by Adam Croft
‘You set up covert recording equipment in your own house?’ McKenna says, one eyebrow raised.
‘Yes. Because of everything he’s been doing to me. I’ve had to. I’m not crazy. I had to do it because of the things he does, because of who he is.’
‘Can you tell us any specifics?’
‘Yeah. He’s tried to break me up with my friends. He stole some jewellery from my nan’s house and tried to make out it was me.’
‘Jewellery?’
‘A necklace.’
‘When was this?’
‘Uh, about six weeks ago I think.’
‘Can you talk us through what happened?’
‘My nan died,’ I say. ‘She’d been ill for a while. She had dementia. There was a necklace she always wore. Amethyst. I always really liked it, and when she died it went missing. My parents blamed me, but I hadn’t gone anywhere near it. Tom took it.’
‘How do you know he took it?’
‘It was in the coffee jar in our kitchen.’
McKenna nods slowly. ‘Okay. That doesn’t necessarily mean it was him, though, does it?’
‘It couldn’t have been anyone else.’
‘Could you potentially have done it and, I don’t know, forgotten about it? Had some sort of memory lapse?’
‘No. Definitely not.’
‘Have you had memory lapses in the past?’
‘No.’
McKenna and Brennan share a look.
‘Let’s talk about life in general. How about work. Do you work?’
‘Sort of. Not at the moment.’
‘Oh? Why’s that?’
I sigh, and feel Brian squirm beside me. ‘I’m suspended.’
‘What for?’
‘Officially? Gross misconduct. I sent an email to my boss about a client, and apparently sent it to the client as well.’
‘An angry email?’
‘I guess.’
‘Aggressive?’
‘I’d say more sarcastic. I’m not an aggressive person. But I don’t know how it ended up with the client. I didn’t do it. I didn’t send it.’
‘Does anyone else have access to your emails?’
I think about this for a moment. ‘Well, no. But I think Tom hacked in somehow.’
‘Hacked in?’
‘Yeah. I don’t know how it works, but I can’t think of any other explanation.’
‘Is it possible you could have sent it accidentally? Or perhaps you forgot that you’d done it?’
I narrow my eyes and shake my head. ‘No. No, that’s not possible.’
‘And what about while you’re suspended from work, Grace? How are things financially?’
‘Well, not great, obviously. Mum and Dad were contributing towards my mortgage, but now they’re not.’
‘Because of the falling out?’
‘No. Well, sort of. It was before then. There was another falling out.’
‘And is this necklace valuable, do you know?’
‘I’ve got no idea. I wouldn’t have a clue. Are you trying to accuse me of something? Because there’s no way in hell I’d ever consider selling that necklace, even if it was mine, and even if it was worth a million pounds. It’s worth far more to me than that. Listen, you need to speak to a detective in Cornwall. Her name’s Jess Caton. She knows all about Tom. She’s investigated him.’
McKenna writes down Jess’s name. ‘What was he investigated over?’
‘Uh, I don’t know exactly.’
‘So how do you know Jess Caton?’
‘She’s Tom’s ex.’
McKenna and Brennan share a look. It’s one I interpret as not being all that encouraging.
‘Okay. And how did you come into contact with her?’
‘She emailed me. She tracked me down when she found out Tom and I were dating. She wanted to warn me about him and tell me what he’s like. He’s a pathological liar. He tried to manipulate her too, and he was doing it to me. He attacked me. And when I found out what he was like, I had to run. He’s dangerous. You have to believe me.’
McKenna leans back in her chair. ‘What do you mean “what he’s like”?’
‘He lied to me. About everything. He told me his ex — the one before Jess — he told me she’d left him and taken their daughter with her. But she didn’t. She died. They both did. There was a car accident.’
McKenna glances at Brennan. ‘And was this investigated?’
‘Yeah. It was down in Cornwall. Tom was in the pub. They were going to pick him up.’
‘So he wasn’t involved in any way with the accident itself?’
‘Well, no. But he lied about it.’
‘Lying isn’t illegal, Grace. If he wasn’t involved in their deaths that doesn’t make him any sort of threat. It’s entirely up to him if he wanted to tell you about it or not. Maybe he didn’t want to have to explain what had happened.’
‘No. I know. But he told me his parents were dead too, but they’re not. They’re alive. I’ve seen them.’
‘Grace, I’m sorry, but I fail to see what this has to do with anything. I understand you might have been unhappy about all of that, and it’s entirely your decision if that’s something you wanted to end your relationship over, but I’m not sure it strikes me as justification for running him over.’
‘I didn’t run him over!’ I say, my voice getting louder. ‘He threw himself in front of my car!’
Brian puts his hand on my arm and leans in to whisper to me. He tells me it’d be a good idea for me to calm down. I’m angry, upset, but lucid enough to know that he’s got a fair point. Showing myself to be an aggressive person isn’t the sort of thing that’s likely to help cancel out a charge of attempted murder.
‘I think it would be best if my client and I took some time out to discuss matters,’ Brian says.
