‘Tilly Ward. She sent me an email.’
‘When?’
I head into the kitchen, hear my daughter, Juno, shouting out to me in the background in her adorable helium baby voice.
‘Come back, Pop-Pop…’
‘In a minute, Pip, Pop-Pop won’t be long.’
I close the door behind me, immediately start pacing up and down with all the excess adrenalin that’s trying to push through my skin.
‘Is this another bad time?’ she says. ‘Because I can always?—’
‘There’s no such thing as a good time, Erin. I’ve got three kids, remember?’
‘Yes. I do. Tell me, Dan, what are their names? What’s your baby son’s name? I imagine you gave him a strong title, something classic that won’t date, something like George or Charles or William – am I right?’
‘I’m not going to tell you my children’s names, Erin…’
‘Why not?’ She sounds offended. ‘I was just trying to make conversation, only I can hear that maybe you don’t really want one of those right now, so I’ll just hang up and…’
‘… His name is Jude,’ I say quickly.
‘Hmmm,Juuuude.’ She rolls my son’s name from her tongue. ‘It’s a bit different, I suppose, a littleobscureeven. Was that the reason you gave him the name, after Thomas Hardy’sJude the Obscure?’
‘My wife chose it,’ I say, not wanting to admit that it had nothing to do with any literary genius and everything to do with Fiona’s crush on the actor Jude Law.
I’m not exactly keen on being blackmailed into giving over my son’s name, but I have to try to get her to trust me again somehow – and more importantly, to keep her talking. But how does she know Tilly’s surname? Has it been leaked to the press? Did Tilly tell Erin herself?
I’ve no idea what Tilly’s playing at by contacting Erin. Has she not yet seen her photo on social media, recognised who Erin is? Did she send the message before Erin’s photo was made public? She must’ve done. When I think about it though, if Erin reallyisSamantha Valentine, then wouldn’t she already know Tilly’s surname anyway? Sweet Jesus, my head feels bent out of shape. Is she just screwing with me, is this all just some crazy-making game? I rub my temples with my spare thumb and forefinger, try to focus.
‘What did Tilly say in the message, Erin?’
I’ve got to keep her talking long enough to alert the incident room that she’s on the line. I’d given Erin my own personal phone number to use, but I have another, my force-issued phone. I hold my breath as I fire a text off to Davis from it.
She’s on the line.
‘I’m appreciating the most beautiful view right now, Dan,’ she says. ‘It feels like I’m on top of the world, looking down at it, or maybe not down, that makes me sound like a real Negative Nelly, doesn’t it? Maybe looking “out” is better. Anyway, you live in an incredible city.’
‘So youarein London?’
‘Not for much longer, Dan.’
I sit down at our kitchen table, on top of Custard, Jude’s soft cloth cat. He squeaks as I pull him out from underneath me and throw him on the floor.
Sorry, Custard.
‘So, then, tell me, Erin, what’s the plan?’
I try to keep my voice level and chatty, towards upbeat. I don’t want her to hear the anxiety that’s tightening my larynx and making my throat feel dry. I take a sip of juice from one of the kids’ beakers on the table. There’s only a mouthful left, and the second I swallow it, I need more.
‘We had a conversation over email. It was very cathartic, I think, for both of us. She sounds so nice, so innocent, soordinary– Samantha’s dream victim, I should imagine.’There’s a pause. ‘Tilly told me that she’s hard of hearing, and it made me think of you, Dan, of your son. Surely you can see that Samantha chose her because she’s vulnerable, just like I was, albeit in a different way perhaps…’ Her voice trails off. ‘What Samantha does, what shedid, to both Tilly and me…’ I hear the crack of emotion in her inflection. ‘… Shehasto be stopped, Dan, before she destroys another living soul.’
‘How did Tilly get your email address, Erin? Did you think to ask her, maybe?’
‘Ha!’ She snorts softly. ‘You’re the detective, Detective. The message was sent to a very old account. One I’d forgotten I even had. I’m sure, after your TV appearance yesterday, it probably wasn’t that hard to find. You threw me under the bus, Dan. You went public with my identity, told everyone about my conviction’ – her voice drops behind her teeth – ‘and you showed everyone thathideousphotograph of me.Why’d ya do it, Dan?’ Suddenly, she switches into this strange, southern US accent, which is a little unexpected – and freaky. ‘Why’d ya have ta tell all, ta y’all?I’ve been practising,’ she explains.
‘Practising what?’
