He gazed at the array of light-pink roses and smiled. ‘Aren’t they beautiful?’ Claire looked at them half-heartedly.
‘I had these planted a few years back. I come here at least once a day, just to take in their beauty. It’s become my obsession, keeping this bit of garden just for me. It’s here that I clear my mind.’
Manuela turned to her and smiled, taking a seat on the bench and offering her a seat next to him.
‘I’m sorry if I seemed rude back there,’ he said as she sat beside him, wiping the seat before sitting. ‘I just find it hard to talk about.’ He leaned closer and smiled, baring his yellow teeth again.
Claire paused. ‘What can you tell me about Mark Jenkins and his family?’ She felt his body turn towards her and she looked at his face. He seemed genuinely surprised at her question.
‘What would you like to know? He’s one of our Patrons. He helps fund a lot of events to keep this place going. He’s well-liked and respected as is his wife.’ He looked back towards the house. ‘Though I can’t help but wonder why you ask.’
Claire had anticipated this. ‘He was the last person to see Father Wainwright alive.’
‘But he has an alibi. He’s a good person and so are his family.’
‘And what about his foster children?’
Manuela’s face dropped.
‘Did they attend here?’ she asked, not looking at him, keeping her gaze ahead. She felt him shift on the bench next to her.
‘Yes, although the church wasn’t for them. Emily, who is still with them, she still attends sometimes, but she’s older now so has less time on her hands.’
‘I’ve not met Emily, only Chloe.’ She saw Manuela stiffen. ‘She told me her fellow students would talk about bad things happening here.’ He looked at her, his face stern. ‘Although I suppose they’re just children’s stories.’
Manuela blinked. ‘I suppose she told you about the secret passage as well?’
He saw Claire’s eyes narrow.
‘The house has a secret passage left from the old dungeon of the previous Manor built in the 1500s. It used to be part of St Albans Abbey lands. This one was built after the old one was knocked down. The passage offered an escape route for anyone loyal to Rome, when Henry VIII made himself head of the church, ordering the dissolution of the monasteries.’
He looked at her and held her gaze. ‘Everything a child needs for a very convincing ghost story, wouldn’t you agree?’
He stood and offered her his hand.
‘I hope I’ve been of some help, Chief Inspector. It’s been nice to meet you, although I do hope for the last time.’ Claire hesitated before taking his hand. ‘I hope you understand?’
‘Don’t worry, Father. I think I’ve satisfied my curiosity for now.’ She went to leave but something stopped her. She turned to him. ‘There was just one other thing.’
She watched him stiffen, but he smiled at her regardless.
‘What was Rebecca’s state of mind during the weeks leading up to her disappearance?’
CHAPTER 29
2009
‘I’ve thought about how I can get him back,’ Amelia said, her voice just above a whisper. She watched Rebecca move in closer, eyes showing her eagerness. ‘I’ve been thinking about it a while actually, not just because of the scars he’s left me with… I’ve promised myself it’ll be the last time.’
‘Tell me?’ Rebecca said, looking around, checking the door was shut.
‘The Chapel. It’s like his baby. I’ve been thinking about how I could destroy it, like he’s destroyed me and my faith.’
Rebecca gasped, raising her hand to cover her mouth, but her eyes were alight with excitement.
‘That was my idea.’
Both girls looked across the room, staring at their friend as she lay back on the floor, eyes forever watching their every movement.
‘You said to damage the Chapel,’ Amelia said. ‘It was my idea to burn it.’
‘Still my idea.’ She frowned. ‘You’re just trying to impress her,’ she spat.
Rebecca shifted, uncomfortable. She’d seen her temper before and wasn’t keen to ignite it. She tried to smile, soften her voice. ‘Don’t be like that, Chloe.’
Chloe’s eyes shot towards her then.
Amelia saw it and stirred, as if she anticipated a fight. She’d fight not flee, as usual. ‘Envy is such a destroying emotion…’
‘Fuck’s that supposed to mean?’ Chloe said, sitting bolt upright.
