I Never Lie Page 16

  ‘It’s shocking the way they’re dealing with it.’ Audrey finds herself agreeing with Jack. ‘They should be suspending the dating app for a start. Incidentally, I tried to get an interview with the site yesterday, but they won’t talk to us.’

  My phone is buzzing. It’s Nigel. I resign myself to answering.

  ‘Hi, Alex, how are you? I just heard the news. Terrible. Really terrible. Are you okay?’

  ‘Hey. Thanks for calling. Yes, we just got to London Fields. It’s not great.’

  ‘So that’s where they found her?’

  ‘Yes.’

  It might be time I asked Nigel his whereabouts on the days of the murders.

  ‘Good God. The police really need to get their shit together. That’s four women now.’

  Although he doesn’t sound like a serial killer, but what does one sound like anyway?

  ‘They do.’ I walk away from Jack and Audrey, who are chatting passionately with each other. ‘I’m really sorry I didn’t get back to you, but work has been crazy.’

  ‘I bet. It’s totally understandable. You must be exhausted, you poor thing.’

  ‘I am.’

  The body bag is being moved from the tent. I take a swig from my water bottle.

  ‘Listen, I’m around all week, so just give me a call when you’re free, if you like.’

  ‘Okay. Hey, can I ask you something?’

  ‘Anything you like.’

  ‘Are you dating other women?’

  There’s a pause in the conversation.

  ‘I’m not fussed if you are. I’d just like to know where I stand.’

  ‘Interesting. I got the impression that you didn’t want anything serious, so forgive me if I ask why you want to know.’

  ‘I just wondered, that’s all.’

  ‘You’re a beautiful woman, Alex, and I’d like to see you again. Does that make things clearer?’

  I blush at the comment, which is stupid considering I’m not planning on sleeping with him again. I’m really not sure how to play this now.

  ‘I genuinely do want to see you again, Alex.’

  ‘Okay. Well, I will try to find some time, I promise. I’m not very good at this, as you might have noticed.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I like you and I think we had a good time. I’ll wait for your call, then, shall I?’

  ‘Yes. That sounds like the best plan.’

  We say goodbye and hang up. I take small relief in the fact that the police haven’t questioned him yet. I wonder why not, though. Perhaps they have alternative evidence. I’m so tired today. I check Greg’s Facebook page to see if there are any clues to his movements, but I’m still blocked, even after the Milk Tray. Anyway, it’s time to get cabled up and ready to report. As I make my way back to Audrey and Jack, my phone buzzes again. It’s Mrs Wilcox this time. I take the call.

  ‘Alex. I should never have done that interview. I want you to remove it from the website.’ Her voice is cold and clear.

  ‘Okay, but can I ask why?’

  ‘I want it removed from the website and I want that to happen today. I trust you’ll sort it.’ She hangs up.

  Audrey sees the look on my face.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘That was Mrs Wilcox. She wants us to pull the interview.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know. She wouldn’t say. Only that she wants it taken down from the website.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Can she do that after it’s been published?’ Jack pipes up.

  ‘Why don’t you call her back and try to reason with her?’ Audrey says.

  ‘Honestly, Audrey, I’m not feeling great. Do you want to do it? I’m happy to hand the baton to my ambitious young producer in this instance.’

  ‘Really? Are you sure? But do you think she’ll talk to me? I mean, her point of contact has been you.’

  ‘I think you’re quite persuasive when you want to be, probably more so than me, the mood I’m in.’

  ‘Okay. Send me her number. Thanks, Alex. You can trust me. I’ll do my best.’

  ‘I know you will. If she’s adamant, can you also get on the phone to Philippa and explain what happened.’

  ‘Of course.’

  At least I don’t have to have that conversation.

  Jack sighs. ‘Let’s get you cabled up, Alex.’

  The park is buzzing with activity, and a small crowd has gathered close by. Since the news got out that a fourth woman has been found dead, people have come to see what’s going on.

  Jack has his hand held high and is counting down on his fingers. I can hear the presenter on the line. And then suddenly we’re live on air.

  ‘And in breaking news, police are investigating a suspicious death after a body was found in an east London park this morning. This is the second body discovered in the space of a week, and the fourth in two months, sparking fears that there could be a serial killer on the prowl in east London. For more on this story, we cross live to Alex South, our crime reporter, who is at the scene.’

  ‘Thank you, Jane. That’s right, police are now investigating the second suspicious death in east London this week. A woman’s body was found by a runner this morning in London Fields, just a few metres from where I’m standing, and not far from where Alice Fessy was found last week. It is believed the woman died around midnight last night and in similar circumstances to those of Miss Fessy, as well as Maggie Horrocks and Jade Soron. There are no more details at this stage. As you can imagine, police are still searching the area for any clues that might lead them to who brought this woman out here late at night to kill her .’

  ‘This is the fourth suspicious death in a month. How are people feeling over there today?’

