Her Secret Past: A completely gripping and heart-stopping crime thriller

by Kerry Watts

  Rachel stared at the bed on the other side of the wall with the same lilac duvet set waiting to be put on it. The wall on this side was bare apart from the odd piece of Blu-Tack leftover from whoever last had this bed. Her solicitor explained that she was to live there with the foster family for now and they seemed nice. The foster parents knew who she really was but that was as far as the information had been shared. It was almost her fifteenth birthday and she was relieved not to be spending it in that place.

  The pain that had grumbled in her stomach since earlier that day grew stronger. Just nerves, she told herself. She was always nervous of meeting new people, let alone moving in with them. Her stomach was bound to be upset.

  Saying goodbye to the horses had been hard. Harder than anything Rachel had ever felt. With her stallion especially. He’d taught her to trust again. She’d been told so many times that David had abused her that eventually Rachel had tried to believe it. So many different people can’t be wrong. But it still confused her that what they’d had felt so right.

  ‘Hiya, whatcha doing?’ The girl standing behind Rachel grinned at her, revealing her silver braces. ‘I’m Ella. The only rule in this room is don’t mess with my stuff and I won’t mess with yours – got that?’

  ‘Er yes, guess so.’ Rachel was too overwhelmed to argue and it wasn’t exactly a bad rule, she thought. ‘You keep a diary?’ she asked hesitantly, hoping to strike up a conversation with her new roommate. ‘I think I should do that. A lot has happened to me recently.’

  Ella held up one of her hands then opened the drawer in her bedside cabinet. Rachel took the chance to peer inside and saw it was as chaotic and untidy as Ella, who had short brown hair that stuck up in several different directions and wore her denim shirt half tucked in half out of her ripped blue denim jeans, which looked a little too big for her slight frame. Ella lifted a brand new notebook with flamingos on the cover then dipped her hand back in and produced a black pen.

  ‘Here you go – consider it a “welcome to our room” gift.’ She held the book and pen out to her.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Rachel said. ‘That’s so kind of you.’

  ‘As long as you don’t mind flamingos,’ Ella said with a laugh.

  Rachel felt a little tear push from the back of her eye. She sniffed to stop its progress. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass herself in front of Ella.

  ‘I quite like them actually. Flamingos, that is.’ Rachel spoke quietly.

  ‘They’ll let you put up some posters if you want to.’ Ella pointed to the drab bare wall. ‘What are you into? What bands do you like listening to?’

  ‘Not sure really. I quite like Bon Jovi.’ Rachel nodded to the large picture of Jon Bon Jovi Ella had above her bed.

  ‘Good taste.’

  The two girls giggled as their foster mother called them down for dinner. Ella linked arms with Rachel and tugged her towards the bedroom door.

  ‘Come on – we’d better go before the boys eat all the chicken.’

  Was this what it was like to have a real friend? If it was then becoming Rachel had already increased her friends tally by a hundred per cent. Suddenly she wasn’t sad in the slightest that Alice Connor was dead.

  21

  Gordon Angus didn’t want to stop running until he felt he was far enough away to not be seen. It had been a mistake going there. He shouldn’t have done that. He’d scared her. Gordon could see that. She was pretty in her dressing gown with her hair messy like that. His mum had told him about knocking and waiting for the door to be answered. He should have remembered that. But he had so much he wanted to ask her. Needed to ask her. Questions that had burned inside him since that day – the day his heart leaped at the idea he knew her.

  Time had seemed to stop that day. It had been a day like every other until that point. He’d got up, had breakfast and left for the bus. Rain had threatened but hadn’t arrived. The blonde girl with the beautiful skin was there as she was every day. The one that smiled at Gordon every time she got on the bus. He liked her – liked her a lot. She had started creeping into Gordon’s thoughts at home.

  Finding that article though had tossed his fantasy woman from the bus from his mind. There was nobody like the woman that stared back at him from his computer screen. The day he stumbled upon Alice Connor, she’d looked so small in the picture. Alice. So fragile yet so strong in his mind. He wanted to ask her how it had felt for her, in that moment – the moment death had arrived. Was it exhilarating for her? Did her heart race; feel like it might explode?

