80
Jo smiled. ‘Was it something I said?’
Daniels didn’t answer. She was angry with Bright for walking away. His relationship with Jo had always swung between bearable and non-existent. But in recent months they’d toned their antagonism down a little, tolerated one another, helped by his move to HQ. It wasn’t a personal thing when it began. Bright was old school, always would be. Despite Jo’s reputation as an exceptional criminal profiler, he didn’t see the need to involve her, or anyone like her, in police work. As far as he was concerned, detectives cracked cases and worked best when left alone to do their jobs without outside influence or interference. But Daniels suspected it was now personal, fuelled by his knowledge that the two women had once been an item. She hated that two of the most important people in her life couldn’t get along. Bright would probably throw a party when Jo handed in her notice.
Maybe it would be best if she did leave.
Life would certainly be far less complicated.
‘I heard congrats were in order,’ Jo said.
Too distracted to answer, Daniels was busy watching her former boss make good his escape. He turned as he reached the door, made a telephone with his hand and held it to his ear indicating that he’d ring her later. As she nodded her understanding, Jo waved a hand in front of her face.
‘Kate?’
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘Absolutely nothing . . .’ Jo pointed to Daniels’ office door. ‘Shall we get on?’
The DCI led the way. On her journey back to town, she’d been as high as a kite for two reasons. One: she’d collared her suspect. Two: she’d seen Fielding again, and that brought hope of something special for the future. Someone special she wanted to get to know. But as she made coffee and sat down opposite Jo, her newfound joy faded and she found herself dragged backwards, memories of their time together crashing in on her, all thoughts of Fielding pushed away.
Torn by mixed emotions, she fought her feelings and dealt with the situation badly. Because of where they were, the conversation didn’t escalate into a full-blown row. But for the next few minutes there was awkwardness between them she found hard to ignore. If Jo said black, Daniels said white, treating her former partner like any other business associate, making it obvious she had neither the time nor the inclination to prolong their meeting beyond that which was absolutely necessary.
‘You OK?’ Jo asked. ‘You seem really agitated.’
‘I’m fine,’ Daniels lied. ‘Tired, that’s all.’
‘We’re all tired,’ Jo said. ‘Doesn’t mean we can’t be civil.’
Daniels’ apologetic smile felt like a sneer on her lips.
‘Better get to it then.’ Jo slapped a thick file on the desk between them and handed Daniels some handwritten notes, a précis of what she’d discovered. ‘While you were out searching for Laidlaw, Abbott gave me access to her Fire Service record. I called in a few favours with my colleagues at Social Services. Bribery and corruption usually does the trick, I find.’
Her joke fell on deaf ears.
‘It’s very impressive,’ was all Daniels said.
‘Ahm, what’s with the cold and unfriendly tone?’
‘Can you give it to me in layman’s terms?’
‘Of course!’ Jo said. ‘Have I done something to upset you?’
‘No.’
‘If this is about my leaving—’
‘It’s not!’
‘Because, if it is, I’ve decided—’
Daniels cut her off. ‘Look, you must do what you think fit. It’s really none of my business, is it?’
Jo looked angry but held her tongue. Grabbing the notes from the desk, she buried her head in them, trying to hide the fact that she was upset. As she began to sum up what she’d found out – something to do with Laidlaw being mistreated as a child – her words were drowned out by Daniels’ guilty thoughts. She was behaving like a prat and Jo had done nothing to deserve it.
‘Are you getting any of this or am I wasting my breath?’ Jo asked pointedly.
‘Child abuse doesn’t excuse what she did.’
‘No . . . but it goes some way to explaining it,’ Jo reminded her. ‘Shall I carry on?’
‘Please.’
‘From an early age, Lucy was living south of the river. She was taken into the care of Gateshead local authority when she was eight years old . . .’ Jo paused. ‘Is she being processed now?’
