The Silent One

by M K Farrar

  “And time of death was far earlier than five a.m., so he couldn’t have done it on his way back from Yvette Finn’s place either.”

  “While we’re here,” Erica said, “let’s go and knock on the neighbours’ doors and see if any of them saw Paul Young coming or going. Someone might have a home security system in the area as well, and let’s check for local CCTV that might have caught his car. While I don’t disbelieve what Yvette Finn has told us, finding another witness to his location or physical proof that he was here at the times they’ve both told us will rule him out completely.”

  Shawn nodded. “Agreed.”

  They started with Ms Finn’s direct neighbour.

  A woman who must have been in her eighties answered. Erica explained who they were and their reason for knocking, and the woman introduced herself as Mrs Wickes.

  “Is there any chance you may have spotted a man going into next door a few days ago?” Erica asked. “It would have been quite late. Around midnight, we believe.”

  “Oh, I didn’t see anything myself, but I have one of those new doorbells. You know, the ones with a camera in them. My son was worried about me still living on my own at my age, which frankly I find ridiculous. I told him that I’d managed to take care of myself for over twenty years since his father died, but apparently he thinks I’m now losing my marbles and will wander off somewhere or get caught out by one of those scammers. So, I agreed to the doorbell to stop him from nagging me. I believe it videos whenever motion is detected so it might have caught your young man.”

  “Do you have access to the video at all, Mrs Wickes?”

  “Yes, of course I do. It all goes straight to my iPad. Come on in, and I’ll show you.”

  Erica and Shawn exchanged a smile at the thought of her with an iPad, and followed her in. She led them into the lounge and gestured for them both to sit side by side on the over-stuffed sofa.

  Mrs Wickes picked up the iPad and turned it on, and pulled up the app. “When did you say you need the recording from?”

  Erica gave her the time and date, and Mrs Wickes scrolled through the app with surprising efficiency.

  “Ah, here we are.” She handed the iPad over to Erica and Shawn.

  Sure enough, even though it was dark, the recording managed to capture Paul Young walking past Mrs Wickes’ front door and stopping at Yvette Finn’s. Just off camera, Yvette must have opened the door, and Paul Young vanished off screen. Erica fast forwarded through the footage, pausing each time there was movement that set off the cameras. Sure enough, shortly before five a.m., the camera caught Paul leaving again.

  “Are you able to email this to me, Mrs Wickes?” Erica handed her back the iPad and took out a business card. “My email is right here.”

  “Yes, of course. I’ll do that now.”

  They waited while Mrs Wickes sent the video file over, and then thanked her and left the flat.

  “I guess that puts an end to that, then,” Erica said to Shawn, fishing in her bag for her car keys.

  Shawn frowned. “But what about the emails? Dr Young says he never received any kind of messages like that. Do we believe him?”

  Erica shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure what to think about that.”

  “Is it possible that all this stuff about Young’s involvement with Adam Humphries is just some sick joke? Maybe someone else had access to Humphries’ email and wrote them?”

  She glanced over at him. “It’s a possibility. Let’s see if Digital Forensics can narrow down an IP address. My money is on that it didn’t come from either Adam or Paul’s homes.”

  Shawn thought for a moment and then said, “What if it was more?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What if those messages and posts were a deliberate plant, trying to lead us in the wrong direction?”

  Erica drew to a halt. “You think someone posted them to make Young look guilty in order to draw attention away from themselves?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? If Young hadn’t been having an affair and so been able to provide an alibi, it might have worked, too.”

  “Shit. You might be onto something. Gibbs isn’t going to be happy that Young is going to walk free. He wanted this done and dusted.”

  “He’ll get over it. No one wants the wrong person going down for a crime they didn’t commit.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Saturday morning dawned bright and warm, like summer didn’t want to hand over to autumn just yet.

  The courtyard outside Paige’s building was busy again, except this time it was for another reason. The memorial for Adam Humphries was happening today, and a stage crew had been erecting a platform at the far end of the courtyard. The banging and shouting and hammering had been going on since first thing, and Paige had lain with a pillow over her head until she couldn’t stand it any longer, and had switched her pillow for her headphones, music blasting out of them.

  Paige didn’t want to go, but how could she not? She knew people had seen her leaving with the two detectives and questioning her. If she didn’t go, it would make her look even guiltier. They’d all talk and gossip about her. They’d probably do that anyway, even if she did turn up, but at least they would be forced to face up to her when they did.

  Professor Young being arrested had at least taken the heat off her, though she felt horribly guilty about it. Perhaps she should come forward and admit there was more to the story than she’d told the detectives, but the last thing she wanted to do was direct extra attention her way. Besides, the professor had been released again, as far as she was aware, so there was no harm done, except to Professor Young’s reputation, and frankly, the damage had already been done the first time he’d been brought in.

  When it was almost midday, and the time for the memorial to start, Paige threw on a hoodie and pushed her feet into her trainers, and then went to meet Jasmine.

  Jasmine was waiting in the kitchen with a bottle of alcopop in her hand.

