by Linda Coles
“Something of interest. One of the lads found a clump of something in one of the upstairs bedrooms towards the back of the house. He wasn’t entirely sure what it was but had the brains to bag it anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Well, it turns out it’s a piece of gum.”
“That’s great! DNA. Who’s the hit?”
“Not so fast, Jack. It was contaminated, covered in soot and ash, but the fire did a good job of setting it, you could say. And there’s an impression on it, like when you have a crown made.”
“So no retrievable DNA, but it’s got an imprint of a tooth?”
“Correct. And it shows that whoever left the gum in that room has what we call a Carabelli cusp, or an extra cusp to you and me. And the filling has come out. It’s extremely distinctive and not at all common.” She let that sink in for a minute before carrying on. “So you’re looking for someone, probably male, who needs a dentist. Sorry I can’t give you more to go on as yet, but it’s a start. Maybe try local dentists first?”
Jack stared at the phone. He could think of someone straight away who fitted that description, and he chewed gum.
Dave Meadows.
Could it be so simple? It didn’t make sense. Leanne was his daughter. She’d been kidnapped and kept in a house where he’d visited. Had he known she was there? Jack’s stomach rolled at the thought – his own daughter, for heaven’s sake.
You know he knows Bernard Evans, Jack.
“Are you still there, Jack?” Coop asked him.
“Sorry, Janice. Yes. That’s actually rather useful. Today could be my lucky day.”
“Then buy yourself a lottery ticket. Glad to be of help. I hope you get the sick creep.”
“I’ll let you know when we do, and thanks again.”
He couldn’t believe it. Dave Meadows? But in order to prove it, that gum imprint needed to match the man who had now become a prime suspect in the case. He needed to talk to Morton and get a search warrant for Meadows’ dental records. He also wanted to find out if Meadows’ car had been caught in the vicinity, somewhere between his home and the crime scene, which was going to take hours of searching through CCTV tapes. There had to be a more efficient way to place him there. But then what? How was he involved, Jack wondered again? Customer or culprit? And now Jack had another problem – had Meadows alerted the two men? Was it too late? There was only one way to find out.
He dialled Eddie. No answer.
“Damn that man!”
Chapter Seventy-Two
He’d made it to the station in double-quick time. Eddie still wasn’t in, but most of the team were, including DI Morton; this in itself was unusual, but at that moment, Jack didn’t care. He stuck his head around the door. Morton was focusing on a pile of documents in front of him and, from where Jack stood, they looked like crime reports. And the handwriting looked familiar – it was his own.
Without looking up, Morton said, “Just the man, Jack. Come in. Sit down.”
“I need you to authorize a search warrant actually, boss.”
“That can wait a minute. I want to talk to you about your incomplete reports.” Morton picked a selection up from the pile and pointed at blank spaces and crossed-out passages. “These really aren’t good enough, Jack. They tell us bugger all, and, quite honestly, they look like a ten-year-old has filled them in.”
“I’m a tad busy at the moment, as you know.” Jack was doing his best to stay calm, but he was in a rush. He wanted that warrant, and paperwork was not a priority. Not right now. It would be best to agree and move on. “I’ll do better. Once this case is done and out of the way, I’ll pay more attention to it.”
“I need to finalise my own month-end reporting, Jack. I need the info promptly. Can you get it done today?”
“In all honesty, no. I’ve bigger fish to fry. I’ve got a real lead on who else was in that house with the girls, and I want him in for questioning but I need a warrant first for his dental records.”
Morton sighed, focusing again on the reports in front of him like they were the most important thing in the world. Paperwork was the bane of many officers’ and detectives’ lives, and while everyone knew it needed to be kept on top of, everyone really had better things to do with their time. Like catch paedophiles.
“I understand that, Jack. And I’ll get you the warrant. Then will you give me properly completed reports?”
It was easiest to say yes, so he did. Strictly speaking, Morton hadn’t stipulated a deadline.
“So tell me the story. What are you and Eddie up to?”
