Chapter 22
SCARLETT
The police station smells of stale coffee and years of regret. The man with smooth skin and slicked-back hair at the front desk takes my details and points to the packed waiting area.
I scan the people around me. Such a mix of attitude and emotions.
A pale-faced woman with long, greasy hair cries into a tissue.
An old guy is bent forward, staring into nothingness at the floor, elbows on his knees, hands clamped together.
Another lies back in his chair, legs sprawled out in front, scrolling on his phone, seemingly totally unaffected by his surroundings.
I wonder what all these people are doing here.
What they’ve done, or what they’ve had done to them.
Detective Sergeant Tim Porter appears. I first met him when he came to visit me and Mum at her house. He’s fresh-faced and seems younger than I recall, or have I just aged in the past month? He recognises me straight away. ‘Scarlett. Come through.’
He takes me to a room with two chairs positioned for conversation rather than interrogation around a coffee table holding two plastic cups, a jug of water and a box of tissues.
He gestures to one of the chairs. ‘Please, take a seat.’ He’s a good-looking guy, late twenties, with the most gorgeous blue eyes I’ve ever seen.
‘Can I get you a hot drink?’ He gives a small laugh.
‘If you fancy one in this stifling weather. This heat’s unbearable. ’
‘No, no drink,’ I answer sharply. I can’t sit down, either. I’m here for business. I immediately regret the tone of my voice.
‘How are you, Scarlett?’ The gentleness in his voice makes me well up.
I liked him as soon as I met him all those weeks ago.
In the midst of all the despair, we both felt a connection that went way beyond what was professionally ethical for him.
A chemistry I wasn’t sure I could trust what with everything going on.
A chemistry that slowly fizzled out from my side as Daisy’s case progressed.
It felt wrong, disrespectful to my sister’s memory, somehow.
Then he was seconded to another case, and I didn’t see him for a while until he returned to Daisy’s one.
It wasn’t his fault. Not really. He was only doing his job when he told me they had closed Daisy’s case. Her death was accidental, they had concluded. However much I argued that it wasn’t.
Steeling myself, I jump straight in. No point dressing it up. What’s the use? ‘I need you to reopen my sister’s case.’
He goes to speak but hesitates. His mouth twists to the side. ‘Sit down,’ he says softly.
The chairs are more comfortable than the plastic ones in the waiting area. I don’t waste any time. ‘DS Porter, there’s someone who I need you to look into.’
‘Tim,’ he says quietly. ‘You always called me Tim.’
I remove the A Meeting of Minds leaflet from my bag and hand it to him.
His face changes. His eyes don’t leave mine as he takes the leaflet.
‘Justin Lakeland, also known as Marcus Aurelius, owns this organisation. Daisy supposedly had some kind of therapy session with him the day she died. He knows something. I know he does. Please, DS… Tim… you’ve got to help me.’
He studies the front of the leaflet. ‘Can I ask how you came across this information?’
‘I’ve been looking into Daisy’s movements around the time of her death.
Trying to fill in that missing gap, when her phone went dead.
’ I let my revelation hang in the air for him to digest. ‘I came across this organisation, group, cult, whatever you want to call it. Daisy was really into them. I went to one of their conventions at the weekend. A stallholder remembered seeing Daisy at the Leeds convention the day she died. Daisy bought a baseball cap from her. The woman recalled her being really excited because she had an invite to one of this Marcus’s bonus workshops at the end of the day.
’ I speak fast, frantically trying to get my words out, trying to convince him – my only hope of getting the case reopened.
Tim studies the leaflet, then looks at me with those steely blue eyes. ‘But you don’t know she actually went to this workshop?’ he says. Something about his voice gets to me.
‘He’s a creep. He needs investigating.’ I wince at my voice sounding like some irate infant.
He gives the leaflet another once-over. ‘Scarlett.’ He takes a deep breath. ‘I understand how hard this is for you, but reopening a case is not a simple process. This is all based on your gut reaction about someone who was never even part of the original investigation.’
‘Well, he should’ve been. My sister’s case was closed way too quickly. I think you know that. Deep down. And this… this guy needs looking into. I feel it. Help me. Please.’
‘We can’t reopen a case based on a gut reaction. There are no hard facts here. It doesn’t change the toxicology outcome.’
‘You don’t believe me, do you? You still think I’m in denial.’ I’m being unfair. I try to put myself in his position, and consider what I would say to the grieving girl sitting in front of him.
‘It’s not that I don’t believe you think you’ve got something here.’ He reaches out a hand to me but quickly draws it back. ‘But there’s only so much I can do.’
‘You think I’m wasting your time. You’ve closed the case, ticked all your boxes.
But I’m telling you, my sister did not take a drug overdose.
Someone did this to her, and they are still out there.
And this creep knows something, I can’t explain it, but I feel it.
’ I sound stupid. I’m imploring him to reopen the case on a hunch.
That’s what it is after all. This isn’t me.
I’m always so rational, fact checking everything.
I don’t know. Maybe the heat is getting to me.
He taps the leaflet in his hand and gives a thin-lipped smile. ‘Leave it with me. I’ll look into it.’
‘Then what happens?’
‘First, let me see what I can find out about this organisation. That’s the first step of a very complicated process.
Then I’ll have to present a case to my inspector.
But unless there’s new evidence to uncover, it’ll prove extremely difficult.
He’ll just kick me out of his office. What you’ve just told me doesn’t materially undermine the conclusion of the original case.
There’s no concrete evidence. But you have my word that I’ll do the best I can. ’
I lower my head and run my hands through my hair. ‘How long do you need to look into it?’ I hate the touch of sarcasm those words came out with.
‘Give me a couple of weeks.’
‘A couple of weeks!’ I pick up my bag and jump out of the chair. ‘You will look into it though, won’t you?’
He stands, too. We’re face to face. A breath apart. Despite my hostility, a spark of that original chemistry bolts between us. ‘Scarlett, I’m a man of my word. I promise you, I absolutely will.’
‘It could be too late by then.’ I head for the door.
‘Another person like me could lose a sister,’ I say over my shoulder.
‘You should see how he is with those young girls. They flock around him. He laps it up like some puppy dog. Only he’s not a puppy, he’s a creepy old man. ’ I stop. ‘I want this all on record.’
He walks towards me. ‘This meeting will go on the record, Scarlett. That you’ve been here and asked me to look into this Justin Lakeland.’
My shoulders relax slightly, understanding the commitment he is making to me. ‘I’m telling you, Tim. That man met my sister that day, and he knows what really happened to her.’ I turn to open the door.
He catches my shoulder. I turn. He pulls his hand back. Our eyes fix on one another. ‘I’ll call you.’ He lowers his voice, until it’s barely a whisper. ‘I promise.’