by Gayle Curtis
Rita couldn’t believe the cold and sudden change in the woman. It was like she’d reached the end of a scene being filmed and reverted back to her real character.
‘You really are a piece of work, Rachel.’
‘So are you, love. So are you.’ Rachel’s icy blue eyes stared right into Rita’s, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The ascending noise out in the corridor told Jody her mother had arrived at the police station. Helen was loud at the best of times, but even worse when it came to her children.
Jody was waiting in a juvenile cell because no one could interview her without an appropriate adult. Her mother had insisted on doing it but hadn’t rolled in until the following morning, so Jody had stayed there overnight, but she didn’t mind; it had given her time to think.
‘You can’t keep her in, she’s a child. If I find you’ve locked her in a shitty cell, there’s going to be trouble.’ Her mother’s voice escalated as she headed towards the room Jody was in. The boys at school called her a MILF, saying to Jody, ‘Your mum’s all right until she opens her mouth.’
Jody stood up when her mother entered the room and took comfort from her embrace. She couldn’t think about the Mackenzies – all she was worried about was Raymond’s rucksack and her dad’s laptop.
Detective Sergeant Winterton, the cop whose face Jody had spat into, met them in the corridor. ‘We just need to ask Jody a few questions, Mrs Brunswick.’
‘It’s Ms Moran, if you don’t mind,’ she said sarcastically.
‘Sincerest apologies, Ms Moran.’
‘If this is just an informal chat, why are you recording it?’ she said, once they’d sat down in the interview room.
‘We record everything, for the same reason Jody needs an appropriate adult. We’re following the procedures we are duty bound to.’
‘Get on with it then.’ Her mother folded her arms, her silver-clad fingers splattered with paint and clay.
‘Jody, did you visit Mr and Mrs Mackenzie at their home address – Mulbery House, Blue Green Square, Green-on-the-Sea – on the fourth of September this year?’
Jody looked up at the ceiling and thought about the question, placing her finger on her lips. ‘Yes. I work there between four and six most days and sometimes weekends. So yes, I guess I was there, but I think I’d have noticed if they were dead.’
‘And what did they employ you for?’ Winterton asked, clearly unimpressed with Jody’s attitude. She was talking to him as if he were stupid; being brash, hiding her nerves.
‘I helped Mrs Mackenzie with her husband – made his sandwiches, hot drinks. Sometimes she asked me to do chores.’
‘Okay, Jody, I’d like you to listen to this recording.’ Winterton pushed a tablet into the centre of the table and they all listened to Mrs Mackenzie talking to someone at the police station.
Winterton spoke over the recording. ‘At nine minutes past four in the afternoon, Mrs Mackenzie called the police headquarters and asked to speak to one of our officers. This is Mrs Mackenzie telling that officer she might have some additional information about what happened the night Raymond Hammond was murdered and Cara Fearon disappeared. As you just heard, she cut that phone call short because someone was talking to her in the background. Was that person you, Jody?’
Jody shrugged. ‘Could have been, I can’t remember.’
Winterton played the tape again. ‘Mrs Mackenzie says, “Oh, for goodness’ sake, I’ll have to go.” Was there anyone else there after 4 p.m.?’
‘It’s a big house, who knows.’
‘Were you aware that Mrs Mackenzie was a witness and had given a statement about something she’d seen the night of the murder, the same night Cara Fearon was taken?’
‘What did she see? Nothing, that’s what. Everyone knows she’s batshit crazy.’
Winterton looked at her for a long moment, then said, ‘You don’t seem very upset, Jody. You’ve just found out your employers are dead, and you haven’t even asked us how they died.’
‘None of my business, is it? They were old.’
‘When you left that night, which door did you leave from?’
‘The back one,’ Jody said sarcastically.
Her mother nudged her. ‘Oi. Stop being a twat and just answer the questions.’
‘Mr and Mrs Mackenzie both died of carbon monoxide poisoning,’ Winterton said, ‘and we’re trying to establish how that happened.’
