We Don't Speak About Mollie: Book 2 in the DI Rachel Morrison series

by Vicky Jones

  “But why didn’t anyone tell me about it? I know I was young at the time, but this was twenty years ago.”

  “Because of your age, and the fact that it was deemed as an ‘accidental death’, nobody was allowed to speak to you about it, as the counsellors and family liaison officers said it would cause you trauma. But the press got wind of what had happened, no doubt paying people to talk, and they camped out in the town while they gathered local knowledge and initially put their own spin on the facts. Anything to sell rags. They interviewed neighbours but were forbidden to interview your family or print anything with your name in to protect you. But it was an open secret. It didn’t stop people talking about it just because they couldn’t read about it.”

  “I Googled my name when you were in the kitchen and couldn’t find anything.”

  “The press had one of them, what they called? ‘Embargo’ thingies. They weren’t allowed, on court orders, to report anything directly because of your age and the nature of the incident. So, the press was annoyed they couldn’t print their headlines. It was a different time back then. Social media didn’t exist either, so you wouldn’t have seen anything about it on there. The local businesses were annoyed at the unwanted attention from rubberneckers visiting the town. No one could break the embargo, but enough was inferred by local tittle-tattle to make it impossible for you to stay here. They were worried for your safety.”

  “That’s why Jenny doesn’t want to have a relationship with me. That’s why she doesn’t want me to have a relationship with my niece. Oh my God, does she think I’d do the same to Charlotte? What kind of a monster does she think I am?” Katie’s tears were streaming down her face now.

  “Oh, Katie, I’m so sorry,” Pam said as she passed her the box of tissues she had by her sofa.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” Katie asked, blowing her nose.

  “I know what it’s like to have people treat you not very nicely.” Her eyes met with Katie’s and she smiled. “Oh, I know what everyone around here calls me. ‘Nosey Parker Pam’. Just because I like to keep a look out at who’s on my street, doesn’t make me a bad person. But they still stare. They still accuse and call me names in the street. So I kind of understand.”

  “Our crimes are worlds apart, though, Pam. Aren’t they?”

  “You were only a kid. It was an accident.”

  They sat in silence. Pam looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece. Katie had been there well over an hour now. Katie saw her look at the clock and recovered herself. “I should leave you in peace now. I’ve taken up enough of your day. But thank you, Pam. For being the only one around here to be honest with me.”

  They both stood up and walked over to the front door.

  “Are you sure you’re OK?” Pam asked.

  “Yeah. I just don’t know what I’m going to tell my boyfriend. I work in a nursery. What the hell am I going to tell them?”

  Pam looked at her and clasped her hand. “Maybe you should just keep it to yourself.”

  Rachel looked up from her computer after a knock at her door snapped her out of her concentrated stare.

  “I spoke to Callum Davies,” Mags said. “It was the right one. He’s fine. He just wants to be left alone to get on with his life. He said he’s fine with us closing the missing person’s file on him.”

  Rachel frowned. “That’s it? He goes missing for over a year, without letting his family, not to mention his then-pregnant girlfriend, know? Did he say why he didn’t get in contact with anybody?”

  Mags shook her head. “I didn’t ask. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about it.”

  Rachel stared at her.

  “Is there a problem?” Mags asked, placing a hand on her hip.

  “A young bloke with a pregnant girlfriend, just upping and leaving is hardly new, but leaving a shoe on the dockside, as if faking his own death? Just seems a bit extreme. He really wanted his family to believe he was dead. Not just missing.”

  Mags shrugged. “Maybe he thought his kid was better off without him? To be honest, he didn’t look like he had a lot going for him when I met him, poor thing. Anyway, it’s Social’s job now to chase him for child support, not us. Don’t overthink it and make life harder on yourself by looking for something that isn’t there. I’ve been in this game long enough to know that you can’t save them all, no matter how much you might want to. It’s sad, yes. But Callum Davies is a thirty-two-year-old adult. He can decide what he wants. If he doesn’t want Courtney or his dad to find out where he is then that’s his right. And we have to respect that decision. I’ll let the gang know we’re moving on to the next case.”

