“I’m not at liberty to share that information with you,” Nell said. Nor was she going to share that there were two armed guards at the hospital. “All affected residents have been offered alternative emergency accommodation.”
Mattie raised her eyebrows. “A couple of neighbours I spoke to said they believed the property housed asylum seekers. Can you confirm that?”
Why did people have to toss around unsubstantiated rumours? Nell kept her mask firmly in place. “I’m not at liberty to share personal information about residents.”
“That wasn’t my question.” Mattie tilted her head, her expression one of pure stubbornness.
No way was Nell going to cave into her. “I recognise that the local community have concerns, and while there will be an increased police presence, there’s no need to be overly alarmed.” She made a point of looking straight into the camera. “We’re appealing to the local community to resist speculating on social media while the investigation is ongoing. We’d also like to ask any witnesses who’ve not yet come forward to contact us. Thank you.” Nell ducked under the police cordon and strode away, making it clear that there’d be no opportunity for an off-the-record chat. All reporters wanted a chance of getting more background, an extra fact or suspicion, something they could work on to get a better story than their rivals. Mattie would be no different, regardless of how...becoming she was. Nell turned to talk to Duncan, expecting him to be alongside her, but he wasn’t. She looked back and tsked when she saw him talking to Mattie. “PC Duncan!”
He scurried over. “Ma’am?”
“Don’t let yourself be swayed by the press. We’ve got work to do.” Nell marched as far away from the cordon as possible, each step fuelled with concern. “It’s clear that some in the local community know the house was being used for more than standard living purposes. It’s only a matter of time before someone finds out that it was a domestic violence refuge. The last thing we want is to alert the abusers these women have fled from.” She glared as a man – press photographer? Local resident? – ducked under the police tape and trained his camera on the scene. “Who is that?”
“I’m not sure, ma’am. I’ll investigate straight away,” said Duncan.
“And push the cordon further back. This is a crime scene, not a movie set.” Her concern for the women involved was behindher snapped command. The possibility of their whereabouts potentially being revealed to the abusers they’d fled from was something she couldn’t bear to contemplate. The investigating team needed to check as a matter of urgency if witnesses had uploaded footage of the fire to social media and, if so, whether any of the women or children were identifiable. Mattie’s live footage had already been screened on national TV. Were the residents’ faces on-screen? Nell reached for her police radio. There was no time to lose. She would do everything in her power to keep the women safe. She owed it to them, and to herself, to keep the promise she’d made all those years ago.
Chapter 5
Mattie’s journalist antennae twitched as she watched Nell dispatch the fresh-faced officer to deal with a man who’d ducked under the cordon to take a selfie. Nell had avoided answering the asylum hostel question and refused to give other basic details such as the age and sex of the child who was rescued. Clearly, there was more to this story, and Nell was hiding behind a defence of not wanting to prejudice the investigation. Fair enough. But why? What if it was a safehouse used for witness protection? It’d be worth following up if the building had been targeted because of that, or perhaps local rumours were correct, and there was an asylum link.
“Hi.”
Mattie dragged herself away from watching Nell to find out who was talking to her. It was the young female journalist from the press conference. Mattie shook her proffered hand. “Hi.”
“I’m Rosie, Rosie Sutton. I’m a reporter on the local paper.” She bounced on her toes as she spoke. “Please can I interview you for an eyewitness account?”
There was absolutely no way Mattie wanted to become part of a story ever again. Reporting stories, yes, but not being part of their narrative. However, Rosie looked so damn earnest that shedialled back her initial reaction to barkno. “I’m sure there are far better people to interview than me.”
“But you were one of the first on the scene,” said Rosie, “and you’re famous.”
Mattie quirked her eyebrow.
“I’ve watched and read so much of your work, especially the war reports from Syria. They were stunning.” Rosie’s words rushed out of her mouth at break-neck speed. “Please? I won’t take too much of your time.”
She was persistent, Mattie would give her that. Rosie reminded her of herself in her first reporter role: enthusiastic and determined, not jaded and scarred like she was now.
“I’d been kind of hoping I’d get to meet you at Mum’s,” said Rosie.
“Now you’ve lost me.”
Rosie hid her face in her hands briefly. “Sorry, I’m suffering from a serious dose of hero-worship and making everything way more complicated than it should be. My mum runs Cove House.”
“Ah, now I get it. You’re Angie’s daughter.” Looking closer, Mattie saw similarities in the two women’s features. “Angie didn’t let on that she recognised me.”
“Mum wouldn’t. She respects her guests’ privacy.”
“I’m glad.” Mattie looked back at the fire scene and caught a view of Nell striding across the road towards a patrol car, all long legs and straight back in her police uniform. It wasn’t just Mattie’s journalist antennae that twitched. “Wait, that means you know the chief inspector outside of work?”
“I do, yes, but we never acknowledge it when we’re at work. Nell draws a clear distinction between her professional life and her home one,” said Rosie. “She’s very particular about it.”
Was that why Nell had been so standoffish with Mattie earlier? Impish, teasing Nell had vanished. Despite the heat, her crisp shirt sleeves were firmly buttoned at her wrists andthe cravat neat at her collar, both of which seemed symbolic of today’s uptight version. As someone for whom her career was everything, Mattie could relate.
“So can I interview you? Over a coffee? Or ice-cold water?”
Mattie hesitated. She really didn’t want to relive the fire, but Rosie’s wide-eyed enthusiasm was infectious and saying no would be akin to kicking a puppy. Besides, it would be an opportunity to surreptitiously learn more about Nell. “Go on then. But it better serve coffee at least as good as your mum’s and have a sea view. I have high standards.”
Rosie grinned. “I know just the place.”