‘Hey,’ Rebecca said, moving between them. ‘It doesn’t matter whose idea it was.’
‘It matters to me,’ Amelia said. She ran her hand over Rebecca’s thigh. She stopped just as her fingertips edged under the hem of her denim shorts. Rebecca looked uneasy as Amelia looked at Chloe, gave her a grin.
‘Stop it.’
‘You love it,’ Amelia said, laughter in her voice.
‘You’re a complete cunt sometimes,’ Chloe said, and pushed herself up from the floor.
Rebecca slowly removed Amelia’s hand from her thigh. She knew she had to ease the tension.
‘The Chapel,’ she said.
Both of the other girls looked towards her.
‘You wouldn’t dare, would you, Amelia? Burn it? He’d know it was you.’
Amelia smiled, pleased to have Rebecca’s attention back on her.
‘Not necessarily. It doesn’t have to be me who does it, Becks. I can give myself the perfect alibi, by being at home. She said she’d help.’ Her eyes flicked towards Chloe. ‘Didn’t you, bitch-tits?’
‘I said I’d help get the shit together, not start the bloody thing. You know I don’t like the flames.’
Amelia dismissed her with a wave of her hand. ‘Bitch, please…’
Chloe flipped her the middle finger.
Amelia laughed, enjoying watching Chloe rise to the bait. ‘We’ve been growing closer,’ Amelia said, eyes still on Chloe. ‘As much as she wants to resist it.’
Chloe looked away, slightly ashamed. ‘Fuck off.’
‘That’s not what you said the other night.’
Rebecca flushed red.
Amelia started to giggle. ‘Can you imagine his face, though, B?’ she said, pulling Rebecca’s hands into her own. Her eyes were alight with excitement.
Rebecca smiled as she thought about seeing Manuela’s face, horrified as he watched the fire raze his beloved Chapel to the ground. As she thought to herself she hit a flaw in the plan and she frowned.
‘But if it isn’t you or Chloe who does it, then how can you pull it off?’
‘And here it comes,’ Chloe said, disdain in her voice.
Amelia ignored her, smiled at Rebecca instead. ‘I’ve spoken to Stevie.’
‘You haven’t!’
Amelia raised her finger to her lips, urging her to keep quiet. ‘Keep your voice down!’ She listened for any noise coming from the landing. She was certain the Fathers were all downstairs still, but she couldn’t be too careful.
‘I’ve seen him, Becca,’ she said, satisfied they were safe to talk. ‘I climbed out my room the other night and met him in secret. I told him what happened and he wanted to help. He said we should go to the police at first but I talked him round.’
Rebecca thought hard. ‘Maybe we should just tell the police. They can help you.’
Amelia’s face turned red with rage and she reached out, slapping Rebecca hard across the face. ‘Don’t be so fucking stupid.’
Chloe smiled then.
Rebecca reached for her cheek and rubbed it, her eyes brimming with tears. Amelia looked deeply into her eyes and felt a twinge of guilt. ‘I’m sorry, Becks, but sometimes you say stupid things. It’s OK for you, they leave you alone.’
‘I don’t even get a second thought. Least you get attention,’ Chloe said.
Amelia scowled at her.
‘It’s me they hate. Me they want to ruin. I can’t do anything right, and even if I do they find a way to make what I’ve done seem bad.’
Rebecca wiped a tear from her cheek and nodded, reaching for Amelia’s hand, clasping it tightly.
‘I know… I just don’t think involving Stevie is right for you.’ She glanced at Chloe. ‘Or you.’
Amelia frowned at her words.
‘He’s bad news,’ Rebecca continued, ‘and you’re forbidden to have any contact with him.’
‘They only forbid me out of spite. Only Stevie truly understands me, Becks, you know that.’
Chloe’s body stiffened. Amelia’s words stung more than she could ever anticipate, but she’d be damned if she let any more if her guard down tonight.
‘He says the plan will work,’ Amelia said. ‘Get Father Manuela where it hurts, hurt him from my vantage being on the inside. I’ll still need you to help with a few details though. I know you won’t let me down, B.’
