low somewhere in the UK,’ said Devon morosely. ‘They’re good at hiding, as we know.’
Helena stopped pacing and stepped towards him, punching him gently on the shoulder.
‘Cheer up, mate. Stop beating yourself up for losing Danny. We’ll get him, one of these days. And in the meantime, we’re back to square one with these murders. We need to get our heads together. Danny and Gemma O’Connor were a distraction that’s taken up far too much of our time, OK? Forget them for now.’
He sighed.
‘Yeah. I know you’re right, but I’m still furious with myself. I’m going for some teas, want one?’
‘Please.’
Helena gave him a wry, sympathetic smile. Letting Danny escape through his bathroom window hadn’t been ideal, but she wasn’t about to take it out on Devon, or on Mike either. These things happened. She was more angry – extremely pissed off in fact – about the fact that the team had wasted so much time looking for Danny and investigating Gemma. There were still some coincidences that were bothering her a little – the physical similarities between Danny and the murder victims, for instance – but she knew she would have to let that go and move on. He wasn’t a victim, and he’d been responsible for his own disappearance. She had more important things to worry about right now; the press, always quick to sniff out a negative story, were back on her case, demanding an official update on what the next step in the so-called serial killer investigation was going to be, now that the prime suspect had been released without charge. She’d wondered briefly about bringing George Dolan, the man who’d claimed to have killed all five men, back into custody, but had almost instantly dismissed the idea. He’d clearly been lying through his teeth, something that was even more obvious now that Danny O’Connor was very much alive despite Dolan’s claims, and her gut told her the hours they’d spent with him had been another complete waste of time. And she couldn’t afford to get it wrong again; she’d already had to deal with yet another irate call from the Detective Chief Super earlier that morning. It had not been a pleasant conversation.
‘We just need a break. One tiny little lead. Come on, universe, help me out here,’ she muttered, as she sat down at her desk and tapped her mouse. Her screen lit up, an email notification flashing in the corner. She clicked on it. It was, finally, the forensics report from the scene of the attempted murder of Declan Bailey in London, the attack which had happened, coincidentally it now seemed, so close to the pub where Gemma and Quinn had met up. Her heart skipped a beat as she started to scan the message. If they’d found DNA on the weapon the assailant had dropped … then she stopped scrolling, frowning.
‘What? WHAT?’
‘What’s up?’
Devon, who was still only halfway across the room, having paused for a chat with Tara as he headed towards the door on his tea mission, turned and started walking back towards her.
‘SHIT! This can’t be right. It can’t be, it just doesn’t make any sense …’
She was standing up now, but still peering at her computer screen, unable to comprehend what she was reading.
‘Boss – what? What is that?’
Devon was by her side now, trying to see what she was looking at.
‘It’s the forensics report from the assault in London. They’ve found DNA. And look, Devon. Look.’
He read it too, and gasped.
‘What? But that means …’
Helena took a deep breath.
‘Exactly. It means we’ve got this wrong. We’ve got this all wrong.’
Chapter 38
‘That is so kind of you, thank you. I really appreciate it.’
I took the fragrant-smelling casserole dish from Jo and smiled. My next-door neighbour had just popped round to tell me she’d been keeping up with the news and had been greatly relieved to hear that I was free, and that Danny was alive.
‘I never met him, obviously, but you were so worried about him that time you came round, so I’m really happy it’s all worked out for you,’ she said. ‘We didn’t really know what to do, me and Jenny and Clive, while it was all going on, you know? All the press outside and everything. We talked about coming round to see if you were OK, but then we thought, well, we didn’t really know you, and … and, well, it was all so awkward. We probably should have though, sorry.’