Little Boy Blue - страница 53

‘You’re way off the mark,’ Helen lied.

‘Am I? I spared you last time because you persuaded me that that was the right thing to do. But I’m seriously starting to question the wisdom of my decis-’

‘You spared me?’ Helen replied, incredulous. ‘You spared yourself. If you’d printed that stuff I would have had you up on a charge of illegal surveillance. Don’t kid yourself that you’re a decent person, Emilia, because you’re not.’

‘Fighting talk,’ Emilia replied tersely, irked by this character assassination. ‘Let’s see where it gets you, shall we?’

Happy that she’d had the last word, Emilia turned and walked back in the direction of the flats. She had won the first battle. The question now was whether she would win the war.

Helen barely registered the other road users as she biked back to Southampton Central. She was riding slowly for once – she needed to buy herself time to think. This case was becoming ever more complicated, with no immediate or obvious solution in sight. What had started as a terrible personal tragedy had grown into something darker and Helen now faced a fight on two fronts – bringing in a devious and elusive serial killer, while fending off the very real threat of exposure.

Strange to say, the latter terrified Helen as much as the former. Privacy and discretion had always been her watchwords – it was the only way she knew – but now she was backed into an impossible corner. It would not be easy to spike Emilia’s guns, nor tell what she might do with the information she now held close. Emilia would know that any attempt at extortion would be rebuffed – Helen would rather sacrifice her career than be turned – so what other option did she have but to publish? A detailed and lengthy exposé, highlighting the terrible conflict of interest that Helen had swallowed in the interests of gaining justice? Helen could well imagine how that story would play with the top brass.

Helen knew that there was only one possible solution, but still she recoiled from it. She had never wanted anyone to know her properly, never wanted anyone to get close to her. Her life was like it was for a reason. But the cat was out of the bag now and the only remedy was to confess, before Emilia beat her to the punch. The thought made her feel sick – how could she even find the words to begin? – and there was no question of her opening herself up for general entertainment. No, if she did this it would have to be targeted, controlled and brief. And it would have to be now – there was no telling what Emilia would do and Helen refused to be driven off this case by public outrage.

Leaving her bike in the Southampton Central car park, Helen stopped to look up at the windows above. There was no point putting it off.

It was time to talk to Gardam.

Charlie stared at the unshaven lump opposite her, trying to hide her distaste as he crammed a dripping fried egg sandwich into his mouth. Chewing noisily, the middle-aged cabbie eventually looked up, catching her gaze.

‘You having something?’ he asked.

‘I’ve already eaten,’ Charlie replied, lying. She was trying to lose a bit of weight and the fare at the transport café didn’t fit the bill.

‘Suit yourself,’ the cabbie replied, taking a noisy slurp of his coffee, before popping a chipolata in his mouth. Charlie was paying for his breakfast this morning and he was clearly going to get the most out of her generosity.

‘You spoke to one of my colleagues yesterday?’

The cabbie nodded.

‘You told her you were working on Tuesday night?’

‘I work every night, love. Don’t have a choice.’

Charlie smiled sympathetically.

‘And you had an unusual pick-up between the hours of midnight and one a.m.’

The cabbie shrugged. ‘You get all sorts doing a night shift. But this one was a bit odd.’

‘Odd how?’

‘Well, it was a bloke for a start. I thought she… he was a bird at first. Long legs, long hair, nice clothes and that. But the voice was too low and he had an Adam’s apple, so…’

‘So what specifically was odd?’

‘You mean apart from that?’ the cabbie replied, laughing.