The Forgotten Mother: A spine chilling crime thriller with a heart stopping twist (Detective Arla Baker Series Book 3)

by M. L Rose

  “Does he have a head injury?”

  “No. Just been punched that’s all.”

  “OK. Put him in the car and let’s go. Andy?” She turned to the uniformed Inspector, who had done so much to ensure the operation had gone to plan. She put a hand on his shoulder and gripped hard.

  “Couldn't have done this without you. I sense a commendation in the offing, mate.”

  Andy grinned. “Thanks guv. See you back at the nick.”

  Arla sensed Fraser shuffling his feet. She looked at him and nodded. “Do you wish to come with us?”

  He looked relieved. “Yes, I do.” After a quick chat with his bodyguard, he followed Arla and Harry as they led through the melee of sirens and flashing lights. Luke was put into a van, still handcuffed, and police escorts sat opposite him. The doors slammed shut, and the van moved out, sirens blazing. Some reporters had arrived, and they lifted cameras, popping flashlights at the blacked-out windows. As soon as the van moved away, one by one, their hungry eyes roved around. One of them glanced at Arla. Fraser was standing next to her. The Paps reminded Arla of a pack of wolves.

  “Let’s go,” she barked, pushing Fraser ahead of her. One of the Paps shouted, and several cameras clicked at once, lights popping. Harry got into the driver’s seat, and the bodyguard sat on the passenger side. With a screech of tires, the BMW took off.

  In the backseat, Arla turned towards Fraser. He looked like a shrunken, defeated man. Arla had never sat this close to a cabinet member, and she gazed at him with interest. He kept his eyes downcast. Then he looked out of the black tinted window.

  He spoke with his face averted from her. “I guess you’re wondering what’s going on.”

  Arla said, “MI5 are involved because Luke is your son. The fact that your son is making child porn and illegal films is a big problem, I know. He is wanted for that, but Special Branch or us could have handled that.”

  He nodded, face still averted. Arla waited. Eventually he turned. Colour was returning to his face, but his eyes were still dull, lifeless.

  “Luke is many things, but he’s not a killer.” He looked up at Arla then.

  She said, “Why don’t you start from the beginning?”

  CHAPTER 55

  James Fraser took his phone out. “Do you mind if I let people know that I’m on leave for the rest of the day?”

  “Sure.”

  Fraser rang a couple of numbers and spoke on the phone. He was a changed man when he addressed his team. The ring of authority was clearly back in his voice, but Arla could see the effort to maintain it.

  When he hung up, she asked, “I’m curious. Can you actually take leave like this? I mean, say this was the French minister of education. Wouldn't they be offended?”

  “I just implore someone else with an impressive title to fill in for me. Then I do that for them in return.”

  “You are a politician I guess.”

  He smiled sadly. “I suppose.” He looked down at his hands, which he clasped and unclasped. His eyebrows lowered, and his lips pressed together.

  “I don’t know what happened to David. That’s the truth. I don’t think Luke did it. He doesn’t have it in him.”

  “Beginning, Mr. Secretary…”

  “Call me James.”

  Arla pondered for a while. “OK, James,” she said slowly. “How did Luke get to be your son?”

  “David and I went to college together. David met his ex-wife there. She was my lover at the time. They got married, and life moved on. I got into politics. Became an MP. The turning point was winning my first by-election.”

  “For your career. But how did Luke come about?”

  “You need this background to understand what follows. I got married at the same time. The party came into power, and I got a cabinet job. A junior one, but still, fantastic at my age. All those years ago.”

  He paused, then continued. “But my friendship with David continued, and unfortunately, so did something with his wife.”

  Light spread across the back of Arla’s mind. “I see.”

  “Mary and I started sleeping with each other. It was crazy. I was putting my career on the line. But I loved her, I guess.” He stopped and rubbed his face. “One day she told me. She was pregnant. It was not David’s. She was sure.”

  He looked down at his feet. “I didn't want it. But she wouldn't get rid of it. She would tell David it was his, and they would live as a family.”

  Arla was listening with rapt attention. Fraser wouldn't look at her, like he was ashamed.

