Wednesday, 3.30pm
"Mrs. Peterson?"
The door had opened to reveal a woman of fragile appearance with short dark hair. She blinked, confusion evident on her face at the presence of the strangers on her doorstep.
"Yes?" She answered, slowly. "Can I help you?"
Boyd reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his warrant card. "I'm Detective Superintendent Boyd from the Cold Case Squad of the Metropolitan Police." He gestured towards Grace, who smiled reassuringly towards the woman. "This is my colleague, Doctor Grace Foley."
"What? I...I don't understand." The perplexed frown had deepened on her forehead, creasing her delicate features.
"You are Susan Peterson?" Boyd asked, needing confirmation before continuing.
"Yes..."
"Formerly Susan Hammersmith?"
"I...I don't know, I...have memory problems." Her voice was trembling slightly.
Grace took a small step forwards. "It's all right, Mrs. Peterson. We've just come to ask you a few questions about a case we're working on."
"It's about your sister." Boyd added.
Susan shook her head firmly. "I don't have a sister. I think you must have the wrong person."
She closed the front door suddenly, leaving Grace and Boyd standing, bemused, on the doorstep. Boyd raised his eyebrows. "Well, that was a good start."
"You are sure we've got the right house, Boyd?" Grace asked, frowning.
"I'm sure, Grace. She said her name was Susan Peterson, didn't she?"
"And you're certain she used to be Susan Hammersmith?"
Boyd's expression was scathing. "Look, I trust Mel, don't you? I'm pretty sure she knows how to do background research by now."
Grace sighed. "Yeah."
"So, what was that all about, then? Claiming she doesn't have a sister?"
Grace paused thoughtfully before replying. "She said she has memory problems, right?"
"Yeah..."
"Well, what if she just can't remember having a sister? It's possible that the trauma of what happened to them caused her memories to become buried deep within her subconscious."
Boyd looked sceptical. "Hmm..."
"It happens, Boyd. I've seen it myself."
"All right, so what do we do, then?"
Grace knocked on the front door as she spoke. "If at first you don't succeed..."
"Give up and go to the pub?"
She smiled at his quip as the door opened once more. Susan Peterson appeared before them, sighing at their persistence in front of her house. "I told you, you've got the wrong person, Superintendent."
Boyd shook his head. "I don't think so, Mrs. Peterson. If we could just ask you a few questions, I'm sure we can get this cleared up."
"I don't know what more I can say. I don't have a sister so there's nothing to discuss."
"Please, Mrs. Peterson." Grace's voice was soft. "We just want to talk to you. You're not in any sort of trouble."
Susan glanced between the faces of her visitors, sensing their sincerity, feeling herself beginning to relent. "Let me see your IDs again." She said.
Boyd and Grace obliged and she studied the cards for several moments before speaking again. "All right. Just for a few minutes, then."
She opened the door wider, gesturing for them to step inside and follow her down the corridor towards the lounge.
Wednesday, 3.45pm
Mel leant back in her chair, rubbing a hand across her face and pushing strands of golden hair from her tired eyes. She glanced at the clock, groaning as she registered the time. Not nearly the end of the day and already I want to go home... Researching background information could sometimes be brain-numbingly tedious although, Mel knew, it was an essential part of the job. She looked up then at the sound of the door being pushed open and she smiled as Spence's form emerged into the office, carrying a cardboard tray complete with three large cups of coffee.
"Thanks, Spence." She said as she gratefully accepted one of the tall containers.
Spence held up a finger before reaching into his jacket pocket and retrieving a packet of chocolate digestives. "Now you can thank me." He said, grinning.
Mel returned his smile as she reached for the biscuits. "You're a God-send."
"Ah, you've finally realised it. It's only taken you, what, four years?"
"Better late than never, eh?"
She picked up the phone next to her then and dialled Frankie's number, informing her of the arrival of their essential supplies. The forensic scientist appeared moments later, sinking into a chair beside Mel and taking possession of a coffee.
"So, come on then, Frankie." Spence opened.
Frankie frowned. "Come on, what?"
He gestured at the snacks littering the desks. "Well, Mel said I was a God-send. How're you gonna top that?"
She grinned widely, prising a biscuit from the packet. "Ooh, I dunno. Can you top 'God-send'?"
"I'm sure you can think of something."
"Sorry, Spence. My brain's worn out."
Mel groaned sympathetically. "I know the feeling."
