Psychological Thriller Series: Adam Stanley Boxed Set: Behind Shadows, Positively Murder and Mind Bender

by Netta Newbound

  He ran back inside and straight up the stairs.

  He searched the bathroom and their bedroom, not expecting to find anything, but he needed to check. Brian was already convinced that Dennis had done something to Barbara, just like he’d done to Annie.

  ***

  As he stood at the gate waiting for the police, a feeling of dread enveloped him.

  What could Dennis have done to her?

  He wished he'd paid more attention to the news now. All he could remember was the reporter saying it was a 'gruesome scene'.

  "Oh, Barbara. My sweet, sweet Barbie, what has he done to you?" he said, wringing his hands in front of him.

  He didn't suppose it would take very long for the police to arrive. They'd seemed very interested at the mention of Dennis Kidd and Annie Duncan. They had told him to sit tight and wait for them.

  Within ten minutes, an unmarked police car pulled up outside the house.

  A short, blonde woman slowly uncurled herself from the driver's seat. She made it seem like very hard work indeed. Her grey trouser-suit looked at least two sizes too small. She pulled the jacket down over her black blouse. From behind, Brian could see where her bra strap and waistband squeezed her fat uncomfortably.

  She stood upright as a second police car pulled up just behind her. This one was marked and held two uniformed officers.

  "Mr Crosby?" The detective walked towards him, her hand outstretched. She had a very pronounced limp. "DI King."

  Brian nodded, unable to utter a word. He ignored her hand and shuffled into the house. The officers followed.

  He knew full well that he'd be in trouble now, but he couldn't live like this any longer. It was one thing having Dennis taunting and threatening him for years, but he couldn't allow him to hurt his family.

  As they reached the living room DI King cleared her throat.

  "Okay, Mr Crosby, maybe you should let us know the problem. PC Moore will make us all a nice cup of tea if that's all right?" She nodded at the younger officer, who had a ginger goatee that was more like bum fluff. He looked as though he should still be in school.

  Brian nodded. His teeth were chattering and his breath escaped in short gasps. He made his way to his armchair and collapsed into it. The detective settled into Barbara's chair and it brought tears to his eyes.

  "Okay, Mr Crosby. You said your wife was missing and you feel it has something to do with the dead woman."

  He nodded again.

  "Mr Crosby, we cannot begin to help you or your wife until you tell us what happened."

  "I know," he whispered. Taking a deep breath, he sat up straight in his chair and cleared his throat. He removed his wire-rimmed glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I had a letter from Dennis. He's been writing to me on and off since going to prison. But in the last few letters he threatened me. I never thought he would be capable of murder though."

  "I take it you mean Dennis Kidd? The convicted paedophile?"

  Brian nodded and replaced his glasses.

  "What did he have to threaten you about?" She squinted.

  "Nothing, really. I mean, not what you're thinking anyway."

  "And what am I thinking, Mr Crosby?" she said, eyebrows raised and a smug ‘whatever’ expression on her face.

  "You know—like you said, he's a paedophile."

  "So tell me, then, what was he threatening you for?"

  "I knew him years ago. Annie too. I never touched any of them kids though. You've got to believe me. I'm not a sicko." His voice sounded high-pitched and unfamiliar to his ears.

  "Okay, calm down, sir." She stood up and made her way over to the older uniformed officer and whispered something to him.

  The officer nodded and then left the room and the detective limped back to the chair.

  Brian wondered what she had done to her leg; she was obviously in a lot of pain.

  "Tell us what happened tonight. Maybe we need to try and locate the whereabouts of your wife first."

  PC Moore returned to the lounge with two cups of steaming hot tea and placed them on the coffee table between them. Brian reached for his and burnt his hands on the cup. He set it down again. Everyone was staring at him when he looked up.

  "Oh, erm …" He cleared his throat. "We were watching the news after dinner. That's when we found out about Annie." He rubbed the bridge of his nose—he had a migraine coming on.

  "You knew her well then, sir?"