  “She had the baby. A beautiful boy.” The hint of a desperate smile touched his lips, before vanishing like morning dew in sunlight. “Mary sent me photos. My son.” His voice caught suddenly, and he opened his mouth to exhale.

  “If I owned up as being the father, that would’ve destroyed my career. I wouldn't be where I am today.”

  In the back of a police car. Protecting the son you ignored all these years, and who just tried to kill you, Arla thought to herself.

  “Feel free to judge me. I know I’m a…” He left the sentence dangling. He clenched his jaw, closed his eyes and exhaled. He went to open the window but Arla stopped him. It was safer closed.

  “David’s ex-wife died, right?”

  “Yes. Her death changed everything. But even before she died, I couldn't bear it. I had 2 children with my wife, but she didn't know anything. She still doesn’t. But when Luke was 10, I came clean with David.”

  Arla was surprised. “You did?”

  “Yes.” He looked up at her for the first time. “David was a good friend. I couldn't do that to him. Sounds strange, but we were like family. Luke being there actually got us closer.”

  “He forgave his wife?” Arla was thinking hard about how the wife died. Found dead at the bottom of a cliff. Was it really suicide?

  Fraser nodded. “We were older at this point. It wasn’t easy, but we had to do what was right. Besides, Luke was showing signs of difficult behaviour. He was diagnosed with ADHD.”

  “He was?”

  Instantly Arla thought of the juvenile crime record, where Luke had groped a girl against her wishes.

  “Yes. Psychiatrists were involved. He was a difficult child, despite having a great family life.”

  Was he more like you? Arla felt like asking. She kept the question to herself.

  Fraser continued. “So we kept his secret to ourselves. Telling him the truth would only upset his fragile psychology even further.”

  Arla pursed her lips. “So all these years, David knew. Then his wife died. Two years later he gets married to Cherie. Does she know about this?”

  Fraser shook his head. “Not as far as I know. She knew Luke as his son. By then, Luke and David had drifted apart. After Mary’s death, things were never the same between them.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Fraser turned in his seat to look at Arla. She held his gaze. “This is top secret, Miss Baker. I have just handed you the greatest news scoop in England. You can make or destroy me.”

  The way he said the last words bothered Arla. There was a steely gaze in his eyes, and the former, softer person was falling away.

  “What do you want?” Arla asked.

  CHAPTER 56

  Jonty was at a funeral. The cemetery was cold and damp, a leaden grey, cloudy sky above trees bereft of leaves. Jonty stood at the back of the congregation as the Vicar read out from a book.

  It was the funeral of his old boss, Darren. The man Jonty had killed. A few of his work colleagues were here too. They sat with impassive faces, some even feigned at sorrow. Jonty knew they were putting up a show. Nobody liked Darren. Yet, it was rude not to come to a funeral when invited. Jonty wondered what that said about society. It was strange how everyone had to walk around with a mask on. The mask he saw on the bus, train, on the streets and at work. No one knew what lay beneath, what unspoken visions terrorized the mind inside.

  Jonty closed his eyes. He had a
mask on too, a face that he knew was good looking, intelligent. It worked well for his purposes, especially when he had to get close to women.

  Arla Baker.

  Her face floated across his eyes. All hard lines and angles, but there was beauty there too in those brown eyes. She also had a vacant, lost look in them, a vulnerability that he found exciting. He didn't even know her, but it made him feel possessive. Soon. He would get to know her very well.

  His phone beeped. Jonty opened his eyes and looked around. It was warm inside the church, and he was comfortable. Everyone was listening to the Vicar, and no one paid attention to him. He reached inside his breast pocket and took out the mobile phone. His spine tingled when he read the text.

  Are you alright, my love?

  Yes I am. How are you?

  I’m fine. You got this new phone last night?

  Yes.

  After a pause Jonty wrote; When are we going away? For good this time.

  Soon my love. Just be patient. One more thing to do. Then we are free.

  I want to leave now.

  Look at the bigger picture. What we are trying to achieve.

