"You're doing fine sweetheart, deep breaths." Sam was tenderly stroking a hand down Jo's back as the brunette sat with her head between her knees, swallowing convulsively to try and stave off the nausea threatening to overwhelm her.
"She's wrong, I wasn't reluctant to tell her about our relationship – I just didn't see the need to spell it out to her that I was making love to you when that man was shot!" Jo grumbled sitting up slightly as she heard Jack approaching, knowing that she was probably about to be ordered off the job again.
"It's ok. She wanted explicit details from me too, I told her to rent 'Tipping The Velvet' if she wanted titillation, that she wasn't going to get her kicks from me!" Sam smiled, feeling her own heart rate slow a little as Jo returned it weakly.
"How are you doing Jo?" Jack stood in front of the sergeant, crouching so that he could take a proper look at her.
"Better Guv, thank you. That hasn't happened for a few days, I've no idea what triggered it." She answered honestly, knowing it was her only hope of not being ordered to take more leave.
"Are you sure you're not trying to walk before you can run? No one is expecting you to be back to full strength yet…" Jack worked his way around to suggesting Jo take some more time off
"…no one except me Guv. I'm fine physically as long as I don't push it and mentally for the most part I'm every bit as strong now as I was before the accident. No one can say how long these flashes will go on for and I'm not sitting around indefinitely until my mind decides what it will and won't recall. With all due respect Sir, sitting around the house is more likely to hamper my progress than being back at work. Maybe for the rest of the week I should concentrate more on paperwork and less on being on the frontline so to speak but I do want to stay at work." Jack watched the fire return to Jo's gaze, knowing that no matter what she was going through personally, he could always rely on her to offer one hundred percent of herself to the job.
"Agree to restricted duties and with a proviso that you see a counsellor once a week, I'll back you to continue working." The DCI offered, sensing Jo's reluctance to the idea of talking through her experience with anyone other than Sam but knowing her need to work would win.
"Ok fine, if that's what it takes, that's what I'll do." She agreed reluctantly.
"Right, both of you head back to the station, Jo I want you to talk to that old professor who lectured with Hugh again, see if he can shed any more light on the nature of his relationship with the Niamh O'Rourke. It might be worthwhile talking to James King again too, see if he's any more talkative when you mention the body count stacking up – take Phil with you for that. Sam, go over everything we've got so far, check we're not missing anything obvious. We need to find O'Rourke… now."
"We're assuming the body's Hugh's then?" Sam asked tentatively, not sure whether to be relieved or more terrified at the thought of another death on her conscience.
"I'm not assuming anything until we have the post-mortem results but I think either way, we need to speak to Ciaran O'Rourke."
"Professor Daniels, it's Detective Sergeant Jo Masters again from Sun Hill CID. I was wondering if I could take up a few more minutes of your time?" Jo heard the kindly old man sigh at the other end of the line.
"I don't see what further use I can be to you love but feel free to ask your questions. As I said before, my memory's not what it used to be." Jo smiled to herself, thinking the same could be said of her at present.
"I appreciate your agreeing to talking to me Professor…" Jo began
"Bill please, no one's called me Professor in years." He insisted.
"I was wondering if you could tell me anything more about Niamh O'Rourke? Did Hugh Wallis ever talk to you about her?" Jo sat at her desk poised with her pen hovering about her notepad, a cup of coffee just within reach.
"A few times, just after he started meeting her, he told me terrible tales of how her father beat her and abused her in the most ghastly fashion. It was just the two of them, Niamh and her dad. Her mother and baby sister were shot over in Ireland, or so the girl said." The old man tutted into the receiver, remembering the shiver that had gone through him at the thought of using his own daughter in the way Hugh had described.
"Did Hugh actually tell you that Niamh's father was sexually abusing her?" Jo pressed wondering how long the alleged abuse had been going on for before Niamh told anyone.
"Yes, just came out and said 'her dad rapes her practically every night' like he was discussing the weather or something. It put me off my lunch, off food for the rest of the day to be honest. I told him he had to help her get away from him. He assured me that's what he was doing."
"And when you met Niamh, what was your impression of her? Young girls can be prone to fabricating things if they think it will attract attention. Did she strike you as someone seeking attention?" Jo was troubled to think of a young girl losing her mother and sister and being left alone with an abusive father.
"Niamh was one of the most unassuming young ladies I've ever met. She was very quiet, didn't like to attract attention to herself at all, never wore makeup or fashionable clothes and really only spoke when she spoken to directly. She was one of those people you'd never really notice on the street. So no detective, I wouldn't say she was an attention seeker in my opinion, but that is all it is." The old man sighed again and Jo started wondering if he was having breathing difficulties.
"You seem to remember her well Bill."
