Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
DAN
The incident room at Operation Verde the next morning is buzzing with anticipation.
Intel has come up with an address in King’s Cross – the Bull and Barrow, a notorious pub known for its links to criminal activity and the underworld.
It’s been raided more times than a dieter’s fridge at midnight over the years and it’s believed that Erin may be staying in one of the ‘guest rooms’ there.
I can only imagine what the inside of one of those looks like.
Is there even a minus rating on Trustpilot?
What did Erin mean that time when she told me on the phone that she wasn’t running from something, but running to something?
I could be wrong – and Archer seems to delight in the idea that I might be – but I think she’s planning to exact some kind of revenge on Samantha Valentine for what she believes are the myriad injustices she’s suffered at her hand.
Only if that is the case – and she’s both Erin Santos and Samantha Valentine simultaneously – then wouldn’t this mean that by default she’d be taking revenge on herself?
It could be that the sassy Samantha side of her hates these men who have somehow wronged her in her eyes – I suspect Samantha probably was stalking both her victims, and knew them in some form – but that Erin’s character is horrified and dismayed by her actions and furious at being made to take the rap for it – from herself.
I have to say, this is one absurd case – and it keeps getting stranger still.
I glance at my phone on my desk. No contact from Erin.
I doubt she’ll call again now, not if she’s seen the press conference.
I wish I didn’t feel as crappy about it as I do, but as Archer had rammed it home to me, I have to look at the facts and go where the evidence takes me.
My first priority is getting justice for Milo Harrison and his family, and ensuring public safety.
Only, I just can’t stop thinking about Erin.
‘Don’t go all left field on me on this one, Dan,’ Archer had warned me before I’d left her office.
‘Don’t keep looking for ghosts. This witness, this colleague of Santos’s you spoke to in Leeds, she couldn’t give you a name or a positive ID.
It’s all just hearsay. She’s probably been reading all the nonsense on social media.
Goodness only knows how people come up with some of the bullshit that’s written, putting two and two together and making seven hundred and fifty-seven.
It beggars belief. Too much time on their hands, if you ask me. ’
Unusually, I don’t disagree with her. A story like this makes clickbait gold. It also brings to the surface all the self-styled bedroom sleuths, journalists, conspiracy theorists, and perhaps above all, the haters.
‘And you said yourself that Dr Wainwright confirmed that Erin was on day release on the same date Ward says she met Samantha Valentine. What’s the news on Ward, by the way? Are we keeping a close eye on her?’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ I assured her. ‘She’s hardly set foot out of her apartment since we bailed her, ma’am.
Once or twice to go grocery shopping, by the looks of it.
The rest of the time the blinds are shut, no movement whatsoever.
Surveillance did see someone leaving the address this morning though, around 11 a.m.’
‘Do we know who it was?’
‘A woman, apparently, boss, a redhead.’
A redhead? My stomach had clenched when Parker had briefed me on this, earlier.
‘Send any images they have over to me now, Parker, ASAP.’I instructed him.
Could it be the same redhead I’d seen at the press conference?
The one wearing the perfume that I’m convinced is also the same as the extortionately overpriced bottle of Baccarat Rouge that we purchased in Leeds?
Incidentally, it was still lingering inside my nostrils, or the memory of it anyway.
If it is her, then it’s safe to say that the press must’ve somehow got wind of Tilly Ward’s identity, and that adds another layer of potential aggro.
Until she’s charged, I’m mindful of keeping Tilly Ward’s name – and face – out of the public eye.
‘I don’t want her hounded, Parker. Keep an eye on her – and any press who might be sniffing around.’
‘Look, Dan.’ I was about to leave Archer’s office, only she hadn’t quite finished with me yet.
At least her tone had softened slightly, sounded less irascible.
‘We’ve all fallen foul of a psychopath or two during our career at some time or another,’ she said, casting me a pitiful glance.
‘They’re notoriously clever, highly manipulative types – I don’t need to tell you that.
They’ll have you twisted up in knots, thinking black is white, some of them – that’s what they do, that’s their MO.
They try to mess with your head, gaslight you, play on your empathy, get inside your mind…
’ She tapped the side of her temple with a finger.
‘So she had you on the hook, got you searching for someone who doesn’t exist, or does, but only in her messed-up mind.
I’ve read the files, I’ve seen the statements Santos gave at the time, and admittedly, she sounds convincing enough.
But it’s all a fantasy, Riley, a picture she painted at the time and one she’s repainting now.
Even seasoned senior investigating officers like you can be taken in.
As I say, it can happen to the best of us. Don’t beat yourself up over it.’
‘I wasn’t, ma’am,’ I replied flatly.
I made to pick up the gift bag containing the perfume from her desk, but she stopped me with a raised hand.
‘Actually, you can leave that here, with me, if you like, Riley.’
‘Sorry, ma’am,’ I flashed her a rueful smile as I snatched it from her desk. ‘Like you said, Christmas is a long way off.’
My phone pings as Davis and I ready ourselves to head off to the Bull and Barrow.
A SWAT team has been deployed, largely due to the Bull and Barrow’s notorious reputation and clientele.
We don’t believe Erin is armed, but that’s not to say the occupants will welcome us with open arms either.
Some pretty nasty characters have been known to frequent that particular establishment, so the element of surprise is paramount.
