all, but with all the press and the publicity and everything, clearly there are people out there who think I have, and … and I’m just scared. Pictures of my house have been on TV, in the newspapers, it wouldn’t be that hard to find me, and I’m alone there most of the time, anyone could …’
Her voice, which had become more and more hysterical as she spoke, suddenly cracked and she burst into tears, sinking her face into her hands. Her friend slipped an arm round her shoulders, then looked at him.
‘Look, this is unacceptable,’ she said, and Devon was struck again by how beautiful her eyes were. ‘You can see how terrified she is, and she’s right, if some nutter’s got hold of her phone number, what next? Is there any way you can give her some protection, put an officer outside her home for a few days? Come on, DS Clarke. This isn’t fair. If you really do think Gemma has committed a crime, provide the evidence and arrest her. But if not …’
Devon nodded, eager to please her. ‘OK, I’ll discuss it with my superiors. Leave it with me. Is there anything else?’
Gemma was still sobbing quietly.
‘Shall I tell him?’ Eva asked her gently.
‘Please.’
Eva turned her attention back to Devon, and he felt that tiny flicker of desire again. Then he checked himself. There’d be plenty of time to think about women when all this was over. Concentrate, Devon.
‘Well, on Thursday Gemma went to London, to meet up with Quinn O’Connor, Danny’s cousin,’ she began.
‘Yes, I know,’ said Devon. ‘And in fact, when you arrived I was just about to get in touch with you to discuss Mr Quinn O’Connor, Gemma. You saved me a job.’
‘You … you know? How? Did you have me followed or something?’
Gemma, face still tear-streaked, looked up at him, clearly alarmed. Devon shook his head.
‘No, we didn’t. But …’
He turned as the door opened and Helena walked in, brown envelope in hand.
‘Ready?’ she said.
‘Yes,’ replied Devon. ‘Mrs O’Connor, we need to ask you some more questions with regards to the disappearance of your husband. Miss Hawton, I’m afraid we’ll need you to step out now. Are you still declining legal representation, Mrs O’Connor?’
The two women looked stunned.
‘But … but we wanted to tell you …’ began Gemma.
‘Oh, come on, now what?’ said Eva, sounding exasperated.
‘Legal representation?’ Devon repeated.
‘No, I don’t need any, I haven’t done anything …’
‘Gemma, maybe you should, this time? If they’re questioning you yet again …’
Eva sounded concerned, but Gemma shook her head vehemently.
‘I’m fine, Eva. Go. I’ll see you outside.’
Eva frowned, clearly reluctant to oblige, but Gemma waved her hands in a shooing motion.
‘Go, honestly.’
She did, and when they were ready Helena began.
‘Mrs O’Connor, some allegations have been made against you, and we’d like to put them to you. It’s been alleged that on at least one occasion, and reportedly on numerous occasions, your husband Danny was the victim of domestic abuse. And that you were responsible for that abuse. What’s your response to those claims?’
Gemma stared at her, wide-eyed.
‘Domestic … domestic what? What are you talking about?’
‘Domestic abuse. Or domestic violence, as it’s commonly known. We have evidence that, on at least one occasion as I said, you punched and kicked your husband so severely that he was left with significant bruising …’
‘I did what? That is absolutely ludicrous. I love Danny. I would never … who told you that? And what evidence?’
Her face was flushed with anger, her voice getting louder with each word. Devon raised a hand.
‘Mrs O’Connor, please try to stay calm. We want to show you a couple of photographs.’
She took a couple of deep breaths, obviously trying to regain control, and he waited a moment then slid the two photographs Quinn O’Connor had presented them with out of the envelope Helena had brought with her. He placed them on the table in front of Gemma.
‘What can you tell us about these pictures, Gemma?’ Helena asked. ‘Are these the injuries you inflicted on your husband on one of the occasions when you attacked him?’
‘I never …’ Gemma leaned forward, staring at the photos. Then a look of relief crossed her face, and she straightened up again.
‘Those aren’t injuries inflicted by me,’ she said firmly. ‘I know exactly how and when Danny got those bruises. It was back in early November, during that really icy spell? He was cycling home from work and a car pulled out of a side road right in