I know he’s baiting me. I bite my tongue.
‘I also hear that you stole someone’s identity and catfished women on a dating app.’
Cyrus tries to interrupt, but Hoyle isn’t finished.
‘Is it true you’re a pathological liar?’
‘Is it true you’re an arsehole?’ I reply.
Hoyle smiles.
‘Can we get back to Daniela?’ says Lenny, who has been quiet up until now. ‘Look at the timeline. Foley wasn’t arrested until Monday.’
Hoyle seems to chew over the details, reluctant to decide. ‘Contact the rideshare company. See who picked her up and where he dropped her off.’
‘What about the task force?’
‘I’m not committing resources until I’m sure that she’s missing.’
Cyrus interrupts. ‘Maya Kirk was alive for two days before she was killed. What if Daniela is in the same place?’
‘If she is, we’ll find her, but right now, you don’t have enough.’
‘You want to see her body?’
Hoyle’s top lip curls and his face reddens. He takes a deep breath. Maybe he’s silently counting down from ten, or repeating some mantra in his head. That’s what Cyrus does when he’s angry.
‘You know the problem with psychologists,’ says Hoyle. ‘They always assume they’re the smartest person in every room when they’re not even the smartest in their own family. How is your brother? Poorly, I hope.’
Hoyle gets to his feet and strides down the corridor, his loose-fitting boating shoes flapping against his heels. The silence he leaves behind is like a smell.
‘Who put a chainsaw up his arse?’ I ask, earning a look from Cyrus. ‘What? The guy is a muppet.’
Lenny tries to stop herself smiling. ‘I won’t criticise Hoyle for wanting more evidence.’
She picks up a spray bottle, aiming the nozzle at the leaves of an African violet on the window sill.
‘Tell me, Evie, what did DCI Hoyle mean when he said you approached a sexual assault victim?’
I glance at Cyrus. He holds a finger to his lips, wanting me to be quiet. He answers.
‘Do you remember a case a few years ago – the sexual assault of a nurse in Portland Road? Her neighbour was convicted – Mitchell Coates.’
Lenny pauses, bottle in hand. Her mouth opens in surprise. ‘She had her hair cut off.’
‘Same as Maya Kirk,’ says Cyrus. ‘The rope bindings, the hacked hair.’
‘Where is Coates now?’ asks Lenny.
‘He was released on parole in late October. Now he’s back in prison.’
‘When?’
‘Monday.’
‘Shit!’
‘Mitch is innocent!’ I blurt, ignoring my promise to Cyrus. ‘He’s done nothing wrong.’
Lenny ignores me. ‘You should have told Hoyle.’
‘Forensics are comparing the rope used to bind Lilah Hooper with the rope found around Maya Kirk’s wrists. That could establish a link between the two cases.’
‘And put Mitchell Coates in the frame.’
What is Cyrus doing? He’s making things worse.
‘Did you ever have doubts about the Lilah Hooper case?’ he asks.
‘No.’
‘She didn’t see her attacker’s face or hear his voice.’
‘His DNA was all over her flat.’
‘Because he looked after her dog, and he found her the next morning. He called the police. He gave a statement. He provided samples.’
‘Because it made him look innocent.’
‘Or he was innocent.’
The statement hangs in the air between them.
‘Hoyle ran that investigation,’ says Cyrus. ‘He should have seen the similarities between the attack on Lilah Hooper and the murder of Maya Kirk – the hacked hair, the ropes … He didn’t say anything.’
‘The offences are eight years apart.’
‘Even so, don’t you think it’s odd?’
‘No. You’re suggesting that a senior police officer withheld information, or deliberately misled an investigation.’
‘I’m suggesting that Hoyle made a mistake.’
‘A jury took less than twenty minutes to convict Coates.’
‘And juries never get it wrong.’
The comment lights a fire in Lenny, who swallows her first attempt at a reply.
‘Go home, Cyrus. We start again tomorrow.’
43
Cyrus
I wake before dawn with a warm body next to me. Evie’s hair has fallen across her eyes and her lower lip trembles as she breathes. I don’t remember her coming into my room and crawling into bed.
I try to move without waking her, but her eyes open.
‘You can’t keep doing this, Evie.’
‘You were having a nightmare.’
‘What?’
‘Last night. I heard you moaning. I was going to wake you, but I couldn’t remember if you’re supposed to wake people or not.’
‘That’s sleepwalking.’
‘Oh, yeah. Well, you were moaning in your sleep.’
‘Are you making this up?’
‘No.’
‘Well, you shouldn’t get into bed with me. We’re friends, that’s all.’
‘Friends can share a bed. You’re dressed. I’m dressed. Nothing happened.’
‘Yes, but you shouldn’t tempt people.’
She half sits up. ‘Were you tempted?’
‘No! Definitely not!’
‘Why? Am I that disgusting?’
‘That’s not what I mean. But there’s an age difference and a power imbalance and I don’t want Elias thinking we’re sleeping together.’
‘What power imbalance? You’re not my guardian, or my therapist, or my boss. You told Elias I was your lodger.’
‘It’s not up for discussion, Evie. Stay in your own bed.’
‘Even when you have a nightmare?’
‘Yes.’
My phone is buzzing on the side table. I reach for it. Fumbling. Answering.
Lenny in my ear. ‘The rideshare service says Daniela Linares was a no-show.’
‘But Evie put her in the car.’
‘The driver turned up outside the bar, but nobody was waiting. He called Daniela’s number and she didn’t answer.’
Swinging my legs to the floor, I sit with my back to Evie, who rolls into the warm spot.
‘Where was Foley?’ I ask.
‘Playing poker with his mates.’
‘How solid is his alibi?’
‘Pictures were posted on Instagram.’
‘Someone else picked up Daniela. He knew her name.’
‘Hoyle is talking about an accomplice,’ says Lenny.
‘It doesn’t feel like two people,’ I say, but logistically it might make more sense. Someone spiked Daniela’s drink and took her mobile phone. A second person could have been waiting outside to pick her up or follow her home.
‘We’re looking at Foley’s search history and social media feeds. He might have met someone in an online chatroom or forum,’ says Lenny. ‘Where was Mitchell Coates?’
I try to remember what Mitch told me. His landlady kicked him out of the boarding house. He was sleeping at a homeless shelter or on the streets. Either way, it makes him a suspect.