by Carol Wyer
Although the man seemed genuinely remorseful, Kate couldn’t understand why he’d kept his distance from his only daughter, especially given she’d already lost her mother. Her own father would never have behaved that way and although Ellen and Tilly had come into their lives, she’d always shared a special closeness with him. Were these tears for the loss of a daughter, or tears of regret for the man who couldn’t turn back the clock and make amends?
The front door handle rattled and a tubby man stepped into the flat. The plastic carrier bags dropped onto the carpet with soft thuds and he yanked off his beanie hat to reveal ginger hair, the same colour as his full beard. His eyes flicked to Kate and Emma, then to his partner.
‘Richard? What’s going on?’
‘It’s Laura. She’s been . . . murdered.’
‘Oh my Lord! No!’
He hurtled towards his boyfriend, dropped onto the settee and put solid arms around him. Richard sobbed into his shoulder.
‘How well did you know Laura, sir?’ Kate asked, even though she could already guess the response.
‘Hardly at all. She hated the fact her father had moved on and found love again, so she invariably visited when I was out at work. But this . . . this is dreadful news.’
Kate placed a business card on the coffee table. ‘Another police officer will be with you very shortly. My personal number is on the card should you wish to talk to me at any time during the investigation. Again, I’d like to say how very sorry I am to bring you such bad news.’
Emma snapped her seatbelt into place with a firm click. ‘It sounds to me as if Laura had some sort of breakdown after her relationship ended. I can’t imagine why else she’d jack in a decent job, race off to live in a backwater place like Abbots Bromley, and not even tell her father where she’d gone. And it would help account for her sudden shoplifting episode.’
‘She might have shoplifted before and not been caught. However, I agree with you. It sounds as if she was struggling with everything, and going to Abbots Bromley meant she could start afresh. It would help if we could speak to her ex.’ Branches, stirred by a sudden gust of wind, caused leaves, like golden confetti, to tumble against the windscreen. ‘I know she didn’t exactly see eye to eye with her dad, but why all the secrecy and denial? She could simply have revealed she was seeing somebody without going into too many details.’
Kate’s mobile vibrated again. A quick glance at the message sent her nerves tingling when she realised who it was from.
Dad wants to talk to you, urgently.
Sierra.
Sierra Monroe’s father, Cooper, was in jail for concealing the body of the teenaged sex worker murdered at the gentlemen’s club that Chris had been investigating. If Cooper wanted to see her, it could only be because he had something important to tell her. Throughout questioning, the ex-SAS serviceman had claimed he’d told them everything; however, Kate had seen something in his face and was convinced he was in possession of information he couldn’t or wouldn’t share. The fact he now wanted to speak to her urgently suggested she’d been right and, at last, he was going to spill. He might even provide the breakthrough she’d been hoping for – something on Dickson, who had been staying at the club on the night of the murder. Yes! Emma glanced in her direction but she shoved the phone in her pocket and maintained a poker face. Cooper was unconnected to their current investigation and her priority had to be this case. For the moment, he’d have to wait.
CHAPTER FOUR
He drops a lit match onto the petrol-soaked objects and, watching the flames lick around Laura’s personal possessions, he pops open the can of beer.
Like father, like son.
The familiar memory surfaces to mingle with the flames and he is transported in time . . .
He stands in the corridor, eye to the keyhole where he has a clear sight of the scene unfolding behind his half-sister’s bedroom door. He doesn’t shift from the crouched position for fear of alerting his father to his presence, even though his father is distracted. His half-sister, her face almost hidden by her shining chestnut hair, tugs at the bottom of her long T-shirt.
‘What do you say to me?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Sorry, what?’
‘Sorry, Daddy.’
‘Louder!’
‘Sorry, Daddy.’
Her eyes, the colour of dark cocoa powder, melt with tears, but his father slaps her cheek and her hand rushes to the patch, releasing her grip on her clothing, which rises up to reveal naked flesh. He can’t see what happens next but suddenly his father pushes her face into the bed and drops his trousers.