Spence took a gulp from his coffee cup. "How d'you think Boyd and Grace are getting on?"
Mel shrugged. "Depends whether he lets Grace get a word in edgeways, doesn't it."
Frankie grinned. "I think Grace can hold her own where Boyd's concerned, don't you?"
"True enough." said Mel, smiling.
"Well, I hope she manages to get something out of Susan Peterson. She's the only real lead we've got." Spence said, licking melted chocolate from his fingers.
There was a brief silence in the room then, each alone with their thoughts as they sipped their drinks. Eventually, Frankie spoke again, thoughtfully. "Can I ask you two something?" She said.
"Fire away." Spence said. "As long as it's not 'what exactly did you get up to on that stag weekend?'"
Frankie smiled. "I wouldn't dream of asking that."
"Well, what then?"
"Well, is it my imagination or...Well, Boyd and Grace..."
Spence frowned, unsure of the question his colleague was posing. "What about them?"
"Don't you think there's like...an atmosphere between them lately?"
"What are you talking about, Frankie?" Spence's face was creased in confusion.
Frankie shrugged. "I don't know, really. It's just something I've started to notice in the way they interact. Different to how they act around the rest of us."
"They've always been like that, haven't they?" He asked. "I mean, they're contemporaries, aside from the fact he's not her boss in the same way as he is ours."
Frankie shook her head, displacing short strands of dark hair from the clips that held it back from her face. "It's more than that, Spence. I just can't quite put my finger on it."
Mel, who had thus far remained silent, took a breath to speak. "Do you think they see each other? Outside of work, I mean."
Frankie raised an eyebrow. "You mean, are they seeing each other?"
Spence gave a short laugh, looking incredulously between his two colleagues. "You've got to be joking!" He exclaimed, loudly.
Mel frowned at him. "Why? Is it such a ridiculous idea?"
"Come on, Grace and Boyd?! Don't you think she could do better?"
She shrugged. "It's her decision, isn't it?"
Spence turned to Frankie. "Do you think this stuff as well? Or is it just a blond thing?"
He grinned mischievously at Mel, who had thrown a biscuit at his head. Frankie took a slow sip from her drink before replying. "Would it be such a bad thing, Spence? They've both had difficult lives, what's wrong with them having a bit of happiness?"
"Nothing." He replied, brushing crumbs from his clothes and still smiling at Mel's glare. "I just doubt they've found it with each other, that's all. They're way too different."
"What's that age-old adage about opposites, again?" Mel quipped, sarcastically, her bright blue eyes twinkling.
"Oh, that's bollocks." He said. "You've got to be at least a bit similar for it to work. Grace and Boyd are polar opposites."
Frankie shook her head. "Not opposites. It's more like she's...his counter-balance, Spence."
Mel sat forward, her body language displaying her enthusiasm. "Exactly, Frankie. That's exactly what she is."
"And whether or not they're seeing each other, the bottom line is, he needs her. Whatever he might think or say."
Spence let out his breath and looked once more between the two women. "You two have thought about this way too much."
Frankie exchanged grins with Mel. "Women's prerogative, Spence."
He shook his dark head, collecting up the debris from their break and walking towards the bin on the other side of the room. "I still think you're wrong." He called over his shoulder.
"Well, why don't you let us do the thinking and you stick to buying the coffee and biscuits?" Frankie retorted playfully as she began to retreat back in the direction of the lab.
"After all, you do it so well." Mel added, laughing.
"Women." Spence muttered under his breath as he strolled back towards his desk and his mountain of paperwork.
Wednesday, 4pm
"So, what did you want to ask me?"
Susan Peterson had led Boyd and Grace into a large living room decorated in neutral, earthy tones, and gestured for them to take a seat on the plush cream sofa, which stood against the far wall. Grace took a breath to reply, silently imploring Boyd to keep to his word about allowing her to lead the interview.
"Well, first of all, I wanted to explain to you a bit about what we do in our work." She said, ignoring Boyd's raised eyebrow at the oblique nature of her response.
Susan frowned. "How does your work affect me?"
"We work on what's called 'cold cases', meaning cases which, up till now, haven't been solved. Sometimes, we get a request for a certain case to be re-opened or new evidence is discovered and then we try our best to bring it to a conclusion."
"I still don't see how...I mean, how can one of these 'cold cases' be anything to do with me?"
