Their Fatal Secrets

by JANICE FROST

  “At least let me arrange for someone to take care of Boris.” Hearing his name, the dog appeared in the doorway, wagging its tail uncertainly. He was wearing one of those knotted check ties around his neck instead of a collar and looked as dapper as his owner.

  “Like you took care of Pam’s Bunty,” Ava said, giving Boris an apologetic look.

  Henry gave an exaggerated shudder. “Don’t mention that ugly bitch in my presence — the dog, I mean.”

  “Where is Jess Stokes?” Ava asked.

  “I couldn’t say, my dear.”

  “Take him to the car,” Neal instructed Tom. He took Boris by the scarf and led him inside the house. Ava followed and closed the door behind them. Everything about the décor in Henry Bolt’s house was tasteful and bespoke. The kitchen had freestanding units which had been painted in shades of duck egg, cream and sky blue. A huge dresser stood against one wall, displaying an assortment of canal ware — jugs and bowls, spoons, plates, cups and teapots. Canal ware planters overflowing with fragrant herbs stood all along the window sill.

  “He really likes this stuff,” Ava remarked. Boris sidled up to her and licked her hand. She gazed down at him, wondering how much he would miss his master if Henry proved to be the mysterious ‘captain’ they were looking for.

  Jess wasn’t in the house. They pulled out furniture to look for hidden spaces and checked the loft and the garage but there was no evidence to suggest that she had ever been there. “We’ll rip the place apart,” Neal said, “Just in case.”

  They joined Tom outside. He was standing by the car with Henry, who seemed to be taking this more seriously now. They drove back to the station, with Ava sitting beside Henry and Boris lying across their feet, blissfully unaware of what was taking place.

  They walked into the station.

  “I want a lawyer,” Henry said, predictably. Neal looked at his watch, wearily. He nodded at Ava and she went to make the call. They were promised someone within the hour. It was going to be a long night.

  PJ was eager to tell them what she’d found. “I spoke with that woman who sells canal ware. She recognised the design I sent her and confirmed that she’d sold two flat irons like that about six months ago. She only did a limited number in that design and she still had the order details on file. The customer said he was planning to use them as bookends. His name was Henry Bolt. And I thought I’d made a breakthrough.”

  “You did, Peej, the DI and Tom just got a lucky break. What you’ve got is sound evidence.”

  “Did you get a chance to search Bolt’s place? Did you find another iron?” PJ asked.

  “Yes, we searched it.” Ava tried to picture the canal ware on the dresser in Bolt’s kitchen. “No, I’m sure there wasn’t an iron.”

  “Must be on his boat then,” PJ said. Their eyes met. Ava knew they were both thinking the same thing. Jess could be on Bolt’s boat.

  If she was still alive.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Much to Ava’s distaste, Henry’s legal representative was Liz Marlborough, who had defended the woman who had stabbed Neal’s sister the previous year. Not an auspicious start. She watched Neal acknowledge Marlborough with a brief nod, and felt for him.

  Were they looking at Leanne’s killer? Ava wondered. Neville Burke had been shown Henry’s picture, had verified that Henry was the man he’d seen at the parties years ago and had known as the ‘captain.’ It might be enough to take to the CPS to request permission to make a formal charge. Time was of the essence. They couldn’t hold Henry indefinitely without one. If Henry had information that might lead them to Jess, they needed to get him to talk. Fast.

  The present interview was intended to establish Henry’s involvement in what appeared to be a case of historical abuse, and to find out what he knew about Seth Conway and his possible abduction of Jess Stokes.

  Neal shot through the preliminaries, and the interview began.

  “Mr Bolt,” he said. “We have a witness who has confirmed that you were present when the sexual abuse of underage girls took place on your narrowboat on a number of occasions between May and July, 2006. What do you have to say about this?” Henry looked to Liz Marlborough.

  She said, “My client has expressed his wish to cooperate fully with your investigation.”

  Ava was suddenly hopeful. Had Henry been advised that admitting his guilt might mitigate his likely sentence? She wondered what Henry had told Marlborough to elicit such advice.