‘Like I said, Mrs Mackenzie wasn’t all there.’ Jody tapped the side of her head. ‘Probably left the oven on.’
Winterton looked at Jody’s mother and then back at her.
‘Can we get on with this?’ her mother snapped. ‘I’ve got things to do.’ Jody was surprised how restrained she’d been up to now. She’d expected her mum to answer for her.
‘We’re nowhere near finished, Ms Moran. We can arrange for an on-duty appropriate adult if you’d prefer?’
‘No, no, carry on.’ She slumped back in the chair.
‘What makes you think it was the gas oven that killed the Mackenzies?’ Winterton continued.
Jody yawned and leant back, stretching her arms above her head. ‘How should I know?’
Winterton’s phone bleeped. He looked at the message and picked the phone up from the table. ‘Let’s take a break,’ he said. ‘Interview terminated at 9.56 a.m.’
‘What’s going on?’ Jody’s mother demanded.
‘It’s just a break, Ms Moran. I’ll be back soon.’
‘What if we want a drink or a smoke?’
‘Would either of you like a cup of tea? A cold can, perhaps?’ Winterton was being overly nice.
‘Can’t we leave?’ Jody asked. ‘I need some air.’
‘We’ll get a police officer to escort you to the yard.’ Winterton opened the door to the interview room.
‘This is fucking ridiculous,’ her mother muttered under her breath, but she was ignored. Jody strained her neck outside the door to see what was going on. The officers were at the end of the corridor, talking to someone else. Fear was beginning to creep over her body and around her neck.
‘This is against our human rights,’ her mother shouted towards the door. ‘You’re only doing this because it’s a copper’s parents who’re dead.’
‘Shut up, Mum, for fuck’s sake. You’re just making it worse.’
‘Making what worse? You haven’t done anything, so what’s the problem?’
Jody sat forward and slumped on to the table, hiding her head in her arms.
‘Jody, please tell me you haven’t got anything to do with the Mackenzies or that missing girl and murdered child. You haven’t been doing any weird shit?’ She pulled at Jody’s sleeve, trying to get her to sit up.
‘Leave me alone.’
Her mother was quiet for a few moments, then leaned in close to her. ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the fucking tree, does it?’ she hissed into Jody’s ear, then got up from the table and walked out.
‘I don’t care what you do with her,’ Jody heard her shout to the officers down the corridor. ‘Call her bloody father.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Rachel desperately wanted to speak to Dean – to see him, comfort him, tell him nothing had changed – but he’d ended the relationship following her latest arrest, telling her she was too needy and he didn’t want to get involved. She should have been concentrating on Cara’s disappearance but her head was full of Dean. She had to deal with that first.
She picked up her phone and wrote out a text.
I’m having your baby . . .
Rachel deleted this and wrote another, followed by another and another, until she settled on:
I’m pregnant and it’s yours . . . X
Dean texted back ten minutes later, and Rachel feverishly grabbed her phone. The message read:
Don’t care. Get rid.
While Rachel was formulating a reply, she didn’t hear Howard creeping up behind her. Sh
e was so used to him not being around, she’d forgotten he was there. He’d somehow been granted bail, the judge taking pity on his home situation, and Rachel hadn’t had a choice about his return – he’d moved straight back in.
He snatched her phone and pulled it out of reach when she tried to grab it back.
After a few moments, Rachel stopped fighting, all feelings of anxiety dispersing as she let go and decided to tell Howard the truth. To tell everyone the truth. It was the best she could do for herself under the circumstances.
Howard threw the phone across the floor. ‘That baby you’re carrying – if indeed you are actually pregnant – whose is it?’
Rachel shook her head. ‘Don’t do this, Howard.’
‘Whose is it?’
He was just going to keep asking. ‘It’s Dean’s.’
‘And who the fuck is this Dean?’
‘You may as well know before someone else tells you, he’s a student at the school . . .’
