by Faith Martin
Jake had intimated that Dale didn’t even need to know anything had happened.
Still. He could just be a lying little toe-rag.
And even if he wasn’t, it was still playing with fire.
But then, something worth having always involved risk, didn’t it?
Shit. He felt stupid, humming and hawing like this. It was time he grew some balls, and at least find out what it was Barnes wanted. And then make a decision.
‘I’m just going down to the pub, Liss. Won’t be long.’ He grabbed his coat, car keys and mobile, but in fact, didn’t head for the car at all. Instead, he walked to the end of the street, deserted because of the cold and the rain, and then called a number that wasn’t listed in the phone’s digital memory.
He wasn’t about to leave any traces that Dale might stumble over.
The phone rang four times before it was picked up.
In his study in his north Oxford mansion, Jake Barnes picked up his phone and took a deep, sharp breath, as he immediately recognized the voice on the other end.
Both Steven and Rollo had coached him extensively in what he was supposed to say to Darren Chivnor should he make contact, and he knew that his phone now recorded everything that came in, just in case.
They had all anticipated that it would be Jake who would make the first move and they were due to meet in the morning to finalize the best and safest way for him to do this. So now he found himself perched nervously on the edge of the chair, praying that he didn’t blow it. Despite the tension Jake felt, which was making him feel slightly sick, he remembered the drill. Let Chivnor do the talking. Don’t be confrontational. Keep mentioning the money. Say nothing yet about Jasmine.
They had to get Chivnor on tape, and with full photographic evidence to back it up, if they were to have any hope of getting him to turn on his boss. And for that to happen, they needed major leverage.
‘Hello, Jake. Remember me?’ Chivnor’s voice sounded faintly ironic, as well it might.
‘Hard to forget you, man,’ Jake replied, his mouth dry, his words sounding faintly breathless. ‘I thought you were going to kill me.’ Then he winced. That could definitely be said to be confrontational, and he could have kicked himself for his stupidity.
Darren laughed uneasily, and felt like swearing himself. He was grimly aware that he needed to persuade Barnes that he could trust him again, otherwise he’d never get his hands on the man’s money. The trouble was, apologizing or explaining himself had never come easily. In fact, having to crawl to anyone made him tingle with rage, which was why it was beginning to grate, having to lick Dale’s boots so constantly.
But in this case, it had to be done. Reminding himself to keep his eyes on the prize, he forced himself to sound contrite. ‘Yeah. I know. Sorry about that. I only drew the knife because of that bloke who came in. Do you remember him? I thought he was one of the boss’s men. He’s a ginger nut, too, like that guy was. It was only when I saw him in a better light, that I could see it wasn’t him. But by then, it was too late. You’d already legged it. Like a bloody whippet you were, man, I’ve never seen anybody run that fast.’
Jake laughed himself now. ‘Can you blame me? I thought you’d decided that the documents and the twenty grand were enough. I should have said that there was another cool million in it for you.’
There, he’d made his first mention of the money that was up for grabs.
When they’d discussed it that morning, both Rollo and Steven had decided on the amount – and he could understand why. It was a nice, round figure. And even in today’s market, was still a lot of money. Enough, surely, to hook someone like Darren.
And, as if in confirmation, he now heard a swift intake of breath from Darren, and he grinned, feeling a moment of hot, happy triumph.
‘So, what are we gonna do about it then?’ Darren asked cagily. ‘What do you want for it?’
Jake’s grin vanished instantly. ‘Not over the phone,’ he said quickly. ‘You never know who might be listening nowadays. We need to meet again, but this time, not in the dark. It’s not that I don’t trust you… . Well, hell, yes, actually it is,’ Jake continued, sticking to the script that he’d been given, ‘I don’t mind telling you, I nearly shat a brick last time. I’m not cut out for all that rough stuff,’ he added.
