The Silent One

by M K Farrar

  “What are you suggesting? We just let him carry on with his life? What if he hurts someone else?”

  “I don’t think he’s going to. If he really is the murderer, it was a crime of passion. I’m sure he won’t do it again.”

  Sarcasm laced his tone. “Do you really think, ‘A DI was sure he wouldn’t do it again’ is going to be enough of an explanation as to why we didn’t act on this information if he does? Do you want to go and explain that to his wife if he beats her half to death? If he can commit a crime of passion once, he can do it again, and right now, we’re letting him walk around like he’s got away with it.”

  “What about the girl? Paige Arland. We found her phone at the scene, and she’s claiming amnesia, but I can’t help but feel there’s more to it. Something she’s not telling us.”

  “It’s not going to be some girl,” he scoffed. “We’ve already got enough to nail the professor.”

  “But she—”

  “Enough. I want the professor brought in, and we’re not going to let him walk again.”

  Erica nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll get the arrest warrant.”

  She wanted to argue with him, but he was her senior officer, and if he said jump, then she jumped. Even so, something told her this wasn’t as clear-cut as it seemed. Could a professor really have developed a relationship with a student in only a matter of weeks? That kind of thing normally took time. Even though Adam Humphries was eighteen years old, and not technically a minor, it would have taken a certain amount of grooming.

  Despite his subdued demeanour, lecturers were still in a position of power. Universities had guidelines on lecturer-student relationships. While they weren’t illegal, since everyone involved was an adult and of a consenting age, they still weren’t looked upon with any approval. Lecturers should maintain a professional conduct so as not to affect a student’s grades.

  Perhaps Adam had felt he couldn’t say no. Maybe it put him in a difficult position, and he didn’t know how to get out of it, so threatened to tell Young’s wife as a way of getting him to back off. But, so far, it seemed as though all the messages had come from Adam, not Dr Young. Maybe Adam had been the one to develop the crush, and Young had done his best to ignore it, but then Adam had pushed things too far and Young had retaliated?

  She wanted to focus her attentions on Paige Arland, but Gibbs was the boss, and she had to do what she was told.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Erica left Gibbs’ office, her face burning. She clenched her fists by her sides and forced herself to take deep breaths.

  Shawn fell in beside her. “What’s going on?”

  “We’re arresting Dr Young.”

  “Because of what was found on the laptop?” he checked.

  “Exactly.”

  “What about Paige Arland?”

  “Gibbs is convinced it’s Young and wouldn’t even listen to what we’d found on Paige.”

  Shawn frowned. “We haven’t got all the data from her phone yet. There might be messages or photographs on there that point to her knowing the victim far better than she’s claiming.”

  Erica let out a sigh. “I know that, but Gibbs doesn’t think it was her.”

  “Physically, I can see why. She’s tiny, and there’s no way she’d be strong enough to crack a man’s skull with a brick, but the location of the phone points to her having been there.”

  “You don’t have to convince me.”

  “Shit.” Shawn ran a hand over his head. “Where’s Young likely to be now?”

  “He should be home. I believe the university has given him some time off, though I suspect that’s more for their benefit than his. They won’t have wanted him teaching while everyone is talking about Humphries’ murder.”

  “As soon as the warrant comes through, I guess we’re going back to the Youngs’ house.”

  Erica managed a closed-lipped smile. “I don’t think we’re going to be offered fresh coffee this time round.”

  IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG for them to be granted the arrest warrant.

  Erica pulled up outside of the Youngs’ immaculate property, Shawn in the passenger seat.

  Both Paul Young, and his wife, Sarah, were out the front—Paul washing the already clean Range Rover, while Sarah was on her knees at the flowerbeds, a small garden fork in one hand and a pile of half-dead weeds at her side.

  The Youngs looked towards the car with automatic smiles on their faces—their natural response to be polite—but when Paul Young realised who it was, the smile dropped from his face, replaced by uneasiness. His gaze flicked between the two detectives as they climbed from the car and approached.

  “DI Swift,” he greeted, “how can I help you?”

  Erica didn’t see any point in wasting time with niceties.

  “Paul Young, I am arresting you for the murder of Adam Humphries. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

  His wife clambered to her feet, panic flitting across her features. “What’s all this about? You can’t actually think he did it, can you?”

  Paul Young twisted his neck to address his wife. “I’m innocent. I swear it. I didn’t hurt that student.”

  “I know you didn’t. This is a mistake.” She directed her words at Erica. “Do you hear me? You’re making a big mistake. Paul tried to help him! He didn’t hurt anyone.”

  Erica pressed her lips together, knowing she didn’t have to justify her actions to Mrs Young. But there was still that niggling feeling in her gut that she wouldn’t have made the decision to arrest Paul Young either, if it hadn’t been for Gibbs forcing her hand. This was going to destroy the professor’s reputation. He might well lose his job, which in turn could mean them losing the house. Plus, this kind of accusation often put doubts into a spouse’s head that might not have been there previously.

