‘So, what are you up to?’ Josie asked.
Hopeful that Josie might agree to stick around for the evening, Zoe abandoned her intention of going home. But when she suggested seeing what was on at the cinema, Josie pulled a face.
‘No point,’ she replied. ‘I’m skint. Hey, I don’t suppose you could lend me twenty quid, just until next term?’ She took Zoe by the arm. ‘Then we could go and see a film together.’
Zoe cursed herself for having made the suggestion. She wasn’t exactly flush, and was going to have to eke out what she had left if she was going to last until the end of term. But she could hardly say she was broke when she had just suggested going to the cinema. Casting about for a way to change the subject, with a sudden flash of inspiration she jabbed Josie on the arm.
‘Look!’ she cried out.
‘Ow, what the fuck?’
‘Look there, across the road, in the brown coat. That’s her.’
‘Who?’
‘It’s the woman I was telling you about, the one who tried to abduct me. Come on, let’s not lose her. I’ve been thinking about it,’ she went on, taking Josie by the arm and urging her forward. ‘Do you think she might have been planning to sell me as a sex slave?’
‘Don’t be stupid. And sex trafficking is no laughing matter,’ Josie replied.
‘I wasn’t laughing,’ Zoe said, deflated. ‘This is serious. It wouldn’t do any harm to find out a bit more about her, anyway.’
‘How are you going to do that?’
‘We could follow her, find out where she lives, and report her to the police.’
‘Never mind the police, let’s stalk her and find out what she’s up to,’ Josie said, the cinema, and the twenty quid loan, supplanted by the new distraction.
Zoe hesitated, but she didn’t want Josie to start on about money again and, in any case, it might be fun to stalk a stranger. As long as she was with a friend, she didn’t mind getting lost.
‘Come on, then, let’s get after her. Come on, Josie. We need to hurry.’
Josie glanced at her phone. ‘I’ve got half an hour.’
‘Have you got a deadline tomorrow?’
‘God, no. I’m meeting a friend at eight.’
Zoe tried not to betray her disappointment on learning she was being used to fill in time while Josie was waiting for someone else. But in the meantime she had Josie to herself for half an hour. That gave her an opportunity to lure Josie away from whoever else she was meeting. So she didn’t admit that the woman they were following was actually nothing like the woman who had accosted her in the street.
After about five minutes, Josie stopped. ‘This is stupid,’ she said. ‘We’re just following a stranger who could be going anywhere. She might not live in York. What are you going to do if she gets in a car and drives off? There’s no point in wandering about like this. I’m going back.’
Zoe turned round with her and they retraced their footsteps in silence. When they reached a café near to Lendal Bridge, Josie suddenly darted forward and flung her arms around a girl Zoe had never seen before. While she was hesitating over whether to join them, they strode past her, arm in arm and laughing. Either Josie was ignoring her, or else she had forgotten about her. Either way, Zoe was mortified. If Josie looked back and saw her lingering on the pavement like an idiot, her humiliation would be complete, so she pushed open the door of the café and went inside. It was pleasant in there so she sat down to wait for a few minutes until she was confident Josie would be out of sight. While she was wondering how long to wait, a girl in a white apron approached her table. Zoe could hardly sit there without ordering anything so she asked for a cup of tea. It was the cheapest item on the menu. By the time she finished, she was sure Josie would be long gone. Leaving the café, she set off back to her digs.
It began to drizzle when she got off the bus so she hurried along empty streets, dodging puddles. As she was crossing her front yard, out of the corner of her eye she noticed a movement at the side of the house. Turning her head, she glimpsed a tall hooded figure stepping out of shadows. With a thrill of terror, she turned and sprinted for the corner of the street. As she ran, she conceived a vague plan of somehow finding her way to the police station. It was raining more heavily now, and the street was deserted. She kept going, panting with the exertion, and didn’t slow down until she reached the main road. Reassured by cars driving past in both directions, she looked around. The street behind her was empty.
She hesitated to return home, but she couldn’t stay out all night, and it would soon be growing dark. Fumbling in her bag, she found her phone and called her flatmate.
‘Where are you?’ she demanded.
‘Zoe?’
‘Yes, it’s Zoe. Where are you?’
‘I’m at college. Why? Has something happened?’
‘What time are you coming home?’
‘I don’t know. Later. I’m going out with some friends.’
Zoe hesitated. ‘Can I come with you?’
‘What? Where are you?’
‘I’m at home.’
‘Well, no, not really then. We’re leaving now.’
‘Where are you going? I can join you there.’
‘I don’t know. We’ll probably go back to someone’s house. Look, I’ll see you later. We can talk then. Only I’ve got to go now. Laters. Bye.’
Zoe tried to call her back but there was no answer. She made her way to the bus stop and waited for a bus to take her to the city centre. She would feel safer among other people while she decided what she was going to say to the police. But she was afraid they wouldn’t believe her. In any case, there was nothing they could do, because nothing had happened. She might have been mistaken in thinking she had seen a figure lurking at the side of the house. Even to her it seemed pretty unlikely when she thought about it now. In any case, when she had plucked up enough courage to look over her shoulder, there hadn’t been anyone there. She had been stupid to think someone had been following her.