It had been Steven’s idea – to play up the impression of Jake as a harmless innocent-abroad and make Darren feel even more in control and give him something to sneer about. He suggested they reinforce the image that Jake was just another victim, and Dale the big bad wolf. Make him think he held all the aces.
‘OK, fair enough,’ Darren said, a shade reluctantly. ‘But we’ve got to be careful. If I think that Dale even suspects I’m up to something, I’m out. Like a shot. Million or no million – you can’t spend it if you’re dead.’
‘OK,’ Jake agreed quickly. And told him where and when and how they could meet. Just as Steven and Rollo had coached him.
When he hung up a few moments later, he let out a long gust of breath then was straight on the phone to report back to Hillary Greene.
He felt elated. And scared. And utterly determined to make the meet and find out, once and for all, just what had happened to his baby sister.
The next morning, Hillary tuned in to the local radio station as she drove the short distance to work, and sure enough, the MisPer review being carried out by the local police was item three on the news bulletin.
As she pulled into the car park, she thought about Jake’s phone call the previous night. Not surprisingly, when he rang her Jake had been totally hyped and talking far too fast and she’d had to calm him down and talk him through it. It sounded as though it had gone as well as they could have hoped.
As she climbed out of her car, she glanced at her watch. By now, Jake, Rollo and Steven should be listening to the recording, and making detailed plans for the forthcoming meet. She’d already made it clear to both of the bosses that she wanted to be one of those watching and listening in when the time came.
But just at that moment, she had other priorities.
Once she’d checked her emails, touched base with Steven, and made sure that Jimmy and Wendy were clear about their assignments, she went back to Puff and headed to the north of the county.
It was time she met Jake’s parents and began to learn all that she could about their daughter: the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Jake had done right by his parents when he’d come into his first fortune, and they now lived in a very pleasant, detached modern house in Middleton Cheney, not far from the market town of Banbury, where he’d been brought up.
As Hillary parked in front of the large and still colourful garden, she mused on what Jake’s mother, Rosemary, must have made of her only child making such a success of himself at such a young age. Had she worried that earning all the money would go to his head? And had her stepdaughter’s descent into drug-use caused her to worry that Jake, too, might go off the rails?
She shrugged and emptied her mind of all preconceptions as she walked up a flagstone path which had been lined by a mixture of evergreens and other coloured-foliage plants that looked good even in the cold, grey, November light.
The house, though new, had been built of the local pale stone and an electric lamp, set in an ornate black iron and glass case, was burning a welcome above a neat porch. Hillary rang the bell and waited, knowing that not only had Jake told them to expect her, but that he had also filled them in, to a certain extent, on what they were doing. They had been told nothing about Medcalfe of course, or the intricacies and breadth of the police brief – only that Hillary had agreed to look into Jasmine’s missing persons’ case herself. Jake had reassured her more than once in the last twenty-four hours that this agreement was all that his parents had hoped for. The boy wonder freely admitted that he’d been singing Hillary’s praises ever since getting his job with the police, and that both his stepfather and his mother were more than happy to co-operate fully with her.
He’d also told her they would willingly answer any questions she might have, no matter how personal or potentially painful.
All this was good in one way, Hillary supposed, but in another, it only served to pile the pressure onto her shoulders. Although she knew that she’d had more than her fair share of successes, failure was always an option. In any case you investigated, if luck was against you, then it didn’t matter how good your interview technique was, or how clever your deductive reasoning, you could still come up with zero. Experience could take you so far, but if the proof wasn’t there to be found, then you were left with nothing you could take to court.
She only hoped that Jake hadn’t built her up too high, and that his family didn’t expect miracles.
When the door opened and Hillary found herself face to face with Jake’s mother, she could see at once that Jake had inherited his striking green eyes and his good looks from her. For the woman in front of her stood at just a little over five feet tall, and had naturally fair hair that was just turning silver. She was dressed in a pair of warm black trousers and an intricately knitted cream jumper. She wore no make-up, perfume or jewellery, and instantly smiled and held out a long, well-shaped hand.
