The dryness in her mouth woke Connie. She reached for the glass of water – it was warm from the night before, but anything would do. She lay back, resting her head on the pillow. A dull ache consumed her skull. Any sudden movement would make her dehydrated brain feel like it had been hit against a wall. Slow was the way forwards.
The man lying beside her grumbled and reached an arm across her middle. Scott – the man from The Farmer – had made a move on Connie not long after entering the pub. She wasn’t sure if it was his tentative approach, his unconfident humour, his eyes – a sharp blue that popped against his olive complexion – his full lips, or the way he sat in silence as Connie talked non-stop for over half an hour, that made her ask him home. Or maybe it was simply because she wanted someone else there, if only for one night.
Connie gently pushed his arm from her and checked her phone. She was going to be late getting into Totnes this morning – she hoped she’d make it to her office before her first client. Going out on a school night really wasn’t her best idea.
As she got in the shower, her head heavy and fuzzy, she wondered if Lindsay had already left for work. Or if she’d even come home last night. She couldn’t remember seeing her when she returned home with Scott – although, if she recalled correctly, they had gone straight upstairs.
She blasted her hair dry on the highest heat – which would undoubtedly make it frizzy for the rest of the day – gave Scott a gentle nudge, telling him he had to leave, then watched him dress sheepishly before escorting him down the stairs. At the door, he turned to kiss her.
‘You’re going to miss your train.’ Lindsay was leaning against the frame of the kitchen door, a bowl of cereal in one hand, spoon in the other.
Connie pulled away from Scott and mumbled a promise to call him, then ushered him out.
‘Yes. I likely will.’ Connie closed the front door and remained facing it, not Lindsay.
‘You want a lift into Totnes? I can afford to be half an hour late.’
‘Can you?’ Connie turned. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so, given how many hours you’ve been putting in lately – in fact, I can’t believe you’re still here.’ She swept past Lindsay into the kitchen. ‘Anyway, I need coffee before I go anywhere, so you go ahead. I’m sure the next train will get me there before my first client’s due.’ Connie refilled the kettle.
Lindsay sighed. ‘How long are you going to give me the cold shoulder for?’
‘I’m not giving you anything of the sort.’ Connie knew her denial sounded unconvincing.
‘Yep. You are. I know how this goes, Connie. I remember it well from how Tony ended up treating me. Distancing himself, abrupt communications. I get it. My work always comes first, I lose sight of other important things in my life. I really don’t want to alienate you, Connie.’
‘Then be around for me a bit more! I’m not asking for a lot. Just what you promised.’
‘I know. It is such bad timing this poor girl went missing the same week you began the work at the prison. But I am here for you. Granted, I’m not here physically very much at the moment, but it doesn’t mean you can’t tell me what’s going on.’
‘Lindsay. You’re barely here at all, and even when you are, you’re tired and going off to bed early, or bringing your work – and Mack – home with you.’ Connie cringed at the whine in her tone. Even though she knew she was coming across as self-centred, she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
‘Look,’ Lindsay said as she put her bowl into the dishwasher, ‘get ready and let me drive you to work, we can at least chat then. Don’t cut your nose off to spite your face just because you’re angry with me.’
Connie opened her mouth to argue, then stopped. Lindsay was right. If she declined the lift it would be a ridiculously pointless protest. And she’d come off worse. Plus, a lift would certainly be better than the train. ‘Fine. Give me ten minutes.’
‘The misper case is still ongoing then?’ Connie opened the conversation as soon as Lindsay drove away from the house. She had to pack as much into the twenty-minute journey as she could – best to start with something relating to Lindsay, so she didn’t come across as selfish and needy.
‘Yep. Every time we think we’re getting close, getting a positive sighting of Isabella, we follow it up and they turn out to be dead ends. So frustrating.’
‘Must be. You said before that you thought there was more to it – like, bad stuff?’
