Chapter Thirteen – Secrets Unravelled

AN: Remember those days when I used to be able to write a chapter a day? That was back before I worked in a school. Back then, I also didn't have two children sitting major school exams. So, sorry for the massive delay. It frustrates me as much as – maybe more than – you.

Later that night

In the office, Agatha Strong sipped at her instant coffee and winced at the taste.

"I've done a brief overview of the information you gave me, from Mimi." She told Derek down the phone line.

"Cool. And?" He closed the door to his bedroom so as to not wake the rest of the house.

Agatha nodded to herself. "Unlikely as it seems, the dates fit. Six years ago, Trent Sutton was in the right place at the right time, and the background info checks out too: Ambitious young lawyer, good-looking, old money; Political ambitions, pushy mother, suddenly got the philanthropy bug about eight years ago – on paper at least. I can't find anything to directly link him to Stuart, it's not like they were in high school together. But they knew of each other."

"Prep school, Kindergarten?"

"No but their parents played tennis together. I suspect it's something as simple as that."

"Me too. So, Trent was one of the acquaintances Stuart persuaded to throw charity events with Jessie's dancing group at the centre for entertainment purposes. Trent meets Sophie."

"And the rest is history. I think we have enough to speak to him, but it's late tonight. I would not be popular if I called Councillor Sutton at 1 am."

Derek chuckled. "Nope and you'd be on your own. Look, we all need a good night's sleep. Go home, get some rest. Jazz and I will be in mid-morning. See if you can get hold of Councillor Sutton first thing. Maybe we can get to see him tomorrow sometime. I'll also go back and have a chat with Stuart. I didn't get chance to raise Trent Sutton with him tonight."

"Will do. Night, Sergeant."

"Night." Derek hung up and looked thoughtfully at his phone.

"Was that Agatha?" Casey asked from the doorway. He hadn't even noticed her open the door or come in. Derek nodded and watch her cross the floor in her nightshirt. She was graceful, beautiful, flawless…but then to him, she always had been.

"Looks like Mimi could be telling the truth." He told her. "Dates and times match."

"But…"

Derek smiled wearily at her. "But it's the age-old problem."

Casey walked forward and perched on the end of his bed. "How to get someone in power to open up about their personal life." Derek nodded and sat back against his pillows.

"Especially, if their personal life included attempted murder and then murder. The trouble is, I don't know enough about the guy to make a judgement. I've had other things on my mind for the past six years, other than politics."

"Me, you mean." Casey guessed, fixing him with her perfect, blue eyes.

"Ego, much." Derek grinned at her.

Casey swung her legs up onto the bed and sat facing him. The movement and position felt natural, because as a teenager it was one of her most common study positions, yet if she had stopped to think about it, Casey would probably have decided it wasn't possible for someone with a metal hip. This was the difference between the Casey of this week and the Casey of last; the reason why she was making such substantial progress. She had stopped thinking, stopped worrying and learned to just act.

It was a fundamental shift, not just in her progress, but also in her character.

Derek was too tired to notice the specifics of why Casey's positioning was familiar or to identify the character shift, but subconsciously it held parallels to a time more than five years ago when she had also made a leap of faith. He gazed at her for a long moment, transported back to their time at college, and the many nights when they had talked – and studied - in similar circumstances. He remembered too, the nights later on when he had crossed the distance between them and…

"Hey, Beautiful. You did great tonight. But…Bed!" He let common sense break his train of thought, and he dropped his hand from where it had migrated to hers.

Casey looked up suddenly as if she had forgotten he was there, lost too in a distant memory. Derek held out his hand again to help her off the bed. She blushed and took the hand which helped her to stand up. He pulled her closer to him.

"Demanding, Derek…? Do I need to worry about my virtue?" She quipped as they stood beside his bed, both of them very aware how close they were.

Derek snorted and placed his hands on her hips. "You think I'd suggest that under our parents' roof?" his voice was low, private, even.