  "I used to work with her at the school, years ago. I haven't seen her since, you know—since they were arrested. But I heard she was in a bad way with booze."

  "So, what happened after the news?"

  "I went out to the shed, to unwind. I left Barbara watching television. When I came back in she'd gone."

  "Maybe she just popped out somewhere."

  "No, you don't understand. She hasn't been at all well. She can barely walk. It takes her all her time to get upstairs to the bathroom with her emphysema. She would never go out without letting me know or needing my help."

  "What did you do in the shed?"

  "Eh?" Dennis screwed his face up. His eyes darted around the room.

  "I said, what did you do in the shed?"

  "Erm … I read my gardening magazines."

  The detective and PC Moore exchanged an odd glance.

  "What makes you think your wife's disappearance is connected to Annie?" she asked.

  "Dennis threatened me. He said I owed him and he would come to see me when he got out. I got another letter from him a couple of weeks ago. He said he would be around soon, but I never heard from him again. Now Annie's been murdered and my wife's missing." The last few words came out in a rush—all joined together. Brian buried his head in his hands.

  "Why didn't you tell the police you were being threatened?"

  "Because I thought he would just want a few quid and that would be the end of it. How was I supposed to know he meant violence?"

  "What did he have over you, Mr Crosby? You may as well tell me—I will find out."

  "Like I said, I used to know him. He said he would implicate me in some way, but it's a load of nonsense," Brian said as he slumped in his chair again. He stared down at his slippered feet.

  "Mr Crosby, I think it would be better if you accompany us to the station. We need to take a full statement in order for us to try to find your wife."

  As they were getting into the police car, the older uniformed officer called from the front door. "Ma'am …" He tipped his head towards the house.

  "Excuse me for a second, Mr Crosby."

  His heart was beating like a big bass drum in his throat. They couldn’t have found his box that quick, could they? They were only supposed to be securing the house.

  Brian watched as the blonde detective limped up the path. He held his breath until he felt light-headed and let the air out in a huge sigh.

  The detective listened to what the officer had to say. They both turned to look at him before they re-entered the house.

  He was done for and he knew it. Why else would they have looked at him that way? His eyes were glued to the front door, his heart raced and his right leg twitched uncontrollably.

  They came out. The officer remained by the front door and the detective limped back to the car and opened his door.

  "Mr Crosby. PC Moore has made a discovery," she said, her tone flat.

  Brian sat nodding his head, waiting for her to read him his rights. He couldn't meet her eyes.

  "It's your wife, sir. She's dead."

  Chapter 15

  Adam

  Once again, just as Adam's head hit the pillow, the phone rang.

  As he jumped up, an image of Amanda flashed through his mind. "Stanley," he barked into the phone.

  "It's Kate. Sorry to wake you, but I think you might want to come to the station."

  "Give me twenty minutes." He hung up and raced to the bathroom. His first instinct had been to ask if Amanda was okay, but he hadn't wanted to appear too familiar. He knew it had to be somethi
ng to do with the case though, or Kate wouldn't be ringing him. She was homicide and he missing persons, he wasn’t usually her go-to guy.

  He splashed his face and dressed in record time, his mind racing. He was annoyed with himself for not going back to Amanda's house to tell her about the prowler in her garden. But he hadn't wanted to freak her out any more than she was already.

  What if it had been Dennis and he had returned? Adam felt sick at the thought.

  He pulled up outside the station and glanced at his watch. It was just after midnight. God only knows what time he would get back to bed. He preferred the station at this time of the night—things were generally a lot quieter and less hectic.

  "Evening," he nodded at the desk sergeant as he walked through reception.

  "Hello again, sir. I thought you'd already left."

  "So did I, Stevens. Is Kate around?"

  "Yes, sir. She's in interview room two. Got a funny little man with her, she has."

  He let himself through to the back corridor. Peering in through the window of the interview room, he could see Kate and a barrel-shaped, balding, older man. He tapped on the window.

  Kate held one finger up to him before standing, leaning most of her weight on her good leg.

