‘He said I wasn’t to let anyone in until he got back.’
Don glared at Sheriff Mitchell, wondering if someone in his office had let something slip.
‘Jack, you need to let me in.’
‘I can’t or my dad will be mad with me, like he was last night ’cause I spoke with that English lady.’
Although the warrant allowed Blane to force entry he was loath to scare Jack by doing so. ‘It’s okay, Jack, I promise you he won’t be mad, but he’s in a bit of trouble and you can help him.’
The door opened and Jack Brennan appeared wearing knee-length shorts, a T-shirt and trainers. He was visibly agitated, a look of anxious concern on his face.
‘What’s happened to my dad?’
Blane took Jack through to the living room and told him that his dad was fine but asked if he knew where he was. Jack said he didn’t but he’d gone out early in his Park Ranger’s truck. Blane knew that as Carl Brennan would never run off and leave his son, they could just sit and wait for him to return, but he and the Sheriff agreed it was better to be safe than sorry and put out an APB on Carl. They also knew that legally they were treading a fine line by questioning Jack, but they needed to trace Carl Brennan quickly.
Blane sat Jack down and calmly explained that the District Judge had said that they could search the house and cars and held up the warrant.
‘I haven’t stolen anything,’ Jack said defensively.
‘It’s not about stealing things, Jack, it’s about the day Mandy disappeared. Did she come here with a birthday present for you?’ Blane asked.
‘No.’ Jack sucked in his breath and bit down on his lips in a childlike manner.
‘Is that the truth, Jack?’
‘Yes, you can ask my dad, he’ll tell you it’s the truth. It’s the truth, honestly that is the truth.’
The Sheriff was outside putting out the APB when Anna noticed that there was a kitchen to her left, which led her to wonder if there was a door that led out to the garage. Indeed there was and it was open. The garage was huge and would comfortably hold four cars. There was a sink in one corner next to a washing machine and dryer, and a door to the rear garden. Next to this was a wall rack with a range of neatly assembled garden tools hanging from it. There was one car, an old red Ford Fiesta, which was in good condition and well polished. Anna looked through the passenger window and was astonished by what she saw. The car keys were in the ignition and dangling from them was a tiny digital camera.
As Anna returned to the living room it was clear that Blane was becoming frustrated at his lack of progress with Jack.
‘That’s a lovely looking car in the garage, beautifully polished. Is it yours, Jack?’ Anna asked.
‘Yes, ma’am, my dad bought it for my sixteenth birthday and taught me to drive in it.’
Anna held up the Fiesta’s car key while hiding the digital camera in the palm of her hand. ‘I found this on the garage floor.’ She paused as Jack peered at the key.
‘That’s the key for my car,’ he said.
Anna let the camera fall from her palm and it swayed like a pendulum, yet Jack didn’t bat an eyelid or even break his eye contact with her. She thought this strange, particularly if Mandy Anderson had bought it for him. Blane glanced at her, as she moved a fraction closer to Jack, whose big raw hands clenched and unclenched.
‘Where did you get the lovely little camera?’ Anna asked.
‘I found it,’ Jack said, now avoiding eye contact and looking worried.
‘Mandy gave it to you on your birthday and told you not to tell anyone, didn’t she, Jack?’ Anna asked with a cheeky smile.
Jack smiled back and nodded. ‘Promise you won’t tell my dad, or he’ll be upset with me again.’
‘Yours and Mandy’s secrets are safe with me and Don. I bet she gave you a birthday card as well?’
‘Yes, she did,’ Jack said proudly.
Blane smiled at him. ‘Have you still got it?’
Jack leaned forward to Blane and whispered, ‘I hid it from my dad but you can see it if you want. It’s signed, she signed it, because it is very special, she signed, “Love Mandy”.’
‘It must have been a wonderful surprise when Mandy came round with a card and present?’
Jack looked away from Blane and shook his head firmly.
‘No, she’s never been to my house, not ever. You can ask my dad.’
Blane kept his voice relaxed and smiled, saying he’d love to see the birthday card.
‘Okay, I’ll go and get it for you,’ Jack said and dashed off upstairs.
