Safe No Longer

by Gayle Curtis

  Cara tipped her head to one side, contemplating all the ways her life had benefitted from his death. ‘I was given the best education, a beautiful home to live in, I learned to speak French, the food was amazing’ – Cara paused as a few people laughed but then were quickly silenced by the inappropriateness of what she was saying – ‘and I had some peace.’

  Lester smiled uncertainly at her. ‘You had quite a traumatic life with your mother, didn’t you?’

  Cara nodded. ‘It’s difficult living with a parent who has the kind of mental health issues that my mother suffers from. A psychiatrist once said to me you can have a hundred people tell someone with a personality disorder they’re wrong, but it’ll be the one person who tells them they’re right that they’ll believe.’

  ‘But your mother hasn’t been diagnosed with a personality disorder, has she?’ Lester said, looking down at his notes in case he’d missed something.

  ‘No, but that’s what she’s suffering from. I lived with her. Trust me, Lester, that is my mother’s psychosis, and when you’re growing up with someone who has that level of denial, you believe everything you’re told.’

  ‘She had a very turbulent relationship with your father, didn’t she?’

  ‘It’s strange, but I don’t recall any of that. I think my mother just believed there was always a problem with him. It’s difficult to remember my life back then, apart from my time at Adrian Player’s gym. That’s quite clear.’

  ‘Can you tell us about that?’

  ‘There’s nothing to tell. Adrian was nothing but kind to me. He never made me do anything I didn’t want to.’ She shrugged and linked her fingers together in her lap.

  ‘So you believe Adrian Player is innocent of the crimes he’s accused of?’

  ‘No. He’s guilty, but from my point of view I agreed to everything he suggested. That doesn’t make him a bad person, does it?’

  Lester frowned. ‘It does. It makes him a paedophile.’

  Cara continued as if she hadn’t heard him. ‘Everything changed for me the first time I was forced to attend one of Adrian Player’s parties. I had been told I would be going to an exclusive try-out. But eventually I accepted it was something I had to do if I was ever going to become a professional gymnast.’

  ‘You had no idea what was expected of you?’

  Cara shook her head. ‘I went there full of excitement because I believed I was going to this wonderful gymnasium to be assessed on my gymnastic skills. It couldn’t have been further from the truth, and I left there a totally different person. That was the turning point for me. The awfulness of it only highlighted how bad our situation was at home.’

  ‘Of course, none of this was helped by the fact that it was your mother who took you to these terrible places.’

  ‘No, Lester.’ Cara laughed.

  ‘Why is that funny?’

  ‘Because my mother was so gullible. I truly believe she didn’t know what was going on. You couldn’t make it up, it’s quite comical.’ Cara leant her elbows on the arms of the chair and pressed her fingertips together. ‘Maybe you can understand my relationship with Patrick. He offered me some normality.’

  ‘I have to ask you this question, Cara. It’s one of the questions the nation wants the answer to. Did Patrick Devlin abuse you?’

  ‘No, he did not.’

  ‘And Jason Brunswick? Some people don’t accept the revelation he was an undercover police officer, and think, instead, that he was deeply involved with Adrian Player.’

  ‘I’m truly sorry about Jody,’ Cara said, her deep brown eyes staring intently at Lester.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

  Patrick poured himself some more absinthe and turned the page of the photo album he was looking at. In the middle was a packet containing lots of smaller photographs of Lorna and Cara – the two had merged. Sometimes his memory failed him and he couldn’t work out the difference, spending whole evenings staring at pictures, trying to recall when and where he’d taken them.

  A tumour, the consultant had said, situated in a part of his brain too difficult to reach. He hadn’t told Cara. He knew she’d feel obliged to stay with him and he had seen how desperately she wanted to search for her mother. Now that she was almost sixteen, she’d decided she wanted answers about her father’s death. He had no idea what the consequences of her return would be, what people would say, or how sensational the story would be. He picked up the bottle of pills and began shaking them on to the tablecloth.

  Patrick could still recall the night he’d found her in the back of his truck, shaking so badly she couldn’t speak. He had been angry with Rachel and even more so when Cara told him about the kidnapping. Rachel didn’t deserve a child and this was the reason that weighed heavy on his decision not to take her back. Late on Tuesday evening, he’d sat at the kitchen table of the cottage he’d planned to retire in, poured himself a large brandy and talked himself through all the options. This thinking went on for two days, while Cara slept upstairs in the guest room he’d made up for her. In the end, he decided that taking her back would make it look like he was guilty, like he’d abducted her, seen the news coverage, realised the enormity of the situation and made up a lame story that he’d found her in his truck. Plus, there was Raymond, and he didn’t want to be accused of something he hadn’t done. He wasn’t prepared to risk it. He’d lost his wife and his daughter, leaving him broken, and all he’d wanted to do was enjoy what life he had left in the house that had taken him two years to buy.