  His phone rang in his pocket for the fifth time. He ignored the call again just as he had ignored his mum’s other four calls. At least the rain had stopped. He glanced back and couldn’t see the house now from the other side of the wood. He startled a dog walker who quickened her pace when Gordon seemed to appear out of nowhere. He frowned at her just as his phone rang again.

  ‘Mum, what is it?’ He had no choice but to answer. He couldn’t switch it off. That didn’t feel right. He needed to be able to call for help at any given time. His gran had told him that. She fussed over Gordon and he liked that. Sometimes. Sometimes she irritated him. Sometimes a lot of people irritated Gordon. ‘What do you mean Dad’s in hospital?’ he asked.

  Gordon was confused. The last time he’d seen him he was fine. He couldn’t be in hospital; his dad would have told him. He knew that Gordon didn’t like surprises.

  ‘I’m on my way, Mum.’

  Gordon hung up the call from his mum and stuffed the phone deep into his jacket pocket, then he stopped walking and spun around slowly to get his bearings. He could see the top of the post office on the edge of Luncarty in the distance. He could probably be in Perth in an hour and a half, if he walked fast enough. He checked his watch. He thought he’d just missed the number 34 then he remembered because it was Christmas the buses were all different. These public holidays were hard for Gordon. Everything was different. Nothing was in the order he needed.

  22

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Dylan quizzed her as his Audi twisted along the pot-holed driveway to Rachel’s cottage, the ancient oaks that had long since shed their leaves lining the way.

  Jessie pressed her head against the back of the passenger seat. She had so many thoughts spinning in her mind she didn’t know where to begin. Gordon Angus and his obsession with serial killers. Was he a vulnerable, innocent autistic man or cunning double murderer? Did Gordon know about the will? Jessie couldn’t decide. She hoped it wouldn’t be long before she’d be able to ask him.

  Then there was the evidence. She was still waiting to see if the DNA from the hair was on the database but the boot print was looking more like it came from a riding boot. Rachel Ferguson wore riding boots every day and she’d had a disagreement with the Anguses over their objection to her planning application. It was the boots and their disagreement that authorised the warrant to search Rachel’s home. Her honesty had been refreshing but she must have known that Jessie would find out soon enough.

  Jessie was tempted to believe her proclamation of innocence, though. She was convincing – Jessie had to admit that – but for the evidence. The bullets David found matched a gun commonly used in hunting, and Kenny Ferguson enjoyed shooting grouse on the moors. Jessie knew that much. Hunting was something Jessie could never understand; killing for sport didn’t sit well with her.

  ‘Jessie, you’re miles away,’ Dylan teased.

  ‘No, I’m not,’ Jessie said, smiling. ‘I’m just thinking, that’s all.’

  It wasn’t just the case that plagued her mind; she was struggling to get the image of Haley McKenzie’s smiling face out of her head.

  ‘About whether Rachel is really guilty?’

  ‘Amongst other things,’ she admitted. ‘That and the envelope Gordon handed into the police station. Why give them to us and not just return them to the farmhouse?’

  ‘Do you think he realised he’d done wrong?’ Dylan suggested and stole a short glance in Jessie’s
direction. ‘Had he figured out there would be police at the farmhouse and he wanted to avoid them?’

  ‘I’m not sure I know anything about that lad,’ Jessie conceded before sighing gently. ‘I felt sorry for Arlene Angus, you know.’

  ‘You did?’

  ‘Aye, it couldn’t have been easy seeing other folk’s kids doing what she saw as normal stuff. You know what I mean?’

  Dylan nodded and thought about his own son. He had so many hopes for his children and could relate to what Jessie had just suggested. He wasn’t sure how he and his wife Shelly would cope.

  ‘Jessie – look.’ He lifted a finger up from the steering wheel to point to Rachel’s front door.

