Chapter Forty
JEN STAYED AT HOME LONG ENOUGHto have breakfast with the kids.
She knocked at the door of his room and went in.
It was a small room, always dark.
He never drew the curtains.
It smelled of teenage boy, unwashed sheets and stale pizza.
On the desk next to the bed, his computer seemed more alive than her son.
Hed probably been on it for most of the night.
Some game with his friends.
Killing people for fun.
Or checking out unsavoury chatrooms?
She was tempted to look, but he woke, looked at her, grunted.
Youll be late for school.
She couldnt bring herself to be cross.
He looked very young, half asleep.
Breakfast is on the table.
She phoned Lucys dad, Maurice, to find out when would be a good time to visit.
Well, really, he said, you should be phoning our Luce.
The social workers say that I should be letting her make those sorts of decisions.
She should be speaking for herself.
His voice was slow, his accent as rich and broad as his daughters.
I dont have her phone number, though.
Jen left a pause.
I was hoping you might be there, Maurice.
Shell be a bit more confident with you around, and I dont always understand her speech so well.
Shes not on shift at the Woodyard until this afternoon, Maurice replied.
Jen could tell that he was delighted to have an excuse to visit his daughter.
I was planning to come into Barnstaple to do a bit of shopping anyway.
Both women were wearing black and looked gaunt.
Even Martha was looking away from the camera, not playing up to the crowd.
Cynthia was easy to find.
Jen chose an image of her friend wearing a vivid red and pink silk dress.
It felt like a kind of bereavement.
They stood next to a small estate of family social housing and looked out over a childrens playground.
Jen used the Woodyard car park and walked past the centre to reach Lucys place.
Just as she was passing the Woodyard entrance, she saw Cynthia approaching from inside.
She was carrying a rolled-up yoga mat.
It would be impossible to avoid bumping into her.
Cynthia stopped and shrugged.
It sounded like an admission of failure.
This wasnt the old Cynthia of high energy and endless optimism.
Hes working twelve-hour days and when hes home he locks himself in the office.
He seems to be awake most of the night.
She looked straight at Jen.
Im worried about him.
Even when things were really bad in London, he wasnt this low.
You think hes depressed?
I mean, clinically depressed?
Yeah, I do.
Cynthia was on the verge of tears.
Ive said he should go to a doctor, but he tells me to leave him alone.
Against the world and me.
For some reason he blames me for all thats happening to him.
We were never soulmates, you know.
We never lived in each others pockets.
But in a way, that was why it worked.
I feel as if Ive lost him.
She looked at her watch.
She should be chatting to Lucy.
Will you be around all morning?
Ill call in, shall I?
you’re free to make me one of your spectacular coffees.
A moment of silence.
Jen thought that if the offer was rejected, the friendship would be over for good.
Yeah, she said.
Id really like that.
She held her arms wide.
Theres a care worker onsite, Maurice said, but Luce manages everything, dont you, maid?
We need your help again, Jen said, but theres no danger this time.
The last statement was aimed at Maurice, not Lucy.
I just need you to look at a few pictures.
Let me know if you saw any of these women on Sunday after Wesley had been in the cafe.
If you finished work soon after, you might have noticed someone while you were walking home.
Sure, Lucy said.
Jen thought she was proud to be asked and desperate to help.
Its not a test, Luce.
Its just as important you tell me if you dont see anyone you know.
I just dont remember seeing anyone, she said.
Theyd texted to say they were on their way home.
I thought I could walk back to the flat with them.
I saw them get off the bus and I waited for them to join me.
The car blocked their view.
She paused for a moment.
Thats a bit weird, isnt it?
Because the centre was closing, so why would anyone come in?
What sort of car, Lucy?
Jen tried to keep any sense of urgency from her voice.
I dont know anything about cars.
Now she was starting to sound anxious and upset.
Jen could tell that Maurice was about to call a halt to the whole conversation.
He fidgeted in his seat and wiped his forehead with a large, white handkerchief.
Oh, nor do I. Jen jumped in before he could speak.
But you might remember a colour.
A big, black car.
