Forget Me Never

only had one connection to dowsing crystals I could think of – Fay’s flat.
    How well had Cherie known Dani? Maybe far less than I’d assumed, given that Cherie probably hadn’t liked Dani as much as she’d pretended. That list of hobbies was really vague apart from the crystals. Maybe she’d thrown them in because she’d been struggling to think of things?
    But to know about the crystals, Cherie would have to have been in Fay’s flat. It was the only explanation. And as Danielle had been tracked down by Aiden the weekend she died, that meant Cherie would only have had one opportunity to go there – the Sunday Dani died.
    I didn’t remember anything of the journey after that. I sleepwalked off the train, across Waterloo station and down on to the Northern line.
    My skin was goose-pimpling all over but I felt strangely calm, perhaps because for the first time my thoughts were making perfect sense.
    Cherie must have confronted Danielle in the flat. Perhaps she and Aiden had come down to Bournemouth together that weekend. I knew from what Reece had learned at Vaughan-Bayard that Aiden had been furious with Dani for disappearing – he must have been terrified she’d give the game away. Especially if Dani knew that the drug in development had side-effects issues – she might have told Patrick, and then the deal definitely would have been off. The side effects could even have been the nail in the coffin for Dani’s involvement. She might be naive with people, but she knew right from wrong. Selling on a drug formula was one thing, but selling on a dangerous drug formula was definitely a bad idea.
    Aiden and Cherie had probably decided that Aiden should approach Dani. It had been proved that he’d left before Dani died, but that wouldn’t stop Cherie staying behind – I bet she didn’t trust Aiden to persuade Danielle to keep quiet. And hey, maybe she’d intended to go one step further and get rid of any physical evidence – Edith, and Danielle’s phone! I knew that her phone hadn’t been on her when she died and had never been found. But Cherie wouldn’t have been able to do anything about Edith – because I had her!
    The big question was whether Cherie would have been prepared to commit murder.
    It was so extreme that I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. Cherie was definitely ruthless, and had probably been seething with jealousy the whole time Dani was with Aiden – but a killer? Maybe her ‘chat’ with Dani had turned into a fight. Or perhaps she’d come armed and angry . . . which would fit with Dani being afraid enough to back off the balcony.
    And all this meant that Dani wasn’t mentally ill or deeply unhappy – just involved with some seriously bad people.
    ‘It’s sketchy,’ I muttered to myself. ‘But it makes sense.’
    But even if I was right about everything, there was still a big problem – proving it.
    The next morning I was in a dilemma. I really wanted to make up with Reece and tell him what I’d worked out, but I swiftly realized that it would just make him even more hurt and angry. He’d been pretty clear that he thought pursuing this investigation was putting his family in danger. It was funny, considering how much I thought about the meaning of family, that I hadn’t realized how protective Reece was of his.
    No, I’d have to give Reece time to cool off before calling him. I was so sure I was right about Dani, but there was no way of proving it. Cherie hadn’t left any evidence, and I couldn’t even prove that she had been in Bournemouth that weekend. Unless . . .
    Seven the next evening found me lurking in Vaughan-Bayard’s underground car park. I’d managed to slip under the barrier when a car had driven out. Each time someone came down in the lift I ducked behind the rubbish bins. I wasn’t sure if anyone would confront me, but I didn’t want to run the risk.
    It was eerie waiting down there; it could have been any time, night or day, and I wouldn’t know. There had to be about sixty parking spaces; most had been vacated. There had been a steady flow of employees leaving since I’d arrived at five thirty, but none of them had been the person I was waiting for.
    Though I was uncomfortable and afraid and rapidly losing my nerve, since Bournemouth I somehow felt I was seeing the world with clarity, as though I’d put on a new pair of glasses. In the pocket of my hoody I was hiding a Dictaphone, finger poised to hit the record button. The Dictaphone