by Caz Finlay
Leigh shrugged. ‘Lots of reasons. Maybe that first kill sustained him for a while. Maybe he was in prison for something else? Maybe something happened to trigger him again? We can’t be sure about why, but I think there’s a good chance we’re dealing with the same perp. There are too many similarities to be a coincidence.’
Grace took another sip of her coffee before she spoke again. ‘That’s all very interesting, but I’m still not sure why you think this particular bit of information is of relevance to me.’
Leigh took a deep breath. ‘I worked on a case a few years ago. A people-trafficking ring. It was a huge collaboration between Merseyside and Manchester police and it was a huge success for the most part. We put a lot of people away for a very long time…’
‘But?’
‘I was never confident that we got them all. From what my colleague tells me, this Melanie Simmonds had connections to the trafficking victims. She was known to be provided as entertainment for some of the same parties as them. The investigation into her murder didn’t focus on a potential link to the trafficking case, because most people believe that all of the major players were put away, and also because it appeared to be an isolated incident and an emotional, impulsive crime rather than one that was planned. But we now know that this is the killer’s MO. We know that the victims were abused, possibly even tortured, for at least a week prior to their deaths, and the fact that there is so little evidence left behind by the killer suggests a high degree of planning. However, if you were to look at each case as an isolated incident, then they could well be perceived as crimes of passion, where the perp had simply made a good job of covering his tracks. The strangulation and blunt force trauma each of the women suffered could well point to an impulsive act.’
‘How does this link to the trafficking case though?’ Grace asked as she sat forward in her seat.
‘Well, I don’t believe in coincidences. Melanie had a link to the trafficking victims. She may well have known things that she shouldn’t have. Crucial information about people who would do anything to stop that ever coming out.’
‘So, she was killed before she could talk?’ Grace said as the pieces of the puzzle Leigh was laying out for her slowly started to slot into place. Whether that was the right place was another matter entirely.
‘Exactly,’ Leigh said. ‘Melanie turns up dead in some alleyway just a few months after the trial ends. Apparently, she hadn’t been seen around her usual haunts in the months preceding her death. Rumour was that she checked into rehab and got herself clean. But when her body was discovered she had excessive amounts of crack cocaine and heroin in her system, just like our victims. The investigation assumed she had relapsed and gone back on the game to fund her habit. But what if she’d been in hiding and they found her?’
‘That’s an interesting theory, Leigh,’ Grace conceded. ‘But I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with me?’
Leigh’s face flushed and she took a quick sip of her coffee. ‘Right. Let me get to that. I believe one of the ones who got away was none other than our mutual friend Sol Shepherd.’
‘Sol?’ Grace said as she sat back against the leather seat in the booth. ‘But he’s dead,’ Grace said with a frown. Sol Shepherd had once been an associate of Grace’s, and Michael had even worked for him back in the day. But last year, he had been responsible for ordering a hit that had cost Michael’s son Paul his life, and Michael had sought him out and put a bullet in his head. Connor had in fact been the intended target, not that that fact was common knowledge, but it had been Paul that the shooter had seen that day and assumed was his identical twin. It had intended to be payback for Connor’s affair with Jazz, who was married to Sol at the time.
‘I know he is. But he wasn’t when Melanie was murdered. And I think he had something to do with Melanie’s murder. If we follow the trail of breadcrumbs from Sol Shepherd, I think we’ll eventually find our killer.’
‘I wouldn’t put it past him. He was involved in all kinds, including trafficking from what I’d heard. But he’s dead! Where are you going to start?’ Grace asked, fearing she already knew the answer.
‘Jasmine?’ Leigh said quietly, confirming Grace’s suspicion.
‘Jazz doesn’t know anything about any woman being murdered,’ Grace said, feeling suddenly very protective of her soon-to-be daughter-in-law.
‘How do you know that? How do you know what she does or doesn’t know about her former husband’s empire? She was married to him for seven years.’
