We never refer to them as accidents anymore. They’ve become incidents now.
“Yes, we know.” Robin speaks through gritted teeth. “And when all this is over with, you lot are going to be held to account.”
“Robin. You’re not doing any good. Just let the man speak.”
“At the time…” Hutton goes on, “everything did point to Joanne’s death being an accident –she was on her hen party, known to have been drinking, and there was a lack of any injuries.”
“She was on her hen party.” Robin screws his face up. “Of course she was drunk.”
“You don’t need me to tell you how well-known that area is for people under the influence falling in.”
“So why weren’t fences put up sooner?”
“Joanne was the first of seven women. However, because of those numbers of women, in such a brief space of time, and with the deaths from last year, we believe they can no longer be treated as accidents.”
“Especially when we factor in the two most recent incidents which have happened on the nearby cycle path,” Chris adds and my body slumps with the realisation that he’s referring to Lauren.
“Which is why we are here to talk to you again,” Hutton says. “To go over things and to make sure that you can’t remember anything else, no matter how insignificant you might feel it sounds.”
I notice that Robin’s fists are bunched at his sides. “I can’t fucking believe this,” he says. “Why are you back here, putting us through this again, having us rake it all up?”
“It was five months ago,” Carol adds. “I’m sure I’ve told you everything I know.”
“All I’ve got,” said Robin, his voice calmer now. “Is the memory of telling her she looked beautiful at eight pm before she left the house and then getting the phone call from Carol after they’d realised she’d gone.” His fists uncurl and his body slumps. “I don’t know what more I can tell you.”
“Was she in contact with you at all during the evening?”
“Yeah, a couple of times.” There’s a ghost of a smile on his face, which surprises me after his anger only a moment ago. I guess that’s what grief does to you. “Mostly to report on her mother’s youthful behaviour. They were like sisters, these two.”
Carol wipes a tear away. “We’d had a lot to drink that night. But there was plenty to celebrate. She had the whole of the rest of her life to live for. I’m sorry. I’m off again. I’m sick of crying. I don’t cry all the time anymore, but the tears are never very far away.”
Tears well up in my eyes too. I want to ask her. How long until you start to feel better? How long does grief feel like a physical pain? Get a grip Mark. This is feeling too close to the bone. Perhaps DI Jones was right. Perhaps I should be at home grieving with my family for Lauren, instead of immersing myself in the grief of a family who have gone through the exact same thing. Only at least Joanne wasn’t savagely beaten around the head before she drowned. I can only pray Lauren’s death was quick. I fight to regain my composure.
Hutton’s voice cuts into my thoughts. “Did anyone talk to Joanne that night? A man, maybe? Or to all of you, as a group.”
“Not really,” Carol replies. “There were seven of us. It would have been a brave man who would have approached us lot. We were quite rowdy.”
“We are really sorry to be taking you through things again,” Hutton goes on. “We’re visiting all the families again, in your situation. When the deaths originally occurred, it looked like the victims had fallen in. Now it’s looking like something else. If you can remember anything at all about the evening, it would really help us.”
“I really wish I could,” Carol says. “We were all laughing at her when she went out for some air. Calling her a lightweight.” Her smile quickly fades. “I’m her mother. I should have been looking after her. Not letting her go outside alone.”
“We’ve been through this.” Robin touches her arm now. “You’ve got to forgive yourself. Someone must have already been outside, you said.”
“We’d have noticed if she’d been followed out – we all watched her leave the building,” Carol says. “But I’m not sure how long it was before we noticed she hadn’t come back in. We were all so drunk.” She hangs her head. “God, I feel so guilty.”
“So then what happened?” My voice is so soft, I don’t even realise I’ve spoken. I’m supposed to be keeping quiet and taking notes, but I’m forever a police sergeant. I can’t help it. The families we are meeting will think I’m a right weirdo if I’m completely silent. I don’t want to give myself away though. It would complicate the whole situation if they know who I am – it would detract the focus from them.
“We still didn’t act straightaway.” Carol glances at the photograph of Joanne that I was looking at earlier. “We wasted time ringing her mobile and looking around inside and outside the pub. But we went straight up to the road, thinking she’d have gone towards the lights. Not into the darkness. Then I rang Robin to see if he’d heard from her.”
“I hadn’t heard a thing. I started trying to ring her too,” Robin looks out of the window, squinting in the light. “But her phone was going straight to voicemail.”
“How much time do you think passed between you last seeing her and calling the police?”
“At least twenty minutes.” Carol wrings her hands. “It’s horrendous enough having lost her, but to know I could have stopped it…”
“Stop it Carol. She was a grown woman.” Robin stands and walks towards the window, his voice regaining its hard edge. “Look, is this really necessary? I don’t see what good it will do now. And look what it’s doing to Joanne’s mother.”
“Whoever is behind these now eight deaths and nearly a ninth one needs bringing to justice.” I’m struggling to conceal the emotion in my voice.
“As you know,” Hutton says gently. “Joanne is now part of a murder investigation. We have to make sure no more families go through what you are suffering.”
