‘You can take the boy away from temptation, but you can’t take temptation out of the boy.’
‘Something like that.’
‘Did you still see her and your children?’
He nodded. ‘She is and always has been very civilized. I only see her three or four times a year, but we talk on the phone every week or so. They all still live in Brighton. My son is like his mother, solid and reliable. He’s a criminal lawyer.’
‘Prosecution, I hope?’
Marilyn smiled. ‘He inherited one thing from me, at least.’
‘And your daughter?’
‘She’s a dancer.’
‘Ballet?’ Jessie asked, noting the expression on Marilyn’s face in response to her question, knowing his answer before he spoke it.
‘Pole. Stripping.’
‘Ah.’
‘A dancer, a drinker and a druggie.’
‘Lots of Ds.’
‘Better than Bs?’ The ghost of a cynical smile crossed his face. ‘She inherited too much from me and not enough from her mum. She’s a disaster. My fault, of course.’
‘Is that what your ex-wife says?’
‘That’s what I say.’
Jessie laid her knife and fork on the empty plate. She had felt slightly nauseous since she’d woken, probably the result of another disturbed night’s sleep. She hadn’t thought she’d eat much, but she had polished off the lot and felt better for doing so. Resting her chin on steepled fingers, she met Marilyn’s gaze. ‘Why are you telling me all this, Marilyn?’
‘Because I want you to know that I’m not just a machine.’
Her gaze moved pointedly from the black coffee with two sugars in his right hand to the cigarette in his left. ‘I already know that you’re not a machine, Marilyn.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Remind me never to have breakfast with a psychologist.’
‘Or lunch. Or dinner.’
‘What I mean is—’ he broke off.
‘I know what you mean. You want me to know that you have a life, a perspective, outside the police. That it – Carolynn, Zoe, Jodie Trigg – is not just about a result, that you can be objective.’
He gave a wry smile. ‘Had a life, maybe. But it is important that you understand where I’m coming from. I went after Carolynn Reynolds hard because I believed that she murdered her daughter. The only DNA on little Zoe’s body was hers. Her fingerprints were all over the doll, the shells, her footprints, leading up to and around the murder site, the only ones we could identify.’
‘Finding her daughter’s body, as she claimed, would leave the same forensic traces,’ Jessie cut in. ‘And if the killer was smart and forensically aware, it’s probable that they would have left very little, if any forensic trace, which Carolynn then smothered with her own.’
‘It wasn’t just forensics. Her whole demeanour didn’t fit with the mother of a murdered daughter, Jessie. I’ve seen many parents whose kids have been killed, whether accidentally or deliberately, and real grief doesn’t look like that.’
‘You can’t expect people’s reactions to conform to some textbook standard. Everyone’s different.’
Marilyn gave a weary half-nod, half-shake of his head. ‘I still believe that she murdered her daughter and Jodie Trigg, but I need help to prove it. I need to nail the killer this time, Jessie. I failed last time and I can’t fail again. Both those little girls need justice.’
‘They do both need justice, but I believe that you’re wrong about Carolynn, Marilyn. She’s not a killer.’
He ploughed on, ignoring her comment. ‘I need your help, Jessie. I need someone as intransigent as I am to work with.’
‘Work against, don’t you mean? Yin and yang.’ She lifted her shoulders. ‘I’m here, aren’t I, so talk away.’
Marilyn shook his head. ‘Officially, on an ongoing basis, as a consulting clinical psychologist. We have a budget for freelance advisors. You are freelance these days, aren’t you?’
Her involuntary exit from the army; another thing Callan had shared with him, without asking her. Bastard.
‘Freelance, yes, but not ready to prostitute myself to the highest bidder just yet.’
Marilyn smiled. ‘I can guarantee that Surrey and Sussex Major Crimes won’t be the highest bidder.’
Sitting back, Jessie folded her arms across her chest. ‘We’re at opposite ends of the spectrum on this case, Marilyn. You’re convinced of Carolynn’s guilt and you’re determined to prove it, and I’m convinced there is no way the woman I got to know over five hours of clinical psychology sessions murdered her own child.’
‘You’d add balance to my thinking.’
‘Either that, or we’ll end up wanting to kill each other.’
‘I’m willing to take that risk, if you are.’
Jessie chewed on her lip, didn’t answer. Was she willing? She liked Marilyn, rated him hugely, but she felt that, with regard to Carolynn Reynolds, and despite all the circumstantial evidence he’d laid out in front of her, he had lost objectivity. She wasn’t interested in being involved in a witch-hunt. But then he was right when he said that she could add balance. And he was also right when he said that the little girls deserved justice.
‘I can’t share anything that Carolynn told me in our sessions with you,’ she said finally. ‘I can’t renege on that patient confidentiality.’
‘I won’t ask you to.’
‘And I am not willing to be used just to back up your case. The case you’ve already made up your mind is correct. That Carolynn is guilty.’
‘I won’t ask you to do that either.’ He extended his hand across the table and after a moment, Jessie shook it. ‘I told you that you’d be willing to do anything for one of those pancakes!’ Pushing his chair back, he stood. ‘Come on, Dr Flynn, we have a house call to make.’
37
Roger opened his eyes to a quiet room and the sense that he was alone.
He stretched out, star-fishing across the bed, appreciating the opportunity to spread. Carolynn’s side was cold. Rolling on to his stomach, he pressed his face into her pillow. Also cold, and her scent barely there. Yawning, he rolled back and fumbled his watch from the bedside table. Nine a.m. – Christ, much later than he’d thought. Carolynn was