  “Yes,” Henry said.

  “You admit to being present on all of the occasions when the alleged abuse took place?” Neal asked.

  “Yes.”

  “You were the owner of the narrowboat where the offences took place?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr Bolt, were you actively engaged in the sexual abuse of a number of underage girls eight years ago?” Henry gave another glance at Liz Marlborough, who nodded.

  “Y . . . yes.” The room seemed to chill a few degrees. “B . . . but they were—”

  Neal raised a warning hand. “No excuses. I don’t want to hear that these girls were willing participants. They were children.”

  “It was just sex,” Henry muttered.

  “Excuse me?”

  Henry repeated his statement.

  Ava struggled to suppress her revulsion. Just sex. What was ‘just sex’ to Henry Bolt had resulted in at least four deaths that they knew of. How many other young lives had been destroyed by the evil actions of these men? Earlier in the day, Ava had seen the lab report on the DNA extracted from Ruby Kennedy’s fingernails. Would it be a match for Henry’s? Henry Bolt was a lot of things — perverted and morally skewed, cowardly and self-deluded — but was he also a killer?

  Child abuse had touched Ava’s own life. Her best friend at university had committed suicide following years of abuse. Ava had subsequently dropped out. It was one of the reasons she found cases involving sexual abuse so hard to bear. But then crimes involving children were hard for everyone to cope with.

  Neal leaned back and gave Ava a nod.

  “Did you kill Leanne Jackson?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Did you kill Ruby Kennedy?”

  “No.”

  “What do you know about the disappearance of Jess Stokes?”

  Silence. For the record, Ava said, “Mr Bolt has chosen not to answer.”

  Henry changed his mind. “I don’t know anything about that.”

  Ava leaned forward across the table. “I think you do.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  “Tell us about your relationship with Seth Conway.”

  “I don’t have a relationship with Seth Conway.”

  “Mr Bolt. Two women are dead, and another has been abducted. The weapon used to kill Leanne Jackson was a flat iron. It was one of a pair intended for use as bookends. The artist who painted her unique design on both irons has confirmed that she sold these items to you in January this year. We have copies of the receipts, and the artist has also identified you from pictures shown to her by our officers. All of this leads us to suspect that you played some part in the murder of Leanne Jackson. If your DNA or fingerprints are on the iron you could be facing a murder charge.”

  The interview room was so cool that Ava had goose bumps on her forearms, but Henry had broken out in a sweat. He was afraid. It showed in his nervous movements, in the damp patches under his arms and in his restless eyes darting around the room, seeking out everything but Neal’s hard stare. Sitting beside him, Marlborough, crisp and cool in her navy linen shift dress, gave him a slight nod.

  “I swear I don’t have anything to do with the deaths of those women. Seth contacted me a few weeks ago. He told me Leanne Jackson was onto us. She’d been following up on former clients of that Trust she worked for and started putting two and two together. She remembered a couple of names from her time at CAHMS and started looking up other girls who went to CAHMS at the same time. That’s how she met up with Ruby Kennedy. She was tryin
g to persuade Ruby to go to the police, tell them about the parties. Testify.” Henry spat this last word out as if it burnt his mouth. “Seth came to tell me the game was up. The Jackson girl was like a terrier with a rat — she’d never let go and she’d almost certainly persuade those girls to cry historical abuse. Seth was planning on going abroad. He’d already changed his identity at least once already, in order to carry on working in this country. I was making plans along those lines too, when all of a sudden Jackson and her friend turned up dead.”

  Ava glanced at Marlborough. She gave a shrug as if to say that’s what she’d been told too. But Henry knew more. Everyone in the room was sure of it.

  “So what are you saying now, Henry? That Leanne Jackson and Ruby Kennedy were murdered by some mystery third party totally unrelated to their sexual abuse? That even though we have evidence that links both you and Seth with the two murdered women, the pair of you aren’t involved in any way?” Neal’s voice mingled disbelief with contempt.

  “Tell us about your relationship with Pam Hollings. You didn’t meet her by chance while walking your dog, did you?”