  Sleep-deprived from the worry, the longer Patrick left it, the worse it all seemed. Eventually, he’d decided he would have to make the best of the situation. The days passed in a flash, as though Cara belonged with him. Suddenly he was making a new life for himself with his daughter and telling anyone he met that he and Lorna had moved to France following the death of his wife. Cara didn’t say a word. She went along with it all, which he found strange, but he’d assumed she was so traumatised from whatever had happened that night on Blue Green Square that she simply wanted to feel safe. It all felt real, like someone had reversed time and brought Lorna back from the dead. They’d spoken to no one to begin with; the fewer people got to know them, the better. There were only a few citizens living in the small hamlet, enjoying a solitary life. Probably with secrets of their own, as it seemed they too didn’t want to be questioned about their past.

  About three months into this seemingly idyllic life, Cara had told Patrick what had happened on that fateful bank holiday weekend, and he found himself beginning to wonder if he should have taken her home after all.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

  THE LESTER BARCLAY SHOW

  It was the second and final day of the live interview with Cara, and the publicity had been phenomenal. She hadn’t realised how many people loved her, all strangers she didn’t know. They’d searched for her, kept her memory alive. Some had made it their life’s purpose to find her and uncover the truth. What they didn’t know was that Cara hadn’t been missing for all those years. She’d been on the run, escaping justice.

  Cara had heard Jody calling her from across the other side of the green, just as she’d begun to run from Raymond’s body. Cara had assumed Jody had seen what she’d done. For a long, electrified moment they’d simply stared at one another from a distance, and then Cara had started running and Jody had chased her. It wasn’t until some time later that Cara realised she had it all wrong.

  When Cara read about the Mackenzie case – how Jody had killed the old couple to protect her father, believing he might have had something to do with Raymond’s murder and Cara’s disappearance and could be implicated – she realised Jody hadn’t imagined she’d had anything to do with Raymond’s death.

  Cara had been so jealous of Raymond. It had begun to destroy her until she felt like she was corroding like the rusty pieces of metal she’d seen washed up on the beach. Adrian wasn’t interested in making her a famous gymnast any more, as had been promised; he now had his eye on other talent
, mainly Raymond. Seeing how much Jody loved Raymond put a match to Cara’s fury too, she was so jealous. That night in the tent, she’d asked Jody why she didn’t like her but she hadn’t given her an answer. Instead, Jody had told her that if she passed an initiation test, she would like her just as much as Raymond. The older girl had handed Cara a penknife and told her to cut her wrist. Raymond had sat there wide-eyed and then laughed along with Jody when – as a small drop of blood began to creep along Cara’s arm and dripped on to the floor – she’d told her it was just a joke and she still hated her. After Jody had left them in the tent, she’d determined to make an example of Raymond – that would teach them. She crept past Kristen who was fast asleep on the sofa and went into the downstairs toilet to rinse her bleeding wrist. She gave it a shake, as if this would stop the pain but it just throbbed. She stuck some toilet roll on it and pulled her sleeve over the small cut. In the kitchen, searching for string, she found a brand-new bag of large cable ties in the back of the dresser drawer. Then, she crept outside and asked Raymond if he wanted to play a game of kidnap. Fired up from the ghost stories, he’d been eager to play a macabre game.

  ‘You’re the murderer and you have to catch me,’ he’d said excitedly.

  ‘We have to be quiet though, we don’t want to wake your mum,’ Cara had whispered, removing some cable ties from the bag and putting the rest in her pocket. Then she checked her phone for the time, ignoring her mother’s text and making sure it was well after 3.30 a.m. and Jason wouldn’t be waiting for her any longer. ‘Let’s play out on the green. There’s no one about there.’

  It didn’t take long for Cara to catch Raymond; she was taller and able to run faster than the slight boy. Giggling with excitement, he let her tie his hands behind his back. Even put a cable tie around his neck and push him to the ground, but he hit his head on the heavy metal bin on the way down, knocking him clean out. At first, Cara tried to loosen the cable tie around his neck, but she ended up tightening it. She pulled it harder, wanting to see how it made her feel, the adrenalin from the chase firing through her, along with all her jealousy. Then she pulled the cable tie tight and strangled the life out of him.

