She was still in her seat but looked as if she was about to leap out of it at any moment, her hands shaking, her face suddenly drained of colour, ashy white. There was silence in the room for several moments, then Helena cleared her throat.
‘OK, we’ll leave that for now,’ she said. ‘Just one more thing. We’ve accessed your medical records, and we’ve noticed that you suffered from a period of anxiety and depression a few years ago. Can you tell us a bit about that?’
Gemma sighed wearily. She looked drained, Helena thought, the dark rings under her eyes even more pronounced now that she was looking so pale.
‘It was work-related. I was working as a newspaper reporter back then and it was really high pressure. It all got on top of me, so I quit my job and got help. I’m fine now. Being freelance is much better because I’m in control. I can turn down jobs if I have too much on. And again, how is that relevant to Danny’s disappearance? It was before I even met him.’
Her words were defiant, but she just sounded sad now, her voice low and monotone. Helena looked at Devon, who gave her a small nod. It was time to wrap things up. And so they’d let Gemma O’Connor go home, not really any further forward than they’d been when she’d arrived.
‘Here you go.’
Devon was back, carrying two steaming mugs. She accepted hers gratefully, desperate for the small caffeine hit the tea offered. After a couple of sips she put the mug down again.
‘Right, so now we wait for the forensics on the O’Connor house. Maybe that will tell us what to do next, Devon, because I don’t mind telling you, I’m struggling here.’
He sighed.
‘I know, boss. And I know what you mean about Gemma O’Connor. There’s a lot there that points to her, but things don’t entirely add up. By the way, notice how she still talks about him in the present tense? I was just thinking about that when I was getting the drinks. “I’m five foot four, he’s over six foot”, remember that? It’s a little thing, but the psychs would say that means she believes he’s still alive. Otherwise it would have been more like “he was over six foot”.’
Helena picked up her mug again.
‘I know. I noticed that too. And if she did kill him in that apartment, she had a point – she’s not very big, or very strong looking. Unless she did have help, how would she have been able to overpower him? When he was asleep, maybe? And how would she dispose of the body? I just don’t know. But she’s a clever woman, Devon. She’s a journalist, remember, and they’re tricky. We can’t let her fool us.’
She took a sip and put the mug down.
‘And also, that episode of mental illness she had a few years ago? She says she’s OK now, but how do we know it’s not back and worse this time, making her do things she might not even be aware of? We can’t take anything for granted, there’s too much at stake here. I mean, now it’s potentially four murders we’re talking about. Four, and maybe five. We need to find Danny O’Connor’s body. Because he’s dead, Devon. I know he is. And I still think his clever little wifey knows a lot more than she’s letting on.’
Chapter 17
‘Well, thanks a lot. Thanks for nothing.’
I cut the call and flung my phone down onto the sofa, then sank onto it myself, a sudden wave of shame rushing over me to replace the surge of anger I’d just felt. Shit. What was wrong with me? I’d just lost my temper with the police again, just like I had in that interview room the previous night when they were asking me all those ridiculous questions. I needed to get a grip.
‘Who was that? They’re still out there, you know. In fact, I think there are more of them now than there were last night.’
Eva appeared in the doorway of the living room, long hair in a plait down her back, a half-eaten apple in one hand. Albert scampered in behind her and ran across the room to sit at my feet, resting his head on my knee.
‘Hello, you,’ I said, and stroked his soft nose, then turned back to Eva.
‘It was the police. I rang them to tell them we were under siege