Cut You Dead (Dr. Samantha Willerby Mystery #4) - A J Waines Page 0,100

I was eighteen. There was another elite cyclist called Pitlock and people kept mixing us up.’

Emily Pitlock. She must have known Charlotte, her brother’s fiancée, as well as Lorna, through Isabel’s death. And Hazel came to her mother’s house with her ‘homes in the sun’ brochures. The three murder victims. She knew them all.

‘Your mother never mentioned you,’ I said, my voice breathy.

‘We don’t get on. Never did. My brother was the one who stayed at home. Her little mummy’s boy. I spread my wings and she more or less disowned me. She only gets in touch if she wants something.’

I recalled the missing pictures in the photo album. Perhaps this explained the gaps.

‘I think we should sit down, don’t you?’ Emily said, flinging off her hood. Her tone was matter-of-fact, without obvious enmity. The rain had stopped, but swollen black clouds hovered above us. I was in a daze as I sidled over to the table at her side. Emily wouldn’t hurt me, would she? Not after the bond we’d built between us? Nevertheless, I pulled out the chair that was closest to the staircase.

‘But, your hair…?’ I said, as I sat on the edge of the metal seat, the cold rain bleeding through my jeans.

She sat down, her new short style settling around her neck. ‘I did it myself. To throw you off the scent. I’ve always been good with a pair of scissors. Mum never knew I was the one who gave Dad his first smart trim shortly before he died.’ Emily casually stretched out her legs as though nothing had changed between us.

‘You cut his hair…’

‘I used to cut my own hair when I was little, but once I turned eight, Dad let me have a go at his. We waited for Mum to go out. We never told her. I made a really good job of it.’

Instinctively, my hand went to the back of my head. ‘And mine?’

She nodded without emotion. ‘That was me, obviously. When I saw you in the crowd near the French restaurant.’

A sharp pain lashed down my spine as the truth finally settled on me.

Emily had given me a death sentence – I was her next target.

76

‘How did you know?’ I asked Emily, genuinely mystified. ‘How did you know I was working on cold cases?’ We were still sitting around the patio table, like two chums waiting for the party to start.

Emily smiled. ‘Way back in 2010, I had to speak to the police when my friend, Isabel, was killed falling down the stairs. I hit it off with one of the officers and we stayed in touch, going out for a drink every now and then. Not long after Hazel fell off the balcony, we met up in a pub. I wanted to make sure the police were treating it as an accident.’

‘They were – to start with.’

She shrugged. ‘My officer friend let it slip that someone was being brought in to look at old murder cases. He was angry. Said it might get in the way of his promotion.’

‘How did you know it was me?’

‘After a few drinks, he told me it was a psychologist from St Luke’s. So I looked up the staff list online. Then I rang the mental health unit and with a few strategic questions, found out which psychologist was on secondment. Once I had your name, it was easy. You were conspicuously absent on social media, but I found a photo of you through your sister.’

Emily must have seen my face drop. She chuckled. ‘Miranda isn’t quite as guarded as you are! She’d tagged you a few times, even though you hadn’t posted anything for years.’

This was news to me. I tutted under my breath.

‘Then I got to hear that Tamsin had been visited by someone questioning whether Hazel’s fall was an accident. Facebook is a wonderful thing. I knew I needed to keep a closer eye on you, so with the help of Miranda’s timeline, I tracked your sister down to CCAP.’ Emily clapped her hands together. ‘Then I was in!’

A frown dug deep into my forehead. ‘How did you know which cold cases I was looking at?’

‘It didn’t matter to start with. I just wanted to know if any links were being made between Hazel’s death and any other cases.’

‘But you never asked me once about what I was up to.’ I was genuinely intrigued by her back-door approach.

‘I watched, waited. I knew from your reactions that you were miles off target.