The interview footage had been viewed innumerable times as part of the enquiry and a long list of these viewings scrolled out as Helen delved into the search history. But on only three occasions had the actual footage been downloaded or burned on to disc or memory stick. And for two of those, Helen had been present – moreover, she still had the downloads in her possession. Which left one unauthorized download. It was impossible to cover your tracks with these things without destroying the whole server and there it was in black and white: ‘Weds 11th January 4.15 p.m.’
It was unlikely to have been the data officers as they were involved in industrial action that day, but perhaps that’s why the thief chose that day in particular. Whittaker was on leave, whilst Helen had been at the forensics lab all afternoon. The junior team officers had been doing house-to-house that day (Helen would have to double-check that), so that left two officers in the know who were in the building and had access to the secure server: Mark and Charlie.
Helen was kicking herself. She should have cancelled her dinner with Mark, feigned some excuse, but he’d caught her on the hop. She couldn’t back out of their dinner without offending him or acting in a way that would have aroused his suspicions, so she’d gone along with it. He’d joked with her about the effort he’d gone to to impress her, which is why they were now tucking into prawn bucatini in virtual silence. Helen was fully aware of Mark’s disappointment and awkwardness – his vision of a night of passionate lovemaking in tatters – but it was impossible to stop thinking about it. Unless Helen was completely off beam, it was probable that either Charlie or Mark had grossly betrayed the team and in the process opened up their investigation to an outsider. If a corrupt officer wanted money, they’d leak to the press. So this had to be something else. Blackmail. Sex. Or something more sinister.
Helen was torn in two. She wanted to be upfront with him but to do so would be to put her own neck on the line. This was now an internal investigation and if she shared information with a ‘suspect’ then she would be corrupt too. So she bit her tongue and made polite conversation.
They gave up on the meal quite quickly and moved into the living room. Helen wandered over to the mantelpiece. The pictures of the happy family and the ex-wife were long gone. All that remained were innumerable pictures of a little girl, with a cute blonde bob and a big smile.