One Left Alive - Helen Phifer Page 0,41

down at the desk in the corner of the room, nearest the back wall. There were no personal items on it so she didn’t feel as if she was encroaching on someone’s work space. She logged on to the computer and began searching. She tried everything, but nothing brought any results up. How on earth was she supposed to find anything out? It was ridiculous. All the systems were new and the records didn’t go back very long. Even the older systems, which ironically were much easier to navigate, only went back to the nineties.

Frustrated, she gave up and went to wash the cups. Her arms elbow deep in soapy water, she didn’t hear Ben, who came up the back stairs.

‘Do you ever sleep?’

She screeched. ‘Jesus, you scared me.’

‘I don’t look that bad, or do I?’

She laughed. ‘Not really, I never heard you. I found something really interesting, but I’m stuck. I’ve tried everything to bring up the old case files.’

‘How far back are you trying to go?’

‘Forty-five years.’

‘Forty-five years, blimey. What’s that, 1974?’

‘Close, 1975.’

‘Then you’ll need to get Kenny, the caretaker, to let you into the attic. There are boxes and boxes of files up there from before everything was digitized. Even if it was on the computer, it’s so long ago there wouldn’t be any need for it to be on the system. What is it?’

‘The Potters aren’t the only family to die in that house. I was searching the internet before I came to work and found an article from the local paper about a family who’d recently moved in who were all killed.’

Ben stared at her. ‘You’re having me on, is this some kind of joke?’

She shook her head. ‘Why would I joke about something so horrible?’

He shrugged. ‘I guess I’ve been working with Amy too long; she would.’

They went back into the office and she pulled up the report she’d discovered earlier, sending it to the printer.

‘Where’s the printer?’

‘Down the corridor; we share one with admin.’

Morgan rushed to go and retrieve it. She came back in and handed it to Ben, who read it.

‘I didn’t know anything about this. Shit, as if this wasn’t complicated enough, now this. Did they catch anyone? Because it might give us a lead to go on. They’d possibly have been released to go back and kill the next family. Christ, it’s like a Michael Myers movie and we’re smack bang in the middle of it.’

He loosened the tie he’d not long put on. Taking the printout from her, he began to walk towards his office.

‘Sarge, there’s something else.’

He turned to look at her.

‘My dad.’ Morgan felt her throat constrict it felt so dry. She couldn’t get the words out; they were stuck in the back of her throat, giving her a bad taste.

Ben waited for her to continue.

She let out a small cough.

‘Stan, he… He was on the CCTV I viewed from the Potters’ front camera the day before the murders. He’s talking to Saul Potter then he comes up the drive.’

‘What happened next?’

‘I didn’t carry on watching. I was so shocked I paused the recording and went home to confront him. That’s when I discovered he’d ransacked my flat.’

She couldn’t look him in the eyes. It was better to get it over with now. She could re-join her shift. They’d be coming in soon – maybe she could tell them she hated CID; it was not for her. She didn’t have to let them know she’d been kicked out so soon.

‘This kind of complicates things, doesn’t it?’ she asked him.

He reached out, taking hold of her arm and led her into his office, closing the door behind him.

‘Have a seat.’

She sat down, still unable to look him in the eyes.

‘Thank you for your honesty. This can’t have been easy for you but you’re doing the right thing. I’m going to have to look into him now, and he’s going to have to be brought in for questioning. We might be able to rule him out. What’s he do for a living?’

‘You mean when he’s not being an alcoholic petty thief? Not much. He’s a bit of an odd-job man, does a spot of gardening. Nothing much.’

‘So, there’s a good chance he might have worked for the Potters.’

‘Possibly, he wouldn’t have a reason to be at their house if he didn’t know them. Look, I know this is awkward, but I really don’t want to go back down to response. I want to stay involved; I want to catch

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