by Jane Isaac
Amanda lifted her gaze. “Thank you. For coming here to tell me.” She took a deep breath. “I’d like to be alone now.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
The rain had burst through the clouds and was hammering the windscreen by the time Jackman pulled into the Rother Street station car park. He had to drive around to find a space and finally squeezed in at the far end. In the short time it took him to cross to the staff entrance, his shirt was soaked and his hair flattened, pressing down onto his forehead.
As soon as he passed through the door he shook his shoulders, sending a spray of water droplets kicking back at the glass doors. It wasn’t until he looked up that he saw a figure hovering at the bottom of the stairs.
“Carmela. I wasn’t expecting to see you.”
She stepped forward. The jeans and raincoat did nothing to tone down her natural glamour. Her sleek hair was tied back from her face. A plastic folder tucked underneath her right arm. “Only just arrived. Tried your home. When there was no answer, I guessed you’d be here.” She smiled. “You can sack the guard dog, he didn’t make a sound.”
Jackman laughed. “He isn’t there. My neighbour looks after him when I’m at work.”
“Not the neighbour with the damaged door, I hope?”
He laughed. “No, different one.”
“Any news on that incident?”
“The woman’s still away. Uniform reached her on holiday in Wales. The door’s secure and she doesn’t seem in any hurry to come back.”
“Good job we were nearby.”
Jackman smiled and pushed a hand through his hair, loosening yet more water droplets. “Didn’t think you were working today.”
“I’m not.” She cleared her throat. “But I found some more stuff for you on protecting vulnerable people. It’s a current priority for Thames Valley Police. Thought it might come in useful.” She stepped forward, proffered the folder.
“Thanks.” Jackman reached out and nodded gratefully as he took it.
“How’s your case doing?”
“We charged this morning.”
“That’s wonderful news.”
“I’m just here to tie up a few loose ends.”
“Right. I could hang around, if you’ve time for a quick coffee that is?”
Jackman checked his watch, pulled a face. “Sorry, I can’t. I’m meant to be meeting my daughter in an hour. I really don’t mean to keep turning you down.”
“Not to worry.” Her face brightened, but her eyes looked disappointed.
At that moment, Keane and Davies crashed through the doors, a tumble of chatter and laughter, as if they’d just shared a joke. They stopped short when they saw Carmela.
“Hello again,” Davies said.
Carmela nodded at her.
Davies turned to Jackman. “Ready to celebrate?” Keane held up four pizza boxes. “Are you joining us?” Davies said to Carmela.
“Not today, thanks.”
“You’re welcome to,” Jackman said awkwardly.
“Another time, maybe.”
“Okay.” Davies turned to Jackman. “See you in a minute. Don’t leave it too long, otherwise there will be none left.” They bounded upstairs, still chuckling.
Jackman looked across at Carmela. “Sorry about that. You’ll be missing out though, sure you don’t want to join us?”
Carmela shook her head and smiled. “Congratulations on the result.” She moved forward. A brief touch on his forearm. “Let me know how it goes on Monday.”
He drew a heavy breath as he watched her walk out into the car park, scratched the back of his neck. Problem was he liked Carmela. A little too much. The heavy rain had stopped now, leaving a soft shower in its wake. He waited until she’d reached her car, turned and climbed the stairs.
A roar rippled around the incident room as he entered, followed by a couple of wolf whistles. Jackman gave a rueful smile, crossed to his office and changed into a dry shirt. By the time he emerged, bodies were standing around, sprawled across chairs, perched on the edge of desks, tucking into pizza.
Davies passed him a box of a half-eaten cheese pizza. “Didn’t know the training department was working weekends,” she said with a wink. “Must have plenty of money left in their budget.”
Jackman ignored her, leant back against the filing cabinets and shoved a slice of pizza into his mouth. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and it tasted almost as good as it smelled. The second slice went down easier. Jackman loved this part of the force. After a week of long hours, pulling together, supporting each other, often at the expense of their personal lives and families, it was good to see so many smiles. Time passed by without notice. He gave a brief speech thanking every one of his team for their input this past week. Even Janus called in to offer her congratulations, relieved at clearing two high-profile crimes from her lists. The hard graft would start again on Monday: securing a charge was one thing, building a convincing case for the Crown Prosecution Service to take to trial quite another. But for now, celebrations prevailed. The youngsters were talking about moving on to the pubs to extend the frivolities. The mature staff were starting to peel off, to spend what was left of the weekend with their families.
Jackman glanced around idly, his eyes searching the room for Davies. He moved through the bodies and finally caught sight of her in his office. She was combing her fingers through the loose curls that had come detached from her hair tie and fell across her face, poring over some paperwork on his desk.
“You okay?” he asked as he walked in.
She looked up, but her eyes were lost in thought. “Think so. Just had a thought and came to look at a call that came into the incident room this morning.”
“What is it?”
“A woman in North London. Saw the national appeal and called in. Said she had some information on the victim that might be useful.”
“What kind of information?”
“Don’t know. It was given a low priority after the charge, but something about it has nagged at me all day. The name was unusual, so I looked it up.” She passed an A4 printed sheet to Jackman. It was a copy of a newspaper article reporting a trial. “Her daughter was raped as well.”
