by JANICE FROST
“Even if you are lucky enough to see someone, nine times out of ten they just want to dope your kid to make them compliant. The drugs they tried giving Ruby just seemed to make her worse and she refused to take them. As for social workers, you have to have a thick skin when you’re dealing with them. Like teachers, they lay the blame for a child’s behaviour on the parents. I tried asking them why I had two perfectly behaved sons who were brought up in exactly the same way, and no one could give me an answer. Didn’t fit with their preconceived ideas.”
Martha was shaking with anger by now. Douglas took hold of his wife’s hand. “Calm down, love.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No need to apologise,” Neal said.
“I’m sorry because I haven’t answered your question yet. Things went from bad to worse. We struggled to keep Ruby indoors. Sometimes it felt like we were imprisoning her, Inspector. Whatever we did, she always managed to sneak out somehow and put herself in danger. There were fights, screaming matches, the twins began to suffer. I ended up on anti-depressants and Doug was in danger of losing his job because he had to take so much time off work — by that time I was already on long term sick leave. Finally, we had to sign Ruby over to social services and they put her into foster care. It was a terrible time for all of us, not least Ruby, who couldn’t understand why we were doing it.”
“It didn’t end there, though,” Douglas said. “Almost immediately, Ruby started disappearing from her foster home. We tried to have her transferred to some kind of facility where she would have adult supervision — a home basically, where she’d have minders with her all the time and where she could get the right sort of help.”
“Then she turned eighteen and, of course, adult mental health services are as chaotic as those for children and young people . . .” Martha’s voice trailed off.
“We lost her, Officers. Our daughter disappeared from our lives. By the time we received the news of her death, we had no idea where she was.” The light had gone out of Douglas Kennedy again. He sat there, a man in ruins.
Ava took a brown envelope from her bag. It contained photographs of Leanne Jackson and the names of the women on her list.
Douglas Kennedy looked at the envelope. “Have you come to talk to us about something else besides our daughter, Detectives?”
“We wanted to ask you about the other young woman who died on the same night as Ruby. You might have heard her death reported on the local news? Her name was Leanne Jackson. What we’d like to know is whether your daughter knew Leanne.”
Ava pulled Leanne’s photograph from the envelope and placed it on the table. Martha Kennedy gave it a quick glance, then said, “I spoke with her on the phone a couple of weeks ago.” Her husband looked at her, puzzled.
Neal and Ava exchanged looks. “Why did Leanne contact you?” Ava asked.
“She said she knew Ruby from years ago.” Martha gave a sniff and Douglas passed her his handkerchief. “She didn’t say where from. Maybe school, I don’t know. We heard about Leanne on the news, of course. Then the news about Ruby came and everything else went out of my head.”
Douglas Kennedy shook his head. “I don’t recall Ruby ever mentioning someone called Leanne.”
“Is it possible that your daughter returned to Stromford when she came out of foster care?” Ava said. Neal had opened his mouth to ask the same question.
The Kennedys exchanged glances. Douglas sounded irate. “Of course it is. When we lost touch with Ruby, we asked the Nottinghamshire police to alert the police in the Stromfordshire area.”
Ava glanced at Neal and he shook his head. “We’ll look into that, Mr Kennedy. We’re used to cooperating with other forces but if the information wasn’t communicated to us . . .” Neal realised he sounded as if he were making excuses. The Kennedys deserved better than that.
Neal gave Ava a nod and she took the other photographs from the envelope and laid them out around Leanne’s.
“How about these young women? Are any of them familiar?” Ava asked. Martha pointed to the picture of a young woman with a very distinguishing feature — one eye was blue, the other brown.
“Alyssa,” Martha said, wonderingly. “She was in Ruby’s year at school. Why are you showing us these pictures, DI Neal?” Her hand went to her throat. “Something’s happened to all of them, hasn’t it? Are they all. .?”
