Lanced with guilt last night, he had confessed to her his treatment of Jodie and said that his courage had failed. ‘But we didn’t do what she said,’ he’d added, desperate to keep her esteem. Bushra had hugged him tightly. ‘I know you didn’t. The son I raised wouldn’t act like that.’ She kissed his hair and released him. ‘I don’t know how far this will go and right now it’s important that we face it together. I know that you’re a good person. When this is over, however, I would like to discuss how you treated that girl.’
‘I know,’ Mo said quietly. His mother, who loved him fiercely like a child deserved, expected the conduct of an adult. He had failed her, but when this mess with Jodie was over, he would vow to be a better person. A single moment of weakness would not define his entire life. The mistake would be righted and they’d all move on – and surely that would be soon. After all, it was four against one.
Zara grappled for her phone and cursed when she saw the time. Sure enough, there were several missed calls: two from Stuart at Artemis House and another one from Erin. She texted Stuart an apology and then stumbled to the bathroom. Her throat was parched and her tongue held the whispery texture of cotton. She slipped two fingers under the cold tap and ran them over her eyes, wiping away the sleep. The cool water of the shower calmed her pounding head.
Her mind snaked to Luka and clasped his words like a bitter nut at its centre. Even he couldn’t stand you by the end. She heard the sound of her palm on his flesh and saw the rising colour in his cheek. She closed her eyes and willed him away, refusing to accept her guilt.
Drying off, she returned to the bedroom and rifled through her closet for a pair of jeans, a T-shirt and a blazer. She pulled on her ballet flats, grabbed her bag and headed out the door to her car. Her phone began to ring just as she drove off. She answered it clumsily and switched to speakerphone.
‘I tried to call you.’ Erin was impatient. ‘Listen, I spoke to Farid, the spectator. I caught him after football practice. Here’s the thing: I’m not sure your girl is being a hundred per cent honest.’
Zara felt the car swerve beneath her. ‘You what?’
‘I don’t think she’s telling the whole truth. I believe the boy.’
‘Why? What did he say?’
Erin recounted the meeting. ‘Either he’s telling the truth or he’s a complete sociopath,’ she said matter of factly.
Zara tutted. ‘Come on, Erin. You’re better than this.’ She knew the barb would annoy her and this was partly intended. How could she decide that Jodie was lying without hearing her account first-hand?
Erin sidestepped the bait. ‘All I’m saying, Zara, is tread carefully. This girl may not be as innocent as she looks. People rarely are.’
Zara frowned. Could Jodie’s pitiful gait and disfigured face be hiding a secret cunning? She didn’t believe it for a second, but placated Erin nonetheless. ‘I’ll tread carefully.’ She said goodbye and focused her grinding mind on the road.
Half an hour later, she was at her desk. Stuart sat opposite, speaking in a measured tone that only occasionally exposed his dwindling patience.
‘What are you not telling me?’ he asked.
Zara shook her head. ‘I overslept. Really, that’s all.’
‘Yes, and the first time it happened, I believed you. We’ve been through this, Zara. You’re one of the best lawyers I’ve ever met and you’re sure as hell the best advisor we’ve had in this place, but this isn’t a shift at Tesco. You’re not stacking shelves. If you don’t turn up to work, the women we look after don’t get the level of care they’re owed.’
Zara bit down her shame. ‘I’m sorry. I am. It won’t happen again.’
He leaned forward, his voice softening a notch. ‘That’s what you said last time.’ He ran a restless hand through his hair. ‘Seriously, what’s going on?’
‘I overslept, that’s all.’
Stuart’s lips came together in a tight, thin line, holding back words he might later regret. ‘Okay, fine.’ He pressed a Post-it note onto her desk. ‘The detective on Jodie Wolfe’s case called. You might want to call her back.’ With that, he stood and left.
Zara tried to shrug off the guilt but it clung heavily to her shoulders. Were it anyone else, she would wave away the criticism but Stuart was one of the few truly selfless people in her life. He wasn’t concerned with feeding his ego or chasing profits; he simply wanted to help their clients. The knowledge of that made her cheeks burn hot. She threaded her fingers through her hair and grabbed angry fistfuls. What was she doing? Her mind posed then denied a series of accusations: No, I’m not bad at my job. No, I shouldn’t just quit. No, I don’t have to stop using – it’s just harmless release.
Listlessly, she picked up the note. Four words were written in Stuart’s expansive scrawl: ‘I have news. Mia.’ Zara’s heart rate quickened and she picked up the phone and dialled.
Mia answered promptly. ‘I take it you received my message?’
‘Yes. Sorry, I’ve had a crazy morning.’
A short laugh. ‘Yes, unfortunately I’m all too familiar with those.’ Mia waited a beat. ‘So, Jodie’s clothes are positive for semen. We’re trying to expedite the DNA tests.’
Zara felt a flush of relief. ‘That’s great news.’
‘I haven’t spoken to Jodie yet. I thought you might like to tell her.’
Zara was oddly touched by the gesture. ‘Thank you. Do you know when we’ll get the results?’
‘Right now, I’m told three weeks.’
‘Christ.’ Zara flicked through her diary and marked out a date. ‘Have you found anything you can use on the boys’ electronics?’
‘No, nothing yet,’ Mia sighed. ‘They use these so-called “ephemeral apps” and everything gets deleted after twenty-four hours.’
Zara tapped a pen against the page. ‘Listen, check if the boys are on Jabdam. It’s a Korean app that allows users to post anonymous rumours about each other, tagged by location. It came up in a past case of mine. The app’s not governed by GDPR and we can access all the data that’s ever been posted on their platform – even if it was set to expire.’
Mia brightened. ‘What would we be looking for?’
‘Anything that’s tagged Bow or East London and that mentions Amir or Jodie – or any of them. Maybe one of the boys couldn’t help bragging, or a friend of a friend knows something.’
‘Good call.’ Mia scrawled down the details. ‘I’ll let you know if we find anything.’
‘Okay,’ Zara paused. ‘Hey Mia, one more thing. When you canvas the neighbours, greet them with Assalamu Alaikum if they’re Muslim. They’ll likely be tight-lipped and this might help disarm them.’
‘Thanks,’
