Bad Sister(41)

‘Okay, thanks. Is there anything else you remember her saying, any hint at her state of mind?’

Where should she start? How much was relevant? Connie didn’t want to betray Steph’s confidentiality, despite her being dead. Dead. Connie sighed. How hadn’t she seen this coming? What kind of counsellor missed something this huge? Perhaps she hadn’t, though. Was DI Wade absolutely sure it was suicide? Was she even sure it was Stephanie and Dylan?

‘How do you know it was Steph, anyway? And that she was my client?’

‘She had some ID on her, and one of the local officers recognised her name. We made the link to you once we found out she was in the protected persons scheme.’

‘Have you spoken to Miles Prescott, her handler, then?’

‘We spoke briefly on the phone to confirm our suspicions as far as we could at that point. He’ll do the formal identification, I’m sure … but I wanted to see you first, before you heard anything on the news.’

‘Oh.’ Connie slumped. It sounded definite – it was Steph. An icy sensation snaked through her veins. And she’d killed Dylan. Her mind attempted to grasp this, but failed. She shook her head, trying to disperse the image of his little face. What’d Steph been thinking?

Lindsay cleared her throat. ‘Sorry, but to get back to my question … her state of mind when you talked to her?’

‘Well, it’s difficult to say. She’d been afraid of being found by her brother, and when I saw her and Dylan at the pirate ship there was a weird bloke hanging around there. She’d seemed alarmed, took hold of Dylan and hurried away. I think there was more to that encounter than she let on to me during our session. And then there were the inconsistencies between what Steph had told me and what was in the file Miles Prescott had given me. I mean, it might not have been suicide, Lindsay.’ Connie’s thoughts were coming fast, and disjointed – the likelihood Steph had taken her own and her son’s life didn’t sit well at all.

Lindsay nodded silently as she made notes in her pocketbook, the scrape of the pen on the paper the only sound. Then she looked up at Connie and spoke slowly, as if she was talking to a child.

‘People saw her, not long before – no one saw anyone else with her, apart from Dylan. There was no evidence at the scene that suggested anything other than suicide.’

‘How long is not long before?’

‘We had sightings reported about fifteen minutes before they were found at the bottom of the tor.’

Connie buried her head in her hands: the vision of Steph and Dylan, broken at the foot of Haytor, too much.

‘We can look into the guy at the pirate ship, though. Hopefully there’s some CCTV that covers that area,’ Lindsay continued.

‘Well, it’s near the café too, so there must be something,’ Connie said, her voice flat.

‘Would you recognise him again?’

‘No. Probably not – I was on the other side of the river, he had a hoody on. I might be able to rule out people though. But why are you bothering if you are sure it was a suicide?’

‘We want to retrace her last steps; he might be useful. We’re putting out an appeal as well.’

‘Oh.’ Connie’s head snapped up. ‘Is that a good idea, her identity is meant to be protected.’ She heard the panic in her own voice.

‘No reason to protect her now.’

Connie recoiled. ‘Christ. Just like that, her life now means nothing. No need to protect her.’

‘Sorry, it sounds harsh, but it’s the reality. Our job is to put together the pieces of the last moments of their lives. Ultimately, Stephanie Cousins committed murder. She has family that will want answers.’

‘Really? What bloody family?’ A heat blazed at her cheeks. ‘Not one of them was bothered about her as far as I know – her mother has dementia, her dad is dead, or missing depending on who you believe, she has a good-for-nothing uncle, and her brother, well, according to Steph, he was in prison until recently. If he exists at all. Why will they ask questions?’ She stared, wide-eyed, at Lindsay, not realising until this moment how messed up Steph’s situation had been – and how little she, Connie, had actually managed to piece together.

‘They still need to be informed, Connie. Stephanie’s new identity was to protect her from her ex-boyfriend and the gang members she gave evidence against. I know that meant no contact with her family either, and they weren’t privy to her new name or location, but now, given the circumstances, they need to know what’s happened.’

‘Well, good luck – it’ll be interesting to see who you actually find to tell!’ Connie got up and paced the lounge, her arms rigid at her sides, fists balled. ‘There’s got to be more to this. It doesn’t feel right.’

‘You’re in shock, Connie. You need time for this to register. I know this is a difficult situation, and you’ve had a lot to deal with this week.’ Lindsay offered a sympathetic smile as she stood.

‘Yes, it seems I have.’

‘Can I call anyone for you?’ Her question seemed an afterthought, one she quickly added before heading out the front door.

Connie huffed. ‘No. I’m fine, thanks.’

She was far from fine, but who would she call anyway? She had to be on her own to get her head around this; to figure out why Steph would’ve taken such drastic action so soon after their session. It wasn’t how it was meant to be. They were working together, to create a new life for her and Dylan. Connie had listened, believed in her – attempted to dig deep to get to the cause of her fears. She’d thought they were getting somewhere.