  “Are you going to come willingly, Dr Young, or are you going to cause us a problem?”

  His gaze flitted around, clearly concerned about how much of this the neighbours might be seeing. “No, I’m coming. There’s no need for all of that.”

  He released the soapy sponge he’d been holding into a bucket of water and wiped his hands on the front of his trousers.

  “Call the solicitor,” he called over to his wife. “Tell her to meet me at the station.”

  Sarah Young had her fingers pressed to her mouth. “I will.”

  Shawn clipped a pair of handcuffs around Young’s wrists then patted him down for weapons.

  “Clean,” he said.

  Erica opened the rear door of their unmarked car, and Dr Young climbed inside.

  HALF AN HOUR LATER, they were back in the interview room at the station. Erica advised him of his rights, making sure they had it on record so there was no chance of the defence saying he never received them.

  Paul Young sat with his head in his hands. “Are you going to tell me why I’ve been arrested?”

  “You don’t have to talk until your solicitor gets here,” Erica warned him.

  He lifted his head. “I know that, but I still want to know why I’m here.”

  “New evidence has come to light that we previously didn’t have access to.”

  “New evidence? How can there possibly be new evidence when I didn’t do this!”

  “Adam Humphries’ laptop was removed from his room. On it, we found a number of emails addressed to you. They were of a sexual nature, Dr Young.”

  His jaw dropped. “What? That’s impossible. I most certainly never received any emails like that.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to rethink what you’ve told us about your relationship with Adam Humphries?”

  “No! God, no. I hardly knew the boy. I certainly never saw or encouraged those kinds of emails.”

  Erica clasped her fingers together. “Here lies the problem, Dr Young. You were found at the scene, covered in the victim’s bl
ood, your prints and DNA all over the place. Your alibi doesn’t hold up, since you and your wife sleep in separate rooms, and now we have a motive for why you might have wanted Adam Humphries dead. If you have anything to tell us that would explain any of this, I suggest you speak up.”

  He let out a long sigh and sat up straighter. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  Erica perked up. That sounded as though a confession was coming.

  “Go on.”

  “I haven’t been one hundred percent truthful. I have been seeing someone, but for God’s sake, it wasn’t a student, and a male student at that. Jesus Christ. I’m not even gay.” He let out another sigh. “I’ve been seeing someone at work. That’s why I go in early and work late, it’s so I can spend time with her. Then once my wife is asleep at night, I sneak out of the house to spend a few hours in her bed as well.”

  Erica lifted an eyebrow. “The night of Adam Humphries’ murder, were you at home in bed, or were you with this other woman?”

  He hung his head. “I slipped out of my house about midnight and spent most of the night with her, and then went home again just before I normally get up, so that my wife thought I was leaving the house as usual.”

  “I see. What’s the other woman’s name?”

  “Yvette Finn. She’s a research assistant in my department at the university. She started working there about six months ago, and recently we’ve become close. More than close.”

  “And you were with her the night Adam Humphries was murdered,” Erica double-checked.

  “Yes, I was.”

  “You think she’ll confirm this for us?”

  “I’m sure she will.”

  Erica shook her head and pursed her lips. “You know, you could have saved us all a lot of wasted time if you’d come forward with this information earlier.”

  He covered his face with his hands. “I didn’t want my wife to find out. I still love Sarah. I love her as much as I ever did. Yvette is just different.” He peered between Shawn and Erica. “Do you believe it’s possible to love two people at once?” he asked them, as though hoping for absolution. “People do it all the time, don’t they? These relationships that have more than two people in them? I’ve seen television documentaries about it.”

  “I believe the other people normally know about each other, Dr Young,” Erica replied, wondering how someone like him ended up with two women, when really he should count himself lucky to have one. After this, he may find himself with no one.

  He choked back a sob and covered his face. “Yes, you’re right. Of course, you’re right. This is going to break Sarah’s heart.”

  “You probably should have thought of that sooner.”

  The interview room door burst open, and Donna Clark, Young’s solicitor, entered the room.

  She pointed a finger at Young. “I hope you haven’t said anything.”

  Dr Young pulled a face. “Sorry.”

  She let out an exasperated sigh and rolled her eyes to the ceiling.

  Erica turned her attention back to Dr Young. “We’re going to need Yvette Finn’s address.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The woman who opened the door wasn’t what Erica had been expecting. She’d thought they’d be faced with some twenty-eight-year-old graduate, but the woman must have been in her forties, at least. Her blonde hair was cut short and spikey, and her ice-blue eyes regarded them with curiosity. Just like Sarah Young, she had that super-lean look of a gym-lover, her cheeks hollowed, highlighting her sharp cheekbones.

  “Yes, can I help you?” There was an accent there, something Eastern European. There was no getting away from the likeness of this woman to Paul Young’s wife, however. Dr Young had said that this other woman was different to Sarah, but Erica could only assume he meant in personality alone.

  “Yvette Finn?” Erica asked.

  “Yes, that’s me.”

  “We’d like to talk to you about Paul Young.”