"No." She gazed at him thoughtfully. "What about when we're in our own apartment?"

Derek was silent for a moment, but then he raised his eyes to hers. Soft light, late night and a bubbling tension crying out for release.

"That would be a discussion for a later date." He told her. Casey smiled and there was a twinkle in her eyes that was unmistakable.

"Discussion?" She prompted, linking her fingers with his. "That would imply there were two points of view."

"Maybe there are." He suggested, but Casey could see the fun in his eyes, even as they both mentally withdrew their challenge. He led her by the hand back out into the corridor.

"Really?"

Derek paused by Casey's door and they grinned at each other. Casey was the grown up this time.

"I think it's late, we're still in our parents' home and you are right…this is something for another night." She commented, still with a warm smile on her lips. "But I suspect Mom is going to decide I need a lie-in, so she won't disturb me in the morning, and if we lock our bedroom doors, she won't know where you are sleeping. I haven't seen you for the past two nights. Chaste and uneventful or not, stay with me."

"I'll think about it while I'm brushing my teeth." Derek teased and turned to walk to his own room.

Later, as they lay in bed, 'chaste and uneventful', Casey stroked Derek's arms where they wound around her waist.

"I'm not going to see much of you for the next few days, am I?"

"Probably not. Now that we have some solid leads. I'll text you regularly though." Derek nuzzled the back of her neck. "When this is over, Casey. We need to talk."

Casey sighed and turned in his arms. "I know. It's just…I love where we are. What I've become…what we've become."

"You think I don't?"

"I didn't say that. But I'm sure you never moved this slowly with other girls - when we were young."

Derek sighed and rested his forehead against hers. "I didn't know what it felt like to lose someone you care about."

"I'm still here." Casey whispered.

Derek tightened his hold on her. "Now. But for so long you weren't. I sat in the corner of your hospital room and you were a complete stranger."

"I was in a coma!"

"And I was in a parallel universe. Or that's how it felt. I was in the world our parents had carefully crafted. Despite the progress between us over the years, the friendship we've developed, in their world I was – I still am - the step-brother." He paused. "Remember that…later."

The house was deserted when Casey emerged from her room the next morning. Derek had clearly left her bed and gone to work at some point, but she had slept through. George, Nora and Robbie had also gone on with their routine. It left the kitchen free for her breakfast and Casey pottered happily about adding fruit to cereal and making a cup of decaffeinated tea. She smiled to herself at the difference between this day and last week, how the sticks she used for balance were relegated to the hall cupboard and the contract with the personal alarm company had been ripped up. Then the house phone rang.

"Hi Casey, it's Stella Gibbons, Dr Wentworth's secretary."

Casey put her cup of tea down quickly and grabbed for her cell phone and its calendar, even as she spoke on the landline.

"Oh, hi Stella! Did you have any luck?" She asked excitedly. Dr Wentworth was one of the consultants who were monitoring her progress since she left hospital. Casey's improvement over the past week had left her wanting more independence. She wanted her driving permit back, but the authorities needed written confirmation from Casey's specialist. That meant Casey had to go and see the consultant. He was a busy man, but Stella had promised to try and find Casey an appointment as soon as possible.

The other side of Toronto, the secretary smiled at her enthusiasm.

"Well, I don't know if this will help, but one of this afternoon's patients has just cancelled. The appointment is with our new member of the team, but Dr Wentworth is happy for him to take a look at you and make a decision."

Casey glanced at her calendar. "What time?"

"Straight after lunch. 1.30pm."

"I'll be there."

"Looking forward to catching up." The secretary replied in a genuine tone.

Councillor Sutton's office was a stylish mix of expensive modern furniture in a classic 1960's setting. To reach it, Derek and Jazz had to skirt the main council chambers, and though both of them had had cause to visit the City Hall building before, this was the furthest into its depths they had been.