51
On Brian’s advice, we prepared a statement signed by me, which we gave to McKenna. In it, I repeated my denial of having assaulted Tom or having attempted to harm or injure him in any way, and went into detail about everything Tom had done to me, as well as the things Jess told me he’d done to her. I wanted to make sure they had absolutely everything on record, and that was my condition for agreeing to prepare a statement.
After that, I was taken back to my cell, and I finally managed to get my head down for a while. It can’t have been for long, because I wake up feeling worse than I did before. But at least I’ve got everything out there. I’ve got it all off my chest. It’s officially on police records now. And I just hope and pray they’ll get in touch with Jess and corroborate everything.
A short while later, my cell door opens and McKenna’s standing in the doorway.
‘Grace. Time to go,’ she says.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re free to go. We’re satisfied no crime was committed.’
‘What do you mean no crime was committed? Did you listen to the recordings on the pens?’
‘No pens were found, Grace. We had officers search your property, but there weren’t any recording pens in your kitchen or living room. Only a couple of biros on the kitchen table.’
My face drops. Tom found them. He got there first, and got rid of them.
‘So you don’t believe me?’
McKenna steps into the cell and sits down on the hard “bed” next to me. ‘We do, as it happens. We take these sorts of things extremely seriously. We’ve got officers on patrol looking for Tom as we speak.’
‘What do you mean looking for him? He went to hospital, didn’t he?’
McKenna shuffles awkwardly. ‘He did, and he was discharged as he didn’t have any injuries requiring treatment.’
‘So why wasn’t he arrested at that point?’
‘Because he’d been discharged before we spoke to you about the abuse, Grace. I know. I’m disappointed too. But all we can do now is find Tom, arrest him and put your allegations to him.’
‘Can I stay here until you find him?’
‘I wish it was that simple. I’d struggle to justify keeping you in a cell when you’ve been cleared of any crime at the best of times, but we’ve just had word that we’ve got a bunch of football hooligans being brought in after a brawl outside the cup match tonight. Is there somewhere safe you can go?’
I run through a few options in my mind. I can’t go home, because Tom could be there. He knows where my parents live, so that’s not an option either. ‘I could go to my friend’s place,’ I say. ‘Cath Baker. There’ll be three of us then, and she lives in a flat so he wouldn’t even be able to get as far as her front door. She only lives the other side of Tesco’s. I could be there in less than two minutes.’
‘Okay. We’ll need to take a note of the address so we know where you are. Would you like someone to escort you there?’
I think about this for a moment before answering. ‘Does Tom know I’m here?’
‘No. He knows you were arrested, but he doesn’t know which station you’re in or that you’re being released. No-one’s been able to get hold of him for hours.’
That’s when it all makes sense. He’s done a runner. The second the police get close, he’s gone. He did exactly the same when Jess told him she knew what he was — who he was.
‘It’ll be fine,’ I say. ‘You’ve got enough to be dealing with. I’ve only got to walk through a supermarket car park.’
Once I’ve left my cell, I’m formally told I’m being released without charge and my personal belongings are given back to me.
The police let me call Cath, and I tell her what’s happened and ask if I can come to hers. She tells me Ben’s out at the pub with a friend but will be back in an hour or so, and she’s looking after Ben’s niece and nephew, so she can’t leave them while they’re asleep. I tell her it’s fine — I’ll only be a few minutes.
‘Your phone,’ McKenna asks me. ‘Is that the new one you bought?’
‘Yeah. He can’t track it.’
‘Alright. Keep it on anyway, okay? Call me on this number as soon as you get to Cath’s flat and are inside.’ She hands me a business card.
‘I will,’ I say. ‘And thanks.’
They let me out the back way into the police car park, then unlock a gate so I can take the most direct route — through Tesco’s car park and over the crossing to Cath’s flat. First, though, there’s something I need to do.
I go into Tesco’s and head straight to the wine aisle. I pick up two bottles of Pinot Grigio, head to the checkout and pay for them. As I’m halfway across the car park, my phone rings. I answer it.
‘Grace, it’s Jane McKenna.’
‘Oh, hi. I’m not quite there yet. I popped into Tesco’s to get some wine. Figured we could do with it after the day I’ve had.’
‘Grace, stay on the phone for me until you get there, alright? We’re going to walk an officer over to you to make sure you’re okay.’
‘Why? What’s wrong?’ I ask. There’s a tone to McKenna’s voice which makes me feel uneasy.
‘We’ve just had a call from Devon and Cornwall Police,’ she says.
I feel the blood draining from my face.
‘Why? What’s the problem? Oh god. She wasn’t actually a police officer, was she?’
‘Yes. Yes, she was,’ McKenna replies.
‘So what’s the problem? Why can’t you speak to her?’
‘Because she’s dead, Grace.’
52
I freeze on the spot.
‘What?’ I say, my voice almost a whisper.
‘We don’t know what’s happened yet, but we want to make sure you’re safe. We’re sending an officer over to make sure you get to Cath’s without any issues.’
I understand straight away what this means. My life is in immediate danger. Tom has killed Jess Caton, and I’m next.
As I’m about to speak again, a figure emerges from behind a parking ticket machine. I recognise it immediately. It’s Tom.