Amelia moved her hand from Rebecca’s and glared at the cross hanging from the wall in front of them. ‘I’ll make him pay for what he’s done.’
Rebecca gazed at Amelia and noticed her hair seemed more of a mess than usual, the red seeming to glow with the light coming from the small lamp beside them.
‘I have to ask this. Apart from telling him about this plan, what else happened with him?’ she asked, embarrassed by her own words.
Chloe turned to face them now. Tried to hide the hurt in her eyes.
Amelia smiled, her face flushing.
‘You don’t want the gory details, B, really.’
‘Yes I do. I want to know what it’s like.’ Rebecca listened to her own words and felt dirty. ‘Not that you should be doing it anyway. He’s too old for you for a start.’
‘I’m sixteen, Becks, I can do what I want. It’s legal.’
‘He’s still too old for you.’
Amelia laughed. She rolled over on her side and switched on the television. She thought about what Rebecca had said but dismissed it. She had her plan set up with Stevie and if Chloe kept her word, they would make the Fathers suffer over time. As long as she had them, she would be safe.
Three lost tormented souls.
Together, they could achieve anything.
CHAPTER 30
Father Manuela watched Claire leave, unaware that he was holding his breath. He exhaled once her car had retreated down the driveway, and he raised his hand to his chest.
His insides felt like they were on fire and he collapsed in a seat beside the window.
He looked down at his hands and watched them tremble. He tried to pick up his cut-glass decanter of whisky and pour himself a glass. He spilt some of it onto the desk in front of him and raised the decanter to his lips instead, and drank deeply.
He glanced at the scrapbook he’d shown Claire and frowned. He reached for the cordless telephone beside him and dialled, his fingers clumsy, stumbling over the keys. He heard a voice at the other end which was not familiar. Realising he’d dialled the wrong number, he hung up without saying a word.
He redialled.
He sighed when he heard David Hawthorne answer at the other end.
David listened to Manuela with care and shook his head. ‘I think you should think about what I said at the funeral.’
‘No!’ Manuela said. ‘I’m letting you know, in case you get a visit. If you do, just be cautious with your answers. Besides that, you will do as I say, David.’
‘It’s as if God wants her to be found.’
There was a silence at the other end.
Manuela glared at the picture of Rebecca in the scrapbook; her face had slightly yellowed over time, the newspaper wearing.
‘God will forgive us, David. Trust in that. God will know his own.’
CHAPTER 31
Claire sat at the desk in her office and surveyed her notes from the meeting with Manuela. She’d made some further enquiries regarding Ashe Miller’s murder and checked in with David Matthews about the Hargreaves case before studying her notes, but by this time she was tired and hungry. It was then that she realised she hadn’t eaten since very early that morning.
She stood and grabbed her bag, when Michael walked into her office, tapping on the door to get her attention. Her eyes narrowed when she saw him and looked down at her bag, pretending to rummage.
‘I came to apologise,’ he said, closing the door behind him, after she failed to invite him in. ‘I was out of line the other day and I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to upset you.’ Claire ignored him, and leaned down to her computer to lock it. Michael edged a little closer and stared at her. ‘Claire? Did you hear me?’
‘I heard you.’
He tried to make eye contact but she stared at the desk in front of her. ‘Are we good?’
Then she looked at him. He waited for her next sentence with bated breath.
‘If you think that by apologising now, after avoiding me for the last two days and after what was said is OK, then the answer is no, we’re not good.’
He frowned. ‘I think you’re going a little OTT there, Claire, don’t you?’
‘I think I’m being more than a little kind to you, considering I could have you suspended for your behaviour.’
Michael sighed and shook his head.
‘And by the way,’ she added, ‘I still might if you insist on challenging me and bringing up the past. I’m not going to put up with your attitude, Diego, am I making myself clear?’
‘Then why don’t you?’
She glared at him. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Why don’t you suspend me? It’s not the first time you’ve threatened it.’ He watched her face, realising he knew the answer. ‘Oh, I think I see.’ His lips pulled into a grin.
‘You don’t see anything, Diego. Don’t flatter yourself.’
