Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty-Three
The office was abuzz when I returned, scrapbooks in hand, but not because we had a connection between the four women, but because Lachy and Nick had arrested Dean Hobson on nothing less than suspicion of murder.
I stood there, clutching the scrapbooks to my chest like the clever girl in the class who’s been stood up for a joke.
Vinny saw me, returning to the office from the room next door, where we could watch a suspect being interviewed. He looked me up and down, frowning. “What’ve you got?”
I knew I was scowling. “Something that’s clearly not useful anymore – why’ve we arrested him?”
Vinny plonked his arse on my desk. “He has at least ten user names that he trolls women on, leaving threats and other shit on their social media posts; he’s done eight months inside for an assault on a woman; he’s sent threatening messages on Evelyn’s, Morgan’s and Brooke’s reels, and at the moment, he has no alibi – he wasn’t online during long periods of time when we believe the three women were killed. How does that suit you?”
“It’s circumstantial at best.”
“He’ll crack. Nick’s also found he has a lock up near Rivington Pike – we’ve got a team going up there now.” Vinny folded his arms. “He’s as squirrelly as fuck, hates women. Lives in a bedsit and earns money through investing in BitCoin.”
I put the scrapbooks down on my desk, elbowing Vinny in the rear to get him to shift.
“Look at these.” I opened the scrapbook that had the most photos, turning quickly to the page with the photo of the seven girls, Morgan in a T-shirt and cut-off shorts, Evelyn wearing a cropped top and tiny skirt, the others somewhere in between, apart from Kelly-Anne, who was in sweatpants that were too tight and a T-shirt that had a stain on it.
She was overweight and unhappy, her glasses cheap and thick lensed.
“Kelly-Anne?” Isn’t that the same as the girl in the hospital with Charlie Mason?” Vinny frowned at me.
I nodded. “It’s the same name, but hospital Kelly-Anne was admitted because of a severe eating disorder. Hospital Kelly-Anne allegedly died too.”
“People change, although coming back from the dead’s a bit tricky. What about the boys?” He started to look through the scrapbook, probably noticing all the things I’d taken in.
“There’s a scrapbook for each summer she was at Aberwyn.
Some of the boys appear in all of them, only two of the girls do.
It’s the summer when Morgan would’ve been thirteen.
But there has to be a connection, Vin. And we need to identify Sophie and check to see if Kelly-Anne is dead because anyone can place an obituary – if someone’s got a grudge against the girls then they could be at risk.
” It was there, that instinct that this was it, we were on the right track, but in the interview room downstairs someone was being interviewed already.
“You think it’s connected to social media and someone who’s an incel.
What if it’s both – what if it’s one of these boys? ”
Dean Hobson didn’t look especially pleased when I walked into the interview room with Vinny, carrying the photo of the seven girls.
“I’m DS Mia McAllister and this is DS Vinny Leigh. We wanted to ask you about where you spent your holidays growing up.” I watched him as he appraised me, a long, slow look and then a glare.
“Well, we know how you got the job, don’t we?”
I sat down opposite him, my brief to get as far under his skin as possible. “A degree, a master’s degree, seven years as a DC and I passed my sergeant’s exams. How did you get your job?”
He spat on the floor. I didn’t flinch; I’d seen much worse as a four-year-old and it was surprising what you remembered from that age.
“Where did you spend your summers, Dean?”
He stared at me, saying nothing.
“If you can give us a few answers, it’ll help you to prove you didn’t do the things we’re asking you about.” I kept my voice quiet, almost lady-like.
He continued to stare at me.
“Did you know someone called Dolly, Dean? Maybe as teenagers?”
He looked at his solicitor, the poor bugger who’d been on duty when Dean had been arrested. I’d worked with him before, and he was a good bloke, efficient and supportive, and did his job well. “I’m not speaking to that femoid.”
I practically saw Vinny’s ears prick up and a glimmer flicker over his face. This was gold for him, an opportunity to legitimately tear Dean a new one.
“See how she’s looking at him. Fucking femoid Stacey, always looking out for a new cock.” He spat again.
Vinny stood up. “But not yours. And that’s your problem because you’re such a self-pitying, shit-filled loser no woman will look sideways at you, and rather than have a good look at yourself like a real man would do, you blame them.
