One Little Lie

by Sam Carrington

  ‘What? Notice what?’ Connie was beginning to lose patience.

  ‘Okay, look. I’ll tell you in a roundabout way and you can make the obvious link. Someone was caught taking in contraband for prisoners.’ Jen flung herself back against the sofa.

  Connie pursed her lips tightly. The obvious link would be Jen herself, given all she’d said so far. Connie blew out air.

  ‘Wow, Jen. This is big.’

  ‘Yes. And I feel responsible. Well, because I’m the manager, I am responsible. That’s why I think they’ll sack me.’

  The relief oozed from Connie. Jen wasn’t talking about herself. Good job she hadn’t jumped right in with her accusation. She felt terrible even considering Jen would do something like that.

  But if it wasn’t Jen, then who had it been?

  ‘It’ll be a capability hearing first. You know how much they love those.’ Connie shivered at the thought. ‘I’m sorry all this has happened. I’m sure you did your best under the circumstances. You can’t keep an eye on your staff all the time, not when they’re all over the prison delivering one-to-ones and sessions. It’s impossible when the prison is so low on the ground, staffing-wise.’

  ‘Yes, that would be true. If it was a member of staff whose role involved prisoner contact …’

  ‘Oh, shit.’ Wherever this was going, it wasn’t good.

  ‘Yup, it wasn’t even someone who was meant to be dealing with inmates.’

  Connie’s mouth gaped. The penny dropped.

  It was Verity.

  ‘I can’t believe it, how—’

  ‘Don’t say her name!’ Jen widened her eyes at Connie.

  ‘No, I won’t. She lives near you, doesn’t she?’ Connie whispered.

  ‘A few doors up, in the new block of flats. It’s a bit awkward to say the least. We’ve been told we can’t have anything to do with her – I’ve had to unfriend her on Facebook and everything. I feel so guilty, Con. When I should’ve been managing her, I was too busy using her to run errands.’

  Heat flamed at Connie’s cheeks. Verity had been escorting her around the prison, she’d been in close contact with Kyle on each of those occasions, and Connie couldn’t swear to it that they hadn’t spoken. At some point, he’d obviously seen a way in, or out in this case, and he’d picked someone who wasn’t used to dealing with prisoners. Someone more naïve than most. It was her fault. If Connie hadn’t pushed Kyle into talking – by revealing information about her client she should never had revealed – he’d have had no need to draft in outside help. The way Verity had gone from bright, bubbly and chatty to moody and quiet made more sense now. That was the reason Verity had acted oddly the last time she’d seen her – she’d just delivered the mobile to Connie’s house. The poor girl had probably been petrified of being caught out.

  Connie would have to go to Torquay and see Verity, not only to apologise for exposing her to Kyle, but to find out who else she’d been pressured into delivering mobile phones to.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND ONE

  Deborah

  We’d talked through the night and for most of today. The pot of tea I’d made to see us through sits unfinished in the centre of the coffee table; the bone china cups contain undrunk tea, a film of milk clinging to their sides. The words we spoke were too important to interrupt with sips of warm liquid. I slump against Nathan on the sofa, silence now falling around us. The revelations have simultaneously lifted us, and weighed us down. Why did we wait so long for this honesty? Why did it take something so bad to happen again before we realised?

  I’m glad this has all come out now. I think it’s right we both know the full story. We owe it to each other – to Sean. I stare at his photo, his face young and bright; full of wonder. I sense Nathan doing the same.

  I don’t know where to go from here.

  My eyelids are heavy from lack of sleep and swollen from crying. I allow the warmth from Nathan’s body to comfort me.

  Before decisions are made, before mine and Nathan’s lives are changed even more – and irreversibly – I think I’ll go and see Connie Summers again.

  Tomorrow.

  For now, I’m going to close my eyes. Lie here with Nathan.

  For one last time.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND TWO

  Connie

  The pendulous black clouds crowded in, forcing out the light, making the early evening sky look as if it was night already. Connie told herself it was the weather making the block of flats look so ominous. The reason for her visit didn’t help.