I haven’t written anything in my notebook yet. I feel as though I’m inhabiting another person’s body today. I don’t think I have quite grasped what has happened yet. All I know is I would give anything, anything, to have Lauren waiting for me at home, waiting to pummel information from me for her next article, waiting to give me a hug, waiting for our wedding day.
“She might have been a grown woman,” Carol sniffs. “But she will always, always be my girl. You will catch him, won’t you? If someone did push her in. Then let me at him.”
“I meant what I said earlier.” Robin looks at each of us in turn. “You lot are going to pay for your inadequacies when all this is over.”
Chapter Thirty One
Becky’s Family
A dishevelled man opens the door to us.
“Seb?” Chris says. “I’m PC Chris Canvey and these are my colleagues Sergeant Hutton and Sergeant Potts.”
“Hi.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “Do you want to come in?”
“If that’s OK?” Hutton steps forward. “We won’t take up too much of your time.”
He holds the door ajar. “Becky’s friend, Caroline, is here, like you asked. I dropped her a message after you rang.”
We follow him in. The front door opens straight into a sparse lounge where a blonde woman perches on the edge of an armchair. We make our introductions as Seb leans against a sideboard and gestures for us to sit down. He’s as cool as a cucumber. In fact, he looks like he’s stoned.
“I can’t believe this has turned into a murder case.” Caroline sinks into her armchair. “As if things haven’t been bad enough.”
“You spoke to Becky that night, didn’t you?” I say. “We’ve had a look at her phone records and text messages.”
“I was worried about her.” Caroline shoots Seb a look. “She was in a terrible state and getting drunker and drunker. To be honest, she seemed that drunk, I thought it was likely she could have fallen.”
Seb looks sheepish. “If I could only change
things.” The tone of his voice doesn’t authenticate his words. “Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s not there anymore, do you?”
I want to tell him I know what he means, although I did know what I had with Lauren. I hope there was never a day that passed when she didn’t know how much I loved her. I don’t know how he lives with himself, given that they’d been rowing before Becky died. At least I got to kiss Lauren that morning and bring her a cup of tea.
“I was a bit of a lad,” Seb goes on. “All she wanted was for us to move in and to go on holiday. I wasn’t ready to commit. You know how it is. And I had financial stuff going on. I let her down.”
“Right until the very last minute.” Caroline’s voice is hard and her face is even harder. “You might as well have pushed her in that river yourself. And we won’t even get started on the money side of things.”
“I didn’t ask you here to hear this crap.” Seb stuffs his hands deeper into his pockets. “We’re supposed to be helping. See if we can come up with anything new.”
“The only thing that’s new is that you’re finally showing remorse for something. Though I suspect you’re mostly feeling sorry for yourself.”
Caroline is certainly still venomous towards him, even though it’s been months since Becky died. Seb has been proven not to be involved in her death. All he’s guilty of, as far as I can see, is being dishonest and spineless.
“I tried ringing her the next morning.” Caroline’s voice is lower now. “She wasn’t answering. I thought she’d be nursing a hangover. My partner, Nick, was going barmy with me for interfering, as he saw it, but I think I knew, in my gut, that something had happened. Especially when I heard where a body had been recovered.”
“Were you and Seb in contact at all throughout that time?”
“No. We’ve never exactly been friends, have we?” She glances at him before continuing. The air between Seb and Caroline is crackling with tension. “It was only when she wasn’t answering her phone the next day that I sent Seb a message.”
Hutton clears his throat. “We’ve established that Seb was here, and active online all night. Which means he isn’t under investigation.”
“Are you aware of any enemies Becky might have had?” I’ve still hardly written anything in my notebook.
“Apart from him?” Caroline gestures towards Seb. “He was her biggest enemy.”
“Alright Caroline. Give it a rest. My ex-wife?” Seb’s tone is still non-committal, as though he can’t be arsed. “Her ex-boyfriend? Some lass she used to work with but didn’t get on with? Everyone has enemies, don’t they? We don’t all go pushing each other into rivers though.”
“I mentioned that someone was trying to hit on her that night, haven’t I?” Caroline presses her hands together as she speaks.
“Not to me, you haven’t.” Seb stares at her, with more interest in his voice now.
“We’ll check it at the station.” Hutton looks at me as if to ensure I’m writing something down. “Can you tell us any more?”
“It’s probably nothing. She was very drunk. She mentioned that some weirdo was trying to chat her up at the bar and then kept leering at her after that. She said if he carried on, she would empty his pint over his head.”
“Was that whilst you were on the phone to her?”
“Yes. She was that way out though.”
“What do you mean?”
Caroline shrugs. “Drunk. Angry. In a bit of a man-hating state of mind.”
“Did she say any more about him?”
“Not a lot. She said a couple of times, he’s still looking. And once she called him a hoodie, whatever that’s supposed to mean. I guess he must have been wearing one.”
I look at Chris and scribble it down. “That’s really useful. We’ll follow it up.” It’s the word hoodie. Again. A moment of silence hangs between us all.
“Is that it?” Seb’s voice breaks it. “Cos if you don’t mind, I’ve things to be getting on with.”
