“Do you have a record of who took the statement?”
“I wasn’t here for them. The break-in happened early hours of the morning and I didn’t get here until ten. By then, they had already taken notes of what she saw. To be honest, I don’t think they took her seriously, from what she told me. I think she kept getting the events of the night muddled and was changing her footsteps of what lead up to what she saw. The only thing that didn’t change was what she witnessed.”
“What about the second statement?”
“She didn’t really want to talk about it to me. It was actually Joyce, her carer, who mentioned there was a second one. She didn’t like the vibe she got from the officer or my nan’s behaviour after he left. She seemed skittish and withdrawn.”
This is the information. This is what Christina had been looking into.
I don’t want to scare Beth, but I can’t leave without asking. “Are you sure it was a police officer?”
“I asked the same thing. Joyce said he was in full uniform.”
“What company does Joyce work for? Do you know if Christina asked for her details?”
“I only got the end of the conversation between the two, so not that I know of. She did speak like the officer and the guy from the alley were the same person, but like I said, I missed half of what was said. From what I read, though, they didn’t catch who broke in, so that can’t be true.”
She really has no clue. I need proof, but if I were to guess, it was an officer in that alley, and that it was the guy who attacked Mrs Sutherland. It makes sense as to why Rita’s statement went missing. I just need proof of his involvement. He could be protecting a family member.
“Here you go,” Charlotte announces, walking into the room and passing us each a mug of tea.
“Thank you,” Beth tells her, before looking at me. “Do you think it was the same person? Was she right and someone scared my nan that bad it caused her to have a heart attack?”
I glance at Charlotte, who’s distracted by the piles of pictures. “I really can’t answer that, but I know someone who can find out the answer. You can trust him too. He’s marrying my cousin and completely trustworthy.”
“Please,” she pleads, tears slipping free. “I just need answers, but a part of me is wondering if that’s to satisfy my own failings. I should have tried harder to find a job closer to her.”
“You can’t take on that guilt. I’ll do what I can. I promise.”
“Thank you.”
“Would you like us to stay and help you? We know from experience how hard this is and it seems your nan was a hoarder like ours. You shouldn’t be doing this alone,” Charlotte offers, giving her a gentle smile.
“You don’t need to do that,” Beth informs us, her expression crumbling.
“She’s right, you shouldn’t be doing this alone.”
She nods, wiping away her tears. “Thank you. It’s been Nan and I for so long. I did try to reach out to friends, but they’re all busy with work.”
My phone begins to ring, and I groan at the inappropriate timing.
“Give me two minutes and I’ll gladly help you. I just need to answer this.”
I quickly rush to answer, getting up from the chair and heading outside as Charlotte begins to chat to her.
“Hello?”
“We’ll talk about you ignoring me all night after you tell me why you are calling the local paper and hounding them about a reporter that was killed,” Clayton grits out.
I should put the phone down and pretend my battery died. But I don’t. I hate that my stomach swirls at the sound of his voice.
“None of your business.”
“Well, you see, it is. You work for me, and looking into dangerous stories is not part of your job description,” he bites out, his voice harder.
“What I do in my spare time is none of your concern.”
“This is about the break-ins, isn’t it? I told you not to look into that story, Hayden. It’s dangerous. A woman was kidnapped and killed. What are you thinking, risking your life for a story we won’t even publish?”
My back straightens, and I grit my teeth to the point my jaw hurts.
“Who said it was for your company?”
“What else would it be for?” he snaps.
“For my blog.”
“Your blog?”
“Yes.”
“You have a blog?” he asks, not sounding convinced.
“I will. I have my cousin’s girlfriend building me a website.”
I don’t, but I will. It’s something I want to do and no man or job will stop me.
“This is absurd. Do you have any idea of the danger you’re putting yourself in? You’ll stop looking into this right away, Hayden, or so help me God, I will—”
“You’ll do nothing because you don’t own me,” I tell him, raising my voice a little. I’m fuming. I don’t get mad, I get even, so Clayton getting a rise out of me only makes me madder.
“Hayden, I’m not kidding with you right now. This isn’t your job. Your job is to give advice and answer questions, not risk your life doing a cop’s work. Put an end to this. I’m not having you bring bad press to this company because you were idiotic. And I won’t have you using my company’s name to open doors for people to feed this hobby you have.”
Yet again, he proves what a prick he is. How dare he squelch my dreams like they mean nothing. How dare he categorise it as a hobby.
“Now we’ve got that cleared up, we need to talk about last night,” he tells me, his voice lowering.
“Clayton?”
“Yes.”
“Respectfully, fuck off. I’m the kind of person who will put you in my boot and help the police look for your body. Don’t piss me off.”
I end the call, silencing it when it begins to ring again.
Charlotte steps out, glancing behind her before speaking, lowering her voice. “I can totally understand why they didn’t tell Rita’s dad now. He’s ancient. Mrs Jones was eighty-five when she passed.”
I need a drink.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Avoiding Clayton had gone successfully all week, up until this point. Now, the man is sat opposite me, waiting rather impatiently while I quickly answer another call. Trying to ignore him is impossible. If he sighs one more time he’s going to get a microphone shoved down his throat. And he’s looking at me like I just keyed his car. If anyone has a right to be pissed here, it’s me, not him.
I guess after ignoring his calls and dodging him at work, he’s finally reached his limit and feels like he has the right to be pissed.
It doesn’t change anything.
I don’t need him to sit me down and tell me all the reasons why he shouldn’t have kissed me. If he does, I’ll give him a list of ways in which I’ll get revenge.
He’s waiting for me to finish up, but that isn’t happening as I press for another call.
“Hello, Russ, what can we help you with today?” I ask, focusing on the sheet in front of me and not Clayton, who has begun to twirl his fist in a circle, silently telling me to wind this up.