Lost Souls by Jenny O'Brien (android e book reader txt) 📕

help Conor understand that she was far from a threat to his relationship with his father. Her mobile ringing was a welcome relief from the mishmash of ideas that had her considering whether Dr Mulholland was far more trouble than he was worth.

‘Darin speaking.’

‘Ma’am, sorry for disturbing your evening but I have something that I need to discuss with you.’

‘Marie! What the hell are you doing working this late?’ she said, well aware of the snappy timbre of her voice and making a silent promise to moderate her tone for the remainder of the conversation. In her experience, nothing good ever came from a late-night phone call and she wondered what the problem could be.

‘It wasn’t planned but Diane was keen to finish the CCTV footage so I decided to keep her company. The thing is, I’ve come across something that may or may not be relevant to Fry’s disappearance. Remember the Stevens case?’

The Stevens case. Gaby nearly dropped the phone. How could she ever forget! One of the worst times of her life and the reason why she wasn’t up to full fitness after having her spleen sliced in two.

‘Ma’am, are you there?’

‘Yes, Marie. I haven’t gone anywhere.’ She slid back down on the sofa, resting her elbow on the arm, her legs tucked underneath her. ‘Go on. You were telling me about the links to the Stevens case.’

‘Yes, well, it seems as if the man Ellie met might be Ronan Stevens, the son. Diane had a brain wave and decided to check through the footage from the previous day to see if she could find a clearer image and, lo and behold, she found a couple that show his facial features clearly. I’ve compared them with the ones taken at the time but I can’t be sure. I know you’ve met him so I’ve just pinged them over.’

‘Okay, I’m going to put you on loudspeaker while I boot up my laptop.’ She picked up her briefcase from where Rusty had set it on one end of the coffee table and started fiddling with the leather straps. ‘I take it that Diane isn’t with you?’ she said, her voice loud in the empty room.

‘No. I told her to go home. I hope you don’t mind me saying but, with her skills and attitude, she’d make a fine addition to the team.’

‘Yes. I agree. We’ll have to work on her when we have these cases out of the way.’ She placed the laptop in front of her, propped up the lid and logged on.

Her inbox had a pile of unread messages. It was a mystery how they built up when she’d made sure to clear them before leaving the office. Ignoring them all apart from the final one, she clicked open the attachment and peered down at the screen, shifting her finger to the zoom button. The image had the same fuzzy clarity she’d come to expect from these sorts of pictures but it was still good enough for her to be dragged back three months and the last time she’d seen the boy, standing beside the open door of his parents’ lounge, the look of hope and expectation dying under the weight of her words. The same finely etched features. The dark hollows crowding his cheeks. The broad-domed forehead partially concealed by his overlong dark fringe and the only part of him that reminded her of his father. She’d thought him a boy then, young for his years. There was no trace of the child in him now. Instead there was a man and, with that thought, her insides heaved as she struggled to keep the contents of her stomach in place.

‘Ma’am?’

‘Yes, sorry. Just thinking. You and Diane have done a fabulous job, thank you.’

‘So, it’s him then?’

‘Yes. I’ll have a think as to what I’m going to do about it. It’s certainly a curve ball I wasn’t expecting,’ she said, her attention on the empty coffee mugs. It was a good job she’d barely touched the wine, which had more to do with Conor’s disapproving stare than any problem with the Italian Shiraz his dad had brought. What she needed was caffeine, and lots of it, as the thought of getting any sleep tonight slipped further into the distance.

Chapter 27

Gaby

Monday 3 August, 9.20 p.m. Amy’s house

Knocking on Amy’s door was the last thing Gaby had envisaged for the end of her evening, not that twenty past nine was anywhere near her bedtime. She’d planned on being tucked up in bed with a cup of cocoa and the latest novel by Victoria Cooke, to bridge the gap between the dream and the reality of her date with Rusty. Now she was huddled in her thin jacket, hoping that Tim hadn’t taken Amy out somewhere after what must have been the most stressful of days. Being a detective was nothing to the pressure that her friend faced in the role of family liaison officer and Gaby couldn’t begin to understand what motivated her to continue in such a thankless profession. At least she had the joy of seeing the odd criminal banged to rights. All Amy got was a shift into the next emotionally charged situation where there was no rulebook and actions had to be tailored to the unpredictable behaviour of the people involved.

The door opened on the third knock. Gaby lowered her hand and stuffed it into the pocket of her jacket. ‘Sorry it’s so late and sorry if I’m interrupting anything.’

‘Not a thing. Tim’s working tonight so there’s nothing to interrupt,’ Amy said with a mischievous grin as she tugged her ponytail tight and gestured for her to follow her into the lounge. ‘I take it there’s been a development?’

‘You could say that.’ Gaby walked over to the large painting above the fireplace, admiring the bold lines and bright colours. ‘A new addition?’

‘Yes. You know what Tim’s like. There’s a new art gallery opened up in Caernarfon, which he dragged me to at the weekend.’

‘Well,