The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(105)

‘Sophia made mistakes too,’ Grace said. ‘Not throwing her brother over the cliff, for one. If he’s an eyewitness, her freedom depends on his silence, and that’s not a nice place to be.’

Ryan nodded. ‘We need to find him and quickly.’

O’Neil gave Grace permission to set the ball rolling for an arrest. As the team settled into their work, Ryan wondered if Sophia’s mother had taken the pair on holiday to break the news that they may – almost certainly would – develop Sauer’s, become ill and die before their time. Had she slipped it into the conversation on that clifftop walk without anticipating the strength of their rage? Had they, separately or together, given her a shove?

There was no better place to do it.

An idea occurred to Ryan.

Logging on to his own computer, he brought up the contact details for Michael Tierney’s partner and dialled the number. ‘Robert, it’s DS Matthew Ryan. How are you holding up?’

‘Trying to move on. Thanks for asking.’

‘I can only imagine how tough that is.’ Ryan meant it. The guy was broken. ‘You said you’d give some thought to Michael’s antecedent history. I wondered if you’d had a chance to do that and, if you have, if you found anything that might be of use to us.’

O’Neil held up a thumb, validating Ryan’s call.

Although much better than when they broke the news of Tierney’s death, Parker still sounded shaky on the phone. ‘I discussed everything I knew with the Family Liaison Officer here in Brighton.’

‘When was this?’

‘A few days after your visit.’

‘Not to worry. It’s probably on the system already.’

‘There wasn’t much there,’ Parker said. ‘As I told you, Michael had no enemies, Detective. The odd homophobe, but we’re used to that. Is there something specific you’re after?’ The dentist was intuitive. ‘I was hoping you’d made progress with your enquiry. I want you to catch Michael’s killer and put him away. I can’t bear to think of him wrecking someone else’s life.’

‘Me either.’

Parker didn’t reply.

Ryan suspected he was weeping. ‘There is one thing . . .’ He paused, searching for appropriate words. ‘When Michael was teaching, did he ever mention anything to you about Sauer’s disease?’

Parker cleared his throat. ‘No, why should he?’

‘It’s a line of enquiry we’re following.’

‘What has a cancer diagnosis got to do with his death?’

Ryan was surprised that Parker knew of the disease but then remembered that he was a dentist. ‘We’re not sure, is the truth of it. We’re currently investigating a support group linked to the illness. This is highly confidential – so please don’t repeat it – we’ve found reference to one of the other victims on a chat-room site. I was wondering if Michael might have had any contact with the group, or with someone who either had or might go on to develop the disease during the time he was teaching.’

‘Oh my God!’

‘Robert? Are you OK?’

‘Tell me it’s not her?’

‘Her?’ Ryan held his breath.

Parker didn’t answer immediately.

O’Neil took in Ryan’s tension from across the room. He put the phone on speaker. Responding to the stress he’d put on the word ‘her’, Grace, Newman and Caroline also turned to face him.

After a few seconds, Parker’s shaky voice filled the room . . .

‘The kid he spoke to—’

‘I’m sorry, can you explain? I’m not following.’

‘Michael came home very upset one evening. This was years ago. He’d received a distressing telephone call from a young woman—’

‘One of his pupils?’

‘No. Teaching was his day job. He did a couple of night’s voluntary work on a suicide prevention line, an organization similar to Samaritans. He found it rewarding, except for this one night. The girl poured her heart out him, threatened to throw herself in front of a London Underground tube. She was deeply distressed. Inconsolable. So was he when he got home. They were all disturbing cases, but this one really shook him up. He resigned over it.’

‘Robert, this is very important. Did he meet with her?’

‘No, why would he?’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, of course! She was a kid. He was a teacher. Michael was soft but ambitious, even then. He’d never jeopardize his career under any circumstances. If I remember correctly, he referred her on to a professional counsellor, someone at Social Services. There should be a record of it somewhere.’

‘Any idea which one?’

‘No, sorry.’ There was a moment of silence. ‘It makes no sense that she would harm him if he was trying to help though, does it?’

‘Not to us, no. Do you recall if he rang or wrote to Social Services?’

‘If I know Michael, he’d have emailed the referral, if only to cover himself. On second thoughts, I can’t see there being a record of it now. It was ages ago, early nineties.’

‘Nineties? Are you absolutely sure?’

‘It was 1993, in fact. We went on holiday a week later. Sri Lanka. I thought it would do him good to get away. If you like, I’ll check his old computers. I’ve got nothing better to do this Christmas.’