Bad Sister: ‘Tense, convincing… kept me guessing’ Caz Frear, bestselling author of Sweet Little Lies. Sam Carrington

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Bad Sister: ‘Tense, convincing… kept me guessing’ Caz Frear, bestselling author of Sweet Little Lies - Sam  Carrington

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well, that’s better than nothing.’

      ‘Hmmm. But you can tell so much more by watching body language.’

      ‘Skype her then.’

      ‘Hey, Mack. That’s quite clever for you.’

      ‘Sarcasm is overrated.’

      Lindsay checked the time on the laptop. ‘Right, let’s get to the briefing.’ She grabbed the files piled on her desk and pushed up from her chair. It was the second time in as many years that she’d been in Coleton police station, using their rooms as incident rooms. Her base was Middlemoor, in Exeter, but she’d been keen to take the lead on this case. Make up for before. So, back to Coleton it was.

      ‘The pattern of mutilation is interesting.’ The slides moved across the huge white screen projected on to the back wall of the incident room, gruesome shots like those in the god-awful Saw movie that Lindsay had never been able to sit through. She was surprised that any of the prison staff had even recognised this guy when he landed on their doorstep. She pointed to the next slide. The most horrific. She cast her eyes around the room. Some of the team had turned away. ‘Yeah, not good, is it?’

      ‘T’was some angry crackpot who did that,’ a voice from the back declared.

      ‘Actually, I’m not so sure.’ Lindsay took the pointer stick and placed it over the enlarged picture of Eric Hargreaves’ torso. ‘I know it looks a total mess at first glance. But look at the way the body has been quartered. It’s precise. I don’t think someone with anger issues did this. It’s too controlled. They had planned how they were going to do it. This was carried out carefully.’

      ‘So, they had time then, no rush,’ Mack said.

      ‘Precisely. Must’ve had Hargreaves somewhere they considered safe, somewhere they wouldn’t be disturbed for quite some time.’

      ‘What about the writing on his hand – “Connie Moore”? What’s that about?’ DC Sewell asked.

      Mack turned in his chair to direct his response to her. ‘Well, there are various possibilities, but at this early stage we really can’t be sure about any of them.’

      ‘Like what, sir?’

      ‘Depends on who wrote it. If Hargreaves did, then we are never going to really know, but we could assume he had an obsession with her, perhaps. People don’t generally write names on themselves, more likely you write something you don’t want to forget – a number, an item you want from the shop.’

      ‘Or a name you didn’t already know, so that you remember it’s someone you need to speak to, or something?’ DC Sewell said matter-of-factly. ‘And if it was written by the killer?’

      ‘That’s where it becomes tricky,’ Lindsay said. ‘If the killer wrote it, do we assume it was for us? The body was deliberately left outside the prison, a place where it’d be found and police called quickly. So, was the killer leaving it as a clue – ensuring we follow up the lead and interview Connie Summers?’

      ‘Or,’ Mack added, ‘was it to make sure she knew? Knew that Hargreaves had been murdered, that he could no longer do harm to others.’

      ‘Like some kind of gift to her? The guy that ruined her career, served up cold on a platter?’

      ‘It’s a possibility.’

      ‘So our killer potentially knows her, wants to do this for her – a revenge killing, but for someone else’s benefit? Weird,’ Sewell summarised.

      ‘Well, they can’t know her that well. They used Moore, not Summers. They don’t know she changed her name.’

      ‘That’s a possibility, Clarke,’ Mack said, ‘unless they used Moore because that would make us believe it was something to do with her past – her role in the prison.’

      ‘Going back to revenge,’ Anika, the team’s new DC interjected, ‘Hargreaves raped a woman when he was released. It could be that his victim, or her family, decided to hand out their own justice.’

      ‘That’s a line of investigation we’ll be following up, Anika,’ Lindsay said.

      ‘Could he be in love with Summers?’

      ‘Careful, Lloyd. “He”’? We don’t know it’s a he.’

      ‘Must be, Guv. Surely. To overpower him, he’s not small. Then inflict that much damage and then move the body. And dump it quick as lightning at the prison gates before anyone can stop him?’

      ‘Could be more than one person involved,’ a voice piped up.

      ‘Could it also be a warning – that Connie Summers is going to be next?’ another DC asked from the back – the whole room was beginning to buzz with questions; possibilities.

      ‘Hang on, hang on, guys.’ Lindsay stood up, both hands held out in front of her. She looked to Mack, wondering if he’d voiced his earlier concern to any of the team. He didn’t meet her gaze. ‘Let’s keep calm; focused. We don’t want to jump the gun – talk serial killer just yet.’

      The room fell silent. Lindsay continued.

      ‘I want us to concentrate on the most likely first. We won’t rule anything out, but let’s not get carried away either.’

      ‘We need that psychologist in here, so we can interview her. Get her to tell us everything she’s ever known about Hargreaves,’ DC Sewell offered. ‘And about any attention – male and female – that she’s had over the last year or two. That could lead to names we can check out, Boss.’

      ‘Okay. Yes, that’s more in line with how I wanted to approach things.’ Lindsay rubbed the back of her neck. ‘I was hoping to get her in as an advisor.’ She perched on the edge of the long table and crossed her arms. ‘I feel she’d open up more, talk freely, if we gave her a role rather than treat her as a person of interest.’

      ‘She’s worked with the police before,’ Mack said. ‘She’s given independent expert witness evidence, profiled criminals, that sort of thing; I think she’ll be helpful in that capacity. It’s just getting her here. Whatever route we take though, she’s the person who knows the most about the victim at this point, so we need to tread carefully.’

      Lindsay was silent for a moment, then she nodded. ‘Agreed. Let’s sort a game plan then, shall we?’

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       Connie

      So, she wasn’t as ‘out’ of the investigation as she’d planned. Connie closed her eyes, shutting out the faces of the other passengers. She failed to shut out the voices though. The ones in her mind – warning of danger to come. Her head lolled, until it touched the coolness of the window. It bumped gently against it as the train rumbled along the track towards Coleton.

      It had become very

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