They were there by appointment. Agatha had managed to reach the councillor's secretary early in the working day and he had agreed for Derek and Jazz to see them at 11am.

"Detective Sergeant Derek Venturi and Detective Sergeant Jason Ransome." Jazz made the introductions, though they all shook hands. Derek's eyes ran over the two figures before him. The Councillor's Press Secretary, a short, rotund man in a suit straining at the seams, and the Councillor himself, who was tall, athletic looking and blond. Derek knew the guy was ten years his senior, but he didn't look it, and if he was indeed Sophie's secret lover, Derek could tell what had drawn them to each other – and it wasn't the plight of impoverished youngsters in the Toronto area.

Or at least, not on Trent Sutton's part. Trent was attractive even now, more than six years since the couple first met. And back then, Sophie had been younger, but no less beautiful.

No, their attraction had been all down to genetics.

"Please…have a seat." Trent Sutton indicated the space on the sofa across from him, an ill-disguised attempt to make this interview informal, Jazz decided. It was early enough in the investigation that Jazz was happy to humour him.

"Thank you for seeing us." Jazz continued to lead the interview. "I appreciate it may seem like a strange request to ask of a sitting councillor."

Derek ignored the placatory tone. He knew Jazz, he knew his colleague was just beginning. Instead he watched the Press Secretary, who had retired to a corner to perch in anticipation of needing to intervene. Derek could tell the man wasn't happy. He hadn't taken a seat, just leaned against a side cabinet, watching, listening.

"Anything for our city's finest." Sutton wasn't above being placatory too.

Jazz nodded in acknowledgement. "We are looking into the circumstances of a case with its origins centred several years ago and it appears you may have known a couple of the principals."

"Whatever I can do to help."

"I believe you know Stuart Lewis?" It was framed as a question but left no room for doubt. Councillor Sutton was thoughtful.

"You mean Alderman Lewis' nephew?" Sutton asked. Jazz nodded. "Yes. My parents and his belonged to the same lawn tennis club. For a while we had tennis lessons at similar times. Stuart is a little younger than myself, however, so I can't really say that we were friends. More sort of, nod at each other in passing."

"Understood." Jazz wrote in his notepad briefly. "Would you consider yourself a philanthropic man, Councillor?"

"Meaning?"

"Do you give regularly to charity?"

Sutton shrugged. "Of course. I sit on the board of several charities and my family's foundation includes several projects around the city."

"When did your charitable endeavours begin? Ten years ago? Five years?"

Thoughtfully, Sutton frowned. "Like I said, my family has been hands-on for a very long time, but I began to be involved about…oh, nearly seven years ago."

"Your first charity was a performing arts project, I believe. About seven years ago."

"That sounds about right." The fog cleared. "Oh…yes, now I see why you are asking about Stuart. Yes, you are correct. Stuart came to me and a group of others with an idea for an arts project. We worked on it together for a while. It would have been about seven years ago."

Derek sat forward. "This project involved fundraising events hosted by yourself and featuring the dance company Mr Lewis had become involved in?"

"Yes. Stuart had…was…involved with a man – a dancer – from the wrong side of the tracks who had dragged himself up and made a success of his life and his profession."

"That would be Jessie."

Sutton nodded. "Yes, that would be his name. I never knew his surname. Stuart liked what Jessie was doing for the young people in Toronto and wanted to help. He approached me and several other people in a wider circle and we all contributed." He shrugged. "You know how it is, people give more if they get something out of it, so we settled on model of high-class fundraisers. It was very successful for a while."

"And some of Jessie dance group attended?"

"On occasion. It doesn't really work if the room is full of rich old men with fat bank accounts. The dance company added glamour."

"And young females."

"Amongst others. Not all the old men were interested in the young girls."

Derek sat back. "And you? Who were you interested in?"

"I'm sorry, I don't follow."

Derek scratched at his neck. "Who did you meet at the parties?" There was an emphasis on the word "meet".

