Ruby could not equate domestic violence with a happy marriage, no matter how much Frances tried to justify it. ‘But we’re not just talking about arguments, are we? I remember the day my mum took you and the boys in after Jimmy… Mr Crosby broke your nose and cracked your ribs. Nathan and Lenny were white with terror, too scared to move. How can that be love? And I’m not being nasty or judgemental, I’m just trying to understand.’
Frances sighed. ‘Even if I had wanted to leave, there were no refuges back then, not like today. And my family wouldn’t take me in. Jimmy had a reputation. People were scared of him, and there was no way anyone would’ve had me.’
‘But Nathan… ’ Ruby said, biting back her words, reluctant to cross the line.
Frances nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Jimmy had a hard upbringing. He wanted the boys to be tough so nobody took advantage of them when they were older. I think he did a good job of that.’
Ruby nodded. She wanted to ask if she truly knew just how much Nathan and Lenny hated their father for the cruelty he inflicted upon them, and how she lived with herself, knowing she had failed to protect the children who viewed violence as a normal way of life. But instead Ruby just smiled and made her excuses to leave.
Frances walked her to the door, her voice echoing in the vast hall. ‘You know, I’m sorry things turned out this way, Ruby. I think you and Nathan could’ve made each other happy. But I think it’s time for you both to move on, you know? He’s been dating a lovely young woman; Leona, her name is. She’s very keen. But the minute she gets serious he runs a mile. He’s still young. He can have children and get married and do all the normal things. And so can you. I don’t think it’s fair that you’re both putting your lives on hold for something that’s never going to happen.’
‘Nathan’s a free agent. We’ve been over for a very long time,’ Ruby said, feeling a dig of pain in her chest.
‘Time you made that clear then,’ Frances said, imparting a gentle smile.
But Ruby did not miss the coldness behind her eyes. If only she had been that protective when they were young, she thought, waving goodbye as Frances closed the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Ruby’s fingers hovered over the email software on her phone. As confident as Lenny had appeared there was always a chance that he would come up blank. Luddy was yet to come up with something concrete, so she could not waste a second. She had to get in contact with her mystery email sender. Helen had not reported any further communications, but equipped with an email address it was too good an opportunity to miss. The plan was to attempt some direct communication just to test them out and see if it really was a hoax.
She typed in the address and in the subject box typed ‘RUBY PRESTON’ in capital letters.
‘Dear Lucy,
If you were trying to get my attention, you have succeeded. Although what you claim is untrue, I would be happy to discuss the matter with you further. I suggest we meet. I am guessing that you do not live far away.
Ruby Preston’
Ruby stared at the words on her phone. At least for now she would send it from her personal account. She did so in the hope that the original sender would believe they had some kind of secret communication going on. She pressed send before she changed her mind. Normally she would shrug off such communications, but three letters had played heavily on her mind.
‘RIP.’
Written in brackets beside her name, Ruby knew this was no death threat. It was her middle name. Ruby Imogen Preston. A secret she had kept close to her chest. The only places it was recorded were on her birth certificate and that of her daughter’s, Lucy Preston. It was a possibility that Lucy’s name had been changed too. Her daughter could be anyone, but the meaning was clear. The use of ‘RIP’ was sending a message that only she and Lucy would understand. Ruby prayed she was wrong, but all the same she had to warn Downes. But the investigation was going at the pace of a steam train, and it was difficult to get him alone even for five minutes without interruption. Meeting for a drink after work was a definite no-no. For all she knew she was being watched. She certainly felt as if eyes were following her home. Could it really be her daughter trying to get in touch? And if so, was she responsible for the murders of Harry, Emily, and Charlotte?
As if on cue, Downes knocked on her door, making her jump in her chair.
‘Briefing in ten. Are you alright?’ he said.
Ruby signalled to him to close the door behind him. A fatal stabbing had come in overnight, a young man named Andy Hughes. He had been waiting for the bus when a gang of youths approached: picking a fight for no reason other than the fact he was there. He did not stand a chance.
