Love You Gone: A gripping psychological crime novel with an incredible twist

by Rona Halsall

  ‘We’ve got to put him on the persons of interest list then.’ Stevens wrote himself a note on the board. ‘Well done, Jackson.’

  ‘I’ve not finished yet.’ Jackson’s eyes were shining, clearly delighted with what he’d managed to find out. ‘The other thing you need to know is that the local police didn’t have time to get to the farm before the raid. But the drugs guys said that only Edward Roberts was there. No sign of anyone else.’

  Stevens frowned. ‘So where did the rest of the family go? Isn’t there Mr Roberts’ parents and his sister and her couple of kids living there?’

  Jackson shrugged. ‘Nobody knows where they are. And if Edward Roberts knows, he isn’t saying. Maybe they had a tip-off that the raid was coming? That’s the only thing I can think of. The guy I was speaking to had only just started working on the case, but he knows our investigation is connected now, so he’s going to keep us up to speed.’

  Stevens nodded and turned to Lockett. ‘So, how did you get on?’

  ‘The guy in Dumfries thought it was probably Mr Roberts and the children that he saw, especially when I sent him more pictures. But the more I pressed him for details, the less sure he became.’ She pulled a face. ‘To be honest, he sounded pissed when I spoke to him last night and not much better this lunchtime. I don’t think we can rely on him as a witness.’

  ‘But we also can’t discount that he may be right,’ Stevens said.

  She nodded.

  ‘I’ve found something,’ George said, eager to have his turn. ‘I’ve looked through the contacts on Mr Roberts’s phone and then I went through birth and marriage records and all that stuff. And I’ve found another couple of relatives. In Ireland. Seems they’re his first wife’s grandparents. Her only living relatives. She lived with them for a time when she was growing up and used their address as her home address when she and Mr Roberts got married. Their marriage certificate is from a parish near Cork.’

  Lockett got up and went to her computer, started tapping on the keyboard. ‘Just had a thought,’ she said as she typed, then leant back as she waited. She nodded, looking pleased with herself. ‘So, let’s suppose Mr Roberts was going to see his only other living relatives. If he was in the Lake District, where would he sail from?’

  The men looked at her, frowning.

  ‘Cairnryan, that’s where! It’s in Dumfries and Galloway, north of where the guy thought he spotted them at a petrol station.’ Her eyes were bright. ‘It was them, wasn’t it? I bet it bloody was.’ She picked up her phone. ‘I’ll check the passenger list.’

  A couple of hours later, Lockett and George were on their way to Ireland, retracing the steps they now believed Mr Roberts and his family had taken. They were working on their own time now, the trip outside their brief, but having started the case, the whole team was keen to see it through to the end and this lead was too strong not to follow up.

  George had managed to locate Anna Roberts’ grandparents in the residential home where they both lived, and having spoken to the manager, Lockett was feeling hopeful – it seemed they both had bright minds, even if their bodies were failing them. Maybe Luke still kept in touch with them? That’s what they hoped to find out. It was their last lead to follow up and if it didn’t go anywhere, then at least she’d know that she’d done a proper job on the case before HQ took it over.

  Although Luke and his family hadn’t appeared on the passenger list for the ferry on the Friday, Lockett had worked out the journey times up to Cairnryan and found that it was perfectly possible they were aboard, if the sighting of them in Dumfries had been genuine. Jackson had scrutinised the passenger list and although there was no Luke Roberts among all the families travelling that night, there was only one male passenger with two children in tow. A Mr Lucas Bright, with his children Tilly and Cai. And on that basis, Lockett and George had set out.

  Forty-Six

  Wednesday

  After an early start from their hotel and some time spent getting the necessary clearance for their enquiries from the Garda, it was almost one by the time Lockett and George completed their drive through Ireland.

  ‘We’re getting close now,’ Lockett said as the sign welcomed them to the city of Cork. ‘You’d better help me with directions. I’m rubbish in busy traffic, always end up in the wrong lane.’

