‘As I said, I saw your form by accident and we wanted to speak to someone with first-hand experience.’ Kim sat back down. ‘What’s this about a text?’
Stephanie took her phone from her back pocket before answering. ‘I made friends with someone in there. A man, Jerry, in his fifties. He’s a kitchen hand, been there for years. He knew what went on there, but he was scared to say anything for fear of losing his job.’ She opened up her phone. ‘He sent me a text on Friday.’
Kim took the phone that was offered and read the exchange.
Jerry: Get ready shit’s gonna hit the fan.
Stephanie: What shit???
Jerry: Got a letter out. Trustworthy guy. Put it in his bag.
Stephanie: Who???
Jerry: Gotta go speak soon.
Stephanie: It’s been 2 days. Nothing yet.
Stephanie: What’s going on?
Stephanie: Is everything ok?
The last message had been sent by Stephanie the day before. The last three messages had been delivered but not read.
‘He stopped answering and I don’t know why.’
Kim had no idea why either, but she did know she’d been shown around the kitchen earlier that day and there’d been absolutely no sign of a kitchen hand.
FIFTY
Stacey’s shoulders were still carrying the weight of Beth’s emotional outburst when she walked back into the squad room. She had argued with Burns to take the case on, so sure that such a loving and committed husband wouldn’t just run out on his wife, and all evidence was pointing towards Burns having been right. That fact wasn’t helping her mood one bit.
‘Yay, the cavalry is here,’ Penn said as she took a seat.
And that was exactly why she needed to blow it off. There was no more she could do, and another case needed her attention.
‘Okay, where do you want me?’
‘I’m waiting on the phone records, actual phone and computer from Liam Sachs so he’s on hold for now. My first sweep for information on Charles Stamoran and Lorraine Abbott of Exodus has turned up very little and I’m now onto the Gardners and the clinic.’
‘Okay, I’ll take Exodus and you stick with the Gardners. Anything interesting so far?’
Penn sighed. ‘Not a lot on the clinic and that’s the problem. The website doesn’t offer names of any staff members, or practitioners as they’re called. I can’t even find out what exactly a practitioner is qualified to do. The website mentions only that Celia was raised and schooled in the Black Country before attending university. The rest of the blurb is about her wanting to help people feel comfortable in their own skin.’
‘Isn’t that strange?’ Stacey asked as a thought occurred to her.
‘What?’
‘Celia and Megan. They’re a similar age, both gay, both brought up in the same area but with totally opposing views on how best to help folks feel better about themselves.’
‘Yeah, but only one of them forces their patients to sign NDAs; actually that’s both staff and patients so I can understand why there’s not much out there on the internet to find, but—’
‘You gotta wonder why they have to sign non-disclosure agreements though?’ Stacey said. ‘If the treatment they offer is all above board and they wholeheartedly believe in what they’re doing, why is no one allowed to speak about it?’
‘Good question,’ Penn answered. ‘Although I’m not sure where corrective rape falls in the list of approved treatment methods.’
Stacey felt her mouth fall open. ‘No way that goes on there.’
Since the term conversion therapy had come up, Stacey had made it her business to find out more and educate herself. She now knew that Ecuador had more than two hundred treatment clinics that operated under the guise of drug addiction centres. She knew that although homosexuality had been legal since 1997, men and women were lifted from the streets and imprisoned in these treatment centres.