Crossing the road, she made her way back to the flat. As she hurried along the street, she kept looking around. At the first sign of a tall figure in a hooded jacket, she would run. The streets were empty, and there was no one in her front yard. With a shudder of relief, she felt in her bag for her key. She had nearly reached the steps leading up to her front door when she heard a whisper of a breath behind her. She spun round, but she was too late. A hooded figure was blocking her path back to the street.
For an instant, anger overcame her fear. ‘What are you doing here?’ she demanded, trying to sound authoritative. ‘If you don’t leave at once, I’ll call the police.’
To indicate how serious she was, she took her phone out of her bag. Before she could switch it on, the stranger lunged forward and swiped at it, knocking it out of her hand.
‘What the…?’ Zoe began.
In the middle of her sentence she broke off at the sight of a knife in front of her face. Jerking back, she tripped on the steps. The blade slashed at her throat and pain seared through her windpipe. She was dimly aware of a horrible rushing sound in her ears as she tried to speak, but she couldn’t breathe.
45
She couldn’t have said why, but Geraldine was bothered by Lindsey’s refusal to talk to her.
‘I can’t see why you’ve got a problem with it,’ Ariadne said when Geraldine voiced her concern as they were leaving their desks at the end of the day. ‘There’s no point in taking it personally.’
Geraldine laughed to hide her irritation. ‘I’m hardly taking it personally. But she might have something useful to tell us. Besides, don’t you find it odd that she won’t speak to us?’
‘Not really. She’s hardly the first person to feel uncomfortable talking to the police. We’re not everyone’s favourite. To some people we’re no better than traffic wardens.’
‘Well, I want
to talk to her, and I’m not going to give up until I do. We know the house is rented from an ex-pat living in Spain, and our tenant paid up front for six months.’
Ariadne raised her eyebrows. ‘You have gone into it.’
Geraldine wasn’t sure whether Ariadne was impressed or amused by her tenacity.
‘But if she won’t talk to you, there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t force her to answer our questions.’
‘There never seems to be anything we can do.’
‘But seriously, Geraldine, members of the public refuse to talk to us all the time. It’s hardly unusual. I really can’t see why you’re obsessing over this woman. Why is she such a problem?’
Ian was passing through their office. Overhearing the end of their exchange, he halted, frowning. ‘Did I hear you say there’s a problem?’ he asked. ‘Anything I can help with?’
Naomi was walking behind him and she stopped as well.
‘Geraldine’s annoyed because a woman she’s been looking for has finally turned up, and won’t talk to her,’ Ariadne replied.
‘That sounds like a real problem,’ Naomi replied lightly.
But Ian frowned. ‘I don’t follow you. What’s going on?’
Although Geraldine was gratified that he was taking her concern seriously, she hesitated to repeat what was worrying her. She couldn’t explain her conviction that Lindsey might have seen something significant.
‘I can’t say why,’ she admitted, pulling a face. ‘It’s just a feeling I have.’
‘A feeling?’ Naomi repeated. ‘What do you mean, a feeling?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Don’t take any notice of me. It’s nothing.’
Ian grunted. ‘It’s not generally a good idea to ignore Geraldine’s feelings.’
Geraldine was struck by the irony of his comment, given that he was oblivious of her growing affection for him, but she merely smiled.
‘Come on,’ Naomi interrupted him, ‘let’s go for that drink.’
Geraldine couldn’t help noticing that Naomi had addressed her suggestion to Ian alone, as though she and Ian had already arranged to go to the pub together. Perhaps they had.
‘Who else is coming?’ he asked at once, as though he too had picked up on the way Naomi had appeared to exclude the others. ‘We could discuss your thoughts over a drink, Geraldine.’
‘Oh yes, do join us,’ Naomi said.
‘No, I’m off home,’ Geraldine said. ‘I’ve got some calls to make.’
That was true, although she could easily have gone for a drink first. As she walked to her car, she decided Ariadne was right. There was no reason to fret over Lindsey’s refusal to talk to her. If Geraldine was honest, what had upset her had nothing to do with Lindsey; it was the proprietorial way Naomi had spoken to Ian. Geraldine knew there was no reason for her to feel jealous. It wasn’t as though she and Ian had ever been anything other than colleagues. Any close friendship they had developed had existed only in her mind. It was just as well she had been shown how absurd she had been, in allowing herself to grow fond of him. It would have been mortifying to have revealed her feelings only to be rejected. Thinking about it on her way home, she wasn’t even sure what her feelings towards him were any more.
Reaching home, she was too dispirited to cook properly, so she looked through her freezer and took out a prepared meal. Having eaten most of it, she poured herself a second glass of wine before phoning her twin. The conversation didn’t start well.
‘What do you want?’ Helena asked.
Geraldine hesitated. There was so much she wanted from her twin. The last time they had met they had got on better than usual, and Geraldine had allowed herself to hope their relationship would steadily improve. But she suspected she might never be able to relax with her volatile twin, not knowing from one moment to the next how Helena was going to behave.
