EMILY LOGGED ON to her computer, opened up her inbox and saw the message immediately. For a long while she sat there staring at the screen, her eyes fixed to the subject line: INMATE: X40965 WALTER FEARON. She hesitated, her right forefinger hovering above the mouse. The next few seconds could shape her future in ways she didn’t care to imagine right now. This was a chance, her only chance of keeping Fearon behind bars a while longer.
All was lost if the answer was no.
Taking a deep breath in, she left clicked on the message, skim-read the text, then read it again. It was quite a long and considered reply, but only the first four words registered: The Home Secretary regrets . . .
A noise made her look up.
The door opened and Jo walked in.
Emily tried to act normal but fell woefully short of that.
Jo walked round the desk and got down on her honkers putting them on the same level. ‘What’s up, Em? Can I help?’
Emily couldn’t speak.
‘Martin told me you’d fallen out. Is that it?’
Emily shook her head, pointing at her computer screen.
Jo read the email, the light in her eyes dying as they moved over the text. She gave Emily a hug and a little sympathy. Her quest to keep Fearon in prison had failed miserably, her attempt to involve the Home Office a wasted effort. They both knew that.
‘Did Martin tell you why we had a fight?’ Emily asked.
Jo nodded. ‘And that’s your own business. You have nothing to reproach yourself for and you certainly don’t owe him, or anyone, an explanation. He’ll come round in time. He’s angry now, but he’ll see sense when he gets his head round it. Martin won’t stay mad for long. He’s got a big heart . . . almost as big as his ego.’
Emily managed a smile, appreciating Jo’s attempt at cheerfulness.
Taking a compact mirror and a tissue from her desk drawer, she wiped her eyes. They were all red and puffy. In her race to follow Stamp to work she’d showered quickly and left the house devoid of any make-up, her damp hair scruffed back and clipped in an untidy mess at the nape of her neck.
‘Martin is the least of my problems,’ she said.
‘What d’you mean?’
‘Fearon gets out tomorrow.’ Emily lowered the mirror. She was welling up again. ‘I went to see him just now, tried to talk to him. He laughed at me. He’s a serial sex offender whose walls are covered in pornography and he laughed at me! Who makes the damn rules, Jo? Them or us? I spoke to Harrison about it and he laughed at me too. As good as.’
‘Let me guess: happy inmates keeps the lid on the prison, right?’
The answer was in the question.
‘How the hell do they expect us to reduce offending behaviour if they allow the cons to drool over filth like that?’ Emily said. ‘It’s a bloody nonsense! I’m going to speak to the Governor about it later.’
‘Don’t waste your energy. You don’t need another crusade right now—’
‘Crusade? Is that what you think I’m on? For Christ’s sake, Jo! What’s wrong with you? Why won’t anyone listen to me?’
Jo apologized.
Emily just glared at her, an invisible barrier between them. Clearly, Jo had something to add but was searching for the right words. Whatever it was, Emily had the distinct impression she wasn’t going to like it.
‘Have you heard from Kate?’ Jo asked.
‘No, why?’
‘No reason.’
‘Then why ask? Have you heard something?’
‘No—’
‘You’re lying, I can tell.’
‘You need to talk to her, Em. Tell her how you’re feeling.’
‘Yeah, right! Like she has time to listen. At least Lowther goes through the motions occasionally.’ Emily stopped talking as a dreadful thought set her heart pounding. Panic set in and her mouth went dry. ‘You’re trying to tell me she found Rachel—’
‘No, I’m not!’ Jo pulled up a chair and sat down. ‘Emily, you need to calm down and get some rest. I think you should go home and make an appointment with your doctor.’
‘I don’t need a doctor. I need Rach!’ Emily was angry now and it showed. ‘You didn’t just come to hold my hand, did you? You came because Kate paid Kent a visit, demanding his DNA. Well I can tell you now she’s on a hiding to nothing. Did you know I was the one put the idea into her head?’
Jo nodded.
‘I tried to take it back, to explain to her that it was all a mistake, but she ran with it anyway. Now it’s all over the prison. She’s wrong, Jo. It’s Fearon, not Kent, needs watching.’
‘No, Emily! You’re the one who’s wrong. It’s illogical to think he’s behind Rachel’s disappearance. You know Kate almost as well as I do. You couldn’t set her on a course of action she didn’t want to take if you tried. If she’s looking at Kent, there’ll be a good reason for it.’
Emily just looked at her.
What on earth did that mean?