‘There’s something I have to tell you,’ Ruby said, pulling out the well-worn paper and laying it flat on her desk. He leaned over her shoulder, and she was pleased to find the absence of alcohol on his breath. She knew he had been trying, and it was probably why he had been looking so rough. The crumpled suit, his unshaven face; he was detoxing, and there was never a good time for that in the police.
‘What the hell?’ Downes said as he read and reread the email. ‘Where did you get that?’
‘From Helen. She’s a journalist, but don’t worry, I’ve sorted it, and it’s not as if she can print it anyway.’
He frowned. ‘Do you think it’s the same person who sent the letters to Emily?’
‘There are similarities.’ Ruby pointed out the punctuation marks – the full stop that preceded the first line – ‘But that could just be bad grammar.’ She brought up the email she had just sent on her phone. ‘I’ve emailed them. They’re probably crapping themselves because I’ve responded. I don’t suppose I’ll hear anything back.’
‘But the mention of “RIP”. You realise I have to report this,’ Downes said.
Ruby shook her head. ‘Not yet, let’s wait and see what she comes back with first. The punctuation could be just a coincidence, and the name Lucy is no secret. Helen knew about it long before the press release. You know what it’s like around here: nothing stays hidden for very long.’ Ruby knew that sharing her middle name would implicate her daughter. It was information she would keep to herself for now.
‘Not as far as the press is concerned,’ Jack murmured. ‘What if there’s more? It’s not going to look very good: you and me together, along with the allegations that you’re seeing a Crosby.’
‘It’s all lies,’ Ruby said. ‘I haven’t been with Nathan in over a year, and even then it wasn’t what you’d call dating. We were just… ’
‘Fuck buddies,’ Jack muttered. ‘It doesn’t make it any better.’ He paced from the window to the door. It took only two of his strides before he had to turn around. ‘We’re going to have to be discreet,’ he paused, and seemed to consider his words. ‘Unless you want things out in the open.’
‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’ Ruby said, the very thought of her colleagues knowing about their fling making a bolt of anxiety rise inside her.
This information had the potential to explode in her face. What had started off as a one-off domestic murder was now snowballing into something beyond their capabilities. But Ruby did not want to let it go. If this was her daughter she needed to know what was going on. She had lied to Lenny: if her adopted child was responsible for the murders she would have no choice but to turn her in.
Yet a small part of her refused to believe that the innocent child that she and Nathan had produced could commit such horrific acts. The plan was to find her, and then hopefully rule her out. But now she owed Lenny a favour, and soon she would be treading a very thin line. Her relationship with Frances was tenuous, but as long as her mother was still alive she would come to no harm. Frances was one of the few people Joy still recognised, and the women’s friendship had survived many changes. Both families were intertwined in a complicated relationship not easily unbound. But now Lenny resented Ruby’s influence over his brother as she tried to persuade him to go straight. Meddling in the Crosby family bus
iness was not a good idea. At least for now, their mother’s closeness offered Ruby a degree of protection.
She refreshed her phone, waiting for a response. A notification pinged.
One new email.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Lucy pushed her head through the open bedroom window and inhaled deeply. Wavy heat lines rose from the road below, bringing with them the whiff of melting tar. She wiped the sweat from her brow, feeling like an ant burning under a magnifying glass. Any second now, she may just combust into flames. Maybe it would be better if she did. It had been hard to shift her mindset away from what she was brought up to believe: that she was a worthless waste of space, only good for the benefits her foster parents earned from keeping a roof over her head. A voice crept into her memory. C’mon, doesn’t matter if we do it, because we’re not really related after all. It was the voice of her foster brother the day before Lucy was sent back to the home. Each time she was returned to care because of her disruptive influence on the family household. Nobody believed her side of the story. At the age of thirteen she was on the scrapheap of life, with one failed adoption and numerous foster parents. Nice people didn’t want a troublesome child like her, and nobody stuck around long enough to ask her why she behaved the way she did.
