A Cry in the Night (34 page)

‘No.’

‘Yes. Sam was right. He’s a really good cop, Helen. He worked out what you’d done.’

Helen was staring at the briefcase, trying to discern its significance.

‘I’ve got the details here. The case, the witness’s name and original address, the police’s inability to find him and all the problems this has caused for their investigation. You have perverted the course of justice. Sam knew it, but didn’t have the proof. But I’m more thorough than him.’

Zoe tapped the bag.

‘You lied to me, Helen.’ Zoe watched her flounder. ‘How do I trust you?’

‘It’s not what you think.’

‘Oh God, don’t use words like that.’

‘Let me explain it to you.’

‘You broke the law.’

‘It’s not as easy—’

‘Yes. It is. To me it is.’

‘Jesus, Zoe …’

Helen ran out of words and Zoe saw how rattled she was. She sipped on her tea, put the mug down, then picked it up again and clutched it tight to her.

‘What else have you lied about?’ Zoe asked. ‘How about Sarah? Did she do it? Really?’

Helen drained her tea. When she spoke, it was fast and quiet.

‘It was you guys, not me, who cocked up the case by jumping in without enough evidence. I don’t think Sarah did it. Actually, I’m sure she didn’t. She has a history with the police and she’d got it in her head that saying nothing was the only way to deal with you. Her brother’s a dealer, so the whole family gets a little touchy when it comes to the boys in blue.’

‘But you fed her that story, about being stoned in the woods.’

‘No, I didn’t, I promise. I get people to talk because I tell them that I’ll do anything to protect them. And I back that up with results. Sarah was desperate to unburden herself. She just didn’t dare talk to you. Listen, this witness—’

‘Do you think she knows what happened to Lily?’

‘No, and I don’t really have anything more to tell you about the case. Zoe, let me explain myself and this business with Ricky Howell. Please.’

Zoe sighed and waved a hand as though she were being generous.

‘Ricky Howell is a drug-dependent fantasist,’ Helen said. ‘Six months before, he’d been used by the police as a witness in a GBH case. The cops were desperate to nail some thug and they knew Ricky had been in the vicinity. So they picked him up and scared the shit out of him, locked him up and intimidated him. He took the stand and told the jury a whole host of details that he simply didn’t see. Wasn’t my case, by the way, but I know the barrister involved and he was steaming. So when I saw that Ricky could be a possible witness on this one, I knew that James Frey and his chums would be back to their old tricks. So I moved him, before they could mess with his head. He’s an incredibly sensitive and vulnerable man.’

‘You just did the same as them. Just the same!’

‘No, I was protecting him from them.’

‘Did he see what happened?’

‘No. No, that’s the point – I didn’t bloody tamper with a witness because he didn’t see a thing. I moved him to stop the cops using him. Do you see?’

It was plausible. But then again, a barrister as good as her would expose a fantasist like Ricky Howell in court with ease.

‘You’ve broken the law, Helen. You are a solicitor, you know how important that is, you know exactly what you’ve done.’

She watched Helen sag and nod.

‘Say it.’

‘Yes. Yes, I’ve broken the law. I don’t need a jumped-up copper to tell me that.’

It took Helen a little longer than Zoe had expected, but suddenly her head snapped up as the thought struck her.

‘Why did you ask me to say that? Out loud?’

In answer, Zoe pulled out the small recording device from her pocket and placed it on the table. It was new and sleek and fitted in perfectly with its lush surroundings. Helen stared at it, ashen. Zoe pressed a button and a small beep announced that the recording had ended.

‘Mr Frey said he would destroy me, unless I got you,’ Zoe said, with a shrug that was less apologetic, more matter-of-fact. ‘At first I was livid, but then I thought about the way you’ve been using me and it felt pretty even. This case, all the cases, they’re just one long fight between you two. That’s all any of this is. The cases, Sam, me.’

‘It’s more than a fight.’ said Helen, low and quiet and angry.

‘You kept saying “trust me” and “I’ll look after you”, and you were lying to me all the time. All the time. You’re just like them!’

Suddenly Helen reached across the table and grabbed Zoe by her wrist. ‘Delete it, please. Wipe it out.’

