by Mel Sherratt
Perry whistled. ‘This must be worth at least half a million. It’s huge!’
‘A nice place for a party.’ Grace turned to him before getting out of the car.
Outside, while the area was still lit up, Perry peered through a downstairs window. ‘Doesn’t look as if anything is out of place.’
Grace then tried the key in the front door. It opened to the sound of an alarm beeping, waiting to be turned off.
‘And now for my second hunch. If I’m wrong, be prepared to cover your ears. There are six numbers on the luggage label. It starts with seventeen, the number of the property, so I’m thinking …’ Grace pressed the last four numbers on the luggage label, 1794, into the keypad. The alarm was disarmed.
Perry grinned. ‘I’m impressed.’
‘I have a feeling we won’t find anything inside, but if we do, we can backtrack.’ Grace paused. ‘We’ll fetch the property keys from the landlord in the morning anyway. The main thing is we have been given permission to enter.’
Perry nodded as he got out gloves and popped them on. They walked through the large hallway, Grace’s heels tapping on the marble-tiled floor.
A grand sweeping staircase took her to several bedrooms and bathroom upstairs, and a further two bedrooms in the attic. All were done in a high spec. It was a dream home, yet there were no clothes in the wardrobes, no dressing gowns hanging on doors. There were no books lying around, no toiletries in the bathrooms. Nothing looked out of place. It was as if the house was waiting to be lived in.
She joined Perry downstairs. He was looking in a large double fridge in a gigantic kitchen with a conservatory attached that was bigger than the downstairs of her whole house.
‘Bottles of booze,’ he said. ‘No food in there, and none in the cupboards. All I can see is cleaning materials under the sink.’
‘Someone’s using it for parties,’ she replied. ‘And whoever it is has cleaned up well.’
Grace parked up outside her home and rubbed at her neck after switching off the engine. Another long day of sifting through information and intel, and trying to fathom out some answers. It was a good job at times that she didn’t have a life outside of her work. Her rules, she knew: she was a police officer first and foremost. But there were still days she yearned to have some fun. Why should she be so hard on herself all the time? It’s not as if anyone was there to tell her off.
She locked the car and stopped dead when she turned towards her house. On the doorstep was a jiffy bag. She hadn’t ordered anything online lately; she hadn’t even had time to browse on her iPad that week while watching trashy TV.
From a distance, it looked similar to the packages she’d found in her in-tray at work. Stupidly she glanced around, as if whoever had left it there would be observing her now. In her line of work, you always thought someone was watching you. It went with the territory, making it very difficult to realise when it was actually happening. A shiver rippled through her as she walked up to the front door.
The envelope was bigger than the previous ones and there was just her name typed on the label this time. There was no postage stamp, meaning it had been hand-delivered. Picking it up by its corner with her fingertips, she popped it under her arm and took it inside.
She stared at it in the kitchen while she made coffee and ate a slice of toast. She studied it, as if wishing its sender to give her a clue to its contents. Then she popped on a pair of latex gloves and opened it.
The significance hit her right between the eyes.
It was a Terry Pratchett book, the second in a trilogy. Grace had loved Only You Can Save Mankind and her mum had bought her Johnny and the Dead as soon as it had come out. An image so vivid came to her mind that she had to hold on to the worktop for fear of her legs giving way. She had been nine years old. George had found her reading this particular book and had pulled it from her hands. He’d torn out page after page as she’d cried at his feet, begging him not to. Then he had pushed it all into the fire and laughed, delighted that he had caused her so much pain.
When she was next locked in the garage, she had found a copy of the book hidden in the secret place that only she and her mum knew about. Mum used to leave her things to play with, sometimes a new toy, sometimes a bag of sweets or a comic. She had read the book several times over in the garage when she had been locked in there. She would never forget it.
Although the other toys were replicas, this looked like her original book. She flicked through the pages and, sure enough, she could see a few words written in pencil, notes she had made that she knew she could rub off so she wasn’t spoiling the book. Even bending down the corner of the page was sacrilege to her. She’d been such a bookworm.
The book had been left in the garage when she had escaped with her mum, along with several of her belongings she hadn’t taken with her. She pushed away the memories flooding back, at the same time realising it was a dead cert now that someone from her family had found her stash of secret toys in her hidden place. The Barbie doll, the yellow plastic dog and now the book.
Heart pounding, she went around the house, checking all the doors and windows were secure. Then she popped her phone on to charge before flopping down on the settee. If they could tap into her emotions like that, what else could they do? The book had been hand-delivered to her home address to make her feel insecure, and it had certainly worked. Someone must have been following her.
She went upstairs with a feeling of trepidation. From her bedroom window, she stared out into the night.
Was someone watching her now? She closed the curtains quickly to block out the thought.
Grace sat up in bed with a start. She flicked on the lamp at the side of her bed while she waited for her heart to slow down. It was three thirty in the morning. She hadn’t dreamt about George Steele for a long time. Her dreams had been filled with Matt, and occasionally her mum, who she missed dearly. She seemed to have blocked out her childhood from her nightmares, until now.