How nice it must have been for them to carry on their lives without her. For years she endured the pain of watching other children get chosen for permanent homes. There had been one moment of hope. Mr and Mrs Mills, her third set of foster parents, had almost won her around, gifting her with the music box so alike the one from the movie she watched on a loop every day. Foolishly, Lucy had allowed herself to dream of them making a permanent commitment. But like a dog in the pound, she was destined for return. If she were an animal, she would have been put down.
But that was OK because now things would be different. She thought of Monica, with her beautiful features and manicured nails. She liked to sit on the basement step watching her as she slept. She’s not asleep, she’s concussed. The small voice spoke from the corner of her mind. Lucy’s jaw tightened. She was done with listening to reason. Monica was sleeping and everything would be just fine. Besides, she didn’t want to spoil things by waking her up. Having Monica look at her with fear in her eyes would only serve to dampen the warm spark of hope inside. You’re stupid if you think you can get away with it. Why would she want someone like you? ‘Shut up,’ she growled.
The stiff timber frame rattled as she banged her head against it in a rush to get inside. She needed to sit at her dressing table to quieten her inner voice. She rubbed the back of her scalp, taking her place before the mirror. The row of wigs, the false eyelashes, and the coloured contact lenses: all props to make her forget who she was. Only then could she start again. She eased the brunette wig from the styrofoam head and dipped her chin as she set it in place. Soon she would be Monica’s daughter for real. Her make-up may not be as eloquently applied, but her mother would love her just the same. Then later, when Mummy was feeling better, they would play her little game, and it would be Christmas all over again. Lucy checked her reflection against the photos sellotaped to the mirror before her. She liked the one of Monica sleeping the best. Lucy had made use of her special camera which could silently capture any image in the dimmest of light. Her eyes trailed over Monica’s satin nightdress as she peacefully slept in her king-sized bed: even in sleep she looked beautiful – just like a movie star. Lucy applied a coat of pink lipstick. Rolling it over her mouth, it stained the edges, making it appear bigger than it was. She smacked her lips together, too lost in thought to notice the stains on her teeth. She would show them. With the help of her new mother she would turn things around.
After ten minutes she was almost ready. Her sweat-laced skin had absorbed the foundation pancaking her face, and she dabbed her face with the powder puff to mask the streaks. There. Perfect. Now she was ready to wake Monica up. Lucy felt a flutter in her belly as a sense of cautious hope returned. Emily was just a test run. This time it would be just right. And nobody would get in her way.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ruby shoved the phone into her pocket. The last thing she wanted was Downes seeing the response before she’d had a chance to check what it said. It was not until she got into the toilet cubicle that she had the opportunity to read it. The stink of newly applied bleach made her wrinkle her nose, but she pulled down the toilet lid and sat to read the email.
‘Ruby.
Where were you last night? I waited, but you never came home. You say you want to see me, but we both know that’s not true. Otherwise you would never have given me up in the first place. How did you feel when I was born at three a.m.? Some say it’s the witching hour. Is that why you gave me up? Was I evil? Well I have news. I don’t want you any more than you wanted me.
See you around.
Lucy’
Ruby’s heart sank because now she was left in no doubt. Lucy Joy Preston had been born at three a.m., and such information was imprinted on the original birth certificate, which Lucy, as an adoptee, could only have obtained when she turned eighteen. The anniversary Ruby and Nathan shared was their daughter’s birthday. But she had passed her eighteenth birthday a couple of years ago – why was she coming after her now? Ruby swallowed, her mouth arid. She scanned the words a second time, trying to comprehend their meaning. ‘I waited, but you never came home.’ Had she been in her flat? And did that mean her daughter was the killer? Her mind bombarded by questions, she tried to plan her next move. But what was she supposed to do? Admit that, not only had she been sleeping with her DI, she had been involved with a member of the notorious Crosby family too? Then there was the revelation that she had given up their daughter for adoption when she was a teen. It was something she had omitted to declare when she joined the police. Had they known of her background, she would not have got a look in.