  ‘People here are on edge. The three previous victims were all using online dating sites, which is one theory as to how they may have met their killer. It’s extremely worrying, because millions of men and women in the UK use dating apps, many of them in London. We have one of the highest rates of Internet dating in Europe and the industry is worth billions. So yes, people are scared. The dating site under scrutiny is the popular app COMEout, which locates a potential match by using your phone’s GPS. Police have warned women to be very cautious of using the site at this time. We asked COMEout what they thought of the situation, but they have declined to comment.’

  ‘Alex South, thank you.’

  The bulletin moves on to the next item.

  ‘That’s a wrap.’ Jack turns the camera off.

  ‘Brilliant!’ Audrey looks pleased with herself. ‘You’re so good at this, Alex.’

  ‘Thanks. We should package for the evening bulletin. Jack, can you shoot some images of the crime scene, and the two of you get a few sound bites from people. Then we’ll do a piece to camera.’

  ‘Sounds like a good plan.’ Audrey has the mic in her hand.

  ‘Okay. I’m just going to sit down for a minute.’

  ‘I’ve got it covered, Alex, don’t worry.’

  I walk away from the scene to find a quieter spot. I’m truly exhausted; all I want to do is sit on a bench away from everyone. At least my shakes and sweats are being kept at bay by the vodka disguised as water in my bag. My phone buzzes; it’s a message from my fertility app telling me I’m now out of my fertile window and it’s countdown to pregnancy. I rub my tummy, wondering if it’s my lucky month, not that I could cope with raising a child at the moment. Everything seems to be crashing down on me.

  I launch my meditation app and do a few deep-breathing exercises to calm me down. Just as I find some solace, Laura MacColl walks towards me lighting a cigarette. She’s also escaping the circus for a minute, but in a cosy down jacket, unlike me. It is cold out here today, but somehow the chill is keeping my head straight.

  ‘Hey, Alex. How you doing? You look like you could do with one of these.’ She’s waving her cigarette at me.

  ‘I’m okay, thanks. I didn’t know you smoked?’

  ‘I keep it quiet, you know.’
She smiles warmly. ‘It’s a bit grim, this, isn’t it?’

  ‘Another woman dead, yes it is.’

  ‘Just heard about the key. Not that it means anything without an address.’

  She’s sitting next to me now as if we are mates.

  ‘So, did you know Sarah Wilcox personally?’

  The question throws me.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I went to that yoga place under the arches yesterday and the instructor – what’s his name, Jimmy? – he said you used to go there and so did she.’

  ‘A lot of people go there.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so, but you’re both from Manchester, right? Do you think you’re potentially at risk?’

  ‘From what?’

  She exhales a plume of smoke. ‘Well, you live around here.’

  ‘So do thousands of other women.’

  ‘I guess so. I didn’t mean to offend you, Alex.’

  ‘No offence taken.’

  I can feel myself getting annoyed with her, and given the fact that I’m trying to detox on the job, I think it’s best to leave her to it. I know myself, and I don’t want to get into an unnecessary argument.

  ‘I’ve really got to get back to my crew, Laura, sorry.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’

  As I walk away, Laura’s question swirls around in my head. Did I know Sarah Wilcox personally because I went to the same yoga place? Maybe that’s why DI Brook has suddenly taken an interest in me. Maybe he thinks I know something. I only wish I did.

  39

  September 2017

  Dear Diary,

  I feel like I’m about to burst out screaming at the next person who tells me time will heal me. I wish I’d never trusted Alex with my secrets. I don’t know why I ever became her friend. I’m angry with myself for holding her in such high esteem, giving her way too much credit. How could I have been so stupid? She thinks she’s clever, with her big words and her fancy job, but she lied to me. She told me she wanted me to get better, but she was only ever interested in herself. She doesn’t think about anyone else. She’s selfish and messed up. The fact that she ran away after the miscarriage proves it.

  Greg told me everything. That she lost the baby and then just left without telling him where she was going. She didn’t think about me or him, or anyone for that matter. She just left us all behind. And now here I am in this fucked-up place in the middle of nowhere, because she put me here. If it weren’t for her, I’d still be sitting on my park bench. I was okay then. My life was simple. Now I have to empty my bag every day while a stranger goes through my stuff.

  I’m herded around from room to room being told that my life is about to get so much better now that I’ve discovered why I drink, but it’s all bullshit. My life isn’t about to get better, because I wish I didn’t know what I know now. I wish I’d never found out why I drink. Not everyone needs to know, you know.

  My therapists say that until I can learn to love that part of me, I will never stop drinking, but how can I learn to love that part of me? I threw up in the therapy room. What the hell is that? It was as if my body rejected that memory, like it just wanted to get rid of it.

  Since that happened, I feel like I’ve been walking on shaky ground. I couldn’t eat tonight. The people in the centre have been really nice. Really sweet. I can see it in their eyes that some of them have been through the same kind of realisation, but it doesn’t make it easier. I just want to shut off the reality and go back to how things used to be before I met Alex. This has ruined my life. I will never be the same person. I don’t think I will ever love that part of me, which means I will probably never stop drinking, so this whole thing was a complete waste of time and money.

  40

  Audrey and Jack are busy gathering interviews for the report. DI Brook seems to have fucked off. I guess he’s keen to get to the lab and find out what Forensics know so he can draw some conclusions about whether all four deaths are connected. London hasn’t been threatened by a serial killer for decades, and the thought is a terrifying one.