Jack resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the mention of Eddie’s name, and set to with a progress report, concluding with the fact that the case was close to coming to an end.
“Good. That’s what I like to hear. And breaking a ring like that – that’s marvellous news. The chief will be pleased. Well done, Jack. Pass on my thanks to Eddie, will you?”
Jack nodded, biting back a retort. The man was a buffoon; he’d no clue what was going on outside of his tiny betting world. Wordlessly, he headed to the coffee cupboard to fix himself a strong one and try and calm himself down, not that caffeine would do that. The room was empty, so he pushed the door closed and stood resting his forehead on it in an attempt to regulate his breathing. That turned out to be a stupid move. A moment later Mo barged in, sending the full force of the wooden door into his nose and making Jack yell out in pain.
Mo was the colour of a Valentine rose in seconds as blood streamed down Jack’s chin. He grabbed the grubby tea towel nearby to catch the worst of it as Mo shrieked into her hands and flitted from one foot to the other, unsure how to make the situation right. When she’d calmed, she apologised and swapped Jack’s drenched towel for a fresh but damp one in an effort to clean him up.
When he could finally speak and Mo stopped dithering, he told her about the development and the need for CCTV footage, something to place Meadows at the scene.
“I’ll get right on to it. Now, are you sure you’re alright?”
Jack stood with his head tilted back slightly, his fingers pinching his nose. He nodded slightly, then asked, “Were you looking for me before you beat me up, or was you wanting a coffee?”
“Both. But please don’t tell everyone I beat you up.” Mo looked panic-stricken at the thought.
He let her off his hook. “I’m having you on, Mo. Of course, I won’t tell people that.” He did his best to smile and make her feel better. “Tell me, then. What did you want?”
“Remember the young girl done for shoplifting the sausage rolls, Chloe Mathews?”
How could Jack forget? “Yes? What about her?”
“Well, they processed her as they would do, so her DNA is now in the system.”
Jack was beginning to feel exasperated as he took a deep breath.
“Mo, this is like a conversation by crossword puzzle. What are you trying to tell me?”
“That her DNA matches another case you’ve been working on,” she blurted. “Baby Mary. Chloe Mathews has the DNA to be the baby’s mother.”
“I thought we had a match for that, although Leanne Meadows hadn’t been pregnant and couldn’t possibly be the mother. So, has there been a mismatch somewhere?”
“Well, it looks like there is another explanation – I checked back before coming to you. Both Leanne Meadows and Chloe Mathews have the exact same DNA. They are identical twins, Jack. So Chloe must be the mother, not Leanne.”
Jack stood stock still, trying to process what she was saying. Yes, it made perfect sense, but Penny Meadows had told him that although Leanne had indeed had a sister, she’d died. Nobody had mentioned her being a twin. Jack had assumed the child has been born after Leanne, and had then died somehow. Shit! Why had he assumed and not asked?
“Crikey. How about that? So Leanne’s identical twin is still alive! Holy shit.”
He and Mo stood in silence, absorbing the news and what it meant, not only for Chloe but for Leanne and the wider Meadows
family too.
They’d regained a family member. Two if you added in baby Mary.
“That will be why I recognized they both had the same look when they were upset, because they are sisters, and if Chloe grew her hair and lightened it . . .” He paused. “Yes! I see it now. How could I not see it before?” He slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand.
“You’ve been caught up with the bigger case, Jack, not looking at finding Mary’s mother,” Mo reminded him. “It wasn’t your priority.”
Then the rest of the puzzle fell into place, and Jack groaned out loud. “Oh, hell, no! It couldn’t be!”
He stood and started to pace in the tiny room as best he could without bumping into Mo. Her face had gone pale, and he saw she’d come to the same horrific conclusion.
“So Dave Meadows is the father after all, only he doesn’t know that Chloe was, is in fact, his other daughter, because he believed she’d died. The girls must have been separated early on, then, at birth maybe.”
