‘Her number is in my phone. I don’t have it memorised.’
After a lot of consideration, they handed it over and watched him leaf through his own phone for Naomi’s number. But it wasn’t there. And neither was Joel’s. Gone completely. Deleted. Dan stood on shaky legs because now it was clear to him that somehow, some way, Vincent Solomon was involved. Had to be. There wasn’t any other conclusion to draw. Nausea clutched his gut.
4
‘Who’s Eric Preston?’ DCI Nick Dobson asked DC Juliet Knowles. ‘Name rings a distant bell. I found a note on my desk asking me to call him. Who left this note?’ He held it up.
‘I did. Thought you’d recognise my writing.’ She smiled. ‘You have ketchup on your chin.’
Nick rubbed his chin and straightened his tie and then a pen and pencil on his desk. ‘So who is he?’
‘Preston & Son?’ To which, Nick shrugged. ‘Scrap metal merchants. Eric Preston’s the owner.’
‘Who took the call?’
‘Came through to me. You remember Nathan Stone?’
‘Who doesn’t?’
‘OK. So after Stone’s vehicle was recovered from the crash scene, the collision investigation team did their work, filed their reports, yeah?’ He nodded. ‘And then the British Transport Police did their bit, filed their report?’
‘And?’
‘Add that to the statements from Naomi Hamilton who was there at the time of the accident and Kerry Marshall who snatched her from harm’s way, plus a couple of other witnesses on the scene and we pretty much had the complete picture of what happened, right?’
‘Right!’ he said, emphatically.
‘And then the car was taken from the forensic examination bay and dumped in the yard for about five days. From there it went to Preston & Son for scrap.’
‘If you say so.’
‘Well that was several months ago. Since then, the car’s been rusting, untouched. Until today.’
‘What happened today?’
‘Funeral day for Stone’s car. Eric Preston decided to strip the engine of any worthwhile parts before crushing it. He wants to talk to you about what he found.’
‘He found a mangled car I would have thought.’
‘Call him.’
Nick hesitated, glanced at his watch, then reached for the phone. Juliet left his office. Nick sat through three rings before, ‘Eric Preston.’
Nick could hear machinery plus a lot of background shouting. ‘Eric, good morning.’ He raised his voice. ‘DCI Nick Dobson here. Just returning your call. What can I do for you?’
‘Oh yes. Thanks for calling. Listen, we’re busy men, so I’ll come straight to the point.’
‘Go ahead.’
‘Got this navy Vauxhall here. Been cluttering the yard a few months, like, so I was all ready for scrapping it today. We strip them first, you know, for anything useful.’
‘Of course.’
‘Lifted the bonnet. Engine’s still in decent nick, but what got my attention was the brake fluid tank. Looks like blood on the screw cap, a fair bit of it. Dried on, you know. Could be a mechanic’s, someone who’s serviced the car. They get cuts, like anyone. I’m just checking that it’s all been investigated and recorded before I destroy the thing.’
‘Blood, you say? I don’t remember anything about that on the reports, but it is a while back.’
‘Looks like blood but I couldn’t say for sure. I put on some plastic gloves and managed to take the cap off and the reservoir’s as dry as a bone, but then I checked underneath the car and the pipe’s cracked so all the brake fluid would have leaked out of the system. I’m wondering now what’s on your reports. Was the conclusion that it was an accident?’
‘Yes it was – caused by dangerous driving.’ A pause where Eric didn’t reply. ‘What are you thinking Eric?’
‘Well, I’m thinking that if someone tampered with the braking system before the car got smashed up, then it was an accident waiting to happen. And in that case, accident would be the wrong word.’
Nick was stumped. There was a stack of paperwork filed away. A dead body, witnesses, an investigation. Conclusion: death by dangerous driving resulting from a collision with a train. Nick hadn’t studied every word of the reports, so he didn’t know what had been said about the brake tank, if anything. It had all seemed cut and dry at the time.
‘So you think the brakes might have been tampered with?’
‘I think that there’s blood on the cap, but I’m no detective. I don’t know what your reports say.’
A pause while Nick processed things quickly. ‘Listen, Eric, don’t pulverise that car until I give you the go-ahead. Is that doable?’