Jackman pulled himself from the article, looked at Davies. “Not by Garrett?” Davies shook her head. “No, but I remember it in the press at the time. The case didn’t secure a conviction at trial. Just like Garrett’s.” She shook her head, as if to dismiss the thoughts inside. “Oh, I don’t know. Something about it feels odd. Why call in now?”
“We’ll bump up the priority. Follow it up first thing Monday.”
She grabbed the sheet of paper from him and placed it in a tray with a nest of other notes of phone calls still to be followed up from the public appeal. “Better get back to see if my baby boy has cut that tooth yet. What about you? Any plans with your new friend?” She raised a teasing brow.
Jackman shook his head.
“Oh, come on. You’d be mad not to see that she’s taken rather a shine to you.”
“She’s just been helping me out with something.”
“So you said.”
Jackman ushered her out of his office and back into the incident room where he bade her and the final few officers goodbye. He smiled to himself as he cleared away the last of the pizza boxes. Nothing like a group of cops to devour a takeaway.
His mobile buzzed and he was surprised to see Janus’ name flash up on the screen.
“Will, have you seen the Stratford Mail’s latest report?” Her voice was tight.
“Not just yet, I—”
“You’d better take a look. Now.”
***
“Oh, look Nance. Your article is up.” Becca sat at the table picking at a warm sausage roll while checking her iPad with her free hand.
Nancy placed the last mug on the drainer, emptied the washing-up bowl and wiped her hands. “That was quick.”
“Well, I guess she needed to process it,” Becca said through a mouthful of food. “
Otherwise it’d probably have to wait until Monday.”
Nancy leant into the screen.
The Man Behind the Fire
In the early hours of Monday 10th August, a man’s body was found in a burnt-out barn in the Warwickshire countryside, between the villages of Ardens Grafton and Exhall. Police treated the death as suspicious and launched a murder enquiry. Evan Baker, from nearby Upton Grange Farm, was reported missing and police appealed for witnesses that might have seen him on the night of the murder to come forward.
Last Thursday, police confirmed the identity of the body in the fire as Richard Garrett, although he has been living under the name of Evan Baker for some time.
Richard Garrett, originally from Northampton, was charged with rape four years ago. He was remanded in custody pending trial, but later acquitted of all charges.
Evan – also known as Richard – was out with his girlfriend, Nancy Faraday, on Sunday night to celebrate their three-month anniversary. Nancy, who is currently grieving the loss of her boyfriend, said, “This is a tragedy. Evan was a kind and loving man who will be sadly missed.”
When questioned about his change of identity, Nancy said, “People were out to out get him. Irrespective of the truth, they made judgements. Richard changed his name to Evan due to people’s prejudices.”
The police have been examining the farm since Monday, using diggers and excavation machinery.
A spokesperson for Warwickshire Police declined to comment on the use of diggers. They simply answered, “The police investigation is ongoing. If you have any information about the incident, please contact Warwickshire Police…”
The accompanying photograph was one of Evan taken off Nancy’s phone and slightly blurred.
“God, it’s awful,” Nancy said. “What about all the stuff I told her about him? She hasn’t put any of that in. Just concentrated on the trial and change of identity.”
Becca placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Nance. You knew the real Evan. That’s all that matters. Should I cancel tonight? Only with everything that’s happened…”
Nancy looked across at her friend. She’d completely forgotten that it was the anniversary of Becca’s father’s death. Becca and her mother had planned to go to the theatre in London. They marked the date every year, just the two of them, and it seemed awful for Nancy to ask them to cancel. “Of course not,” she said. “How many years is it now?”
“Seven,” Becca said. “I can’t believe how quickly it’s passed.”
“No, you go,” Nancy said. “I’ll be fine here. Just have a quiet night in.”
“Okay, well, maybe Ryan will come over?”
“Maybe.”
Becca checked the clock. “Right, I have to go back to work. We’ll never be going anywhere tonight if we don’t get today out of the way.”
***
The phone was ringing as Jackman wandered wearily back into his office later that afternoon. He grabbed the receiver, introduced himself.
“Where is everyone?” Janus’ voice snapped down the end of the phone.
“You gave them a pass for the rest of the weekend, after the charges this morning.”
A single tut clicked down the end of the phone. “I’ve just heard your statement on the news.”
Jackman sat down heavily in his chair. After the speculation in the newspaper article, he’d been forced to make an impromptu statement to the press. He’d kept it suitably vague, avoiding any mention of the work at the barn, concentrating on the arrests they’d made, the progress with the murder investigation. “Hopefully the promise of a full statement next week will keep the beast at bay,” he said.
“I’m not sure anything will keep Elise Stenson down. The sooner we release details of the cannabis cultivation the better. Enjoy the rest of the weekend and let me know if you hear anything in the meantime.”
He replaced the receiver, grabbed his coat and headed for the door. At the last minute, he remembered his wet shirt from earlier, doubled back to his office and peeled it from the back of the chair. His eyes simultaneously rested on the notes of the phone call Davies had been talking about. Against his better judgement, he picked up the woman’s contact details and the printouts, placed them in the back of the plastic folder Carmela had given him earlier and strode out of his office, pulling the door closed behind him.