She flopped down again, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the tears. If she kept them closed, she could imagine her husband was there, lying next to her. She would feel safe that way. Nothing, or no one, could get to her.
In the distance, she heard a dog bark, a car driving past on the main road nearby. A radiator tapping. All things that usually comforted her, now they made her jump. Living alone, she realised how vulnerable she was if the Steele family wanted to come after her. Someone knew her address. Sure, it wasn’t hard to follow her home and see, or even check records. People knew people. Any piece of information was available for a price.
Someone was playing with her, but why? Who had delivered the parcel to her door? Eddie, Leon or Jade? Or even Kathleen Steele? Or maybe it was someone else entirely. These were memories she had buried a long time ago. Why would anyone want to inflict pain on her?
At five a.m., she got up and ran, hoping to clear her mind, but it didn’t work this time. As the treadmill went faster, Grace pumped her arms more. It meant she couldn’t see the faded scar of a burn along the top of her arm. George had thrown a saucepan of boiling water across the room at her. There was another scar just below it. She’d got that when she tried to stop him as he’d been laying into Mum. She had lots of reminders like that over her body; some she’d covered with tattoos to stop her remembering.
She did a workout with weights but was pacing her kitchen at seven a.m., her mind not letting up.
She had things to sort out.
FORTY-FIVE
Then
She was playing happily in the kitchen when her mum rushed in.
‘Quickly, run and hide. Your father is coming down the drive and he doesn’t look very happy. I don’t want you missing school again. I’m going to get into trouble.’
‘But I can’t leave you with him. He’s so mean.’
‘Please!’ Her mum looked towards the door. ‘Hurry!’
She ran out of the room, clutching her stomach as she did. She felt sick. She didn’t want to leave
her mum with him, but she had no choice.
Two months ago, he had broken her arm and she had got into big trouble. They’d had to go to the hospital and it was set in plaster. She had to tell the nurse a lie. That she had fallen over. Her mum said she was clumsy, but she wasn’t. She didn’t say anything though. She didn’t want to get her mum in trouble too. If she had told them it was her father that had dragged her down the stairs by her arm and then twisted it up her back until she had screamed, her mum said she would be taken away. Sometimes she thought she wouldn’t mind being taken away. But she didn’t say anything. Because she didn’t want to go in a home with naughty children.
She only had time to run into the living room. The front door opened and she heard him shouting. Her mum screamed and then she heard a thud. He had hit her again. She just knew it. She had to go and help her.
But then the fear overtook her and she lifted the tablecloth and scrambled under the table.
Even though it was right under his nose, he hadn’t found this secret hiding place yet. She closed her eyes tightly and covered her ears, but she could still hear him shouting. Her mum was trying her best to get him to be quiet and calm down.
She knew this would happen until he went to sleep. Then she could come out of her hiding place and help to clean up the mess he’d made. She’d have to be quiet, try not to wake him again.
One day she would get out of this house and she would never return. She hated it here. She hated him.
The door opened to the living room and she froze in terror. She pulled her knees towards her as she sat, hoping he wouldn’t look under the table. He didn’t; instead he sat down in the armchair.
She had to wait until she knew he was asleep until she dared come out. Finally, she heard him snoring. Slowly, she dared to lift up the tablecloth. He was out for the count but she still crawled across the room to the open doorway as quietly as she could. She held her breath, trying not to make a noise. Then, when she was out of the room, she ran into the kitchen.
‘Mum!’ she whispered. ‘What has he done to you?’
‘I’m fine.’
It was all she ever said to her. She wished they could leave right now.
Her mum was broken again. Why did he always do that to her?
FORTY-SIX
SATURDAY – DAY 12
There were only a handful of cars in the car park and no one on reception at Steele’s Gym when Grace arrived at seven thirty a.m., half an hour after the gym opened. Even though it was early, she walked right through the quiet training area and into Eddie’s office, hoping to see him before anyone else. He was sitting behind his desk, about to take a sip of something hot, but he put it down and raised his eyebrows at her instead.
‘You’re ruining my first coffee of the day.’
Grace slapped the book down on the desk. She placed the doll next to it and then the plastic dog, which she had fetched from her office.
‘This stops now, do you hear me?’ she said, her voice raspy with nerves. ‘I will not be intimidated by any of your family, or anyone, for that matter. Playing stupid games and taking my time away from my work is not—’
‘Whoa, slow down there, cowgirl.’ Eddie held up a hand. ‘Might you enlighten me on what the hell we are supposed to have done this time?’
‘These toys. No one would know about them, except you and your family. I wanted to talk to you first.’
‘What do you mean, only we would know?’
‘I’m not going to spell it out to you. Just pack in the games or I will have you charged with wasting police time.’
Eddie pointed to the things she’d dropped on the desk. ‘What have you brought those here for?’
‘Don’t tell me you haven’t seen them before. You know perfectly well what their significance is.’
Eddie picked up the doll. ‘I don’t understand. What’s the connection?’ He reached for the book, but Grace snatched it away.