  Chapter 14

  Still in shock from what Pam had told her, Katie wasn’t in any fit state to drive. A maelstrom of thoughts still swirled around in her head before one came to the forefront. If Pam still lived in the street, maybe Bill did too?

  She walked to the end of Pam’s driveway and looked up the length of the street, one side then the other, looking for a house that triggered any kind of memory. One house in particular, five doors up on the opposite side of the road, stuck out to her. There was a silver Vauxhall Astra in the driveway, a hopeful sign that someone was home, Katie thought. She walked across the road and up to the cobbled driveway, passing a little stone wishing well water feature a few yards from the black-painted heavy oak front door. She rang the doorbell and took in a deep breath as she waited. There was no answer, so she rang again. She heard footsteps. There was a rattle of a security chain still connected as the door opened a crack.

  “I’m not interested,” came a gruff voice from a short, middle-aged man with a thin, scowling face.

  “Are you Bill Thompson?” Katie asked, peering through the crack in hope that she would recognise him.

  “Who wants to know?”

  “I’m Katie, Katie Spencer. You knew my dad…Peter.” Katie was too weary for any preamble.

  The figure behind the door seemed to shrink. The gruff voice had fallen silent.

  “Hello? Mr. Thompson? Can we talk, please? I need to ask you some questions, if that would be alright?” Katie persisted.

  “You need to go. Now. I don’t want you on my property,” Bill replied. His voice was now pinched into a fearful whinge.

  “I won’t stay long. I just need to know what happened to Mollie. Look, I’m not going anywhere until I speak to you, and I can cause a scene if you’d prefer?”

  Katie’s threat had the desired effect. The chain slid off and the door opened. Bill was wearing a tatty wool cardigan, dirty light blue jeans and brown loafers. Clearly in need of a bath and a shave, his stench hit Katie full in the face as a light breeze blew down his hallway from the open back kitchen door. His dark brown malicious eyes glared at her and his lip curled into a snarl, revealing long, sharp, yellow teeth.

  “Listen here, I remember you. Don’t you dare come here threatening me, or I’ll have the bizzies on you. You’re not welcome here, so fuck off.” He prodded a cigarette-stained finger in Katie’s face.

  “Please. Just give me a few minutes to explain. I don’t remember anything about what happened when I was a kid. I’ve only just been told about it.”

  “The rest of us around here remember. I ain’t going through all that shit again. Poor little kid. Just lying there, she was. Head all split open, neck bent.” His dark eyes became glassy as he stared into space while he remembered. He refocused on Katie. “You did that. You.”

  “Where was my dad when it happened?”

  “In the cabin shed watching the footie. We both were. I saw what happened through the window. Heard a terrifying scream that I won’t ever forget and there she was on the ground. You stood there on the decking looking down at her over the broken railing. The look of evil on your face.”

  Katie shook her head. “It just doesn’t make any sense. I was only seven. Please, Mr. Thompson, can I come in for a few minutes?”

  “No. I want to be left in peace now. You tore poor Pete’s heart
out that day. Mollie was his princess, his baby. He never got over it. Died a broken man, he did. My best mate. This street wasn’t the same again. We were always known as ‘the place where that little girl got killed’. But we weren’t allowed to speak about Mollie, for fear of upsetting you. I’ll never forgive you for what you did.”

  Katie burst into tears and pushed against the door. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please.”

  Bill gave her such a look of disgust and wrenched the door away from her as if he thought her touch was somehow poisoning the wood. Katie stumbled forward but Bill stepped back away from her. “It’s way too late for sorry. Now get the fuck off my property, you murdering bitch.” He slammed the door so hard the force of it nearly knocked Katie off her feet. She leaned back against the wall and held her head in her hands as the world spun around her. Eventually, after scraping herself up off the cold stone cobbles, she staggered back to her car. Once inside, she flicked the engine on and sped off, heading to the one place she knew she could finally get answers.

  Sam had answered the hammering on the door.

  “I want to see my sister!” Katie yelled. Jenny appeared in the hallway and blocked off the entrance.

