Perfect Intentions: Sometimes justice is above the law

by Leona Turner

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to stay and have some lasagne? I’ve made enough to feed an army.”

  Joanne smiled.

  “Well, Harry, my eldest, said he was going to pick up KFC for everyone tonight, and I’ve never been a great fan of fast food.”

  “That’s a yes, then? Fantastic.” She turned to Dean and Mark.

  “Why are you two still here? Nip to down to Tesco’s and pick up a bottle of champagne, and when you get back you can lay the table.”

  Smiling widely at the two women, Dean and Mark headed back out again.

  Chapter 39

  Holt’s car swung into the prison car park. Parking up quickly, he slammed the brakes on and got out. He walked into the main reception and straight up to the officer at the reception desk.

  “Hello, you’ve been expecting me.”

  The prison officer recognised the man in front of her and ushered him through. Holt was led through to a room where Loretta was waiting.

  Loretta was sitting as serenely as always, a small smile playing on her lips.

  “Hello, Inspector Holt.”

  Holt sat down.

  “How did you know her? Was she your cousin? Friend?”

  “Who?”

  “Sue Lawrence.”

  Loretta looked shocked for a moment.

  “Sue Lawrence?”

  “Yes, Sue Lawrence and don’t pretend you don’t know who she is, she’s the reason Reeves was chosen in the first place isn’t she? Only thing is I don’t know how you knew her. There is one thing I do know for certain though…”

  “Really? And what’s that?” Loretta was becoming agitated.

  “You didn’t do it.” It was a statement.

  “Do what?”

  “You didn’t kill those people.”

  “Really? The evidence would point to the contrary.” Loretta’s voice was low, but her back was straight and she was looking Holt dead in the eye.

  “What evidence? The only concrete evidence we have is that you are responsible for Dean’s abduction and the attack on DS Henson.”

  “Yes, I miscalculated with Dean.”

  “Bullshit. The one thing I know for a fact is that the killer never miscalculated things. You never meant for Dean to die—you just wanted us to think he would. You wanted all the evidence to point to you.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about. Maybe the papers were right; you are past it.”

  Holt sat back in his chair for a moment.

  “No, I’m sorry, that’s not going to work this time. You can question my ability to do my job all you like, but I know I’m right. Who did it, Loretta? Who are you protecting?”

  “Protecting?”

  “Yes, you said it yourself—you protect people from others, from themselves. I thought I understood the motive when Simon Reeves’s identity came to light, but I was wrong, I was seeing it from the wrong prospective. It’s taken me three months to realise that the murder of Simon Reeves was an immediate reaction—the ferocity of it, the need to obliterate him completely. It doesn’t square that someone who had known what he did and lived with it for the best part of thirty years would suddenly decide exact their revenge. So who did you tell?”

  Loretta regarded Holt for a moment and smiled at him once again.

  “I’m impressed—you clearly have a knack for psychology, Inspector Holt, or maybe that’s your copper’s nose busy twitching. But I’ll think you’ll find that whatever it is bears no consequence in the real world. I’ve confessed to the murders and you have no real evidence, forensic or otherwise, to the contrary.”

  “So you will quite happily spend the rest of your life incarcerated for coldblooded murderer?”

  “Coldblooded? I think not. If you disagree, then may I politely request you go back and visit the victims’ bereaved?” Loretta sat back in her chair and Holt leaned in.

  “I don’t think a single one would say they’re happier now.”

  Loretta leaned in to meet Holt’s gaze.

  “What people think and what people say rarely square with each other; why do you think my ex-career is such a booming industry?”

  Knowing there was nothing more to say, Holt got up and left.

  After Holt had gone, the prison officer came in to collect Loretta.

  “Come on, then, let’s get you back to your cell. You know, you’ve got another visitor booked in for this afternoon—Clare Heathers.”

  Loretta looked at the PO and smiled.

  “Oh, lovely, she’s a nice girl. She’s interested in becoming a psychologist herself.’

  The PO returned the smile and led Loretta back to her room.

  Clare was driving to the prison. When Loretta had first spoken to Clare about her own disastrous ex-relationship, it had been a revelation that had at first made Clare feel better about her own pitiful relationship history. But Clare hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and it had built into a rage. This woman who had helped so many through mental anguish had once been the victim of a sadistic bully. It didn’t seem right to Clare, and after a few weeks she had managed to track him down. Simon Reeves had done everything but laugh in her face, and that had been the final straw for Clare. Loretta was now her mentor, and as far as Clare was concerned, mentors didn’t have tragic backstories. Once she’d disposed of Simon, she had felt relief. It hadn’t been until speaking with Hannah that she’d realised that Loretta was far from an isolated case. After Simon’s disposal, it had become easier for Clare to justify the eradication of some other people that had caused her and her friends pain. Hannah’s ex, Matt Reynolds, had been next; Hannah had still known a lot of Matt’s routines and had unwittingly helped Clare. Hannah had mentioned that she had thought of using the spare key he kept on top of the light fitting next to his front door to let herself in and call the speaking clock. Clare had talked her out of it; she had had other plans for Mr Reynolds. Once more Clare had felt the relief wash over her once she had finished her task. Jon Hamilton had been selected thanks to Dean; when Dean had first found out about his paternity he had left a drunken message on Clare’s phone, even alluding to the fact that he had a new mistress, Sarah Lester. It hadn’t taken Clare long to track down her apartment. During Jon’s abduction, she had taken Jon’s keys, assuming, quite correctly, that he would have a key to Sarah’s apartment. Leaving the finger in the ice-lolly had been a particularly gratifying addition to the tableau.

