Page 67 of Don't Believe A Word

‘Frankly, I don’t know where to go with it, apart from the obvious place.’

She glanced at him, her hands tightening on the wheel. ‘You mean Mia?’

He nodded soberly.

‘That doesn’t make any sense when the story is designed to cast them as rescuers of a child from social services, rather than anything more … sinister. She surely wouldn’t have had a problem with that.’

‘It was still illegal to hold onto the child, and maybe Mia found the rest of the story and … destroyed it? She wouldn’t want any of it getting out for the very reason she’s facing now: Sadie is looking into it and wants to know more.’

Slowing as they reached the Ashton Gate traffic lights, Cristy said, ‘And we know that Lottie’s computers were disposed of quite soon after her death. Was that Mia’s way of making sure nothing more came to light?’

‘Seems a reasonable conclusion to me.’

‘There must have been a post mortem following Lottie’s death. We’ll get Jacks onto it.’ She thought about it some more and added, ‘I think we should keep this to ourselves for now, at least until we’ve got something a bit more substantial to work with.’

‘Clove and Jacks?’

‘Obviously we’ll share with them, but at this stage it’s absolutely not something to share with Sadie.’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

‘Sadie was very upset about the way she deceived you,’ Robert was telling Cristy the next morning as they enjoyed a coffee together at Côte Brasserie in Clifton. He’d rung late yesterday, after returning to Bristol following the reunion between his mother and Sadie, and his suggestion that they meet today had raised Cristy’s spirits in a way she didn’t care to examine too closely. She was just glad to see him.

‘She feels foolish and ashamed,’ he continued, ‘and says she acted immaturely when she should have trusted you from the start.’

‘And you said?’ Cristy prompted, liking the avuncular amusement in his eyes.

‘I told her she was right, that she should feel all those things and that perhaps she should go out and shoot herself to show proper remorse.’

Cristy choked on a laugh. ‘I know you didn’t say that, but I hope you didn’t let her off the hook too readily.’

He smiled. ‘From where I was sitting she looked a lonely, mixed-up kid who’s desperate not to be hurt while knowing she’s probably going to be.’

Impressed and touched by his insight, she said, ‘I think you’re right about that. How did she react to seeing your mother?’

‘She wept, quite a lot, and Gita was wonderful with her, as she is with most people. Have you seen the video?’

‘Not yet, but it’s ready for me to view when I get to the office.’

‘You’re working today? It’s Saturday.’

‘We’re prepping the next episode ready for Tuesday. Music,sound effects, last-minute edits. You remember it features your interviews?’

‘I do, and I’m ready to embrace the fame. Will you use any of the reunion?’

‘I’m sure of it, given how pumped-up Clove and Jacks are about it. Incidentally, they’re looking into ways of adopting your mother – and from what I can tell Gita is looking into ways of adopting Sadie?’

Laughing, he said, ‘It had quite an effect on her seeing the small child she remembers from so long ago all grown-up and quite lovely now. When you watch you’ll see how she kept touching her face and gazing at her as if she was some sort of angel come back to life. I can’t recall her ever looking at me that way.’

Amused and liking his evident love for his mother, Cristy said, ‘How was Sadie with you?’

He gave it a moment’s thought before answering. ‘A little shy at first, but she warmed up when we went through the photos together. She really is astonishingly like her mother … There was no mention of her father. Have you made any progress with that?’

‘Not on who he was, exactly, but we do know now where Janina was living at the time you met her.’

He raised an eyebrow with interest.

‘It was in a farmhouse, near Kylve, that was under police surveillance for a while … I’m afraid it was all gang- and trafficking-related, and part of a much bigger organized crime network. Anyway, the man who lived at the farm – one George Symmonds-Browne – is no longer there, so before we go knocking on the Met’s door for whatever they’re prepared to give us, we’re working on tracking him down.’

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