You have no idea how good it feels to see you again. I’ve waited so long. Traveled so far. Gone through so much. I always knew you’d come back to me.
You look so delicate, so fragile and elegant. My butterfly. I gave you those wings. I held you inside that chrysalis, that protective cocoon, to stop you from feeding on that poison. And now look at what you’ve become. I was so proud of you. Was.
I created you. I thought I was doing the right thing. So did Dr Frankenstein. Did you know that was actually the doctor’s name, and not the monster? But these days everyone thinks Frankenstein was the monster, not the doctor. Isn’t it strange how people can get so muddled up as to which one is the real monster?
Of course, the doctor and the monster both die. The doctor dies first, running away from the monster he created. But not before he agrees to go back home and face his creation.
The only person who could have cared for the monster was the good doctor. He was the only one who understood him, who knew what made him tick. I must say, I sympathise entirely. And now we face our own final chapter.
53
I can’t speak.
Tom takes my phone and ends the call.
‘In the car. Now,’ he says, showing me a large knife.
I could run, but he’d catch me immediately. I look behind me, but there’s no sign of the police officer McKenna told me they’d sent. Before I have a chance to decide what to do next, Tom grabs hold of me, opens the car door and shoves me inside. Within a couple of seconds he’s in the driver’s seat, has started the engine and we’re on the move.
He pulls out onto the main road and quickly builds up speed, steering with one hand as he switches my phone off with the other and puts it in his jacket pocket.
‘Where are we going?’ I ask.
‘Just for a little chat.’
‘I don’t want to chat. I want to go home. I want to be on my own.’
‘You will be.’
Tom drives out of town and out onto a rural lane. I’ve been down here once or twice before, but it’s not an area I know well. As we get further and further out, there are fewer and fewer cars, until Tom pulls over into a small car park by some woodland.
‘Wait there,’ he says. ‘I’ll come round and let you out.’
‘Where are we going?’ I ask when he opens the door. ‘I don’t want to get out.’
‘Do as you’re told.’
‘What are you going to do?’
He ignores me. I get out of the car, swallow, then try to force out the words I’ve been wanting to ask. ‘What happened to Jess?’
‘You know what happened to Jess. She’s gone.’
The coldness of his words alongside the chill winter air sends an icy blast right through me, and I shove my hands in my cardigan pockets.
‘Did you kill her?’ I ask.
I feel something sharp press into the small of my back, and I know in an instant it’s a knife.
‘Walk.’
‘Tom. Please. Don’t do this. Just leave. Start a new life somewhere. I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Just don’t do this. Please.’
He doesn’t answer me, but instead presses the knife harder against me until I start to walk, deeper and deeper into the woods.
54
We reach a small clearing and Tom gestures for me to sit down on the trunk of a fallen tree. It’s damp and falling to pieces, but I’m in no position to question seating arrangements right now.
We sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Tom speaks.
‘Why did you have to do it, Grace? Why did you have to go and visit that fucking bitch?’
‘She contacted me. She told me things. I wanted to find out the truth.’
‘I don’t know what this obsession is with the truth. Why do things have to be “true”? Sometimes the truth isn’t the most convenient thing, you know. Sometimes there are very good reasons for things not being true. Sometimes it’s a hell of a lot easier if they aren’t.’
‘But you can’t hide from what happened, Tom,’ I say, almost pleading. ‘
I know what happened to Erin. It wasn’t your fault. It was an accident. It’s not healthy for you to not come to terms with that. You need to be able to accept what happened.’
‘Accept it? Accept it?’
‘You know what I mean. It wasn’t your fault, Tom.’
For the first time, I see a tear running from his eye.
‘Yes it was. It was my choice to go out drinking and leave them on their own. It was my choice to demand they came to pick me up. I could have got a taxi. But I didn’t.’
‘There’s no way you could have known what was going to happen. For all you knew, you could’ve got a taxi, they stayed at home and the house could’ve caught fire. You can’t take responsibility for that.’
‘That’s not the sort of thing you can dictate,’ he says quietly. ‘I thought you were what I needed. You reminded me of her.’
‘I know,’ I say, thinking back to how similar Jess and I looked, and how she told me Erin had looked the same too.
‘I didn’t want to kill her,’ he says, almost as if he’s followed my exact train of thought. ‘She left me no choice. I had to protect myself. I had to protect the memory of Erin. She wanted to destroy that. She wanted to destroy us. I lost Erin, then thought I had it back with Jess. When I found you, I had it all again. Until she popped back up and tried to ruin it.’ There’s an anger in Tom’s voice that’s almost visceral. ‘I’ve been through too much. I’ve lost too much. And every single time I’ve had to build it back up from scratch. I can’t risk that happening again.’
‘It doesn’t have to be that way, Tom.’
He shakes his head. ‘It does. We both know it does. We know the way this ends. I don’t want it to have to be like that, but it does. We’ve got no choice now. I don’t want to have to do this, but I can’t face you leaving me alone again, like she did. Like they both did. I can’t have that being my fault again.’
I think I can see a way in. I think I might be able to talk him round. If only to save my own life.
