The Lost

by Roberta Kray

  ‘Maidstone prison,’ he repeated.

  ‘I got a visiting order from someone today.’ She gave him a wide smile. ‘We reporters live rich and varied lives.’

  ‘Is this to do with Ellen Shaw?’

  Jess shook her head. ‘Not specifically. BJ – he’s the guy I’m going to visit – saw Len a couple of weeks ago. They talked about something and I just want to find out what it was.’

  ‘And he couldn’t tell you over the phone?’

  ‘He didn’t seem too keen on the idea.’

  Harry thought about it. He wasn’t too keen on this idea either. There was no reason, other than his inbuilt prejudices about women drivers in general, why he shouldn’t lend her the car – it would only be sitting out on the street – but he still had his reservations.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘I’ll take good care of it. I promise. And I’ll have it back by six at the latest.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ he said. ‘Look, I don’t mean to sound patronizing but have you really thought this through? Do you actually know anything about this guy?’

  Jess laughed. ‘Well, thanks for the concern but it’s only BJ. He might have spent his entire life getting into trouble but he’s harmless enough.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  ‘So what did you mean?’

  Harry’s brow furrowed while he tried to figure out a diplomatic way of saying it. ‘You don’t think that maybe, with the shock of Len’s death and everything, you might not be … the thing is …’ He paused, hearing himself start to stumble, and took a deep breath. ‘Only you are still grieving and sometimes—’

  ‘Oh please,’ she interrupted. ‘Save me the psycho-analysis. You think I’ve lost the plot, right? You think I’m seeing murder and mayhem, secrets and lies, a whole conspiracy where it doesn’t exist.’

  As it happened she wasn’t too far off the mark. Harry shook his head. ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.’

  ‘Look, I’ve a right to be concerned if—’

  ‘A right?’ she repeated, her voice incredulous.

  ‘Sorry,’ Harry said, quickly raising his hands. ‘Not a right, okay. That wasn’t the word I should have used. I’m just worried about you, about where all this could be leading. It’s not always easy to think straight when …’ He stopped abruptly, realizing he was only making things worse.

  But instead of getting angry, she suddenly threw back her head and laughed. ‘God, you really know how to put your foot in it, don’t you?’

  ‘It would appear so,’ he said.

  She leaned forward and sighed. ‘Well, I’m touched by your concern but believe me I’m not going into this with my eyes closed. And you could be right, I may well be chasing after imaginary ghosts, but it’s something that I have to do. You understand that, don’t you?’

  Harry could appreciate her need to find out the truth, was even impressed by it, but he also felt obliged to point out the downside. ‘But do you understand that Jimmy Keppell is not going to be happy if you start digging around and raking up the past? Don’t forget that it was his son who was murdered.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten,’ she said. ‘And I’m not a complete idiot. I’m going to tread carefully.’

  Harry wasn’t convinced that her idea of treading carefully was quite the same as his but he nodded anyway. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘You can borrow the car if you want.’

  Her face lit up. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘On one condition.’

  Jess stared at him, her bright smile gradually fading.

  Harry had a feeling that he might live to regret what he was about to say but still went ahead with it. ‘I want to come with you.’

  ‘For God’s sake, I’m only going to Maidstone nick. I don’t need a bodyguard.’

  ‘And I’m not offering to be one. In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m barely capable of walking.’

  ‘So why bother?’

  Harry shrugged. He was sure that the longer she spent alone the more she would come to believe her own wild suspicions and that was only going to lead her into trouble. Perhaps, if he stuck by her for a while, he might be able to introduce some reason into her thinking. ‘Why not? I’m going to be at a loose end tomorrow. And there’s not much else I can do looking like this; a black-eyed private investigator doesn’t inspire much confidence.’

  She frowned at him.

  ‘That’s the deal,’ he said. ‘Take it or leave it.’

  Jess hesitated for a moment before standing up and picking his car keys off the table. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘If that’s what you want, I’ll pick you up at twelve.’