Chapter Forty
Celia was brushing her mother’s hair when Jackman entered Alice’s room at Broom Hills later that afternoon.
“Hi, Dad.” She smiled.
He bent down and kissed her forehead before doing the same to his wife. “What time did you get here?” he asked.
“An hour ago. Thought we’d wait for you.”
“I got held up.” He gave an apologetic shrug.
Adrian wandered through with a couple of coffees and smiled a greeting. “Can I get you one?” he said, holding up a cardboard cup.
Jackman shook his head. “No, thanks.”
“How long have you got?” Celia asked.
“I’m finished for the weekend now.”
She beamed back at him. “That’s great. Adrian and I have something special planned for all of us tonight.”
Her obvious pleasure warmed Jackman. He listened as Celia chatted away to her mother about college. Adrian chipped in at intervals. Jackman watched him, impressed. Many of their friends and family were awkward in Alice’s presence, not sure of what to say or how to act. Yet Adrian appeared unfazed.
Jackman decided to stay on awhile after they left and read the highlights from the day’s newspaper to his wife. He flicked through, giving her one-line snippets on each article, then turned to the sports section. Alice loved sports. He was in the middle of an article on women’s football when he recalled that Adrian played basketball at college. He looked across at his wife, about to share the joke about Erik messing up Adrian’s shoes when he paused. She looked tired, the pallor of her skin tinged with grey. Now wasn’t the right time.
Jackman folded the newspaper, leant forward and pressed the button of the bed to lay her flat. The drone of the electrics filled the room. As he sat back, his mobile hummed in his pocket. It was a message from Carmela:
Hope the information is useful. Make sure you read the piece at chapter two.
The folder in his inside pocket pressed against his chest. He pulled it out and leafed through the pages to chapter two. It was headed ‘Protecting Vulnerable People’. He pictured Carmela’s face that morning. She’d gone out of her way to drive across with the information on her day off. Idly, he flicked back through her previous text messages. Memories of the other evening brought a smile to his lips.
He raised his eyes longingly at Alice. Her head rested to the side, her eyelids drooped. He looked at his wife for several minutes before his shoulders slumped. He shut down his phone, stuffed the pages back into the folder, tucked it back into his inside pocket, bid her farewell and left the room.
***
The knock at the door woke Nancy with a start. The book, balanced precariously on her lap, fell to the floor. She blinked, checked the clock. It was almost a quarter to seven. She retrieved the book from the floor, flicked through to find her place. Only a few pages into the chapter. She must have fallen asleep almost immediately after Becca had left. The door banged again. She jumped, cursed her frayed nerves and moved out to the hallway. A shadow was visible behind the glass. “Who is it?”
“Nance, it’s me. Open up.”
Ryan grinned as she pulled the door open, holding his hands out wide. He grasped a bottle of Pinot Grigio in one hand, a box of Cadbury’s Milk Tray in the other – her favourites. “Thought you might like some company.”
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said.
“It’s forgotten.” He raised his hands, winked. “Well?”
The gesture was so touching, she couldn’t resist. “I’m not in the mood for drinking, but I’ll take the chocolates.”
“Knew you would.”
S
he stood aside for him to enter, locked the door firmly behind him. “Do you want a glass for that?” she said, nodding at the bottle.
“I’d rather have a cup of tea,” he said. “No fun drinking on your own.”
As she moved into the kitchen he jumped in front of her. She caught a waft of his aftershave. “I’ll make it. You go and sit down.”
Nancy didn’t need telling twice. Every tendon in her body cried out with fatigue. She returned to the lounge, rested back on the sofa and flicked through the television channels. By the time Ryan had returned with two mugs of tea, an old episode of Friends was playing.
“Great,” he said. “Love this.” He pushed himself into the gap next to her. His skin felt soft and warm.
Nancy’s eyelids grew heavy. “I’m not sure I’m going to be up to much Ryan. I might have to go to bed soon.”
“No problem. Kick me out whenever you are ready.” He peeled the cellophane off the chocolates, pulled back the lid and placed them on her lap. “They’ll wake you up.”
They watched the screen for a while, tucking into the chocolates, drinking their tea. Time passed by easily.
“I’m going to open that wine,” Ryan said eventually. “Are you sure you won’t join me?”
She looked up at him. “Well, maybe a small one.”
Ryan retreated to the kitchen and returned almost immediately with the open bottle and two glasses. He passed one across. Sharp and citrusy, it went down easily. The theme tune to another episode flashed up on the screen. She held her glass up for a refill.
“You sure?” he said, and chuckled.
Nancy hesitated. Thoughts of her mother entered her mind. Drinking last night, the hazy recollections… “No, actually I’ll have a water. Clear my head.”
Ryan’s eyes glistened in the half-light of the corner lamp when he returned with her water. He poured himself another wine.
A party atmosphere filled the screen. Bodies were squashed into a tiny space, talking, laughing. Ryan turned to Nancy. “Do you remember when we had that party at my house, when my parents went away?”