  “No, Katie. I’m not letting you in here. And lower your voice, please. I don’t want Charlotte upset.”

  Sam moved his slight frame out of the way of the tornado that was his sister-in-law. He looked at Jenny with his arms spread. “What’s going on, love?”

  Jenny reached behind her to the hall table and grabbed one of Charlotte’s picture books. Taking the hint, Sam took his reading glasses out of his top shirt pocket and sauntered back into the living room.

  “I know, Jenny. I know everything. I’ve been to see Pam. She told me what happened. I know about Mollie.” Katie’s words tumbled out as she waved her hands in Jenny’s face.

  “I need you to calm down, Katie. The whole avenue will be out on their doorsteps otherwise.”

  “Bollocks to that. I’m sick of everyone fobbing me off and shushing me. I want to know everything. Why didn’t you tell me Dad had died? Did you not think I had a right to know? Or that I’d want to be at the funeral?”

  Jenny lowered her head and exhaled. “I didn’t want you to know he was dying. He didn’t want to see you. He gave me ‘power of attorney’ so it was my responsibility to make sure his wishes were carried out. I’m assuming, as you’ve spoken to Nosey Parker Pam, that you know exactly why now?”

  Sam came out of the living room, his brown eyes set hard. “Love, we can’t have this on our doorstep. Either let her in, or tell her to go,” he hissed at Jenny.

  Katie softened her voice, the tears now rolling down her face. Her eyes searched around as if looking for answers. “Please, Jenny. Please talk to me. I’m so confused. I’ve done something unforgivable, I know. But I need your help. I can’t remember what happened.”

  Jenny looked Katie dead in the eye, her lips hard. “That’s the luxury you have. Because I can’t ever forget. What I saw was horrific. Please go, and don’t ever come back here again.”

  The door was slammed in her face. Overcome with emotion, Katie lurched forward and vomited into the shrubs bordering the path.

  “Are you OK, madam?” the smartly dressed blonde receptionist asked as Katie, her expression vacant, walked up to the desk of the Travelodge hotel she’d booked a room at.

  “I’m checking in,” Katie replied, her tone flat.

  “Name?”

  “Katie Spencer.”

  The young receptionist tapped her bright red nails on the keyboard, locating Katie’s booking, then handing her a room card. “First floor. Breakfast is between eight and ten. Checkout is ten-thirty. Do you need any help with your bags?” She looked over her desk down at Katie’s feet but only saw one overnight bag. “Are you OK?”

  “Yes. Thank you.” Katie took the key card and set off up the stairs to her room. Once inside, she flopped onto the bed after dropping her bag to the floor. The tears soaked into the plump white pillow and drowned out the wails that followed. Then the screams came. Then the punches.

  It all made sense now to Katie. Why she hadn’t heard from her dad in so long. Why Jenny wanted nothing to do with her. Even her not being able to have anything to do with Charlotte became clear. I’m a killer, she thought. But, if it had been the other way around, would she have forgiven Jenny for killing Mollie? The inside of Katie’s mind was a scene of complete and utter devastation. She got up from the bed and walked over to the bathroom. Feeling the cool splash of water on her face, she looked up at the mirror, despising what she saw. Her identity had changed. The red, blotchy face that stared back at her now was of a child killer. Unable to change what had happened, the road forward seemed a blur for Katie. What the hell was she supposed to do next? Her job in the nursery would have to end. Her relationship with Tom would likely be over. He’d never want to have a baby with her now. Not after this. She has killed somebody. She was completely responsible for somebody taking their last breath.

  Her thoughts drifted to the day Mollie died. ‘Died instantly’, Bill had said. But was it painless? The noise of neck bones cracking ran through her head, causing her to vomit in the sink. Why did I push her? And why didn’t I run down where she fell, to help her? “Why did I hate her so much to do this to her?” she shouted at the mirror, as drips of vomit ran down her chin. Was my face the last thing she saw? I’ve killed somebody. I’ve actually caused somebody’s death. I’ve ended somebody’s life. I’m the reason somebody isn’t walking around today. I’m the reason a whole town is talked about. The room started to spin and she sank to the floor in breathless panic. Mollie had died thinking that her own sister hated her enough to watch her die.