  ‘Don’t be late,’ he said.

  Harry limped to the bathroom and stared at his face in the mirror. It wasn’t a pretty sight. His left eye, half closed, was swollen and bruised. A year ago this couldn’t have happened. A year ago he’d have been faster on his feet, quicker to react, and no upstart little shit like Troy could have taken him so completely by surprise. Swearing softly, he leaned his head against the coolness of the glass.

  Back in the living room, he poured himself a drink and thought about calling Val. He even went so far as to pick up the phone but after listening to the dial tone for a few seconds changed his mind and carefully replaced the receiver. The last thing he wanted was for her to come back because he’d been hurt again. There was a limit to the amount of sympathy any man could take.

  Raising the glass to his mouth, he knocked back its contents in one. What to do next? He didn’t have a clue. All he did know was that he wasn’t going to do it sober.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jess sat in the visiting room, impatiently tapping her fingers on the table while she waited for Big Jay Barrington. Harry was waiting outside in the car. He’d hardly spoken a word on the way down and she knew enough about hangovers to recognize a blinder when she saw one. Still, it was hardly surprising after what he’d been through yesterday. In the hope that she might be able to ignite some small spark of interest in the Grace Harper case, she had left all the files on the back seat, a heap of paperwork for him to peruse while she was otherwise engaged. Whether he could actually focus on it was another question altogether.

  BJ eventually strode through the door, a mountain of a man dressed in jeans and the regulation blue and white striped shirt. His dark brown eyes scanned the room twice, not even stopping as they swept over her, and she had to stand up to get his attention. Clearly she wasn’t quite as memorable as he was.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, walking over to greet her.

  Jess shook his hand, an action she instantly regretted as his mammoth paw inadvertently crushed her own much smaller fingers. ‘Hi,’ she murmured. ‘Good to see you again.’

  ‘No problem,’ he said, sinking down into the chair. ‘I still can’t believe it. Mr C gone like that. An accident, huh?’

  ‘A mugging,’ she said, not willing to reveal too much. ‘That’s what the cops think.’

  BJ slowly shook his head. ‘Shit, man, that’s grievous. The streets just ain’t safe to walk any more.’

  Jess suppressed a smile at the expression of outrage. That his own antisocial activities might have contributed in some way to this parlous state of affairs didn’t seem to have crossed his mind. ‘Let me get you a drink,’ she said. ‘Would you like anything else?’

  He asked for a Coke, some crisps and a Mars bar. Jess joined the queue at the counter and while she waited to be served wondered how best to proceed with the tricky subject of what BJ and Len had actually discussed. Was it better to admit that Len had told her nothing – she could be running the risk of BJ clamming up on her – or should she take the sneakier route of pretending to know more than she actually did?

  The queue shifted forward and she got her money ready. The one thing she didn’t want to think about began pushing its way into the forefront of her mind: not so long ago Len would have been standing here too, probably ordering the
very same items and … No, she mustn’t go there. That awful lump was crawling into her throat again. Instead, she tried to concentrate on what Len would do if he was in her shoes. Whatever it takes, she could almost hear him saying.

  Jess returned to the table, put down the tray and shot a smile at him. ‘Look, I never got the chance to talk indepth with Len before … So I’m a bit vague, you know, about some of the details.’

  ‘Okay,’ he said, tearing the wrapper off his Mars bar. ‘But he told you about Deacon, right?’

  ‘Oh sure,’ she lied, her heart beginning to thump.

  BJ bit into the chocolate and began chewing. ‘So what is it with that guy?’ he said, his mouth still full. ‘What’s the angle?’

  Jess tried to keep her voice casual. ‘Len was researching an article about … er … politicians and crime.’

  ‘Bloody long article, then,’ BJ said, grinning.

  She laughed. ‘You’re not wrong there.’

  ‘And he told you about our deal, right?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So what do you reckon?’