  Paige lifted an eyebrow at the drink. “Really, Jas? Is this the right time?”

  Jasmine rolled her eyes. “Jeez, chill out. I’m not taking it with me.”

  “Good!”

  “When did you turn into such a spoil-sport.” She poked her tongue out, but Paige knew she was joking. “Anyway, things like this are always known for a good party afterwards. You’re supposed to drink. It’s practically tradition.”

  “It’s not a wake, Jas! It’s a memorial. They’re two different things.”

  She shrugged and knocked back the remainder of the bottle. “Barely. Anyway, I’m finished now. I needed it to get through the next hour.”

  “Do you think it’s going to take that long?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve never been to one of these things before.”

  “Me neither.”

  “We’re supposed to hold up our phones in remembrance. I think they’re hoping to get some special picture for the uni website or something.”

  “They’re not going to use it as a promo op, Jas! Think about it. Come to this university... where our students are murdered.”

  Jasmine giggled. “Good point.”

  Her phone buzzed, and she pulled it out of her jeans’ pocket and checked the screen. “Lucas is waiting for us downstairs.”

  Her heart sank. “Is he?”

  Jasmine must have detected something in her tone. “Don’t be like that, Paige. He’s my boyfriend. I’m allowed to spend time with him.”

  “I didn’t say anything,” she protested, though she thought, Yeah, but you spend all your time with him.

  Jasmine shot her a look as though to say, you didn’t have to, but she let it slide. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Paige followed her out and down the stairs to the exit. They clearly weren’t the only ones planning on attending. The courtyard was already humming with students. Were the detectives here as well? Would they send someone to watch out for any suspicious activity? Would they be watching out for her? She sought the faces of th
ose attending, looking out for anyone who didn’t quite fit in. Then she spotted them—the two younger detectives who’d questioned them all on that first morning after Adam’s death. They were standing near the stage at the front, but had stepped behind it, as though the platform might mean they’d go unnoticed. So, the police had considered the possibility that Adam’s killer would show up here. Maybe they were right.

  The number of people here surprised her. It wasn’t just first year students, but older ones as well, and numerous members of staff. The atmosphere felt strange, a low buzz of restrained excitement, as though people knew this wasn’t a party, but had been thrown into party mood by the sheer volume of numbers and were now forced to restrain themselves.

  “There are the boys,” Jas said, pointing through the crowd.

  The group Lucas hung out with all seemed to be tall and rangy, standing head and shoulders above everyone else. Paige could never see over anyone’s head—at concerts, she was normally stuck with staring at the middle of someone’s back.

  The platform had been set up at the front of the library, a microphone in the middle, together with some blown-up photographs of Adam on banners on either side.

  How many of these people had even seen Adam in real life? Maybe some of them had shared lectures with him, but she bet they’d never even spoken to him. At least she’d shared a few words with him, though it wasn’t as though she’d ever have called him a friend.

  She remembered how DI Swift had pointed out that Adam had been interested in their group in the student union, and a fresh wave of sickening guilt swept through her. They should have pulled him into the group, got him to join in. He might still be alive today if they had.

  But he followed you out of the union.

  No, she didn’t want to think about that, or about what she’d remembered about someone coming up behind her on the way back to the student halls. Had it been Adam? Had she been the last person to see him alive? And what had happened to that missing twenty minutes or so? Had she used that time to kill him?

  Was she just like her father?

  A rush of hot and cold swept over her, and she swallowed hard, doing her best to push away the thought. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t a violent person—she never had been. She couldn’t even bring herself to squash a spider, and always had to gently catch it and release it outside. There had been plenty of times in her life where she’d considered going vegetarian, but knew her love of bacon and fried chicken would have always weakened her self-resolve to breaking point. She could no more picture herself killing Adam Humphries than she could imagine herself beating a puppy to death with a stick. It was simply inconceivable.

  So then why did she feel so fucking guilty?

  “This way,” Jasmine called back to her.

  Reluctantly, Paige followed. She should never have come to this. What the hell had she been thinking?

  Lucas saw them and jerked his chin. “Hey, babe.” He pulled Jasmine in for a kiss and then glanced over the top of her head towards Paige. “All right?”

  Paige forced a smile and nodded.

  Ben was with him, as were a couple of the other friends they hung out with.

  “This is weird, right?” Lucas continued. “I don’t think even a handful of these people even knew Adam.”

  Paige wasn’t going to point out that they barely knew him either. She’d thought the same thing moments earlier.

  “Let’s get closer to the front,” Jasmine suggested. “We can’t see anything from here.”

  “Come on then.” Lucas set off, leading the way through the gathering crowds.

  Paige followed, not wanting to get left behind.

  A screech came from the microphone, and Paige flinched. Bodies crowded her in on all sides, and her claustrophobia increased, her heart racing. People jostled her from side to side.

  Jesus, there were reporters here, their cameras flashing. Bloody vultures.

  A voice came over the loudspeakers. “Thank you, everyone, for coming today. We’re here to remember a fellow student whose life was tragically stolen from him earlier this week. Adam Humphries was intelligent, respectful, and a much-loved member of this university, and would have had a fantastic future ahead of him...”