‘This stops right now,’ she repeated.
Eddie stood up. ‘You think George let us have toys?’ He shook his head. ‘He didn’t like us kids and would never buy us things. So I’m not sure how you think we would be connected to these, but you’re barking up the wrong tree. Now, I have work to do, if you don’t mind.’
His full height always intimidated her, even though she tried not to show it. She swallowed as he came closer, but he walked past her and opened the door.
‘I’m not leaving until I have your word that this ends now.’ She shook her head.
‘I have no idea what you are talking about and I would be very careful who you are slinging allegations at.’ He grabbed her by the arm.
She shrugged him off as he steered her out of the room, scowling as she walked away.
When she got into her car again, Grace took a moment to catch up with her thoughts. Eddie didn’t seem to recognise any of the items, but he could be covering up for someone. And even though he didn’t have a look of guilt about him, it had to be one of the Steeles.
Once Grace had left, Eddie sat back behind his desk and tried to work out the significance of the objects. He’d been telling the truth to Grace – he hadn’t seen them before – but he knew they must have been planted by someone in his family.
Because now that Tom Davenport had been murdered, Eddie had worked out the connection to the Steeles. And that it could all be linked to the murder of his father.
He just needed to keep it from the police while he worked out what to do about it.
Grace hadn’t planned to mention anything about the book being delivered to her home address, but when she got to work and sat down at her desk it didn’t feel right keeping it to herself. She wished she could talk to her team, she needed to tell someone. So it made her feel deceitful, but she slipped into Nick’s office.
They discussed what to do – Nick thinking it best to keep an open mind and let her look into it on the quiet. She hid her surprise, because she’d thought she’d be off the case for sure. After all, the Steeles were a family of interest, and essentially they were harassing her. It had certainly become more personal. But it was his call, she’d done what she’d thought was best.
She didn’t, however, tell him she had called in to see Eddie.
She had just returned to her desk, when PC Higgins walked across to the team. ‘I’ve been asked to bring these to you.’ He placed several evidence bags on the table.
‘Isn’t that a handbag?’ Grace pointed at one of them as she spotted a flash of black leather and what looked like a handle.
Mick nodded. ‘It was found in the hedgerow of a house eight doors down from the Davenport home. The owners had been on holiday and only got back last night, so didn’t notice it until this morning.’
‘Stolen, perhaps?’ Grace asked.
‘It’s possible, because whoever put it there didn’t do a very good job. They left ID inside it.’
Perry flicked on a pair of gloves, pulled an evidence bag towards him and reached inside. There was a white T-shirt with a Staffordshire College logo on it.
‘Women’s, size ten,’ he said, checking out the label.
Grace took out items from the other bags. A lot of make-up; a purse with money in it. An open pack of condoms. A teddy bear holding a heart.
And an ID card with a photo of the young woman she had met at the college yesterday.
FORTY-SEVEN
Grace was sitting across from Charlotte Maidley, in the same room she’d been in with Kyle Fisher the day before. As soon as they were ready, she ran through the necessary and then began to speak.
‘I need to talk to you about Tom Davenport, Charlotte,’ she said. ‘In what capacity did you know him?’
The colour drained from the young woman’s face. ‘I … he was my lecturer at college.’
‘Is that all? You can be truthful with me if there was more to your relationship.’
‘We were seeing each other,’ she whispered.
‘How long for?’
‘It s
tarted just before term ended in summer.’
‘So, not long then,’ Grace acknowledged. ‘When was the last time you saw him?’
‘The day he died. He wanted to see me urgently after my last lecture. We went to have a coffee. He was upset about something, but he wouldn’t tell me what.’ She frowned. ‘And then he said he wouldn’t be able to see me for a while.’
‘Did he say why?’
‘No,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I tried to get him to talk, but he wouldn’t.’
‘What time did you leave him?’
‘It was just before six. My mum picks me up on her way home from work every evening.’
‘Did you have any contact from him after that?’
Charlotte shook her head.
‘Weren’t you upset that he wanted to cool things between you?’ Grace wanted to know.
‘I didn’t kill him!’ Charlotte burst into tears.
‘Don’t be scared, Charlotte. I’m just asking questions for now. Did you try to contact him at all?’
‘No. I didn’t like to text him too much in case someone saw it.’
‘Does anyone at the college know about your relationship?’
‘We kept it quiet. He would have lost his job.’
Grace grimaced. He obviously hadn’t told Charlotte about the allegations or the suspension.
‘Did you ever see him outside the college?’ she asked next.
‘No, just in his office.’
‘And you haven’t told anyone about him either?’
Another shake of the head.
Grace took several pieces of paper from a folder and laid them out in front of her on the desk. She tapped the first image, of the greetings card.
‘Do you recognise this?’
Charlotte leaned forward to study it. ‘I didn’t send it. What does it mean?’
‘That’s what we’re trying to establish.’
‘Well, it wasn’t me.’ She looked confused. ‘But who else would miss him?’
Grace removed some further photos from the file, pointing to an image of a handbag. ‘Is this yours?’
