by Martina Cole
Patrick stood up, scowling. As he dragged on a robe, Kate followed suit. She hoped this wasn’t trouble coming to their door. But after years with Patrick Kelly, Kate suspected that there’d likely be more to this than met the eye. Patrick still loved what he called ‘a bit of skulduggery’.
Unfortunately, that sometimes came back to haunt him.
Chapter Two
Karen Jones was a small woman with big teeth. Her long dark hair was her best feature as she was well aware. As she cut through the alley that would eventually take her out to the high street, she heard a noise. It was low, guttural, and just the sound of it frightened her. She stopped and listened again. It was quiet now but the noise had ruffled her. She could hear the cars and the bustle of the shopping area, but here in this little alley she suddenly felt a tingling of dread.
She knew she had definitely heard something and, against her will, she started to retrace her steps. At the end of the alley, near where her council flat was, she turned left into the small woods. They were dark even in this sunny weather and, gritting her teeth, she walked carefully, keeping as near to the stone wall as she could. She was taking shallow breaths; she felt as if she had a tight band around her chest preventing her from getting enough air.
The trees were rustling in the breeze, and the sound made her feel even more uneasy, but she carried on slowly, stealthily. Then she looked in the undergrowth and saw a naked leg. That’s when she started screaming.
Her shrieks soon brought her a small crowd and, as one person phoned the police and ambulance services, she was ashamed to see others taking photos with their phones of the naked girl lying there covered in blood.
Taking off her light summer jacket, Karen covered the girl as best she could till the emergency services arrived.
Chapter Three
Patrick walked into his spacious hallway and saw a man standing there. He was in his late thirties, and he had a powerful air about him, dressed in a well-cut suit and expensive shirt. He was taller than Patrick by a few inches, and he had dark hair and blue eyes. He was what Patrick would describe as ‘well set up’.
In his robe and bare feet Patrick felt at a disadvantage somehow, and that came across in his voice as he barked out, ‘And you are?’
Kate watched silently as the younger man held his hand out in a gesture of friendliness, a small smile on his handsome face.
Patrick ignored the hand of friendship and stood there silently, his eyebrows raised. He opened his arms and said with quiet intensity, ‘Well?’
The man dropped his hand and, shrugging slightly, he said, ‘Do you remember Ruby O’Loughlin?’
Patrick was perplexed at the younger man’s calm tone of voice. He clearly wasn’t in the least intimidated by Patrick and he found that disconcerting, as he did the question.
Kate said gently, ‘Shall we go out to the patio and I’ll get us some tea?’ She had a feeling that the man wasn’t here to cause outright trouble exactly – but she had a sneaky suspicion he was going to cause a lot of consternation.
‘Thank you. That would be lovely.’
The man smiled widely at Kate, and she felt an uneasiness rushing over her. He was smooth all right, she would give him that.
Unable to do anything else, Patrick had no option but to walk back through his opulent home and out on to the patio area. They all sat down on the terrace, and Beverley went off to make the tea.
‘Look, Mr Kelly, I asked you something. Do you remember Ruby O’Loughlin?’
Patrick was bewildered by the younger man’s question. Of course he remembered her – every bloke on his council estate would. ‘I do. A crowd of us grew up together.’
The young man took a deep breath and said quietly, ‘She died last month. Liver cancer.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to hear that, son, of course. But I’m fucked if I know why you are telling me about it.’ Patrick was genuinely baffled.
‘I’m her son, Joseph. And before she died she told me that you were my father.’
The shocked silence was broken by Beverley’s soft Irish brogue as she said hurriedly, ‘I’ll just put the tray here and be off out of it.’
Chapter Four
DCI Annie Carr looked down at the seriously injured girl and wondered at the terrible things people were capable of.
The doctor, a tall Indian man with soft doe eyes and a clipped British accent, was listing the girl’s injuries. ‘Trauma to the brain, serious head injuries. Broken ribs. Numerous burns, all over her. Genital mutilation. She is all but dead.’
