Bad Sister(42)
Clearly Steph hadn’t.
And poor little Dylan – totally innocent in this – his future now stolen. A heavy sadness settled in her stomach as the vision of his blond curls, his small, four-year-old body forced itself into her mind’s eye again. His life had been cruelly, needlessly, snuffed out.
She rested her head against the closed door, her eyelids shut tight. The house, silent. She’d told Steph just before she’d left her office that morning: ‘We’ll get there.’ Steph’s last words now shot into her mind, loud; accusatory:
‘I hope so, Connie. I really hope you’re right this time.’
How could she have been so wrong?
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
It won’t be easy, but I have back-up. Course, getting the right ones onside, that was a challenge in itself. In here, you know everyone is dodgy; choosing those to trust is a real art form. I got used to reading the signs, though. Sussing out who the grasses were, the arse-lickers, the weak, the lost. Some of the lost ones are the best. They’re dying just to have purpose, eager to please – be with the crowd that’ll keep ’em safe.
I found the right one. Or he found me. Bloody spot-on – fell right in my lap. Sometimes, things are meant to be. Being celled up with him was like a gift from God. Not that I believe in God. How could I? But something, some ‘force’, is obviously on my side.
We’ve got links. Things in common.
I didn’t let him know that, though. I need him to think I’m doing it all for him, that’s one of the most important parts of the plan. He’s more use to me if he’s kept in the dark about my real reasons. Besides, I’ll be making sure he gets what he wants from this.
He just won’t know he’s going to be complicit in murder too.
The staff, well, they took the longest. Trial and error – spent some time down the block, got a few adjudications in the process. But it was worth it.
I’ve chosen well I reckon.
You’d be proud.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Connie
The house was so silent that she could hear her pulse in her ears. Like putting a shell to your ear and hearing the sea; a gentle whooshing and the feeling of calm. Only she wasn’t calm. Her emotions were in turmoil: the past and the present colliding at high speed within her. Her mind couldn’t separate the events, they fought for attention, getting more and more jumbled. A guilt-ridden mess. Hargreaves. Katie. Steph. The list seemed like one long list of cock-ups, which were her fault. Add into the mix the resurfacing of Luke’s death, and the anxiety-fest was complete.
Connie’s fingers were tapping out a text before she’d consciously decided she wanted company. When DI Wade had been in her lounge earlier, she’d had a strong urge to ask her to stay. Share a bottle of wine; chat about something mundane. She gave a burst of laughter, cracking the silence open. No, it seemed unlikely that Lindsay Wade would be the type to converse over a glass of wine. She always appeared so uptight – and whilst that might be her professional demeanour, Connie thought it was a strong possibility she was like that twenty-four/seven. As she waited for a reply from Niall, she allowed her mind to wander – to imagine what Lindsay’s life was like outside of the police force. If she even had a life outside it. Was she married? She hadn’t noticed a ring. Did she have children? She doubted that, somehow.
Her phone pinged.
I can get to you for 8. N x
She placed the phone on the coffee table and went to the kitchen, throwing the fridge door open so wide it hit the wall. The light illuminated a pot of yogurt, an out-of-date pack of pasties and, on its side on the middle shelf – the last lager. That was it. She blew out a large breath of air. When was the last time she’d done a proper shop? Connie snatched the bottle of lager, then closed the fridge. She wasn’t hungry anyway. The drink would be enough. After flipping the lid off the bottle, she went back to the lounge, and sitting on the edge of the sofa, took two big swigs. Immediately, her head felt woozy, replacing the ache that had been there permanently since Lindsay had given her the news.
Woozy was good. Better.
She got her phone and sent another message to Niall.
On your way over can you pop into shop and pick up wine – and lager for yourself, ta x
Connie sent it. Then quickly wrote another:
PS You might want to grab some pizzas too, unless you’ve already eaten. x
*
At the sound of the doorbell, Connie jumped up, lager still in hand, and let Niall in. She drained the bottle as she walked into the lounge, then turned to him.
‘You managed to get some supplies, then?’ She motioned to the Sainsbury’s bags in his hands.
‘Yep, sounded as though you were running low on food, so I thought I’d get you stocked up,’ he said as he headed to the kitchen.
Connie frowned. She’d only asked for pizzas and drink – not a whole week’s worth of food. Why was he being this nice? It wasn’t like he’d ever done her shopping before. She let it go. No doubt she’d find out later if he had an ulterior motive for his thoughtfulness.
‘You remembered the wine, didn’t you?’
Niall put the bags on the worktop and withdrew a bottle of white wine, then turned to Connie.
‘Yes … but, do you think it’s a good idea to drink—’