You think you have a God-given right to have a woman to fuck, but you don’t.
” He folded his arms, his shoulders broadening.
“Not answering the questions Detective Sergeant McAllister is asking you is making you look like you killed those women and you know where Evelyn Smith is. That you have her somewhere. It isn’t helping your case. ”
“I’m not answering the femoid.” Dean looked slightly intimidated, probably not as much as Vinny hoped though.
“So answer me. Where did you go on holiday when you were a kid?” He sat down next to me, leaning a little over the table.
Dean stared at him, his rather podgy frame stopping any chance of him looking threatening.
“Spain. Every year. The girls were the same there. Wastes of space unless they were on their back.” He fixed his eyes on me again.
“Do you know anyone called Dolly?” If Vinny’s glare could bore holes in someone, Dean would be transparent now.
“No.”
“Do you know Evelyn Smith?”
“She’s that bint who thinks she’s entitled to show her face everywhere just because she’s whoring herself out to a footballer. He’s a cunt as well. Waste of space, just because he can kick a ball.” His words were sneers.
“Have you ever commented on one of her posts?” Vinny kneed me under the table, a signal for me to take over.
“Yeah. Someone needs to tell her what she’s worth. Classic Stacey flex with all her worth in her face and her arse.”
It was almost word for word what he’d left on her social media post.
“What about Brooke O’Hara, Dean?” I kept my tone like that of a sweet, compliable female. “Did you leave her any words of wisdom?”
He almost hissed at me. “Did I not tell you not to speak to me?”
“You didn’t actually tell me anything. You refused to speak to me. Did Brooke or Evelyn ever respond? Did someone ever comment back? How did you take it, Dean, when Brooke gave it back? Called you an incel prick, and she’s right, isn’t she?” I stood up now, missing the gob of saliva he sent my way.
“Fuck off, bitch!” He stood up, lunging towards me, the table in the way.
Vinny got to his feet, seeing the possibilities of an opportunity to have a bit of rough and tumble.
The duty solicitor also got to his feet, putting his hands on his client’s shoulders and pushing him down on the chair with ease. “Sit down and stop spitting.” He looked at us. “I’d like half an hour with my client.”
I looked at Vinny, gave him an almost imperceptible nod. We exited to the sound of Dean starting to sob.
“It isn’t him.” Vinny paused as soon as we were a few paces away from the interview room. “He wants people to think it is then he can ride on the reputation, but he doesn’t know a thing about the murders.”
“What’s changed your mind? You were convinced half an hour ago.”
“If he’d done it, he would’ve been bragging about it. But I don’t think he’s got the guts to do anything more than post anonymously. Let’s go and see what we can do about finding out about those other two girls.”
“Don’t you remember when you pretended you didn’t like that boy? Evelyn, do you remember what you did?”
Evelyn looked through eyes that were dazed and confused, her brain on a different planet, rudely awakened from something that wasn’t sleep. She hurt all over, and she was cold and damp and there was hardly any light in here.
“Do you remember? You told me Lennon liked me. You said he thought I was really pretty and he didn’t mind about my weight. Do you remember telling me that?”
“No. I don’t remember. No. I promise I don’t.” Things were coming back now. Before, a day ago or maybe a week, Evelyn didn’t know what time or day it was now. Her phone and watch were gone, her clothes too, just an old, smelly blanket to keep her from freezing.
“I remember it. I remember waiting for him at the jetty that evening, hoping he’d be meeting me there like you told me, so I’d got all dressed up and tried to put on make-up and he didn’t show up. Because he’d never said he would. You’d made it up so you could laugh at me.”
There were tears now, sobs. Evelyn remembered this from before. Her captor wasn’t right in the head, she needed help. The question was, who was going to give it?
More shouting, more insults. Evelyn pulled the blanket round her tighter, huddling into it.
Suddenly it went silent. Still. Calm.
Then, movement. Difficult to see in the dark, so she didn’t see the blade coming to her, straight into her chest and then pain, searing strikes of red hot heat and the sound of her own scream filling the small brick building where she’d been held captive.
The screams didn’t last long. The darkness smothered them.