  Jonty sighed. He knew better than anyone what they were trying to achieve.

  I know.

  You’re my big strong soldier. My protector.

  LOL.

  There was a pause. Then a new text appeared on his phone. I thought of her today.

  Jonty’s brows creased. He didn't know what grief or pain was. He saw it in others and knew it was a big thing for them. He wanted to understand it. What he felt now, this strange upheaval in the wilderness of his soul, was that grief? Or was it anger?

  He wrote back. I think of her every day.

  There was nothing more to say after that. No further texts came, and Jonty closed his phone and put it back in his pocket.

  The Vicar finished his sermon, and the congregation filed outside. A young woman who worked as the continuity girl in film sets came up to him. She had a lit cigarette between her fingers. She pulled on it and shivered in the cold. Her name was Emma. She was blonde and cute in a next-door girl kind of way. Not Jonty’s type. She did have a habit, in Jonty’s opinion, of being too friendly with men. The office rumours stated she was easy. Jonty hated that fact, a revulsion that shook him to his core, made him feel dirty. For her sake.

  Emma said, “Are you coming to the inauguration of Dark Dawn?”

  Jonty raised an eyebrow. “Is that tonight?”

  “Yes.” She seemed to hesitate, then lifted her deep blue eyes towards him. “Why don’t we go together?”

  Jonty smiled. “Sure. Why not?”

  CHAPTER 57

  Harry swung the car inside the rear car park of Clapham Police Station. The van had arrived before them, and an officer stood next to it, smoking. Luke had clearly been taken inside. When they got out of the car, she winked at Harry, who nodded back. He headed inside with the bodyguard, while Arla and Fraser followed.

  Fraser kept his voice low. “As you can imagine, I want my name kept out of this.”

  “Of course,” Arla kept her voice neutral. His request was entirely expected, and to Arla’s mind, spoke volumes about his character.

  “And I don’t think Luke did it. Killed David I mean.”

  “But he did make the illegal pornographic films,” Arla said. “And it doesn’t matter what you think. The evidence against Luke is damning. The murder weapon was a hammer. We found a hammer in Luke’s home.”

  “I’m a former lawyer, Miss Baker. You know as well as I do that doesn’t constitute evidence. Anyone can have a hammer in their house, indeed most probably do.”

  “He avoided contact with the police, I bet you he burgled David’s house after the murder, then tried to harm or abduct Cherie. The list goes on.”

  She stopped as they were about to go inside. Her voice hardened. “We have to conduct our investigation fully, Mr…I mean James. Then Luke will be charged. He is not exempt from the law, and neither are you.”

  His next statement threw Arla completely. Fraser leaned closer and said, “You know what it’s like to lose your own flesh and blood, don’t you, Arla?”

  She stared at him, shocked. Her eyes widened. He said softly, “What would you do if you were in my position?”

  He moved past her and into the station, leaving her standing. Arla composed herself. In the end, Luke’s crimes and James Fraser were not connected. Arla was sure he had an alibi for that evening and her gut told her he wasn’t the murderer. She didn't trust politicians. But Fraser as the psychotic killer? That didn’t fit.

  She walked inside the station and found Fraser and Harry at the front desk. Harry was introducing John, the desk sergeant, to Fraser.

  She waited till Fraser was free, then approached him. “No one from my team will leak your name. Not in connection to this anyway. The fact that you were assaulted in a packed high street might be beyond my control. For all we know, someone snapped your photo already. If and when we charge Luke, your name will not come up. Unless you try to influence the investigation in any way.”

  He lifted his eyebrows. “Not threatening me are you, DCI Baker?”

  Arla stood. “Remember what I said.” She sighed. “Look, I know this is hard for you. We need to get to the truth of whatever Luke has done. He might be innocent of David’s murder, for all we know.”

  “I appreciate your honesty.”

  Arla nodded and turned to leave. He called her back. Harry was waiting for her, a few meters away.

  Fraser came forward and stuck his hand out. “Thank you for saving my life today.”