‘But that doesn’t mean she knows anything. Sol wasn’t likely to tell her. Did you ever meet him? He was a misogynistic pig.’
‘That may be, but Jasmine strikes me as a smart woman. Don’t tell me you honestly believe she didn’t make it her business to have some dirt on her husband should she ever need it? I appreciate that she’s been through a lot these past few months, but I only want to speak to her. You can even be with her if that would make you both feel better. She may know something that she doesn’t even realise is important. You know as well as I do that sometimes the most seemingly insignificant information can be the key missing piece of a puzzle.’
Grace looked at Leigh as she considered what she was asking of her. It was true that Jazz had had a tough couple of months. She had almost died after giving birth to Paul junior. She was adjusting to becoming a new mum. She was dealing with the aftermath of Sol’s death whilst processing the guilt, albeit misplaced, that she was responsible somehow for the death of Connor’s brother and Michael’s son. She had been present when Michael had killed Sol, and they had both sworn that they would never tell Connor that he had been the intended target for the paid hitman that day. But Grace also knew that Jazz was indeed very astute. She was bright and shrewd and savvy, and Grace had no doubt that there was a strong possibility that Jazz would have known more about Sol’s business than some of his closest associates.
‘I’ll speak to her, but I’m not promising anything. If she doesn’t want to talk to you then I’m not going to force the issue. She’s not a fan of the police, as you can imagine.’
Leigh rolled her eyes. ‘Are any of your family fans of the police?’
Grace smiled at her. ‘I suppose not.’
Grace drained the last of her coffee and was about to leave when she remembered her earlier conversation with Stacey. She assumed Stacey’s name was on the list of children who had been at the home when Nerys and the other victims were, so she didn’t want to drag her into the investigation if the police hadn’t, but she did think it was worth telling Leigh about Nerys’s childhood friend. ‘I meant to mention. Did you interview anyone called Stuart or Steven about Nerys’s disappearance?’
‘I’d have to check my notes. The team did most of the interviews. I can’t recall a Stuart or a Steven standing out. Why do you ask?’
‘Apparently Nerys was friendly with him, that was all. They used to listen to jazz records together in the attic.’
‘Oh? How did you come by this information?’
‘It’s not important,’ Grace said, feeling the need to protect Stacey for some reason. ‘I’d tell you if I thought it was.’
Leigh frowned. ‘But how do you know it’s not important, Grace? It could be.’
‘It’s information from someone who wouldn’t be likely to give it to you. That’s all I’m prepared to say.’
‘I suppose I should be grateful for any information?’ Leigh said with a hint of sarcasm.
‘Exactly,’ Grace replied. ‘Now, I need to go and pick up my children.’
‘Speaking of which,’ Leigh said. ‘We put a rush job on the DNA of the tooth we found embedded in Nerys’s wrist. It belonged to her daughter.’
‘So she was telling the truth then? But how could she hide the birth of a child? And where is the little girl now?’ Grace asked.
Leigh shook her head. ‘I have no idea. But Nerys must have been in contact with her recently to have had the tooth in her possession.’
&nb
sp; Grace felt the bile rise in her stomach. ‘Oh, God, you don’t think—’ she started, but was unable to finish the question. It was too awful to contemplate. Leigh had just been talking about trafficked women and children and now here was a child who for all intents and purposes, didn’t even exist. Grace was aware she was no angel and she knew of the lengths that some of her employees would go to in order to ensure that her businesses continued operating smoothly. As a rule, violence against women was something she didn’t tolerate and she made that known. But anything involving children was a line that she would never cross, and if any of her employees did, then they would find themselves on the receiving end of her wrath. Suddenly, she thought of Belle and Oscar, and the idea of someone hurting them, or any child, made her feel sick to her stomach.
‘Right now, I don’t know what to think,’ Leigh said.
Grace shook her head. She could have stayed and talked longer, but she really did need to pick Oscar up. ‘I’ll speak to Jazz,’ she said as she stood up.
