I hear her take a breath to speak, but then she stops herself.
‘You do realise, it’s all just a game to her, Dan. She befriends people, fast. And then she love-bombs them, casts her spell upon them and puts them under it until they’re completely in her control, nothing more than a grateful puppet for her to play with and manipulate. There was no fallout, no argument between us, never… she was my friend, truly, the best friend I’ve ever had. She seemed to understand me better than anyone else I’ve ever met before…’ Her voice trails off into a melancholy whisper. ‘Onething Idoknow is that she thinks that she’s cleverer than you or me. And the maddening truth – no pun intended – is that she’s probably right.’
‘We sent a car to your address earlier, to do a welfare check. You weren’t at home. I have to ask you this, Erin, but where were you last Thursday evening?’
Her shrill laugh jangles my nerves a touch.
‘Finally! I’ve been waiting for you to ask this question, Dan, and the truth is, I don’t have an alibi for the night of your murder, but I was at home, alone. I ate scrambled eggs on toast for dinner while watchingGrease– one of my favourite films, incidentally – and drank a bottle of red wine. Usually, I prefer white, or sparkling, ideally, but it was on special in Spar.’
‘Are you somewhere safe, Erin? Re-Connex has reported you missing.’
‘Bloody hell, that was quick!’ She seems surprised. ‘Good old Molly… Listen, I want it on record that she’s done nothing wrong. I broke her trust and I’m sorry, but I had to.’
‘Who’s Molly, Erin?’
‘Oh, and you’ll probably speak to Malcolm as well, I’m sure.’
‘Who’s Malcolm?’ I reach for a pen on the coffee table, write the names down on the back of a gas bill.
‘My neighbour from across the hall. We slept together yesterday afternoon, just so you know.’
‘Oh. OK…’
‘But he really doesn’t know anything about me. Perhaps you can apologise to him on my behalf as well? Tell him Erin says, “I’m sorry.”’
‘I’m concerned for you, Erin. Part of the conditions of your release is that you have to make your parole officer aware of your movements. I don’t want you to get into trouble. Why did you leave your address abruptly without telling anyone? What are you running from, Erin?’
‘Not runningfrom, Dan, runningto. She’ll do it again, you realise. She won’t stop until someone stops her.’
‘Who? Samantha?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you want to stop her?’
The line goes silent for a moment. At this point I have no idea if Erin Santos is somehow involved or even jointly responsible for Milo Harrison’s death, but the fact that she was released from Larksmere just six weeks previously and an almost identical crime to her own has since been committed naturally rings some alarm bells, big ones.
‘What are you going to do, Erin?’ I get a feeling that she’s planning something, and the knot in my guts seems to be telling me it’s not especially good.
‘Can I speak to this woman, the one you arrested, the one who claims to know Sam? It would be helpful if I could. I know what she’s going through right now, what she must be feeling, I can help her…’
‘I’m afraid that’s not possible, Erin. Look, I understand why you might not have much faith, or trust, in the police. Reading the case file from 2019, it seems you were let down. But I want to help you, Erin, I really do.’
‘Let down…’ she repeats the words back to me. ‘Let down, yeah, that’s a good one, Dan. I believe you though, when you say you want to help. It’s why I chose you. I see it in your eyes – a determination,a shared quest for truth and justice.’
‘What does justice look like to you, Erin? I can hear that you feel wronged, and reading your file would suggest you may have some cause. But you have to let me deal with this.’ I’m growing increasingly concerned that her view of justice may look something more like revenge, and so it’s a gentle warning.
‘“Righteousness and justice are the foundation of your throne; loving kindness and truth go before you.”Psalm 89:14.I learned the Bible by heart while I was in Larksmere,’ she tells me, proudly. ‘“Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute.” Psalm 82:3.’ Her voice drops, hardens suddenly. ‘I know what my justice looks like,Dan.’
This is doing nothing to assuage my concerns.
‘Whoisshe, Erin? WhoisSamantha Valentine?’
She bursts into musical laughter.
‘Ha! You tell me. You’re the detective. What does the devil look like, Dan? I’ve spent every single day since I met her asking myself this very question – that together withwhy? You get a lot of time to reflect when you’re locked away in a cell, zombified by the anti-psychotic drugs they pump you full of to keep you compliant and ensure you don’t have a single human thought left inside your head.’ She takes a breath. ‘Do you know the worst part of all of this?’
‘There’s a worse part?’