  Jen hadn’t given any specifics about which flat was Verity’s, and she hadn’t dared ask. It couldn’t be that difficult to find her though, as, usually, the outer door had a list of occupants alongside a door buzzer. Worst case scenario, Connie would have to ring thirty-odd buzzers before she got the right one. Standing at the entrance, trying to decipher the names, Connie realised she should’ve called Lindsay first. Or Mack. But she was here now, and there was little point in wasting any more time.

  The name V. Payne was halfway down the list. The surname immediately stood out; she remembered seeing it alongside the list of names on the whiteboard inside the psychology portacabin at Baymead. Connie pressed the button and waited, shifting her weight from one leg to the other. Verity probably wouldn’t let her in. She’d realise Connie had found out, so why would she knowingly unlock her door to her?

  A click sounded. Connie pushed the door.

  She frowned. Verity had let her in without even asking who it was. Connie looked above the entrance before walking in. There must be a camera, and Verity had seen her. But she couldn’t spot one, which gave her cause for concern. Why would she let someone in before checking their identity? Connie hoped it was Verity who had operated the door’s release. This thought gave her pause and she hesitated, holding the door for a moment, considering her options. Why wouldn’t it be Verity? Connie let the door slide from her grip, hearing the clunk of it locking behind her. She was being overdramatic, she needed to get a grip of herself. She mustered her confidence as she continued inside.

  As much as she hated lifts, the stairs felt like one hassle too much, so she took it. It looked clean, decent. As she stepped out on the eighth floor, she was greeted by a blur of movement, a pull on her arm and the sensation of being dragged backwards.

  ‘You weren’t followed?’ a nervous voice in her ear asked.

  Connie yanked herself away and stood facing Verity. ‘No, I wasn’t.’ She straightened her jacket.

  ‘Good. Hurry up.’ Verity disappeared around the end of the corridor. Connie followed.

  The flat was fairly open-plan with a small kitchen off the square lounge area. Verity closed the door as Connie walked through, locking it and sliding a chain across. Her behaviour jangled Connie’s nerves. Verity moved further inside and began rearranging the sparse furniture. Sitting on a leather cube, she looked tiny. Vulnerable. She indicated for Connie to sit on what appeared to be a single chair-bed. She waited for Verity to compose herself, watching as she took a few slow, deep breaths. Finally, Verity’s posture relaxed, her face losing the tension visible moments before. Connie gave her what she hoped was a reassuring smile, then began asking questions.

  From what Verity said, she didn’t openly blame Connie. She said she’d been stupid to even speak with Kyle, let alone run an errand for him, however innocent it’d seemed. After a few minutes of talking, Connie found out it had all started when Verity had accepted a letter from Kyle. A simple enough request: Can you post this out for me, Miss? He’d cornered her while Connie was with another prisoner. When no one else was watching. Verity had been shocked he’d spoken to her, thinking he would only ever speak with Connie. She’d said that in a way she was flattered; the fact she’d gained his trust made her feel important, her role more significant than usual. Of course, Kyle knew full well it was against the rules. The post was given to the wing officer and sent out at specific times. If a prisoner missed the post, it waited until the next lot went. />
  ‘I didn’t think!’ Verity said. ‘He seemed so genuine. I was so worried the card wouldn’t get to the hospital in time – he was scared she’d die before he got to say he loved her. So, I felt sorry for him, took it, said I’d post it for him – I couldn’t see the harm.’

  This one simple act of kindness was all it took. Once she’d done one thing, he had her. The next thing he asked her to do was bring him in cigarettes.

  ‘When I said I couldn’t do it, that’s when he got funny. Said I’d already done something illegal for him …’ Verity shook her head. ‘When he explained what I’d done with the letter was wrong, how I would get the sack if he told the other staff, I realised I’d made a huge mistake. And, of course, I then brought in contraband for him because I was scared of what he’d do if I didn’t. When he asked for the next thing, I knew I was in the shit, that there was no turning back. A mobile phone. He even offered me money.’ She gave a dry laugh. ‘By that time, he said that if I didn’t agree, he’d inform my manager. No skin off his nose, he said. It would be an adjudication for him, a few days added to his sentence. Didn’t matter, he wasn’t ever getting out anyway.’ Tears dripped off Verity’s chin, she swiped at them with her hand. ‘What a mess.’

