by Carol Wyer
By the time they emerged from the bar, the sun had reached its zenith, casting shadows across the car park that flickered unsteadily as light clouds flitted overhead. Natalie pulled her jacket tighter, unsure if the cold fingers running down her spine were due to the cool temperatures or seeing the girl on the phone. She slid back into the suffocating air of the squad car, which had heated up in the direct sunshine, and lowered the window.
‘Back to Eastview Avenue?’ said Ian.
‘Yes. Might come across Hattie while we’re there.’ She fumbled for the air-con switch and put it on, turning up the fan as well to direct cooler air onto her face.
Ian twisted around in his seat to reverse the car back onto the main road. ‘I know Ryan was with Stuart and William last night but that doesn’t mean he can’t be behind the attack on Gemma,’ he said.
Before she could agree, Murray’s voice came over the communications unit. She answered, ‘Receiving.’
‘Nothing to report yet, only that Hattie Caldwell is extremely well liked and the other students on her course only have good things to say about her.’
‘You haven’t come across her at all today, have you?’
‘No. No one we’ve spoken to has seen her today.’
‘Anything on Gemma?’
‘She was a likeable student who worked very hard. We’ve drawn nothing but a load of blanks. We’ve got a couple of Gemma’s language lecturers to interview next.’
‘Will you also talk to Lennox Walsh’s chemistry tutor to confirm he was working on an experiment to do with… Hang on…’ She flicked through her notebook and read out loud, ‘To develop green reactions using an applied magnetic field that can contribute to a sustainable chemical future.’
There was a pause and then, ‘Using an applied what?’
She repeated the sentence more slowly so he could write it down.
‘Okay, I’ve got all that,’ said Murray.
‘Find out how students access the chemicals. I’m guessing they need signing out and I’d like to know if he’s removed or requested any acid although I can’t imagine he would. It wouldn’t be the brightest move to make, and he would surely guess we’d check on him. We’re returning to the student house to talk to Ryan again, and then we’re heading back to the station.’
‘We’ll get onto it and keep you posted.’
Natalie shut her eyes to help her consider the facts. This type of attack was rarely random. Assailants were invariably those who wanted to maim and disfigure an individual who they were jealous of or who had hurt them in some way. It was likely to be somebody who knew Gemma who’d carried out the acid attack. If Ryan had been dumped, as he admitted, but was still crazy about Gemma, he had a motive, yet he also had an alibi as to his whereabouts at the time of the attack. Once more she lifted the file that Ian had compiled and searched for information on the student, noting he had come from Johannesburg and been sent to a private school in the north of the UK for the last two years of his education before applying to do politics at Samford. She rang HQ to request information on his past and see if he had ever been in trouble with the police in South Africa.
Drawing up once again outside the house where Gemma had lived, Natalie released her seat belt and prepared to clamber out of the vehicle. She cast about but there was still no sign of Hattie’s grey Nissan Micra. ‘I hope he’s still in,’ she grumbled. ‘I’m getting fed up with all this toing and froing.’
‘He’s there!’ said Ian suddenly, and sprang out of the car. Ryan was striding out along the path, wheeling a bicycle. ‘Ryan!’
The young man stopped in his tracks. He was now dressed in a tracksuit and had a backpack over his shoulder.
‘We’d like a few more minutes of your time,’ said Natalie.
‘I’m on my way to the gym for a workout,’ he replied.
‘It’ll have to wait. Can you come back inside, please?’
‘Why?’ he asked, his cool gaze on Natalie. There was something unnerving about his expressionless face.
‘We’ve uncovered some information that needs looking into. We’ve been to Chancer’s Bar and we need to talk again.’
He lifted the bike effortlessly and marched back to the house, where he fumbled for his keys and let himself in. He propped the bike up against the wall and then faced them. ‘What do you want to know?’
‘I’d rather do this in your room.’
‘I’d rather not,’ he replied.