  Feeling a sudden sting, then throbbing sensation, Katie looked down at her forearms and realised she’d scratched long red lines down them, drawing blood in patches. Instead of running her arm under the tap, she picked at the deepest scratch until it wept even more sticky red blood. The force of her scratching made the glass on the side of the sink rock and then crash to the floor, smashing into long shards. Without thinking, she picked one up and dug it into her arm, gasping with agonising pain. But the pain released something else with it. A strange and all-consuming feeling of relief. Another cut followed, and another trickle of blood ran down her arm and pooled on the white tiled floor. Running out of clean, smooth skin on her forearm, Katie lifted up her t-shirt and slashed across her stomach, howling in pain. Maybe this pain is what Mollie felt. Before she’d truly comprehended what she’d done, every crisp white towel was stained with patches of blood.

  It was dark by the time Katie opened her eyes again. She was lying on her side on the cold bathroom tiles, her face in what felt like a puddle of liquid. She lifted her head up and ran her fingers over her cheek and chin, then looked at her hand. It was scarlet. In the bedroom, her phone beeped, snapping her into the here and now. Staggering to her feet, she dragged her body over to the bed, trying where possible not to bleed all over the carpet. The towel she’d wrapped around her arm stemmed the bleeding enough for it not to drip.

  “Hello?” she gasped, but the caller had already rung off. Looking down at the call log, she saw it was from Tom. In no clear mind to speak to him, she staggered back to the bathroom and turned the shower on, to try and clean her wounds the best she could. Once she was clean and dry, she wrapped a towel around her mangled forearm and changed into a fresh t-shirt. She collapsed onto the bed, completely exhausted, and fell into a deep sleep.

  It was almost nine o’clock when Rachel finally kicked her shoes off and relaxed back into the comfy cushions of her couch. The folders she’d been organising lay neatly on her coffee table and a glass of wine sat next to them. She reached for the wine glass and took a long, slow drink as she read a text message that had just come through. It was from Chloe. Rachel laughed as she played the video Chloe had sent her of a dog dressed up in police uniform looking like it was arresting a group of cats dressed as gangsters sitting
in a black Ford Model 18 car. She messaged Chloe back and sipped at the wine again, laughing out loud when Chloe’s witty reply came back. It felt nice to laugh, rather than sit at home feeling sad that she was alone, Rachel thought.

  “Coming,” she called out after the doorbell rang. Minutes later, she was back texting Chloe, but this time with her mouthful of sweet and sour chicken and Pickles purring in her lap.

  You should come over one night, Chloe. You don’t know what you’re missing, Rachel texted, with a picture of her takeaway attached to the message.

  Love to.

  “Fucking hell, Katie. Where have you been? Why haven’t you texted me back? I’ve been ringing you for hours!” Tom yelled down the phone. Katie, in a complete haze, struggled to hold the phone to her ear as she was face down on the hotel bed.

  “I’m sorry, babe. I dozed off,” Katie slurred back. “Are you OK?”

  “Yeah, I’m OK. I was worried about you. It’s almost midnight and I haven’t heard a word from you since you left this morning. I nearly called the police.”

  Katie snapped out of her daze. “No. Don’t you be doing that. I’m fine. I was just tired from the drive. I spoke to Jenny and she wasn’t very nice to me, so I got a bit emotional and came to the hotel. Then the journey must have finally caught up with me and I fell asleep. Nothing sinister.” Katie fought to make her voice as even as possible. “I’m sorry, babe.”

  There was a pause. “OK then. I’d better leave you to sleep. But call me in the morning, OK? Promise?”

  “I promise. I love you, Tom.”

  “I love you too. Night.”

  Chapter 15

  After a restless night, Katie showered and dressed robotically, her mind in turmoil. She only had one place to go on her to do list today and, after skipping the complimentary breakfast and checking out of the hotel, she headed straight to her car.