Howard laughed to begin with, and she realised he thought she was joking.
‘You’re not serious?’ Howard said, a look of disgust creeping onto his face.
‘Yes, very serious,’ Rachel whispered.
‘Nice. When did you start fancying young boys?’ Howard walked around the sofa and sat down in an armchair. ‘Tell me. I’d like to understand.’
‘There’s no point in talking to you when you’re like this.’ Rachel’s voice was small. She was exhausted from everything that had happened and all the lies they’d told.
Howard just stared at her. The silence carried noise, like a buzzing in her ears.
Finally he said, ‘Right, so let me get this straight. While I’ve been keeping my side of the bargain, you’ve been shagging one of your students and you decided it would be a good idea to have a baby?’
‘It just happened.’ Rachel could see he was quietly angry, and this discussion would end in him screaming at her. It always did.
‘No, go on, I’m interested. It’ll take my mind off my missing daughter. Or is there something you want to tell me about that as well?’
‘Don’t be a twat, Howard. I know you’re suffering, but you know me better than that.’
‘Ha. Do I? Do I really? Do you know what I’ve thought all this time while I’ve been waiting for you?’ He looked at her for a response, but she kept quiet. ‘That you were boffing Jason.’
‘I haven’t ever been involved with him, not like that . . . Well, okay, maybe I was flattered when he asked me if I’d give lifts to some of the talented kids who were picked for competitions and try-outs but that was it.’
‘Why did you lie about the lifts you were giving to those kids?’
‘Jason said Adrian wanted it kept quiet because of the tabloids. He didn’t want anyone knowing the names of the latest talent.’ She realised how ridiculous it sounded now.
‘And you bought all that shit? You believed they thought you were special enough to do that job?’
She stared at him with disdain. ‘And why wouldn’t I be trusted with such a job?’
‘Haven’t you heard all the things they’re saying about Adrian Player? The “gymnastics” and “football” try-outs these children get sent to? Me and Jason go back years, I know what a liar he is.’
‘You worked with him for the short time you were in the police, it’s not like you’re best buddies,’ Rachel snapped. It was one of many jobs Howard had tried and discarded; naming people his friends when they were just colleagues.
Howard gave out a frustrated sigh. ‘All I’m trying to say is, there’s a lot of stories flying around about Adrian Player, there has to be some truth in it.’
‘And that’s exactly what they are – stories . . . people trying to screw money out of Adrian. It’s a load of rubbish.’ Rachel frowned at him. ‘And anyway, you didn’t feel like that when Cara joined his club. Cara was picked for Adrian’s club. You were happy for her to go there.’
‘Is that how you ended up shagging a child, helping this Dean at the gym? He a member?’
‘He sometimes uses his dad’s membership. I told you, I know him from school,’ she said, becoming irritated by Howard’s questions. ‘You weren’t here. I was lonely.’
‘That’s just perfect. Don’t be surprised if you get hauled in about this as well.’
‘The police have already asked me some questions about it all,’ she said, biting her lip. ‘I’m on bail just as much as you are.’
‘So, while you were tossing about with this Dean, our daughter disappeared.’
Rachel looked away, thinking about the plan she and Jason had concocted for Cara.
‘You must really hate me, to do all this.’ Howard let his head rest in his hands.
Rachel looked across at him. ‘I do hate you, Howard. I think I’ve hated you for a really long time.’
‘Why did you marry me then?’ She was astonished. He had started to cry, the first time she had ever seen him so upset – or even to show any outward emotion.
‘I don’t know. I suppose I thought all relationships were like that. I hoped it would get better.’
‘You were never going to move to Wales to be with me, were you?’
They were both quiet for a while. Rachel couldn’t lie to him about that. When Howard had first mentioned his plan to scam the insurance company, she couldn’t believe her luck. Not only would she have a nice lump sum in her bank account, all their debts paid – she’d be rid of him.
