As she slipped on the white over suit, Lillian’s words still rang in her ears, compounding her hunch. The Keepers of Truth may have been involved on her behalf, but it wasn’t Lillian guiding them. As for Damien – surely if he had kidnapped Hemmy then his mother would have been more in the know? ‘She’s still there, safe and sound,’ Lillian had said. But from what crime scene officers had gathered, Hermione was long gone.
Rusted and rotting, the fishing vessel was moored to the dock by long thick ropes. Malcolm’s eccentricities had brought them here. As he gave her an update, Amy stood on solid ground, waiting to go in.
‘The good news is, we’ve found blood at the scene, but not enough to make us believe our victim has been stabbed or seriously injured.’
‘And the bad news?’ Amy said. When it came to crime scenes such as this, there was always bad news.
‘We’ve found enough gas to knock out a horse.’
‘Gas?’ That, she had not been expecting. Her forensic suit rustled as she folded her arms.
‘Yes, darling,’ Malcolm replied, his brown wavy hair ruffled by the wind. There was no need for titles with Malcolm, when ‘darling’ and ‘lovie’ would do. ‘It’s some kind of sedative,’ he continued. ‘We’re sending it off to the lab for testing, as well as the blood samples of course. Looks like they left in a hurry.’
‘They must have known we were on to them.’
‘Or they were worried about the cat being traced back.’
Amy nodded. ‘Any evidence of Purdy actually being here?’
‘The cage is still on the boat.’
‘Wow. Sloppy,’ Amy replied. She had been right: this was the work of an amateur. The fact there was so much evidence at the scene gave her a fragment of hope. DNA would be in abundance. But were they too late? Stepping forward on the dock, she stared into the murky waters and felt her spirits dampen. Was Hermione lying beneath the surface? Had her kidnapper finished her off and run?
‘Let’s try to remain hopeful,’ Malcolm said, reading her expression. ‘If they’ve murdered her then it’s unlikely they would have left so much evidence at the scene.’
‘You’re presuming they used rational thought,’ Amy said wryly. ‘It’s quite rare in this line of work. OK to go aboard?’ She did not need to ask permission, but their working relationship was based on mutual respect. She wished the same could be said for her DCI, whose words still stung. As long as you agree with me indeed, Amy thought, snapping on her gloves. We’ll see about that.
It took several seconds for Amy to acclimatise herself to the gentle rocking of the boat. From the moment she stepped on board, she put herself in the kidnapper’s shoes. Why had they brought her here of all places? And why bring the cat? She stared at the animal cage, its bars matted with white fur. In the corner, a rotting fish head sat next to an empty water bowl. Another wave bobbed the boat from one side to the other.
The smell of fish grew stronger as she stepped into the bowels of the boat. What must Hermione have felt, waking dizzy and disorientated in this gloom? Had she screamed? Cried out? Why had nobody heard her? Or had they walked swiftly past, their head down as they distanced themselves from the sound? It annoyed her that Purdy was taken in and fussed over, yet nobody had seen fit to report what was happening in the boat. But then so much goes on in plain sight, with people turning a blind eye. Being born into the Grimes household had taught her that. People who closed their eyes to injustice were almost as bad as those taking part. How many had shut their eyes to Jack and Lillian Grimes’s wrongdoings over the years?
Tentatively, she balanced herself as she took in the dingy space. In the corner, a bucket lay tipped to one side. Urine pooled in a pocket of timbers, and next to it was an empty pack of wet wipes. Empty sandwich cartons littered the floor, along with a discarded plastic bottle. And the smell . . . Amy raised a hand to her nose. She was never eating fish again.
After speaking to his colleagues, Malcolm followed her down. He appeared almost ghostly in his white forensic suit, illuminated by the shaft of light from the grubby porthole. Amy turned her attention to the rusted single bed.
‘Look at this,’ Malcolm said, pulling back a blanket. He shifted the damp, spored mattress to reveal something scraped into the wood panelling. Leaning forward, Amy peered at what looked to be letters H and E scraped in the wood. ‘Hermione?’
‘Or help,’ Malcolm said. Either way, it looks recent.’
