Behind Closed Doors (36 page)

‘I wasn’t going to mention this,’ Caro said then, ‘but I used to work with Jo. Just for a couple of months, when she was covering for Trevor Harris in Knapstone.’

‘Did you?’ Sam said.

Jo had spent about three months working in Knapstone’s custody suite, not long after they’d both transferred to Eden from the Met. As the new girl, she was being used as temporary cover whenever one of the civilian detention officers went off sick – it meant a lot of driving around, but then again she got to know all the custody suites in the county very quickly, as well as all the people that worked in them. Despite Knapstone being a long trek from Briarstone, Jo had enjoyed it more than any of her other taskings, until she’d got a permanent placement in Briarstone nick.

‘Have you heard anything from her?’ Caro asked.

Sam shook her head.

‘Nothing at all?’

‘I ring her mum from time to time, so I know she’s all right.’

‘She had a rough time of it,’ Caro said.

Didn’t we all?
Sam thought.

And then, as if she could read Sam’s thoughts, Caro said, ‘I guess you had a rougher time than anyone, though…’ and she laid a hand comfortingly over Sam’s, just for a moment. A warm touch, a gesture of sympathy.

‘… and it’s experiences like that which make us better police officers,’ Caro added. ‘That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. I think that’s why you’re the only one who seems to be able to get anything out of Scarlett.’

‘What do you mean?’ Sam asked.

‘You’re the only person she’s spoken to. The
only
person.’

‘She’s hardly told me anything,’ Sam said. ‘And I get the impression that what I’m getting out of her is a very strictly edited version of the truth. I mean, it might be that the recent past is even more painful for her to think about, let alone tell to a stranger…’

‘Is that what you’re thinking?’

Sam paused for a moment, thinking. Then she admitted, ‘No. I don’t think that. I think she’s playing us. Or me, specifically.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t think it’s anything personal. I think she is just used to trying to gain advantage wherever she can get it. She’s used to thinking quickly and adapting to situations. She’s survived the last ten years and she’s done it by being clever. That doesn’t necessarily mean she’s guilty of anything. It just means… it’s going to take a different approach to get her to open up, that’s all.’

Caro got to her feet. ‘I hope Lou Smith realises how lucky she is to have you on her team, Sam.’

Sam gave a short laugh. ‘She’s brilliant to work for,’ she said.
Most of the time
.

‘Let’s go back, shall we?’ Caro said cheerfully. ‘They’re watching the DVD of Juliette’s interview. I think you should take a look – it’s quite a surprise.’

Rob Jefferson and Lou were watching the rest of the interview DVD in silence when Sam and Caro came in. Rob was sitting at his desk in the incident room, Lou looking at the screen over his shoulder.

The young woman in the pink sweater was hunched over, her head buried in her arms.

‘What’s going on?’ Caro asked.

‘She’s crying again,’ Rob said. ‘She doesn’t say much after this – another two minutes and Sam brings Scarlett in.’

‘Rob’s asked the forensic nurse practitioner to meet with her before the next session,’ Lou added.

Just as the DVD finished, Zoe Adams came into the incident room.

‘How’s it going?’ Lou asked.

‘Slowly,’ Zoe said. ‘I’ve got Clive’s and Annie’s phone data through now, along with the data from the handset we recovered in the car. I had a reply from SB too, haven’t had a chance to look at that yet. It’s going to take a while to go through it all.’

‘What have you got on the phone in the car?’ Rob asked.

‘Unfortunately there isn’t any immediate indication as to who that phone might belong to – no finger marks, no helpful images or address book entries labelled “home” – but there’s plenty of call traffic. And I’ve got a few useful things to start off with.’

‘What’s that?’ Rob asked.

‘The SIM card is a Pay As You Go, of course. But looks as if it might be one of a series of SIMs that was probably a bulk purchase. We’ve had almost consecutive numbers turn up in phones discarded by members of the Cunningham network. This particular number isn’t directly in sequence – the number ends in 512 – and we’ve had 522, 523, 528 and 529 turn up over the past six months. It’s just possible that the sequence starts earlier than we realised.’

‘Which makes it likely that the phone was in use by one of Cunningham’s lot,’ said Rob.

