by Mel Sherratt
The arms and legs came off next; he ripped it apart in a second. Then he threw the torso across the floor.
Her heart broke in two at the same time. All she’d wanted was to fit in at school and have something to be proud of.
Her tears were huge gulping sobs by now. She tried to silence them but she couldn’t. She knew what would happen if she didn’t. But they kept on coming. How could he be so cruel?
‘Stop your whining.’ He stood in front of her, his rage burning up.
‘S-sorry,’ she sobbed.
But it wasn’t enough. He pulled the covers from the bed and grabbed her by the arm. To her protests, he marched her downstairs. She began to scream then.
‘No, Daddy, please!’ She kicked her legs out as he grabbed her by the waist and dragged her through the house. At the bottom of the stairs, Mum was sitting in a heap. She got up and ran over to them.
‘Leave her alone,’ she sobbed, reaching out to her.
George sliced his free hand across her face and her mum stumbled back, hitting herself hard on the wall.
She tried to hold on to furniture, door frames, anything, as he pulled her out into the garden. ‘Please! I’ll be a good girl.’
He dragged her to the concrete sectional garage he used as a shed. Opening the door, he pushed her inside.
‘Daddy, no!’ She held on to his waist, but he wasn’t listening.
‘You’re an insolent little bitch,’ he said. ‘You need to be taught a lesson.’
‘I’ll be good, Daddy! I promise!’
His hand cracked across her face and she cried out, holding on to it. It was enough time for him to open the door at the back of the garage and push her into the room that no one knew was there.
‘No! Please, turn on the light!’ she cried.
But the door closed behind her and she was plunged into darkness. Crying, she fumbled to the corner of the room and climbed onto the damp single bed. It was cold in there. Her teeth began to chatter. Her face was stinging where he had hit out. She was frightened, alone. But she was safe, thankful that it had been only the one slap that she’d received.
She pulled the grubby blanket around her shoulders and sobbed into the pillow. It would be morning soon and she could go to school. Get away from him. But she still wouldn’t be able to play with her friends. Her doll, her lovely new Moonlight Rose that she had been so proud of yesterday, was ruined. Even if she could put it back together again, he wouldn’t let her have it.
‘I hate you,’ she sobbed into her pillow. ‘I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.’
THIRTY-THREE
The Quarter, a quirky cafe by day and bistro during the evening, had opened a couple of years ago. It was a perfect place for Grace to meet Jade Steele on her way into town. She’d received a phone call an hour earlier from Allie, who had a woman who wanted to talk to her. She’d arranged to meet at her office that afternoon, so she could head on up to see her straight after seeing Jade.
Piccadilly had a more relaxed atmosphere than a typical high street. Its pedestrianised walkway gave it a cafe-culture feel, a few independent retailers making up the remainder of the establishments.
The Quarter had a chic appeal to it, dressers full of crockery and mismatched chairs at tables, blending in seamlessly with a bar across one wall, mirrored glass behind it to give more sense of space. People were sitting at most of the tables, the scent of coffee and baking wafting to her every few seconds. It was somewhere Grace would definitely come back to for a meal one day, especially after eyeing the menu.
She ordered a cup of tea and took a table towards the back of the room, preferring not to be seen by anyone she knew. Working meant she wasn’t able to have the large glass of wine she needed to calm her nerves. She had felt strange when she’d received the text message from Jade. She’d tried to press her during a number of further messages this morning, but Jade had insisted they meet up. Away from the station, away from the gym.
A few minutes later, the door opened and Jade came in. Catching sight of Grace, she smiled and waved.
Grace eyed her half-sister surreptitiously as she strode across the room. She still hadn’t got used to seeing someone who looked so similar to herself, although she wasn’t sure she had ever oozed as much confidence and sex appeal. Jade had her hair tied up in a ponytail that swished behind her and a large black bag hung off her forearm. She was wearing a long necklace over a woollen dress.
