‘When’s the next meeting?’ Chloe asked, as though reading Alex’s thoughts.
‘It’s supposed to be this evening, but—’
‘Run it,’ Alex told him.
There was only one way they were going to find out whether that support group held the answers they desperately needed. They were going to have to go there to see for themselves.
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘Thank you for meeting up with me.’
Scott sat opposite her, his finger idly tracing the circle of water that the base of his iced drink had left on the wooden table. He looked really handsome, Chloe thought. Too nice for someone like her. Too easy-going and laid-back to deserve being dumped on by the weaponry of baggage she carried with her. She couldn’t understand why he was there at all. She had messed him about countless times: had cancelled, rearranged; cancelled again. They’d had the odd drink together here and there, always time snatched between other commitments. There had been so many reasons – and sometimes excuses – for not being able to meet up that Chloe was amazed he still wanted to see her at all. She took some hope from the thought that it could only mean he liked her. Somehow, she had managed to inadvertently get something right.
Once again, she’d had to start their meeting with an apology. She didn’t have long – the Lola Evans and Sarah Taylor cases were keeping the whole team busy, and that evening she and Alex would be visiting the support group that both of the young women had attended. There were also the apologies for all the previous times she had cancelled on him, often at the last moment. Scott had casually brushed aside every apology, seeming to unquestioningly accept the busy nature of Chloe’s job. She didn’t think that he was by any lengths a pushover, but he seemed to have a patience that she could only dream of. She wished it was really all that simple, and that the job was the only thing that had kept her from him all those times.
Sitting opposite him now, she realised how much she liked him. Chloe hadn’t liked anyone this much in a long time. Liking him was the very thing that had sent her running from every arrangement to meet. Getting closer to him would inevitably mean having to reveal things she had managed to keep hidden for so long. There were things she wouldn’t know how to explain, that couldn’t possibly ever make sense to him, even with the best of explanations. They still didn’t make sense to her.
And then there would be the issue of sex. The thought of getting physically close to Scott was something that kept sending her running, despite how attracted to him she found herself. It was complicated, but how was she supposed to explain that to him?
‘I was starting to think I might have upset you in some way, or—’
‘God, no,’ Chloe interrupted him, a little too keenly. ‘It’s not you, I—’ She winced at her own clichéd words. ‘Work has been hectic – that really isn’t an excuse.’
‘I can imagine. I’ve seen the news.’
Chloe gave a sad smile.
‘You OK?’
She nodded. ‘I like being busy. This is just the wrong kind of busy, you know?’
‘It must be really tough, seeing what you see. I spend my days hoping something vaguely exciting might happen. You know, a kid loses an armband or something.’
She laughed. ‘It can’t be all that bad.’
‘It is. Anyway, you’re looking well.’ He flashed a smile.
She knew he was lying to be polite. In truth, she wasn’t looking great at all. The stress of her encounters with Patrick Sibley and then with the superintendent felt etched into her skin. And then there’d been the visit to her parents’ house. She hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in almost a week, although that was becoming something of a regular occurrence.
She sipped her lemonade. ‘I’ve messed you about. I haven’t meant to.’
‘It’s OK. I understand.’
She knew he didn’t, not really, but Chloe supposed it was kind of him to pretend to. She considered how uncomplicated Scott Mackenzie’s life might be. She knew this of him: he was twenty-seven; he worked at the leisure centre in Llanishen; he shared a rented flat with a friend he had known since school; he was an only child; his parents lived in Whitchurch, where he had grown up. He saw his parents every weekend, usually when he went over to their house for Sunday dinner, which his dad always cooked. It was this image of domestic family bliss that Chloe knew she had been partly captivated by. It was so unlike anything she had ever known.
Scott seemed to think of his life as boring, but it was the very kind of boring Chloe had always craved.
‘I would like to see you, if you’re still OK with that.’