His heart hammers with a mixture of excitement and terror. His father’s face contorts from an angry sneer into a mask of ecstasy. Each thrust is accompanied by a low, angry grunt until his mouth drops open wide and he lifts his head to the ceiling, giving a mighty roar of exultation. The boy knows what will happen next. He’s seen the same performance time and time again. His half-sister is only thirteen, but she will keep her mouth shut if she knows what’s good for her.
His father puts a large hand around her throat and squeezes slightly. Her eyes stare wildly at him. ‘You know what will happen if you say a word.’
‘Yes, Daddy.’
‘Good girl. You belong to me. Remember that – you’re mine!’
He slips away silently. One day, he will be as powerful as his father.
The childhood memory fades and he sips his beer while bright flames engulf Laura’s wallet and other contents from her bag, including her mobile phone. Once the ashes have cooled, he’ll bury them in the garden. He left nothing at the car park to identify her and although he knows the police will eventually find out who she is, he bought himself some time.
It’s only been a few hours since he attacked Laura, yet try as he might, he can’t savour the usual gratification when recalling the event or the terrified look on his victims’ faces. With her delicate features, beautiful eyes and slim body, she’d almost been the perfect embodiment of his first love. Then she’d broken the spell by spitting at him instead of letting him play out his fantasy of wrapping his hands around her throat, and he’d lost control. Instead of releasing her with words and memories to haunt her for the rest of her life, he’d expunged her life force.
It was an unfortunate accident. Some say watching the life drain from another human being is the most powerful feeling imaginable, but it hadn’t been for him. He’d felt disgusted, not by what had happened, but with Laura. He’d kicked at her floppy limbs and cursed her. She was useless to him. By dying, she had ruined the enactment. She was supposed to be the perfect stand-in for his first love, the one he truly wanted, and now he’ll have to move on to another replacement. Although, if he plays his cards right, he might not have to keep finding substitutes, because he will be able to woo his first love back to him and this time, she won’t get away.
CHAPTER FIVE
Kate clomped into the workspace she shared with her team: a pathetically inadequate room with desks jammed in so close together, it required contortionist abilities to pass between them. She’d requested a larger space, only to be informed the budget wouldn’t extend to relocating her unit. Her original office had been more spacious and modern. She had her suspicions that keeping her boxed up in such inferior quarters was part of Superintendent Dickson’s efforts to wear her down and push her to request a transfer, or even resign from the force. Although Kate couldn’t prove anything yet, she suspected Dickson was trying to wear her down before she could uncover information to link him to the death of the sex worker, or to Chris’s death. He was playing a game of cat and mouse with her, ensuring she was aware he was in control. Not only had he kept her shut away, he’d not allowed her to resume command of her old unit; however, being Kate, she was determined to rise above it and not let him see it was getting to her. She could work anywhere. Space wasn’t important. What mattered most were the members of her team, and hers were level-headed, dedicated officers. She would let Di
ckson continue to believe he held all the cards. If she didn’t keep up the pretence, her own life could well be in danger.
In one corner, an untidy stack of files on a cabinet towered behind Jamie’s close-shaven head, threatening to topple onto him. Oblivious to the chaos, he lifted a home-made egg sandwich from a plastic container, eyes pinned to a Facebook page on the computer screen. A strip light, the sole source of light in the room, hummed constantly above him. Kate pulled her chair across, stood on it and tapped the end of the light until the noise abated.
‘Thanks, guv. I hit it earlier but it started up again. Bloody thing needs replacing,’ said Jamie.
‘I’ll ask maintenance again to sort it. How far have you got?’
‘I managed to collect details on several of her Facebook friends, those she had the most contact with. She seems to have been closest to a paediatric nurse at Stoke Hospital, name of Alicia McCarty.’ He held up a sticky note. ‘And I have something else interesting here. It’s a private conversation between Alicia and Laura in which Alicia mentions a bloke called Kevin. He might be the reason Laura deleted her old posts.’
