Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sleep was a ghost that didn’t visit me during the night.
I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about Daniel and Cavan, the Aberwyn girls and knives with serrated blades.
I slipped into that purgatory between sleep and restlessness, where dreams are too real and slip into the realm of reality, the brain processing pieces of a jigsaw but unable to fit them together.
At five o’clock, I was out running, a quick five kilometres before a hot shower, then the drive into work.
I was in the office before six-thirty, sat before a monitor with a coffee that was lacking on the counts of both heat and caffeine.
I dropped Vinny a text, asking him to pick me up something decent from the coffee shop round the corner on his way in, knowing he’d comply else he’d have the day from hell.
I’d passed on the information Atlas had provided about Sophie Linwood, and we already had an address. A patrol car had gone past her house a couple of times during the night, noting no disturbances, and Wrigley had made the decision that we’d wait until morning to speak to her.
Vinny brought coffee and few words, for which I was grateful. He’d not slept well either, but that was because his neighbours had spent the night arguing, and the walls were single brick and cut out nothing.
“I debated arresting them, but they stopped with the rowing.” He slurped his extra-large coffee, double strength. He’d bought the same for me, clearly too tired to try to wind me up by getting me a smaller size.
“So you did get some sleep then?”
“No, because then they made up, and that was worse. She was loud, Mac, really, weirdly loud.”
“I don’t feel like I need any more information on this.
Let’s speak to Sophie and tell her to keep her wits about her.
” The dread hanging around the pit of my stomach was negating the need to nab one of Vinny’s cinnamon rolls.
“And see if she knows anything about who Kelly-Anne Marsh turned out to be.
Sophie Linwood, nee Davies, lived in a pretty semi-detached on a new estate in Chadderton. The garden was neatly tended, the car on the drive four years old but looking a lot cleaner than mine, and the curtains at the window looked neat and almost traditional.
We knocked on the door, confident that we weren’t waking anyone, and that someone was in.
A man wearing painter’s overalls answered, clean socks standing out against paint splattered whites. He looked closer to forty than thirty, his face ruddy and rough with stubble and marked skin.
“Hello?”
I showed him my ID. “I’m Detective Sergeant McAllister and this is DS Vinny Leigh. Is Sophie Linwood home?”
“No. She left for work a couple of hours ago. Why? Is she in trouble?” He looked alarmed, which was understandable.
“Not as far as we know, but we do need to speak to her.”
He nodded, opening the door wider. “Do you want to come in?”
I nodded, following him through the door, Vinny behind me, into a neat, tidy living room with a medium sized TV, comfy looking sofa with plumped cushions and no sign of any children.
“Are you her husband?” Vinny asked, also taking in the room.
“I am. We’ve been married six years. She probably deserves a medal.” He didn’t sit down, which wasn’t surprising as his overalls did not match the cleanliness of the house.
“Where does she work?” I asked. “We believe she’s a nurse.”
“She is. Northern Acute Care Trust – the old North Manchester Unit, if you know it. She works in the operating theatre for cardiac patients.” The pride he had was evident. “She’s brilliant.”
I nodded, managing a genuine smile. “Has she reported hearing from an old friend recently, do you know? And sorry, what’s your name?”
“I’m Mike Linwood. I haven’t heard her mention anyone – she did say she knew those women who’ve been killed though. That’s freaked her out.” He rubbed his hands against his thighs as if he was drying them off.
“Was she in touch with any of them, do you know?” Vinny asked, looking at the photos on the fireplace. They were all of Mike with a woman, who I was going to assume was Sophie. Wedding photos, then one of them on holiday, another a selfie that looked like they were lost in each other.
I thought about my most recent failed relationship and wondered whether I’d ever have a selfie taken with a man who looked at me like that.
“No. I don’t think she was. I’m pretty sure she’d have mentioned it.
” He shifted his weight from foot to foot.
He was a big bloke, easily six three or four, and broad with it, but he looked like a timid teenager right now.
“I’m older than Soph, and I’m definitely punching well above my weight, so you might not believe me, but Soph’s my best friend and I tell her pretty much everything, and I think she does the same with me.
She told me she knew them as girls when they were twelve or thirteen and they were on holiday in Wales somewhere. ”
“Did she mention a girl called Kelly-Anne?” Those threads were being pulled again.