Anna was surprised that Blane hadn’t followed up on Jack’s obvious lie and was about to ask why but he preempted her.
‘Jack doesn’t think he’s lying because he’s erased the memory of Mandy ever being here that day.’
‘But why be so open about the camera and card?’ Anna asked.
‘Because you were right, Mandy wanted it to be kept a secret. To Jack they are precious keepsakes that it would seem even Carl doesn’t know about.’
Anna agreed but was still confused as to whether or not Carl was involved.
‘Jack knows right from wrong and is not a habitual liar,’ Blane insisted. ‘He and Carl may not have spoken about Mandy since the day she went missing, but they certainly did yesterday as Carl’s phone call last night revealed.’
‘So you think that Jack telling his father about meeting me may have relit the fuse,’ Anna said.
‘And it made Carl twitchy – his call was really a fishing expedition to see what was happening.’
Jack came back into the room and proudly presented the birthday card to Anna to look at, childlike and smiling as he tapped the card in his hand.
As he did so, Blane spoke to Sheriff Mitchell, and quietly suggested that Jack be interviewed at the station by a forensic psychiatrist, who might be able to jog his memory into recall, without causing an emotional breakdown.
It was a sad moment as Jack was driven away in a patrol car. He was still smiling happily, but only because he had no real understanding of what was happening to him.
‘Any luck with Carl’s whereabouts?’ Blane asked the Sheriff as they stood in the driveway.
‘Not as yet – they put out calls over his car radio but either it’s switched off or he’s deliberately not answering.’
‘Shit. Carl’s gone to dig her up. The tool rack in the garage – there was no shovel!’ Anna exclaimed.
‘Then he has to be at the area that he made sure was never searched,’ Blane said. ‘Okay, let’s go.’
The three of them were in the Sheriff’s car in an instant, driving at high speed down the I-95, magnetic blue light flashing and sirens on. Sheriff Mitchell recalled that there was a single dirt track road into that section of woodland and it was a mile long with a dead end, so if Carl Brennan was there he would have to come back out the same way.
It was about three minutes more before they reached the location. As they drove slowly down the track they caught sight of a Ranger’s truck in the distance, at which point the Sheriff took out a pair of binoculars to get a closer look and confirmed that it was Carl Brennan’s. Turning the binoculars towards the woods he reckoned that he could just about see the figure of someone walking back towards the truck carrying what looked like a black trash bag. Mitchell turned off the patrol car’s engine and said that it was best to get out and approach on foot.
As they got closer to the vehicle a man came out of the woods, but he wasn’t carrying anything. He was tall and dressed smartly in a park ranger’s tapered grey shirt, green trousers, matching arrowhead tie and brown felt hat. On seeing them he smiled, waved and started to walk along the dirt track in their direction. Blane muttered to Anna that it was Carl Brennan, and positioned himself in front of her, saying she was to stay behind him. Anna could see that he had his right hand behind his back and was carrying a small Glock pistol, concealing it from Carl’s view. Simultaneously, Sheriff Mitchell put his hand down to his right sid
e, unclipped his holster and gripped the gun, ready to use it if he had to. Although Carl Brennan wore a holster and firearm, his hands were loosely by his sides as he approached them.
Anna started nervously as the man suddenly raised his right hand slowly upwards, thankfully past his sidearm to his hat, which he lifted and doffed politely.
‘Hiya, Sheriff, Don, everything okay?’ Carl said and placed his hat back on his head.
‘What you doing out here, Carl?’ Sheriff Mitchell asked.
‘I had a tip-off about some poachers out looking for black bears, so I came to check it out,’ Carl answered.
‘Where’s the black bag you were just carrying?’ Sheriff Mitchell asked.
Carl looked uneasy and paused, obviously thinking up an answer. ‘Oh that, it’s a coyote carcass I just found, I’m going to put it in the incinerator.’
There was a wretched few seconds’ pause, Carl’s eyes flicking nervously.
‘There’s no point in lying, Carl. We know that you falsified the Mandy Anderson search records,’ Blane said gently.
