absolutely mental.’
‘Oh, he sure is. At least I might get that useless tosser Toshney out of my hair.’
‘You think it was him that spoke to the press? He’s not that stupid surely?’
‘Well, someone is. Thing is, even if it wasn’t Toshney, Addison is going to blame him anyway. I wouldn’t want to be in his . . . shoes.’
‘No mention of what was written on their stomachs?’
‘You can see what I can see, can’t you?’
He sighed softly. ‘You want me to get the paper or just read the free ones in the café?’
‘Go and buy any paper that has this in it. I don’t want to have to wrestle it out of someone’s hands. And I would.’
‘Oh, I know you would. Get me a bacon roll and an orange juice, will you?’
It was only the Sun that had the story. Plastered over three pages including the front. They’d managed to get hold of photographs of both Kirsty McAndrew and Hannah Healey, the girls smiling incongruously out of the page. The head line conveniently ignored that Hannah had one shoe on. Or else it disregarded the fact that Kirsty had one fewer than Cinderella.
A quick scan showed no mention of the lipstick scrawl, so that was at least something. There was a lot of play about the two cemeteries with words such as ghoulish , macabre and grisly featuring throughout the piece. It was manna from heaven for the tabloids but Winter doubted that Addison or Shirley would see it that way. Or Rachel, come to that.
His eyes tried to follow the report, but they kept drifting back to the eyes that gazed at him from the paper. He couldn’t help but compare the images to the ones he had taken in the Necropolis and on Caledonia Road. Couldn’t stop himself from comparing the faces in front of him to the sleeping bloodied forms he’d photographed. Eternity stared back at him from the ink.
He closed the newspaper over, shutting the girls away, and handed over his cash to the shopkeeper. When the bell rang to betray his entrance into the café, he saw that Rachel was sitting in the rear wooden booth and already had a copy of the Sun in front of her. The way her mouth was knotted suggested that she was far from impressed.
‘If it’s Toshney, then I’m going to kill him myself,’ she hissed, her hands tightening their grip on the paper.
‘You get brown sauce on that roll?’
‘Just bloody eat it once it comes. I think this shoe stuff is bollocks. Why no shoes, then one? It doesn’t make any sense. I’m not buying it. Addison’s going to go ape shit though. This Cinderella stuff will have him diving off the top board. Christ, at least there’s nothing about the writing on their stomachs. Although it does mention the first girl’s hands being placed palm up and the other’s clasped in prayer.’
‘You sure it came from inside?’
She looked up at him, as if realising that she’d been talking out loud and had said more than she’d meant to. Even when they’d been together, she’d always tried to keep their personal and professional lives completely separate, putting up a barrier and on a need-to-know basis that annoyed the hell out of him. Even voicing her opinion of the missing shoes was more than he’d normally get.
‘Yeah. Probably. Maybe.’
He heard the all-too-familiar sound of the cell door slamming shut in his face.
‘You do remember that I took photographs of those girls? And that I was there in the Necropolis? And that I know about the shoes? And that we were more than colleagues?’
She smiled back at him sarcastically and perhaps slightly sadly. ‘Yes, I do remember. Doesn’t mean I should be talking to you about them. Or talking about who might have leaked this to the bloody paper.’
‘You mean Toshney?’
She glared at him and glanced around the café before opening her mouth to retort. The words never came though because she was interrupted by the waitress setting down an orange juice and a coffee. By the time the girl had left, Rachel’s tone had
‘Oh, he sure is. At least I might get that useless tosser Toshney out of my hair.’
‘You think it was him that spoke to the press? He’s not that stupid surely?’
‘Well, someone is. Thing is, even if it wasn’t Toshney, Addison is going to blame him anyway. I wouldn’t want to be in his . . . shoes.’
‘No mention of what was written on their stomachs?’
‘You can see what I can see, can’t you?’
He sighed softly. ‘You want me to get the paper or just read the free ones in the café?’
‘Go and buy any paper that has this in it. I don’t want to have to wrestle it out of someone’s hands. And I would.’
‘Oh, I know you would. Get me a bacon roll and an orange juice, will you?’
It was only the Sun that had the story. Plastered over three pages including the front. They’d managed to get hold of photographs of both Kirsty McAndrew and Hannah Healey, the girls smiling incongruously out of the page. The head line conveniently ignored that Hannah had one shoe on. Or else it disregarded the fact that Kirsty had one fewer than Cinderella.
A quick scan showed no mention of the lipstick scrawl, so that was at least something. There was a lot of play about the two cemeteries with words such as ghoulish , macabre and grisly featuring throughout the piece. It was manna from heaven for the tabloids but Winter doubted that Addison or Shirley would see it that way. Or Rachel, come to that.
His eyes tried to follow the report, but they kept drifting back to the eyes that gazed at him from the paper. He couldn’t help but compare the images to the ones he had taken in the Necropolis and on Caledonia Road. Couldn’t stop himself from comparing the faces in front of him to the sleeping bloodied forms he’d photographed. Eternity stared back at him from the ink.
He closed the newspaper over, shutting the girls away, and handed over his cash to the shopkeeper. When the bell rang to betray his entrance into the café, he saw that Rachel was sitting in the rear wooden booth and already had a copy of the Sun in front of her. The way her mouth was knotted suggested that she was far from impressed.
‘If it’s Toshney, then I’m going to kill him myself,’ she hissed, her hands tightening their grip on the paper.
‘You get brown sauce on that roll?’
‘Just bloody eat it once it comes. I think this shoe stuff is bollocks. Why no shoes, then one? It doesn’t make any sense. I’m not buying it. Addison’s going to go ape shit though. This Cinderella stuff will have him diving off the top board. Christ, at least there’s nothing about the writing on their stomachs. Although it does mention the first girl’s hands being placed palm up and the other’s clasped in prayer.’
‘You sure it came from inside?’
She looked up at him, as if realising that she’d been talking out loud and had said more than she’d meant to. Even when they’d been together, she’d always tried to keep their personal and professional lives completely separate, putting up a barrier and on a need-to-know basis that annoyed the hell out of him. Even voicing her opinion of the missing shoes was more than he’d normally get.
‘Yeah. Probably. Maybe.’
He heard the all-too-familiar sound of the cell door slamming shut in his face.
‘You do remember that I took photographs of those girls? And that I was there in the Necropolis? And that I know about the shoes? And that we were more than colleagues?’
She smiled back at him sarcastically and perhaps slightly sadly. ‘Yes, I do remember. Doesn’t mean I should be talking to you about them. Or talking about who might have leaked this to the bloody paper.’
‘You mean Toshney?’
She glared at him and glanced around the café before opening her mouth to retort. The words never came though because she was interrupted by the waitress setting down an orange juice and a coffee. By the time the girl had left, Rachel’s tone had
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