Although Helen was panicking, the movement was still intimate. Zoe looked away, uncomfortable. On the fridge were dozens of small magnets, collected from her travels. Rome, New York City, Beijing, Malibu. She felt the heat of Helen’s breath and when she turned to face her, they were close enough to kiss.

‘That man uses these cases, he uses everything to his own ends. He’s a cunt. I’ve known him practically all my life. He hates women. Hates them. And each time a case comes up like this, he makes sure he splashes it as loud as he can. To hurt us.’

Zoe thought about the way the stories had leaked to the press and the media and the fuss they’d caused.

‘Why does he hate women so much?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe his mother screwed the milkman, who cares?’ Helen said. ‘I saw what he was doing and it made me angry. So I made it my business to take on those cases and make it an even fight.’

Zoe gently pulled her wrist away, but the women remained close.

‘Don’t you see where this goes?’ Helen said. ‘He takes every broken woman and pushes them into the spotlight – turns them into monsters and witches, and suddenly we’re all like that. We’re all part of the gang. Don’t trust women, they’re all potential child murderers. Don’t trust your wife with your kids, don’t leave your nanny alone with your loved ones. Beware women. Beware. Turn your back on us and we’ll stab your babies. That’s what he wants.’

Yes, those are what the headlines were saying until they got bored and moved on to something else. And yes, Zoe had felt the effect, felt guilty by the simple association to her sex. Maybe there was a tipping point, a crime that would break men and women for ever.

‘You have to destroy that, Zoe.’

Zoe looked down at the recorder.

‘If you hand that in, he’ll use it to destroy every case I’ve ever defended. He’ll kill me. And in a few years’ time he’ll find a way to get you thrown out – whatever he says.’

This was true, Zoe conceded to herself.

‘You’re a clever girl,’ Helen said. ‘You’ve met that man, seen him face to face. Are you really telling me you’d put more faith in him than me?’

‘He told me you were bent and told me to get you. You are, and I have.’

‘And he’s told Sam that Sarah Downing is guilty and to nail her. And he will. But she didn’t kill her kids.’

No motive, no evidence. But still Sam stalked her. Was this really because Mr Frey had told him to?

‘If you hand that in,’ Helen said, ‘they’ll get Sarah. She won’t have me to watch her and all of those fucking men will make sure they send her down. And then they’ll go after all the other women I’ve defended. Yes, I screwed with a witness, but I only did it before they did. One bloody witness. That’s all. Are you really going to have me burnt for one man?’

‘If I don’t hand this in, then he’ll burn me too.’

She had been so certain as she planned this all out. But now the choices were too great, the outcomes too uncertain.

‘Zoe, you don’t have to hand that in tonight. You don’t have to do anything right here and now.’

Another hand on her wrist.

‘Please. Please don’t go to Mr Frey with this. They are working together against us. You know it’s true, don’t you?’

Zoe thought about how much pleasure Mr Frey would take if he finally managed to bring Helen down.

‘I’m not going to tell him,’ Zoe said after some thought.

‘Thank you. Thank you. You’re doing the right thing, you are.’

‘I’m going to tell Sam.’

Helen’s mouth fluttered open for a second. Zoe saw her shake her head as the momentum of this hit her.

‘But Sam works for him. It’s the same. You tell Sam, you tell your boss.’

Maybe. Maybe not.

‘Zoe, please, think about this.’

But that was all she was doing. She was thinking so hard her head was spinning.

‘You’ve got Sam wrong,’ Zoe replied. But then she thought about him and her that morning, facing each other over the breakfast table, so angry and far apart. But then again, if Sam were right, then it was Helen who shouldn’t be trusted. The women she had defended were guilty at best. At worst, Helen commanded and orchestrated their crimes. But something inside her turned away from this.

Too many variables. Too many choices. Too much to go wrong.

‘Sam’s one of them,’ Helen said. ‘He’ll go running to his bosses. You know he will.’

He had lied to her. He had lied and hidden things from her. And worse.

‘He’s desperate to hurt me. You can’t. You mustn’t. You know what these men are like, Zoe. If they get me, they’ll rip me apart.’

Zoe turned away, grabbing the recorder, but Helen pulled her around to face her. ‘What are you going to do?’