‘It’s possible,’ agreed Zoe. ‘When I do the analysis I’ll make sure all the latest numbers we’ve got for that network are put in for comparison with the call data.’

‘What do you think, Rob? Do you think one of Cunningham’s runners is also into car key burglaries and doorstep muggings? Anyone you can think of?’

Rob Jefferson frowned. ‘Not off the top of my head, but you know what the street-level dealers are like. They’ll get money wherever they can – burglaries, robberies, muggings. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s one of them.’

‘What about the cellsite data?’ Lou asked.

‘Not massively helpful. Whoever used the phone didn’t go outside Briarstone very much. The home cell – that is, the one where calls start from every morning and end up at last thing at night – it’s at the back of the Park Hill estate. Over a thousand homes, and where most of Briarstone’s criminal fraternity live. I’m concentrating on the call traffic from the past few days.’

‘Well – it’s a good start,’ Lou said. ‘Hopefully you should get a better idea about whose phone it is from the data.’

‘We’ve got a good chance of some DNA on the hoodie they found in the car, too,’ Rob said. ‘Going to be a while, though – even prioritising it.’

‘Do you need any help on the analytical front, Zoe? Want me to see if I can get you an extra pair of hands?’

‘No,’ Zoe said, ‘it’s fine. It’ll take some time but it’s not the sort of thing you can really delegate. Thanks, though.’

‘When’s the next briefing?’ Lou asked Rob.

‘Four,’ he said. ‘Probably won’t be much we can add by then, so don’t worry about attending if you’re busy, but we can update Late Turn. And then I’ll do another proper briefing tomorrow morning.’

‘Great,’ Lou said. ‘I’m going to catch up on a few bits – I’ll see you later.’

Back in her office, Lou checked her emails. Jason had replied to her request on Sunday about the burglary crime series. On that impulse she picked up the phone and dialled his direct number.

‘Hi,’ he said, when he answered. Surprise in his voice – her number would have shown on the caller ID.

‘Hi, Jason,’ she said, her tone businesslike. ‘I wonder if you could help me out with something else.’

‘Sure, if I can,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’

‘I was wondering if you could do me another profile. Can you have a look for the latest intel on the Cunningham OCG? Current links to other networks, that kind of thing – and specifically anything outside their usual criminality, i.e. not drugs-related?’

There was a brief pause at the other end of the line. ‘I’m pretty tied up with things right now,’ he said. ‘Is it urgent?’

‘I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t,’ she replied.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said. ‘Bye for now.’

Lou was bulk-deleting emails and almost deleted Jason’s email by accident. He’d sent it ten minutes earlier, when she’d been in the briefing with Rob Jefferson. House-to-house had been completed, with no positive results. The briefing was over quickly and the next one scheduled for tomorrow morning.

She scanned through the email and the attachment, then reached for the phone.

It rang for a while before he answered.

‘Lou,’ he said. ‘I was just on my way out.’

She looked up at the clock on the other side of the room. It was nearly half-past four. ‘Sorry,’ she said, wondering whether he had hockey practice this evening. ‘Not much on the Cunninghams, is there? I’m surprised.’

‘There are a few more – stopchecks and associations. But you said you just wanted the stuff on any criminal activity that wasn’t drug distribution, right?’

‘Well – yes. I suppose so,’ Lou said, thinking it wouldn’t have killed him to be a bit more thorough. Oh, well.
‘I guess I can look the rest up myself. Anyway, thank you for the report.’

‘You’re welcome,’ he said, ‘although you know I can’t keep doing you favours.’

Lou bristled. ‘I wasn’t aware I was asking you for a favour,’ she said.

‘You have Zoe Adams working on that job,’ he said. ‘She’s a great analyst, and when you asked if she needed any help she rightly told you she didn’t. So I’m not sure why you asked me to do the report and not her.’

Lou stood up. This wasn’t a conversation that would be helped in any way by her being seated. ‘Zoe Adams has a lot of urgent things to do,’ she said coldly. ‘I asked you to do something that’s part of your job. If you were too busy to do it, you could have just said so. I’d appreciate it if you would be honest in future if you don’t feel able to help.’

‘Hey, I just don’t want to feel like I’m your tame analyst for the rest of my life, because we have a relationship.’