‘Grace.’ Her smile widened. ‘Thanks for coming. Can I get you another drink?’
Grace shook her head.
‘Well, I am gasping for a cup of coffee. I won’t be a minute.’
While she waited, Grace checked to see if any emails had come in. There was nothing new, certainly nothing that couldn’t wait.
Jade was back in a moment and sat down across from her. Grace watched as she switched her phone to silent and laid it face down on the table.
‘How’s Stoke been treating you since you came back?’ Jade asked, her smile warm and friendly as if they had known each other for ages.
‘It’s fine.’ Grace wouldn’t be drawn.
‘It’s all right, duck. That should be your answer.’ Jade smiled. ‘You need to speak the lingo now.’
Grace gave a faint smile in return.
Jade covered her hand with her mouth and retched.
‘Are you okay?’ Grace asked.
‘Sorry, certain smells have a habit of doing that to me,’ Jade explained. ‘Morning sickness – although it comes at any time of day at the moment.’
‘Oh! Congratulations.’
‘Maybe. I haven’t decided what to do about it yet. It’s complicated.’
Grace sat back, unsure how to respond to that. How cruel life could be, that Jade could dismiss it, unsure whether she wanted to keep the child she was nurturing inside her, yet Grace had lost the chance to have one with Matt. Jade certainly couldn’t be any further along than three or four months as she wasn’t showing any signs.
She tried not to think of the time that she and Matt had discussed baby names and planned when to start a family. If he hadn’t died of cancer, they might have had a child now. They were going to name it Morgan, girl or boy.
Jade leaned forward. ‘Please don’t say anything. I haven’t told anyone yet. It’s too early.’
Grace shook her head. She didn’t have anyone to tell anyway.
‘How are you settling in at the police station? I know most of your team through the investigation into my … George Steele’s murder. I like Alex. He was nice to me.’
‘You said you had something to show me?’ Grace pressed to move things along.
‘Yes, I do.’ Jade nodded, and looked back to the entrance. ‘And, here she is.’
The door opened and a teenage girl came in. Grace was taken aback. She walked across the room with as much confidence as Jade had done minutes earlier. It threw her.
‘Sorry, I was on the phone talking to Freya. She was moaning about her dad again. I can’t understand why he is so strict.’ The girl pulled out a chair and sat down next to Jade. ‘Did you order me a hot chocolate?’
‘I did.’ Jade held up a hand in Grace’s direction. ‘Megan, this is your Aunty Grace.’
As Megan gasped, Grace glared at Jade.
‘I thought you two might like to meet.’ Jade had a huge cheesy grin on her face.
For a moment, Grace couldn’t speak. Then, realising how rude it must seem, and also how upset Megan might be if she didn’t acknowledge her because she was so angry, she smiled.
‘Well, hi, Megan. This is a surprise.’
‘You’re telling me!’ Megan’s voice was loud enough for a few diners to turn and look in their direction. ‘What are you doing back in Stoke?’
Grace realised from that alone that Jade must have told Megan their history.
‘She’s going to find out who murdered Josh Parker and that other man, Dale Chapman,’ Jade told her.
Megan frowned, then as the cogs worked
in her head she raised her eyebrows in surprise again. ‘You’re a fed?’ she asked.
Grace nodded. ‘I’m a detective sergeant.’
‘In Stoke?’
Grace nodded.
‘Permanently?’
‘Yes.’
Megan gnawed on her bottom lip. ‘How long have you been back?’
‘A few weeks now.’
Megan turned to her mum. ‘You’ve known she’s been here for a few weeks and you never said?’
‘I only found out she was back last week!’ Jade held her hands up.
‘Why didn’t you tell me then?’
‘I’m telling you now, aren’t I?’
Grace sat forward. ‘Megan, I’m sorry that you didn’t know anything about meeting me today. I can assure you I didn’t know either. I came here on your mum’s request as she had something to show me and—’
‘Ta-da!’ Jade nodded her head in Megan’s direction.