  She gave a tight smile. “Ah, of course. I thought this might happen.”

  Did she know he’d been arrested? It would have been all around their department by now, wouldn’t it? If so, she hadn’t exactly rushed forward to provide him with an alibi.

  “May we come in?” Erica asked.

  The woman backed away from the door and let them both walk through, into the flat.

  “No work today?” Erica enquired. Their next stop to track her down would have been the university.

  “No, I only work half days on a Friday. I assume you need me to tell you that Paul was with me the night that student was murdered,” she said.

  There was no preamble, no offers of tea or coffee, just straight to it.

  “We need you to tell us the truth,” Erica said.

  “Of course. I had every intention of doing so. I didn’t come forward sooner because I was waiting to make sure Paul was the one to tell you first.”

  Erica raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Did you think he wouldn’t tell us?”

  She shrugged. “It was a possibility. His reputation means everything to him.”

  Shawn pressed his lips together. “I think that horse has already bolted.”

  Yvette frowned at him. “I’m sorry? How do you mean?”

  The other woman obviously didn’t understand the context.

  “I meant that his reputation was already tarnished the moment he was arrested for the student’s murder.”

  “Ah, yes, of course.” She shrugged again. “But his wife and his home are different again. He would have protected them at any cost.”

  “Even going down for a murder he didn’t commit?” Shawn commented.

  A small smile tweaked the corners of her lips. “No, perhaps not at any cost then.”

  “Can you talk me through the evening of the fifth,” Erica said. “What time did you get in?”

  “I got back from the university about six p.m., and I made myself some dinner and had a glass of wine,” that same nonchalant shrug, “maybe two. Then I had a bath and read for a little while. After that, I caught up on some work.”

  “Paul Young’s wife said that he is normally home late during the week, and that he works late a lot. Does that have anything to do with you?”

  “We often go out for dinner once we’ve finished at the university.”

  “But not that night?” Erica prompted.

  “No, I hadn’t felt like it. I’d wanted a night in, alone, catch up on my reading.”

  “So, were you expecting Paul to turn up that night?”

  “No, but he sent me a text around eleven, saying that he missed me, and I guess I was feeling a bit bored by that point because I told him to come over.”

  “What time did he arrive?”

  “About quarter past twelve.” She pursed her lips and frowned as she thought. “Yes, it was definitely after midnight.”

  “How did he seem when he arrived?” Shawn asked.

  “The same as usual. Calm, but happy.” Her tone hardened. “There was no indication to make me think he had just bashed a boy’s head in with a brick, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  Shawn lifted a hand in a stop sign. “We’re just trying to get all the facts, that’s all.”

  “Miss Finn, if Paul Young isn’t responsible, then it’s important we know for sure, not only so Paul can go free, but also so we can move our enquiries away from him and in the direction of the person who actually is responsible for killing Adam Humphries.”

  “I can provide Paul with an alibi. I doubt his wife is going to like it much, but he left here before five a.m., so he could go home and pretend he had woken up there.”

  “And you’d attest to that in a court of law?”

  She nodded. “Yes, I would.”

  “Thank you, Miss Finn. That’s all we needed to know.”

  Erica was surprised a woman like Yvette Finn would put up with having a man for half the time, but perhaps that was how she liked it. Someone who turned up for sex, and who she coul
d talk to on an intellectual level, but who she didn’t need to worry about dealing with all the mundanities of cooking meals for, or cleaning their toothpaste off the inside of the bathroom sink, or picking their dirty socks up off the floor.

  Her heart clenched at the thought of all those things. She’d never been the most domesticated of people, but Chris had always seemed happy enough to step into that role. She knew how lucky she’d been. While she was always hearing other women complaining about how little their husbands did at home, she’d never been able to join in those conversations and had instead remained tight-lipped, wondering if Chris ever spoke this way about her.

  Not that it even mattered. Now she was left, trying to cope with everything—her work, the house, and Poppy—all on her own, bar Natasha. She couldn’t even feel sorry for herself, since she was the one who’d brought this on her family. It was her job that had got Chris killed, he was the one missing out on their beautiful daughter growing up.

  Erica and Shawn left the flat together and waited until they’d got a decent distance from the front door so as not to be overheard.

  “The bloke must be knackered,” Shawn said. “Who’d have thought, a man like that jumping in and out of other women’s beds all night long.”

  She chuckled. “Yeah, when I’m in bed, I can barely bring myself to get up to go to the loo, never mind run all over the city.”

  Shawn laughed, but then her sergeant grew serious. “If he was moving between the two houses at the time that Adam Humphries was being murdered, isn’t there still a chance he did it? Did he have time to stop off at the university campus, kill Humphries, and then arrive at Yvette Finn’s house? Mrs Young can’t attest for the exact time he was at home, since she’d never even realised he’d left.”

  Erica screwed up her nose. “If he left about midnight, he would have had to have killed Humphries on his way to the other woman’s house, and she said that he reached her at twelve fifteen. Humphries hadn’t left the student union by then.”