Lou took a deep breath. ‘Well, I’m glad you’ve made your feelings on that subject so crystal clear.’

‘Don’t be like that,’ he said. ‘This isn’t personal.’

‘You’re the one who just made it personal,’ she said. But the fight had gone out of her.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘It feels like I keep making things worse.’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘That’s exactly what you’re doing. I don’t even know why I’m still speaking to you.’

‘If it’s any good,’ he said, ‘I just found another intel report that might be of some use. It’s still about drugs, though, sorry.’

He hadn’t just done the minimum, then. At least he’d carried on looking. ‘Oh, really? Why was it not with the others?’

‘I think it got missed because someone has spelled “Cunningham” wrong, and they created a duplicate nominal. I’ll email it to you.’

‘Right,’ she said. And, grudgingly, ‘Thanks.’

‘I’ll call you in the morning,’ he said, ‘in case there’s anything else you need.’

‘Don’t bother,’ she said, but with a smile now. ‘I’ll find myself another tame analyst.’

A few moments later, her email server pinged.

Even though she was the last one in the incident room, Lou still felt a twinge of guilt when she shut down her workstation and rooted through her bag for her car keys. She didn’t usually finish this early when a new job had come in, but it had been a long day and she was shattered. Arguing with Jason didn’t help. All her focus had gone.

Five minutes later, sitting in stationary traffic in the one-way system, Lou remembered the other reason why she never left at this time. The misspelled intelligence Jason had found was twisting around inside her head. Something about it bothered her, and not just the sloppy work that had caused it to be misplaced on the database.

So the Cunningham OCG and the McDonnell OCG were in dispute – this was new. They’d never been in competition before. The McDonnells concentrated on trafficking; even importing drugs was only a sideline for them, and according to the intelligence most of the drugs they brought into the country went north, bypassing Eden altogether. Cunningham controlled the drugs market in Briarstone, everyone knew that, even the McDonnells – as far back as Lou could remember, they’d skirted around each other and didn’t step on each other’s toes. Didn’t associate or collaborate, either, which had always been a good thing. But now they were in opposition, just because one of Cunningham’s runners had been warned about dealing in a pub? There had to be more to it.

If the McDonnells were involved, the pub referred to was probably one of the pubs owned by Carl McVey – one of the intel reports had said he was money laundering for them – and Aaron Sutcliffe had said Palmer had been dealing in the Railway Tavern.

So the runner that had been warned off dealing in one of McVey’s pubs – what if that had been Ian Palmer? Aaron Sutcliffe had told Les that Ian was dealing for either Cunningham or Mitchell Roberts, and everything they knew about Ian Palmer and his family suggested that if he was working for anyone it would be Cunningham. But that didn’t explain why he’d ended up in hospital – even if he’d been dealing in McVey’s pub, even if he’d been warned off – putting him in a coma seemed extreme, even for the McDonnell OCG.

By the time she got home, Lou’s head was pounding with it.
Enough
. It would keep, at least until she’d taken some painkillers and had a shower; perhaps then it would start to make sense.

But if that was it – if Palmer had been assaulted because he’d pissed off Carl McVey – it was possible that Cunningham had retaliated. Considering the level of violence involved, it seemed likely that the intel was right. There was a feud, a bad one; and it was escalating right on Lou’s doorstep.

‘I probably shouldn’t be doing this,’ Sam said.

‘Doing what?’

‘Giving you lifts everywhere.’

They were driving back to the hotel, without Juliette, who was going to be brought over later by Caro Sumner. They had managed to get authorisation to put Juliette up in the same hotel for tonight, since she clearly couldn’t go home: it was still a crime scene and nobody was allowed anywhere near the house until that particular part of the investigation was complete. Sam had called through to the duty inspector in the control room to get authorisation for a second room at the Travel Inn. Halfway through an embarrassing discussion about budgets and cuts and why they couldn’t share a room when they were sisters, Scarlett had interrupted and told Sam that she didn’t mind sharing. Sam still felt uncomfortable about it, given that Scarlett and Juliette hadn’t seen each other for years and were in the middle of a particularly stressful situation. But Scarlett did not seem bothered by the prospect; on the contrary, she seemed almost happy.

‘Are you sure you don’t want me to take you to the hospital instead, to see your mother?’ Sam asked.

