Liar Liar - [79]

Sharon thought about it, then said:

‘She doesn’t really have mates, she’s always been a bit of a loner, y’know.’

‘Where does she hang out, then?’ Helen repeated, insistent.

‘She goes to the library sometimes when it’s cold. Other than that she goes where she can get up to mischief. The pubs on Oakland Street, the Common, the skateboard park, the WestQuay centre, the parade…’

The list went on. Clearly Naomie wanted to be anywhere but home. Helen noted down the many locations down – intending to pass them on to the rest of the team at the earliest opportunity – but before she had finished Sanderson returned, clutching several different copies of the Southampton Evening News.

‘Found these in a plastic bag under her bed. A copy of this week’s editions which lead on the fires. There’s also cuttings from several of the national dailies about the attacks as well. I guess Naomie’s a bit more interested in these fires than she lets on.’

Helen was already on her feet and heading for the front door. At long last, they had a prime suspect.

109

‘Do you want to go public with this?’

Helen was on her phone, pacing back and forth outside Sharon Jackson’s house. Gardam was back at base, supervising the investigation into Naomie’s call history, digital footprint, police records, known associates and more. It was important they worked closely together on this one, so Helen had stepped outside and called him straight away.

‘I don’t think we have a choice,’ Helen replied. ‘It’s already gone lunchtime. If she’s planning another attack tonight, then we’ve only got a few hours to stop her. The eyes and ears of the public are our best resource at this point.’

‘Have we got a decent photo?’

‘I’m sending one through to you now. If we can line up media liaison, so they’re ready to go public with it immediately -’

‘I’ve got McAndrew drafting a press release now.’

‘Good.’

Helen took a breath. The last couple of hours seemed to have passed in a flash and she suddenly felt tired.

‘How sure are you? That it’s her.’

‘She’s our best bet. She has deliberately inserted herself into the investigation on three separate occasions. Two phone calls, plus a positive ID after the second fire, which succeeded in sending us off on a wild goose chase with Richard Ford. She may not come across as capable of much, but she’s been instrumental in how this thing has played out. I think there’s a lot more going on under the surface than we give her credit for.’

‘Ok, let’s do it then and see if we can bring her in before nightfall.’

Helen rang off and, gathering herself, marched back towards Sharon Jackson’s house. Finally, the net was closing.

110

‘Twenty Marlboro Gold, please.’

The Asian guy behind the counter barely looked up from his newspaper. Reaching behind him, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the shelves behind him and tossed them on to the counter.

‘Nine pounds fifty.’

It was daylight robbery, but that was hardly the point. The shopkeeper took the ten-pound note, handed over the change and resumed reading the cricket reports. It was all so easy – no suspicions, no interest, nothing. Just a simple exchange, so ordinary in its execution, but presaging so much.

Turning to leave, the hooded figure suddenly stopped. The yawning shopkeeper continued to turn the pages, blissfully unaware of who he’d just come into contact with. But the TV on the wall behind him was better informed.

Breaking News: Police name suspect in Southampton arson attack.

The caption was brief and to the point, but it was what was beneath that was more alarming. An extreme close-up of a family snap in which all Naomie’s imperfections – as well as her crooked smile – were revealed in perfect definition. Turning quickly, the figure fled, before the owner even looked up.

111

All was quiet in Mandy Blayne’s house, except for the TV news, which played quietly in the living room. Naomie Jackson’s face stared out from the screen, but looked on to an empty room. Mandy Blayne had briefly vacated the sofa to make herself a much needed cup of tea.

As she stared out of the window into the scrubby garden, Mandy could feel her mood edging ever lower. She had made the call to the doctor’s surgery and booked an appointment for next week, but even now she wondered if she would actually go. She had to get rid of this baby, obviously. What would she do with it? How would she support it? And yet suddenly the thought of disposing of it so casually filled her with sadness and doubt. What if this was her only chance of having a baby? What if she never found someone to be with and ended up alone? She didn’t want either outcome and the choice made her miserable. Why did her life always seem to end up in no-win situations?

She poured the boiling water into the cup and grabbed the milk from the fridge. She had bought value teabags to save a few pennies, but it had been a mistake. They were weak and the resulting tea was bland and milky. Another small disappointment to add to her larger reversals. Odd to think though that there was a small thing inside her that would feed off the food and drink she took in tonight. Strange to imagine that it was already dependent on her. It was getting dark outside now, but she could still make out the small strip of grass, bordered by neat beds, and for a moment had a vision of a small child playing outside. Hands covered in sand, face sticky with dirt, a broad smile on its face. Like she had been, when she was a child. An outdoors kid never happier than when dirty and pleasantly exhausted. Mandy found herself smiling at the thought. It would be crazy to keep the baby, wouldn’t it?