Zoe felt Helen’s arms holding her tight, and she wished she could say words that would make it all alright. Square
the circle, magic a happy ending. But she simply didn’t know how.

‘I have to talk to Sam,’ she stammered, and stood up.

Helen pulled at her, desperate. ‘Zoe – for God’s sake!’

‘I have to go,’ was all Zoe could say. ‘I have to.’

Helen stared at her, finally empty of words. Zoe hurried up the stairs to the front door. As she did so, Helen came after her again.

‘But why?’ she called. ‘Why trust him? Why?’

Zoe pushed through the door and out into the cold. The question charged after her.

‘Why?’ Helen cried out, as Zoe got to her car.

Zoe turned on the engine with a shaking hand. She pushed the car forward and saw Helen framed in the doorway, staring out at her like a ghost. She drove much faster than she should.

All the traffic lights seemed to turn green for her. The streets were quiet and she was flushed out of the city in no time. The roads shone wet as she progressed, and signs flashed weather warnings from the side of the motorway. The fields on either side went from a dappled coat to a thicker blanket, and slowly, inevitably, the dusting on the road turned to a slush that thickened. Cars slumped into the sludge and slowed, and stopped. The jam stretched for miles.

It would be easier to turn back.

Zoe’s fingers tapped out an uncertain rhythm on the steering wheel.

The fields beyond were an endless blur of white. The side windows steamed up. Zoe pushed the car on, inching forward, yard by yard. Slowly, slowly, slowly. As the sun rose, she saw snow glint on the top of the fells. She was getting closer. Slowly, slowly, slowly.

At one point she thought that she saw Helen at the wheel of the car behind her. It shocked her, the idea that Helen would come after her, chasing her all the way back to Lullingdale, but she also believed it possible. She was a woman who got what she wanted, after all. Zoe wondered if she should have believed any of the things she’d told her, but as she considered this, so she looked again in the mirror and Helen was no longer there. Maybe she never had been.

By the morning she had reached the far side of the lake. The road died here, and there was no way forward. She parked her car with the others, next to a line of vehicles that had not found shelter and were now white humps among the frozen deluge. A local explained that some farmers were planning on clearing the roads themselves, using their tractors, as it could often take the council ages to clear a way through. Zoe asked how long this would take and the men sighed and pulled faces. With luck, Adam and Chris would be through by lunchtime. On the other hand, Clarky
had been moaning about problems with spark plugs all last week and if he couldn’t get his one going …

They advised her to stay put. The weathermen said it would all be melted by the end of the day anyway.

She thanked them and turned away. Three geese flew above her, so low she spun and ducked as they passed. She heard the wings beat against the air and watched their graceful, effortless journey over the lake with both envy and delight. Three kids nearby were building a snowman. She listened to their giggles while her heart beat fast.

She looked to the lake. At the far end, hidden by thick mist, was Lullingdale village.

Zoe noticed a small red dinghy, turned upside down, only visible from the snow because half of it was sheltered under a crumbling jetty. She trudged down to inspect it. The kids mucked about behind her and when she turned to them, she was wearing her friendliest smile.

‘Hi guys!’ she said, beaming. ‘Any idea who owns that boat down there?’

Sam was surprised to hear that Helen had left the village. He received the news from Bernie with mixed emotions; part anger that she had slipped away again, but also intrigue as to why, and what she had left in her wake. There was still no power in the village and all the pub could offer in the way of breakfast was juice and cereal. Sam politely refused both. He needed to be watching Sarah.

He made his way back to Bud’s place as the day broke: the sky was still a deep-purple bruise as he crunched through the snow. It was like one of his old surveillance jobs back in Manchester where he’d sit in a car, the engine off so as not to attract attention, slowly freezing away as he watched rubbish-strewn alleyways. Today he was on foot, accompanied by a plucky robin redbreast that bobbed on nearby branches, and breathing in air that was pure and clear. But it didn’t change a thing – the job was the job.

It made more sense the more he thought about it. If Helen had been involved, then she would have been the one who stole the children. It would have been impossible for Sarah to move them on her own, and police and witness statements showed that she hadn’t left the village that day. But Helen could easily have slipped in and out without anyone knowing. And, if this was true, then she would have been the one who would have kept Lily alive.