Annie nodded; she had guessed as much. The girl had been pronounced brain dead a few hours earlier. The parents just needed to decide on giving her organs for donation before the machines were switched off.
The rape kit had been brought in earlier, and the swabs and other evidence sent off. Annie would make sure it got back to her ASAP.
They knew who the girl was; her parents had reported her missing two nights earlier. She was fourteen, and it looked like she had been tortured, raped and left for dead. Kylie Barlow wasn’t going anywhere now, that much was for certain, and what was really worrying Annie was that she had a nasty feeling this wasn’t going to be a one-off.
Whoever had done this to the child had planned it meticulously. They were evidently dealing with a dangerous predator, but she would know more after the autopsy. She ran a hand through her short greying hair and sighed heavily.
She hoped to God that she was wrong.
Chapter Five
‘I beg your pardon? Is this some kind of fucking shakedown?’
Joseph O’Loughlin just looked at him calmly, and that seemed to inflame Patrick even more.
‘Do I look like I’ve got “cunt” tattooed on my forehead, you cheeky little fucker!’ Patrick was visibly getting more and more angry.
Kate grabbed his hand and squeezed it, saying, ‘Let’s calm down, shall we?’
Looking at the man sitting opposite her, she had to admit that he did look a lot like Patrick – and that was making her wonder if there was some credence to this man’s claim.
‘Fucking calm down! He earholes his way into my house – my gaff – and tells me he’s my long-lost son, and you expect me to just swallow it? No way.’
Joseph sighed and said reasonably, ‘Mum said you wouldn’t be too thrilled. And to be frank I’m just here because I was intrigued.’
‘Intrigued, my arse!’
Patrick was staring at the younger man and Kate knew he had to be seeing a younger, fitter version of himself. Because she was.
‘Easy enough to find out.’ Kate’s voice was low, and both the men looked at her as she poured the tea from a silver Georgian teapot. ‘DNA test.’
‘If that’s what you want, I have no problem with it.’ Joseph produced an envelope and pulled out some pictures, which he placed on the table. ‘My mum, God bless her, she was a good old girl.’
Kate saw one was a photo of an attractive woman. On her lap sat two children; both had dark hair and blue eyes like their father. But it was the little girl that Patrick was staring at – it could have been his Mandy at the same age. The same crooked smile and innocent eyes, only his Mandy had been blonder.
‘That’s my son, Joey Junior, and Amanda, my daughter. Bit older now, of course, but I always loved that photo of my mum with them. She doted on them.’
Amanda, Mandy. Patrick felt as if his head was going to explode. He picked up the picture with a shaking hand, and Kate could feel the waves of emotion coming off him.
‘That could be my daughter, Mandy.’ Even all these years later he still couldn’t talk about her without becoming emotional.
It wasn’t just her dying, but the way she died at the hands of the Grantley Ripper. Kate had been the detective in charge of the case and it was how they had met and eventually come together.
Joseph O’Loughlin sipped his tea; he didn’t exactly know how to respond, so he said kindly, ‘She’s seven now, and my boy’s twelve.’
Despite himself Pat
rick had to ask, ‘What do you do? What’re you into?’
Joseph puffed up as he said proudly, ‘I’m a barrister. I deal with corporate stuff.’
There was a stunned silence for a few moments and then Pat laughed suddenly, saying, ‘Thank fuck for that! That was all I needed – a son who’s a criminal prosecutor.’
The tension broke and they laughed. Then they all became quiet once more, the incongruity of the situation making them realise that there was some serious shit to be considered with this revelation.
‘Why didn’t she ever tell me?’
Joseph shrugged. ‘You know what she was like, self-contained to the last. I also know she could be a bit of a girl when the fancy took her.’
The last remark was said with defiance, and Patrick admired the man’s loyalty to his mother.