I dont suppose you could tell if it was being driven by a man or a woman?
Lucy shook her head.
I was looking out for my mates getting off the bus, and then we were chatting.
Jen left Maurice and Lucy sitting together and drinking more coffee.
She was thinking that the father needed the company far more than the daughter did.
In the end, Cynthiawasin the garden, in the chair where theyd had their last conversation.
There was a bottle of Pinot Gris in an ice bucket and shed already poured herself a glass.
No chance of a fancy coffee, then.
Youre starting a bit early.
Jen took a seat beside her.
She thought this was like being in an entirely different country or continent.
The rainforest or some maharajas garden in India.
Its lunchtime, Cynthia said.
Its civilized to have a small glass with lunch.
Two plates, two knives and another glass.
You will join me?
Cynthia pushed across a plate and a knife, then poured Jen a glass of wine.
She seemed more composed than when shed bumped into Jen outside the Woodyard, more in control.
Shed prepared herself for the encounter.
I shouldnt have the wine.
You know the boss.
But Jen took a sip all the same.
This was more important than Venns rules.
What do you thinks going on with Roger?
Re-establishing a friendship was important, of course.
But so was eating when you were given a chance in the middle of an investigation.
Well, I dont think he killed Nigel Yeo and the others.
Cynthia was prickly again.
The tension made her voice shrill.
Im here as a mate, Jen said.
Youre always a cop.
There was no real answer to that and it was Cynthia who spoke next.
Im worried about what he might do.
I know he would never harm other people.
Hes given his life to the NHS, to saving lives.
He might not be a medic, but hes supported them, fought for them.
Battled with the government for more resources.
It was that passion that made me fall for him.
Do you think he might be so depressed that hed consider taking his own life?
Is that what youre saying?
There was a moment of silence broken by the raucous call of a magpie.
Yes, Cynthia said.
You know, really, I think that he might.
Do you know what hes doing when hes spending all that time in the house in his office?
What do you mean?
Cynthia had drunk her wine.
She poured herself another glass.
Weve been investigating Mack Mackenzies browsing history.
He was a member of a chatroom called Peace at Last.
Its a support group for people considering suicide.
Within that, theres a core group who call themselves the Suicide Club.
That seems to be made up of more desperate members.
Were worried that one or more of those people are actively encouraging or provoking people to kill themselves.
You think Roger might be a member?
Now soundless tears were running down Cynthias face.
That he could be considering suicide?
Im worried that it might be possible.
He was in touch with the professionals treating Luke Wallace, as well as those looking after Mack.
We know that both young men were members of the group.
And they both killed themselves.
Yes, they both killed themselves.
And Roger might have had access to enough information from the medics treating them to find the site.
I dont know what to do.
The tears were still streaming down Cynthias face.
Do you have the passcode for his computer?
We could get in and look.And I could find out whether or not he calls himself the Crow.
The office is his personal space.
I never go in when hes not here.
Ive got to go, she said.
It always is work, isnt it?
Theres no escape for you.
The words sounded like an accusation.
She was still crying.
Jen took the woman into her arms and squeezed her tight.
For a moment, Cynthia relaxed enough to allow herself to be hugged.
If hes found that website, I can see it could become a kind of obsession.
Chapter Forty-One
TECHIE STEVE HAD A FLAT ABOVEa florists shop in a lane just off Boutport Street.
The smell of the blooms soaking in the buckets outside hit Ross as he waited to be let in.
As Ross remembered, it was like moving to the back of a cave.
A smell that would set alarm bells ringing with environmental health.
This is where Steve was waiting after Ross had pressed the buzzer and climbed into the gloom.
The cyber expert was wearing a filthy fleece dressing gown.
Nothing else as far as Ross could tell.
He stood, blinking.
F—, man, what do you want?
This feels like the middle of the night.
Its mid-morning and this is urgent.
Where have you got with tracing the Suicide Club members?
Something else came in, Steve muttered, still half asleep.
Well, this is a matter of life and death.
Ross looked at him with something close to disgust.
How could someone who was so brightand so mintedlive like this?
And you promised youd stay on it.
