Tim Cole had spent quite a bit of time in and out of prison, his longest stretch three and a half years for robbery. It would have been tempting to treat him with caution based on this fact, but also too obvious. Although he had committed plenty of crimes, there was nothing in his record to suggest he had a propensity for violence.
His crimes seemed to have been encouraged by circumstance – a childhood spent in care; an early adult life characterised by homelessness and drug addiction. By all accounts he was a glowing example of how a person really needn’t be condemned by the ex-con branding.
Of which Alex was also sceptical. The man sitting opposite her seemed a bit too eager to project himself as perfect.
Tim had removed the beanie hat he’d been wearing when he’d answered the front door and put it on the kitchen table in front of him. Now he sat picking at a loose thread that dangled from its seam, all the while nodding overenthusiastically at everything Alex said. Chloe was standing by the kitchen sink, her attention momentarily diverted to the window and to the sea of nettles that made up Tim Cole’s small square of back garden.
‘You know both women pretty well then, Mr Cole?’
His head didn’t stop, the bald scalp reflecting the kitchen’s strip lighting every time his nods dipped forward.
‘Yes. I mean, I knew both of them from the group, but I didn’t really know either of them particularly well, not personally. We don’t really. That’s the idea of the group, I suppose – or at least the others seem to think so, at least. They like to talk about how they’re feeling, but not really give too much away about themselves or their lives. I suppose it feels safer for everyone that way. People feel less judged. If they just talk about their feelings rather than themselves they’re not being judged on decisions or mistakes, only on reactions and responses. Does that make sense?’
Alex wondered how anyone else managed a chance to talk about anything when Tim seemed so fond of the sound of his own voice. She glanced at Chloe, who gave her a knowing smile.
‘Perfect sense. Did you know that Lola Evans worked as a stripper?’
His eyebrows rose. He turned to glance at Chloe, as though seeking confirmation. ‘Really? No. No, I didn’t know that.’
‘How long have you known Connor Price?’
Tim ran a hand over his bald head. ‘A few years back. About three, I reckon. I was volunteering for a youth charity at the time. I met him on a counselling course.’
Alex had already spoken with the man who had run the counselling course where Tim Cole and Connor Price had met. After his return from Afghanistan, Connor had struggled to readjust to life back home and, like so many other veterans, had received little support after leaving the army. According to the course leader, Connor had sought the help of a private therapist after much persuasion from his family. The therapist had advised Connor to seek activity through volunteering, suggesting he become a counsellor in order to channel his own issues into helping others. Alex imagined the therapist’s intentions hadn’t been for Connor to end up in bed with the women he was supposed to be helping.
‘We got chatting one day about the lack of support we’d both had in our respective situations and it went from there. Look, Connor’s a good bloke. I know him. Whatever you think he’s done, he would never hurt anyone.’
Alex’s lips thinned. Was Tim Cole arrogant enough to compare his stretch in prison to Connor’s time in Afghanistan? Besides that, his appraisal of Connor was all well and good, but they weren’t considering him for employment and she hadn’t asked him for a character reference.
‘Do you keep a record of everyone who attends the group?’
Tim nodded.
‘What do the details include?’
‘Only the basics – names, addresses, next of kin.’
‘We’re going to need those records,’ Alex told him. ‘Where are they kept?’
‘At the hall.’
If they were unable to find anything solid against Connor, they were going to have to let him go. If it turned out to be the case that they had in fact arrested the wrong man, a lead elsewhere would give them other possible avenues to consider. The support group was the first and only current link between the two victims they had. Checking the group’s records would allow them to find out who else had come into contact with them.
‘How do you keep in contact with group members regarding changes in meeting times and things like that?’ Chloe asked.
‘I run everything from a Twitter account. We tend to stick to the same days and times, but if there are any changes I tweet it and if anyone wants to contact me they can do so that way. We keep our privacy by not sharing mobile numbers.’
‘We’ll need the details for that account as well.’
If Connor wasn’t the man they were looking for, would the killer be brazen enough to return to the group? Would he sit amongst the other members of the group, his crimes carefully concealed beneath a fa?ade of vulnerability?
‘When’s the next meeting?’ Chloe asked, as though reading Alex’s thoughts.
‘It’s supposed to be this evening, but—’
‘Run it,’ Alex told him.
There was only one way they were going to find out whether that support group held the answers they desperately needed. They were going to have to go there to see for themselves.
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘Thank you for meeting up with me.’
Scott sat opposite her, his finger idly tracing the circle of water that the base of his iced drink had left on the wooden table. He looked really handsome, Chloe thought. Too nice for someone like her. Too easy-going and laid-back to deserve being dumped on by the weaponry of baggage she carried with her. She couldn’t understand why he was there at all. She had messed him about countless times: had cancelled, rearranged; cancelled again. They’d had the odd drink together here and there, always time snatched between other commitments. There had been so many reasons – and sometimes excuses – for not being able to meet up that Chloe was amazed he still wanted to see her at all. She took some hope from the thought that it could only mean he liked her. Somehow, she had managed to inadvertently get something right.