‘Why is that? Do you have something to hide?’
‘No.’
‘Okay, we’ll do it your way. You were seen on several occasions at the bar, sitting alone and staring at Gemma. The most recent was only a couple of weeks ago.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘You have been identified by a member of staff and we can request CCTV footage to confirm if you were there or not. Shall I ask you again?’
There was no scowl or defiance only a sullen response. ‘I might have gone to the bar.’
‘Might or did?’
‘Did.’
‘Why were you sat there, staring at Gemma?’
‘I wasn’t aware I was staring at her. I was probably miles away, in my head.’
‘Do you often go into bars and stare into space?’ Natalie said, hoping to provoke a response, but all she got in return was a blank look. ‘You told us earlier that Gemma ended your relationship.’
‘That’s correct. She did.’
‘And that you weren’t “serious” about her. Sitting alone in a bar, staring at an ex-girlfriend, suggests otherwise. It suggests you were still hung up on her.’
He shifted from one foot to the other and Natalie had to keep her head slightly tilted backwards to maintain steady eye contact with him. ‘Do you want to continue this conversation in your room or at the station?’
He gave a curt nod and led the way upstairs. As Natalie entered the room, she realised why he’d been reluctant to let them in initially. A large photo of Gemma was on his bookcase in front of his textbooks and another by his bed. He dropped his keys onto the duvet and sat down, palms on wide thighs. ‘It’s not what it looks like. I wasn’t spying on her as such. I needed to know if there was anybody in her life.’
‘I asked you about this note I found in Gemma’s room,’ she said, holding it out. ‘I’m asking you again. Did you write it?’
‘No. I don’t do subterfuge. I asked Gemma out the day after she moved in here. I prefer to be direct.’
‘And she never spoke about this letter or about having an admirer?’
‘Not once. I don’t know who sent that but I haven’t seen anyone hanging about her. I’d have known if there was anyone.’
‘You’d have known?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because you were keeping an eye on her?’
‘In a way, yes.’
Natalie didn’t push for an explanation. Ryan adjusted his position, preparing to speak, and her silence was more effective than questions.
‘I fancied her from the off. She arrived on the Saturday before term began, same day as me, and we kept passing each other on the stairs. I asked her out for a drink the next day, and the following week we began going out together. Then I screwed up. We went to a party at the beginning of October and I drank way more than I ought to have and told her I was falling for her. It was such a fucking dumb-arse thing to have come out with, because she broke up with me over it. Said she couldn’t deal with that sort of shit. She completely overreacted and was even going to request a move to other accommodation. The only way I could convince her to stay in the house was to assure her I’d only said it because I was drunk and that I was completely chill about her splitting up with me, which was bollocks, but it was better to have her close by than not to see her at all. I actually hoped she’d change her mind in time and we’d get back together again. The thing is, I haven’t been able to get over her since we broke up. I invited her out a few times for a friendly drink but she refused every time, and I got it in
to my head she’d found somebody else. I went to the bar to make certain she wasn’t cracking on with any of the guys there.’
‘Were you jealous of the men she served?’
‘Not jealous as such. I wanted to be reassured she wasn’t seeing somebody else.’
‘Was she?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘Are you saying you never watched her flirt or engage with any other men at the bar?’
‘She didn’t flirt. She was naturally friendly – really easy to get on with.’
Natalie gave him a curious look but he shrugged it off.
‘How do you feel now you know what’s happened to Gemma?’
‘I feel sick. Sick to the very bottom of my stomach.’
Ian threw the young man a quick look and commented, ‘You don’t look too distressed about it.’
‘I don’t do emotion.’
Ian snapped back with, ‘Gemma had acid thrown in her face and as a consequence died. This is the same girl you couldn’t “get over”, who you sat and observed regularly while she was working at the bar to make sure she wasn’t seeing another bloke. What does “I don’t do emotion” mean, exactly? Because it sounds like a load of bullshit to me. If you feel strongly about someone, you can’t help but react.’