"Last Thursday, a child's skeleton was discovered in a back garden of a house in London." Boyd said, gently. "Our tests revealed its identity as Mary Hammersmith, a little girl who went missing in November 1964."
A look of realisation passed over Susan's face and her eyes widened. "Hammersmith...when you came here, you asked me if that used to be my name, didn't you?"
Grace nodded. "Mary Hammersmith went missing, along with her twin sister. Her name was Susan."
"And you think...that's me?" Susan asked, her voice almost a whisper, her skin suddenly pale.
"From the research we've done," Boyd said, "yes, we do."
"But, I...surely I'd remember if I had a twin! And wouldn't I know who killed her if this is all true?" She took a strangled breath, her agitation evident as she spoke.
Grace held up her hands, a placating gesture. "Not necessarily, Susan. It's possible that what happened to you was so terrible that your mind is hiding it from you, to protect itself."
"Is that possible?"
"Absolutely. It's called 'repression' and it's an incredibly common psychological condition."
"It just doesn't seem…How could I forget my own sister? My twin sister, at that?" Her voice had taken on tones of distress as she spoke.
Grace gave her a small smile. "Why don't you tell us what your earliest memory is, Susan?"
Susan frowned, concentration apparent in her expression. "I was a teenager, living here with my boyfriend…"
"Is this Barry, whose now your husband?"
The younger woman nodded. "He says I was sixteen when we first got together so I suppose that's probably as far back as I can remember."
"You don't have any recollection from before that? Any memories of your parents, for example?"
"No." She said, quietly. "Nothing at all."
Grace paused briefly, searching Susan's face, her body language, for any hint of deception. Satisfied, she nodded. "Okay, Susan. Can you tell us how you and Barry met?"
Susan smiled. "He rescued me. I was living on the streets and he brought me to live with him here."
"You remember that?"
"Well…, no, but he's told me how it happened. Without him, who knows what my life might have been like."
Grace nodded, her eyes flickering briefly to Boyd, trying to gauge his reaction to Susan's words. "So, what would you say your first memory is?"
"Erm…a birthday party, I suppose it would've been my sixteenth."
"And it was here?"
"Yeah. I remember a huge chocolate cake with pink candles…" She smiled wistfully at the memory.
"And how's your memory of everything after that point?" Grace asked.
"Fine." Susan replied. "It just seems to be my early memories I have trouble with."
"So, everything's clear in your mind from your sixteenth birthday party, up until now?"
"Yes, perfectly."
Grace continued. "Tell us about your wedding."
Susan gave a small smile. "It was a lovely day, all things considered."
"How do you mean, Susan?"
"Well, I…I wasn't too keen to get married, to start with, I mean I was only eighteen but Barry…well, he insisted. Because of the baby and everything."
Boyd spoke up. "Would you say he forced you to get married, then?"
Susan shook her dark head vehemently. "No, not at all. He would never have forced me. I suppose you could say he talked me into it." She smiled. "And it took him a while, Superintendant, we didn't get married until I was seven months pregnant with Louise."
"Does Louise still live here, Susan?" Grace asked.
"Oh no, not for years now. She moved out when she was seventeen."
"Any particular reason?"
Susan sighed heavily. "She never really got on with her father."
Boyd's interest was suddenly piqued. "How so?"
She shrugged. "She just didn't. You know what it's like…teenage girl, relatively old father…"
"Relatively old?" Boyd repeated.
Susan nodded. "He was forty three when she was born."
"So, that makes him…twenty five years your senior, is that right?"
She shrugged once more, her slender shoulders rising and falling. "I suppose so. I've never really thought about it, it's never been an issue between us."
Boyd exchanged a surreptitious glance with Grace, wondering if she was thinking the same as he was. "We'll need to talk to your husband, Mrs. Peterson." He said.
Susan frowned, her defences rising. "Why?"
Grace took a breath, thinking fast. "Because we need to talk to everyone who's in any way connected to you or your sister." She said. "Especially your husband since he might be able to tell us something about the years after you went missing."
The younger woman's shoulders visibly relaxed at Grace's words. "Yeah. I suppose that's true."
"What time does he usually come home?" Boyd asked.
"He's away at the moment, Superintendent, on a job. Doing up some posh house down south."
"What is it that he does?" asked Grace.
"He's a builder and carpenter. Renovates old houses, that sort of thing."
"Is he self-employed?"