Grace sighed loudly. ‘You have got to be kidding.’
‘Hey!’ Megan snapped.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.’ Grace gave a weak smile.
‘I wanted to show you your niece,’ Jade defended. ‘I know the boys are not keen on me meeting up with you, but I would love us to spend time getting to know one another.’
‘I don’t think right now is appropriate.’ Grace stood and picked up her bag. What a fool she’d been: she’d assumed Jade had something to tell her about the case. ‘I have to go.’
‘But …’ Jade’s voice trailed off as she walked away.
‘Real slick, Mum,’ she heard Megan say. Grace would have laughed if she weren’t so angry. It seemed Megan was very much like her.
But Jade should never have sprung that on either of them. If Grace was going to meet Megan, she would have wanted Megan to know before she came along too.
The more she’d learned about them, it seemed typical of the Steele family to only ever think of themselves and never about the effects their actions would have on people close to them.
She was out of The Quarter and marching away when she heard her name called.
‘Grace, wait!’ Jade ran after her.
‘That was really insensitive.’ Grace turned back. ‘And unfair too.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Jade hung her head. ‘I wasn’t thinking. I thought you’d like to meet her.’
‘You could have chosen a better way of doing things. Why didn’t you tell me first?’
‘Because you wouldn’t have come, would you?’
‘Well, you could at least have warned Megan.’ Grace lowered her voice as a couple walking past glanced in their direction. ‘It wasn’t nice for her to find out that way.’
‘She likes you. She’s just told me.’
‘She barely saw me.’
‘You could always come back in.’
Grace shook her head. ‘No, I can’t.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Jade repeated, ‘but I thought, well, you’re a brilliant role model for Megan and I wanted her to see you as a strong individual. You’ve worked hard to get where you are and I think she could learn so much from you. She’s strong too, much stronger than me.’
‘That’s not a good enough excuse.’ Grace wanted to assert her authority, show Jade who was boss, but she didn’t want to make a scene. How dare she put her on the spot like that! And what would Megan think of her now?
Instead, she left her there and continued walking up Piccadilly towards Stafford Street as she fumed.
She’d thought Jade had information, work information. But she had tricked her.
The whole meeting had been a waste of time.
THIRTY-FOUR
By the time Grace got to Stafford Street, her temper was cooling. She stopped outside the building that housed several council services and local offices, set above a stationer’s. Allie and her team were in temporary offices on the third floor, until something more suitable came along.
Allie greeted her with a warm smile. She was a striking woman, tall, with long dark hair not dissimilar to her own. Her stride was confident, her manner friendly.
‘Come on through.’ Allie pointed to the tiniest of rooms in the corner of a large open-plan floor. ‘It’s not much to look at, but it’s home for now.’
Allie brought Grace up to speed about the circumstances of the young woman who had asked to see her.
‘She’s eighteen and vulnerable,’ she finished. ‘As ever, she got mixed up with the wrong crowd.’
‘Is she trustworthy?’
‘She’s never lied to me before, and she’s someone I’ve tried to help on numerous occasions. She comes to me when she’s in trouble or in need of advice, that kind of thing. I’m not a social worker, but it goes with the job, doesn’t it? So I send her over to the support team at Striking Back upstairs if I can’t help her myself. This morning, though, she told me she wanted to speak to the police about one of the murdered men, but she would only do it with me present.’
‘Is she scared?’
‘Petrified.’ Allie picked up her notepad. ‘She’s in our interview room. It has a less formal feel to it, like a living room. We get a lot of our information through using this approach. Shall we go and see what she has to say?’
Regan Peters was sitting in an armchair as they went into the room. Her feet were curled up, shoes on the floor, revealing red chipped polish on her toenails. Her clothes looked clean, although a little big on her frame, Grace noted, but her long, lank hair was in need of a good wash. Her skin was pale, covered in spots and black rings around her eyes. The telltale life of a drug addict.