Michael stood with his hands on his hips, staring at her. He was fighting a losing battle. He nodded at her reluctantly. ‘OK. You’re right.’
She grunted to confirm she was done speaking to him and picked up her bag, swinging it over her shoulder.
‘I’m off to a very late lunch.’
Michael seized his chance.
‘Actually,’ he said, standing in front of her, ‘I had meant to offer you lunch. On me, I mean.’ She looked at him with caution, trying to check if he was being sincere or not. ‘As a peace offering I guess you could say.’ She noticed his eyes had almost danced back to life again, teasing and testing her.
‘You can’t buy your way into my good books with food, Diego,’ she said, with half a smile.
‘Well, we’ll see…’
***
Prezzo’s was still very busy, even for late afternoon, when they were shown to a table. Claire ordered a white wine as soon as she sat down. Michael cocked an eyebrow at her.
‘Unlike you to drink on the job.’ She passed him a sideways look and shrugged. Michael ordered a soft drink instead, and waited until the waiter had gone before picking up his menu. ‘I’m starving,’ he said.
Claire already knew what she wanted, so ignored the menu and when her glass of wine arrived, she downed most of it in one go. Michael waited until the waiter had taken their order before looking at her, his eyes serious.
‘Is it PMT?’
Claire shot him a look.
‘It is, isn’t it?’ A grin pulled at his lips.
‘Piss off.’
He laughed. ‘OK, it must be serious then.’ He thought for a few seconds. ‘My second best guess is that the Miller investigation hasn’t turned up anything of use yet, Hargreaves is still on our streets and then there’s Wainwright.’
‘Yes, thank you for stating the obvious.’ She struck her fingernails on the table. ‘Besides, it’s not just that. I saw Father Manuela today.’
‘And?’
‘I don’t know. I just feel there’s something not right about him… Or any of them for that matter.’ She played with her wine glass, moving it around the table.
‘To be fair, you only went to see him for the sake of routine. You didn’t have, and still don’t have, any evidence about anythin
g.’
‘Other than Manuela having a heated argument with Hawthorne at Wainwright’s funeral, yes, Diego, I know that,’ she said, cutting him off. She sat back in her chair, frustrated. ‘As I’ve said before, call it a hunch.’
They sat in silence until their food arrived. Michael started on his pasta as soon as it was put in front of him, wolfing it down as if he hadn’t eaten in days. Claire watched him fleetingly before picking up her fork.
She took a few mouthfuls then set down her fork, and shoved the plate away from her.
Michael eyed her until she felt the weight of his stare. When she looked in his direction, she said, ‘I wasn’t as hungry as I thought.’ She sipped some of her wine.
‘Well, that’s bollocks.’ He wiped his mouth on a napkin and leaned forward, his arms resting on the table. ‘Come on then…a problem shared, and all that psycho-babble shit. I know I was out of line the other day, pressuring you to tell me, but it might make you feel better.’
Claire avoided his eyes. As if on cue, her BlackBerry vibrated across the table. When Michael leaned towards it to see the caller ID, she snatched it up from the table.
He sighed. ‘You’ve been getting these calls for weeks now.’
She shot him a defiant look. ‘What calls?’
‘These “private number” calls, the ones you never answer, the ones that turn you into an even more moody cow than usual.’
‘Don’t start this again. I’ve told you, it’s—’
‘None of my business, yeah, I heard you loud and clear before.’
‘So take the hint.’
‘What kind of a friend would I be if I did that?’
He smiled at her, when she looked at him.
‘You class yourself as my friend now?’
‘What would you call me?’
She found herself suppressing a grin. ‘Don’t tempt me…’ Her face turned serious then. ‘I’m fine, don’t worry about me.’ She paused a moment, then her eyes flicked back to his. ‘Did you mean what you said the other day?’
‘Which bit? I said quite a few choice words,’ he said, voice teasing.
She shoved his arm. ‘About things affecting my judgement?’
For All Our Sins: A gripping thriller with a killer twist (DCI Claire Winters, Book 1) Page 14
