Bad Sister(65)

She needed to be logical now. The only way of cracking this case was to go over each small detail and find the evidence. It wouldn’t do to fling theories around on the basis of one woman’s say-so. Especially when there was still a possibility that that woman was central to the case and might have her own agenda. Lindsay questioned her own decision to accept Connie’s invitation tonight – had she crossed a line? But although there was some evidence which could be taken as incriminating, whether that was enough to stop treating her as an expert advisor and more of a person of interest was doubtful. In Lindsay’s mind at least. She had a feeling if her superior knew the situation fully, he might take a different view.

Lindsay clicked on the tattoo files. Connie had told her, almost as an aside, that Niall had a bird tattooed on his upper arm. Again, was this coincidence? Lots of people had bird tattoos, no doubt. Mack had taken pictures of them to a few local tattoo artists. None had recognised the work or could give a clue as to what they meant. Perhaps they were personal to the perpetrator, or Connie? The fact that Connie believed that one was similar to her dad’s previous business emblem was curious. She hadn’t come up with anything on the others. She had the memory stick now. And, as Connie had stated, it did seem unrelated to the current case. Worrying for her though – an unknown person purposely messing with her head, dragging up a past, painful event for no apparent reason. Lindsay would file the stick as evidence anyway, just in case more came of it at a later date.

Lindsay also had a team working on CCTV – seeing if the white van was spotted prior to or after the body drop. But there was literally nothing. It was as if it were a ghost van. The only thing they could gather from the lack of sightings was that he’d kept to lanes. He knew the area. Lindsay was sure he’d had help. But who? How many were involved in this? There were so many loose ends, it made Lindsay’s head swim. Even the interviews with Hargreaves’ final victim, Katie Watson, and her family had some inconsistencies. They couldn’t be ruled out entirely, either.

Much to her annoyance, this case was proving to be more, rather than less complicated as it progressed.





CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE


Connie


Saturday 17 June

Her head was groggy; a fug from too much alcohol. Had it been a productive evening with DI Wade? Connie doubted it. She rolled on to her back, squinting against the brightness of the room, the sun’s rays streaking across the ceiling like long fingers. Although Lindsay had listened, and even agreed in some part, Connie still thought that, ultimately, Lindsay believed Brett was telling the truth. That he didn’t start the fire – and Steph was lying. As far as Lindsay was concerned, Brett’s assertion fitted with Steph committing suicide. Steph had known the truth and, with the knowledge that Brett had been released, her lies were going to finally come to light. Her past had caught up with her. So, according to Lindsay’s theory, Steph was frightened, but for a different reason than the one she’d given Connie.

Maybe Steph had been afraid that if the truth came out she would be in danger of being put in prison, of having Dylan taken into care? Connie flung the duvet off and slowly stood. Or had Steph been telling the truth about being scared that Brett was coming to find her? But not to finish what he started, as she’d said, but to exact his revenge for ruining his life. It might be that Steph was telling a half-truth but, whatever her story, Connie still believed that her death was not a suicide.

And Brett had a motive to get rid of Steph in whichever version of the truth.

After swallowing two paracetamol, Connie fed Amber and then slumped on the sofa. It’d been nice to have female company last night. After the initial awkwardness, Lindsay had relaxed a bit, and had surprised her when she began telling her about her husband. Connie had the distinct impression that Lindsay was lonely. Her job clearly meant everything to her, and she’d also said she felt like she’d sacrificed a lot for it. Relationships had taken a major hit. Connie couldn’t help feeling that Lindsay had forgotten how to apply some social skills, ones required to develop and sustain a healthy relationship. Connie hoped that now she’d made a move in the right direction with her, she’d continue to reach out. She liked the woman – her directness and honesty, the fact that what you saw was what you got – she could trust her. They might even become friends. Connie had to admit, they could both do with a female ally.

After a cool shower, Connie dressed in jeans and a white shirt, and, feeling refreshed and less headachy, decided to walk into Coleton to get something for lunch. Living meal-by-meal was becoming tiresome. What she really needed to do was a proper weekly shop; organise what meals she was going to have, to stop this pigging-out routine she’d got herself in. If she could lose a few pounds, well, a stone at least, she’d feel better, more like her old self. Her mum would stop worrying so much if she could see she was taking care of herself. Although, her mother would never stop worrying. If it wasn’t about her health, she’d find something else to worry herself over.

It was only a ten-minute walk: past the park and then the train station, up takeaway alley and through the market walk to the supermarket. Which was fine on the way, when empty-handed, but when laden with bags, the walk back was far slower. Impeded by the throng of Saturday shoppers, Connie made slow progress. Plus, she had to keep stopping to rest and shift the bags to stop the plastic handles biting into her hands. She should’ve got a taxi home. As she leant against the wall of Sports Direct, facing the opposite side of the street, a familiar flash of purple hair caught her attention. Christ. Not now.