Page 18 of Worse Than Murder
‘That’s sweet.’
I take a sip of my water. ‘Have you found the words you want to use yet?’
She takes a deep breath and nods.
‘I need your help. Your advice, really. I know why you’re here. I know what happened to you back in Sheffield and that you’re here to make sense of it all. The last thing you want is to deal with a huge murder investigation. I understand all that, I really do. However, I have nowhere else left to turn, and, I know this may sound selfish, but I’m using the resources which are at hand and, right now, that’s you.’
I almost smile at her bluntness and honestly. I nod for her to continue.
‘I’m the youngest of three children. I have two older sisters. Identical twins. When I was five years old, we were all out playing hide-and-seek. The next thing I remember is being completely on my own. I ran to the road nearby and I saw my sisters in the back of a car being driven away. I even waved at them.’ Her voice begins to falter. ‘It was the last I saw of them. It was the last anyone ever saw of them.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘My dad was devastated. He took it really hard. He adored the twins. I mean, he loved all of us, but the twins were special. They were twins, after all. A few months later, there was a storm. Dad had taken me to see my gran– his mum– and on the drive back home he… well, I don’t know what happened. Mum found me asleep in the back of the car. We were parked right at the edge of the lake, the water rising rapidly. My dad was nowhere to be found. It’s thought that he walked out into the lake and drowned himself.’
‘Good grief.’ And I thought I’d been through the shit.
‘To say that my childhood was one of darkness and upset would be a massive understatement. I have no idea how my mother coped. I think she had some kind of breakdown. My Uncle Iain wasn’t much help, either. I went to live with my Auntie Margaret and Uncle Colin in Tunstall for a while. It’s not really something we talk about. Anyway, I wanted to be a police officer from a young age. I wanted to find answers. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to find any. I’ve no idea what happened to my sisters. Nobody does. And I don’t know if my dad simply walked away or if he really is at the bottom of the lake. There have been sightings of him over the years, but… Mum thinks he’s dead. Everyone thinks he’s dead. I… I don’t know what to think. It’s the unknown that’s eating away at me. How can there be nothing after thirty years?’
I take a deep breath. I know what’s coming.
‘I have a feeling I know the answer to this question, but what do you want from me?’
‘I could spend an hour blowing smoke up your arse saying how brilliant you are as a detective. We both know your track record, so we know your history speaks for itself. I also know that, right now, you’re grieving and you’re angry. But there’s a difference. You know what’s happened to your family. I don’t. I’m in limbo and have been for thirty years. Are my sisters dead or alive? If they are alive, are they together or have they been separated? Do they know who they are? Are they looking for me, too? Do they even remember they have another sister? It’s the not knowing that’s painful. It’s the fact that there are so many variables that I can’t get over. This is worse than murder. If they’d been killed, if we had bodies, I could grieve and visit their graves. I’ve got nothing.’
She looks down and composes herself. When she looks back up at me, her face has lost the redness of rage. ‘Like you, I’m an excellent police officer, but I need help. I needyourhelp. I’m not asking you to reopen an investigation. I know you don’t have that power, and I know you won’t, but I need a direction. I’m blinded as I’m too close to this. I need an outsider to tell me where to go next to find out what happened to my sisters and my dad. I will literally get on my knees and beg you for help, if that’s what it takes.’
‘You don’t need to do that,’ I say, sitting back and folding my arms across my chest.
‘You’re not going to help me, though, are you?’
I shake my head. ‘I can’t. I’m sorry. I really wish I could, but right now, I’m not in the best place to help anyone. Not even myself. That’s why I’m here and not back in Sheffield.’
Alison struggles to hold back her tears. She’s disappointed. ‘Can I ask you for just one teeny tiny favour?’
‘Go on.’
‘When you get a spare five minutes, type Celia and Jennifer Pemberton into Google. Read the news stories. I’ll not ask for your help again, but if there’s anything, anything at all you can suggest I do to find out what happened, give me a call.’ She reaches into the back pocket of her trousers and takes out a crumpled business card. She lays it on the table between us.
‘I’m not expecting you to go all private detective on this. I just need a nudge in the right direction.’
‘I’m not the best person to help you right now.’
‘You are. You found Carl Meagan.’
‘A neighbour found Carl.’
‘Please.’
I look away.
Alison stands up. The dogs don’t even move at the sound of the chair scraping across the tiled floor.
‘I’ll leave you to it. I hope you don’t mind me at least coming here and trying.’
‘No. I’d have probably done the same thing, if I were you. I’m just sorry I’m not in a position to help.’
She waits a beat, takes another breath and heads out of the restaurant through the main doors. She walks down the steps with her head down and slowly climbs into the car. As she’s reversing out of the space, she looks up at me.
