Название: Cruel Acts
Автор: Jane Casey
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Maeve Kerrigan
isbn: 9780008149055
isbn:
Derwent peered out of the car. ‘It looks like a safe enough area.’
‘It is. And they’d lived here for a year. She knew exactly where she was and she knew the quickest way home was going to be on foot.’
‘She should have been safe here.’ After a moment, he focused on me again. ‘So what route did she take?’
‘We don’t know.’ I pulled out a map I’d printed off. ‘This is Haddaway Road where she was heading. The direct route is along this road here, Haigh Road, leading into Radcliffe Road.’
‘Any reason to think she didn’t go that way?’
‘A bit of her mobile phone handset was found on Radcliffe Road in a hedge.’
‘OK. Sounds promising.’
I flattened the map out and pointed to a star I’d drawn. ‘It was here. Quite a long way from the path. I wonder if it was thrown out of a moving vehicle.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘This sighting of a couple arguing.’ I leafed through the file and pulled out the witness statement. ‘The witness was a Mrs Hamilton. She lives on Cordray Road, here.’ I showed him where it was on the map. ‘She was driving home and happened to glance along a side street in this area – she couldn’t be specific about which street it was but it was somewhere off Simpson Road.’
Simpson Road was about a quarter of a mile south of Haigh Road. ‘That’s way off the route she should have been taking,’ Derwent said.
‘Exactly. It was around the right time though. The investigators spent a lot of time trying to get Mrs Hamilton to remember anything else but she wasn’t a great witness, reading between the lines. She got more and more confused and in the end she said she couldn’t be sure of anything she’d told them. She withdrew her statement.’
Derwent groaned. ‘Good work, lads.’
‘It was a dark night, she was driving, she glanced down a side street and sort of saw two people who might have been arguing. It wasn’t going to make or break the case even if she remembered every detail.’
‘What did she say about the man?’
‘Nothing. He was standing behind a white van. She didn’t see more than the back of his head.’
‘Leo Stone’s pretty distinctive. He’s tall, for one thing. She’d have noticed that, surely.’
‘She said not. All she could say was that he was taller than the woman.’
‘How tall was Sara Grey?’
‘Five two.’
‘Right, so my nan would be taller than her.’
‘Yeah. It wasn’t altogether helpful testimony. Wrong place, right time, few details.’ I tapped my pen on the map. ‘The van, though.’
‘I like the van.’
‘We all like the van. It’s one of the only points of comparison we’ve got, apart from where the body ended up and how it was left, and that’s Dr Hanshaw’s territory.’ I didn’t need to say the rest because Derwent knew as well as I did that if that was called into question, we could lose Sara Grey altogether. The pathologist’s evidence was a big part of what had put Leo Stone behind bars. Without it, he could walk for good.
Derwent opened his door. ‘Let’s follow her route. Work out the timings. What time did Mrs Hamilton see the arguing couple?’
‘Half past eleven.’
‘So how long did she have to get there?’
‘Fifteen minutes or so.’
He looked me up and down. ‘Your legs are about twice as long as Sara Grey’s. You’ll have to take baby steps.’
Even with Derwent slowing me down (‘Oi, giraffe, put the brakes on’) it was possible to walk as far as Simpson Road in fifteen minutes. The area was middle-class, quiet, the houses well kept. It had been two and a half years since Sara Grey disappeared and there was no point in looking for evidence but I imagined her walking home, moving fast, her head down, and I wondered how she could have ended up so far off course. For once, Derwent was thinking the same as me.
‘Why would you go this way?’ He pulled the map out of my hand and studied it, frowning. ‘If we assume Mrs H was right about what she saw.’
‘These are busier roads than the direct route. Maybe she wanted to stay where there were more people around. Alternatively, something was making her uneasy. If someone was following her, she might have taken a different route home, trying to shake them off.’
‘Wouldn’t she have wanted to go straight home? Get indoors where she was safe?’
‘Not if she was concerned about them knowing where she lived. She’d never feel safe again if she led them to her door, even if she made it inside without coming to grief.’
Derwent shook his head and walked away.
‘What?’
‘Just …’ He swung back to face me. ‘What a way to live, that’s all. Working out what risks to take. Who to trust. Walking fifteen minutes out of your way to give yourself a better chance of making it home in one piece.’
‘That’s life, isn’t it? What’s the alternative? Staying at home?’
‘Maybe.’
‘You’re not serious.’ I folded my arms. ‘If anyone should stay at home, it’s men. They’re the ones who cause most of the trouble.’
‘Like that’s going to happen.’
‘Well, women shouldn’t have to hide away either.’
‘It’s for your own good.’
‘You have to live,’ I said quietly. ‘You look over your shoulder. You check who else is in your train carriage. It’s second nature – like looking both ways when you cross the road.’
‘I don’t always look both ways.’
‘I know.’ I had hauled him back onto the pavement out of harm’s way more than once. ‘I can’t decide if it’s male privilege in action or reckless stupidity.’
‘Bit of both.’
I started walking back towards the car. ‘Let’s assume for a minute that Leo is our killer. What was he doing here? He doesn’t seem to have any connection with the area. He didn’t grow up here. He never lived here. So why go hunting here?’
‘Good point.’ Derwent looked around. ‘This is the sort of area you’d only visit if you had a reason to. What are we close to? Westfield?’
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