Trent Sutton frowned. "No one and I resent the implication." He turned slightly towards Jazz, as though indicating he preferred to be quizzed by anyone but Derek. The Press Secretary shifted his weight on his feet as if readying to pounce.

Jazz opened his notebook with a glance at Derek. It was just a glance to check they were both on the same page. "No implication, just clearing up some facts. We're going through the hearsay and rumour. You definitely attended these parties…because you were one of the organisers, but you don't recall connecting with anyone at these parties?"

"Definitely not. I was engaged…off the market." Sutton explained. Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Rumours about you and one of the dancers were just unfounded gossip?"

"Exactly."

Jazz was thoughtful. "Did your fiancée attend any of these events?"

Sutton shook his head. "Unfortunately, not – they wouldn't have seemed so tedious if she had. No, Morag was abroad for much of that time period. She studied art history at my alma mater and then took a year working for an auction house with offices in Paris."

Derek nodded. "The trials of young love when you are thousands of miles apart." He stood up and walked to the office window.

The councillor shrugged, watching Derek's progress. "We managed. I went out to Paris a few times, she came back home to me." He frowned. "What does this have to do with your case?"

Jazz ignored the question. "I guess money wasn't an object when it came to funding your flights to France, if you were also funding the charity events."

Sutton was forced to ping pong his head between the two men. He looked irritated and his Press Secretary stood up straight and made to open his mouth. Sutton held up a forestalling hand.

"The flights were funded by my fiancée's family. The money I committed to the charity events was from our family foundation, and although I was authorised to allocate it to whatever good cause I liked, none of it was for my own personal use."

"And now?" Derek pushed.

"I'm sorry?"

"And now, where does your funding for personal use come from?"

"Is that really any of your business?"

"Are you refusing to answer?" Jazz asked.

Sutton sighed. "If you must know, I came into a small trust fund on my marriage to Morag, as did she. Our families had the same firm of accountants advising them."

"Really? How interesting!"

"Not really. Our fathers had some business dealings in common."

"Do you have any children, Councillor Sutton?" Derek turned to ask.

"Yes. I have three. Two boys and a daughter. The eldest boy is four and my other children are twins aged two."

"Thank you. You've been very open with us in your answers and we do appreciate it." Jazz noted politely. Sutton nodded in acknowledgement.

"Now that we've agreed I've cooperated sufficiently, could you please tell me what this is about?"

Derek walked back to the sofas, reached inside his jacket pocket and produced a photograph of Sophie. It was a different photograph than he had used previously when questioning witnesses. This photograph had been given to them by the convent, it was approximately five years old like the other photograph, but- unlike the grainy photo of the charity event, it was properly focussed.

"Can I ask if you recognise this young woman?" He asked simply.

Sutton took the photograph and appeared to study it carefully, no doubt aware that the eyes of both officers were completely focussed on him.

"She's pretty." He said quietly and then handed the photograph back. "But no. I don't recognise her."

"Interesting." Derek commented.

"In what way?"

Derek slipped the photograph of the charity event across to him. "She attended this charity event – one of your charity events – approximately six years ago."

Sutton laughed in a way that was more of a snort. "And you expect me to remember her?"

"You said it yourself. She's pretty."

"And I've already told you, I was engaged back then. Happily." Sutton rubbed his hands through his hair. "Just out of interest, what has she done?"

Jazz took up the reins. "Apparently she died in a car accident five years ago."

Sutton showed no signs of shock. "How sad. Her family must have been devastated, but as I said, I never met her."

"You're sure about that?" Jazz pushed. "Not back then…" He paused. "Not last week?"

"Last week?! I thought you said she died five years ago?" Sutton looked confused.

"I did, didn't I?" Jazz smiled. "I also said 'apparently'."

Derek pulled the post mortem photo from his wallet. "You see there is some confusion, since Sophie Gardine was found dead in the car crash five years ago…and then again, last week, here in Toronto." He pushed the photo across the table towards the councillor. "She'd been murdered."