  It had been a pure stroke of good fortune that she’d ended up in France with Patrick. After five years, she’d convinced him to let her return, telling him the story that she wanted to find her family, but it wasn’t true. She’d seen the publicity about DCI Rita Cannan appearing on a televised interview with Lester Barclay and it had made her furious. Cara loved Adrian Player – he had chosen her, seen what was special in her – and she wanted to make the detective pay for the lies she was telling. She’d come back, hidden herself away in the flat Patrick had organised for her, and spent the first few weeks leaving gifts on the Cannans’ doorstep, notes on Rita’s windscreen, enjoying the thrill of taunting her, the woman who’d sought to persecute Adrian, the only man who’d ever paid Cara any attention before Patrick came along.

  No one in the television studio suspected a young girl would shoot anyone; it was as though she’d been rendered invisible. Patrick would’ve been immensely proud of her marksmanship with his weapon; they were members of a gun club in France, one of many hobbies they had enjoyed together. Although he’d be horrified about what she’d used the skill for, or that she’d stolen a gun from him, hidden it in his car and driven all the way from France to the UK with it. She’d fired from the doorway to an exit corridor, then merely stepped back inside, peeled off the oversized black tracksuit she’d worn over her jeans and top, and walked out of the building, the Glock she’d used to shoot Rita shoved in a large tote bag beneath the discarded clothes.

  From there, she’d caught the train to Norfolk in search of Jody – who, she’d discovered from the papers, had been released and was possibly living near Blue Green Square. It was pure fluke she spotted her walking up Kristen Hammond’s front path. It was Cara’s turn to be in the limelight, and she wasn’t going to let Jody get in the way of that.

  ‘There’s been offers for a book,’ Lester was saying to her. ‘There’s even talk of a film deal, even though none of us know what happened on Blue Green Square that fateful bank holiday weekend. As tragic as these circumstances are, you must be excited about the future?’

  ‘Extremely excited. I’m looking forward to continuing a happy life.’

  ‘Will you return to France to see Patrick, the man you’ve called your father for over five years?’

  ‘Definitely. He’s my family now. Once I’ve told my story, I’ll return to him.’ Cara rubbed the arms of the chair, preparing herself for what Lester was about to ask.

  ‘So, Cara, in your own time, tell us what happened in the early hours of bank holiday Monday. Who murdered Raymond Hammond?’

  Cara paused long enough to ramp up the drama, enjoying this newfound fame and all it promised. She looked around the audience. The silence was deafening, and she smiled at the faces anticipating her answer.

  ‘It was the undercover police officer, Jason Brunswick.’

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Apart from the dedication in the front, this book is also for C, M and M, who in my opinion have been humble warriors in the fight against child abuse and the reason I wanted to tell this story.

  A huge thank you to the best literary agents I could wish for, my friends and constants, Paul and Susan Feldstein. Major thanks to all at Thomas & Mercer who have worked on this book, especially Jack Butler. My editors, David Downing, who I have such a giggle with, Gemma Wain, Swati Gamble, Jill Sawyer and the team. The amazing cover creators, everyone at Brilliance Publishing, and to Esther Wane for her excellent narration.

  My lovely parents, Joyce and Doug Carter, for their endless faith and support.

  As always, love to my Facebook family who never fail to astound me with their ongoing support. A special thanks to Bev Langridge and Laura Steward for telling everyone they meet to read my books. Also, Fiona Murray, Arnie Cronin, Nicki and Martin Plaice, Catherine and Marty McMechan, Alison Stewart, Nikki Frater, Mick Gibson, Ron Fairbrother, Maisie Burrows and the Wrights, Jamie and Kelly Cloudesley, thanks to you all for the huge support and giggles. Thank you to Jeanne and Dougie Terry who showed us the magic of Veridy and gave me permission to use it for some of the scenery. Cheers to Ricky Bonner and Stuart Day for lugging my huge desk upstairs – I’m still avoiding it in favour of the sofa . . .

  And last but not least because I promised I wouldn’t forget again, my beloved Christopher, my best friend and handy man – here’s to another twenty years of laughter.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Photo © 2014 Jamie Maxwell

  When Gayle was five years old, she packed her little red suitcase and told her parents she was leaving Norfolk to find her fortune. Unable to reach the door handle, she decided to stay, set up an office under the stairs and start writing books. Gayle still lives in Norfolk with her husband and lots of cats. She is inspired by the beautiful countryside and coastline. Her previous novels are Too Close and I Choose You. She has also self-published two novels, Memory Scents and Shell House, and a humour book about her cat, entitled Wilfred, Fanny and Floyd.