Grace and Allie sat down on the settee.
‘Regan,’ Allie said. ‘This is Detective Sergeant Grace Allendale. She’s here to listen to what you say, in the utmost confidence.’
Regan’s eyes flitted between them both before fixating on the floor.
‘Hi, Regan,’ Grace said gently. ‘Allie says you have something to tell me?’
‘He raped me.’
Grace and Allie shared a look of horror.
‘Who did, Regan?’ Allie placed an encouraging hand on the young girl’s arm.
‘That dead man.’ Regan looked up again. ‘I saw him on the news.’
‘What was his name? Can you remember?’ Grace asked, aware she needed to tread carefully to find out. She had two dead men and a vulnerable girl who didn’t trust the police and who could clam up at any time.
‘Chapman, but he didn’t call himself that.’ Regan shook her head. ‘He called himself Jenkinson.’ She shuddered as she spoke the word.
‘Can you tell me what happened?’ Allie pressed as Regan began to look away again.
‘I went to a few of his parties. I was paid two hundred pounds each time to be good to the men there. I was hungry and needed money for food.’ She glanced at them momentarily. ‘There were lots of young girls there to get the men in the mood, ply them with drink, whatever, and then there were a few of us who were paid to … entertain.’
‘Who paid you?’
‘A young woman.’
‘Do you know her name?’
Regan shook her head. ‘When I’d worked all night at the last one and everyone was leaving, she wasn’t there. So I asked Jenkinson for it and he laughed at me. He said girls like me didn’t deserve to be paid. He said they deserved to be treated badly. Then he locked the door and he … he raped me. He beat me, too. Left me bleeding everywhere.’
Grace cringed inwardly for Regan. No one deserved that. But, at the same time, this could give them another clue as to why Dale Chapman was murdered. And another name to look into.
‘How many men were there?’
‘About eight.’
‘And did you have sex with all of them?’
Regan nodded.
Both Grace and Allie understood that Regan had only given consent because she thought she was going to be paid. But they also saw that while Regan had been used by eight men, she had been raped by another.
�
�When was the last party?’ Grace continued.
‘About four weeks ago.’
‘And can you remember where the house was?’
Regan shook her head. ‘It was in Hanford – off the main road. It was beautiful and had lots of bedrooms and a large driveway.’
‘You can’t remember the street name?’ Allie asked.
Regan shook her head. ‘I was taken there by him, Jenkinson. He took me home too, after he attacked me. He told me to tell no one, and if I mentioned the house or the party, I would get hurt.’
‘Is that why you didn’t report it?’
Regan nodded again. ‘But I can tell you now, because he is dead. He can’t do that to anyone else.’ She started to cry and Allie rushed to comfort her.
Once she was settled again, they left the room, Allie promising to be back in a few minutes.
‘That poor girl,’ Grace fumed as they walked along the corridor. ‘She must have gone through hell, the bastard.’
‘I’ll get her booked in with the rape crisis team and see if we can help her with anything else.’ Allie paused. ‘If you knew him as Chapman, I assume you’ve done the necessary checks. See if he has any property in the city under Jenkinson now. We need to find that house.’ She covered her mouth with her hand. ‘Sorry, I’m telling you how to do your job!’
Grace grinned. ‘No apology needed!’
‘I think I’ll go and visit her mum too – see if she will be up to having her home again. She’s trouble, but she is so lost. She has no one to turn to.’
Grace knew that one well. They were in the stairwell now and as she turned to leave she stopped. ‘I … I hope you don’t mind, but I heard what happened to your sister. I’m really sorry.’
‘Thanks.’ Allie nodded her appreciation. ‘I heard you lost someone too. Your husband?’
‘Yes. Cancer took him.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’ Allie touched her arm.
‘It was two years ago now. I can remember telling everyone I was okay because I was tired of the sympathetic glances and the people who thought they understood me. They had no bloody idea what I went through. Did you ever get over losing her?’