“You’re all heart, aren’t you Seb?” Caroline stands. “You’d have made Becky’s life a misery if you’d bought that house together.” She walks to the door and looks back at Hutton and Chris. “You’ve got my number,” she says. “Please keep me posted. But don’t ask me to come here again.”
I’m wrung out. I can’t do much more today. For the first time since Lauren was killed, I want to be at home.
Chapter Thirty Two
I return to the kitchen, having taken Alysha some toast.
“Is that Mark?”
“Speaking.” I’m going to have to try and get some toast down myself as well. My appetite has gone to pieces over the last few days. I can hardly believe it’s only been seven days, it feels like seven weeks. Claire turns from the sink where she’s washing up and mouths, ‘who is it?’
“It’s Tracey from the funeral home here. I’m just letting you know that we’ve had a call from the hospital and Lauren’s ready for us to collect.”
She makes it sound as though Lauren’s waiting for them or something. This fills me with fresh misery. I still can’t believe I’m never going to hear her laugh again or feel her hand within mine. We’ve sometimes had to spend a few days apart due to work or having to attend a course, but now I’m starting to physically ache for her. It’s like a punch in the stomach. This is the longest time we’ve been apart since we met, and it’s as though she’s taken a piece of me with her. I think of the van marked Private Ambulance, which she’ll be travelling in, one of the last journeys she will make.
“Will I be able to see her?” I’ve already identified her, but suddenly I need to see her face. Perhaps I should be remembering her as she was, but I know I’ll regret it if I don’t see her again. Besides, part of me still expects her to come bounding through the door. I know, from my police training, that seeing the body can help with acceptance. The body. How can I describe her as a body? Tears stab at my eyes. I just want the pain to go away. It’s agony.
“Yes. We’ll have her ready for you. There’s the embalming process we spoke about, that will take us a little while to sort out. And is there anything you would like her to be wearing?”
“Her wedding dress.” My voice cracks as I speak. Brenda agreed with me when I suggested it. She hasn’t even seen Lauren in it. Brenda was going to attend the second fitting with her.
“It’s the only way I’ll get to see her in it.” Tears are dripping from my eyes as I struggle to get the words out. Claire peels off her rubber gloves and walks over to me. She squeezes my shoulder. I’m so glad she’s here. I couldn’t bear to be on my own.
“We’ll call you when she’s ready.” Part of me likes how Tracey speaks of Lauren as though she’s still with us. I want to keep her here for as long as we can. “Then you can come and see her.”
“Oh Mark.” Claire sits opposite me and takes one of my tear-soaked hands. “I’d give anything to take some of this pain away. To wave a magic wand and bring her back. I hate to see you having to go through this.”
I squeeze her hand. “You’ve been amazing sis. You’ve been here all week looking after me and Brenda. Eva and Will have helped with Alysha, well Eva has anyway – Will’s mostly been working. I don’t know what I’ve had done without you all. I wouldn’t have been able to keep going to work, that’s for sure.”
“Well, you know what I think about that.” Claire takes a sip of her coffee. “You should be taking time off. Though I do understand. We all have our different ways of coping with things. But according to Eva, Will’s been working more hours than ever.”
“Why? It’s not as if they need the money, is it? I thought the extra hours were so he could save to take them to Disneyland.” A sudden fury rises within me. “Will must be made of steel - how can he even think about a holiday at a time like this? I’ve not heard from him since the meeting for the funeral. Not even a text. Have you?”
“He’s messaged me to check on you. Eva reckons it’s all brought memories back from De
an being killed,” Claire says softly. “Don’t you remember how much he suffered? Especially with being there when Dean was hit.”
“With the concussion he had, I’m surprised he has much memory of it. If he hadn’t been knocked out, he’d probably have given a better description of the driver.”
I hear Alysha’s laugh from the other side of the wall. It’s good to hear. Whatever she’s watching has distracted her from our reality. I can hear Brenda moving about upstairs at last. She’s been getting up later and later each day this week. I’ve heard her up and down all night, every night since Lauren died. It’s been the worst week of my life, and hers too, no doubt.
“We’ll be able to see Lauren later on tomorrow. That’s if you want to.” I look at Claire, hoping she’ll offer to come with me.
“I’m not sure I can face it Mark. Seeing her, I mean. I’ll come with you though - maybe stay in the waiting room. You do understand, don’t you?”
“Course I do. I’ll have to pick her wedding dress up and take it to the funeral home. I reckon she’d want to be wearing it.”
Claire makes an attempt at a smile through her welling tears. “Yeah. She would want to get her money’s worth from it, if I knew Lauren at all. Typical Yorkshire woman.”
“Yeah.” There’s a moment’s silence.
“Do you want me to come with you to pick it up? I could do with getting out of the house to be honest.”
“I don’t know Claire. I can’t really take Alysha along, can I?”
“We can drop her off with Eva. I thought that was the plan anyway.”
“No. Eva’s filming the reconstruction later this morning. I’m dreading seeing it to be honest.”
“I know. Me too. Will’s got Heidi at home, hasn’t he?”
“At least he’s having a day off for a change. OK. Can you drop Alysha off for me then?”
“You’ve hardly spent any time with her Mark. It might do you both good to have that journey together in the car.”
The Yorkshire Dipper Page 18