"Oh, yes. He's got his own company, has done for years." She said, smiling.
"What's the name of the company?" Boyd asked, sharply, interrupting Grace as she made to speak once more.
" 'Bricks and Mortar'..." Susan looked suddenly suspicious. "Look, what is this? Why the sudden interest in my husband?"
Grace held up her hands, hoping to calm the younger woman. "It's all right, Susan. It's just routine background information, that's all."
Her expression had darkened. "Well, it doesn't sound routine to me. It sounds like you suspect Barry of something."
"We're just being thorough." Grace said, reassuringly. "We're not accusing anybody of anything."
"Good. Because Barry hasn't done anything wrong."
"We still need to speak to him, Mrs. Peterson." Boyd said, taking a business card from his pocket and handing it to her. She examined it slowly, turning it over in her fingers.
"When are you expecting him back?" Grace asked.
"I'm not sure." Susan replied, cagily. "Sometime over the next few days."
"Will you call us when he arrives?" Boyd asked. "It really is important that we speak to him as soon as possible."
She sighed, getting to her feet, implying that her visitors should do the same. "Fine." She said, weariness in her voice. "Now, I've really got to get on, Superintendent."
"One other thing," Boyd said, standing simultaneously with Grace, "would you consent to us taking a DNA sample from you? It's just so we can verify your identity and confirm your relationship with Mary Hammersmith."
Susan's pallor visibly paled. "A blood sample?"
Grace smiled. "No, Susan, just a mouth swab. They don't let Policeman use needles on people, as a matter of course."
Susan laughed nervously as Boyd retrieved the sterile kit from his pocket and performed the procedure, lightly scraping the inside of her mouth. He thanked her as he and Grace began to follow her from the room.
Susan paused at the front door, her expression pained as she looked at Grace, her dark eyes reflecting her fragile emotional state. "Are my...are my parents still alive, Doctor Foley?"
Grace blinked, slightly surprised by the suddenness of the question. "Yes, they are."
Susan swallowed, trying desperately to regain control of the torrent of emotions across her chest. "Will you tell them about me? That you've found me?"
Grace's blue eyes were soft. "I think they'll want to know, Susan."
"I don't know...I don't remember them..."
"It's not too late for you to become re-acquainted with them, you know."
Susan gave her a watery smile. "I hope not."
Grace smiled back as she and Boyd stepped out onto the pavement, the door closing behind them. Neither spoke until they were seated in their car, Boyd exhaling deeply and letting his head fall back against the head-rest.
"We need to find the husband." He said, eventually.
Grace's body mirrored his unconsciously, her head angled towards his. "You think he's involved in all of this somehow?"
"Well, don't you?"
She sighed. "Yeah. I'm just not sure how. I still can't resolve the fact that Mary was killed and Susan was kidnapped."
"You don't think Barry Peterson just took more of a liking to Susan than to Mary?"
"I don't know, Boyd. I just don't think it's as simple as that."
"Well, whatever, we need to find him, Grace. And I'm not sure I trust Susan to contact us when he comes back."
"She's certainly very defensive of him. It's almost hero-worship in a way, she sees him as her saviour."
"Is that justified?"
"It might be. For all we know, he did rescue her from a life on the streets."
"I don't think you believe that any more than I do."
Grace smiled. "I'm keeping an open mind, Boyd."
"I'll ask you again when we've brought him in for questioning."
"How are you going to find him, then?"
Boyd pulled out his mobile phone, a grin spreading across his face. "That's where the kids come in."
Grace shook her head, trying to keep from smiling at him. "Don't you think they're doing enough digging at the moment?"
"Oh, they love it, Grace."
"You might try giving them enjoyable tasks every so often, you know. It's called motivation."
Boyd frowned, as if trying to recall something from memory. "Motivation? Nope, don't ever remember learning that word."
Grace batted his leg playfully and rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless."
His grin broadened. "They're good kids, Grace. They'll just get on with it, whether they like it or not, and then we can move on with this case."
She regarded him with her head on one side, her smile creasing her eyes. "You sound like a proud father."
"With you as the overly concerned mother?"
She laughed, warmth spreading across her chest. "God, I feel sorry for our kids."
"Oh, don't. They've got the best parents they could ask for."
Grace's mirth was infectious and it was several moments before either regained their composure. Eventually, Boyd's expression sobered as he used his mobile phone to dial the office.
