better than to get involved in Adrian’s complicated relationship with the mother of his son.
‘I had space and ended up having a baby at sixteen years old; I want something better for my son.’
‘Don’t let him hear you say that.’
‘That’s not what I mean, and you know it. What are you doing tonight?’
‘Nothing,’ Imogen said, her eyes shifting to the floor. ‘Home alone, again. Elias has asked me to meet my brothers, but I don’t think I can do it.’
‘Not surprised. I can’t even imagine finding out I have siblings. Although it wouldn’t surprise me; my father put it about a bit.’
‘Talking of putting it about … look who it is!’ Imogen said.
Adrian looked up and saw Denise Ferguson standing with Caitlin Watts.
‘I can’t believe you just said that about a teenage witness.’ Adrian shook his head in fake disapproval.
‘I was talking about you,’ Imogen said.
‘Jealous?’ He winked at her.
Denise walked Caitlin over to the desk. Adrian sat on the edge of the table and directed her to his seat. Imogen noted the girl’s submissive vibe with Adrian, head tilted back, looking up at him with her animated eyes. Denise raised her eyebrows at the scene; Imogen was glad that she wasn’t the only one who noticed.
‘We only saw you a few hours ago. What is it?’ Adrian said.
‘You asked me if I knew anything about Doctor Norris.’
‘Oh, you do?’
‘I remembered after you left. A while back he was going out with one of his students. A girl. I don’t know who though.’
Caitlin was painting herself as some kind of damsel; Imogen would have to remind Adrian how they met her. She hadn’t been the victim of a crime. Imogen had met girls like her before, girls who flirted in a bizarrely subservient way, to play to the man’s sense of machismo. The whole idea of it disgusted Imogen.
‘How long ago was this relationship?’ Adrian asked.
‘A couple of months. Everyone suspected everyone at the time.’
‘Did anyone suspect you?’ Imogen asked, but Caitlin didn’t look at her. She wanted to laugh – it was so obvious what the girl was doing.
‘Although I do like older men, he wasn’t really my type.’ She licked her lips coyly, biting gently on the bottom one, and looked up slowly at Adrian again.
‘Jesus!’ Imogen said under her breath.
Adrian shot her a look and she realised she’d spoken aloud.
‘What else can you tell me about him?’ asked Adrian.
‘A few months ago, one of his students killed themselves.’
Now this was a fact they could check; the rest just felt like an excuse to get closer to Adrian – a mystery relationship, a rumour that couldn’t be proven or disproven.
‘Could it have been the one he was having an affair with?’
‘No, it was a boy. His name was Owen Sager; there’s a weird little memorial bench to him in town.’
‘Weird how?’
‘Well, you just associate memorial benches with old people, don’t you?’ Caitlin glanced at Imogen briefly, a tone in her voice that was slightly derisive.
‘How did he die?’ Adrian asked.
‘Hung himself in his parents’ garage.’
‘You seem to know a lot about him, were you close?’
‘No, they wrote about him in the college paper, a big bit on depression and how we should seek help if we’re feeling suicidal. He’s become the poster boy for exam stress. Which is stupid because he started in September. He was barely here three months before he hung himself – sorry, I mean hanged himself. I always get that mixed up. I brought the article for you.’ She pulled out a printed sheet of paper and handed it to Adrian.
He looked it over and put it on the desk. ‘Is there anything else?’
‘Not that I can think of right now. If I do, I’ll come and speak to you again.’
‘You do that,’ Imogen said.
‘I have something really embarrassing to ask you,’ Caitlin said to Adrian, continuing to ignore Imogen’s existence.
‘Shoot.’
‘I lost my bus pass and I need to get back home. I don’t suppose you could lend me money for a taxi?’
It took all of Imogen’s strength to stop herself from rolling her eyes.
‘I can get someone to drop you home if you want?’
Imogen folded her arms and looked at Adrian.
‘Could you do it? I’m a little weirded out by this murder. It’s probably someone I know, and it was so violent. Who does that to another person?’
And just like that, she was crying.
To Imogen’s amazement, Adrian picked his coat off the back of his chair. Whatever this girl was doing, it was working. She was a stunning-looking girl; the kind of girl Imogen might have stared at for long periods of time in school and wondered if maybe she wasn’t heterosexual after all. Her jet-black hair and big blue eyes, now watery and vulnerable, were a winning combination. Was it really this easy? Was every man just looking for a damsel in distress? A chance to be a hero?
‘I’ll see you later, Grey.’ He ushered Caitlin Watts towards the door and left with her.
Imogen couldn’t believe what she had just seen. Adrian had been the one who commented on the trustworthiness of the girl and now here she was, wrapping him around her little finger.
Imogen grabbed the article off Adrian’s desk and read through the piece that suggested the boy just couldn’t cope with university and had taken his own life. There was a quote from Hugh Norris, the dead professor. He had said Owen had a ‘bright and promising future’ in philosophy and that he was a ‘deep thinker’, which had probably added fuel to his depression. Imogen wondered if his depression was documented in his medical records. Seeing as she had lost her partner to the siren call of whatever the hell that was, she needed someone sensible to help her work through this new evidence; Gary Tunney, the district’s forensic computer analyst, could help her find out. There had to be a connection between Owen’s death and the Hugh Norris murder. Maybe someone thought Norris was responsible for Owen’s death. She needed to find out if Owen had bonded with anyone on his course – maybe a friend would be able to shed more light on what actually happened.
She started writing down questions, annoyed that she couldn’t just fire them at Adrian because he had already gone. He had been acting strange since he met DI Walsh. Or maybe it was because she had left without waking him up. Things were getting complicated between them and she knew that their current situation was unsustainable. She was going to have to put a stop to their sleepovers if it was going to make things awkward between them.
When Imogen got into work, Adrian was already sitting at the desk, reading the questions she had left the night before when he had taken Caitlin home. She could tell that he knew she was there; he was staring extra hard at the paper, as though he were afraid to look up. Was he feeling guilty about something? Had something happened? She had no right to judge him if it had, except maybe for the age difference, but, morally speaking, Imogen didn’t have a leg to stand on after her relationship with Dean. She hated not having the moral high ground.
‘Well?