‘You must be Mrs Greene,’ she said, and as Hillary tried not to flinch at the little-used and unwelcome title, swept on. ‘Jake’s told us so much about you. I can’t tell you how much we appreciate what you’re doing for us. Please, come on in.’
Before Hillary could respond, she’d already turned and was leading the way into a large, modern sitting room with an expensive mock-fire and indicated a pair of sweeping brown leather armchairs. As she did so, a man in his mid-fifties rose from the matching sofa and turned to face her.
‘Curtis, this is Jake’s boss.’
Jake’s stepfather was about a half a foot taller than his wife, but that still put him just an inch or two shorter than Hillary herself. He was running a little too fat around the middle and his dark hair was thinning, but he had soft, rather gentle brown eyes and a pleasant face which currently wore a slightly anxious expression.
‘I hope Jake hasn’t got himself into too much trouble with everyone at work, Mrs Greene,’ he began, forcing Hillary to nip all the Mrs Greene business in the bud quickly in the only way that she could.
‘Please call me Hillary,’ she said. ‘And don’t worry about Jake. From what I’ve learned of him so far, he’s well able to take care of himself,’ she added, not seeing any point in pretending that she condoned their son’s behaviour. And saw the couple exchange a quick, rueful look.
It was Curtis who laughed slightly. ‘Sorry. It’s just that Jake warned us you wouldn’t sugar coat things for us, and that you were something of a tough nut. And I mean that in a good way,’ he hastened to add as his wife shot him an appalled look.
Hillary smiled to show there were no hard feelings, which there weren’t; in her life she’d been called far, far worse.
‘What Curt means,’ Rosemary put in quickly, ‘is that Jake really respects you, for your worth ethic, experience and intelligence. He’s told us as much as he can about the cases you’ve worked on, and how clever and tenacious you are and how much you’ve always impressed him. So—’
Hillary smiled, but held up a hand, intent on stopping the woman in mid-flow.
She understood why these people were anxious to get her on their side, of course, but she didn’t need her ego stroking. ‘Please, let’s all sit down, shall we?’ she suggested. Once they had all settled, she began to take control of the interview. ‘I know that the circumstances in this case, and how we came to be investigating it, are a little unusual, but believe me, it won’t affect how I do my job. So, to get a few things clear – yes, we’re not pleased with Jake and what he’s been up to,’ she nodded to Curtis, ‘but no, he’s not in any real trouble.’
She didn’t add that trouble was almost certainly coming Jake’s way in the form of Darren Chivnor, because she knew that the boy wonder hadn’t kept his parents informed about that part of his campaign to find Jasmine. As far as they were concerned, his only misdemeanours had been in joining the Thames Valley under false colours, and poking about in data that wasn’t in the public domain.
And Hillary, for one, was happy to keep them in ignorance.
‘And so there’s no need for any more awkwardness,’ she swept on. She needed these people to feel less wrong-footed and to be more focussed on giving her what she needed. ‘When I finally learned the reasons behind what Jake was doing, I was happy to help – we all were – both Acting Chief Superintendent Crayle, and our new boss, Superintendent Sale: We’re all dedicated to finding out what happened to Jasmine.’
This had the effect that Hillary hoped for – both of them seemed to relax slightly.
‘So, I know the basic facts of what happened,’ she went on swiftly. ‘Jake’s filled me in on your family history and given me his version of things. What I need now is your input. I take it her biological mother is out of the picture?’
‘She is.’ It was Curtis who spoke, flatly and firmly.
Hillary nodded. ‘I understand you might not want to talk about her, Mr—’
‘Curtis. Call me Curtis.’
‘Thank you. Curtis. But I need to cross her off as a possible link to Jasmine’s whereabouts. Would Jasmine have contacted her mother, either with a view of getting money or as someone she might live with when times got rough, for instance?’
