Never Look Back by Clare Donoghue Page A

dinner. I have worked with the MPS for many years now.’ Hodgson’s smile widened.
    Lockyer hadn’t spotted that when he had read through the transcript of Hodgson’s first interview. Hodgson certainly had friends in high places. ‘Could you excuse me for a moment, Mr Hodgson? Constable, can you pause the session, please?’ He stood but kept his eyes on Penny.
    ‘Yes, sir. Interview suspended at 09.25,’ she said, stopping the digital recording.
    As he pulled the door of the interview room closed he rubbed his forehead. So far there was absolutely no connection to any of the other victims, but that didn’t mean one wouldn’t be found. In the same way that Walsh had been too nervous, too emotional, Hodgson seemed too comfortable, too confident. He needed to find something to unsettle the guy.
    Lockyer knocked on the door of the interview room and waited.
    ‘Yes.’ He heard Jane call out.
    He turned the handle, pushed open the door and poked his head through the gap. ‘You got a second?’ he asked, glancing at the girl sitting on the other side of the table. Stacey Clemments didn’t look a day over twelve.
    ‘Of course, sir,’ Jane said, pushing her chair back and joining him in the hallway.
    He waited for the door to close before speaking. ‘So, how’s it going?’
    ‘Good,’ Jane said in a hushed voice. ‘She’s pretty nervous but I think she’s being truthful, so far. Do you want to sit in?’
    Lockyer wanted to know more about Debbie from someone who actually cared about her, something that he could use to push Hodgson off balance. ‘Yes, I will. Just for a few minutes,’ he said, his hand already on the door handle.
    After the introductions he sat back in his chair, to give Jane space to work and Stacey space to breathe. The young girl looked about ready to collapse. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes huge, like a startled animal. He listened as Jane talked to her, her voice soothing, her words supportive, encouraging. There was a knack in interviews like this. If you could build on a level of trust there was no end to what people would tell you. Jane was a master. She was far better at this aspect of the job than he was and he was more than happy to admit it as he watched Stacey wipe a tear from her chin, nod and start to talk.
    ‘I’d seen her two days before,’ Stacey said, swallowing. ‘We’d been to The Ivy House, listened to a load of performance poets and a band . . . well, sort of a band,’ she said, closing her eyes as if to remember. When she opened them she looked totally different, almost defiant. ‘You may as well know we were smoking, smoking gear, I mean. I guess you test her hair for that kinda thing. It wasn’t a regular thing, not every day or anything, but her mother didn’t know, doesn’t know. You don’t have to tell her, do you?’
    As he listened to Jane reassuring the teenager he was struck by just how young Stacey sounded. He imagined Debbie had been much the same; a small squeak to her voice, a strong south-east London accent. He thought about Megan. She was the same age as Debbie and Stacey. When she left uni and went out to work, if that was her decision, would she find it as hard? He looked over at Stacey as she talked and realized just how vulnerable Debbie had been. She would never have seen him coming.
    ‘We mainly went out locally, The Ivy House, EDT, The Bishop, Liquorice . . . places like that,’ Stacey said, counting off the different pubs on her fingers.
    ‘Is there a group of you?’ Jane asked.
    Stacey shook her head. ‘No, just me and Debbie. She wasn’t always allowed out . . . her mum was quite strict, wanted her to do well in the new job. It was in the City. None of their family have ever been to the City, let alone worked there,’ Stacey said, a small sneer crossing her face. He guessed Stacey hadn’t been approved of by Debbie’s mother and the dislike seemed to be mutual.
    ‘Go on, Stacey,’ Jane said, her voice so soothing that he