‘She didn’t do this with her nails, did she?’
Malcolm shook his head. ‘There’s a screw missing from the bed frame.’
‘Clever girl.’ But it was too early in proceedings to carry too much hope. ‘Any sign of it?’
Malcolm shook his head. ‘We’ve gone over every inch, and it’s not here. Could be that he’s taken it off her . . .’
‘Or she’s keeping it hidden in case she needs it.’ She sighed as her thoughts grew dark. ‘Any blood on the sheets? Signs of sexual activity?’
‘No,’ Malcolm replied. ‘We’re seizing the bedding, but the blood stains were found here . . .’ He pointed to the door. ‘And on the top of the steps. Looks like someone gripped them with blood on their hand. Thankfully it’s not enough to have come from any great injury. We’ll know more when the test results come in.’
‘Fast-tracked?’ Amy said. It would take a chunk of their budget, but it was imperative they find their suspect. If they had been arrested in the past, then their DNA would be on the system, and this could bring the case to a quick conclusion. That’s if the blood wasn’t Hermione’s, of course. She thought of Damien and his previous convictions. Soon she may know for once and for all.
Perching on her office chair, Amy listened to the unanswered ring of Dougie’s home phone. She had imagined him calmly dressing in his smartest suit and tie before calling Essex Police and asking to speak to DI Donovan before handing himself in. She still struggled to believe he had framed Lillian for her crimes.
Amy needed to update Lillian’s solicitor, in the slim chance Lillian knew where Hemmy was. Why hadn’t Donovan rung her with an update? Was he peeved with her for her short response the last time they spoke? His inquisitiveness about Lillian had cut their fledgling friendship short. There was no update on the system. From what she could tell, DCI Pike wanted to give Dougie’s past misdemeanours a wide berth. The sense of guilt was overwhelming. Was she sentencing her father’s best friend to spending the rest of his years in prison?
‘Amy, nice to hear from you,’ DI Donovan replied after the second ring. Amy’s frown deepened at his familiarity. She should have used the work phone instead of her mobile, but she did not want the call logged.
‘I was wondering if you’d processed Douglas Griffiths yet,’ she said, seeing no point in small talk. ‘He was due to get in touch. It’s about the Lillian Grimes case.’
‘Oh . . .’ Donovan replied, a hint of disappointment in his voice. ‘I’ve not heard anything . . . Just a second, let me check my emails . . .’ Time passed as his mouse clicked in the background. ‘Nope, nothing there either. I’ve been around most of the day. Was it important?’
‘Very. He’s coming with a shoebox full of evidence – evidence he used to frame Lillian Grimes.’ She stood from her chair, her frown deepening. ‘Dammit, I should have called you to give you the heads up.’
‘I’m looking through the STORM reports, we’ve had nothing from anyone of that name.’ What the Met called CAD, Essex Police called STORM. It was an acronym for logged incidents and calls. The ringing of her desk phone drew her attention away, and Amy blew a loud exhalation into the mobile phone. ‘It’s my DCI. I’ve got to go. If you hear anything call me straight away.’
‘Sure,’ he said, taking a breath to say more, but Amy hurriedly hung up the phone. She did not mean to be so short with him, but perhaps it was better that way.
DCI Pike’s voice had an urgent tone as Amy answered her desk phone. ‘I’d like a word with you, please. Now.’
Amy stared at the pho
ne as Pike hung up. ‘Bye then.’ She sniffed, miffed at Pike’s abruptness before remembering she had done the same to Donovan just seconds before. Why couldn’t Pike come down here and speak to her? Did she feel she had more authority in her own setting? The friendship they had enjoyed was clearly coming to an end. She would fix this, she had to. For now, her main priority was finding Hermione and getting her home safe.
Her brow was furrowed as she took a seat behind her DCI’s desk.
‘I’ve got some bad news, I’m afraid,’ Pike said, her fingers intertwined. Behind her, the clock seemed to tick unnaturally loudly. Tick, tick, tick, the seconds passed mercilessly as time ran away.