Councillor Sutton's eyes widened, and he swallowed softly before pulling himself together.

"I'll tell you now, Sergeant. I can't remember the Toronto charity events I attended last month, let alone who I spoke to or where they were held. How you expect me to remember a charity event in Hamilton, more than six years ago?! And I definitely don't remember meeting this girl, back then or more recently."

The Press Secretary had remained silent throughout the questions, though occasionally he had made a movement to interrupt but been forestalled by a sign from his employer. Now, however, Sutton made no objection when the Press Secretary stepped forward.

"I think it is time for this interview to end. You've already acknowledged the Councillor has answered your questions as completely and as fully as possible." He stated. "Despite some of them being extremely intrusive, and…was the post mortem photograph really necessary?"

Jazz turned to the officious suit. "A young woman lost her life. I cannot ignore the facts of her death and I must interview anyone who may have come into contact with her in connection with the charity. Since there are very few pictures of her in existence, I'm afraid, it is completely necessary to show those we do have to any potential witnesses."

Derek stood up. "After all, somewhere out there is a young child who deserves to know what happened to their mother." He commented in passing.

Sutton stared at Derek. "A child?" The shock was obvious.

Derek nodded. "Sophie Gardine was pregnant at the time of the car accident, but she survived, and it appears, she gave birth. She may not have had any other family, but she was someone's mother."

Councillor Sutton and his Press Secretary exchanged a look.

"Do you want to change your answer?" Jazz asked softly.

Sutton shook his head.

"Then, thank you, for your time." Jazz concluded.

Derek and Jazz left then, choosing to go before they were forced out. Both detectives were quiet until they had left the building and reached their car once again. Jazz climbed into the driving seat and looked across at Derek.

"Interesting." He commented.

"Always a pleasure to speak with our city elders." Derek noted with amusement. "He's a cold fish."

Jazz laughed. "Hell, yes! He didn't even blink when you showed him that first photograph. "Hardly any reaction when I mentioned the car crash either. The murder threw him, though. With the post mortem photograph. Nice touch, by the way."

Derek shrugged. "He irritated me. I didn't like the complacent way he dismissed her death."

"The complacency was only skin deep." Jazz noted. "You rattled him."

"Ha! And some."

"I guess most normal people react to the word 'murder' and the sight of a dead body with some degree of shock." Jazz started the car. "Except…"

Derek smiled broadly. "Except, we didn't know the picture was taken in Hamilton. Nice of the good Councillor to share that with us."

Bea pulled her car into the clinic parking lot, applied the brake and switched off the engine.

"Do you want me to hang around? I could come in with you or just wait outside to take you home?" She suggested to Casey who was sitting in the passenger seat. Casey shook her head.

"I've no idea how long I'm going to be. This is a new consultant, so I guess there will be lots he wants to go over, he'll need to read through my history etc." She grabbed her purse from the footwell of the car. "There are several questions I want to ask as well. Now that I'm feeling stronger. You know, things about the future…long term prognosis and so on."

Bea nodded. "I get that, Casey. But maybe you should have someone with you for this. If you are going to ask those sorts of questions. Just in case they tell you something you aren't prepared to hear."

Casey frowned. "Like what? It's not as though I'm ill. I'm just injured, and I've got so much of my mobility and health back, surely there isn't much that could be a shock for me. Usually when I come to these appointments, I have my mother or Derek with me. It makes talking about…certain things very awkward…embarrassing even."

Bea grinned. "Like…?" She teased. Casey blushed.

"You know…female stuff…and the practicalities of certain…activities."

Casey's friend laughed. "Hun, unless you are planning to swing from the light fittings, I'm pretty sure you are capable of having sex with a metal hip." She tilted her head thoughtfully to one side. "But I am pleased to see your mind is moving in a certain direction. Do I sense that things are hotting up between you and Derek?"