  Jessie looked over to see Rachel open the door for them before they stopped the car. She looked anxious. Like she’d seen a ghost, even. Jessie could see frown lines on her forehead even from that distance. Something she’d never noticed when they’d met last time.

  ‘Interesting,’ Dylan muttered.

  ‘Mm, you could say that,’ Jessie mumbled and smiled at Rachel as she approached the car. The sound of another vehicle approaching made Jessie turn to see Kenny’s Land Rover speed towards the garage at the back of the property. Kenny shot a look of serious concern at them as he rushed past. Jessie spotted that Rachel was visibly relieved to see Kenny’s car too.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ Jessie called out then frowned. Rachel looked like she was trembling, until Kenny scooped her into his arms and led her back inside.

  Jessie heard him whisper to her that everything was OK now; he was here, while she and Dylan followed the couple inside to a cacophony of barking. Dylan threw a wide-eyed glance at Jessie as he closed the cottage door behind them all.

  Jessie made her way through the chaos of dogs’ bodies all fighting to get a share of her attention. She pressed her fingers against the search warrant in her black jacket pocket but left it there for now. She followed the couple into their long galley kitchen and watched Kenny attentively help his wife into a dining chair before pouring her a glass of water.

  Kenny handed the glass into her trembling hands. ‘Here you go, darling.’

  ‘Has something happened?’ Jessie asked, looking from Kenny to Rachel and back.

  ‘I’ll tell you what’s happened.’ Kenny dropped his hand onto his wife’s shoulder and rubbed his thumb gently back and forth. ‘That weird grandson of theirs was here. Scaring my wife half to death with his nonsense. Thank God I wasn’t far away when she called and was able to turn back. I’m sorry that’s happened to his grandparent’s but—’

  ‘Gordon was here?’

  Rachel nodded.

  ‘What are you lot going to do about him?’ Kenny boomed. ‘That lad’s not right.’ He tapped his temple with his finger.

  Dylan moved forward and pulled out another dining chair from the eight that surrounded their large table.

  ‘What did Gordon do?’ Dylan scratched at his cropped brown hair and smiled at Rachel.

  Rachel tried to smile back. ‘He didn’t exactly do anything. He just walked in and sat down.’

  Dylan looked at Jessie. She had told him everything that Arlene Angus had confided in her on the drive back here. He wondered if Gordon realised he’d scared her like that because Rachel was clearly spooked by something.

  ‘Did he say anything to you?’ Jessie added.

  Rachel shrugged and wiped a tear that had formed on the edge of her eye. ‘He said he wanted some Jaffa cakes.’

  ‘Jaffa cakes?’ Jessie repeated.

  ‘I asked him if he wanted a cup of tea, I think – or he asked for one. I can’t remember.’ She shook her head. ‘It all happened so fast, to be honest.’

  Jessie paused before commenting. Rachel was clearly flustered by his visit. She pursed her lips while she considered her words.

  ‘He wanted a cup of tea and a biscuit?’ she finally said.

  Kenny grew impatient. ‘It doesn’t matter what the hell kind of biscuit that lunatic asked for. The point is he broke in here and intimidated my wife. I want him arrested, Detective.’

  ‘Excuse me a minute.’ Jessie moved into the hallway to make a call. She wanted to order more bodies on the search for Gordon Angus. It seemed his obsession with Rachel was escalating. Dylan overheard her call.

  ‘What’s she doing?’ Rachel asked, her words a mere whisper.

  ‘She’s organising a search for Gordon,’ Dylan answered just as Jessie walked back in.

  ‘Right, that’s—’

  ‘We know – your colleague said you were arranging a search for Gordon.’ Rachel’s shoulders lowered as if she was relieved.

  ‘I want police protection up here at the house,’ Kenny boomed again.

  Jessie stared at him then inhaled a large breath. Kenny was not going to like what she had to do.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Ferguson,’ she began while she pulled the search warrant from her pocket.

  Rachel gasped when she spotted it. She knew exactly what it was and what it meant. She knew she was now a suspect.

  ‘Kenny,’ she cried out.