  A look of revulsion flickered across Henry’s face. “No. That wasn’t my idea. I wouldn’t have gone within a mile of that cow and her mongrel.”

  “So whose idea was it? Seth’s?” Neal asked. A flicker of something else besides fear crossed Henry’s face. His next words couldn’t have been more unexpected.

  “I have a kid.” Liz Marlborough looked at him in surprise. “A daughter. She lives with her mother.” He gave a thin laugh. “For obvious reasons. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love her. I want to know that she’ll be protected.” It was like listening to Jonty Cole all over again. Seth had threatened Henry in the same way that he had threatened Jonty — by going after the person he loved.

  “Seth threatened to harm your daughter if you spoke to us?” Neal asked.

  There was a silence. Henry stared down at his hands. Then he glanced nervously at Marlborough, who was now giving him clear signals to shut up. Ava was expecting her to intervene, request a break so that she could find out what the hell Henry hadn’t told her. But he was unstoppable.

  “Not Seth,” he said at last. For a second there was absolute silence. No one breathed.

  “Who?” Neal asked. “Mystery man?”

  “He’s got my boat,” Henry said petulantly.

  Neal’s patience was at an end. “Who?”

  Henry’s voice dropped to a whisper. “The first time he came to one of my parties he was rough with one of the girls. More than rough. He beat her half to death. Seth had to pull him off. I didn’t stand for that sort of thing. I ordered him off my boat.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “The man you’re looking for is called Jonty Cole. He’s a monster.”

  Ava let out a gasp.

  Neal’s fist slammed down so hard on the recorder stop control that the whole table shook. He declared the interview over and stood up abruptly, his chair tipping away behind him and landing with a crash on the floor. It was left to Ava to conclude the proceedings and wait while Henry was conveyed to a holding cell.

  She kept thinking, Fuck. We had the bastard and we let him walk. We let him walk.

  She sought Neal out immediately. He had already set the wheels in motion. Every police officer in Stromford would now be on the lookout for Jonty Cole. Ava thought of Henry’s look of distaste when he mentioned the girl Jonty had beaten half to death. Oh, Jess, she thought, knowing they might be too late to find her alive.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Jonty checked the locks twice before leaving the boat. The last thing he wanted was for some prowler to break into the boat and spoil everything. Jess’s bindings were securely tied, and there was no way she’d be able to work them loose.

  He drove up the muddy track to the nearest road, casting a look back at the narrowboat in its mooring. Was he doing the right thing leaving it hiding almost in plain sight? He could easily have taken to the waterways and been miles away by now. If it hadn’t been for Barney, he probably would have cruised off right after that interview.

  That detective had taken him by surprise accosting him in the college car park like that. He shouldn’t have run. It was the kind of stupid thing Seth would have done. Thinking with his feet instead of his head.

  It was over, he knew. The police were all over Seth for Leanne and Ruby’s murders, but as soon as they tracked him down, they’d learn the truth. Jonty hoped he’d bought himself enough time. If not, he still had the Stokes bitch as a bargaining chip. Shame. He’d been looking forward to beating her slowly to death.

  Jonty knew he was taking a risk in going back for Barney. If the police were onto him they’d be round at Barney’s place like a shot. But he was confident he’d managed to convince them that Seth was the villain they were after. They’d be looking elsewhere for a bit. Still, he needed to act without delay.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  No one was surprised that Jonty Cole had gone to ground.

  By the time they arrived to conduct a search of the furnished flat he had been renting on Stromford Road, he’d cleared it of all his personal belongings.

  “He hasn’t lived here in days,” said Neal. “He’s been hiding out on Bolt’s boat.”

  Henry Bolt had given them a description of his narrowboat, but Jonty would certainly have disguised and renamed it since he took up residence. CCTV footage of the stretch of river leading to the marina from the night Leanne and Ruby died had revealed that a narrowboat had passed under the bridge about half an hour before Leanne’s body was discovered. The trouble was, in the darkness there was nothing to see but a long shadow, black and anonymous. A search of the canals and rivers was already underway, but the River Strom was connected to a whole network of waterways and by now Jonty could be almost anywhere.