‘Course. Not a problem. Not saying it’s anything sinister, like, just thought I’d better mention it.’
‘You did right.’ Nick was getting that bristling feeling that he often got when there was something not quite right. He couldn’t interpret the feeling; it manifested itself as a creeping sensation across his skin. ‘I’m going to get the files out. Give them the once-over. Can I get back to you?’
***
It had felt like one of the longest nights Naomi could remember. A torturous journey, sitting alone beside an empty seat during two flights, dwelling endlessly on what should have been. The vacant seat should have been Dan’s. Dan should be her husband by now. They should have had two glorious weeks on honeymoon, and should be coming home to a new life in London, a life away from Manchester, from Vincent Solomon and from all the entanglements of the past.
They’d even secured a flat to rent in Shepherd’s Bush and had moved in enough furniture to be comfortable. It had been their secret and their dream. They’d almost made it. And then all plans had crashed and Naomi was plagued with one word, one question. Why?
Wondering was exhausting. The worst thing was not knowing where Dan was. The anxiety was unbearable. Beside her now, instead of Dan, her handbag was slumped on the adjacent seat while the belt snaked beside it either side. She’d spent blank hours staring at that orange belt, the belt that should have secured Dan. She could have sat with Annabel and Joel, but she’d wanted to be alone beside the empty seat, alone with her thoughts about what should have been. A dark journey altogether, with Annabel and Joel silent on the seats in front, having long since given up the quest of finding comforting words. Because there simply weren’t any.
It was seven-thirty in the morning when the plane touched down smoothly in Manchester. The day was slow to brighten. The clouds were heavy with moisture and a blinding November mist haunted the airport as the plane taxied in slow motion and then finally crept to a halt.
Annabel, pregnant, pale and tired, made it into Terminal 2 just in time to hurry to the nearest toilet to throw up.
Joel collected four cases from the conveyor belt – one of them Dan’s – while Naomi followed Annabel into the ladies’ toilets to check on her. She looked close to death and was desperate to get to bed.
Henry and Camilla were waiting in the arrivals hall, agitated and unsmiling. No one was expecting to find them there. If it was possible, Naomi’s mood sank as Henry solemnly wheeled the luggage trolley to the car and slung the suitcases in the boot. He wasn’t making eye contact with anyone.
When the five of them had squashed into the car, Camilla said, ‘I think you have some explaining to do, all of you, which you’ll do as soon as we get home.’
The ride home was joyless; the atmosphere, dense and awkward. Henry didn’t reach for the radio to relieve the silence. The miles and minutes dragged. Annabel looked ready to vomit at every moment.
Home at last, Camilla flung the car door open and planted one leg on the path in front of the house.
‘Family meeting in the lounge, now.’ She glared over her shoulder at Joel, who was between the girls on the back seat. ‘I suppose you’d better be included.’
‘Annabel needs to get to bed. She’s . . . unwell,’ Joel said.
Camilla was unmoved. ‘This won’t take lo
ng.’
She bounced out of the car and marched towards the house and everyone wearily followed.
The house was warm. Camilla’s expression was not. Everyone trooped into the lounge and sunk into the nearest chair or sofa. Camilla was standing by the window with her coat on as if she hadn’t decided whether or not to stay.
She took a couple of paces away from the window. ‘So, let’s keep this succinct shall we, then you can all get some rest. What is going on?’
Her eyes flicked from one person to another. No one offered anything. Naomi felt as sick as Annabel. She felt the colour slink from her face.
‘Joel?’ Camilla said, directing her stare right at him. ‘Any comments?’
Joel looked at Annabel and took her by the hand, but he was speechless and shook his head.
‘Annabel? Naomi?’ Camilla’s eyes were everywhere.
Naomi’s limbs had turned to mush.
‘OK, let’s make this more basic,’ Camilla said. ‘There’s obviously a whole host of things going on that I’ve been unaware of. Why did we not know that Daniel Stone was going on this holiday of yours? His name hasn’t been mentioned to me in months and yet I got a frantic phone call from his mother last night.’
Naomi opened her mouth, but the words were slow to come. It was an effort to say, ‘Mum, look, this is not Annabel or Joel’s fault, OK?’
