had given about her violent behaviour towards Danny – and working backwards. She was pretty sure they didn’t have enough to persuade the CPS to even consider charging her with the four other murders, but her husband – they just might have enough now, she thought. OK, so there was still no body. But even so, it had been pretty damn clear for some time that something seriously bad had happened to Danny O’Connor. And now, with the public demanding action, and the pressure from her superiors about to increase tenfold, Helena was suddenly feeling a tiny bit reckless, and a big bit determined. She was as certain as she could be that Gemma O’Connor was guilty of something, and it was time to put her money where her mouth was. It was time to do something about it.
Chapter 31
I slept until nearly ten, waking up feeling groggy, my eyes sore and my head aching. I found Eva at the kitchen table drinking coffee and reading something on her iPad, the radio playing quietly in the background, tuned to a classical music station.
‘Very civilized,’ I said, as I slumped onto the chair opposite her. I felt exhausted.
She looked up and smiled.
‘Hey you. Just reading about some sort of riot outside the cop shop this morning. A protest about police incompetence by the look of it – the locals are angry that there’s a serial killer in their midst and nobody seems to be able to catch him. Anyway, it was something and nothing I think. All over now. How are you feeling?’
‘A riot? Here, in Bristol? Bloody hell.’
I leaned across the table and she turned the tablet to show me a photograph of a sea of angry faces, placards held aloft. Then, losing interest, I rubbed my eyes, which felt as if somebody had poured sand into them.
‘I’m knackered,’ I said. ‘Feel like an elephant sat on my head while I was asleep. And I had such a horrible dream.’
An involuntary shudder ran through me, and Eva frowned.
‘What sort of dream? What happened?’
I shook my head and stood up again.
‘It was just a dream. Doesn’t matter. I need coffee, urgently. You?’
‘Thanks, one more would be good. Look, I need to go soon, I’m so sorry. I hate leaving you, especially on your wedding anniversary and everything. But I need to be in the newsroom early tomorrow, and the flat’s a tip and I haven’t done any food shopping or washing in a week. I’ll be going to work in my PJs if I don’t get home at a reasonable hour and sort a few things out.’
‘Don’t worry, I’ll be OK. I’m just grateful you managed to get here at all. What story are you on tomorrow, do you know?’
I’d moved to the worktop as I spoke, flicking the kettle on and opening the cupboard to find a mug.
‘Eva?’
She hadn’t replied, and I turned to see her staring at me, a wary look on her face.
‘What?’
She clasped her hands in front of her, then pursed her lips and blew out some air.
‘OK, look … I was going to tell you this on Friday, but then with the texts and everything, and then all the Quinn stuff, it just didn’t seem like … well, you see …’
I was back at the table, coffee forgotten.
‘What? You’re scaring me, Eva. What is it?’
‘Well, it’s just … well, you know how the last time I was here I was joking about “my friend the serial killer”? They want me to write it.’
‘They want … what?’
I sank down onto my chair again, staring at her. She was twisting a strand of hair around a finger now, eyes downcast.
‘They want me to write a piece about you. About Danny going missing, about the similarities between him and the four murder victims. And about the police dragging you in repeatedly for questioning. They want a piece about what it’s like to be a suspect in a serial killer case, from the point of view of someone who’s got the inside track. Me.’
My mouth had dropped open, and I was gaping at her now, speechless.
‘Obviously, if anyone’s charged, it all changes and we can’t write anything, as you know,’ she said hastily. ‘But now, well …’
‘But you’re not actually going to do it?’ My voice had suddenly returned, and loudly. ‘Eva, please! You can’t!’
She sighed.
‘I’ve been trying to put it off for a week, but now they’re insisting. I don’t want to do it, Gemma. But you know what