  Verity had brought in two mobile phones for Kyle as instructed. A prison sentence for her if she was caught. She knew she was in too deep then, and didn’t know what to do, who to turn to. She said she was going to go off sick, but the fear of what Kyle would say while she wasn’t there kept her going to work.

  ‘He said taking the mobile to your house was the last thing he’d ask of me.’

  ‘But it wasn’t?’

  ‘I went to my friend in security, wanted to tell him, indirectly, that I’d got involved in something bad. But he ended up mentioning that Kyle was going to be ghosted. I was walking back to the psychology office when Kyle approached me again. God, I dreaded walking the grounds on my own. Anyway, he was bruised, said he’d taken a beating and thought something was going down. Oh, God, Connie! I told him. Said he was about to be ghosted. He gave me another mobile – I assume it was the one he was contacting you on – he told me to get it out of the prison and await instructions.

  ‘And what were the instructions?’

  ‘To wrap it in a bin liner, take it to a specified area, and leave it. He said someone was going to pick it up. Said that was it, all I had to do, and it would be over.’ She took a deep breath. ‘I was so relieved to know he’d be leaving, and believed it really was over, Connie.’

  ‘Where did you have to leave it?’

  ‘The text I got first said Baker’s Park, in Coleton. But I got a second, about twenty minutes later with a change of plan. I had to go to Totnes, leave it in a bin near the top end of town.’

  Connie’s pulse tapped hard against her wrist. ‘Where, exactly?’

  ‘Castle Street, near Totnes Castle. Why?’

  Connie didn’t think it was a coincidence it was a Totnes drop; pinpointing a specific location might get her a step closer to finding fake Alice and her son. ‘Did you see anyone when you dropped it?’

  ‘I didn’t hang around, really. I did see someone – nothing more than a figure walking up the hill from the opposite direction I was going in.’

  Connie took her mobile phone from her pocket and clicked on Google Maps, then thrust it in front of Verity. ‘Show me where he was.’

  Her gut feeling was that it must’ve been Tom. It all fit. So, he did have the phone, and it was him who’d been sending the messages. The threat. The flowers. There were more questions Connie had to ask Verity – she had the feeling leaving the mobile hadn’t been the end of her involvement.

  As soon as this visit was over, whatever she found out, Connie would have to call Lindsay.

  Connie was cold, her fingers and toes numb. It had taken longer than she’d hoped to get a train back to Coleton from Torquay; several had been cancelled and she’d had to wait on the platform for an hour for one that would be stopping at her station. She kicked her shoes off as soon as she walked into her hallway and padded into the lounge, her freezing feet sinking into the soft carpet pile. The house was quiet. Disappointment flooded her. No Lindsay.

  She’d left Verity on the phone speaking to the police. Her heart ached for the poor woman – it was a terrible situation to be in. But by the time she’d finished going over all the options with her, Verity had concluded herself the only thing she could do was inform the police. Connie had agreed it was the safest option – if she didn’t, she’d always be targeted, open to being blackmailed. Connie had agreed to give a statement at a later date.

  With the TV on mute and finally feeling some warmth curled up with Amber on the sofa, Connie closed her eyes. As she drifted, she thought she heard the buzz of a mobile. Whether it was hers or the hidden one, she couldn’t tell. She was too exhausted to look.

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND THREE

  Connie

  Lindsay’s bed had not been slept in for the second night in a row.

  Connie closed the door on the empty room and went back downstairs. She’d awoken a couple of times in the night, the unfamiliar shadows created by the lounge furniture disorientating her. She’d thought about going up to bed but had obviously fallen asleep again each time. The stiffness in her joints and muscles proved she’d at least managed a few hours.