  Richard Abbott had gone out with Clare’s cousin briefly—just long enough to introduce her to the wrong type of people—and she was now, thanks to his introductions, a heroin addict. He had been a remarkably easy target, as had Adam Woodacre, with his reputation and the fact that she already knew exactly where he lived. Clare just wished she had had a camera when she had surprised him.

  Now, though, she felt remorse—not for any of her victims, but for the woman she revered taking her place in a prison cell. Loretta had worked it out that Clare must have been responsible for the murders. While visiting Clare in hospital the night she had lost the baby, she had told Clare that she knew. Loretta had been to her apartment and brought her an overnight bag, and she had found the mask. When Loretta told her she planned to help her, Clare had thought she had meant going to the police. And when Loretta told her not to contact her again, Clare had assumed it was because Loretta hadn’t wanted to be associated with a murderer. She noticed that the mask had been removed and she had thought Loretta had taken it to the police. So Clare had kept her distance and waited patiently at home for the police. When they hadn’t come, she had been confused, but when she saw Loretta’s ‘confession’ across the front page of all the newspapers she had been shocked. If she were being honest with herself, she was still in shock. But she couldn’t leave it any longer, and had rung to arrange a visit.

  Three hours after Jimmy Holt left the prison, Clare sat in front of Loretta.

  “Why did you do it?”

  “You know why I did it. You must continue with
your studies, and you can’t come back here again, either. I recommend that you leave the area.”

  “Loretta, I’m the one who should be sat there now, not you.” Clare’s voice was a whisper.

  “You have your whole life ahead of you, Clare; you have the ability to become a fantastic counsellor. But never lose sight of the ones you’re protecting.

  About a year ago, a girl came to me for help. Her partner was violent towards her and she didn’t know what to do. I told her she should leave him and report him to the police. So she went back home and told him it was over. It created an argument and a neighbour called the police. The police turned up, arrested him and took him back to the police station. However after interviewing him and her, they decided to drop the charges and he was sent on his way.

  I don’t know what happened in the hours following his release but I do know the consequences. She was found with her head staved in by a neighbour the following morning. He claimed temporary insanity. That it had been an argument that had gotten out of hand. They had a record of repeated visits by the police to their address. Their relationship had a history of being, shall be say—troubled. And with the right amount of tears and remorse in the courts, he received eight years. I imagine he’ll be out in four.”

  Clare knew what this was: it was reasoning. In an ideal world she; Clare, would be in prison. But this wasn’t an ideal world, and every day it seemed to slip a little further away from achieving it.

  Clare got up and smiled at Loretta.

  Loretta returned the smile.

  “Just remember to keep up the good work.”

  As Clare went back to her car, she felt almost lightheaded. Getting her mobile from her bag, she decided to ring Hannah.

  “Hi, hon, what are you up to?”

  “Nothing much—why? Do you want to meet up?”

  “Yeah, I’ve got to talk to you about something. I’m thinking of moving, and I wondered if you wanted to come with me?”

  Clare hung up the phone confident that Hannah would be on her doorstep by the time she got back. Throwing her phone down onto the passenger seat, she put the car into gear and left the car park without so much as a backward glance.

  Three days later Holt arrived back at the prison.

  Loretta took the visitor request without question.

  “Hello again DI Holt.”

  “Hello again… Sue.”

  Dear Reader,

  I see you’ve read to the end and I’d just like to take another moment of your time to thank you for downloading Perfect Intentions. I genuinely hope you enjoyed it. For me entertaining you, the reader, is all I want to do.

  If I may make a small request of you, if on completing this book you have enjoyed the journey we’ve been on together, please leave a positive review. It’s good reviews that ensure I can continue to entertain. And as such that makes you, the reader, my priority.

  With that in mind, please feel free to contact me via my website, twitter or Facebook as I’d love to hear from you.

  As, I’m sure you’re aware, Perfect Intentions is not the end of the journey and I hope you’ll be joining me for the sequel.

  Wishing you all the best and I’ll see you again soon,

  Leona Turner.