  The residential home where the grandparents now lived was a modern two-storey building on the outskirts of Cork, set in lovely landscaped gardens – all gravel and grasses, rockeries and shapely trees, which looked good even in winter. They were shown into a spacious lounge where an elderly couple sat together in a large bay window. They seemed a little confused as to who the British cops were, and after half an hour of cryptic answers to straightforward questions, Lockett decided they should leave them in peace.

  George looked a bit downcast as they got into the car, because it was his research that had led them to the home. ‘I hope I haven’t wasted our time.’ He looked anxiously at Lockett.

  She gave him a smile. ‘Well, we know all about the lovely holiday our elderly couple had in the Lake District in 1964, but that’s about it. Couldn’t get a straight answer to anything, could we? They wouldn’t even confirm if they still owned their previous address. I know it’s still registered to them, but property sales take a while to get updated on the land register sometimes. And I suppose if they have moved into a home, they might be renting it out.’

  They mulled over the different scenarios.

  ‘Right,’ Lockett said as they set off. ‘Now we’re here, let’s visit the address where the old folks used to live. It’s as good a starting point as any.’

  The property was easy to find, standing on its own on the outskirts of a village, surrounded by fields. There was a car outside, washing on the line and four children of assorted ages playing in a field next to the house.

  George frowned and checked the address again, to make sure he’d got it right. ‘This is it. Is there somewhere we can pull over?’

  Lockett parked a little way up the road next to a derelict cottage and they got out, walking back towards the house, George using binoculars to get a better look. He watched the children, a smile growing on his face. He recognised two of those faces, faces he thought he’d never see in person after he’d found the bloodstained clothes in the binbag. He passed the binoculars to Lockett. ‘Have a look.’

  She adjusted the focus and scanned the field where the children were kicking a football. ‘It’s them, isn’t it?’ She was grinning. ‘We’ve only bloody found them, haven’t we?’

  ‘I don’t know who the other kids are. Friends, maybe?’

  Lockett thought for a moment. ‘Didn’t the Welsh force say that the rest of the family had disappeared? Maybe they all decided to do a runner? Anyway, looks like everyone’s home. Let’s pay them a visit.’

  When they rapped on the door a young woman opened it, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face fell when she saw them.

  ‘Oh, hello,’ Lockett said, all jolly. ‘Um, I was wanting to see Luke Roberts. Is he home?’

  ‘No, he’s…’ The woman stopped herself, her eyes widening before her face hardened into a deep frown. ‘I don’t know who you’re talking about.’ She gave them a tight smile. ‘I’m sorry, you must have the wrong address.’ And with that, she shut the door in their faces.

  After a moment’s silence, Lockett signalled to George that they should go back to the car.

  ‘Well, that says it all,’ she said, getting back in the driver’s seat. ‘Look no further. The missing family are here.’ She ran her hands through her hair, unsure what to think. Relief that they were alive, or annoyance that they’d wasted so much police time?

  George turned to her. ‘So, what shall we do now?’

  She was just working out what the correct procedure would be when her phone rang. It was Jackson.

  ‘Ailsa, just thought you’d like to know, the Welsh police have been on with some information they were given by Edward Roberts when he was inte
rviewed. Apparently, he’s told them everything, including the fact that his cousin was involved in the drugs business. He also said something else, something very interesting…’ Ailsa waited, wondering why he always had to do this. Why couldn’t he just spit the bloody information out?

  ‘Go on, put me out of my misery.’

  ‘You were on the money, Ailsa. Those names on the passenger list were indeed our Mr Roberts and his children. His cousin arranged false IDs for them so they could escape his marriage.’

  Ailsa laughed. ‘Way ahead of you. We’ve found them.’ A swell of satisfaction grew in her chest. It was nice to be right. But then her boss had been right as well, when he’d suggested that they had just run away. Were they running from the drugs business, or Luke’s wife? She thought it was a bit of an extreme way to get out of a marriage when all was said and done. Especially when he was an abuser. But there was so much they didn’t know and a lot that didn’t make sense. He was running away from something, that was for sure, and her job was to keep those children safe until they knew exactly what was going on.