“Alyssa is alive and well. She emigrated to Australia five years ago.” Ava pointed to the picture of Chantelle Clarke. “Chantelle Clarke. She took her own life. Michaela Howard died trying to rescue a dog.”
“But you think there might be something more to their deaths, don’t you?” Douglas said. Neal decided to level with him.
“Truthfully? We don’t know, but yes, we do have some concerns.”
Ava looked at him, and Neal gave a nod.
“We don’t have a photo, but there’s one other woman we’d like to ask you about. Her name is Corinna Masters.” The Kennedys shook their heads. Martha’s eyes were glistening with tears again, but Ava pressed on.
When it comes to police work, she is all steel, Neal thought.
“Given that Ruby’s body was found near Stromford, it’s possible that she came back here, and was living somewhere in or near the city. Who would she go to?” Ava asked.
Neal closed his eyes momentarily. She might as well have kicked the Kennedys in the stomach.
“Not to us, obviously, Sergeant,” Douglas said icily.
The atmosphere had changed. Neal looked at his watch. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr and Mrs Kennedy. Once more, I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
“Just one more question,” Ava said, with an apologetic glance at Neal. “You told us that Ruby received medication for a bit when her behaviour went off the rails. I know you said that you hoped social services would help Ruby. Did she attend any group counselling sessions at CAMHS as part of her treatment?”
“Yes, to both questions,” Martha replied.
“Thank you,” Ava said quietly. The Kennedys saw them to the door.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Ava said, “I’ll check the dates when Ruby attended CAMHS.” Neal nodded. He had little doubt about what she would discover.
* * *
The house was quiet when Neal returned from work that evening. Archie had gone to a friend’s birthday party and Maggie was busy in the kitchen cooking up something special, which seemed suspicious to Neal, as it wasn’t even her cooking night. If she were trying to impress Jock, she was going the wrong way about it. Maggie was a competent cook, nothing more. Normally she stuck with what she was good at, but judging by the unfamiliar smells wafting from the kitchen every time she opened the door, this was going to be one of her ‘experimental’ meals. He hoped she’d keep it simple. He found Jock in the lounge reading one of his true crime books, glass of scotch in hand.
Jock laid the book aside. “Smells braw whatever she’s cookin.”
“Aye, well, don’t expect too much,” Neal cautioned.
“Ach, Jim, that woman could serve me a battered Mars bar and I’d eat it with a smile on my face. So how’s the case going?”
Neal wasn’t in the habit of discussing the cases he was working on but he made an exception for his friend. Jock, a doctor, was used to respecting confidentiality. He whistled softly when Neal told him.
“A suicide and a drowning that could be related to two murders. How are you keeping this out of the papers, Jim?”
“Partly because we’ve only just started joining up the dots ourselves. No one’s linked these women before.”
“The lassie who drowned, Michaela, was it? Had she been drinking?”
“Tox report showed a fair amount of alcohol in her bloodstream. She was also on Ritalin for her ADHD.”
“Which would interact with the alcohol in her bloodstream. Ritalin’s a stimulant and alcohol’s a depressant, but that doesn’t mean they cancel each other out. She may not have realised how drunk she was, poor lass. I’d ex
pect the dog to have survived. Do you know what breed it was?”
Neal shrugged. “Labrador retriever, I think.”
“They’re good swimmers. If it was healthy, there’s no reason why it should perish. Maybe the witness got it the wrong way around and the dog went into the water to rescue the girl. Could have tired itself out trying to rescue her and couldn’t make it back to the riverbank.”
Neal looked sceptical.
“I wonder what became of the poor pooch.” Jock was a dog lover. He had a dog called Lachie who often accompanied Neal and Jock on their hillwalking expeditions. “I know that in instances of suspected animal cruelty a forensic necropsy can take place. ..”
“A local vet disposed of the body. As far as I know it was incinerated.” He looked at Jock. “Damn, you’re right. It might have been relevant. The dog could have been drugged or poisoned, or even chucked in the water already dead. I doubt anyone bothered to check.”
