Page 122
“You get a call, a text. And those doors open big and wide. And if you walk through, you get the money. Nice hotels. Gifts sometimes. Maybe somewhere decent to stay if they like you enough. They make you feel looked after. Like you’ve finally got somewhere you belong.”
“And the price?”
Brodie looked at him. “You stop getting to say no.”
Harrison inhaled sharply. That moved the investigation more than anything else so far. It wasn’t random. Nor decorative. It was a system. Built on trust. And it sounded a lot like Lauren Pike hadn’t done what she was told.
Harrison kept his voice calm. “Can you give me any names?”
“If I knew names, detective, I wouldn’t be telling them to you when she turned up dead a mile away from here, would I?”
“You’re frightened of someone.”
Brodie scoffed and folded his arms, walls climbing back into place. “You should be frightened too.”
“Why?”
“Cause you’re asking questions people don’t like.”
“It’s my job.”
“And maybe she should’ve done hers.” Brodie’s voice hardened suddenly. “Would’ve saved her life. Saved you turning up here asking questions no one should be asking.”
Harrison went quiet again. Not because Brodie sounded threatening. Because he sounded resigned. As if Lauren Pike’s death had felt inevitable to him from the moment Harrison mentioned the tattoo.
Harrison studied him. “Are you still involved?”
Brodie’s expression closed.
“Do you still get contacted?”
“I think you should leave now.”
Harrison didn’t move. “You don’t have to give me names.”
“Good, ’cause I ain’t got any.”
“Then give me something else. A location. A number. How you were contacted. Who collected you. How you were paid.”
Brodie stared at him.
“Did you ever attend one of these parties with Lauren?”
“I never met her.”
“Were you taken to the locations?” Harrison asked eventually. “Driven?”
“I said leave.”
“Were the locations always different?”
“Jesus fucking Christ. What part of leave are you struggling with?”
That wasn’t anger alone. That was fear. Whatever opening Harrison had found was closing rapidly, and forcing it now wasn’t going to get him anything useful. Brodie wasn’t a suspect under caution. He was a frightened potential witness standing in his own flat, and Harrison needed him to believe there was still a route back to this conversation if he ever decided to take it.
Harrison reached inside his jacket instead. “Alright.” He took out his card and set it on the coffee table. “If you remember anything else, if someone contacts you, or if you decide you want to talk, you ring me directly. No uniforms turning up here. No formal statement unless and until you’re ready to give one.”
Brodie’s gaze dropped to the card but he didn’t touch it.