‘Victims, plural.’ Paula shrugged. ‘We don’t know yet.’
‘It would be an extraordinary coincidence if not. And—’ Carol gave a wry grin as she and Paula chorused, ‘We don’t like coincidence.’
‘It’s a strange one,’ Paula said. ‘And here comes heaven,’ she added as Donatella arrived with a steaming bowl of pasta. The aroma made Paula’s mouth fill with saliva.
The three women took it in turn to exclaim and serve themselves. Carol spooned grated pecorino over her food and said, almost casually, ‘You must miss Tony at a time like this.’
‘Not just at a time like this. I’m due to see him soon, I’ll see if he has any interesting insights to point us in the right direction.’ Everyone had their eyes on their plates in a rare moment when discretion trumped curiosity.
Eating consumed them for a few minutes, then Carol said, ‘Bronwen Scott turned up at my place the other day.’
Paula raised her eyebrows, a forkful of pasta halfway to her mouth. ‘What on earth did she want?’
‘She’s part of an informal group of professionals running their own small-scale version of the Innocence Project. Working on miscarriages of justice. They call themselves After Proven Guilty. As in—’
‘Yeah, I get it,’ Paula chipped in with a wry smile. ‘Innocent until proven guilty,’ she added for Elinor’s benefit.
‘In one.’ Carol sipped her water. ‘She wants me on board.’
‘That’s a no-brainer,’ Elinor said. ‘That’s right up your street, isn’t it?’
Carol gave a one-shoulder shrug. ‘I don’t know. I always said you’re only as good as your team. I’ve no idea whether I can cut it as a solo player.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that. Has she dangled something in front of you?’
‘Oh yes.’ And between mouthfuls, she told them about Saul Neilson and Lyle Tate.
‘No body and circumstantial,’ Paula said. ‘Getting a conviction must have been tricky.’
Elinor put down her fork. ‘I guess that makes overturning it so much harder.’
Carol gave her a considering look. ‘Is that the sound of a gauntlet being slapped down?’
Paula groaned. ‘What have you done, Doc? Carol Jordan and Bronwen Scott? The last time you two worked together you nearly destroyed Bradfield Metropolitan Police.’
Carol grinned. ‘Better run for the hills, Paula.’
*
Half a bottle of Primitivo and a complimentary grappa meant leaving the car outside the restaurant. Carol offered to drive them home but their polite excuses tumbled over each other – ‘It’s out of your way,’ ‘It’s no distance,’ ‘I need the fresh air.’ And so Elinor and Paula walked companionably back through deserted streets, still holding hands after all those years, swapping the inconsequential conversational exchanges of two people who know what the other is thinking and feeling about most things.
‘It’s good to see Carol doing what she’s best at,’ Elinor said.
‘I suppose. I was hoping she’d maybe find something else to be good at. I don’t like to think of her hankering after the life she can’t have any more.’
‘She’s lost so much, Paula. She needs something to anchor her to her old self while she works out what her new one is. She’s clearly trying to sort herself out so she can find a way back to Tony. Before you arrived, she admitted she’s seeing a therapist who specialises in treating PTSD.’
Paula squeezed Elinor’s hand. ‘That’s good news. Let’s hope it helps.’
‘I thought she seemed a bit more relaxed this evening. And she’s not drinking.’
‘Unlike me.’ Paula gave a wry laugh. ‘A day like today, a decent glass of wine feels like a lifeline to normality. I was looking at those crime scene pics and thinking if Torin hadn’t pitched up with us, he could have ended up like one of those kids. Stuck in some abusive institution or living on the streets. Doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘I know.’ Elinor sighed. ‘I see them all the time in A&E. Young kids, wrecked from drugs and street life. The older ones who’re pretty much derelict from drink and homelessness. Some of them come in just for a place to sit and be warm in the middle of the night. Some of them are having mental health episodes. And some of them are too far gone for us to be of any use. Did you know that homeless people have a life expectancy that’s thirty years less than the rest of us? If we’d been homeless for the last ten years, Paula, we’d be at death’s door.’
Before Paula could reply, her ringtone cut through the background city hum. She let go Elinor’s hand to dig it out of her pocket. Glancing at the screen, she said, ‘Sorry, I’ve got to . . . ’
Elinor walked on a few steps, and as Paula raised the phone to her ear, she felt an unexpected jolt of love as she took in her partner, long black hair gleaming under the street light, the familiar planes and angles of her lovely face as striking as when she’d first seen them. She turned away as Karim’s voice spoke. ‘Boss? I just got your message.’
‘Where are you? What happened with the priest? Why haven’t you been in touch? Or filed a report?’ She rattled the questions at him without giving him a chance to reply.
‘I came home, boss. It was late, there was nothing to say.’
‘What? You didn’t see the priest?’
‘Yeah, I saw him. But he had nothing useful to say. He knew about the graves but as far as he was concerned, the deaths were all natural and he didn’t take any part in the actual burials. He denied all knowledge of any abuse by the nuns. Boss, he totally had nothing helpful to say.’
‘It doesn’t matter, Karim. You should have filed your report. What did he say when you asked him about the second group of remains?’ A moment’s silence. Paula felt the tension released by the wine reassert itself in her neck. ‘Karim? What did he say?’
‘I didn’t get the chance to ask him.’ He sounded sheepish.
‘What do you mean, you didn’t get the chance? You were interviewing him, Karim.’
‘He chucked me