Kate shimmied past Emma to Jamie’s desk and crouched down to read the message.
Alicia: Good to have you back on FB, babe. You feeling better?
Laura: Yeah, it was about time I pulled myself together again.
Alicia: I see you blocked Kevin.
Laura: I didn’t want him screwing up my life again.
Alicia: Stupid bastard. You should have blocked him when he first started leaving those bloody hearts under every picture.
Laura: I know.
Alicia: He was always a tosser, even when we were at school.
Laura: I felt sorry for him.
Alicia: I know, babe. You’re far too nice. You fancy meeting at Enzo’s later for a drink to celebrate you being back on social media?
Laura: What time?
Alicia: Six.
Laura: See you then.
Jamie waited until she’d finished before continuing with ‘I checked school records and uncovered a Kevin Shire who was in the same year as Laura and Alicia. It must be him they’re talking about, and . . . he lives only five miles away from Abbots Bromley, in another village: Hamstall Ridware.’
‘Then I want an address and contact details for this man as well.’
Jamie turned his attention to the task, pausing only to wipe egg from the desk with his thumb.
Kate headed back to her corner, once again, skirting around Emma, her mobile locked in position between ear and neck as she talked quietly and typed simultaneously. Kate’s team was experienced. She had no qualms they wouldn’t follow procedure and work efficiently. The next few hours would be critical for gathering information if they wanted to apprehend the attacker quickly and, judging by the serious faces in the office, everyone wanted that result. Kate eased into the corridor to ring Alicia. The voice at the other end was light and melodic.
‘Hello, Alicia McCarty.’
‘Alicia, this is DI Kate Young from Stoke-on-Trent station. I’m afraid I have some bad news concerning one of your friends, Laura Dean.’
‘What’s happened to her? Is she okay?’
‘I’m very sorry to tell you she was found dead this morning.’
There was a sharp intake of breath, a half-sob. ‘How? How did she die?’
‘We believe she was attacked on her way home from a yoga class. I really need to talk to you, Alicia. You might be able to help me find out who did this to her.’
‘This . . . can’t be happening.’ The groan was low and soft, filled with sorrow. Kate overheard concerned voices. A muffled voice replaced Alicia’s. Kate strained to hear what was happening, deduced the person was taking charge. There was more shuffling, the sound of possible scraping of chair legs across a tiled floor, mumbled thanks and Alicia was back on the line.
‘DI Young, are you still there?’
‘I’m here. Are you okay?’
‘Sorry, I came over dizzy and had to sit down. Somebody’s going to take me home.’
‘Where is home?’
Kate recognised the road, only a short drive from the hospital. ‘Would it be all right if I meet you there?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’ Alicia sounded vague, distant as the shock set in. This woman might be able to give them some answers and Kate couldn’t hold off.
‘I’ll be there in twenty minutes.’
Alicia was a tall, lean brunette, with a heart-shaped face and eyes that radiated warmth. She sat at her kitchen table, clenching a glass of water, and blinked back tears.
‘I still can’t believe it,’ she said.
‘Do you feel up to talking about Laura?’ asked Kate.
Alicia nodded.
‘What can you tell me about her?’
‘She was a gentle, kind person. I’ve known her for a long time. We’ve been best friends since school. Whenever I was on a downer, she’d let me rant or get drunk with me and when I was on a high, she’d laugh with me. She was a really good friend.’
‘Did you see her often?’
‘Even with my shifts, we always managed to meet up at least one night or lunchtime a week. And we chatted online most days.’
‘Facebook?’
‘Not so much on there. Mostly WhatsApp.’ She put down the glass of water and turned her attention to a thin leather bracelet, fiddling with it as she spoke. ‘What about her cat? Will somebody look after Charcoal?’
‘We haven’t been inside her house yet. Do you know if anyone had a spare set of keys to get in?’
She shook her head. ‘Laura was protective of her personal space. Nobody has a key, not even me.’