‘I wanted for nothing, and she put me through school and university by taking on any jobs she could. She was a wonderful woman – a good laugh – but, Christ, could she be determined! I think I inherited her work ethic, you know? Then, when she knew the end was coming, she told me who my father was. I asked her if she was sure and she said yes. She also said you had been married to a lovely woman called Renée and she could not have upset your home life at the time as it would have been unfair. Said your wife was a nice person who she knew slightly. So, here I am.’
Patrick was aware that Kate’s eyes were boring into the back of his head and he didn’t have the guts to look at her. Instead he was remembering a certain summer when his wife was first ill, and how he had been struggling to cope when Ruby had walked back into his life. It had only lasted a few weeks and he had been glad when he had ended it. The guilt had eaten away at him. That was why the name Ruby had not hit home at first. It had all been so long ago and he had wanted to forget it had ever happened. Now it seemed he had left her with more than a few hundred quid and a promise to keep in touch.
‘Fucking hell.’
Joseph shrugged again. ‘I don’t want anything from you, Mr Kelly. Like I said, I was just intrigued.’
Patrick stared down at the photograph once more; she had aged well, had Ruby. But then she had always taken care of her appearance. She had liked a bit of the other and all, there was no denying that. But it was the children that drew him in here. They could be his flesh and blood, could be his actual family.
It was as if he was being given a second chance somehow. It was too much to take in. Patrick looked into Joseph O’Loughlin’s eyes and wondered if he could really be his son – and what the consequences of such a thing would be on life as he knew it.
Chapter Six
Dana Barlow and her husband, Eric, stared down at the table. Both were in terrible shock, and Annie Carr could understand that. But she needed to talk to them straightaway.
‘Have you any idea where she could have gone?’
Dana, a small woman with high cheekbones and long dark hair, shook her head vehemently. ‘Like I said before, she just went to school as usual.’
Annie knew that the girl had never reached the school, but that didn’t mean the perpetrator had picked her up that morning. If Kylie was prone to taking days off to be with friends, that could eliminate a lot of possibilities from their enquiries. Give them a starting point, other than ‘stranger danger’, a term Annie loathed. It was rarer than finding a diamond growing on a Labrador. Most children were taken by people they knew and trusted, someone the child had no reason to fear. Like with most rapes, it was rarely an opportunist responsible. It was someone close – either family or family friends.
‘Did Kylie ever play truant?’
They both shook their heads in absolute agreement. ‘No, our Kylie is such a good girl – she’s no trouble. Was no trouble . . .’
Annie heard the pain in their voices; she hated seeing people reduced to this – reduced to talking in the past tense about a loved one. Especially when it was a child.
‘Was there anyone she talked about lately, someone new in her life? Maybe a friend, or even someone she might have come into contact with through you?’
Eric Barlow looked up at her then, as if the enormity of the situation was finally dawning on him. ‘What are you trying to say exactly?’
Annie met his eye as she said seriously, ‘I know this is hard for you both, but you must be honest with me. Have any new people come into your orbit recently? Was Kylie having trouble with anyone, or did she seem worried? I know this is hard, but I really do have to ask these questions.’
Dana Barlow shook her head in anguish. ‘If we knew anything, don’t you think we would tell you?’ She started to cry again.
As Dana’s husband comforted her, Annie sighed heavily and left the room as quietly as she had entered it.
Like most people they had no real idea what their child got up to when she was not with them. That, unfortunately, was real life.
Chapter Seven
DC Margaret Dole was busy looking through Kylie Barlow’s online accounts. The girl was just fourteen but, judging by her selfie profile shot and the photographs she posted online at regular intervals, she could easily pass for eighteen or older. But that wasn’t unusual these days. Girls had so much access to everything, from cheap clothes to online make-up tutorials, that they were far more sophisticated than anyone really gave them credit for. Parents who weren’t computer literate couldn’t police what their kids were doing. But, from what she had accessed so far, Kylie was the typical teenager, trying to be older than she was, desperate to be accepted by her peer group and obsessed with Justin Bieber and the Kardashians.