Curtis snorted. ‘No and no. For a start, Jas would know that her mother wouldn’t have a penny to toss in the pot – and if she had, she certainly wouldn’t share it with anyone. Everything she ever got went up her nose or in her veins. And secondly, we – and this includes Jas – don’t even know where she is anymore. We haven’t done for a number of years. She might even be dead by now. In fact, she probably is.’
Hillary nodded and made a mental note to check the databases to see if that was, in fact, the case. Not that she seriously expected Jas to have gone to her mother for help. From the sounds of it, it seemed pretty clear that the woman had never played a large part in her life.
‘She never was interested in Jas even when she first came to live with us as a little girl,’ Rosemary put in sadly. ‘Never visited at Christmas or remembered her birthday or anything,’ she added, shaking her head. ‘I don’t know how she could do that, do you? I mean, not even to care how your own child was faring.’
Curtis sighed, but said nothing.
‘Did Jas resent that?’ Hillary asked gently.
‘Oh no. Right from the start, she was happy here, wasn’t she, Curtis?’ Rosemary said, looking across at her husband for confirmation, which was quickly given. ‘I was a little nervous when she first came to us,’ Rosemary confided. ‘I was frightened she would resent me, think that I was trying to take her mummy’s place, or take her daddy’s love away from her. You know how difficult it can be with young children. But that didn’t happen. Instead, she really took to me. She was such a loving little girl.’ Rosemary’s voice faltered a bit, but she quickly swallowed back any sign of weakness. ‘And I’d always wanted a daughter. Who knows, perhaps she sensed that. We did all the things mothers and daughters did – we went shopping for a pretty dress whenever she got invited to a birthday party. We took her out to the zoo, and we baked cakes together. She really was happy.’
‘You gave her everything she could have wanted, Rose, I keep telling you,’ Curtis added, glancing over at his wife with a kind of sad resignation. ‘It was nothing you did, or said, that made things turn out as they did.’ And then, turning to Hillary, added unnecessarily, ‘Rose blamed herself for what happened. But it wasn’t her fault. It was growing up for those first, formative years with her real … I mean, with her biological mother that did the damage. No, if anyone’s to blame for how things turned out, it was me. I should have insisted that Jas come and live with me the moment I realized how things were and left home. But she was only two then, and I thought … well, you do, don’t you, that if you tak
e a little kiddie of that age away from their mum, it’s not good psychologically.’
He shook his head. ‘But if I had it to do all over again, it’d be different, I can tell you. Because watching her mother booze and drug herself up to the eyeballs – even if she wasn’t old enough to really understand what she was seeing at the time – well, it has to register in here, doesn’t it?’ he demanded, tapping the side of his temple with his finger.
Hillary said nothing. She could tell that she was witnessing something that this couple must have struggled with for years, but there was very little in the way of comfort or consolation that she could offer them.
Instead, she shifted them back on track.
‘I understand that the trouble began when she was a teenager at school. Jake told me that he was away at uni then, and when he came back for the holidays, he realized she was drinking.’
‘Yes. That’s how it started,’ Rosemary said quietly. ‘At first, we didn’t realize. She was fourteen, and going out with a gang of other girls and boys that age. And you expect teenagers to be a bit rebellious, don’t you? To start having secrets, to stop wanting to be so tight with the old parents. They think they’re all grown up and know everything – and that’s all perfectly normal. I remember thinking the same things, at that age.’
‘Me, too,’ Hillary added with a smile.
‘Unfortunately, the gang she was hanging out with had older friends who’d go into shops and buy cider for them. And six-packs of beer,’ Curtis took up the story. ‘And then we found out that they were going to one of the kid’s houses, whose parents were always away, and raiding their liquor cabinet. And then it wasn’t just shandy or cider they were drinking, but the real hard stuff. Whisky, brandy, gin, vodka, you name it.’
‘And those horrible alcopop things,’ Rosemary put in quickly. ‘They look so pretty in their coloured bottles and so harmless with their cool brand names and what have you. Jas used to drink them like she used to drink cans of Pepsi.’