“Exactly. What a bloody mess. Not only is Dave Meadows the baby’s father, but that makes the three girls sisters and half-sisters, as well as Leanne being Mary’s aunt. Dave Meadows should be the grandfather to Chloe’s child, not the bloody father!”
How the hell was he going to handle it from here on in, Jack wondered miserably. Poor Penny Meadows. She had more than a few shocks coming to her, as did Leanne and Chloe. Mary would be oblivious for the foreseeable future, thankfully. But Dave?
He was in deep shit no matter how you looked at it. And he deserved every sloppy ounce of it, right up past his ears if Jack had his way.
“Don’t say a word yet, Mo,” Jack said, collecting himself. “I need some air. You get on to the CCTV footage for Meadows’ car while I think on the next move. Lips sealed, eh?”
“You can count on me. I won’t say a word.”
Jack wiped his nose with the back of his hand and made his way to the back door, avoiding the looks he knew he was getting. He looked a state. His shirt was splotched with blood, though at least it was his own.
He stood in the cold air, breathing evenly. He needed to plan his next steps carefully.
Chapter Seventy-Three
The walk did him good. As did the bacon sandwich from the food van up the road. But his waistline wasn’t his concern at the moment and neither was his paperwork, so both would have to wait. His bloodied shirt, however, was a different issue, and he figured he’d better get changed into a fresh one before he did much else. So, instead of going back into the station, he slipped into his car and headed into the town centre. In the back of his mind, he had an inkling about what to do first, and that involved finding Billy. He hoped he’d set his stall up somewhere close to the charity shop.
Sometimes the gods aligned and things fell into place, and as he pulled into the curb a couple of doors down from the shop, he could see Billy up ahead chatting to an older woman. He sat and watched her body language, the way her head was cocked to one side listening intently to what he was saying. After a few moments, she broke out into a smile that matched Billy’s. She handed him something, probably some change, Jack figured, and Billy shook her hand. A moment later, she was on her way, pulling a shopping trolley along behind her like a tired old dog.
Jack got out of the car and made his way over. Billy saw him and waved excitedly, then changed his expression when he noticed Jack’s shirt.
“What happened, Detective? Someone get a bit feisty this morning?”
“You could say that. I had an altercation with a door in the coffee room and got myself a nosebleed.”
“You want to get that changed, my friend,” Billy suggested. “Not a good look for a copper. You look like you’ve been fighting.” He added his cheeky smile and Jack tried one in return. “But you didn’t come here to talk about your nose, I’m thinking,” Billy went on. “What’s up?” His face had turned serious now.
“Let me buy you something to eat and a coffee. I need to ask you something.”
“I won’t turn that down,” Billy said, gathering his few belongings and putting his hard-earned change into his pocket. “There’s a place around the corner,” he said, indicating the direction they should walk in, and they set off. As they approached the café in silence, Jack realized where they were headed. Up ahead was a greasy-spoon – Roy’s Café. He must have thought long and hard to come up with such a clever name for his business, Jack thought sardonically. He half expected to hear a bell tinkling above his head when he opened the door, but there was none. He closed the door behind them and they headed for a table. Decorated sometime in the eighties, the café was due for a repaint at least, but it was warm and the aroma of cooked bacon hung in the air. Jack was tempted to have another sandwich.
“Right, Billy, Big Breakfast, I’m assuming? Pot of tea?”
Judging by the boy’s smile, there was no need for another form of confirmation, so Jack made his way to the counter to order. A man in his forties wearing an apron greeted him. The name “Roy” was embroidered on his shirt pocket, telling Jack he was the owner of Roy’s Café. The man glanced at Jack’s bloodstained shirt but didn’t comment. He really must get it changed soon.
“Hello. A friend of Billy’s?” Roy enquired, somewhat suspiciously, Jack thought. Or protectively.
“I like to think so,” said Jack. “Thought I’d feed him up a bit. You?”
“I look out for him a bit, and his Chloe too. A nice young couple.”
