Shell contacted the hospital to check on Vicki. The nurse who answered the phone sounded sympathetic, but told Shell that she could only share information with family members. She must have heard the distress in Shell’s voice, because she whispered into the phone that, if Shell were to turn up at the hospital, she’d find her friend in a stable condition. Shell breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the nurse for her understanding.
Shell had made a copy of Vicki’s spare key a while back; Vicki was always prone to losing things when she was under the influence, so it had seemed like a good idea. Given that the assault on her friend happened a few days ago, Shell was fairly certain that the police would have cleared out by now and she didn’t want her friend coming home to a bomb sight.
She packed her car with cleaning supplies and headed over to the estate. Letting herself into Vicki’s flat she surveyed the mess and shook her head. She couldn’t tell whether the chaos had been caused by the police, or by whoever had trashed the place. Fingerprint dust covered various points in the room and clothes were strewn all over the floor. Starting with the kitchen, Shell began what was likely to be an all-day task.
Hours later, Shell found herself in Vicki’s bedroom. The room had barely been touched, because the majority of the crime had taken place in the living room and kitchen. Shell wanted the whole place to feel cosy, so Vicki didn’t struggle coming back … and she’d be back. Shell wasn’t ready to accept the possibility that her friend might not wake up. That would be too much to bear. Shell gripped the mop tightly and tried to control her anger.
Shell cleaned faster, removing the bedsheets and searching Vicki’s closet for some fresh ones. Finding some in a plastic bag at the back of the closet, Shell started to make the bed. Her hand touched something on the left side of the double bed. A notebook. Shell debated whether to look inside and was surprised that the police hadn’t found it. Maybe they looked inside and found nothing of interest.
Curiosity soon got the better of her. The inside pages looked like they’d been written by a child. Hearts adorned various pages and VICKI + M was littered about the surface. Shell scanned the notebook until she got to the last few weeks before Vicki’s assault. Open-mouthed, she read as Vicki described feelings of desperation. ‘M’ shoving her, shouting at her, and at one point punching her so hard in the arm it left a bruise.
Reading on she noticed that Vicki was making excuses for M’s behaviour. and alarm bells began to ring. Shell pocketed the notebook. She needed to prove who ‘M’ was, before taking this to the police. And Shell knew exactly who might be able to give her the information she needed.