  Paige zoned out, not hearing anything else that was said. All she could think about was all the people surrounding her, how she wouldn’t be able to get away if something bad happened. Her heart was beating too fast and didn’t feel regular—as though it was skipping beats—and her entire body grew clammy with sweat. Her lungs refused to expand, and she struggled to draw in a breath.

  “Paige? Are you all right?”

  She was vaguely aware of Jasmine frowning at her, but everything felt distant, as though she’d been removed from the scene and she was watching it all through a sheet of glass. Her body no longer felt as though it belonged to her, and her vision tunnelled.

  Oh shit. She was going to pass out.

  “Lucas, something is wrong with Paige! She’s gone white.”

  A shuffling of positions brought Lucas beside her. Her knees buckled out from under her...

  Lucas reached out and grabbed her, preventing her from collapsing.

  The feel of his hand wrapped around her upper arm snapped her back to the present. The front of his arm pressed across her breasts. His body hard against hers, tall and looming, making her feel so small.

  She remembered.

  Her eyes sprang wide, and she stared up at him, their gazes locked.

  “It was you,” she gasped.

  She didn’t give Lucas a chance to reply.

  Paige wrenched herself out of his grip and spun around to push her way back through the crowd. Tears streamed down her face, but she no longer cared what people were saying or thinking about her. All she knew was that she needed to get back to her room and close the door, and lock it behind her. Fuck, she’d probably even wedge the desk chair under the handle, just to make sure there was no chance of anyone coming along behind her.

  She reached her building and slammed her way inside, and stumbled up the stairs. Her replacement phone vibrated with a call, and she knew it would be Jasmine phoning to find out if she was all right. There was no way she could speak to Jas.

  Paige reached her room, fumbled for her keys, dropped them, picked them back up again, and then finally got the door open. She fell into the room, sobbing.

  It all came back to her, how she’d left the union and heard someone behind her, only to see it was Lucas. She remembered him holding her upright, but refusing to let go, how he’d pushed her into the bushes and punched her in the face. How he’d spun her around and yanked down her knickers. She remembered the swing of her bag with every thrust, how it hadn’t been closed properly. That must have been when her phone had fallen out.

  That was why she’d been bleeding—because Lucas had punched her and raped her. Her bruised thighs and soreness between her legs, and the low ache in her belly that had felt like she was going to get her period. The fucking bastard had raped her. He’d seen how drunk she was that night and he’d followed her out, and taken advantage of her.

  Paige threw herself on her bed, grabbed her pillow, bit down hard on it, and screamed. She screamed until her throat burned and her pillow was soaked with her tears.

  Eventually, her energy gave out, and she was left shivering and drained and wondering what the hell she was supposed to do next.

  She couldn’t even face Jasmine—especially not Jasmine. Her head was spinning. How the hell was she ever going to be able to face her friend again?

  What was she going to say to her?

  The truth?

  That Lucas raped her after leaving the student union that night?

  That he might be the person responsible for killing Adam Humphries?

  She didn’t have any proof. It had been days since the attack, and her bruises had all faded. If she went to the police, would they even believe her, or would it just look as though she was trying to divert the
attention from herself? Shit, she’d given the detective the wrong dress. She’d deliberately tried to deceive her. The strap of the original dress had been torn, and perhaps that would have been proof that she’d been attacked, but then they might have just said that Adam could have torn the strap when he was fighting for his life.

  Did Lucas really kill Adam? Why? It seemed pretty clear to her. Adam must have seen what Lucas had done to her and threatened to tell. Rather then being exposed as a rapist, Lucas had killed him.

  She had to go to the police. There was no way she could keep this to herself.

  But still the biggest worry in her mind was her friend. She couldn’t let Jasmine find out the truth by the police turning up and arresting her boyfriend. Jas would never talk to her again. But the way things were going, she doubted Jasmine would ever speak to her again anyway.

  No, this wasn’t her fault. She was the victim here, as well as Adam. What if Lucas did the same thing to Jasmine? What if he hurt her?

  She couldn’t just let this go.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Erica stood in Gibbs’ office.

  The news that Dr Paul Young had been released without further charge hadn’t gone down well.

  Gibbs growled and shook his head. “I can’t believe we’ve lost our only suspect. We have a killer running free who could potentially kill again.”

  Erica bit her lip, knowing what she was about to say wouldn’t go down well either. “I think we should look at someone else, sir.”

  “Are you talking about that little whip of a girl again? I’ve done my own research into her. She hardly seems like someone who goes around smashing grown men’s heads in with bricks.”

  “I’m aware of that, sir, but remember what they say about not judging a book by its cover?” Erica counted the points off on her fingers. “She’s been placed at the scene at the time of the murder, she has conveniently forgotten the reason why she lost almost half an hour getting from the student union to her halls of residence. We have Adam Humphries following her out of the union that night, plus she has come from a violent home, as her father is currently serving time in Dartmoor prison for killing a man in a similar way. I don’t think we can just forget all those things simply because of her appearance.”