Both men were silent. The blaring of the smoke alarm startled them. Neal rushed to the door and was assaulted by the smell of burning.
Maggie, looking harassed, was waving a tea towel at the ceiling. “Nothing’s burning. These things are so bloody sensitive. I should have taken the batteries out before I started with the frying pan.
“Something’s definitely burning.” Neal sniffed the air, earning a glare from his sister.
Maggie ushered him out. “Everything’s under control. I’ll call you when it’s ready. Shouldn’t be too long.”
Back in the living room, Neal grumbled, “I hate it when she starts trying to do fancy stuff. Usually ends in beans on toast.”
“It didn’t smell that bad to me. You’re fussing over nothing,” Jock said.
Neal rolled his eyes. He doubted whether Jock would notice anything Maggie served him up. He would need to be careful what he said to Jock about his sister from now on. He sighed. The case was demanding enough without having to deal with a love-struck Jock. Affairs of the heart were not really his forte.
“Well, I’m here for a couple of weeks, Jim. Let me know if I can help you out in any way. I might as well make myself useful. I could play Dr Watson to your Sherlock Holmes. What d’ye think of that as an idea?
“Er . . .” To Neal’s relief, Maggie popped her head around the door to announce that dinner was ready.
Chapter Fourteen
Following the macabre discovery of Bunty’s body, Jess had developed a habit of looking over her shoulder. She felt vulnerable, but more than that, she couldn’t shake the feeling that people close to her might be in danger because of something she’d done. But what was it? Why? The threatening note had advised her to stop looking into things that didn’t concern her if she didn’t want people close to her to get hurt. If it hadn’t been for the recent incidents she might have dismissed it as a prank. On balance, she still thought Michael must be responsible. She couldn’t think of anyone else. Jess baulked at the thought of bringing this up with Pam. Her friend had been through a lot in the past few days and Jess had no wish to upset her further.
In her morning break, Jess popped out to go to the bank. Hurrying across the campus, she looked upon familiar and unfamiliar faces alike with suspicion. Even standing in the queue at the bank, she felt anxious.
Back at college, in the busy corridor outside the classrooms, she felt safer.
“Jess! Hi!”
It was Jonty Cole. She hadn’t seen him since the day they’d had coffee together. She hadn’t seen Mitch either. Jonty seemed self-conscious.
“I just wanted to apologise for the other day,” he began.
“What for? We’re friends, aren’t we?” Jess said.
Jonty peered at her. “Are you alright, Jess? You look kind of tired.”
“I’m fine. Just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”
“Big night out, was it?”
“Oh no, nothing like that. Just . . . just a bit of trouble at my place.”
“Oh? What kind of trouble? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“I . . . it’s a bit of a long story.” He was beginning to irritate her again.
“Well, if you need someone to talk to . . .”
“Thanks, Jonty. That’s kind of you, but I’m fine.”
“What about after work? I could pick you up.”
Really? “I, er, actually I’m seeing my boyfriend later.”
He nodded. “Ah, yes. Mitch, isn’t it? Well, he’s a lucky guy, Jess. I hope he appreciates you.”
Jess smiled politely. Jonty stepped a little closer to her. Too close. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. She flinched, and instinctively took a step backwards.
“S . . . sorry, Jess.”
Jess looked up and down the corridor, glad to see that there were other people about, though she still felt vulnerable.
“Er . . . excuse me, Jonty. I need to get to my classroom now.” Jess moved to the side so that she could get past him, but Jonty still hovered. Jess wished he’d just get the message and go away. She had a feeling there was something more he wanted to say. But after a moment or two, all he said was, “Sorry for holding you up. Have a nice day, Jess.”
Why had he started with all that again after she’d made it clear in the coffee shop that even if she weren’t already dating, she still wouldn’t be interested? Was he just a nice, persistent guy who was a bit dumb? Or was he a creep who used his disabled brother to ingratiate himself with women?