  Jess reckoned she had to be damn careful or she’d be exposed for the fraud she actually was. Were they talking money here? They had to be. What other kind of deal could Len have made with him? It wasn’t strictly ethical, paying convicted felons for information, but now was hardly the time to start developing scruples. ‘It’s no problem.’

  BJ seemed pleased, his mouth expanding into its wide gappy smile. ‘So I’ll be working with you?’

  ‘If you’re happy with that.’

  ‘And you’re experienced in this kind of thing, yeah?’ He paused. ‘I don’t want to sound funny or nothing, and no offence meant, but I don’t want to be working with a fuckin’ amateur.’

  ‘Strictly professional,’ she said. ‘I am a reporter.’

  ‘Yeah, but how many books you written, lady?’

  Jess stared at him, baffled. ‘What?’

  BJ folded his arms on the table, a wariness creeping across his face. ‘Thought you said you and Len had talked?’

  ‘We did,’ she said, her mind frantically racing while she tried to suss out exactly what was going on. She was lost. Where on earth had the subject of books come from?

  Fortunately, BJ didn’t have the sense to keep his mouth shut. ‘I ain’t telling my life story to just anyone,’ he said.

  Jess gave a sigh of relief. So that was it! Len must have promised him a book deal in return for his cooperation. Or had he? Somehow she sensed that even Len wouldn’t have been so rash as to actually promise anything. More likely it was a carrot he had dangled in front of an ambitious BJ’s nose.

  ‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘Who would? You’re right to be cautious and I respect you for that. It’s a matter of trust, isn’t it?’ She threw him one of her more generous smiles and then lied through her teeth. ‘But you don’t have to worry. I worked with Len on his last three books and I’ve been the ghost writer for a number of other bestselling biographies too.’ Off the top of her head she reeled off the names of several infamous villains, only one of whom she had ever met and that was at some tedious book launch where the drunken wretch had spilled a glass of red wine down the front of her shirt.

  BJ’s eyes widened. ‘No kidding,’ he said. ‘So what’s Davey Pullman really like?’

  Jess shook her head. ‘First rule of the trade, BJ – never discuss your subjects with other people. Confidentiality, from start to finish, is what it’s all about. Obviously you don’t spend months talking with a man without learning a secret or two but you have to know when to keep your lips firmly zipped. I mean, there are things I could tell you about Davey but … Well, you understand where I’m coming from, don’t you?’

  BJ looked impressed. ‘For sure,’ he said. ‘You can’t go talking behind no man’s back. That wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘It wouldn’t,’ she agreed. Jess sat back and sipped on her coffee. This was easier than taking sweets from a baby. BJ was proving so simple to manipulate that she felt almost guilty.

  He looked across the table. ‘So are we on? Is the deal still in place?’

  And then Jess took her gamble. ‘There’s only one thing,’ she said. ‘You and Len hadn’t exactly made a deal, had you?’

  BJ’s face fell and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. ‘But he was keen, man. He was. He was well up for it.’

  ‘Really?’ Jess said, frowning. ‘Only I got the impression that it was rather dependent on the information you might be able to provide.’

  ‘About Deacon?’ he said.

  Her heart skipped a beat. ‘So you do have something?’

  ‘I’m working on it.’

  Jess frowned at him. How often had she heard that before? Thinking of Len, she was tempted to lose her temper but had the sense to keep calm. ‘That’s not good enough.’

  ‘Give me a couple of days,’ he said.

  ‘I can’t wait around forever.’

  ‘You won’t need to.’

  It was shortly after three when Jess escaped from the blank magnolia walls of the visiting room. She pulled up the collar of her coat as she walked down the street to where Harry was waiting in the car. She got in and sat down beside him.

  ‘Good visit?’ he said, glancing up from his newspaper.

  ‘Delightful,’ she said. ‘It’s always a joy to spend time in one of Her Majesty’s Prisons.’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  Jess settled in and fastened her seatbelt. ‘So what have you been doing?’ Glancing over her shoulder she saw the files still sitting on the back seat. There wasn’t much sign of them having being disturbed. ‘Not working too hard, I hope.’

