Bad Sister(7)

Connie sat back, forcing her shoulders down into their natural position. ‘So, now he’s dead?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Three days following his escape. His body was dumped outside the prison gatehouse this morning.’

‘Well, that’s unfortunate for him, I guess. So what’s any of this got to do with me? Why are you here?’

‘Well, that’s the interesting part.’

Nothing about the case so far was in the slightest bit interesting as far as Connie was concerned. She didn’t want to have anything to do with it. Her upper body slumped. What the hell was coming next?

‘Eric Hargreaves’ body has been mutilated, the type and detail is not being disclosed for obvious reasons, but let’s just say it’s been done in a … particular way—’

‘And you think I can help establish the type of person who would do this, give you some clues as to their motive?’

DI Wade scrunched her face a little and gently shook her head. ‘I’m sure you could help with that, yes, but we’re calling on you for a different reason at present.’

Connie’s stomach dropped. ‘Oh?’

‘You see …’ DS Mack took over. ‘On closer inspection it was noted he had something written on his hand.’ He paused, a smile playing at the edges of his mouth. He was enjoying dragging out the details; making Connie squirm. She rubbed at the raised red mark that was still on her wrist. It was stinging. She closed her eyes to block out DS Mack’s smug face. Although she couldn’t remember where she’d seen him before, she hoped after this that she’d never see his face again.

‘Am I meant to guess?’ Her tone sharp.

DS Mack shifted sideways slightly in his seat; his feet kicked the corner of her desk. He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a see-through evidence bag containing a photograph. He held it out towards Connie between the thumb and forefinger of each hand.

She blinked rapidly a few times, then frowned.

She stared at the words: ‘CONNIE MOORE’ written in black on the palm of the bloody, grey-tinged hand.

Connie’s face tightened.

‘It’s a conundrum for us, too,’ DI Wade said. ‘But we’re hoping you’ll be able to shed some light on it?’





CHAPTER SEVEN


DI Wade


‘Wow, Mack, what was all that about?’ Lindsay slid into the seat and slammed the driver door in one smooth movement, then stared at him.

‘What?’ He kept his focus forward.

She recognised that tone. He knew exactly what she was referring to; it wasn’t as if he could’ve missed her sharp glance when he’d spoken to Connie Summers.

‘Do you know her?’

‘No,’ he answered quickly. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Oh, you know – the weird atmosphere as soon as we walked into her office, the underlying tension, the sarcasm; signs people might show if they’ve got history.’

‘Wow, you’ve got one hell of an imagination. Don’t you think she’s a bit young for an old codger like me?’ Mack ran a hand through his grey hair. Lindsay stared at him for a moment, taking in the mix of dark and light grey tones. She actually liked his hair; it was still thick, if not a bit unruly – if anything, it was his stubbly beard that aged him, made his face appear more weathered. She smiled.

‘Good point.’ Lindsay turned the ignition. She and Mack had worked together long enough for their working relationship to feel comfortable. Even as his superior, she could be herself, have a laugh. It was important in their line of work, and had become even more so since their last murder case; it’d taken a long while to regain her confidence after that one. To trust her judgements; instincts. Thankfully, the force still believed in her ability and skills as a DI.

‘Oh, cheers, Boss.’

She grinned. She’d get to the bottom of it at some point. She’d never seen him conduct himself that way before. There had to be a reason for it.

‘So, your personal stuff aside, what did you make of Miss Summers?’

Mack shook his head gently, tutting. ‘Not sure, if I’m honest. She was a bit hostile, short.’ He raised one eyebrow. ‘You know, personal stuff aside …’

‘Hah! Yeah, I thought that too, though. It could just be because she’d been slammed for being instrumental in his release, perhaps she still has guilt issues – and now her name is on Hargreaves’ hand she’s worried the past will rear its ugly head again. I get that.’

‘Or?’

‘Or, she has an idea of why her name’s on his hand and is hiding something.’

‘So, we’re not thinking she’s a target? If the killer wrote her name, you don’t think it’s because she might be the next victim?’

‘Well.’ Lindsay raised her shoulders in a half shrug. ‘We can’t rule that out. But it didn’t seem threatening, just a name – not you’re next, Connie Moore.’

‘I can see what you mean, but I’d feel pretty uncomfortable if it was my name on a dead man’s hand. How do you wanna play it then?’

‘I think get her onside in a professional capacity – as an advisor. She’s worked for the police before, so should be easy enough to cut through the red tape and get her cleared. That way we can keep an eye on her, keep her close, in case we do uncover any evidence that she’s at risk. And we need to get as much info from her on Hargreaves and his associates as we can, see where that leads us. I’ll give her a call later to set it up.’