Why had he been here anyway? She looked around for Barney. He was standing with a group of friends further down the corridor. Had Jonty even spoken to him? Jess spotted a colleague and asked her if Jonty had been to see Barney. The answer was reassuring. He had brought Barney’s swimming trunks, which he’d forgotten to pack that morning. A perfectly sound explanation. Unless . . . unless Jonty had deliberately not packed them as a pretext for coming to college. To see her. So what? If he did fancy her, he’d be looking for ways to engineer meetings with her. She had to stop being so paranoid.
Still anxious, Jess decided that it might be a good move to talk to Ava Merry about the recent events. She called Ava’s number after work and was relieved to hear the detective’s friendly voice.
“I was just wondering,” Jess began, “if you’re going to be at the pool tomorrow morning?”
“Yes, would you like to talk again?” Ava asked. “I’m afraid I don’t have much news for you.”
“That’s okay. I just wanted to ask you something, that’s all.”
Ava must have picked up on her anxiety, for she said, “Are you alright, Jess? Has something happened? Is it something to do with Leanne?”
“Some bad things have happened over the past couple of days. I’d just like to run them past you to see what you think. It’s probably nothing, I expect I’m just overreacting . . .”
“Would you like to see me sooner, Jess? I could meet you this evening if you like.”
Jess considered Ava’s offer. Supposing Mitch came round to make up? “Tomorrow morning will do. Like I said, it’s probably just me being paranoid.”
They agreed to meet in the pool café after their swim.
On her way home, Jess called into Marks and Spencer to buy some flowers for Pam. She planned to call round later that evening to see how she was coping. Just in case Mitch did turn up, she also bought a nice bottle of wine.
She walked home along the river, stopping for a few moments at the place where she had seen the police divers searching the Strom for clues.
The riverside path was surprisingly quiet. It was nice to be able to enjoy these quiet times of day, but Jess was conscious, as always, that these were hours when she could be working. She’d all but decided by now that she had to find some way of earning more money, even if it meant running up a huge debt to do a degree.
In her teens she had lacked confidence because of her scoliosis, but she had gained a lot of self-esteem from working and from friends like Pam. Working as a support assistant was rewarding personall
y, but like most jobs that involved caring for people, it was poorly paid. Her neighbour, Magda, worked ridiculously long hours providing personal care, mostly to elderly people. She took on extra hours whenever she could and was dedicated to her clients, yet some months she struggled to live within her budget. The private company she worked for paid her a fraction of what it charged to provide care. Magda did it because she could send money home to her mother and her six-year-old son, and because it was far more than she could earn in Poland. People were all that mattered, Jess thought, so why did caring for them seem to matter so little?
Mitch had said he didn’t mind what Jess did or how much she earned, but she was conscious of the fact that if they stayed together they might one day want to save for a mortgage. If they stayed together. With a pang of regret, Jess realised she didn’t want to lose him. She didn’t really think he was possessive or controlling. She’d overreacted. Pam, ever the cynic since her recent break-up, had told her what the warning signs were, and now she was over cautious. If she heard that Mitch had been drinking coffee with another woman, perhaps the green-eyed monster would get hold of her too. Reversing the male and female roles sometimes helped put things in perspective.
This silly row over Jonty had shown her a side of Mitch that was troubling, but there was something else. At some subconscious level she still believed she was not worthy of his love. Love? The word took her by surprise and she shelved it quickly.
Jess approached her flat and her pace slowed. A feeling of trepidation accompanied her to the entrance door. She fumbled in her handbag and pulled out a shiny new key — the letting agency had been sympathetic after what happened to Bunty and had changed the locks at last.
She stepped into the hallway, unable to stop herself picturing Bunty lying there on her side, her velvety mouth gaping, her tongue lolling out in a pool of frothy saliva. With a shudder, she closed the door and turned to face the wide staircase leading up to Pam’s flat. Should she go straight up to Pam’s? After a moment’s indecision, she ran up the stairs, only to find a note on Pam’s door to say that she’d gone to the cinema.