Leigh nodded. ‘Thank you.’
Chapter Sixteen
Joey Parnell pulled the car into the dirt track that led to the old farmhouse. The building loomed into view as he approached and he cursed under his breath as he realised he hadn’t left the torch outside the front door. The whole place was in darkness and without his torch, he struggled with the mortice lock. He would have to use the light from his phone instead.
The old farmhouse was a huge stone structure, built some time in the 1820s and set in the middle of two square acres of land. It was a one-storey building with a large concrete basement complex. In short, it was the perfect place to hold a prisoner – or two. The property belonged to JB and had been in his family for generations. Joey had first visited the place eight years earlier for a ‘party’ hosted by a mutual acquaintance of theirs, Sol Shepherd. It was the kind of party that not just anyone got an invite to; in fact invites cost upwards of a few thousand pounds and JB was paid very well for the use of his property. Not only that, he liked to partake himself. The women and girls for such events were provided by Simon Jones, whom Joey had been padded up with for a few months in Strangeways. It was during this stint inside that he and Simon had discovered they shared certain predilections, including a fondness for teenage girls and bondage.
Joey had been serving two years for breaking his girlfriend’s jaw. She’d tried to claim rape as well, but they hadn’t been able to make that stick. She’d been seventeen, which was perfectly legal in the eyes of the law, but nevertheless, the other prisoners had had it in for him from the minute he’d stepped foot inside the place and he’d ended up on the vulnerable prisoners’ wing, where he’d met Simon.
Simon had bragged to him all about the work he did and talked about his bosses being incredibly powerful men. It was Simon’s job to procure women and girls for his employers and their associates. Having been forced to leave Liverpool, Joey had been struggling for work and money, so Simon promised an introduction to one of these men. That was how, just two months after he got out, Joey had ended up working for Sol Shepherd, one of the biggest gangsters in Manchester’s history. Sol had his finger in every single pie there was. But he didn’t particularly like being known for his part in the sex-trafficking trade, so he distanced himself from it, and paid other people to handle that side of his business. As it happened, Joey had been released from prison just as an opening had arisen. His job was to ensure that the girls they loaned out were returned relatively unharmed, at least unharmed enough that they wouldn’t be out of action for more than a day or two. He ferried them to the various parties where they were provided as entertainment. He was basically their bodyguard and their chauffeur, and he was paid well for his services. Not only that, he got to sample the merchandise himself whenever he fancied. Joey had thought he had it made. Then he had met JB, and his sexual proclivities made Sol and Simon look like choirboys.
JB was the most charismatic and powerful man Joey had ever met. Even Sol was wary of him. Joey could sense as soon as he met him that JB was the man with the real power. It wasn’t long before Joey had attracted JB’s attention with his diligence and love of his job, and soon he was working for both Sol and JB – and that was where the real money was to be made. Before long, it was Joey who was organising the parties. Simon Jones continued to provide some of the girls for entertainment, but for certain clients, Sol and JB also drafted in some of their own – women who had been smuggled into the country illegally, and who wouldn’t be missed should they happen to disappear.
JB had always looked after Joey. When he’d been sent down again for another assault, this time against a man who’d tried it on with one of his girlfriends, JB had made sure his time inside had been comfortable and passed without incident.
Joey turned off the engine of his car and stepped out into the rain. Using the flashlight on his phone, he managed to open the locks on the door without dropping his keys in the mud. Pushing open the door, he stepped inside, stamping his muddy boots on the raffia welcome mat. He switched on the electric light beside him and made his way over to the hearth to light the fire. The house was always freezing cold when he’d been away for a few days, but the large coal fire soon warmed the small room he had made his living quarters. He didn’t stay at the farmhouse every night. He was trying to establish his security business again and he couldn’t operate from the farmhouse. There was a very poor phone signal for a start and he couldn’t exactly give out the address. While its remoteness came in handy for some tasks, it wasn’t a place he could run a business from. He had his own flat in Crosby with glorious views of the sea, and as much as he enjoyed the job he was undertaking for JB, he preferred his creature comforts.