"After your phone call earlier, I haven't been able to stop thinking about her. It was a terrible tragedy what happened on that bridge. Do you know, her father only ever visited her once? Once he saw the state that she was in, he couldn't bring himself to look at her again. I thought at the time it would have been kinder for her sake had she been killed in the fall." Jo couldn't help but mentally agree with him, knowing she would have preferred to be left to die rather than kept alive artificially without any quality of life. It was a conversation she and Sam had had some weeks before her own fall; she wondered if Sam would have respected that wish had she been left severely brain-damaged.
"Did you ever get the impression that Hugh was sleeping with Niamh?"
"Not once. It really surprised me when that came out after the accident. Niamh always looked up to him, treated him like the father she wished she'd had, looking to him for advice and permission to do things. Looking back, I suppose that in itself could be construed as an abusive relationship if he was sleeping with her. Hindsight is a marvellous but equally treacherous thing." Hearing another deep sigh from Bill's end of the line, Jo decided to give the old man a rest.
"Thank you for your time, I hope not to have to trouble you again." Jo concluded her conversation, finding it having raised more questions than it answered for her. She looked across to where Sam sat, engrossed in reviewing the paper trail the case had created. Wandering over, empty coffee cup in hand, she perched on Sam's desk, finding the only spare space on the crowded surface. "Fancy a coffee?"
"Mmm thanks, I'd love one." Sam looked up at the invitation, her own weary expression matching Jo's. She rose from her desk and accompanied Jo to the machine at the foot of the stairs, needing the break from sitting, her muscles stiffening up. As they returned to the almost deserted CID, Sam asked, "how did you get on with the Professor?"
"I don't know to be honest. According to Bill Daniels, Hugh was the father to Niamh that Ciaran wasn't. She lost her mum and younger sister, both of them shot dead in Ireland, sounds like she was her mother's replacement for her dad; she claimed he regularly abused her sexually. Could have rendered her susceptible to Hugh's charms, or it could mean that the baby she was carrying was in fact her own father's. The man she was arguing with on the bridge was never formally identified and Hugh's only means of alibi vanished when Ciaran battered the prostitute to death. What if Hugh was sleeping with Niamh but he wasn't the one who got her pregnant? If Ciaran found out she was pregnant, that it was his child and she threatened to tell people the truth about him, he could have had motivation to push her off that bridge. And with Hugh's relationship with her not exactly a secret, he was a convenient scapegoat, until he came up with an alibi." Jo theorised, her mind trying to work out all the possible implications.
"Maybe she wasn't arguing with whoever it was on the bridge, maybe they were trying to talk her out of jumping. Whoever's the baby was, she was in deep trouble if her father found out if it's true he was abusive. If it was Hugh's he wouldn't be impressed that she was sleeping with an older man, if it was her father's…" Sam trailed off thinking that he would probably have made her get rid of the child, stopping short of vocalising her thoughts in respect of Jo's own experience as a young girl.
"Whilst all that is tragic, I don't see how it helps us figure out the motivation behind what's going on now." Jo frowned at Sam, feeling like she was missing something obvious. "Have you seen Phil? Maybe James King can offer us an insight, being on personal terms with O'Rourke and everything."
"Last time I saw him, he was drooling over some lawyer down in the custody suite!" Sam scoffed, rolling her eyes.
"But he and Cindy…?" Jo left the question unfinished, Sam picking up her train of thought and supplying the answer.
"She moved out; no kid, no marriage. That was the deal." Jo mouthed 'ah' turning as the doors to CID opened, Phil rubbing his ears and moaning about the heat as he entered, looking at the two women quizzically as he realised they were watching him.
"I know I'm gorgeous ladies, but there's no need to gawp!" Both muttered an 'oh, please,' before Sam returned her attention to her paperwork.
"Ready to tackle James King again Phil?" Jo asked grabbing her jacket and downing the rest of her coffee.
"It's Zain,Guv. Biker guy called at a lockup on a housing estate. He's currently sitting outside a house on a Renfrew Lane, we're quite a way South of Sun Hill, he's talking on his mobile. You want me to stick with him?"
"Where exactly are you Zain? Do you have any idea whereabouts it is on a map?" Jack's mind was in turmoil as the street name rang a bell, not believing in coincidences for one moment.
"We drove south, past the old warehouses where Mark Somerton was arrested, onto that new housing estate they finished building last year, taking the fourth left off the main through road. Renfrew Lane seems to arc away from the main road and then join it again a bit further down. He's sitting outside number 37. Why Guv?" Zain could hear the hitch in Jack's breathing.
"Stay with him Zain. I want you to go wherever he goes. Let me know if anything changes or if you have company." Jack hung up before Zain could push for more information, immediately redialling another number.