Daniels nodded. ‘It’ll take a while to get her brief down here. I wanted your input so I could work out an interview strategy.’ Deciding that an apology was in order, she tried to find the right form of words but they remained on the tip of her tongue and were never articulated because she hid behind the work as usual. ‘Naylor’s building up a picture of the man she was with. Information is flooding in now we’ve ID’d him. Con man and money launderer was his claim to fame. I think he’d groomed Laidlaw, who was the Brit arm of a much larger operation of organized crime.’ Daniels was still choking on the apology. ‘Her living in Gateshead during the early part of her life adds up, though.’
‘How?’
‘It’s another connection between her and Ivy’s lottery ticket. She wasted no time collecting the winnings. On Thursday she caught a train to King’s Cross and met a man who has since called the incident room. Ben Foster happens to be a linguist and nailed her accent which, he says, she was none too happy about at the time. He also said she was very odd. Dangerous, was the word he used to describe her. Reckons she’s got a screw loose.’
‘Is that a psychiatric term?’
Daniels smiled. ‘He claims she made a play for him that he rejected, then denied knowing him when they met by chance the very next day.’ She paused for a moment. ‘There’s something odd about him too, I reckon. I get the feeling he’s not telling the whole truth, only the part he wants us to hear.’
‘That makes two of you,’ Jo said.
‘Look—’
Jo held up a hand. ‘I take that back. I can see you’re under a lot of pressure, Kate. I’ll do anything to help, you know that. Just let’s not argue, eh?’ She handed Daniels a set of glossy photographs. ‘Take a look at these.’
Daniels’ face twisted in revulsion as she flicked through the photographs. They were graphic images: close-ups of cigarette burns on a child’s torso. There were more than two dozen of them in total. ‘They’re disgusting,’ she said. ‘But then so is what she did to Jamie Reid.’
‘Violence breeds violence, you know that.’ Jo exhaled as if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. ‘It was too late for Lucy by the time social workers discovered the extent of the problem. A school nurse raised the alarm. Education professionals were concerned but didn’t flag her up as they should’ve, despite the fact that she was displaying classic character traits of an abused child. Had they done so, Lucy would’ve been picked up by child protection much sooner. According to reports, she was a precocious child from an early age, exhibiting inappropriate and provocative behaviour towards adult males: teachers, social workers, doctors, foster fathers. Each time they found a home for her, she was returned to care.’
‘Was anyone ever charged?’
‘With the abuse? Not according to Robbo.’
‘Why not?’
‘Her father worked away a lot and both parents apparently had affairs. He was questioned but in his defence he cited multiple partners on the mother’s side. Without Lucy’s evidence, they couldn’t make a case.’
‘She never told anyone who abused her?’
Jo shook her head. ‘Amazing isn’t it?’
For a few seconds the room fell silent, a little girl’s torment affecting them both.
It was Jo who broke the deadlock. ‘Her father passed himself off as a successful businessman, but health-care professionals expressed doubts about his status. He was a bit of a con man himself, I think. That’s probably where she got the faulty gene, the aptitude for reinventing herself.’
‘How the hell did she get into the fire service?’
‘Kids like Lucy learn to manipulate from an early age. It makes them feel powerful and, from what I’ve learned from your lot, she’s good at it too. She’s beyond help, Kate. And she’s not going to be easy to interview, that’s for sure.’
Her comment prompted Daniels to look at her watch. ‘I must go.’
Jo uncrossed her legs and stood up. ‘Good luck.’
Daniels stood up too and took the file from her. ‘Thanks for this.’
There was a moment of heartache and sorrow between them.
‘If you can bring yourself to do it sensitively, play on the abuse . . .’ Jo suggested. ‘If you find the right trigger, she may collapse and tell you all you want to know.’
‘I’m surprised to hear you say that.’
‘Needs must,’ Jo said sadly. ‘I told you, it’s too late for Lucy. She walks and she’ll kill again, there’s no doubt about it.’