“So you must be Roy, the owner,” said Jack, holding his hand out to shake. “Billy said he was spending Christmas Day with you. I’ve just put two and two together,” he said, smiling, though he’d already deduced as much when he’d first seen the café.
“Didn’t like to think of them both alone, and I’m on my own, so it worked out.”
“And with Chloe having given birth not long ago, she in particular would have appreciated that.”
It was a daring move on Jack’s part, but one that paid off. Roy stared straight at Jack, a look of “How did you know?” on his face, and that was all he needed for confirmation.
Neither man spoke for a moment, then Jack said, “Billy’s having the Big Breakfast and tea, and I’ll have a tea, thanks. And a slice of toast on the side.” Jack beamed at Roy, and no more was said about anything as he paid for the food and headed back to Billy.
So, Chloe was indeed Mary’s mother – that much he’d had confirmed. Now he had to put the pieces together and somehow make sense of it all.
“So, what did you want to ask me?” Billy asked.
Since Jack already had the answer to his question, he had to think of something else fast.
“I wondered how Chloe was, that’s all. Behaving herself, I hope,” Jack said to Billy with a grin.
Saved.
“Yes, she’s fine, and thanks for your help there, Jack. She doesn’t need grief on top of everything else.”
Everything else? Jack wondered if he should ask, but decided to leave it alone. There was no sense in causing more upset by exposing what was obviously their secret. He hoped Roy wouldn’t say anything to the authorities about Chloe abandoning her baby until this was all sorted out, and since he seemed like the caring sort, he felt confident of that. And Jack was the authorities anyhow.
“You’re welcome, Billy, though I can’t help a second time, so remember that, eh?” He nodded as Roy placed a Big Breakfast down in front of the boy, and a plate of toast for Jack. It was both the distraction they needed and the ideal opportunity to change the subject to something less serious.
“How’s the Hansen’s disease going, then, Billy? Trade picking up?” he asked, biting into a slice of buttered toast.
Chapter Seventy-Four
It’s a beautiful new day.
Jack was finally beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel – and it was no longer an oncoming train. Since his run-in, quite literally, with Mo and his meeting with Billy, he had almost every piece of the Meadows’ puzzle figured o
ut and a good chunk of the other, though Leanne and her family were still blissfully unaware of the crossover they were involved in and the upset and hell that was yet to come. He’d spent a couple of hours talking with Eddie over a pint about how best to move forward, and they had decided on their strategy with Dave Meadows at least. Then, against his normal way of doing things, he had asked for Janine’s advice as well, giving her the broad outline, no names. As a woman, she had a different perspective to offer, which he valued; he wanted to make things as easy as possible for Mrs Meadows when the time came to tell her.
It seemed “Sausage man,” or Bernard Evans as he was legally known, had indeed buggered off to France and, according to the border patrol, had crossed over on Boxing Day , which, as it happened, was long before they were properly aware of him and what he stood for. It was now a cross-borders affair, which made dragging him in for questioning somewhat more difficult – far from ideal.
Rob Styles, on the other hand, hadn’t been as thoughtful in his getaway and was lazing in his mother’s flat watching television when Jack’s colleagues knocked on the front door. He was now sat uncomfortably in cell number two with a plastic cup of water for company, awaiting his solicitor and his chance to explain. Jack knew by the man’s actions that he’d be singing like a budgie to reduce his sentence. He was already pacing his cell like a cat on a hot tin roof. There was no way he’d enjoy life behind bars, where he’d be on offer to his cellmates as a sex object. Paedophiles were not treated well by fellow inmates, even on remand. Meanwhile, there was still work to be done to find their wanted man, who, if he had any brains at all, would now be travelling under a new name with new papers. And in that case, it would be almost impossible to locate him until he offended again.
That left the Meadows debacle. And right now, Jack and Eddie were on their way to arrest Dave Meadows and bring him in for official and in-depth questioning back at the station. The man would find himself booked into cell number three for the night if all went according to plan.
