Judy dumped three sugars into her coffee, stirred it slowly.
‘Honestly, I think Dorcus was hoping it would all go away if she just kept her head down and didn’t whip up any trouble. That’s how she handled being locked up. Went into her cocoon.’ She blew on her coffee and took a small sip. ‘I explained to her that a complaint was her best chance of being given permission to stay. Long Fleet are nothing if not risk averse. They’d have done it just to keep her quiet.’
‘But they deported her instead?’
‘Because that’s the most effective way to silence someone, isn’t it?’ Judy said. ‘Send them off thousands of miles away.’ She crossed her legs and cupped her hands around her knee. ‘Dorcus was terrified of being sent back with a baby on the way. She’s a very religious young woman from a very traditional family. She knew they wouldn’t forgive her for getting pregnant, no matter how it happened.’
‘Have you spoken to her since she was deported?’ Ferreira asked.
‘Yes, a few times. I try to keep in touch with the women we lose. I don’t want them to think they’ve been forgotten.’
‘Did she have the baby?’
‘Of course she did,’ Judy said sadly. ‘I advised her to terminate the pregnancy while she was in Long Fleet. Given her circumstances it seemed the wisest course of action. But she wouldn’t hear of it.’ She smiled slightly. ‘She had a beautiful little boy.’
Judy’s hand strayed to her pocket but stayed outside it.
‘Do you have a photo?’ Ferreira asked. ‘I’d love to see it.’
Judy stared at her for a few seconds, as if trying to decide if this was genuine interest or some sneaky police trick.
Eventually she took her mobile out and scanned through the photos, then held the phone out to Ferreira, making it clear she wouldn’t let her take it.
The baby was chubby and cute, swaddled tightly in a brightly patterned blanket. He was smiling although one of his eyes was swollen and gummed shut.
‘Nasty case of conjunctivitis, bless him,’ Ferreira said.
‘Oh, that’s cleared up now,’ Judy told her, putting the phone away. ‘She had a visit from a doctor friend of hers, he took some medication over. She was having a hell of a time getting something for it over there.’
‘A doctor from your charity?’
‘No,’ Judy said slowly, seeming uncomfortable. ‘Actually, he worked at Long Fleet.’
Judy couldn’t look at her now and Ferreira was angry with herself for letting the woman dictate the terms of their conversation. She should have hauled her up to an interview room, made her do this on the record.
‘Which doctor?’ she asked sharply.
‘Joshua Ainsworth.’
Ferreira took a deep breath, feeling the anger climbing up her spine one vertebra at a time, building and burning as it reached her skull.
‘You knew he’d been murdered and you said nothing,’ she snapped. ‘Didn’t it occur to you that this might have been important information?’
‘How could it be?’ Judy said weakly. ‘Dorcus is in Kampala. He was killed at home. I assumed it was a break-in.’
Ferreira bit down on the reply she wanted to give – to remind this woman that she wasn’t a police officer, that she knew nothing about the case, was in no position to assume anything. Instead she reached deep inside herself and found a small and neglected reservoir of near calm.
‘Was Dorcus happy to see Ainsworth?’
‘He isn’t the man who got her pregnant,’ Judy said, in a withering tone she didn’t deserve to be throwing around. ‘He was always very kind to Dorcus. She trusted him. She saw him as a friend. I mean, if they weren’t friends why else would he have gone over to visit her?’
Ferreira knew why.
‘I’m going to need to speak to Dorcus,’ she said.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
Zigic didn’t like it. Some woman who wouldn’t give her real name, wouldn’t go any further into the station than the reception area. Someone who obviously had an axe to grind with Long Fleet. That wasn’t the kind of informer you wanted to build a case on.
‘I don’t know about this,’ he said. ‘It sounds like “Judy” has a vested interest in stirring up bad press for Long Fleet and she’s seen this case as an opportunity to do it.’
Ferreira rolled her eyes at him. ‘You think she picked this story out of her arse?’
He wrinkled his nose.
‘Look, we went through Ruby Garrick because we hoped one of her group might be able to put us onto a contact for Dorcus and she’s done that.’ Ferreira opened a bottle of juice but didn’t drink it. ‘What kind of person did you think we’d end up talking to? They’re protestors. None of them were going to be big fans of the police. Shit, if you didn’t want to dirty your hands dealing with unsavoury elements, then maybe this wasn’t a good job choice.’
He gave her a warning look but she met it.
The last couple of days had eroded whatever slim moral high ground he’d carved out for himself over the length of their working relationship. Getting dragged into an off-book investigation with Adams had seen to that. Hiding it from Mel had only made it worse.
Dimly, he realised that was why he was being so picky about Ferreira’s new contact. He was trying to claw back some semblance of moral certainty. For himself, not for anyone else. He wanted to be the kind of copper who did things the right way again.
‘She knew Josh had been in Kampala visiting Dorcus, yeah?’ Ferreira said, visibly restraining herself. ‘We never made that public. So she’s obviously got some insider knowledge.’
‘We didn’t go public but other people knew about it.’
‘If she manages to get Dorcus to talk to us, then we’ll know, won’t we?’ She took a drink of orange juice and put the bottle back down on the desk, next to the remains of a breakfast bagel. ‘But this is all starting
