Page 22 of Watching You
When Jane finally pulled away, Salter stepped up with a box of tissues. Jane Bass grabbed a handful and wiped until her face was dry. The effect of the tears was shocking. Her swollen eyes blazed red, her cheeks were blotched, and her lips were bleeding where she’d bitten them. Someone moved a chair so she could sit before she fell. She was panting like a marathon runner and doubled over to drag more air into her lungs.
‘You have questions,’ Connie said. ‘We’ll do our best to answer them.’
Jane gulped but nodded.
‘There were all those protestors in York Place and police everywhere. It was even on TV. I’m not saying that lady who died didn’t deserve the support, but no one’s protesting for my brother. Does he matter less because he was homeless?’
‘Homeless isn’t who he was, it’s where he lived,’ Connie said. ‘We haven’t updated you only because we’ve made no progress on your brother’s case. Usually when progress is slowit’s because of a lack of forensic evidence. In Archie’s case, there’s too much. It’s a regular problem with people who move around, frequently stay in hostels, and use second-hand clothes and bedding. We haven’t found a weapon and there were no witnesses. We’ve canvassed the local homeless community to ascertain if Archie was having trouble with anyone in particular, but those enquiries also proved negative. By all accounts, your brother was an amiable man who kept himself to himself and who had no known enemies on the streets.’
‘So … what are you going to do? Is that it?’
‘No. That’s just the start but I won’t tell you it’s going to be easy. Figuring out motive is key,’ Connie said.
‘It does seem to me that we’ve failed to provide you with the support you need,’ Overbeck interjected. Her voice was soft and Connie noted that the long nails had been deposited in pockets. ‘I apologise on behalf of Police Scotland for not liaising with you closely enough. Your brother is as much a priority as any other victim of crime. We have no other agenda than to ensure his murderer is brought swiftly to justice. Why don’t you come to my office? I’ll have someone bring us a pot of tea and some biscuits. We can talk privately there.’
Jane stood, gripping a desk for support as she found her feet.
‘Okay,’ she muttered. ‘I’m … I’m sorry I hit you. I didn’t even know I was going to do that.’
Connie stepped forward and took her by the hand, gripping it hard as she leaned in to whisper in her ear. ‘Don’t apologise. It was the only thing you had left. When men hit, it’s usually because they hate. When women hit, it’s often because they love. You were entitled to wake us up.’
Overbeck escorted Jane out of the room and along the corridor towards her office. No one spoke until they were out of hearing distance.
Baarda returned to his place at the back of the room, folded his arms and leaned against a desk. Salter took up Overbeck’s position at the door, making sure it was firmly shut. Connie sighed and looked up at the board where she’d pinned the additional photos of the victims.
‘Why no progress in any of these cases?’ she asked. ‘What are we missing?’
‘There’s less to go on forensically than we’re used to,’ Salter said. ‘It’s become a pattern of late. Everyone’s watching those police investigation documentary series, so all the drug dealers and robbers have started leaving their mobile at home meaning we can’t trace their movements. There’s been a real uptick in purchasing latex gloves. Even teenagers stealing bikes are careful not to leave traces these days.’
‘We just have to double our efforts,’ Connie said. ‘Let’s go back to the beginning. Find me someone who was in contact with Dale Abnay shortly before his death. That should be possible given he was in employment. And someone spend more time with Jane Bass when she’s finished with the superintendent. I want a history of Archie’s regular hangouts. As for Divya Singh, put together a map of possible vehicular routes away from the place where she was killed. At some point that car passed a CCTV camera, and if it didn’t, the killer either ditched it or made it home. There’s no such thing as no evidence. We just have to look a bit harder.’
Chapter 20
Two Years Earlier
The canvas that Mol had intended to be full of light and blossoms had turned into a muddy mess. She’d mixed in too much red and been clumsy with the tree line, at which point her foreground figure had been thrown into shade and by then she was simply wasting paint. She quit and began cleaning her brushes instead. Her mobile started to ring, and while she hated to be bothered, it was the music fromGrey’s Anatomythat signified her mother was calling – their not-so-subtle private joke from long evenings in front of the TV with cheese and crackers, commiserating over how few doctors in real life were as dreamy as McDreamy.
Mol grabbed a towel then answered.
‘Hey Mum, you okay?’
‘I am, but I just wanted you to know there’ll be a delivery there momentarily. They need a signature. I didn’t want you to be concerned if there was a knock at the studio door, sweetheart.’
‘You gave them the code?’ Mol asked, gripping the towel hard enough to make her knuckles ache.
‘I did, and you don’t have to answer the door unless they get it right. I don’t want you stressed, you hear me?’
‘I’ll be okay, Mum, but thanks for calling to let me know. I can hear a car pulling up. That’ll be them. Gotta go.’
‘Message to let me know you’re okay?’
‘I will. Love you.’ Mol rang off and took her rape alarm from her bag together with one of her mother’s scalpels. She put the rape alarm in her pocket and kept the blade in her left hand, tucking her fear away where it didn’t stop her living her life and forcing herself to act as if everything was normal.
Standing half behind the studio door, she opened up but left the two chains on, staying far enough back that no one could reach a hand inside to grab her. Outside was a young man, his moustache little more than a line of fluff, looking flustered.
‘You have the code?’ she asked.
‘Shit, yeah, er, I’ve got it in my pocket. Give me a sec.’ He started rooting through his overalls and finally pulled out a scrap of paper. ‘I taste a … sorry miss, what’s the word?’ He turned the crumpled paper towards her.
