Gormley conceded. ‘But we can’t ignore it.’
‘I’m not!’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘If she ever becomes a credible suspect—’
‘Credible? In case you’ve forgotten, her ex is dead and she can’t be found. Anyone else, you’d be getting the cuffs out.’
‘Come on! Do you really believe someone in her position would jeopardize all she has worked for to wreak revenge on an ex-husband she hasn’t lived with for years? I don’t think
so. I didn’t say anything before because . . . well, at the risk of stating the obvious, would you want your personal life broadcast at the station? You know what the rumour squad are like .
. .’ There was an awkward silence between them. ‘Don’t look at me like that! I just . . . well, I see no reason to drag up her past. I think we should keep it to ourselves –
for now, anyway.’
‘You going to tell Bright?’
Daniels shook her head, mention of their boss a reminder of the state he had been in last night and his subsequent visit to her home shortly after six-thirty a.m. She glanced at her watch.
He’d be at Fantasy Island by now – a commonly used nickname for force headquarters – no doubt facing a barrage of questions from the powers that be. More drama. More pressure. And
scant reward for the time he was putting in. Top brass weren’t remotely interested in his personal welfare. Target-driven bollocks was the name of the game nowadays. As far as they were
concerned, Bright could be ready for a straight-jacket just so long as he got results.
Daniels paid the bill and led Gormley from the café. Her revelation about Jo’s past was the only topic of conversation as they crossed the road to the station. Gormley was
uncharacteristically subdued, probably weighing up how she would handle things if the shit hit the fan further down the line. She reassured him she’d take full responsibility should that
happen. No way would he be implicated in any breach of protocol. ‘You happy with that?’ she asked as they passed through reception and made their way along the corridor to the incident
room.
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Of course.’
‘Fine! Whatever you want. It’s your funeral, not mine. Why should I give a shit when you don’t?’ He stopped at the door to the incident room and took a long deep breath,
clearly pissed off. Then, finally, he let the matter drop. ‘Want me to put some pressure on the Home Office? They might know where Jo is.’
‘It’s worth a try, but do it quickly. I want her found and I need to nail the sequence of events from the time Stephens left his apartment to the time of his death. Maybe he met
someone either before or after he left the Weston. If he did, someone out there must’ve seen something.’
‘And if it was Jo he met?’
‘We’ll deal with that if and when it arises.’
Gormley could see his boss was troubled. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’
Daniels nodded. ‘Monica claims she and Stephens hadn’t had sex for a fortnight.’
‘Is that right?’
‘That’s what she said. Someone had sex with him though, didn’t they?’
‘You think it was Jo?’
‘Not likely, given their history.’
‘But not impossible?’
Daniels felt a knot of tension settle in her neck. ‘I really don’t know what to think.’
A couple of hours and several phone calls later, Daniels was alone in her office when there was a knock at the door. Robson entered with Carmichael and Gormley in tow: a
delegation, if ever she saw one. Good news, Daniels hoped. Both men sat down, inviting Carmichael to go first. ‘Fitzgerald’s list from the Weston.’ She handed over an A4 sheet and
stood back, waiting for a response.
Daniels gave the list the once-over, wondering why it was taking three of them to present this to her. There must be something else. ‘Terrific, Lisa. Get on to that, will you?’ She
handed the list back. ‘Talk to door security. See if they kept a record of who actually turned up,
‘I’m not!’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘If she ever becomes a credible suspect—’
‘Credible? In case you’ve forgotten, her ex is dead and she can’t be found. Anyone else, you’d be getting the cuffs out.’
‘Come on! Do you really believe someone in her position would jeopardize all she has worked for to wreak revenge on an ex-husband she hasn’t lived with for years? I don’t think
so. I didn’t say anything before because . . . well, at the risk of stating the obvious, would you want your personal life broadcast at the station? You know what the rumour squad are like .
. .’ There was an awkward silence between them. ‘Don’t look at me like that! I just . . . well, I see no reason to drag up her past. I think we should keep it to ourselves –
for now, anyway.’
‘You going to tell Bright?’
Daniels shook her head, mention of their boss a reminder of the state he had been in last night and his subsequent visit to her home shortly after six-thirty a.m. She glanced at her watch.
He’d be at Fantasy Island by now – a commonly used nickname for force headquarters – no doubt facing a barrage of questions from the powers that be. More drama. More pressure. And
scant reward for the time he was putting in. Top brass weren’t remotely interested in his personal welfare. Target-driven bollocks was the name of the game nowadays. As far as they were
concerned, Bright could be ready for a straight-jacket just so long as he got results.
Daniels paid the bill and led Gormley from the café. Her revelation about Jo’s past was the only topic of conversation as they crossed the road to the station. Gormley was
uncharacteristically subdued, probably weighing up how she would handle things if the shit hit the fan further down the line. She reassured him she’d take full responsibility should that
happen. No way would he be implicated in any breach of protocol. ‘You happy with that?’ she asked as they passed through reception and made their way along the corridor to the incident
room.
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘Of course.’
‘Fine! Whatever you want. It’s your funeral, not mine. Why should I give a shit when you don’t?’ He stopped at the door to the incident room and took a long deep breath,
clearly pissed off. Then, finally, he let the matter drop. ‘Want me to put some pressure on the Home Office? They might know where Jo is.’
‘It’s worth a try, but do it quickly. I want her found and I need to nail the sequence of events from the time Stephens left his apartment to the time of his death. Maybe he met
someone either before or after he left the Weston. If he did, someone out there must’ve seen something.’
‘And if it was Jo he met?’
‘We’ll deal with that if and when it arises.’
Gormley could see his boss was troubled. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’
Daniels nodded. ‘Monica claims she and Stephens hadn’t had sex for a fortnight.’
‘Is that right?’
‘That’s what she said. Someone had sex with him though, didn’t they?’
‘You think it was Jo?’
‘Not likely, given their history.’
‘But not impossible?’
Daniels felt a knot of tension settle in her neck. ‘I really don’t know what to think.’
A couple of hours and several phone calls later, Daniels was alone in her office when there was a knock at the door. Robson entered with Carmichael and Gormley in tow: a
delegation, if ever she saw one. Good news, Daniels hoped. Both men sat down, inviting Carmichael to go first. ‘Fitzgerald’s list from the Weston.’ She handed over an A4 sheet and
stood back, waiting for a response.
Daniels gave the list the once-over, wondering why it was taking three of them to present this to her. There must be something else. ‘Terrific, Lisa. Get on to that, will you?’ She
handed the list back. ‘Talk to door security. See if they kept a record of who actually turned up,
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