She knew she should think about what she was going to say. The email should be referred to a police negotiator, someone who would compose a reply where every word counted. But her fingers moved swiftly as instinct took over, reassuring the sender of the email and asking if they could meet up to talk. She had barely pressed ‘send’ when an error notification was returned as not recognised. It meant Lucy had instantly deleted the address. Ruby swore under her breath. That was what she meant by ‘see you around’. She was toying with her, instigating revenge for a perceived betrayal years ago. Switching her phone to silent, Ruby shoved it into her pocket. It was time for briefing. She needed to absorb the investigation to date.
* * *
She was grateful to see the mug of strong tea awaiting her in her customary position near the head of the conference table. She nodded a thanks to Luddy, her mind still racing with recent events. Leaning over, she whispered in his ear. ‘Any joy with that email address yet?’
People were still coming in, and she was satisfied they could not be heard. But Luddy looked furtive as he leaned in to reply. Ruby made a mental note not to put him up for any covert work.
‘I’m trying to locate the IP address, but with all the other enquiries… ’
‘Do us a favour and make it a priority, will you?’ Ruby said, forcing a reassuring smile.
She knew what her colleagues would think of her when the news came out. Downes would be deemed a stud, bedding a woman ten years his junior, but she would be viewed as some kind of trollop, sleeping with her DI to further her career. If only people knew. It had always been just her and Nathan. Even during the long gaps in their relationship, which could fall into months or even years, her dates with other men had never progressed past a heated kiss goodnight. It was only in the last year that she had begun to feel lonely, and after Jack’s wife died they fell into each other’s arms. He was safe, her rock, and she trusted him with her life. But the email made it all sound so sordid, and she could not bear for her colleagues to look at her in that way.
‘Sorry,’ Eve whispered, sliding in late under the watchful eye of DCI Worrow. Worrow was t
he Senior Investigating Officer for the case, and under pressure to produce results. As always, she was immaculately turned out, no make-up, but perfectly bobbed hair and a tailored grey skirt suit. Ruby’s wardrobe consisted of several pairs of figure-hugging black fitted trousers and a few designer tops and shirts which she alternated on a daily basis. From the age of eight she had hated skirts and dresses with a passion.
‘Right, let’s get briefing underway,’ Worrow said. ‘Welcome to Operation Javelin to anyone who hasn’t attended previously.’ She pointed to the wall behind her, to the pictures of Harry Edmonds and his wife Emily. Underneath, Charlotte Lockwood’s image stared back – her lips pursed as if she was about to say something – in a moment that was frozen in time. ‘These are respected members of the community, and we’re under a lot of pressure to get a quick result. Unfortunately, funding and manpower have been in short supply.’ She glanced around the room, taking in their faces. ‘So I’d like to begin by thanking you for your hard work and dedication. I know some of you in particular haven’t been seeing a lot of your families.’ Worrow paused, her glance landing on Eve. ‘However, that’s the nature of our job. Anyone that doesn’t like it should put their name down in Sainsbury’s, or B&Q. Now, on to the task in hand.’
Ruby contained her displeasure, turning it over like a bitter sweet in her mouth. Worrow was a terrible leader. It was just like her to say something positive then take it back, all in the same breath. Her phone itched in her blazer pocket with the need to check her emails again. She was sitting next to DI Downes, and blushed as he spread his long legs, his thigh touching hers.
Flicking through her paperwork, she joined in with delivering updates on the case. Intelligence was swapped; the recent appeal had brought forward some leads, a car hire company being one of them, who reported a woman behaving oddly as she rented a hire vehicle the day before Emily’s disappearance. Enquiries had been made to trace the vehicle, but given the car had been rented several times since that forensics could be of limited value. All the same, Luddy had seized it, and CSI were checking over it for signs of blood, hair, fibres, anything which could provide valuable leads.
Love You to Death: An Absolutely Gripping Thriller with a Killer Twist Page 11
