The Creeper

‘Let’s hope she gets the chance.’

Rose reddened. ‘Sorry. I meant…’

‘I know.’

‘We can talk to him again, if you think we should, but to be honest…’ She shrugged.

‘Not a priority.’

‘I doubt it.’

So, armed with that and the hope she had made a new ally, she had gone off to the Speech Therapy Department at Colchester General.

There were other officers and uniforms taking statements from other members of staff but Anni, being of senior rank, was interviewing Hazel Mills.

She was a small woman. Compact, Anni would have said. In her late forties with short, greying hair and wearing a striped, mannish blouse, linen trousers and little make-up, she was clear-eyed and sharp-featured. But not today. Those eyes were wide and threatening tears, her featured blurred and unfocused.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Anni. She hated this part of the job. Seeing the carefully constructed worlds of ordinary people collapse. It always made her think of the Shakespeare she had studied at school. Macbeth. The death of Banquo, the spectre at the feast. The reminder that no matter how much people try and forget, go about their ordinary lives, follow their dreams, indulge their passions and make their wishes, it all, ultimately, stands for nothing. Because it can be taken away so easily, so arbitrarily. And where a work colleague or friend or lover should be there’s now just a void. An ache. And with it another reminder: That’ll be me one day. One day there’ll be a world without me in it.

If that hadn’t yet happened to Hazel Mills, if she hadn’t quite reached that stage, thought Anni, she soon would.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Anni once more.

Hazel Mills nodded, barely hearing her. She reached for a box of tissues on the corner of her desk, pulled one out. Then another. Rubbed her eyes with them. Kept them there a long time.

Anni waited for her to look up, then continued. ‘It happened quite quickly,’ she said. ‘To Zoe. She wouldn’t have suffered.’

Hazel Mills nodded. ‘Does… have you told her, her boyfriend yet?’

‘Someone’s there now.’

‘And, and… Suzanne?’

‘We don’t know. Yet.’ Anni leaned forward. ‘Obviously we’re doing all we can to find her.’

Hazel Mills nodded once more. Anni wasn’t sure she had heard her. She looked at her, trying to make eye contact.

‘But we need help. D’you mind if I ask you some questions, please…’ Anni checked the woman’s fingers for wedding rings, ‘… Ms Mills?’

‘Go ahead.’ She blew her nose, blinked the tears from her eyes, took a deep breath, sat stiff and erect, her body tensed as if ready to ward off blows.

Anni looked down at her notes. ‘Did you know Suzanne had a stalker?’

Hazel Mills leaned back in her chair, thoughtful. Anni got the impression she was a very serious person although she clearly wasn’t seeing her at her best. ‘I… yes.’

‘She told you?’

‘Word… got out. There was talk so I asked her outright. And she was honest with me. Told me it was something that had happened when she was at university. All over and done with. All in the past.’ She sighed and Anni thought she was about to start crying again.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘We’re a small unit here. We all have to work together. Get on. That’s one of the things I look for in staff when I employ them. I like to create a… nurturing environment. The two girls fitted in very well with that.’ Her bottom lip trembled. She bit it. ‘I take a personal interest in my staff ’s welfare.’ She sniffed, dabbed her nose. ‘I’m sorry.’

Anni nodded, said nothing. There was nothing she could say.

‘So this stalker problem Suzanne mentioned,’ said Anni, keeping the questions going, keeping Hazel Mills’ mind occupied, ‘it was all over and done with by the time she came to work here.’

Hazel Mills nodded. ‘She hadn’t been here that long really. Just before Christmas. She wasn’t long out of university.’

‘I know. And she had no trouble here?’

Hazel Mills shook her head.

‘Did she mention the name Anthony Howe?’

Hazel Mills frowned. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell…’ She sighed again, dabbed away at her tears. ‘This is awful. Especially after what happened to that occupational therapist. Like we’re cursed, here…’

Anni’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Occupational therapist?’

Hazel Mills nodded. ‘Julie.’

‘Julie Miller?’

Hazel Mills’ eyes widened. ‘You know her? You know what’s happened to her?’

‘Let’s talk some more.’

39

Rose Martin stood outside the house on Greenstead Road once more. Knocked. Waited.

She hadn’t been paying attention the previous evening. She knew that and wasn’t proud of the fact. If she had she would have listened to her gut instinct. She had during the night. Virtually all night. Playing back one aspect or another of the previous day. Some more times than others. Some things kept her awake longer than others. Like Mark Turner. The more she had thought about him, the more she thought there was something off about his manner. She couldn’t define it, couldn’t explain it. But it was there. And she should have noticed it.

But she wasn’t going to dwell on that. She was going to put it all behind her – along with most of the previous day – and work on it now.

Another knock. Another wait. At least there was no level crossing siren this time.

She heard Phil’s voice in her head. Julie Miller was your case and she still is… go through her background again.

Right. Again.

… anything that sticks out, anything that can be flagged up… She knew what he meant. It was just an exercise to see if she’d made a mistake, another slip-up. Find something else he could pick up on, beat her with. Like she was going to give him the chance.

Another knock, harder this time, more impatient.

Nothing.

And no mavericking.

Right. Ben would vouch for her. He was a DCI. His word mattered.

She waited. Nothing.

Then turned, walked away.

The level crossing siren just starting to ring out.

‘Tell me about Julie Miller, Ms Mills.’

‘She… worked as part of the department.’

‘Here? On your team?’

‘No. On this wing, though. We have a structure here in therapy management. Different branches under one heading. The OTs and the SALTs come under the same Therapy umbrella. As well as Nutrition and Dietetics, Neuro and Health Psychology-’

‘Sorry? SALTs? OTs?’