Parker has sent me those images of the female seen leaving Tilly Ward’s apartment yesterday morning – the redhead.
Only, once again, it’s tricky to get a clear view of her face.
In every shot, her head is either lowered or she’s turning away in the opposite direction of the camera, almost as if she’s aware of it.
You can’t miss the glossy red hair though, and she’s wearing the same burgundy-coloured coat that she had on when I saw her at the conference.
‘We need to find out who this is, Mitchell.’ I slap the image on DS Mitchell’s desk in front of her.
‘I saw her at the press conference, and she was seen coming out of Tilly Ward’s apartment that same morning.
I think she may be a journalist. Check which publications and news crews attended the appeal, see if we can identify her and then get her on the phone if you can. ’
‘No problem, gov. Oh, by the way, boss, I wanted to introduce you to one of our new recruits, DC Adriana Ayers.’ She turns to the young-looking woman next to her.
‘This is your first assignment since qualifying, isn’t it, Adriana?’
She smiles up at me, a touch shyly. ‘And it looks as if she may have come across something interesting already.’
The twinkle in Mitchell’s eye piques my intrigue. ‘Great. Well, welcome aboard, Adriana. It’s all hands on the pump for this one.’ Frankly, we need all the help we can get.
‘Nice to meet you, sir.’ She shakes my hand firmly – always a good sign. No one likes a limp handshake.
‘Oh, don’t bother with all that “sir” nonsense, please. It’s embarrassing and it makes me sound like an old school master.’ To be fair, she doesn’t exactly look long out of school herself.
‘You know you’re getting old, son, when policemen start to look young.’ I hear my dear old dad’s voice in my head. Four years have passed since he died, and yet sometimes it feels like three days.
‘Where were you stationed before, Adriana?’
‘Nowhere, sir. I’m a graduate.’ She looks a little apologetic about this admission.
‘Fresh from college, aren’t you?’ Mitchell raises an eyebrow. ‘Hasn’t had to deal with the dregs.’
‘Oh,’ I say. She’s one of those. ‘Lucky you, then.’
These days, with a degree under your belt, you can bypass the traditional route of earning your chops in uniform and fast-track straight into a DC position – no need to pass GO.
There’s a shortage of detectives at the Met, you see – though I can’t imagine why that might be – and not everyone with a desire to do the job has had to earn their stripes ‘dealing with the dregs’ before they reach such lofty status.
For what it’s worth though, in my humble opinion, a stint in uniform stands you in good stead for a future detective role.
As a uniformed officer, you have to see and deal with all sorts – especially the ‘dregs’.
You’re the troops on the ground, the foot soldiers, and getting your hands dirty prepares you for this job more than any degree ever could.
But I’m not judging Adriana as a privileged fast-tracker, at least not just yet.
Especially since Mitchell says she has something interesting for me.
‘I’ve read through all the files, sir,’ she says, ‘all the statements. It’s quite a perplexing case.’
That’s one word for it.
‘You’ve hit the ground running with this one, my apologies.’ I smile broadly at her, clap my hands together. ‘So, what you got then?’
‘A comment on social media.’
I decide to hear her out before I let my heart sink. We’ve had nothing helpful from social media so far, no real leads. Most of what’s been written is either pure fiction, supposition, hate, or a cocktail of them all.
‘Go on…’
‘Someone made a comment on the Samantha Valentine sketch that drew my attention.’
Adriana’s shyness seems to have evaporated as she flips the screen around to show me with a confident spin of the laptop. ‘As you can see, there’s hundreds of comments, and this one was published yesterday at 16.04 GMT.’
I start to read it.
I had a best friend at prep school called Samantha Valentine back in the 80s, before my parents dragged me to the UK when I was eleven years old (I feel like it hasn’t stopped raining in 30 years – lol!).
She dumped me for a new best friend – ironically some Pom who joined our class mid-term.
(sad emoji face). I don’t remember her name, but I remember hating her for stealing my BFF at the time!
A couple of months after I moved to the UK, I found out that Samantha had killed herself.
She hanged herself from a tree, only no one really knew why.
(Crying emoji face) It was such a shock.
I knew her since kindergarten and she was just eleven years old!
(Another crying emoji). I remember her always being such a happy, sweet, fun-loving little girl – no one understood why she did it.
This isn’t her in the sketch (obvs) btw, but the name made me think of her and so I felt I had to share!
Be kind, folks, you never know what others are going through!
‘The location of the sender says, Subiaco, Perth, Western Australia.’ She looks up at me.
‘Didn’t Erin claim in one of her original statements given at the time of Radulovic’s murder, and, most recently, in your transcripts from your phone interactions with her, that Samantha Valentine’s mother lived in Australia? ’
‘Yes, that’s right, she did.’ Clearly, Adriana wasn’t lying when she said she’d read through all the statements.
A chill lightly tickles my spine.
‘So,’ – Adriana lowers her head, back to being self-conscious once more – ‘I’ve sent her a DM, asking her to get in touch.
And I also took the liberty of forwarding her Erin’s photo, the mugshot we released of her yesterday, just in the very small chance there’s a connection.
I mean, it’s probably nothing, sir, just a sad memory she has of a childhood friend she once knew, someone unrelated to the case, someone with that same name, but I think we should look into it at the very least.’