Absent Light by Eve Isherwood Page B

difficult one.” What could she say? She hardly knew the woman. “On the surface she seemed very charming. We got on well.”
    â€œYou liked her?”
    â€œYes. She was direct, irreverent, different, I guess.”
    â€œLike you,” Stratton said with a spry smile.
    You don’t know me any more, she thought sadly. “There was nothing about her that triggered my alarm signals.”
    â€œUntil the mugging,” Stratton chipped in.
    â€œUh-huh.”
    He looked at her with meditative eyes. “You think the meeting was a ruse?”
    â€œCould have been,” she admitted.
    Stratton looked thoughtful. “Got anywhere else to stay?”
    â€œWhat’s wrong with here?”
    â€œYou’re on your own.”
    She gave him a level look. “You think I’m in danger?”
    â€œIn anyone’s book, last night was a serious incident, which is why I don’t feel comfortable about you not reporting it.” He leant towards her. “I hear what you’re saying, and, sadly, knowing how sensitive cops are about corruption, I agree with your general conclusion, but isn’t it worth giving Harmon…”
    â€œNo,” she burst out. “I’ve just told you…”
    â€œOkay, okay,” he said putting up a hand defensively. He watched her for a moment. “All right,” he said slowly. “I’ll do some discreet digging.”
    â€œThanks, Joe,” she said, trying to contain the relief in her voice. “Is this going to cause a problem between you and Harmon?”
    â€œNot at the moment,” Stratton said. “Depends what I unearth.”
    â€œBut you might need to share it with her?”
    â€œI might,” he said neutrally. Except, Helen thought, the very rigid nature of police hierarchy meant that Stratton could always pull rank. Breakdowns in communication were not uncommon. He could play it however he chose. “Got an address for this Freya woman?”
    â€œHer details are in the studio,” she said, getting stiffly to her feet.
    â€œAnd I’d like her number,” he said. “Can I borrow these?” he asked, holding up the contact sheets.
    â€œSure.”
    When she returned, he was still studying the proofs. “I’ve written down my mobile number for you,” he said, “easier than going through the switchboard.”
    And easier to keep it quiet, she thought.
    â€œYou always shoot in black and white?”
    She shook her head. “Most of my work’s colour. Black and white is generally for the purists. They reckon you get more of an artistic effect. It allows the photographer to let his subject impress his or her personality on the picture, give it more of a visual impact. From a practical perspective, it’s also cheaper to produce.”
    â€œWhy do you think Freya Stephens chose this particular medium?”
    Good question, she thought. “With hindsight, I’d say she had a taste for drama. She wanted to create an impact.”
    And she certainly did, Helen thought.

CHAPTER SIX
    S HE WAS DUE AT her parents for lunch. A New Year’s Day ritual, enshrined in family history, it was designed so that her mother could recover from one hangover before embarking on the next. Several of her parents’ close friends joined them and Helen attended with whichever boyfriend she was dating at the time. For the past two years Martin had accompanied her. It felt strange, this time, to be alone.
    With her left hip and leg so badly bruised, she wasn’t entirely certain how she was going to drive. Changing the clutch would be painful but what bothered her most was her cover story. She really wanted to come clean but she couldn’t afford to, because, aside from her mother, who was spooked out enough already, she feared her father’s reaction. Her dad was a doer. He expected results. He was not good at delegation, especially when it came to his