It was done.
Our digi-tech staff, with the cooperation of the relevant health services, had altered my medical notes across the relevant patient information systems.
Naomi, with reluctance, had agreed to find a way to casually mention that I had had amnio further back in my pregnancy. I hadn’t told her straight out that it was Miriam that we suspected, but rather that it was someone within the profession, so I’d asked her to drop the hint as widely as she could. I’d explained that she was one of a number of trusted people we were employing to help in the case. I felt bad about the lying, but needs must. I seemed to be doing a bit too much of it lately.
The trap was set, and now all we had to do was wait.
Actually, that was not all we had to do. This was just one facet of the ongoing investigation, and one that could be barking completely up the wrong tree, but in my heart, I knew we were on the right track. The rest of the team were following up on other leads, no matter how tenuous – interviewing people, still sifting through hours of security video footage, and of course dealing with the ever-constant pressure to solve this case being applied by the hierarchy, the media and the community. Half the front page of the Otago Daily Times this morning was dedicated to decrying the efforts of the police in solving this case: ‘Police at a Loss.’ It didn’t help matters. We all wanted justice for Aleisha Newman and her family. Contrary to the picture the media was painting, no one was sitting around twiddling their thumbs, except perhaps me.
Being somewhat idle wasn’t doing me any favours. My stomach was still churning at the thought of Paul being so upset with me. He’d made an excuse to leave the station, and I hadn’t seen or heard from him since. It had been a given that he wouldn’t be happy about it when I pitched the idea of me as bait, but I hadn’t expected the depth of his displeasure. We were about to embark into this huge, scary new territory of parenthood together, and I had gone ahead and managed to erode his trust in me. Sure, my motivations were noble, and I felt so personally invested in this case, but when I had been thinking through all of the ramifications of pulling this stunt, I had missed what was perhaps the most obvious. I only hoped to God that I hadn’t done too much damage.
Maggie had always accused me of being a commitment-phobe, and that I was still holding something of myself back in the relationship. And she’d been right. But witnessing the hurt in Paul’s eyes, and realising that I could have inadvertently fucked up our relationship, made me realise how badly I needed us to work. How badly I wanted us to work.
The dread of going home tonight was hanging over my head like a gravid cloud. I knew I was going to have to do some serious damage control, and it was all on me.