  ‘I better speak to the boss, see what our next move is.’

  She was very much looking forward to meeting Mr Roberts now. It would be interesting to hear his version of events. His justification for all the resources that had been used in the search for him, and the bruises he’d given his wife and children. She nodded to herself as she talked to Stevens, then said her goodbyes and disconnected.

  ‘Right, our mission, should we wish to accept it, is to watch and wait. The boss is going through whatever channels he has to go through to get them picked up and shipped back to Cumbria for questioning.’

  Forty-Seven

  Wednesday

  After his conversation with Lockett, Stevens walked out of his office, a satisfied smile on his face.

  ‘Okay, Jackson, I guess this is the happy bit. Let’s go and tell Mrs Roberts that we’ve found her family, shall we?’

  They arrived at the holiday cottage to find everything was still the same, the two cars still in the drive, which was a relief, Stevens thought, because there was always a chance people might try to do a runner in these cases. Vulnerable, was how he would describe Mrs Roberts, but then, as he knew from experience, appearances could be so deceptive.

  The curtains were still closed and he wondered if she was asleep. He checked his watch to find it was just after four o’clock. Late for an afternoon nap, he thought. He gave the door knocker a few hard whacks, and they waited.

  He banged the knocker again, waited a bit longer, but there was still no reply. When he tried the door, it was locked. They walked round the back of the cottage but the back door was locked too. He sighed, went round to the front and knocked again.

  Unease prickled his skin. Nobody could have slept through the racket he’d been making, and he wondered if he’d been wrong and she had done a runner after all. There was the man she’d been having an affair with. She could have got him to come and pick her up. He pursed his lips as he thought, his heart beating a little faster.

  ‘Right, Jackson, we’re going to have to break the lock. Give it a go, will you?’

  Jackson’s eyes lit up and he hurled himself at the door. A few minutes later they were in. Straight away, Stevens could feel the absence of life in the house. It was so still, so quiet. And very cold.

  ‘Feels empty, doesn’t it?’ Jackson said, eyes scanning the hallway, wary.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ Stevens sighed. He’d obviously got it wrong, his character antennae letting him down. ‘Let’s have a quick check round, get those DNA samples, then we’ll call it in.’

  ‘Right.’ Jackson went outside to get the gloves and evidence bags, then they checked downstairs, but everything was neat and tidy, only a couple of empty wine bottles on the worktop. Apart from that there was no washing up, no mess of any sort. Stevens noticed that Mel’s coat was still on the hook by the door. And underneath sat a pair of her shoes; the ones she’d been wearing yesterday. His stomach griped. This wasn’t feeling good now.

  ‘I’ll go first,’ he said to Jackson, as he led the way up the stairs. He peered into the master bedroom but there was nothing there. He let out a long breath. ‘Go and get the DNA samples from the kids’ rooms, will you? Or there may be toothbrushes in the bathroom down the corridor.’

  He took the two bags that Jackson held out to him and headed into the en suite off the master bedroom.

  And stopped, his heart thumping so hard he’d swear he could hear it.

  Mel Roberts was lying in the bath, motionless, her face underneath the water, eyes closed as if she was asleep. A glass was perched at the end of the tub, an empty bottle next to it. And folded into the glass was a scrap of paper.

  She was very obviously dead.

  A sadness wove itself into his heart as he gazed at her lifeless form. The bruises round her wrists looked darker, more livid in the water, where her arms floated on the surface. Or was that his imagination? Maybe the action of the water or the start of decomposition? He was no expert.

  An accident or suicide?

  He picked the scrap of paper out of the glass and unfolded it, looked at the scruffy writing, which straggled all over the place and it took him a minute to understand what it said.

  I’m sorry, I can’t go on.