Carl’s body sagged as if he had been punched and the air drained from his body. Blane stepped forward, removed the Ranger’s gun from its holster and handed it to Sheriff Mitchell, who turned to face Carl and spoke as a friend. ‘The District Judge has issued warrants for your and Jack’s arrest, Carl, and forensics are searching the house now.’
‘Oh, dear God, I knew it, one day, oh, my God . . .’
Carl Brennan now looked as if someone had just sucked the lifeblood out of him, as ashen-faced he trembled and chewed his bottom lip. Blane could see he was close to tears, not because of what he had done but for the deep love he had for his son.
‘He’s a good boy, Don, he loved Mandy and if anyone’s to blame, I am.’
The dejected man gave a long low sigh and began to explain. He had just returned home from work that fateful day and was opening the front door when he heard Jack arguing with a girl inside the house. He went in and saw Jack at the top of the stairs and the back of the girl so he didn’t know who it was at first. Carl heard the girl say to Jack that he shouldn’t have tried to kiss her and she wanted to go home. Jack was pleading with her to stay and tugging her by the coat when Carl shouted out to the pair of them to stop and come downstairs immediately. Carl began to cry as he went on to say that on hearing his voice the girl turned sharply towards him and Jack let go of her coat, causing her to stumble forwards and fall down the stairs.
‘I heard the loud crack as her neck snapped and she ended up by my feet with her face staring up at me. Jack stood there, frozen to the spot, not knowing what to do. I told him to go to his room and stay there.’
‘He never told you Mandy had given him a birthday card or present?’
Carl looked bemused and stunned by Don’s question, as he answered, ‘No.’
‘Why didn’t you just call Sheriff Mitchell and explain what happened?’
‘Because I was scared that Jack would be arrested and taken from me. Even if I told the truth I’d just be seen as a father trying to cover for his son. It was an accident, I swear before God it was an accident.’
‘Was lying and disposing of her body worth all this, Carl?’ Blane asked softly.
‘No, but my son was.’
‘Did you tell him what to say at the time?’
‘Yes, but we never spoke about it again after that day. He’s obliterated her fall from his mind, as if she never came to the house and it never happened.’
Carl’s composure fell apart as he began to sob. He appeared to have aged twenty years in the few moments it had taken for him to explain the tragedy and kept on repeating, ‘God forgive me.’
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Over at the police forensic lab, Anna and Blane watched avidly as the two digital files on the mini-camera were loaded onto a computer. The date and time stamps showed that both were taken on the day Mandy went missing. One was of her at Prezzies gadget shop timed at 1.45 p.m., and the other sitting next to Jack on his bed at 3.10 p.m. This picture was obviously taken by Jack holding the camera up towards himself and Mandy and it also appeared that he was about to kiss her on the cheek.
‘Maybe that is what they were arguing about, like Carl said, Jack trying to kiss her,’ Anna suggested.
‘Probably, but how can a father’s love for his son result in so much sadness and misery?’ Blane remarked, visibly moved as he looked at the last pictures of Mandy alive.
‘Are we going to break the news to the Andersons now?’ Anna asked.
‘No, Sheriff Mitchell will be handling the case and knows them well. I couldn’t face them or know what to say right now.’
Anna could see how tired and upset he was so she put her arms around him and gave him a spirit-lifting hug as she whispered in his ear.
‘We could go back to the cabin, have something to eat and then start where we left off on the sofa last night?’
Blane said nothing, but from the way he squeezed her, Anna knew his answer was yes.
Having stopped to buy some chicken, ribs and side salads for a barbecue, they made their way back to the cabin. ‘Were Agent Roberts’ enquires in Jamaica helpful?’ Blane asked.
‘I haven’t had had a chance to look through the documents yet,’ Anna replied as she leaned over to the back seat to get the thick envelope out of her handbag.
‘By the amount of stuff in here, it looks like he’s gone out of his way to help me.’
‘That’s Bill Roberts for you, thorough in everything he does,’ Blane commented.
Anna began to read Bill’s report:
Copies of all the documents that I have referred to are attached to this e-mail in pdf format.