Mike nodded. “She did. She felt bad about Kelly-Anne because they all picked on her. Soph said she was overweight and awkward, and a couple of girls were really mean to her. Soph said she felt guilty because she didn’t stop it and kind of joined in, mainly because she was scared they’d turn on her if she didn’t.
She felt bad about that.” Mike shrugged.
“Girls can be bloody awful though, can’t they?
They have enough with men being arseholes, but then they stir it between themselves.
I’ve got two daughters and they can be right little devils to each other. ”
“The girls don’t live with you?” There was no sign of them, even in photos.
“They stay every weekend, pretty much. Their mum lives in Knutsford – her husband’s loaded – so they go to school there.
They’re doing well and we get on with their mum and their step-dad.
No point not doing, is there?” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked even more awkward.
“Sophie can tell you more though. She’ll be in work now though, and if she’s in surgery, you might not be able to get her till she’s out. ”
I braced myself for how I was going to phrase this and opted for bluntness. “We think someone’s targeting that group of girls, and Sophie could be in danger.”
He looked puzzled, as if he was struggling to process it.
There was also the chance that Sophie was our killer, although that wasn’t the way the threads were pulling.
“How long have you thought this?” He tapped his foot. “Why’re you only here now?”
“Not long. We’ve had patrol cars coming by every couple of hours overnight.
You might want to check your alarm system, or consider getting one, and maybe helping Sophie take extra precautions,” Vinny said, looking thoughtful.
“I know it sounds a bit useless, telling you that, but I’m not sure what else there is to say. ”
Mike shrugged looking at the photos on the mantlepiece. “It is what it is. Will you let her know? At the hospital. I can call her but if she’s in surgery she won’t have her phone with her.”
“How about you call the ward and let them know. They can keep an eye out but if she’s in surgery, she’s safe.
We’ll head up there and ask to speak to her.
” It felt urgent now, we needed to let her know to take precautions, have someone walk her to her car at the end of her shift – does she usually come straight home? ”
“Usually. She is tonight – we’ve got friends coming round for a Chinese.” He looked at the photos again. “My van’s in the garage so I’ve got a mate picking me up. I’ll get dropped off at the hospital and meet her there after her shift. She won’t be on her own till you tell us it’s safe.”
The truth was; it would never be safe. Even after we’d caught the person who’d killed five of the Aberwyn girls and probably Charlie Mason, there would still be people around who meant to cause harm, needed it to get their kicks.
“We’ll head there now.” Vinny pulled his card out of his pocket. “Here’s my details. Any concerns, just call me or the land line number on there.”
“Thank you, mate. I hope I won’t need it.”
It was a fifteen-minute drive to the hospital, but we did it in ten, Vinny turning sharply around side roads like he was being pursued by a mobster in a supercar.
I made it there in one piece, my stomach stuck somewhere in my throat, and my lungs lacking oxygen, but still in one piece. “You’re not driving back to the office.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re a psychopath and not safe on the roads.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my driving.”
“That’s blatantly untrue.” I checked the map of the hospital for cardiology, a waft of antiseptic and trauma blasting through the entrance when the automatic doors opened. “Time to show off your navigating skills on foot. Which way do we go?” I pointed at the map.
“To the help desk and get someone to take us. This place is like a maze; it must be a dementia test.”
“One you’re not passing. I’m impressed you’re asking for directions. I didn’t think your male pride would allow that.” In times of stress, poking Vinny the bear was good relief.
“I’m only asking if it’s a cute nurse.”
“I suggest you stay away from sleeping with members of the medical profession. May I remind you of the last time you did that?” We walked into the hospital and towards the help desk. If Sophie was in surgery, it might not be in the cardiology ward anyway.
“I’ve wiped that experience from my mind. Buried trauma.”
“I can help with that. We could try some EMDR therapy, help you recall it and process it. I can offer you some prompts – Dr Miz has been quite descriptive.” Again, Vinny was proving to be a great distraction tool.
“No, you’re okay. I’m happy to keep those memories buried.” He smiled too charmingly at a young receptionist, who blushed and looked impressed at his ID when he showed it her, asking if we could be shown where Sophie Linwood was working.