‘You’re seeing me now.’ He shot her another smile and Chloe looked away. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to respond this way to a handsome face.
‘I don’t want to mess you about again,’ she said, ‘but I’d like to get this case out of the way and then… we’ll see what happens.’
She was lying. Chloe didn’t want to wait for the current case to be over – what real sense was there in that? There would be others, the next thing to keep her from living what other people might regard as a ‘normal’ life, but what was normal anyway? What she was really hoping for – trying to ask for without having to say the words – was that Scott would wait for her until she had found her brother’s killer.
She just didn’t want to tell him that until after the job was done.
‘I can wait. Do you think you’ll be using the centre before then? Anyone might think you’d been avoiding the place.’ He said it with a slight smirk, his lip pulled in a half-smile.
Chloe felt her face flush. Before Christmas she had been going to the leisure centre twice, sometimes three times a week for a swim, but since meeting and then letting down Scott repeatedly she had abandoned the pool in favour of running. She hated running.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to—’ God, what was the matter with her today, she thought. She’d been reduced to someone she didn’t recognise: uncertain, apologetic, stammering. ‘I’ve just been busy, really. I haven’t been avoiding you.’
She knew he would see through the lie.
He smiled in an attempt to reassure her. ‘I’m just messing, you’re fine. Look, you let me know when you’re ready and we’ll go out for dinner or something. Be nice to share something a bit more adventurous than a lemonade together.’
There was a glimmer in his eye that made Chloe wonder whether Scott was actually referring to food at all. A nagging voice in the back of her mind questioned whether she was making a mistake. She liked him too much, and that was all wrong. She had Luke to focus on, and a murderer to help catch.
Did she need to prioritise, or could she juggle her responsibilities with some kind of artful balancing act?
Did she always have to sacrifice her own happiness?
Expecting him to wait for her suddenly seemed an unreasonable request. If he minded, it certainly hadn’t shown. She watched him circle a finger through the small puddle of water on the table. God, he was lovely, she thought. She imagined what it might feel like to have those hands on her body – that trace of those fingertips on her skin – and had to shake her mind from the thought when he looked back up at her.
Allowing herself to get any closer might prove a huge mistake. It had happened in the past: who was to say it wouldn’t happen again?
Her phone rang in her pocket, rousing her from her thoughts. She muttered an apology and retrieved her mobile, shooting Scott an apologetic smile as she answered the call.
This might be a mistake, Chloe thought, but she was no longer sure how many potential mistakes she was prepared to avoid.
What if, whilst avoiding all the potential mistakes, she missed the very thing that might lead to something perfect? In her heart, she knew she deserved to be happy. There were just so many reasons why her brain couldn’t yet allow it.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The sky was threatening rain, which once again seemed a fitting tribute to the mood inside t
he car. As Alex drove she couldn’t keep her thoughts from Sarah Taylor. She wondered for the hundredth time where she was now, whether she was still alive and, if she was, what was happening to her. She had to imagine that she was unharmed. While there remained that hope, there was still everything to hold on to.
The image of Lola Evans’s body still hadn’t left Alex’s mind. When she closed her eyes at night, the young woman’s water-ravaged face was the last thing she saw before eventually drifting into sleep. They couldn’t help her, but they could still help Sarah.
‘If it wasn’t Rachel who sent that text to Connor then who did?’ Chloe said, dragging Alex from her dark thoughts.
Alex shook her head. ‘Don’t know. The phone’s untraceable – pay as you go. Rachel admitted she’d known about Connor’s affair with Sarah for a while, but I don’t know what she’d have to gain from lying about the text.’
‘You spoke to her?’
‘Yeah. She seems scared of her own shadow. I don’t know. I don’t reckon she’s the type to lie to the police, although it takes all sorts.’ Alex pulled into a side street that housed a row of terraces and a village hall at the far end. ‘This is it,’ she said, stopping by the kerbside. ‘Tim Cole’s empire.’