  He looked at her peaceful face, unable to move for a few moments. Then his brain kicked into gear and his training took over. He called to Jackson, who came dashing into the bathroom, stopping when he saw the body in the bath. Stevens noticed the lad’s face go pale and he realised it was probably the first dead body he’d ever seen.

  ‘We’re going to need an autopsy. Can you call it in?’ Jackson didn’t move, his eyes glued to the body. Stevens turned away, his hand on Jackson’s arm as he steered him out of the bathroom. ‘I think we’ve done everything we can here. Come on, we better wait outside.’

  Forty-Eight

  Wednesday

  Luke rubbed at his eyes and slapped his cheek. He’d covered too many miles over the last week, with too little sleep, and the last thing he wanted was to fall asleep and come off the road so close to home.

  ‘I’ve got to take the hire car back to England,’ Luke had said to his mother on Monday morning, having come to some clear decisions during the previous night, when sleep had eluded him. ‘Then I’ll get us a bigger car. There’s an MPV for sale near Dublin – a private cash sale, so I think we’ll be safe enough. We can all fit in that. It means a couple of days away though. Are you okay to keep an eye on the kids?’

  His mum had smiled at him, so much more relaxed now they were settling in to the new house, and that in itself made everything he had put his family through worth it.

  ‘Okay, love. That’s not a bad idea. The kids will be fine here, in fact, I think you’d have trouble tearing them away.’

  Luke knew she was right; his children were having a wonderful time with their cousins, the four of them running around like a little herd of wild animals after the restrictions of the journey and the stress they’d been under for so long. After all, it wasn’t just the adults in the family who’d had to abide by Ted’s rules, it was the children too, and although Luke knew Ted loved his nephews and nieces, his love was so oppressive they hardly dared to speak out of turn. Now he could hear them all laughing and shrieking as they ran round the field outside, playing a game of chase.

  The noise of them, that innocent laughter, was enough to fire up his resolve. He knew what he had to do, and even though his mother wouldn’t approve, it was the only solution.

  Late on Monday night, he rang his mother to check that everything was okay with the children and to find out what Ted had been up to.

  ‘It’s nearly done,’ she confirmed, relief in her voice. ‘Mel has been taken away by the police. Ted’s just got to hand in the bag of clothes, then he’s more or less finished.’

  ‘Great, Mum. Well, I’m going to turn in for the night, I’ll let you know when I’m on my way bac
k, okay?’

  He said his goodbyes and hung up, but didn’t go straight to bed. He had one more call to make that night, while his nerve held. He rang the Crimestoppers number he’d found online.

  ‘I’ve got some information,’ he said when the operator answered. His dilemma formed a hard knot in his stomach. Am I doing the right thing? He remembered his mother’s words, her tales of how Ted had controlled every aspect of their lives, not letting them have their own money, or even leave the farm. Isolating them from friends and cutting off contact from all their local connections. He remembered how he’d been moved to tears by the fact that his family had uprooted themselves for him, to help him resolve his problems.

  They did that for him.

  Now he had to do this for them.

  ‘It’s about a cannabis farm in Gwynedd, North Wales. It’s run by a man called Edward Roberts.’ He took a deep breath and answered all the questions and when he disconnected he sat for a long time, letting the enormity of what he’d done sink in.

  By Wednesday lunchtime, Luke had managed to pick up the car in Dublin and was on his way back south when his phone started to ring. He answered straight away – there was only one person who had this number, and that was his mum. His gut twisted, unsure why she’d need to contact him.

  ‘Hey, Mum, everything okay?’

  ‘Oh, Luke. Where are you?’ Her voice was shaking, panicky, and he knew there was a problem. ‘I thought you’d be back by now.’

  The tone of her voice grabbed the back of his neck like an icy hand. ‘I’m on my way. What’s wrong?’

  ‘They’ve found us. The police. They were at the door. A man and a woman.’ He could hear the short gasps of her breath, as if she’d been running. ‘What are we going to do?’