Boys were also a big priority, as was hanging out with her school friends. All in all, though, there was nothing untoward that Margaret could find. She had even looked through every deleted post and Kylie’s Instagram and her Snapchat. To all intents and purposes Kylie was your average fourteen-year-old girl. Bit stupid, hated school and anything to do with homework, and she liked pictures of cute pugs and cats. In many ways she was as normal as they came.
Annie Carr listened begrudgingly as Margaret Dole updated her on the girl’s online presence. There wasn’t a great deal of love lost between the two of them. Margaret was still a bit of a loner among the team, with a natural ability to rub people up the wrong way. She’d been identified early on in her career as a ‘computer whizz-kid’ and both Kate and Annie had put her to good use over the years. The trouble was Margaret knew she was good – and she didn’t trouble to hide it.
‘Usual. Nothing. No red flags. Sorry.’
Annie had expected as much. ‘I’ll go and talk to her friends. While I do that, you can have a poke around on their Facebook accounts, see if there was anything interesting happening. Then I’m making my way over to see Megan McFee. Did you pull up the CCTV?’
Margaret nodded. ‘Got a team going through it now. I’ll call you as soon as I know anything.’
Annie nodded briskly, her glance swept around the busy office, and she wondered at the change in the place. More than ever, they were becoming reliant on the tech-savvy Margaret Doles of the world rather than old-fashioned policing and she wasn’t sure how much she liked it. Grantley Police Station was still a dump but it was gradually catching up with the rest of the world.
Maybe not before time.
Chapter Eight
Joseph O’Loughlin had left, but he had let Patrick keep the photograph. Kate watched as he stared at it and she knew he was seeing his Mandy all over again. They were due to fly to Florida in a few days and she had a feeling that was now going to be put on hold. She wasn’t too bothered about that – she was more concerned about the appearance of this young man, and his ready-made family. He seemed genuine enough. It was actually the knowledge that Patrick had done the dirty on the Sainted Renée that truly bothered her. She had really thought she knew him, and that little piece of information had thrown her off-kilter. Why something that happened over thirty years before – and before she’d even met him – was troubling her so much, she didn’t know.
&nb
sp; She walked to the wine fridge, took out a bottle of Sancerre and, pouring them each a glass, she sat back at the kitchen table with him. He sipped his drink gratefully as she said, ‘Well, that was certainly a turn-up for the books.’
Patrick ran a hand over his face and, laughing softly, he said genuinely, ‘You can fucking say that again. I can’t believe it. Old Ruby, eh? I would never have believed she could keep her trap shut like that. Just shows you, don’t it? You never really know anyone. Ruby could talk for England – in fact, if talking was an Olympic sport, Ruby could have taken the gold. She definitely had an eye for the lads too.’
Kate looked at him sharply. ‘She seems to have a done a good job with Joseph.’
Patrick smiled his agreement.
‘I’ll sort the DNA for you, get it done at the police lab. I’m still owed a few favours.’
Patrick nodded in acquiescence. ‘Best keep it as quiet as possible till we know the score.’
He was still staring at the picture and Kate felt a prick of jealousy that the dead Ruby could have given this man something she never could. It was unreasonable and it was petty, but she couldn’t help herself.
Patrick seemed to sense her discomfort and, grabbing her hand, he squeezed it tightly. ‘If this is true, Kate, it’s like a second chance for me, darling. These are my grandchildren, my flesh and blood.’
Kate nodded and tried to look pleased for him. But she couldn’t help hoping that Ruby had a type, and that type was big, dark-haired, blue-eyed men. She had been a policewoman long enough to know the score with women like Ruby; once the child arrived, they waited to see who it looked like the most.
Well, she would arrange the DNA test tout suite. Then she would see what happened from there.