"Bea!" Casey objected. "I start to consider my future sex life and your mind goes straight to Derek. Isn't that a bit of a leap?"

"And…? Your point is? Come on, Casey. Please tell me you are at least considering Derek. You can't keep him waiting for ever. Guys like that, they can be patient, but five years is a long time."

Casey frowned. "I'm fairly sure Derek has not been waiting five years for me."

"What does that mean?"

"Derek has always been very active in his social life." Bea raised an eyebrow at the roundabout way Casey phrased it. "I just can't imagine him abstaining from anything physical for any length of time. There was always someone…Even if you are correct and he feels something for me now… or felt something for me years ago."

"Come on, Casey. He's been right there since your accident. He's still there."

"He's my step-brother, Bea. Where's he supposed to go? Family sticks with family. It's an unwritten rule."

Bea gave her a look. "Clueless!" She commented. "You seriously think he doesn't care about you – in a non-familial way?"

Casey looked away. "I'm sure he's…fond of me, in his own way." She admitted, "But, as you say, five years is a long time. Even if he was the sort of person to do long term commitment, no one is a saint."

"Casey…"

Casey turned back to look at her friend. "Bea, please. I'm trying really hard to be realistic about…my future. Derek has been fantastic – is being fantastic - and yes, we flirt. In a perfect world this spark would mean something…but, it isn't a perfect world."

"You're writing him off." Bea said with distaste.

"No!" Casey groaned. She sighed. "We joke about our relationship. We're affectionate…like best friends…and maybe, just recently, the flirting has been a bit more…but he's made it clear it's not going anywhere right now."

Bea looked taken aback. "Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Then why are you here? And why are you asking about sex?"

Casey sighed as she looked out of the window. "I'm here because I want my driving permit back, I need my freedom…" She turned back to Bea. "And because…because in the unlikely event the question even comes up, I want to know that I can say 'yes'."

The young girl was about sixteen, slim and brunette. There was none of the awkwardness of most teenagers as she moved, just the gracefulness of a creature born to dance. In the background, Derek heard the rhythm and melody of a dance track he recognised from his own teenaged years and it was like turning the clock back twelve years. He was, once again, in the Venturi kitchen, watching Casey through the doorway as she rehearsed in the family room.

"She's good." He commented to Stuart quietly. "A bit slow on the middle section, but otherwise almost perfect."

Stuart raised an eyebrow. "Displaying hidden depths, Derek?"

Derek shrugged. "I recognise the routine. Casey wrote it, didn't she?"

Stuart's surprise grew. "Yes. A very long time ago."

"Twelve years ago? For a dance competition." Derek scratched his head. "She won." He coughed. "And now I've displayed far more knowledge of my step-sister than I should ever have…" Stuart laughed.

"Your secret is safe with me. Yes, Casey wrote it. When she joined the company, she let me see some of her choreography. She let me use a couple of the pieces I liked. This is one of my favourites. And it's perfect for this age range and ability. Your step-sister was a very talented girl."

"She still is."

"Yes. Last night was…nothing short of miraculous, when you think of what she's been through."

"Thanks Stuart. You gave her back her self-esteem."

Stuart motioned to the chairs in the corner of the room and they sat down. "It was nothing that you hadn't already encouraged her to achieve."

"Maybe, but I couldn't give her back her dancing. And, though you almost stopped my heart for a moment when you did it in front of the audience, putting her on the spot like that was genius. She had no choice but to get up and try! Bullying seems to work with Casey."

"Bullying?" Stuart objected.

"Potato, pot-ah-to." Derek smirked. "Anywho…Trent Sutton." Derek dropped the name in without warning.

Stuart's face changed. "What about the bastard?" Stuart asked abruptly.

Amused at the reaction, Derek curled an eyebrow and stared at Stuart. The latter sighed through his nose and shifted on his chair.