  She’d really wanted to talk over the evening’s developments with Lindsay. At least the police had been contacted though, so she’d done her bit. Almost.

  Guilt twisted her gut. She’d encouraged Verity to go to the police with what she’d done, but asked her to leave out the part about taking a mobile phone to Connie’s house. It wasn’t that she wanted to withhold information – she knew she had to tell them – but she’d rather talk to Lindsay or Mack, explain it to people who knew her. Would understand.

  After picking at her breakfast, Connie showered and dressed. She had two clients booked in for the day; unfortunately, they were spread out. She’d try to change one, bring their appointment forwards so she had the afternoon free.

  Approaching her counselling office, Connie spotted someone hovering outside.

  Deborah.

  Connie didn’t really need the distraction, but if she was here again so soon, something must be on her mind. Maybe she’d found out who and where the imposter Alice was. She quickened her pace, rushing across the road in between the slow-moving cars.

  ‘Hello,’ Connie said. ‘Wasn’t expecting to see you.’ She walked up the steps, putting her key in the front door.

  ‘Before you go in,’ Deborah said, tugging on Connie’s arm, ‘can we take a little stroll?’

  A little stroll. Connie hesitated, then pulled the key from the lock again, resigned to the fact her morning wasn’t going to go as she’d planned.

  ‘Where was Alice, the fake one, holding those support meetings you told me about? Can you show me?’

  ‘Well, yes, I guess. It’s not far from here.’

  Connie turned to her left and began walking back down the street. Deborah kept up beside her. Neither of them spoke until Connie stopped outside the church.

  ‘The hall, up the alleyway,’ Connie said, pointing to the narrow walkway that ran alongside the church itself.

  ‘Why?’ Deborah stood stock-still, her voice a whisper.

  Connie didn’t answer, assuming it was rhetorical.

  ‘Why did she lie about being Kyle’s mother? I don’t get it.’ Deborah turned now and faced Connie. ‘After four years of keeping her son’s crime to herself, she chances him being found out by pretending to be someone she’s not. Why would she do that? What was the point?’

  ‘I think the support group was her way of making amends. Or something along those lines.’ Connie tried to explain how Alice’s guilt, her misplaced sense of making things right, had compelled her to take actions most people wouldn’t even consider.

  ‘As I told you on Monday afternoon at my office, she thought she had a connection to you
because you’d both lost your sons.’

  ‘That’s exactly what the real Alice Mann said.’

  ‘I imagine they’re going through the same patterns – trying to forgive themselves via the real victim of the event. You.’

  ‘But, according to what you said before, you believe that fake Alice hasn’t lost her son at all. She’s hiding him.’

  ‘I think she must have thought she knew him, who he was. Had brought him up, believed him to be a certain type of person, then he turned out to be something quite different. In a sense, she did lose her son.’

  ‘How fucked up the three of us are,’ Deborah said, staring off into the space behind Connie. Connie turned, almost expecting to see someone directly behind her, then realised Deborah’s eyes had glazed over. What was behind those eyes?

  Secrets. Lies. The truth.

  ‘When did you last see Alice Mann – how long before her attack?’ Connie put her face in front of Deborah’s to regain her attention.

  ‘What?’ Deborah blinked repeatedly, then focussed on her. ‘Um … I can’t really remember.’

  ‘I’m trying to put some pieces together that don’t quite fit yet—’ The ringing of her mobile interrupted her. At first she was annoyed at the bad timing, but then she saw it was Lindsay calling. ‘Sorry, Deborah, two secs.’ Connie pressed Accept, and angled her body slightly away from Deborah’s. ‘Good, I’ve been trying to get hold of you. Why haven’t you been home the past two nights?’

  ‘Sorry, Connie, no time to explain now. Alice Mann has fully regained consciousness and we’ve been with her, waiting for her to talk. What she remembers about her attack is very interesting.’

  CHAPTER ONE HUNDRED AND FOUR

  Deborah

  Hearing just one side of the conversation makes me nervous. Connie has turned away from me, but I catch snippets of her dialogue:

  What does she remember?