‘You can if you come from where I do. You learn to toughen up from a very early age,’ Ryan replied.
Ian was having none of it. ‘You can’t admit to falling for somebody and in the next sentence say you “don’t do emotion”.’
Ryan responded by looking at his hands curled lightly on his knees.
Natalie sensed the tension rising between the pair and took over. ‘Do you have any idea at all who might have attacked her?’
‘No.’
‘Did you notice her talking to any customers in particular? Somebody who seemed keen on her?’
‘No. There wasn’t anyone who stood out.’ Then there was a flicker of eyelids and, ‘Maybe you should look online.’
Ian replied, ‘We’ve examined her social media accounts. There’s no suspicious activity. Do you know something that we don’t?’
‘I don’t know how relevant it is but Fran and Rhiannon were slagging Gemma off a while ago on Facebook in a private conversation. Fran got pissed one night and showed it to me. She thought I’d find it amusing but I didn’t.’
His hands balled into fists and Natalie took it as a sign that what he was saying was very relevant. These girls had angered him. ‘Tell us more.’
‘I can’t remember exactly what was said. I read some of the conversation and told Fran to grow up and stop being a stupid bitch.’ The fists had clenched tighter and he continued, ‘The fact is, Gemma was a class act and way better than those nasty bitches.’
‘Who else was part of the group?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘We might need to talk to you again.’
‘Okay. Can I go to the gym now?’
‘Yes.’
‘Are you going to talk to Fran and Rhiannon about this?’
‘We are and I would appreciate it if you don’t mention what we’ve discussed with anyone. This is an ongoing investigation.’
‘I won’t say anything,’ he replied. With that, he pushed himself to his feet and stood in front of them, his large frame blocking the light streaming in through his window.
Natalie noticed how spartan his room appeared to be with no personal effects, other than the photos of Gemma, on display. It was like the young man himself, giving no clue to his true identity or to his past life. She couldn’t imagine what his life had been like before he’d come to the UK, but it must have been difficult if it had driven him to hide behind a perpetual, controlled mask. The question of whether Ryan was responsible for the attack on Gemma hadn’t really been answered, and although they had another direction to investigate, she wasn’t ready to discount him yet.
Chapter Eight
Saturday, 17 November – Afternoon
Fran wasn’t in her room, and unable to raise her or Hattie on their mobiles, Natalie and Ian returned to headquarters to delve into Fran’s Facebook account. Natalie headed to Forensics to see where they were with the investigation and found Darshan Singh and his wife, Naomi, in the lab. Both renowned in their fields, Naomi Singh was a top forensic anthropologist while Darshan was a specialist in forensic odontology.
‘Hi, Natalie,’ said Naomi, lifting her dark eyes momentarily from the damaged, yellowed skull she was examining. Slender as a child and only five foot three, it often surprised those who met her that she was a leading authority on her subject and had travelled the world to lecture on it. Darshan, equally slim but much taller at almost six foot, was visible through a window that separated this lab from the actual autopsy room, where modular steel cabinets and countertops spanned the back wall. He had his back to them and was studying some X-rays on a backlit screen. The body of a young man lay on a trolley beside which was a row of shining tools laid out on a pristine white cloth. As a forensic odontologist, it often fell to him to help identify a John or Jane Doe.
‘Mike around?’ asked Natalie.
‘He’s been called out,’ replied Naomi, pushing herself and the wheeled stool away from the bench into the centre of the room, where she got up and crossed the sparkling clean floor to Natalie and took the woman’s hands in both of her own. Her palms were cool and dry but her eyes were liquid and warm. ‘How are you, really? I don’t want to hear the brave face version.’ The action and gentle words caused Natalie’s throat to constrict but she managed to nod.
‘You know.’