"Sorry. A bit of an over-reaction, I know. It's just…I don't like people who use good causes and charities for their own gain. At his best he's an opportunist – and a smarmy bugger – and at his worst…"

"At his worst…?"

"His so-called good works tend to be either fronts for the old-boys' network or poor, legitimate causes whose association with Sutton tend to leave them worse off than they were before they met him."

"Including the dance company?"

Stuart nodded. "Yeah. And I guess I only have myself to blame for that. I persuaded him to work with us, to invest in the charity. It worked well for a while, it was mutually beneficial. We gave him publicity and a good name, he gave us money and a wider audience with connections."

"Until…?"

"Until he came to us and offered to put us in touch with a new donor. Which he did, but the new donations came at a cost. As a condition of the gift, we were required to relocate from the building we had been based in, to somewhere else. Cut a very long, bitter story into something shorter, the upshot was the money disappeared, just as we discovered our new home was built with substandard concrete and had to be demolished. The contract they had us sign was designed to tie us into the move, but without any guarantee of the money…which we never saw."

"And he knew that this would happen?"

"That multi-million dollar Toronto development which opened three years ago. His flagship?"

Derek nodded.

"Built on the site of our original studios."

"Ouch."

"And Mr white-smile Teflon came away looking cleaner than clean."

Derek nodded. "You couldn't challenge it?"

"We didn't have the funding for the legal fees. Besides, the other donors and sponsors were all friends of his. Who would fund us if we attacked him in court?" Stuart shook his head. "And I wasn't in the frame of mind. This was all shortly after Jessie died, while I was still trying to sort out his estate."

"Hence why Casey doesn't know about it, and why it passed me by."

"Yeah, you had other things on your plate." Stuart confirmed. He straightened. "Why are you interested in Trent?"

"You didn't speak to Mimi?" Derek queried. "After last night?"

Stuart shook his head. "Nah. It got busy and then we had a couple of drunks causing trouble after you left."

Derek turned his attention to the young dancer again. She was good, but she'd never be Casey. "Mimi tells us that Sophie was involved with someone at the time of her death…" He turned back to Stuart. "Trent Sutton."

Stuart's eyes widened. "Wow. She kept that quiet. It's not that I was nosey or anything, but I tried to keep an eye on my dancers."

"He was up and coming…and engaged. I doubt he encouraged her to share."

"Sounds about right." Then Stuart jerked his head abruptly towards Derek. "Sutton was her baby daddy?!"

"You tell me?"

"How the fuck should I know?"

Derek shrugged. "Was there anyone else on the scene at the time?"

Stuart was thoughtful for a moment. "No." He concluded. "And, I think I can be certain about that. Sophie may have been quiet about Sutton, but I can't see her hiding multiple lovers. You know, looking back on it, this makes sense. Mimi and Sophie were close, but those six months before Sophie's…accident, it all changed. And when I found out that Sophie was pregnant, I sort of expected Mimi to step up and take on the best friend role. It was a little surprising when Casey seemed to be her confidante."

"When was that?"

"Well, I found out about the baby at about the six-week mark. Sophie started throwing up regularly. I wanted to turn to Mimi for help, but she'd arranged with Jessie to take a leave of absence to tour with some company on the west coast. Anyway, Sophie told me not to worry, she was fine. She didn't look fine, but I stopped noticing the morning sickness and I think that was because it eased. Mimi returned a month later, but they didn't resume their friendship, the next thing I know, Sophie is hanging around with Casey. Casey was going with her to hospital appointments, shopping trips etc."

"When was this?"

"About the twelve-week mark."

"How long before the accident?"

"Eight-twelve weeks."

Derek closed his eyes. "Sophie was 24 weeks…"

"I guess."

Derek looked thoughtful. "Did she speak to you again? Ask about time off for a scan etc?"

Stuart snorted. "We aren't slave-drivers, Derek. She didn't need to take time off. She didn't ask to go to a scan, but I know she went for one. She came back full of joy about the pictures." Stuart's eyes widened. "Oh my god! I remember…she was expecting a girl."

