Chapter 13 #2
“Well enough. I have about twelve half siblings, including the man I thought was my dad. He’s currently doing eighteen to twenty for murder, and I doubt he’ll see outside again.
His health’s not good. Carla died when I was seventeen of a drug overdose.
Stan’s interest in me was kind of genuine.
He is bothered about his kids, and he’s proud that a few of us have gone to university.
” I sighed, uncomfortable. “He isn’t what you think he’s going to be.
He’s hates violence against women and children, believes in manners, and doesn’t get his hands dirty.
He has a code that he works to – one that benefits him and his minions – but if someone doesn’t follow his code, they know about it.
” I was aware of how they found out about it, and that they soon forgot what’d happened, one way or another.
“I get why that’s been kept quiet. This email today – does it ring any bells with your father?” Nick was staying focused on the case, rather than me, which was what I wanted.
“No. Leeds isn’t Stan’s patch. If he leaves the Manchester postcodes he has a nosebleed. He’s never expanded business beyond here, other than into Anglesey, which was where Carla lived with me, and that was historic – some link to Dublin. He once told me he’d rather not get greedy.”
“When’s the last time you saw him?” A pigeon almost landed on Nick’s knee.
“Two years ago. He needed an operation to remove a tumour – he’s recovered fine – and asked to see all of his kids beforehand. I haven’t visited him since – I won’t go and see him in a prison.” I was adamant about that. “The last thing anyone needs is the media getting hold of this.”
“Agreed. The email refers to another stabbing, but man – I’ll ask for the casefile, and we’ll let Wrigley know. Do you have any gut feeling about any connection?” Nick kept his gaze ahead, watching the homeless man as well.
“Not yet. But we should check that report. Stan isn’t in the habit of feeding me information. He isn’t a fan of me being police.” Half an understatement.
“What about Atlas. Would that name mean anything to you?”
“No. I’m drawing a blank with the numbers too.
I assume ‘echo’ means that it’s someone just echoing back the information.
They aren’t involved. But could it be our killer?
” Which was what was bothering me most. “I’m the same age as the victims, or thereabouts.
What if he’s fixed on me for some reason and it does have to do with Stan or something Stan’s done.
That’s a possibility which would knacker the incel theory. ”
“I don’t think it’s the killer. I’ve nothing to prove that, but I’m pretty sure it’s an informant. And this isn’t going to be the last time they contact you, Mia.” He stood up, crushing his sandwich wrapper in his hand. “God, that was full of grease. I’ll need to wash my hands when we get back.”
The media was brimming with the return of the Manchester Push-Her, as the headlines had it, when I met Lucy for dinner after work the following day.
We were creeping forwards slowly, amassing intelligence and data, but not having any clear connections as of yet.
I’d spent a day looking through reports of attempted sexual assault, pulling them off the NICHE data management system, and data trawling CAD reports, calls to the police.
I was looking for pull on a synapse somewhere, a link that opened a new pathway for a possible one or two suspects, still considering the joint killers.
I’d almost ignored the email after passing it onto Wrigley. He’d read it, and then asked me to forward to him, then leave it with him. I was only too happy to, and he’d said nothing to the rest of the team, for now, at least.
“Are you still okay for the party at ours on Friday?” Lucy didn’t look up from the menu, even though I was pretty sure she had it memorised, given how often she ate here.
We were in Didsbury at a cute Italian, just round the corner from her apartment. It was an easy location and didn’t require much effort, full of trendy parents still trying to have a life, and young professionals, terminally renting, so choosing to stay at least in a place they liked.
“It’s your place, so it’s your call.” I could probably do without it, if I was being honest. It would be Lucy’s friends, who I knew pretty well by now, and Cavan of course, and given this week was going to be full on with the double murder enquiry, I’d probably just want to sleep Friday night and wake up having to step over the bodies of teachers and trainee solicitors who’d stayed over after having one too many. “I can always stay at Verity’s.”
She pulled a face. “But then that’s not fair on you. We haven’t had a gathering at ours for ages, and I really want you to enjoy it.”
The echoes of guilt rattled through my ears. “And I’m sure I will. It’s something to look forward to.” And it would take my mind off who my pen pal could be.
Her expression morphed into one of pure bliss. She sat up straighter. “Good. I’ll sort everything and do the clean up on Saturday, so you don’t need to worry about anything. And Cavan will be around.” Her smile was too forced, her eyes not showing it.
“I need to phone him, actually. I’ll give him a call this evening.” I hadn’t really been in touch much beyond a couple of texts since Saturday afternoon.
“How are things between you?”
“Okay. No change really. We have fun when we’re together.
” I wasn’t sure what else to say. I’d told my foster sister, Heidi, more when I spoke with her briefly, that I wasn’t sure I was putting enough into it, and he was a nice guy who was very pretty, but something had felt off on Friday.
Heidi had suggested I bin him off and find someone at the gym, which made me think of Jalen, but I’d been thinking of Jalen for years and never done anything about it.
“He’s a nice guy. You don’t spend loads of time together though. Why’s that?”
I wasn’t in the mood to discuss this with Lucy, as well meaning as she usually was. “I don’t have the time. I’m not like you with a holiday every seven weeks and no weekend shifts.”
“True. I couldn’t do your job. I took a taxi back from Manchester today instead of getting the tram because they’re saying online for women in the area to be extra vigilant.
Do you think that was wise?” She closed her menu and placed her elbows on table arranging her arms so she looked like she was interviewing me.
“You should always be extra vigilant, but I don’t think you need to think you’re the next victim.
” Although if we were looking at someone who affiliated themselves with the incel ideology, Lucy would be categorised as a Stacey, attractive and would consider unattractive men beneath her.
She had an online profile, although it was kept private with her being a teacher, but then there was a separate profile where she, a bit like Brooke, did the whole ‘get ready with me’ reels, which got her a few samples to try out.
They were a bonus for me, as she was quite happy to share.
“Avoid walking by the canals and rivers, especially if you’re meeting up with anyone new. That’s probably the most sensible advice I can give you.”
She sat straighter, her colour a little paler. “You think I could be a target?”
“At the moment, any woman could be.” We had the phone records of both women now; there had been no shared contact who they’d been in touch within the last couple of weeks, but there were too many other ways to communicate with someone.
Getting into Brooke’s social media had been easy so far, but we weren’t as far forward with Chelsea’s.
Her phone hadn’t been found, despite the area where it’d last pinged off a cell tower being searched by Jenna and her team.
So far, there was no clear connection between them, but it still didn’t feel like it was unmeditated, which suggested they’d been picked for a reason. Stalked.
Watched.
Sought out.
Like I had been with the receipt of the email. I’d text Jalen later and book another session with him.
We were going to have to look again at that email. Why me? I didn’t stand out any more than Vinny or Nick other than for being female.
“Okay. I’ll be vigilant.” She gave a shudder, looking around the restaurant. “The killer could be in here now.”
Lucy had a flair for the dramatic.
“I hope not. I’m not on duty.” Luckily the waiter came over and took our order, and the conversation moved on to the wedding she’d been at the previous weekend, and how drunk the best man had been, which I’d thought was pretty standard for a wedding.