‘I just wanted to see how you’re doing,’ she replied.
‘I’m fine, thank you. How are you?’
The conversation was brief and stilted. Geraldine was pleased when she could extricate herself. Unlike Geraldine’s twin, her adopted sister sounded really pleased to hear from her.
‘It’s lovely of you to call! I know how busy you always are.’
Geraldine muttered her excuses. Celia always made her feel guilty for having so little time to spare for her family.
‘How are you? And when are you coming to see us? It’s been ages!’
It was true, Geraldine hadn’t been to visit Celia for a few months. Hearing the genuine excitement in her sister’s voice, Geraldine felt a surge of gratitude. At least someone wanted to see her. She made a snap decision.
‘I’m hoping to come over on Sunday, if you’re around?’
Geraldine tried to dismiss her frustration about Lindsey but lying in bed that night, unable to sleep, she brooded over how she might persuade the woman to speak to her. In the end, she made up her mind to return to Lindsey’s house the next day and simply insist on asking her a few questions.
Setting off early the following morning, Geraldine reached Gillygate at about seven. Lindsey was unlikely to have left the house so early, but when Geraldine rang the bell, there was no answer. She rang a second time, and knocked on the door, and rang the bell one last time, but there was no point in hanging on. She didn’t mention her concerns to anyone. She would keep trying, but had to accept she might never find out whether Lindsey had seen anything that might help the investigation. Much as she hated leaving loose ends, sometimes it was unavoidable.
46
On her way out, Jenny grabbed a bag propped against the wall by the front door waiting to be thrown in the bin outside. Her flatmate had already gone out so if Jenny ignored it the rubbish would sit there for another day. It was typical of Zoe to forget her turn on the rota. It wasn’t exactly a complicated schedule, and the bag was in the hall, so there was really no excuse for overlooking it. Irritated, she picked up the rubbish bag and stomped out of the house. Next time they saw each other, Jenny was going to complain that Zoe wasn’t pulling her weight.
The bins stood in a row by the fence. As Jenny carried the bag of rubbish across the front yard, she was startled to see someone lying on the ground, half hidden by the bins. Assuming a homeless person or a drunk had fallen asleep there, she froze. The rubbish bag slid from her grasp and landed at her feet with a soft thud. Taking a step closer, she halted with a faint gasp. The figure on the ground looked very like her flatmate, with the same curly brown hair and red jacket. In fact, were it not for the fact that the woman was lying on the ground by the bins, fast asleep or unconscious, Jenny could easily have mistaken her for Zoe. She hesitated before taking a step closer. If it was Zoe, then something must be very wrong. She appeared to have collapsed in a sozzled heap. Even if she had lost her key, she was hardly likely to have fallen asleep out there when she could have rung the door bell, or phoned Jenny. Either she had been horribly drunk, or drugged, or else she had fallen ill and passed out.
‘Zoe?’ she called out. ‘Zoe? Is that you? Are you all right? Wake up!’
She took a step closer until she could see part of the woman’s face. One glance confirmed her fears. The figure was Zoe, and she wasn’t moving. Trembling, Jenny pulled out her phone to call 999 and paused. It would be embarrassing to summon an ambulance only to discover that Zoe wasn’t ill after all but had passed out after a drunken binge the night before. As she stood there, prevaricating, it began to rain. Still Zoe didn’t stir. Jenny was already going to be late for college. With a burst of impatience, she hurried over to the body, and squatted down beside her prone flatmate.
‘Zoe,’ she called out, ‘wake up! You’re getting wet!’
Looking around, she noticed a dark pool beside Zoe’s head. It could have been blood. Swallowing a sour taste in the back of her throat, she stood up. All her instincts urged her to get away fr
om there as quickly as possible, but her legs were shaking so much she could barely stand, let alone walk. In any case, she couldn’t just go and leave Zoe lying there in the rain.
Squatting down again, she reached out gingerly to take hold of Zoe’s upper arm, and shook her. There was no response. Zoe’s arm felt strangely hard. This must be what was called rigor mortis. Jenny had come across the term, and heard people talking about it on crime series on television. There could no longer be any doubt that Zoe was dead.
Jenny began to cry. ‘Zoe, Zoe! Wake up, please!’
She had no idea how long she crouched there beside her flatmate’s body before she pulled herself together. With a loud sniff, she straightened up and took her phone from her bag. The rain was heavier now so she took off her coat and laid it on top of Zoe. It was a pointless gesture. Rain mingled with her tears as she called 999.
Giving up on college for the day, Jenny waited for the emergency services to arrive. She was shivering with cold and shock by the time a police car drew up. A young policeman walked over and hesitated when he caught sight of Zoe’s body.
‘Are you Jenny?’
He was joined almost at once by a young female officer who took Jenny gently by the arm and urged her to stand up.
‘I’m sorry you had to see this. Are you feeling all right?’ she asked. ‘Shall we go and get you a cup of tea and then you can tell us what happened here.’
Rogue Killer Page 21