  ‘Just catching up on world events.’ He put the paper down as she pulled out from the kerb. ‘Doesn’t it bother you,’ he said, ‘going into jails?’

  ‘You say that as if I make a habit of it.’

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, frowning at the imposing grey stone wall that ran around the prison’s perimeter. ‘It’s just that these places make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.’

  ‘Probably your guilty conscience.’

  Harry grinned. ‘You could be right. So how did it go?’

  ‘Not bad,’ she said, ‘although I can’t actually work out if BJ’s got anything useful to offer or if he’s just stringing me along. He’s desperate to see his name in print. Apparently Len discussed a possible book deal with him in return for information.’

  ‘I didn’t realize BJ was such a big name in the criminal world.’

  ‘He isn’t. Still, you can’t blame a guy for trying.’ Jess gave a wry smile. ‘The only thing I did learn for certain was that this was where Len saw Ellen Shaw for the first time. He must have followed her back to Camden.’

  ‘Which you’d pretty well guessed already.’

  ‘I wonder if he recognized her straight away or—’

  ‘Thought he recognized her,’ Harry said. ‘There’s not a shred of evidence to suggest that Ellen Shaw is anyone other than who she claims to be.’

  ‘So what happened to Grace Harper then?’

  Harry gave another of his weary sighs. ‘Sadly, she probably met the same fate as Theresa Neal.’

  Jess glanced at him, surprised. So he had been looking through the files. Theresa, a ten-year-old, had disappeared a few days before Grace Harper. It had been another three years before her remains were found buried on Hampstead Heath. ‘You think the two cases are connected?’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Harry said. ‘They went missing around the same time. They lived within half a mile of each other. I’d say that was a pretty good connection.’

  ‘Okay,’ Jess said. ‘But it still doesn’t add up. Two murders so close together suggest the start of a killing spree, something frenzied and out of control. So why didn’t it go on? Why did it suddenly stop?’

  ‘There could be all sorts of reasons,’ Harry said. ‘Perhaps he realized he was under suspicion and took off. He might have gone abroad. Or pe
rhaps he was killed in an accident. He could even have topped himself.’

  Jess snorted.

  ‘And something else,’ Harry persisted, trying to provide the voice of reason. ‘If Ellen Shaw is Grace Harper then why should she bother to pretend otherwise? What’s she got to gain by it?’

  That was a question still weighing heavily on Jess’s mind. ‘How should I know? She was only eight when she disappeared. Anything could have happened.’

  ‘Then perhaps you could also consider the possibility that Ellen Shaw is exactly who she says she is.’

  ‘You’re only saying that because you fancy her.’

  Harry, caught unawares by the comment, turned his flushing face towards the window. ‘Now you really are clutching at straws.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ she said softly.

  They had just reached the motorway and Jess put her foot down, eager to get home. A long night’s work awaited her. She would take those files apart, page by page, until she found what she was searching for. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to make Harry Lind eat his words.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  They had just emerged from the Blackwall Tunnel when Harry’s phone started ringing. He felt a spark of hope – it could be Valerie – but as he lifted the mobile off the dashboard saw that the number was unrecognized. Should he bother answering? He was tempted to let it go to voicemail but then thought better of it.

  ‘Hello?’

  There was silence from the other end.

  ‘Hello?’ Harry repeated. Again there was nothing. Pulling a face, he gazed out at the car in front, a car Jess was getting dangerously close to. He was about to hang up and offer some heartfelt advice on the wisdom of keeping a sensible distance – his bumper didn’t need any further damage – when he heard the thin sound of breathing. ‘Who is this?’

  ‘Is Agnes,’ a small voice finally whispered.

  ‘Agnes?’ he repeated, surprised.

  A small strangled sob was the only response.

  Instantly the call had his full attention. ‘What’s wrong?’ he said. ‘Are you okay?’