Derek smiled. "Great! That's a real help, Stuart. It helps us narrow down the baby's birth. We find the baby, we can prove who the baby's father is."

"I wish I'd paid more attention, asked more questions. It's just…you know, it was a high-pressure environment."

"I know, honestly, I remember."

"So, did you talk to Sutton? About the baby?" Stuart asked.

Derek nodded. "I dropped it in to conversation. It was a shock to him…or at least the fact that she'd given birth was a shock. Otherwise, he didn't flinch when we talked about her death.

"Does that take him off your suspect list or move him higher up?

"That really is the question, isn't it?"

They chatted for a while longer, Stuart giving Derek as much information as he could about Trent Sutton, but as both men had already stated, they were hardly friends. Derek felt upbeat on the way back to the office, however, progress was slow, but it was happening. Considering what they had started with, they had come a long way.

The mood was similarly upbeat in the office after lunch. The daily briefing shared lots of new information amongst the team, and the junior members found they had several new lines of enquiry. Agatha took herself off the general research and asked to own the search for Sophie's baby. Derek readily agreed.

"Good idea. You've got the rare blood group, the baby's gender and photos of Sophie. It will take a while, no doubt, but it will be worth it. Keep in touch with the rest of the team, though, in case the information they turn up could help you narrow the search."

It was now late afternoon and the previous night's activities in the club were starting to catch up with them. Someone changed the coffee in the machine to a turbo-charged bean and, soon, Derek and Jazz - somewhat wired – began looking for other members of Jessie's dance company and more evidence of the relationship between Sophie and Trent.

It was all going so well…

…and then George phoned.

"Hi Dad!" A slightly jittery Derek answered his cell.

"Derek, is Casey with you?" Derek's father cut straight to the chase.

Derek frowned. "No, I'm in the office. She'll be out with Bea or something."

George sighed down the phone. "Unfortunately, not. Bea's here. We're in the office. Nora just called asking when Casey was going to be home, but Casey hasn't been here all afternoon."

"Ok…have you tried her cell?"

"It's ringing out."

"Did you ping it?"

"Out of range. Could she be at your apartment?" George asked, hopefully.

Derek looked up at the clock. "Possibly, but it's good cell coverage there. She'd answer or you'd be able to ping her. She's probably just gone shopping or something. Tell Nora not to fuss."

"Nora fusses for a reason, Derek. She's her mother."

"I know, I know. Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Do you want me to try calling her? I don't have a landline at the apartment, but I can probably call the concierge."

"Maybe…Hang on…Bea wants to speak." George told his son. There was a pause whilst he handed the phone to Casey's friend.

"Derek, it's Bea."

"Hi Bea, she'll have just gone shopping or something."

"I don't think so, Derek. George is doing a dreadful job of explaining, but the reason why I'm concerned about Casey is she's not where I was expecting her to be."

"Sorry, I don't follow."

"Casey had me drop her somewhere. I offered to wait and give her a lift home, but she said no as she didn't know how long she'd be. I decided to hang around the area anyway, and I went to a local mall to kill time. An hour later, I went back to see if she'd finished and they told me she had left abruptly fifteen minutes earlier. The receptionist was concerned because Casey seemed really upset. They hadn't wanted her to leave and had suggested calling you or Nora. She left anyway."

Derek started to get an uneasy feeling.

"Where did you take her?"

Bea took a deep breath through her nose. "I took her to see her consultant. She was looking to get her driver's permit re-instated and ask a few questions."

The uneasy feeling grew.

"Did you speak to him? Did you find out why she was upset?"

Unseen, Bea shook her head. "They wouldn't let me know what was discussed. Patient confidentiality. I drove around the area, but I couldn't find her. I'm sorry, Derek, I don't know why, but think she's disappeared."

Derek leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. "Yeah, Bea. So do I…the trouble is I'm fairly sure I also know why."