to talk to his superior. She knew there were channels. But how long would all that take? She couldn’t just leave it, carry on as normal and allow Ollie to go over there. She had to talk to Laura if no one else would. Confront her. She would kill her, and her bloody mother, before she would let any harm come to her child.
Forty-Four
Joe
After speaking to his detective sergeant, who told him what he’d thought she might – that anything he thought he had on Laura Collins was circumstantial – Joe waited for the guy he’d called in to fit locks to Sarah’s windows to finish, and then made sure the house was secured before leaving. He wasn’t sure the extra security, apart from the new lock on the front door, was needed now. What Sarah had said seemed far-fetched, but it was feasible. Laura was a damaged individual, that much was clear. The question was, how damaged? He couldn’t verify it without access to her medical records, but as sleepwalking affected only a small percentage of adults, he was assuming it was late-onset, possibly the stammer too, both brought on by emotional trauma when her brother disappeared. He felt sorry for her. He truly had thought Sarah was obsessing about her initially, that she might have been jealous, even unconsciously – she and Steve had had a child together; he’d guessed that the ties wouldn’t be easily cut. He didn’t think that now. Sarah was frightened, with good reason. He couldn’t be sure the break-in had been anything to do with Laura, but if it was, seeing Sarah’s house viciously trashed, the ear sliced off the toy she’d shown him, then Laura’s problems had to run deeper than post-traumatic syndrome.
Christ, why hadn’t he taken her more seriously? Furious with himself, he headed for his car. He damn well should have. Instead, he’d dismissed her concerns, as good as ridiculed her. He would never forgive himself if any harm came to her or Ollie.
He was taking a risk professionally, but he needed to talk to Christopher Jameson, establish why he’d told Sarah that Laura was dangerous. He’d clearly been trying to warn her, but of what? He’d given her vague details, that was all. Joe needed more.
Arriving at the guy’s place of work – he hadn’t had to do much digging around there; the man’s profile had been on LinkedIn – he approached the reception desk and showed his ID. Two minutes later, Christopher Jameson emerged from one of the offices.
‘Is there a problem?’ he asked warily. He was clean-cut, wearing a business suit; he didn’t appear outwardly aggressive, but that was no indication that he wasn’t. Abusers, male or female, often seemed reasonable on the surface. He had a slightly guilty look about him, but Joe couldn’t blame him for that. Most people did when approached by the law.
‘Is there somewhere we can talk privately?’ Joe indicated the office Jameson had just come from.
The man scrutinised him cautiously, and then nodded him through.
Joe waited until he’d closed the door, then, ‘I’m not here officially,’ he said.
Jameson narrowed his eyes. ‘So you’re at my place of work for what reason exactly?’
Joe guessed he was pissed off at him for turning up here. He had every right to be. ‘Laura Collins,’ he said, and waited, studying him carefully.
The man emitted a short, scornful laugh. ‘Sorry.’ Shaking his head, he pulled the door open again. ‘I have no wish to discuss Laura Collins or anything to do with her.’
‘Right.’ Joe stayed put. ‘When I said I wasn’t here officially, I should clarify that I meant I wasn’t here officially yet.’
‘For fuck’s …’ Cursing agitatedly, Jameson shoved the door closed. ‘Do you realise what she put me through?’ He eyeballed Joe angrily. ‘She accused me of being abusive.’
Joe held his gaze. ‘Were you?’
‘Only when I threw her out,’ the man growled irritably.
Joe pushed his hands into his pockets, trying to keep the whole thing low-key. ‘So why did you throw her out?’
Jameson eyed the ceiling, his jaw clenching. ‘She’s sick,’ he said, jabbing himself in the temple. ‘She needs help. Not that she’ll admit she does.’
‘And you think she’s sick because?’
Sighing, Jameson drew in a long breath. ‘Is this something to do with the woman who accosted my son in the school playground?’ he asked.
Accosted his …? That didn’t sound like Sarah. But then she had been desperate. ‘Could be,’ Joe said non-committally.
The man arched a curious eyebrow. ‘She has a kid, doesn’t