  I’ve gained over four thousand followers on Twitter since my lunchtime report, which brings the grand total up to around forty-five thousand. I’m fast becoming a household name thanks to this story. I just wish I could get dry at the same time. I will. I know I will.

  Daylight is starting to fade and with it the temperature is plummeting further. I’m not sure what the plan is yet other than to file something for the evening bulletin. The editors will probably want me live again from the scene to top-and-tail the report: to introduce it and then give a few more details at the end; some insight that wasn’t in the report itself.

  My water bottle is empty now. I’ve done really well today, sipping slowly to keep me afloat. I need a refill, though, so I wander off with the excuse that I want to warm up for a bit. There’s a café opposite the park on the main road with an off licence next door, so I head there.

  After I’ve emptied a couple of shot bottles into my water bottle in the ladies’ toilets, I find a table and order a coffee with notes of ginger, hoping that it might save me from feeling worse than I already do. I feel like hell, I really do. I’m detoxing by cutting down slowly this time. The all-out abstention didn’t work, so this is phase two.

  I take a seat by the window, where there’s an unobstructed view of the park. I know Audrey will call if she needs me. She’s confident enough to ask the right questions. It’s reassuring to have her producing, especially when I feel like this.

  Holding onto the warm coffee mug as if my life depends on it is helping me feel almost normal. As normal as one can be when in the midst of a detox. The aroma is comforting. I get my notebook out and start to think about what I might say in the report. As I’m staring out of the window, mulling over the first line, my eye catches a man walking along the perimeter of the park, looking around as if he’s lost, and for a moment I swear it could be Greg. My mind must be playing tricks on me.

  Moments later, I’ve left the warm confines of the café and am standing outside, unsure of which way to go. I am trying to find the man I’m convinced is Greg. There was just something about him that felt so familiar. Did he go into the park? Or just walk past it? I decide to walk in the direction he was headed.

  I reach a crossroads and there’s no one around. I don’t know what I’m doing. I should be concentrating on my reporting; this is a wild goose chase if ever there was one, and my mind is all over the place. Perhaps I was just hallucinating. Worse things have happened. I sip from my water bottle as if that will help me decide which way to go.

  I’m still standing on the edge of the park, watching the traffic lights change, when I receive a call. ‘Newsroom’ flashes on the screen, but I can’t pick up. I’m paralysed with fear and yet I don’t know why. I’m a mess. A real mess. Moments after the newsroom call, ‘Audrey’ flashes on my screen. Something must have happened, so this time I pick up.

  ‘Have you seen the latest, Alex?’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘They’ve arrested someone for the murder of Maggie Horrocks.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘What do you think we should do? Abandon what we’re doing and get over to the police station? They’re going to hold a press conference within the hour.’

  There’s a knot in the pit of my stomach.

  ‘Call the newsroom and tell them we’re heading over to the station. I’ll meet you by the gate on the south side of the park.’

  ‘Okay. Should I bring Jack?’

  ‘Yes, bring Jack. The channel will want to carry the press conference live.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I really hope it’s not Nigel or Greg. I wonder if I should get on the phone to Anne Marie. Maybe she can be in our news package. I’ll deal with that after the presser.

  By the time we get to the police station, Audrey has read almost everything there is to read on Twitter about who the potential suspect could be, which is very little. There’s no hint of a name or w
here he’s from.

  ‘I hope he fucking rots in hell!’ Jack is happy about this development and not holding back from expressing it. ‘They should cut his balls off and feed them to the dogs.’

  ‘Not very fair on the doggies.’ Audrey is teasing him.

  There’s already a herd of cameramen jostling for a good spot, which all changes when a uniformed police officer appears.

  ‘Ladies and gents, we will be holding a press conference inside in about one hour. If you want to follow me, I will take you to the room so you can set up your cameras and get seated.’

  There’s a mad scramble to follow the officer back into the building and Jack disappears in the scrum. Audrey and I hang back. She’s trying to talk to Philippa and find out if they can carry the announcement live, while I don’t want to run into DI Brook before the press conference.

  I spot a shop across the street and gesture towards it. Audrey nods and turns away; she’s too busy to worry about what I’m up to. I need something to put in my mouth, chewing gum or boiled sweets.

  ‘So they’ve caught the guy, have they?’ the young Turkish cashier asks me.

  ‘We’re waiting to find out.’

  ‘Awful story. But then people don’t know who they are meeting these days online. Whatever happened to meeting in a pub or at a party?’

  When I get my wallet out of my bag, I see a beer mat with a number on it. I vaguely recall having picked it up while talking to Anne Marie. When I come out of the shop, Audrey isn’t there – she must have gone inside to talk to Jack – so I find a public payphone close to the station and dial the number scribbled on the mat. The line rings until a voicemail picks up. The message is short and pretty standard, but the male voice is unmistakable. It’s Charlie. And I’ve never known him not to answer his phone. I try his home phone from my mobile, but again, no answer. Maybe the journalist in Annabel was right. Shit.