  He'd overheard a conversation in the staff canteen about what had happened to her. She'd been taken hostage six months ago and had forced her abductor to crash the vehicle he was driving into a brick wall. He'd died on the spot. She survived, but suffered a fractured hip and pelvis and her leg had been broken in several places. It had taken months to recover, and although she had little more than a limp on some days, other days she was barely able to walk at all.

  She stepped into the corridor.

  "Hi, Stanley. Thanks for coming in. I thought you might want to sit in on this interview. Brian Crosby. He called us tonight after his wife had vanished. He was adamant her disappearance had something to do with Dennis Kidd." She raised her eyebrows and waited for this news to sink in. "Apparently Dennis had been threatening him for the past few months and told him two weeks ago he would be contacting him."

  "What's he been threatening him with?"

  "That's what I thought you might want to find out. He used to work with Annie at the school—he was caretaker there. What I want to know is why a known paedophile would have something on him? And if it's nothing, why not report the threats to the police in the first place?"

  "And the wife?"

  "A very sick lady. She’d gone missing from their home tonight, or so he thought when he called us. He said Dennis must have been around to give her a going over like he'd done to Annie."

  "And you don't believe this by the sounds of things?"

  She shook her head. "No. Mainly due to the fact that one of our officers found Mrs Crosby upstairs in the spare bedroom—dead as a doorknob. Looks like natural causes, according to the coroner, but we'll need a post-mortem to be sure.

  Chapter 16

  Brian

  "Why am I still here? This is pointless. I've done nothing wrong!" Brian was dog-tired and distraught at the news of his beloved wife's death. He needed to go home.

  "We have a few more questions, Mr Crosby. This is Detective Stanley," DI King said, nodding in the direction of the hulk of a guy who came in behind her.

  "I don't get it—you've found Barbara. I made a mistake. She sometimes goes into the back room to get my attention when I’m outside. I didn't see her, that’s all." He ran his hand through his hair, shaking his head. "That’s the only window in the house that overlooks the shed. She doesn't like my shed. She hates—hated, spiders."

  "I understand, Brian. However, we still have Annie's murder to solve and no leads, so we need your cooperation." She sat back down in front of him and Detective Stanley pulled up a chair next to her.

  "I’ve told you everything I know, already." Brian felt claustrophobic. He reached for the glass in front of him, but his hand trembled so badly he spilled most of the water down the front of his rust coloured sweater.

  "I don't believe that, Brian. Please tell Detective Stanley what you told me earlier?"

  Brian sighed. "I … I thought Dennis had come to my house and harmed my wife, like he's done to Annie. But I made a mistake, and now I need to go home."

  "So—bear with me, Mr Crosby, but I'm finding this hard to understand. Your wife wasn't where you left her and straight away you think she's been murdered?" The male detective's deep Mancunian voice reverberated around the small room.

  "Yes," Brian whispered, aware of how stupid he sounded.

  "You didn't think to search the house before calling the police?"

  "No, sir. I mean yes, sir. She was in the house, my poor, poor Barbie. In the spare bedroom. We never use that room and although I did look in there, I didn't see her. She’d fallen at the far side of the bed underneath the window." His voice shook and tears threatened to spill over.

  "What made you suspect Dennis Kidd had something to do with her disappearance?"

  Brian wiped his eyes with his sleeve. "He used to write to me, ask me to send him certain things. I even went to see him once. I know what he did to those kiddies was wrong but he always seemed okay to me." His hands shook so much the glass was making a racket on the table.

  Kate King bent forward and took it from him. "Calm down, Brian. Take your time."

  "Where are the letters?" Hulk said.

  "I got rid of them. Barbara would have gone berserk if she'd known I'd been in touch with him."

  "Then why do it?" Kate asked.

  "I don't know. Because he wrote to me, I guess."

  "Did it not bother you that people would think you were involved? Did that not occur to you at all?" she said.