  “We know he’s been in touch with Seth recently. If Bolt was telling the truth, Jonty must have been blackmailing Seth,” Neal said.

  Ava nodded. “Seth must have panicked, told Jonty that Leanne was onto him and he was going abroad, so Jonty decided to deal with the problem.” She sighed and pulled off her latex gloves.

  “Let’s go,” said Neal. “Your mate Dan will be here shortly. There’s no need for us to linger.”

  They left a uniformed officer at the door and made their way back to the station.

  PJ told them that her trawl of the nursing agencies in Nottingham had narrowed to two men, either of whom might be Seth Conway. She grinned. “That’s the good news.”

  Neal’s mood was as stormy as a Hebridean island in winter. “Just give me the facts, Constable.”

  “Sorry, sir. One of them was registered under a bogus address, and the other has moved to Scotland. The one who moved to Scotland is a fifty-two-year-old Polish man, so he’s unlikely to be our Seth.”

  Ava gave PJ a pat on the shoulder. “Nice try, Peej.”

  Neal stormed into his office. He soon felt ashamed. It wasn’t PJ’s fault the trail had gone cold. Neal had been so sure that tracing Seth Conway would lead them closer to Jess Stokes. Now, with every hour that passed, the likelihood of finding her alive was more remote.

  Neal stared at his screen, poring over the case notes. Something was niggling him. Why had Jonty attended CAMHS? He’d never really told them. Neal recalled something that Tina Jackson had said about Leanne being in a relationship with an abusive boyfriend she’d met at CAMHS. The boyfriend had been attending anger management sessions. It was a bit of a leap, but what if the boyfriend had been Jonty Cole? He’d attended CAMHS at the same time as Leanne and the others. Even if Leanne had not been lured to any of Seth and Henry’s boat parties, she must have known that Jonty was involved. What else had she discovered about Jonty Cole?

  Neal called Tom Knight into his office and asked him to send a PC back to Tina Jackson’s to show her some pictures of Jonty, then and now. Then he called Ava, PJ and Tom into his room. They had been working this case for nearly ten days now and the strain was begi
nning to tell. He knew he was showing it too — Jock had commented on it the previous evening.

  Neal was also feeling guilty about seeing so little of his son, Archie. In the past couple of weeks, Jock had been taking Archie out with Maggie, and Archie was having a great time. Lying awake in the early hours of the morning, Neal wondered what he would do if Maggie returned to Scotland with Jock. Archie wasn’t a little kid any more. At the end of the summer he’d be starting secondary school, but Neal wanted to be there for him. He sighed. What was he doing, thinking about this now with three expectant faces all looking at him in anticipation?

  “Let’s take a minute to consider where we are with this case. We know how our two main suspects connect to the girls on Leanne’s list, and to Leanne herself. We know that Seth Conway recruited sixteen-year-old Jonty Cole to help him entice the girls he met at CAMHS to his boat parties, and from what Henry Bolt told us about Cole’s behaviour towards one of the girls, Cole has a violent temper. Let’s consider that Jonty Cole might have been the violent ex-boyfriend of Leanne’s that Tina Jackson alluded to when you interviewed her.”

  Neal looked at PJ and Tom. “Hence my request that you send someone out to show Tina some pictures.” He looked at his team, seeing weariness but also a determination to see the case through. “If we had the resources, I’d have men and women out there searching every narrowboat in the county and beyond, but we know that’s not possible. So if anyone has any ideas? I hate to use the old cliché, but we really do need to think outside the box.”

  “Barney,” Ava said immediately. “Jonty’s brother. We know that Jonty is devoted to him. Would he just abandon him, do you think?”

  “We’ve already had a couple of officers out to search the assisted living facility where Barney lives. The staff there know to contact us immediately if Jonty shows up.”

  “Jess was fond of Barney. I wonder if that worked both ways.”

  “What are you thinking, Ava?” Neal asked.

  “That perhaps Jonty kidnapped Jess for reasons that are completely unconnected with the rest of this case.”