She couldn’t move. Something was holding her down, putting pressure on her right shoulder. She was cold: very, very cold. She could hear an awful grinding sound. Light flashing. Movement too. A hand pressing on her left hip. A voice, close and yet far away. Words, muffled and unrecognizable, as if spoken through a thick wet blanket.
Talk to me, pet . . .
. . . talk to me . . .
Jo woke in a panic. The sight of Daniels keeping vigil by her bedside was a clear reminder that her problems hadn’t gone away. For several seconds, they just looked at one another, regretting the harsh words of their previous meeting.
‘I had a dream . . .’ Jo said. ‘You’d bugged my room. Should I be talking to you while I’m in here?’
‘Are all psychologists paranoid?’ Daniels grinned and made a meal of looking furtively over her shoulder towards the door. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not wearing a wire. I’d show you, only I might get rumbled.’
‘Spoilsport.’
An intense moment of regret . . .
Jo got serious. ‘Why are you here? Come to ask me some more questions?’
Daniels noticed that the bruising round Jo’s eyes had begun to disappear. The shape of her face was returning to normal and she’d regained a little colour and a familiar twinkle in her eyes. She wanted to tell her she was there because she cared, because she had regrets, because . . .
Fuck it! She’d never listen. What would be the point?
‘You know you’ll be formally interviewed?’ she said instead.
Jo swept a lock of damp hair off her sweaty face. ‘By you?’
‘No, not by me. I promise.’
As SIO, Daniels wondered just how she was going to keep that promise. How exactly could she justify dodging an interview with the prime suspect? She shoved the thought to the back of her mind.
‘Right now I’m here as a mate, Jo. Not a Senior Investigating Officer. If there’s anything you need to tell me, no matter what it is, now’s the time. If . . .’
She broke off, couldn’t get the words out. She’d asked a question she didn’t really want to know the answer to. It was something she’d learned not to do very early in her police career. And now Jo was staring at her, looking through her, almost, as if she was an alien.
‘Will you just listen to yourself!’ Jo was angry again, but also disappointed. ‘I hated him, you know I did. But not enough to kill him.’
‘Even after what the bastard did to you? I could’ve killed him myself.’
Jo said nothing.
‘You can see how it looks?’
‘D’you think I need reminding? Even Tom and James have their doubts. I can see it in their eyes, even though they’re trying to hide it. Please tell me they’re not suspects too.’
Daniels was desperate to throw her a crumb of comfort. But James had lied about his whereabouts and, well, it just wasn’t that simple. Gormley had recalled him for interview. ‘You know how it works, Jo. As soon as their alibis check out, you’ll be the first to know. Right now, I want to talk to you about the accident.’
‘Like I said, I don’t remember a thing.’
‘Your car came off a road heading away from the coast towards the A1, just north of Morpeth. Your receptionist said you’d been to Acklington Prison on Friday afternoon for an interview.’ Nothing was registering. ‘One of your lifers nearing his tariff date?’
Jo’s expression was blank.
Daniels fed her a little more information, hoping to prompt recall. ‘He has a parole review coming up and his behaviour was causing concern, apparently. The Governor was thinking of shipping him back to Dartmoor but wanted the benefit of your advice before making the arrangements.’
‘Which inmate?’
‘Woodgate?’
‘Oh . . .’
‘You do remember him?’
‘He’s not easy to forget. He’s not the most popular person on the planet. Look, I’m sorry, Kate, but it’s like a black hole. I really couldn’t say if I saw him or not. Didn’t they find my BlackBerry after the accident?’
‘I don’t recall seeing it in the report I read. I’ll check.’ Daniels’ spirits lifted. If she could help Jo to remember her last appointment at work – where she’d been, who with – perhaps they could work their way back to Thursday the fifth.
Some cognitive interviewing just might work.
Jo’s face paled as Daniels’ voice trailed off. It was as if the seriousness of her situation had suddenly hit home. She looked small and insignificant against the white sheets, like a frail old lady who didn’t understand where she was or how she’d got there.
‘I know you’re scared,’ Daniels whispered, ‘but I’m not going anywhere. We’re in this together. I promise.’