  The look of feigned bewilderment on DI King's face made him feel ridiculous. Brian sagged into his chair as though his bones had turned to jelly. "Of course it did, but what could I do? He was a dangerous man."

  "You said he was okay until a few weeks ago. And anyway, he was in prison, he couldn't have harmed you if he'd wanted to. No, Mr Crosby, there's more to this and unless you're honest with us, you'll be going nowhere fast." DI King leaned forward again, her lips tight as she glared at him.

  Brian tried to ignore the nagging voice in his head reminding him of the promises he'd made when he was praying for his wife to show up. He'd sworn to the heavens that he would confess all if she were found.

  But once she had been found he couldn't bear to tell the truth, couldn't face everyone knowing his secret. He had to get home though, he needed to contact his children and arrange Barbara's funeral. Also, he intended to dispose of the box once and for all. But to do that he knew he'd have to give the police something before they'd consider letting him go.

  "I found out about them, before everyone else did. I found out they were messing around with them kiddies," he blurted out. "Dennis warned me to keep my mouth shut—said he'd tell everyone I was involved. Everyone knows shit sticks whether it's true or not. I worked at the school with Annie. People love that sort of scandal."

  "So, let me get this straight. You’re saying you knew they molested young children yet you said nothing just to cover your own behind?" Hulk said, his top lip lifted, showing his teeth.

  "Yes, sir. And then they got caught. At first I thought they would blame me for blabbing and send the police after me. The first letter came and I shit myself, but he only asked for cigarettes."

  "So what changed?" Detective King said.

  "I don't know,” he shrugged. “I think because he was getting out and needed money and stuff. He thought I was a soft touch, 'cause I had been in the past, but I couldn't give him anything. I'm on a pension now. What would I tell Barbara? So, I ignored his demands. Then two weeks ago I received a hand-delivered note. He said he would collect what was owed to him—he threatened me. I wish I'd kept it now."

  "Is that everything, Mr Crosby, because if we find out you’re lying to us we'll come down on you like a sack of shit, you hear me?" The hulk’s boomi
ng voice shook Brian to the core.

  "Yes, I swear to you. When I saw the news tonight, I panicked. I realised he was capable of more than threats."

  "So you think he's responsible for the murder of Annie Duncan?"

  "I'd put my life on it, sir.

  Chapter 17

  Amanda

  I turned over and stretched. Tired of trying to sleep. Tired of tossing and turning. Tired of being bone tired.

  I'd got into Emma's bed in the end, creeped out that the police had been through my stuff. My bedroom looked like a crime scene. The drawers had been left wide open and the contents were in an untidy mess.

  I cringed at the thought of nosy Mrs Corless across the street. She would have seen everything and been in her element. I'm sure the stories would be rife among the neighbours by now.

  The way Michael had taken the children hurt like hell, but deep down I was relieved. At least this proved he was taking me seriously. I still felt sure that someone was watching me, and now, with Annie's murder, I didn't want my kids at risk.

  I got out of bed. Emma's window-seat overlooked the small back garden. As I sat down a slight movement caught my eye and my heart lurched. A cheeky fox snuffled through the undergrowth. I steadied my breathing and laughed. "Hello, Mister Fox, you almost gave me a heart attack," I whispered, my breath fogging up the glass.

  My mind was in turmoil. I'd been certain Dennis was responsible for Annie's murder but now I wasn't so sure. His prey had always been children—not adults. And although Annie had testified against him she'd been a willing partner and I was sure he’d never abused her. But then again, he was a stranger to me now, and prison had probably made him even more of a monster than he already was.

  Annie had been a schoolteacher when she met my dad. I didn't know if she’d already had perverted tendencies, but my guess is that she was so in love she'd have done anything to please him.

  The parties had started when we were very young. Dad and Annie would dress Andrew and me in skimpy outfits. We had to wait on the guests, fetching bottles from the fridge. Annie taught us how to pour them into a glass. Sometimes we were given money—not a lot, but Andrew and I would split whatever we were given between us at the end of the night. We had a wonderful time in those early days, being too young to realise what was actually going on.