‘No, it’s not OK,’ she yelled suddenly. ‘Tell me what’s going on, and don’t you dare lie to me.’
Naomi locked her fingers together and drew breath. ‘Well, I’ve been seeing Dan for months now and we . . .’ It felt incredibly difficult to say the words. Naomi swallowed. Annabel was pale-faced on the sofa.
‘Well?’ Camilla snapped.
‘We went out there to get married and Joel and Annabel were going to be witnesses.’
Camilla froze with the shock. ‘Married?’ tumbled out of her mouth. Her tone was strangled. Everything hung still as if time itself was suspended. Naomi wrung her hands together. ‘How can you sit there after what happened with that brother of his and calmly tell me that you intended to marry that man when you barely know him? Are you completely out of your mind?’
‘We were going to get married, too,’ Annabel said, taking the heat off Naomi.
Camilla’s neck twisted and, open-mouthed, she looked at Annabel and Joel without speaking.
It was Henry who said, viciously, ‘This is outrageous. It's absolute madness.’ He stood up and addressed Joel. ‘What the hell is your agenda with my daughter?’
Naomi looked at Annabel. Both girls were stunned. Henry was shaking with fury. His face had contorted itself into some shape Naomi had never seen.
‘Dad, calm down,’ Annabel said, throwing a protective arm around Joel. ‘We were going to tell you when we got home, but we wanted to get married out there, the four of us. We wanted to do it our way. We have the right to.’
Henry wasn’t listening. He was glaring at Joel. ‘I want you to leave this house right now,’ he said. ‘If you think anything of Annabel –’
‘Dad, no,’ Annabel said. ‘Why are you taking it out on Joel? It isn’t his fault. Look,’ she paused. All eyes were on her now. ‘I’m pregnant, right?’
Naomi dropped her head and looked at her feet, so she had no view of her parents’ reaction. When she looked up, Annabel and Joel were clinging to each other and Henry looked ready to collapse.
Eventually, Camilla said, ‘How could you have been so irresponsible? You’re not planning on having this baby, surely?’
Annabel sat up straighter. ‘Of course we are. We love each other.’
‘You’re a child, Annabel. You haven’t even begun a career. You’ve no idea what responsibility is.’
‘Well, I suppose I’m about to find out. I’m twenty-one. Joel’s nearly twenty-six. We’re old enough to decide what we want to do with our lives and we don’t need permission from anyone. I’m sick of being treated like the stupid one.’
‘Then stop acting that way.’ Camilla put her hands on her hips. ‘So we’re just meant to stand by, are we, and watch you ruin your life?’
Annabel eyed Camilla defiantly. ‘I don’t have to sit here being ripped into when I already feel like crap. I actually thought that you might both be pleased.’ Her voice began to tremble. ‘How wrong was I?’
‘Pleased?’ Camilla echoed, confused.
Annabel rose to her feet and dragged Joel with her. ‘We’re going for a lie down. Together. And then I’m packing my stuff and moving in with Joel. When you’re ready to talk to me like an adult and an equal, I’ll be in Newcastle.’
The pair of them trooped through the door and clattered up the stairs. Henry dropped into the nearest chair and covered his eyes with one hand. An awful silence possessed the room, robbing it of air.
‘And here was me thinking that things couldn’t get any worse,’ Camilla said eventually, pacing the floor, a faraway look in her eyes.
‘She isn’t going to Newcastle,’ Henry said in a sudden explosion. ‘She needs to be here with us. Especially now.’
‘Let her make her own way if she wants to,’ Camilla yelled, loud enough for Annabel to hear. ‘She’s got herself into this mess. Let her find out the hard way what being an adult is all about.’
But Henry couldn’t sit still. He stood up and paced a few agitated steps in different directions before heading for the door.
‘I need a word with that lad.’
‘Henry, leave it,’ Camilla barked.
Henry neither looked around, nor left it. ‘No, Camilla. This can’t wait.’
And with that, like a bull, he charged at the door, and thundered up the stairs.
***
In the time it took for Henry to reach the top of the stairs and work out that Joel was in the bathroom brushing his teeth with an electric toothbrush, Annabel had collapsed into bed and closed her eyes. Henry peered around her door and found her tucked up in bed, eyes sealed, breathing steadily. She must have been fully clothed.