Amy sat bolt upright, her muscles clenched. ‘Have they found Hermione?’ she said, preparing herself for the worst. ‘Is she dead?’
‘No.’ Pike sighed, taking a measured breath. ‘I wanted to tell you before you picked it up on the system.’
‘An incident has come in?’
Pike nodded. ‘Officers have attended and confirmed it. I’m afraid Dougie Griffiths is dead.’
CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
Amy stared into the distance as she gripped the steering wheel of her car. Dougie was gone. She did not want to believe it, but she could understand it. Prison was far worse if you were a police officer, particularly if you were wheelchair-bound. You could easily encounter people you had convicted over the years. Why hadn’t she just left things alone?
‘At some point, you’re going to have to tell me what’s going on.’ Paddy’s voice was gentle as he sat next to her, waiting for her to gather her thoughts. He had found her in the station car park, unable to get out of the car. Pike had authorised her attendance at Dougie’s home. The duty inspector had already declared his death as non-suspicious, but she could not rest until she saw the scene for herself. She barely remembered driving back to the station. All she could see was Dougie lying face down on his bed. I’m going to have a bath and change into my best suit. When I leave this place, I’ll do it with grace. Amy recalled his words. Had he been gearing up to this all along? The empty pill bottle by his side explained as much as the suicide note he left behind. Amy felt the world close in, until it got to the point where she was unable to step out of her car. She needed to release the floodgates and have a good cry. But she couldn’t because if she started, she might not be able to stop.
‘He was a close friend of my father’s,’ Amy said, giving Paddy the sanitised version of the truth; the version that did not include her connection to Lillian, or the evidence stored in their loft.
‘So, you really think one of Lillian’s supporters kidnapped Hermione to draw attention to her case?’
Amy gave him a weak smile. Steering the conversation to work was the best way of helping her right now. ‘It’s possible,’ she said, grateful for his presence. ‘But I’m loath to direct too much attention to it. Do we focus on this and ignore the other veins of enquiry?’
‘This investigation has more holes than a block of Swiss cheese.’ Paddy smiled back.
An understanding passed between them. He knew she hated hugs. His presence was enough for now. ‘I take it Molly’s had no luck with infiltrating the group on Facebook?’
Paddy shook his head. ‘Apart from the “two days” countdown on Twitter, there’s nothing about any kidnap attempt. I suppose I’d best be getting inside . . . Will you be OK?’ He gave her a look filled with empathy, a look from someone who understood tough times.
‘I’m fine,’ she said, not wanting to burden him. ‘I meant to ask, how did things go with Geraldine?’
‘As well as expected. I asked Jenny, the IDVA, to call in on her. She said Geraldine’s been in touch with her sister, she’s getting support from her.’
‘And you believe her?’ Amy replied, referring to Geraldine.
‘I’ve no reason not to. That’s where she was the other night – with her sister. Where else would she be at that hour?’ He drew in a heavy sigh. ‘What happened to your friend Dougie . . . it got me thinking. I don’t want Geraldine to end up the same way.’
Amy could sympathise. The weight of responsibility was a heavy one. ‘I’ve tasked an officer to speak to her about trolling. They’ll say they picked it up from her IP address.’
Paddy nodded, reaching for the door latch. ‘Fine by me. Are you coming in?’
‘Stick the kettle on,’ Amy replied. ‘I’ll be in by the time it’s boiled.’ Gently she slipped an envelope from her pocket. ‘Dougie left me a note. I want to read it before I go in.’
‘Oh. Of course . . .’ Paddy said, a flush rising to his cheeks as he tried to find the right words. ‘Well, um . . . if you need anything, just give me a shout.’
‘Thanks,’ Amy said, grateful for his kindness. She meant it. With Paddy, there was no ulterior motive. Their friendship was genuine, built upon their mutual love for the job. As she watched him leave, she felt grateful to have him in her life. As for Dougie, the kindness he had displayed towards her when she was a child was marred by his behaviour during Lillian’s case. How could he plant evidence, knowing she may not have committed those crimes? Had he so little faith in the justice system that he served? Inhaling a deep breath, she opened the envelope as she prepared to read Dougie’s words.