She shot Chloe a roll of the eyes and Chloe smirked.
‘She did say something a bit odd though,’ Alex said, undoing her seatbelt.
‘Rachel?’
‘Yeah. She said Connor was supposed to be helping them not luring them into bed. Timid as she is, she sounded pretty angry about it.’
‘Luring?’ Chloe repeated. ‘Bit predatory, isn’t it?’
‘Exactly.’
They needed something concrete against Connor, and they needed it soon. The more time that passed, the less chance they had of finding Sarah Taylor alive. The majority of the blood found at The Black Lion had belonged to Lola, yet the second sample was still unaccounted for. Someone other than Lola had been injured there; hopefully, the man who had held them captive. Alex had to take her own advice and continue to believe Sarah Taylor was still alive.
The reception they received from the majority of group members suggested Alex and Chloe hadn’t been expected. Why it should have come as a surprise that the police might show up to the meeting was something Alex was unable to fathom: one of their group was dead and another was missing. It seemed fairly obvious that the police would make an appearance.
There were only three members of the group there that evening: Tim Cole, Sean Pugh and Carl Henderson. The cold village hall was made colder by the sombre atmosphere that greeted DI King and DC Lane as they entered through the creaking main doors. Tim Cole was as overpowering as ever, offering tea and biscuits as though both officers had just popped in for a cuppa and a catch-up.
‘I thought of cancelling… you know, under the circumstances, but then thought maybe it was better we try to keep things as normal as they can be. What’s happened to Lola, now Sarah, I can’t believe it. We wanted to pay our respects in some way, get together to remember them.’
Alex caught Chloe’s eye and shot her a look. Christ, the man was laying it on thick. They had told him not to give any indication that he had known the police would be attending that evening. They had told him to act normal. If this was his interpretation of that then it was a miracle anyone ever made a second visit to the group. It was almost as though Tim Cole thought he was now working alongside the police, like some undercover agent. Was he so arrogant that he didn’t realise he was under suspicion too?
Alex scanned the room. A young tattooed man met her eye briefly before glancing down at his hands. The second man seated was older, broad-shouldered and with the kind of physique that almost managed to masquerade fat as muscle. His expression bore a mixture of anger and boredom and when his gaze fell upon Alex she could feel the contempt it carried.
Had she looked upon the young women’s killer since entering this hall? Had one of these men been responsible for the injuries inflicted on Lola Evans? Was it one of these men who had taken Sarah?
‘Are there usually this few of you?’
Tim shook his head. ‘Connor’s usually here, but…’ He trailed off, silently acknowledging the futility of his words. Everyone knew that Connor was currently still in custody. ‘No sign of Rachel tonight.’
‘Rachel Jones?’ Chloe asked. ‘We’ve spoken with her.’
Tim raised a questioning eyebrow, but neither Alex nor Chloe was going to offer him any further details on the conversation that had taken place with Rachel.
Alex scanned the room once more. Just being in that hall was enough to make anyone depressed. It was bloody freezing in there: she’d glimpsed a radiator as they’d entered the room, but it was colder than the air outside, and the electric heater set up to the side of the seating area was doing little other than choke out the smell of burning dust. How this environment was conducive to supporting anyone’s anxiety was a mystery.
‘Is Rachel OK?’ Tim ventured.
‘Fine. Under the circumstances, she’s decided to stay vigilant.’
The implication of Alex’s words wasn’t missed by any of the men in the room. If there was a time to spot a suspect – the slightest flicker of guilt – perhaps now, while they were there amongst one another, would be it.
Tim was shaking his head silently, as though attempting to comprehend all that had happened. Was he too responsive? Alex wondered. Too good to be true? Perhaps all this do-gooder persona was little more than an act, though an elaborate and effectively executed one.
