‘Mags, is everything okay?’
She forced her gaze from the tendrils of steam back to Sally’s concerned face on the other side of the table.
‘Of course it is. There’s just some freak out there who likes sending creepy letters.’ She rubbed her eyes and yawned. ‘I’m tired. I didn’t sleep very well.’
‘I know.’ Sally gave her a rueful smile. ‘You must have kicked me at least ten times last night.’
‘Sorry. I couldn’t stop thinking about the letter and who could have sent it.’
‘I must admit I didn’t sleep too well either, worrying about everything. Maybe it’ll help to talk about it. Let’s look at what we have.’ Sally took a sip of coffee. ‘The letter. It’s not much, but it’s a start. This creep says you ruined his life years ago. What sort of things did you work on?’
‘Christ, it could be anything…’ Maggie thought for a while. ‘I joined The Southern Recorder in my twenties and decided I wanted to become an investigative reporter eventually. But it wasn’t easy getting my name out there, especially working for a local paper. There were a few interesting cases if I remember; robberies, drugs, teenage gangs… One of the earlier cases was my first foray into the dark underworld the other side of the water.’
‘France?’ Sally asked, puzzled.
‘No, Gosport.’ Maggie smirked.
‘Oh, you.’ Sally gave her a shove. ‘Anything else?’
‘Not off the top of my head. We need to go back to my place, I’ve still got the files where I used to put all my notes, clippings, and research from my investigations. We might find something there that’ll help us.’
‘Good. We’ll finish breakfast, then get going.’ Sally picked up her handbag off the table and put the letter inside. ‘We’ll also pop into the station and drop this off – get it checked over. I know I said I’d take it Monday, but if it’s already there, Steve in the lab can start on it first thing. You never know, we might strike lucky. You’ll also get to meet the charismatic Detective Sergeant John Dyer.’ She winked.
‘Your new boss you were talking about?’
‘Yeah. He loves following rules… but he’ll soon lose that habit. He’ll have to, working with us.’ She gestured towards Maggie’s cup. ‘Another coffee before we go?’
Sally strode through the police station, saying hello as she passed. Maggie followed closely behind her, cringing with embarrassment. No matter how many police stations she went in, she always felt uncomfortable, as if she’d be accused of committing some horrific crime at any moment. This was even worse, knowing they were there to ask a favour of Sally’s colleagues.
‘Morning, Sally. Thought it was your day off.’ A woman Maggie recognised stood up and gave Sally a hug. ‘Oh, hi, Maggie. It’s been a long time.’
‘You remember Liz, don’t you, Mags?’ Sally gave her an apologetic smile.
‘Oh, yes, of course.’ Maggie remembered her only too well.
‘That day we had to take Richard to identify Thomas’s body and then accompany him to break the news to you and your sister was the worst day of my life,’ Liz said, clasping her hands together. ‘It’s a terrible part of the job.’
‘I can imagine,’ Maggie replied. ‘Especially as you never found my nephew’s killer.’ There was an awkward silence.
Liz coughed. ‘The case was handed over to our criminal investigation department. Our job was to support you through those awful months. The team did their best to find the abductor, with the resources they had…’ Her voice trailed off.
Maggie decided to take pity on her. ‘I’m sure they did. He was very clever at staying under the radar, it would have been almost impossible to find him.’ She put a slight emphasis on ‘almost’.
‘Is DS Dyer in?’ Sally asked, her voice strained.
Liz looked relieved at the interruption. ‘Yes, in his office. Is it anything I can help with?’
‘Not really. We’ll catch up on Monday, okay?’
Liz nodded. ‘Nice to see you again, Maggie.’
‘Thanks. You too.’ Maggie grimaced as they walked away. It had been as painful as having a tooth extracted without any anaesthetic; she just hoped that when they left she wouldn’t have to go through it all again.
‘Sorry about that. Liz means well.’
‘I know. It’s just–’
‘Oh, great.’ Sally took Maggie’s hand and squeezed it. ‘One more to get through, then we’ll speak to the boss. Sorry,’ she whispered.
‘Can’t keep away from us, eh, Sal? Not even on your day off.’ A thin, balding man in chinos and a crumpled pale-blue shirt patted Sally on the shoulder, almost knocking her off her feet. He squinted at Maggie. ‘Hey, aren’t you that journalist who found the girls?’
‘Maggie, Eric. He was on the team investigating Charlotte and Jane’s disappearance. Eric, we’re here to see DS Dyer…’
‘I knew it was you. I remember when Sally asked me for all that info on the case about the caretaker. What was his name again?’
‘Joe,’ Maggie replied coldly.
‘That’s the one. He was a bit of an oddball, couldn’t answer our questions. We had to let him go in the end, it was pointless. I guess you got lucky.’
‘No, I had the patience to listen to him without putting him under stress, and found out he could memorise car licence plates.’ Maggie crossed her arms and glared at Eric. ‘I got lucky because the psychopath who abducted the two girls was either too stupid or too arrogant and registered the car with his real name and the address he was living at. Then I got even luckier when an article I wrote trended on Twitter.’
Sally tried to pull Maggie away. ‘We really need to see the DS…’ she began.
Eric held his hands up in mock surrender. ‘I bow to your superior intellect, Miss Turner. We were undermanned, working all hours, and didn’t have the time to mollycoddle our suspects. Unfortunately, mistakes were made.’
‘I was glad to help out,’ Maggie said quietly, her blood boiling. For Sally’s sake she’d keep her mouth shut, but she was itching to tell Eric exactly what she thought of him. She turned to Sally. ‘Shall we go?’
‘I think it’s better. See you later, Eric.’
‘I hope to bump into you again, Maggie, maybe you can give me a few pointers on how to interrogate people,’ he called after them as they headed towards the office at the far end of the room.
‘Ignore him,’ Sally said as she knocked on the door. Maggie clenched her fists but managed to keep quiet.
Detective Sergeant John Dyer was an imposing man. Over six feet tall, in his mid to late forties, his elegant suit hiding any sign of a paunch, he stood and reached over to shake Maggie’s hand as Sally introduced her. His dark, slightly greying hair was perfectly combed, and his ice-blue eyes fixed her with a confident stare. But Maggie noticed the wary look behind the confidence, the small tic at the corner of his mouth that twitched every now and then, and there was something more… a gut feeling about him, and she never ignored her gut feelings.