1. August 6th 2012 Samuel Peters attended British High Commission, Kingston, Jamaica and applied for a fast-track visa to attend sister Esme’s funeral. Stated he would be staying with sister Marisha Peters at 51 Clarendon House, Brixton. Biometric data, by way of photograph and fingerprints, were taken and he flew to the UK on August 8th on a six-month open return ticket. Kingston Customs could not assist me as to if or when Samuel Peters returned to Jamaica.
2. His visa application form gave occupation as fisherman living in Manchioneal Bay for last 25 years. I visited location and found it to be a small and impoverished fishing community. Samuel lives alone in a run-down wooden shack. According to friends he has not been seen since he said he was ‘going to Esme’s funeral’. They described him as pleasant but lazy, often drunk and sleeping long hours due to his love of spiced rum.
3. I attended Registrar General’s Department to check Samuel’s background further. It transpired that a Samuel Peters made Internet applications, on September 20th 2012, for certified copies of his marriage certificate to a Gloria Rediker and birth certificate for their son Arum Joshua Peters. These were sent to Marisha’s address and payment was made with her Visa card.
4. A week later Samuel Peters made Internet applications for copies of a Gloria Peters and Xavier Alleyne’s marriage certificate and their daughters’ birth certificates, Donna Mavis Alleyne, born 1986, and Aisa Moira Alleyne, born 1988. Marisha Peters’ credit card and Brixton address again used. The Gloria Peters that married Xavier Alleyne gave a maiden name of Rediker and the certificate clearly shows that she was a widow?
5. I checked to see if another Samuel Peters with similar details was dead or existed and I could not find even a close match. Therefore Gloria Peters’ marriage to Xavier Alleyne is bigamous.
6. Gloria Peters and Xavier Alleyne married in 1986 in Montego Bay, where he owned a banana plantation. After the collapse of his business Xavier died from a heart attack in 1990 aged 32. The plantation was sold to property developers after his death. Gloria allegedly moved to the UK with her daughters and obviously I will leave further enquiries concerning her whereabouts to you.
7. David and Mavis Rediker came to the island in 1975 with their daughter Gloria. David was a botanist for the Jamaican Natural History Museum in Kingston.
He died in 1982 and Mavis in 1984. The current director of the museum remembered the Rediker family and informed me that David was, figuratively speaking, ‘a victim of his own research’. He said David became addicted to and overdosed on atropine from the berries of the Sacred Datura plant. It is a member of the nightshade family found on the island and more hallucinogenic than LSD.
8. The Redikers lived in a house that was provided by the museum. After David died they allowed Gloria to remain at the premises to care for her mother who was dying from cancer. The director recalled that Gloria, then aged about 18, became pregnant by and married a fisherman called Samuel whom he described as very apathetic and unsupportive.
9. Samuel Peters has two sisters, Esme three years older, and Marisha one year younger, both emigrated to UK in 1984. I can find no record in Jamaica of them having been married or giving birth to any children.
Anna leaned back, closing her eyes. ‘Lady bloody Lynne’s a bigamist and her daughter was in an incestuous relationship! My God, this is unbelievable stuff; Josh Reynolds must be Gloria’s son. Bill Roberts is bloody amazing.’ Anna sighed with elation as she flicked through the copies of the birth and marriage certificates. She stamped her feet and banged the dashboard with excitement. ‘There’s so much information here, and boy oh boy has it thrown a bunch of spanners into the Reynolds investigation.’
‘You can forward the e-mail to your team in London when we get back to the cabin,’ Blane suggested, hoping she would agree.
‘Not yet, I need to make sense of all this first.’ She waved the documents animatedly.
Blane was disappointed, as he’d been looking forward to a quiet afternoon and evening together. ‘Would you prefer me to take you back to the Academy?’
‘No. I’d appreciate your help in trying to make sense of all this.’
He forced a smile, slightly relieved that she had not wanted to return to the Academy. ‘I’ll do my best but I don’t really know anything about the Reynolds case.’
‘Well I can tell you all about it while you do the barbecue.’
Wrongful Death Page 33