‘We’ll arrange for somebody to get in and collect the cat.’
‘She only got him a month ago. From the animal rescue centre in Ashbourne. Maybe they’d take him back.’ Her voice trailed off.
‘Don’t worry about Charcoal. We’ll sort him out.’
Alicia gave a small nod.
‘Do you know her father?’
‘Yes, but I haven’t seen him in years, not since her mum died.’
‘That must have been tough for them both.’ Visions of a younger Kate swam before her eyes. If it hadn’t been for her father, she’d have drowned in sorrow.
‘It was. Especially as they fell out soon after her mum died. Laura was in a bad way and struggling to come to terms with what had happened. She got it into her head that he was to blame for Megan getting cancer. At the time, I thought she was being over-dramatic and didn’t know how to help her, but now I understand why. She was simply going through one of the stages of grief.’
Kate was familiar with the five stages: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. In the wake of her parents’ deaths she’d faced them all.
‘Laura couldn’t accept Megan had just been an unfortunate victim to cancer and she hunted for a reason as to why she’d become ill. She settled on the fact there’d been a lot of tension and arguments in the weeks prior to Megan’s diagnosis. Her parents had been having marital difficulties and Laura was sure the stress of it all had brought on the cancer. She became really angry with her dad and was going to leave home, but she had nowhere to go, and eventually they patched things up. For a while, they got on well, better even than they had when Megan was alive, that was until she found out he’d been secretly seeing Steve. She walked out and stayed with me, until she could rent a place of her own. Things were never right after that. She rarely visited him.’
‘I suppose she felt let down.’
‘She felt duped. It might have been okay if her dad had just told her the truth instead of hiding it from her. Apparently, he and Steve had been in a relationship for some time before Laura found out. Laura was hurt and betrayed. That was the thing with Laura, she loved you with all her heart, but if you let her down, she couldn’t cope. She’d run off.’
Like Tilly, thought Kate. Many years ago, her stepsister had run away from her problems and now was doin
g the same thing by running from her husband.
‘Steve was the reason she kept contact with her dad to a minimum. Every time she saw his boyfriend, she was reminded that her dad had found love again, and forgotten all about Megan. It really ate into her.’
‘And you were at school together?’
‘That’s right. Same class.’
‘What can you tell me about Kevin Shire?’
‘Kevin!’
‘I understand from a conversation she had with you on Facebook, she’d been having difficulties with him.’
‘You read our conversation?’ Her eyes screwed up. ‘Is that even legal?’
‘It is when we’re investigating a murder. We have to look at every scrap of evidence available.’
‘I . . . suppose so. It seems a bit . . . Never mind. Kevin always had the hots for Laura at school and asked her out a few times. Laura wasn’t interested in the slightest – not in him or anyone. She didn’t want any relationship that would end up like her mum and dad’s, so she steered clear of them all. In the end, he gave up pestering her and we lost contact with Kevin until eight months ago, when we bumped into him at a school reunion. He was different . . . gentle, polite and seemed pleased to see us. He wasn’t up to mingling much, so he stuck with us all night. After a few drinks, we friended each other on Facebook. It didn’t seem like a big deal.’ She caressed the bracelet, fingers searching for the clasp, as she began to twirl it slowly around her narrow wrist.
‘At first, he only left the odd comment on her posts, then he started liking every photo Laura put up. We joked about it, saying she could have put up any old crap and he’d have liked it. Then he changed all the “likes” to “loves” and left little hearts under every photo, even those going back years. I told Laura he was beginning to act weirdly and that he might still have a crush on her. She wouldn’t have any of it, said the guy was lonely and unhappy, and she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by blocking him or telling him to stop. It wasn’t until he began sending private messages – poems and love song links – that she started to get creeped out. Then he FaceTimed her and asked her out. She told him she was seeing somebody else and he apologised, said he’d misread the signs but even so, he kept leaving those stupid love heart emojis and kisses under every picture of her.’