  Her shriek focused his attention on Jessie. He held up his hand then grabbed his phone from his pocket. Jessie feared this would happen.

  ‘I’m calling my solicitor. Do not move until I’ve spoken to them,’ Kenny ordered.

  Jessie lifted her shoulders and stood at her full five foot nine. She was glad to have Dylan’s full height with her too. She handed the piece of paper into Rachel’s trembling hand and walked away to the echo of Kenny’s protests.

  23

  ‘Gordon, where have you been?’ Arlene Angus rushed forward and took her son’s hands in hers. She knew he wouldn’t enjoy it but she pulled him close and hugged him to her chest. She didn’t want to let him go. Her conversation with that detective had opened so many old wounds. Arlene wanted her baby back. The baby who loved her. Not the teenager he became; not the cold, indifferent man he’d become. Arlene wanted to hold him there forever. She was so relieved he was OK. When that Detective Blake said Gordon was missing, all kinds of horrific scenarios had rushed through her mind. Gordon didn’t see the world the way other people did.

  Gordon looked over his mum’s shoulder at his dad lying on the hospital bed with wires coming out of his arms and an oxygen mask over his face. He pulled out of her embrace and moved forward, then stood next to the bed and touched Tommy’s wrist with his fingers. His skin was warmer than he expected.

  ‘Sit down, son.’

  Arlene’s voice carried from the doorway and Gordon followed her instruction automatically. He looked around to see her smiling at him.

  ‘Talk to him. The nurse says he can probably hear us. Tell him you’re there.’

  Arlene’s words faded into another round of sobs. Gordon frowned at her then turned his focus back to his dad.

  ‘Dad,’ Gordon said and patted Tommy’s arm. He looked up and down his dad’s motionless body then lifted his arm and shook it. ‘Dad,’ he shouted.

  Arlene laid her hand on Gordon’s shoulder. ‘Not quite so loud.’

  Gordon looked up into her eyes, his own pale ones narrowed.

  ‘But he didn’t hear me when I said it quietly.’

  Arlene sighed then whispered. ‘I know, I know. It’s OK, Gordon, just hold his hand.’

  She dropped her body into the empty chair next to him and reached for Gordon’s hand to place it on top of Tommy’s. She rested her own on top of both of them. The family sat in silence while the beeping continued to show that Tommy still had life left to fight for.

  Arlene watched her son look at his father and thought about what that detective had told her about Malcolm and Jean’s murder. She thought about the will. If Tommy knew about the changes Malcolm had wanted to make he would have been so humiliated. It was maybe good that it wasn’t signed off before he died, despite the fact she knew Tommy would drink it all away within months. Now it was unclear whether Tommy would ever do anything again, let alone have another drink.

 
‘Dad.’

  Arlene looked up to see Tommy’s eyes flicker then burst open before they narrowed sharply.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Tommy tried to sit up but fell back onto the pillow with each attempt.

  ‘Shh, it’s OK – just relax. You’ve been involved in an accident,’ Arlene told him. ‘You’ve been unconscious for twenty-four hours.’

  Tommy tried to focus. ‘Arlene? What are you doing here?’ His fingers tugged at the oxygen mask.

  Arlene leaned over him. ‘Leave that. You need that just now.’

  Tommy pressed his fingers on the IV cannulae in his hands. ‘I don’t understand. What’s happened to me? Why am I here?’ He scrunched up his eyes against the searing pain that grew in his head. ‘Argh, my head really hurts.’

  ‘Gordon, go and get one of the nurses,’ Arlene instructed.

  ‘OK.’ Gordon stood up without question. ‘What do I say to her?’

  Arlene sighed. ‘Just tell her your dad needs help.’

  Gordon nodded and walked out of the side room.

  Tommy held his head in his hands and tried to control his breathing. He’d never felt pain like it.

  ‘You were hit by a car. Do you remember anything about that?’ Arlene informed him.

  Tommy shook his head at her question. ‘No.’ He lay back on the pillow and squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Close the blinds. That light is hurting my eyes.’