Henry backed out and closed the door and stood, hands in pockets, waiting. The bathroom door was ajar. The toothbrush ceased to hum. A phone started to ring, and at first, Henry thought that it was Annabel’s. Then the water stopped running in the bathroom and Henry waited, his pulse firing aggressively. The phone stopped ringing and Joel spoke in a hushed tone.
‘What do you want?’
A brief pause. ‘Now’s not convenient.’
Another few seconds passed. ‘I’m knackered, OK?’
Joel sighed twice. ‘When?’
A short wait. Henry’s fists were clenched inside his pockets. ‘Whatever.’
Then Joel emerged suddenly from the bathroom and Henry stood, blocking his way. Joel looked startled. His hair was wild. Whenever he ran his hands through it, it would stay in whichever direction it was pushed. The sight of him made Henry’s blood curdle, and had done ever since that unforgettable evening when he’d met with Vincent Solomon and his sister, Charlie, and had discovered who this despicable person with the unruly hair, really was. Henry had buried his feelings until now. They’d both played a bizarre kind of game where they’d pretended that all was well. Not anymore. For Henry, it was gloves off.
‘Henry,’ Joel smiled. ‘I didn't know you were waiting.’
‘Obviously.’
‘Did you want to use the bathroom?’
‘No.’
Joel cleared an uncertain smile away. ‘Look, Henry, I know this is a shock, but –’
‘Just stop,’ Henry hissed. ‘A shock?’ He inched closer. ‘Do you want to know what shock feels like? It’s having the police knock on your door late at night to tell you that your daughter, who’s supposed to be thousands of miles away, is missing, presumed dead. Not just missing, but missing at sea, when she can barely swim.’ His lips trembled. ‘That’s shock. And then it’s having that same daughter arrive home in the early hours of the morning a week later, with the news that her husband attempted to have her killed.’
‘Henry –’
‘No, you listen to me.’ He hushed his tone to a whisper. ‘My family is being blown apart by your family. I know who you are and I’m not going to be silent anymore. This has gone far enough.’
‘I'm nothing like Vincent,’ Joel said.
‘You’re Jimmy Solomon’s blood and your family is blackmailing my family and I’m carrying this vile burden alone, just like your brother intended me to. He has a rope around my neck and you’re with my daughter under false pretences, under my roof! I don’t know how much longer I’m prepared to be quiet about that, you understand? You end it with Annabel, or I’ll tell her who you are.’
‘You wouldn’t dare.’
‘Try me.’
‘Careful, Henry.’
‘Don’t you threaten me.’
‘You’re out of your depth. Way out. This is a fair warning. If you try to seize the initiative and push your own agenda, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.’
Henry opened his mouth to speak but found he had no response. His eyes blazed defiance at Joel, but he was defeated. They both knew it. Joel waited a moment before brushing past Henry and opening Annabel’s door. He slithered silently inside and closed the door behind him.
***
Camilla was staring uncomfortably at Naomi. Naomi’s head was bowed, but she could feel Camilla’s hot glare searing the top of her head.
‘Well?’ Camilla said.
Naomi touched her cross against her neck, grasped it between her forefinger and thumb and zipped it slowly from side to side. She thought not of God, but of Dan. The necklace was her commitment to him now, the token of their engagement that never became a marriage. She’d never forget the footprints in the sand as they led him away, those two unsmiling men in dark uniforms. Before she could begin her vows, they’d torn Dan from her arms and failed to properly explain why they were doing it. Something about assault and questioning.
So there she’d stood on a windy beach on a tiny dot of an island in the Indian Ocean, thousands of miles from home, watching Dan being led away in his wedding suit. Naomi had thrown her flowers down, followed the men leading Dan away, running to catch up. They’d ignored her while she yelled at them to stop, to explain why they were ruining her wedding and snatching Dan. They hadn’t explained. Just needed to ask some questions was all she’d got. She’d followed them for minutes, right up to a wooden jetty at the end of which was a seaplane, but they hadn’t allowed her on board. She’d watched helplessly as the plane skimmed the water and took flight. In a state of outright disbelief, she’d watched it shrink in the sky.
Shadows to Ashes Page 3
