‘Good thinking.’
‘I think I should see if I can talk to DCI Nolan too; he’s retired now. Oh, I also tried to get in contact with some family members of the victims,’ she said, running her pen down those items in the list. ‘I thought I found an email address for Bethany Ingham’s dad, but the email bounced. I did find an Instagram profile for Julia Hunter’s sister, Harriet – you know, the one who mentioned the pigeons. It looks like she hasn’t posted in months,’ she said, opening up Instagram on her phone to show him. ‘Maybe she doesn’t go on it any more. But I sent her a dm just in c—’
Pip’s eyes stalled, caught on the red notification that had just popped up above the messages tab.
‘Oh shit,’ she hissed, clicking on it, ‘she’s just replied. Harriet Hunter’s just replied!’
Ravi was already up on his feet, his hands finding their way to her shoulders. ‘What did she say?’ His breath tickled the back of her neck.
Pip scanned the message quickly, her eyes so tired, so dried out, she thought they might creak in their sockets. ‘She… she says she can meet with me. Tomorrow.’
Pip felt herself smiling before she could help it. Luckily Ravi was behind her and couldn’t see; he would frown at her, tell her this wasn’t a time for celebrating. But it felt like it, in a way. It was another win for her. Save herself to save herself.
Your move, DT.
That must have been her, walking through the café door now, her head unsure upon her shoulders, swivelling this way and that.
Pip held up one hand and waved to her.
Harriet’s face broke into a relieved smile as she spotted the raised hand and followed it to Pip’s eyes. Pip watched her as she wound her way politely through all the tables and people rammed into this small Starbucks, round the corner from Amersham station. She couldn’t help but notice how much Harriet looked like Julia Hunter had, before the DT Killer stole her face and wrapped it up in tape. The same dark blonde hair and full, arching eyebrows. Why was it that sisters looked so much alike when one of them was dead? Andie and Becca Bell. Now Julia and Harriet Hunter. Two younger sisters, carrying around a ghost wherever they went.
Pip untangled herself from her laptop charger to stand as Harriet approached.
‘Hi, Harriet,’ she said, offering out her hand awkwardly.
Harriet smiled, shaking Pip’s hand, her skin cold from outside. ‘I see you’re already set up.’ She pointed down at Pip’s laptop, trailing wires connecting it to the two microphones, Pip’s headphones already cradled around her neck.
‘Yes, it should be quiet enough here in the back corner,’ Pip said, retaking her seat. ‘Thank you so much for meeting me on such short notice. Oh, I got you an Americano.’ She gestured to the steaming mug across the table.
‘Thank you,’ Harriet said, shedding her long coat and taking the chair opposite. ‘I’m on my lunch break so we have about an hour.’ She smiled, but it didn’t quite lift into her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching anxiously. ‘Oh,’ she said suddenly, digging around for something in her handbag. ‘I signed that consent form you sent.’ She passed it over.
‘That’s great, thank you,’ Pip said, slotting it into her rucksack. ‘Could I actually just check the levels?’ She slid one of the microphones closer to Harriet, and then held one of the cradles of her headphones against her own ear. ‘Can you say something? Just talk normally.’
‘Yes… um, hello my name is Harriet Hunter and I’m twenty-four years old. Is that…？’
‘Perfect,’ Pip said, watching the blue lines spike on her audio software.
‘So, you said you wanted to talk about Julia, and the DT Killer. Is this for another season of your podcast?’ Harriet asked, her fingers twisting the ends of her hair.
‘I’m just doing some background research at this stage,’ Pip said. ‘But, yes, potentially.’ And making sure she collected concrete evidence, if Harriet happened to give her DT’s name.
‘Oh right, of course,’ she sniffed. ‘It’s just, you know, with the other two seasons of your podcast, the cases were ongoing, or closed, but with this… with Julia, we know who did it and he’s in prison, facing justice. So, I guess I’m just not sure what your podcast would be about?’ Her voice trailed up, turning the sentence into a question.
‘I don’t think the story has ever been told in full,’ Pip said, skirting around the reason.