Joey lit the fire and rubbed his hands together for warmth. He looked over at the large steel door and smiled. There was only one girl left, and she would be downstairs waiting for him. He had left a small light on and a few days’ supply of water and snacks. He wasn’t a complete monster. It was almost time for him to see if Anna Martinez knew where this damned memory card was. He doubted that she did. In the days he’d been holding her captive, she had told him everything about her life, but she insisted she knew nothing about any video recording and Joey believed her. He was beginning to believe that Simon Jones had thrown the four women who’d been there that night under the bus to save his own skin. Joey shook his head in disgust. How had he let himself be blagged by Simon Jones? It was bloody infuriating. Not only had Simon now disappeared without a trace, he quite probably had in his possession a memory card that could put both Joey and JB inside for a very long time. And if that wasn’t bad enough, Simon had made Joey look bad in front of JB, and that just wouldn’t do.
Chapter Seventeen
Grace looked down at the sleeping face of her grandson Paul – the newest addition to the Carter family. He was adorable. His long dark eyelashes rested on his chubby cheeks as he snored softly.
She felt a warm hand on her back as Michael came up behind her. ‘Are you going to put him down so we can eat?’ he said softly in her ear.
‘But he’s so cute and cuddly,’ Grace protested.
‘He certainly is,’ Michael said as he kissed Paul’s cheek gently. ‘But you’ve been hogging him all evening, and your dinner’s going to get cold.’
Grace smiled at her husband. ‘Okay. Point taken,’ she said as she placed Paul in his Moses basket near the dining table.
Grace sat down at the table with Jazz and Connor, while Michael and Jake placed the hot dishes of food onto the table. Everybody helped themselves until they were all sitting with a plate full of food. As was their usual Monday evening routine, they slipped into easy conversation. Grace listened intently as Jake and Connor talked about business and particularly enjoyed hearing how well Luke and Danny were working out. Jazz talked about how much she enjoyed being a mum and they all laughed at the latest schoolyard tale Belle had told them earlier in the evening before she and Oscar had gone to bed.
When the
plates were cleared, Grace sat back in her chair with a glass of wine in her hand and smiled at her family. She had once thought there would only ever be her and Jake, then Belle had come along, and now she had the big family she had always dreamed of. They all looked happy and relaxed and the wine flowing freely suggested that they would all be spending the night. She had come to treasure their Monday evenings together. The whole family always got together on a Sunday, but Mondays were just for them. She took a deep breath as she realised she was potentially about to ruin everybody’s good mood. She would speak to Jazz alone, but if she agreed to speak to Leigh, then Grace was going to have to tell them all that she had been helping out the very same DI who had, not so many months ago, arrested both Jake and Connor for murder.
It was another hour before Grace had the chance to speak to Jazz alone. She was in the kitchen making herself a cup of peppermint tea after giving Paul what would hopefully be his last feed until morning. He was turning out to be a good little sleeper.
‘Want one?’ Jazz asked as she noticed Grace walking towards her.
‘No thanks,’ she replied with a smile.
‘Dinner was delicious. I think I’m still stuffed. Do you think Connor will ever learn to cook like his dad?’ Jazz asked with a laugh.
‘Well, Michael has taught Jake how to make spaghetti carbonara and that boy could barely boil an egg, so there’s definitely hope.’
The kettle clicked off and Jazz poured the boiling water into her mug. ‘Here’s to hope,’ she said as she raised her mug in a toast.
Grace laughed. She loved Jazz and was looking forward to her and Connor getting married in a few months’ time. She was already one of the family and Grace loved spending time with her.
‘I need to talk to you about something, Jazz,’ Grace said as she took a seat at the breakfast bar.