Alex took a chair from the side of the room and joined the small circle of men. Chloe followed. Carl Henderson folded his beefy arms across his chest and regarded Alex with contempt. Sean Pugh’s eyes flickered from the hands still linked in his lap to Chloe, seemingly distracted by her. Ignoring the looks, Chloe pulled her chair alongside Tim’s and sat down.
‘Each of you knew Lola Evans, is that right?’
Sean Pugh met Alex’s eye as he nodded. Carl Henderson gave a grunt, but his focus remained on the far wall.
‘Sarah Taylor?’
The second name received a similar response.
‘Did any of you have any involvement with either woman beyond this group?’
The question was met with shakes of heads.
‘Connor Price. Any of you know him beyond this group?’
‘He was shagging Sarah, we all know that much.’ Sean Pugh shrugged when Tim Cole shot him a look. ‘What? Don’t pretend you didn’t know what was going on. It was obvious.’
‘Did you ever say anything to either of them about it?’ Alex asked.
Sean shook his head.
‘Why do you come to these meetings?’
Sean looked taken aback by the question. Clearly this was one subject he thought might remain untouched. They needed to know why each of these men was there. It seemed to Alex that not everyone in attendance was necessarily struggling with anxiety.
Alex sensed an objection from Tim Cole and raised a hand to silence him. ‘I’m investigating a murder,’ she reminded him. ‘Privacy is a privilege, I’m afraid, not a right.’ She returned her attention to Sean. ‘I want to know why each of you comes to these meetings. And I want to know where you were on Friday night.’ Based on the time between the two boys seeing Sarah Taylor at the pub and the search that had taken place there two days later, it seemed likely that whoever had been holding her there had moved her on Friday. ‘I’ll be checking up on everything later, so let’s not waste time by telling lies. Why are you here, Sean?’
The young man ran a hand over his face, his sleeve of tattoos flashing at Alex. ‘I’m on probation,’ he told her, his hands twisting in his lap. ‘I’ve been to prison before for car theft. It’s one of the things I’m supposed to do to keep from going back in.’
That would be easy enough to confirm, Alex thought. She wondered if car theft was this young man’s only crime.
‘Where were you on Friday?’
‘At home. I’m
back staying at my mother’s; she was there.’
Alex turned to the third person, a bull of a man who had sat glaring at her the whole time she had been speaking, his bottom lip protruding slightly like a child contemplating a full-blown tantrum.
‘Carl Henderson?’
The man nodded in acknowledgment of his name.
‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t exactly seem the type to attend an anxiety and depression support group.’
‘You saying I’m a murderer?’
Alex pulled a face. ‘I didn’t say that.’
The room was awkwardly silent. Sean Pugh distracted himself by picking dry skin from his elbow. Carl Henderson grimaced at Alex, the look enough to curdle the milk in Tim Cole’s cup of tea.
‘Could you please tell us when you started attending these meetings, Mr Henderson, and why you started coming here?’
Carl folded his large arms across his chest. ‘April.’ He held her eyes, defiant.
‘Why?’
Carl shrugged. ‘Something to do.’
Alex’s lip curled. She glanced at Chloe, who had been watching Carl Henderson with fascination. ‘That’s it? Something to do?’
Carl gave another shrug.
‘Friday. Where were you?’
‘Work. Pulse, the club in Ponty. I work the doors.’
‘You must get to meet a lot of women that way?’
Beside Chloe, Tim Cole’s face had reddened so deeply he looked as though he might spontaneously combust. He looked imploringly at Chloe, willing her to say something to Alex. She gave him a shrug, mirroring Carl Henderson’s nonchalance.
‘S’pose so,’ Carl finally responded.
Alex pushed her chair back. ‘We’ll be looking into the things you’ve told us, so don’t be surprised if you hear from us again soon. In the meantime, you’re all required to attend the station for DNA testing.’
Tim Cole followed Alex and Chloe from the building.
The Girls in the Water: A completely gripping serial killer thriller with a shocking twist (Detectives King and Lane Book 1) Page 14