  Arla shook his hand, then left. She filled Harry in as they walked back to the office. Heads turned as they walked in, and a silence fell over the open plan office. Arla looked at no one, and went into her office, followed by Harry.

  Lisa and Rita joined them soon after. Lisa’s face was troubled. “Boss wants you upstairs. Deakins is here too.”

  Arla groaned. Deakins, the Deputy Assistant Commissioner, wasn’t Arla’s best friend by any stretch. Him being here with Johnson was bad news. Particularly as Johnson tried to act like his best friend, eager to keep climbing the greasy career pole.

  That thought brought her own career ambitions back into focus. How long would she be DCI for? It was getting time for her to move on. A superintendent post beckoned, but she would never get it without Johnson’s blessing.

  Harry leaned forward. He smelt of aftershave, cigarette smoke and stale sweat, but it felt oddly familiar, comfortable.

  “We should go and face the music now. The longer we leave it, the worse it gets.”

  “Trust me, I know,” Arla stood. “But let’s get a coffee first.”

  She sipped her scalding coffee while Harry towered over her in the elevator.

  “Keep your cool, alright?” he asked.

  She looked up at him, at the swirl of grey in his chocolate brown eyes, his lips so full she suddenly wanted to kiss him. The elevator doors opened at that moment, killing any desire she had.

  “Come in,” Johnson barked when Harry knocked on the door. Arla could sense the quiet hostility in the room as soon as she walked in. Johnson and Deakins were sat next to each other at the table, with Nixon opposite them.

  CHAPTER 58

  Arla and Harry sat down, facing the two bosses. Nixon was to their right. He nodded at Arla and she acknowledged.

  No one said anything for a while. Johnson glared at her, and she returned his stare.

  Deakins spoke before Johnson could. His voice was calm and unhurried. “We seem to end up here a lot, don’t we, DCI Baker?”

  Arla kept silent. Deakins continued. “You disobey direct orders. Put an entire operation at risk by your reckless actions. An operation signed off by a joint task force of the Police and State Department.” He leaned back in his chair. “And then to top it all off, you go above Johnson’s head, and call up Commander Bose to shut down Kensington High Street.”

  “It’s a good job that
I did, sir,” Arla said evenly. “Otherwise the Secretary of State could’ve been killed today.”

  Johnson spoke between gritted teeth, grinding the words. “He. Had. A. Bodyguard. You didn't have to disobey me and shut down a major road in central London to protect him!”

  “Not even if his attacker was the prime suspect in our murder case? What would it look like, sir, if he was injured or worse and the newspapers reported we didn't do our job?”

  Johnson smashed his fist down on the table and the room seemed to shake. He waggled his finger at Arla, face red and bloated. “Your bloody job was to listen to me. Can you not see the harm you’ve done?”

  Deakins picked up smoothly. Laurel and Hardy, Arla thought to herself.

  “One year’s worth of work, millions of pounds, all down the drain.”

  Harry glanced at her nervously. Arla knew she should keep her mouth shut, look contrite and suck it up like a scolded schoolgirl.

  To hell with that. They didn't know to run a police investigation, that was their problem.

  She leaned forward, jerking a thumb towards Nixon. “With all due respect sir, your friend from the Intelligence service was floundering. He didn't have a clue. They had bugged Luke’s house but had no idea where he was. No money was wasted, as Luke wasn’t even there when we entered the house.”

  There was a stunned silence. Arla was breathing heavily.

  “So I did him and his whole operation a favour. Then I went and saved James Fraser’s life.”

  Arla sat back in her chair, jaws flexed, anger boiling inside her.

  Deakins spoke in his same sombre tone. “Do you think you will get away with it this time, DCI Baker? Complaints, insubordination, it’s all racking up in remarkable fashion.”

  Harry coughed. “To be honest, sir, we were never told why MI5 were involved. If we had known about Operation Condor, we would have stayed away.”

  Johnson made a sound like a wounded animal, a curious mix of a groan and a yell. “That’s why I told you to leave Luke alone, damn it!”

  Arla shook her head. “Even after all the evidence pointed in his direction? How many years have I worked for you, sir? You always told me to follow my instincts.”