‘No, I wasn’t. Nothing would have been any different, Howard. How would we have survived? Most of that money has gone, you’ve been drawing cash out all over the place.’
‘What did you expect me to do? Live on the streets and starve?’
Rachel didn’t speak; she was thinking about what she was going to do next. She needed to forget about Dean, Jason and Howard, and help herself. They were in deep trouble – she had conspired with her husband to fake his death and had pocketed a substantial amount of money from the insurance company. It was fraud and carried a far heftier prison sentence than the other crime she was being accused of. And now their daughter was missing and for the first time it seemed to hit Rachel properly. Since Cara had disappeared, she’d somehow protected herself with the notion that she was safe somewhere, just as she’d planned it with Jason, but she knew this wasn’t true. A child had been murdered and her own was missing – it was time to face the reality of the situation.
She pulled herself out of the chair and collected her phone from the floor. She was beginning to lose her grip, the enormity of the situation caving in on her. ‘I don’t care whether you’re dead or alive,’ she said, ‘but I want you to leave this house. Otherwise I’m going to kill you.’
‘I’m not going anywhere, love – and you’ll be the one leaving,’ Howard snarled at her. ‘In a body bag.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
There was something odd about Rachel and Howard Fearon; Kristen just couldn’t work out what it was. Rita had been absolutely right, there was an underlying issue beneath the shock and grief they were displaying. Kristen had thought Howard was dead and was wondering how she’d come to that conclusion. There was always so much gossip flying around the town and she tried to avoid listening to it, but she could have sworn she remembered Raymond telling her about it and she vaguely recalled seeing something in the local newspaper. Perhaps he’d just left and Rachel had told Cara he was dead – they were a strange pair, and Kristen had often felt sorry for Cara. Whenever Kristen had called to let them know if Cara was staying the night or they were going out, Rachel always seemed perplexed at why she was telling her about it.
It was the first time they’d ever been in the same room together and Kristen wondered why she thought that was unusual, as if the sudden death and disappearance of the children should have brought them all together at once. They’d been called in to police headquarters by Rita to give a televised appeal to the public, but Kristen knew there was more to it. They wanted to observe them all in fron
t of the television cameras. Rita had practically told her as much.
Nerves were heightened in the room by the threat of the cameras – none of it helped by the tension between all present. Kristen felt vulnerable, having been the one in charge of the children that night, and also angry that Rachel might be a suspect. It was a contentious situation. Every time she looked up, Howard was staring at her, clearly feeling a burning need to say something. Not that this surprised her; his daughter had gone missing while in her care. And Kristen, in turn, couldn’t help looking at Rachel, trying to detect signs of guilt.
Kristen had no doubt the police would be recording this interaction; it was such an unusual set of circumstances. There was a partition in the corner with various posters about crime pinned to it, and a table with coffee, tea and fruit juice in a large jug, with glasses and cups for them to help themselves.
‘Would anyone like a drink?’ Kristen stood up to get herself some tea, wanting to break the awful atmosphere. Neither of them answered.
Rachel seemed to let out a cry, and Kristen noticed Howard’s fingers squeezing her leg so tightly his fingertips had turned white, as if he were silently telling her to shut up. It made Kristen wonder what was wrong with herself, because she hadn’t cried since the day she’d found Raymond. She felt like a dry, curled, prickly leaf that was ready to cause pain but could be easily crushed to pieces. It wasn’t normal, she knew that. She knew she was floating on an ever-inflating balloon that was in danger of bursting at any time, dropping her to the ground with a thud. She was force-feeding herself oxygen, threatening herself to face each day.
‘It’s worse for us,’ Howard suddenly blurted out as Kristen sat down with her tea.
‘I’m sorry . . . what?’ Kristen said, her voice barely a whisper. ‘What makes you say that?’
‘You know about yours. Our child is just . . . missing. We have no idea where she is or what she’s gone through.’
Kristen was dumbfounded. ‘That’s just . . . This isn’t a competition. But if it were, I have nothing. You have hope.’