‘Bad enough, I think. Some interesting things were found on her computer; she was part of a gaming community, and it seemed to go beyond online interactions. Her father said she was spending more time out of the house, becoming very secretive. We’re looking into whether the two are linked.’
‘God, do you think she’s been murdered? Some weird game gone wrong?’
‘It’s a thought. Sadly, because we’ve found no proof of life … well …’ Lindsay’s sentence trailed, then she changed the subject. ‘Anyway, let’s concentrate on you for a moment. Clearly, you’re pissed off with me. Bringing some random bloke home. I know I’ve not been the support I said I would be and I’m really sorry. But talk now, maybe it will help.’
‘He isn’t some random bloke. His name is Scott.’ Connie shot Lindsay her best hoity look. ‘And it’s not that I’m pissed off with you, just that I’ve had some concerns of my own that I’d have liked to discuss with you. It’s kind of complicated.’
‘Go on,’ Lindsay said, her eyebrows raised.
‘It’s about a mother and son, whose lives were ruined by what he did.’
‘Oh, really? What happened, and how are you involved?’
‘Long story short, my new client is the mother of a boy who, at eighteen, stabbed and killed another boy. The details were never really clear in terms of motive, but there was enough evidence to convict him. And I’m now seeing the son at HMP Baymead – he’s one of the assessments that Jen brought me in to do.’
‘Shit!’ Lindsay lengthened the word as she spoke it.
‘I know. Shit, indeed.’
‘When was this?’
‘He was convicted four years ago, I’m assuming you won’t know about it – you weren’t Devon and Cornwall back then. Anyway, point is, initially he never spoke a word, hadn’t done for years, but then decided he would speak to me. Which is my fault …’ Connie lowered her gaze, not wanting Lindsay to see the guilt in her eyes. But Lindsay knew her too well.
‘Ahh, Connie. What did you do?’
‘I thought I could use the fact I was seeing his mother to coax him into talking.’
‘So, you coerced and manipulated a prisoner?’ Lindsay took her eyes off the road, her head turning sharply to face Connie.
‘Shit.’ Connie put her head in her hands. ‘When you put it like that …’
‘Wow, that’s a turn-up for the books. Isn’t it meant to be the other way around?’
‘I’m not sure why I did it. It got him talking, though.’ Connie shrugged. ‘But now I have to continue seeing him until I can get the full assessment done.’
‘Hmmm. Didn’t think those consequences through, did you?’
‘No. And now I’m getting into deep shit as I need to keep the fact I’m seeing him from his mother, but I accidentally mentioned to her something he told me, thinking it was what she’d told me.’
‘That’s quite a pickle you’ve got yourself in.’
‘Thanks for the “in a nutshell” summary.’ Connie sighed. On the one hand she felt relieved to be finally talking about it, but on the other, saying it out loud confirmed her actions as imprudent.
‘How many more sessions with each?’
‘Hopefully only one with him, but more with her. She asked for an extra one on Monday, too, to help her cope with the anniversary of Kyle’s conviction. So, I’ll be seeing him in the morning and her in the afternoon.’
Lindsay was at the roundabout at The Seven Stars, it was only a minute or so before Connie would have to jump out.
‘Christ. Okay, well, I’d concentrate on the anniversary with her and let her do as much of the talking as poss. Only focus on what she’s telling you in that session, don’t bring anything up from previous ones. You can’t say something you shouldn’t then.’
‘But what if he’s told her he’s seeing me too? And it comes out about me informing him that his mum has been talking to me?’
‘Then I think you’re going to have to start being a lot more careful, Connie. It’s not just a case of you making things awkward if they find out, you’re putting yourself in a compromising position – and not a safe one. Remember your track record …’
Connie opened her mouth to say something, but thought better of it. There wasn’t much she could say to that. She thanked Lindsay for the lift and, her mind brimming with concern, got out of the car. At least she had a few days before seeing them both to try to get her head straight.