Naomi squeezed her hands slightly – a gesture of kindness and concern. ‘I’m very pleased to see you’ve come back to work, and if ever you want a chat or a coffee or anything, you only have to pop upstairs or ring me.’
‘Thank you.’
Naomi had a no-nonsense approach to everything but this show of empathy was sincere, and etched on her forehead were lines of concern. She studied Natalie’s face carefully and offered a small smile. ‘You need to look after yourself. You’ve lost too much weight.’ She released Natalie’s hands. ‘Why not come around for dinner tonight? Darshan is cooking one of his specialities later.’
‘That’s really kind of you but Josh is staying with me tonight. I thought I’d pick up a takeaway on my way home.’
Naomi gave another smile and, lightly rubbing Natalie’s upper arm, said, ‘Another time then. Make sure you order plenty – extra-large dishes. You need to keep up your strength.’ The focus shifted back to work. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘I wondered if you could examine this note and check it for fingerprints. I’d like to find whoever typed it.’
‘Sure. I’ll get somebody onto it immediately. As far as I know we’ve nothing new on Gemma Barnes. Wait a minute.’ She buzzed the intercom that connected the main laboratory to the examination room, where her husband was working.
‘Darshan, Natalie is here. Has Pinkney finished with Gemma?’
His voice was amplified through the speaker in the room. ‘Hello, Natalie. Pinkney hasn’t written up the official report yet but there is no doubt that Gemma died from a severe form of hypotension, most likely caused by the shock of the attack. You should receive it within the next hour. We’ve identified the acid as high-strength sulphuric. It melted a great deal of her flesh so either the attacker obtained pure sulphuric acid or removed the water from battery acid to make it stronger.’
‘How would they do that?’ Natalie asked.
‘One of two ways: wait for it to evaporate naturally – but that would take several days or even longer – or use a borosilicate glass pan such as a Pyrex dish and boil it. That carries quite a risk, especially as the glass could shatter.’
‘They’d need proper equipment for that, wouldn’t they?’
‘Definitely, and knowledge about what they were doing. The steam given off turns into white vapour, which is dangerous if inhaled.’
‘Who am I looking
for, Darshan? Somebody with a knowledge of chemistry?’
‘Not necessarily. They might have purchased the acid online or even in stores. Some drain cleaner has a high enough percentage of sulphuric acid to cause this sort of damage to flesh.’
‘Could be anyone then?’
‘It could indeed.’
‘What about the dust particles on her clothing?’
‘It was the same polymeric sand used in the joints between the pavement slabs by the library.’
She thanked the man, who returned to his work.
Naomi was not done. ‘It was an abhorrent and cruel act. Some people have very black hearts indeed.’
Natalie could only agree. They’d all seen and experienced cases that would haunt them for the rest of their days.
Naomi had said her piece, her attention back on Natalie. ‘Have a good time with Josh. How’s he getting along at college?’
‘He’s enjoying it. Says it’s much better than being at school. I’m glad he’s no longer attending Castergate too. It’d be yet another reminder of Leigh.’ There, she’d said it out loud – her daughter’s name.
‘It’s better that way. You know what they say, though: kids are resilient. He’ll heal way quicker than you.’
‘I’d be happy about that.’
‘Give yourself a chance, Natalie. And make sure you eat properly tonight. You don’t want to end up looking like that,’ she said, indicating the skeletal remains on another bench.
She was rewarded with a tired smile from Natalie, who slipped back out into the corridor. It had been tricky keeping a lid on her emotions when she’d mentioned Leigh by name. She’d wanted to pour her heart out to Naomi but work wasn’t the place for such an outburst. She could do with whatever mental armour Ryan used to protect himself from emotions. It seemed to work for him. She passed the vending machine on the landing and bought cups of tea and a chocolate bar each for her and Ian before returning to the office.
‘Cheers,’ said Ian, ripping off the wrapper. He snapped off a large section of chocolate, popped it into his mouth and chewed as he repeatedly clicked his mouse.
