Bad Sister(34)

‘Do you hold them against anyone else?’

She smiled. ‘No. My support group is teaching me to let go of hatred, blame – all the negativity that eats away at your soul. The only way to get over this, eventually, is to forgive.’

If she was lying, she was very convincing.

‘Have you had contact with Miss Summers at all?’ It was niggling Lindsay that Katie had brought up Connie’s name.

Katie’s neck flushed pink. ‘Erm … no, I haven’t met her before, just seen pictures. You know, in the paper, on the local news and stuff.’

Lindsay pursed her lips and tapped her pen on the pad, looking straight at Katie. ‘Only, you mentioned her by her new name, not the one that was in reports. I was just curious, that’s all.’ She smiled, wanting to play it cool; she didn’t want to make Katie feel as though she was being interrogated.

Katie shrugged. ‘I must’ve just heard it, or seen it – actually, I think someone told me a while back. I can’t really remember. It’s a small town, after all.’

‘Yes,’ Lindsay said, ‘I guess it is.’ She thanked Katie, and asked if she’d show her mother through next.

Anna’s story confirmed Katie’s, and Jenny had been at a school assembly on the 2nd and with her husband, in bed, on the 5th.

Lindsay and DC Sewell left the Watson women hugging each other in the kitchen.

‘Let’s hope that they really didn’t have anything to do with Hargreaves’ murder. It would be terrible if we had to pay them another visit.’ DC Sewell closed their front door.

‘Agreed. I wonder how the male Watsons fared?’

Lindsay’s gut feeling was that they would all be in the clear.

But then, her gut had been wrong before.





CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE


Connie


Tuesday 13 June

Connie checked the time on her computer again.

Steph was late. She was never late. It was twenty minutes past her appointment. Connie’s fingers drummed on the edge of the desk. Why wasn’t she here? Perhaps she’d had issues with the pre-school; Dylan might be unwell. The only contact number Connie had was her landline, and she hadn’t answered that.

She’d be here.

Her next client was due at eleven. Should she put him off? If Steph was any later, Connie wouldn’t get the time she needed with her to cover everything she had in mind. If she cut Steph’s appointment short, it might be detrimental. And Connie doubted whether asking her to come back later in the day would go down well. She put her head in her hands and pulled at her hair. What to do?

She strode to the window, checked the street, the market – no sign. Maybe she’d forgotten – that was a problem with pre-booked sessions. She ought to send reminder texts, like her dentist did. That’s the only reason Connie never missed her own appointments.

Dammit.

Connie picked up the phone and dialled Paul. Hopefully she could reschedule him without causing him undue anxiety. He was reaching the end of his sessions with her – it would be a good indicator of how he was coping with everyday problems. Or that’s what she convinced herself as she explained the need to alter his session.

Thinking it could well be a waste of time – and that Steph wouldn’t show up at all today anyway – Connie set about writing notes about everything she wanted to discuss with Steph. Every few minutes she checked out the window. Come on, Steph – where the hell are you?

Could the man from yesterday have caught up with her? Should she call the police, or Miles, to go and check on her? Connie’s heart fluttered erratically.

What if Brett had found her?

Connie reached for the phone again. Then stopped. She was blowing this out of proportion. Steph was just late. She replaced the receiver. She’d give it another ten minutes. Her attention was caught by the new mail icon flashing on her computer screen. She clicked on it.

You have received a new private message through your counselling directory page.



Distractedly, she scanned it. She usually got messages from people enquiring about her service – how many sessions, how much it cost – even though this information was already set out on the website. Really it was their way of reaching out; taking the first tentative step. They wanted to get a personal message from the person they were considering putting all their trust in. It was understandable.

But the new message was not someone reaching out in that way.

Connie read through the message twice to make sure she’d not misread it.

It’s you who needs the counselling. No wonder, when you’ve had to keep secrets for 22 years. That stuff screws with your head. Or are you still claiming you know nothing about it all?

Don’t you remember, Connie?

Your dad does.

He clearly doesn’t care though, he’s still carrying on like it was nothing to him.

He didn’t learn the first time, maybe he needs another lesson.



She stared at the message in shock. Then her brain kicked in. Why would someone send a message like that through her website? They must want her to inform the police. Unless they believed she wouldn’t involve them for fear of dragging her and her family into a horrible, stressful situation. The memory stick was one thing – that was telling her to wake up and see that Luke’s death was no accident. It wasn’t threatening. But He didn’t learn the first time implied another ‘lesson’ was coming. These things couldn’t be a coincidence, it must be from the same person who gave her the USB. This was more worrying.