Dear Amy,
I’m sorry it has to end this way. As you know, I have taken the death of your father quite hard, and after losing my own parents recently I find no reason to carry on anymore. It was very kind of you to visit me, and I’m ashamed that I had a part to play in Lillian Grimes’s case all those years ago. You advised me to go to the authorities, giving me enough time to gather my dignity and prepare myself for what lay ahead.
I kept the shoebox of evidence because I was too ashamed to throw it away. Perhaps one day I knew I would be held accountable for my actions, but hand on heart, I would do it all over again. Lillian Grimes is guilty of the murders of those women. She should spend the rest of her days in prison. But I admit that I gave the investigation the help it needed when it came to charging her. In the box, you will find some threads from the red cardigan she was wearing. I planted some of those on the bodies to ensure that she was found guilty in court. This is the only time I have ever planted evidence during my career as a DC. I also planted hairs from her hairbrush as well as an earring in the burial sites in the house. I could not risk her being set free.
I do not regret my actions. I am a hundred per cent sure of her guilt. However, I know where such an admission would lead me, and I am not prepared to spend the rest of my days in a prison cell. I hope this will help give you some closure. Everybody else on the team worked incredibly hard and with total honesty, including your father. I am sorry to have let him down. I am going to sleep now. It will be one from which I will not awake. You are young and strong and will pick up the pieces of your life. Robert would want you to begin again. I hope you can forgive me. Please send my love to my relatives, for whom I have also left notes. My funeral plan is in my bedside locker, and everything is paid for. My will is beneath it. As you can see, I have been prepared for this day for some time. This was my decision and mine alone.
Amy, don’t be a coward like me. Make your life count.
Dougie
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
‘I already know,’ Flora said, as Amy tried to break the news over the phone. ‘I spoke to the police officer guarding his front door.’
‘Why didn’t you call me?’ Amy was taken aback by Flora’s sudden show of strength. She wasn’t aware of her mother’s visit to Dougie, and it made her wonder what else had been going on.
‘I knew you’d find out soon enough.’ Flora’s voice was cold. Distant. The Flora she thought she knew would have fallen apart. Was she annoyed with her for telling Dougie to hand himself in?
‘Had a falling out with your DCI, have you?’ Flora’s words bridged the silence. She was trying to act casual, but as she skirted around the idea, Amy could hear that something weighed heavy on her mind.
‘
Why do you ask?’
‘Because you don’t spend any time with her anymore. But then I expected her to lose interest after Robert died.’ Again, Flora’s voice was slow and mocking. It didn’t sound like her at all.
‘Her job is very pressured.’ Amy chose her words carefully. ‘We’ve got a lot on.’ Perhaps Flora was in shock? It was hardly surprising, given all the bad feelings that had been stirred up.
‘That’s not what I meant. I know what went on between them. I’ve known for a very long time.’
Amy’s heart lunged in her chest. To play dumb would only add insult to injury. ‘I only just found out,’ she said softly. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to believe it or not.’ She paused for breath, hearing the clink of a bottle against glass on the other end of the line. Was that why Flora sounded so strange? Had she been drinking to ease her grief? ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ she asked, feeling guilty for not being there.
‘You adored your father. We all did things to please him. He liked my dependency, it made him feel like the big man. But I’m stronger than any of you know.’
‘Have you been drinking?’ Amy said, bewildered by her mother’s change in tone.
‘I’m well entitled to, don’t you think?’ She paused to swallow whatever spirit had filled her glass. ‘He didn’t love Pike, not really. He tried to shake her off, but she used you to get to him. Even after he died, she kept sniffing around to find out what was going on at home.’
‘I never told her anything,’ Amy said. ‘And I wish I’d known because I wouldn’t have spent time with her.’
‘But it’s not that easy, is it?’ Flora paused to take another sip. ‘Not when your career is at stake.’
‘I could have got a transfer. I still can.’
‘No. I don’t want you being posted far away. You deserve your promotion, but you need to prove yourself, too. That’s why you need to find that Hermione girl.’
Truth and Lies (A DI Amy Winter Thriller Book 1) Page 25
