fire’s source was inside the hall, the accelerant was petrol. It was suspected to be a firebomb through the letter box. No one was in the frame for it.’
‘That doesn’t fit Steph’s account. She said Brett started the fire outside her parents’ bedroom.’
‘As I said before, I’m afraid you can’t rely on her accounts. Post-traumatic stress was suggested in the report. I think she’s fabricated it all, if you want my opinion.’
She didn’t.
Why hadn’t this come to light before? If Miles’ team could get his hands on the reports now, why not while they were compiling their file on her? Had they just not bothered, and concentrated on the gang they wanted behind bars rather than the well-being of their informant? The system had let Steph down. Perhaps now Connie knew the extent of their shortcomings, she herself could help Steph properly. She did believe her accounts. Steph had no real reason to lie. Her initial concern that she was fabricating the story to ensure her continued support from Miles was now banished.
‘The fact that some of the things Steph has talked to me about have turned out to be true, Miles, means it’s quite possible others are too. I’m prepared to believe Steph is being threatened by her brother, Brett, via letters being sent from the YOI he is, or was, incarcerated in. So I suggest you look into that please. If there’s a Brett Ellison being held, or having been held in the past, the records will prove it. Then you have to take her concerns seriously and up her security level.’
Miles mumbled something she didn’t catch and then said he would contact the YOIs in Manchester and the surrounding area. The call ended with his promise that he’d get back to her as soon as he had any further information.
In the next session with Steph, Connie was going to blow this whole thing wide open – tell Steph she believed her story and ask her to tell her everything she remembered about the threats Brett had made. If her Protected Persons Constable couldn’t offer enough protection, she’d have to help Steph get to the bottom of this, and if it came to it, make sure Miles relocated her again to a place of safety. The last thing Connie needed was another person’s blood on her hands.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
DI Wade
Friday 9 June
From the second-storey corridor window, Lindsay Wade stood and watched. She followed Connie Summers’ unhurried entrance into the police building with interest and slight trepidation. She hoped involving her in the investigation as an expert advisor was the right call. It wasn’t like she was independent of the case – it could backfire spectacularly. And the fallout of a screw-up wasn’t one she wished to consider. She took her hands out of her trouser pockets and made her way down the stairs to the reception.
As Lindsay walked towards Connie, she did a quick appraisal of her. She looked younger than her thirty-seven years, with no visible wrinkles around the eyes, which were a pretty shade of green. She had a bright complexion – a far cry from the grey tone Lindsay’s skin had taken on recently. Her trousers strained slightly on the thighs, accentuating her larger frame, but her face was slim – no sign of a double chin. Lindsay wondered if the weight gain was recent – a side-effect of her experience with Hargreaves and the prison last year. She’d mentioned time off sick. Lindsay would bet it had been stress-related – possibly an episode of depression.
‘Thanks for coming in, Connie.’ Lindsay offered her right hand and gripped Connie’s. The shake was firm. Lindsay took it as a sign that Connie wanted to come across as assured and confident. Perhaps she was. Connie smiled, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes: they told a different story – uncertain, flitting nervously around the reception area, not quite making contact with hers. Lindsay reached up and placed her hand on Connie’s shoulder – she was a good three inches taller than Lindsay – and gently guided her towards the main incident room. The team had been prepped for Connie’s arrival and were waiting for her professional insight.