‘No. She’s unconscious – it’s not like I can do anything, is it?’

‘Right,’ Sam said, ‘if you’re sure.’

‘What’s going to happen tomorrow?’ Scarlett asked.

‘Tomorrow?’

‘With the hotel. You only got me two nights, didn’t you? This is the last one.’

‘You can still engage with the National Referral Mechanism, you know. If you’ve been trafficked, they can get you access to housing, all of that…’

‘I can’t do that,’ Scarlett said quickly.

‘All right. I’ll speak to the boss in the morning about the hotel.’

‘Honestly, it’s fine about the sharing, if that helps at all. Juliette won’t care.’

‘How do you know?’ Sam said.

Scarlett looked away, out of the window. ‘If she does, I’m sure she’ll tell you.’

They drove in silence for a few minutes. It had been a long day and Sam was more tired than she’d felt in years. All she could think about was whether there was something edible in the freezer at home, and whether she was going to cook it before or after falling asleep in a deep, warm bath.

The car park at the hotel was almost empty, the buildings huddled under the dark evergreen trees looking chilly and desolate.

‘Come in for a drink with me,’ Scarlett said.

‘What?’

‘Please. Just one. I can’t face going in there on my own. Stay with me till Juliette gets here?’

‘Scarlett, I really can’t do this…’

‘What have you got to rush home for?’ Scarlett said.

‘Scarlett, no. It’s not a good idea.’

‘Please. I just… I really need someone to talk to. Please, Sam.’

There was something about her voice that got to Sam. It wasn’t vulnerability.

‘All right,’ she said. ‘One drink.’

There was nobody in the bar. Not even anyone serving, until Sam went into the reception area and asked if they were actually open. A few minutes later the receptionist came in and got Scarlett a pint of lager and a lemonade for Sam.

Scarlett was already sitting in the corner, a pair of comfy chairs to one side of a cold, dead fireplace. ‘Cheerful in here, isn’t it?’

‘Could be worse,’ Sam replied, then saw Scarlett’s expression. They both laughed.

Sam sat down, trying to not let Scarlett see that her cheeks were flushed. She had had a sudden, worrying realisation that Scarlett was flirting with her. Maybe this was what Lou had sensed, when she had accused Sam of letting her objectivity be compromised. It wasn’t. Whatever Scarlett wanted, Sam was definitely not going down that route. Getting too involved with a witness had cost Jo her job, her wellbeing and her relationship with Sam – whether it was a homeless young asylum-seeker or Scarlett, it wasn’t a good idea. Well, it didn’t matter, anyway. Tomorrow Scarlett would have to find somewhere else to go, with her sister, and in a few weeks the likelihood would be that they would no longer be any of Sam’s concern.

‘Listen,’ Scarlett said, ‘there’s something I need to tell you.’

‘Go on,’ she said.

‘It’s not that I’ve lied, or anything like that.’

Here we go.
‘Scarlett,’ Sam said, ‘if this is something serious – we should go and do it properly.’

‘No, no,’ she said. ‘You don’t need to worry. I just need to clear something up.’

‘Right.’

There was direct eye contact between them. Scarlett’s eyes, so like her mother’s. ‘I like you,’ she said. ‘I want to tell you everything. And it feels like you’ve got things a bit wrong somewhere.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I wasn’t trafficked back into the UK. I made my own way here.’

Well, Sam thought, that explained a lot. And nothing at all. ‘How?’

‘I managed to get away. It’s a long story. But anyway, nobody brought me here against my will. So I can’t give you any information about trafficking, and I can’t help you, so there’s no point in me accessing any “referral mechanism”, is there?’

‘So you were in that house in Carisbrooke Court of your own free will?’

‘Yes, I guess so.’

‘You guess so?’

‘I didn’t have anywhere else to go. They let me stay there. I answered the phone, did cleaning, went on errands, that sort of thing. It was better than being on the streets.’

‘Why were you afraid, Scarlett? If they weren’t keeping you there against your will?’

‘I was scared someone would think I’d grassed them up,’ she said.

‘Who?’

‘Any of them. The girls, the men that run them, the punters. It’s not the sort of place you can develop much trust.’

‘Who are the men that run the girls?’