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

by Vicky Jones

  Jenny laughed. “I’m really trying to stay polite here, Katie, but the audacity of what you’ve done is unbelievable. Just because you want answers to what you did and what you can’t remember, you want to put everybody else through an ordeal they have spent twenty years trying to forget. You think I didn’t have counselling for what happened? I did. I still have dreams. Nightmares. I have to unwillingly live with the memories that you have chosen to unlock. And now you want everyone else to compromise their sanity to make you feel better?”

  “No, I didn’t mean for anyone to have to feel it all over again for themselves. I just wanted to know if you remember anyone else being there that day. I don’t want you to have to see the aftermath of Mollie’s fall, or death, or…”

  “The only person we ever knew in that street that was around our age was a lad called Robbie. Robbie Reynolds. Lived up the road. He used to do a few odd jobs around the backyard for Dad. Just for a couple of quid to help him and his family out as they were skint and scruffy. They were sick of him hanging around the house bored, so it got him out of their hair for a while. His mum was ill and his dad didn’t have much time for him, really. When Dad and Bill were doing some repairs on the cabin shed, they asked Robbie to help lumping wood around for them and collecting up the nails that fell down between the decking boards.”

  “Do you think Robbie could have been there that day? Were they his shoes at the top of the steps?” Katie’s eyes were wide, her words firing out of her mouth as quickly as they’d shot across her brain.

  “Probably. Wait a minute, are you suggesting Robbie killed Mollie? That’s pretty fucking twisted, Katie. Even for you. Dad and Bill saw you standing over Mollie, looking down at her broken, dead body from the balcony you pushed her from. Robbie was a nice lad, wouldn’t harm a fly. No one else did it, Katie. It was you. You need to face up to that.”

  “All I’m asking is… Look, thank you for telling me about Robbie. I’ll go back to the police and ask if Robbie was spoken to. And if he wasn’t, maybe I could go and speak to him. Can you remember if his parents still live in our old street?”

  “Are you for fucking real? You’ve dragged me into it and now you’re going to drag them into it too? Listen, Katie. Listen very carefully, because I am so fucking done with this, and you. Fuck off. OK? I don’t want to hear about this anymore. Just fuck off.”

  “Jenny, please—”

  Three beeps sounded, and the phone went dead. Katie screamed into the silent air and threw her phone down.

  Chapter 19

  “We’re all upstairs ready for your Wednesday briefing, boss,” Mags said, appearing behind Rachel who was sitting at a small table in the archives room surrounded by cardboard boxes and files. Rachel looked up at her, then down at her watch.

  “Christ, is that the time? Thanks, Mags. I’ll be up in a sec.”

  “How long you been down here for?” Mags said, wrinkling her nose at the stale air in the small area Rachel was working in. It was lit only by an insufficient strip light above them. “You’ll strain your eyes trying to read in this light.”

  “Since seven. I wanted to make an early start.”

  Mags’ smile faded from her face. “I thought we were a team?”

  “Huh?” Rachel looked up to see Mags had now folded her arms and was stern faced.

  “You’re keeping a lot to yourself lately. Doing the jobs that I should be doing. You’re meant to delegate, you know.”

  Rachel took her reading glasses off and pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s no reflection on you, or your ability, Mags,” she said, in as genuine a voice as she could fake. “It’s more of an ‘it’s bugging me’ kind of thing with a case I’m looking into. Not official police work.”

  Mags pursed her lips. “Is it a case we’re working on at the moment?”

  “No, not exactly. I just want to make sure I’ve given somebody the right information about something.” Rachel gave Mags a nod of dismissal, then looked back down at her case folder. Mags remained standing in the doorway. She put her hands in her beige summer jacket pockets and exhaled.

  “Right, I’m just going to come right out and say it,” Mags said. Rachel looked up to meet her steely glare. “With respect, ma’am, I know my time here is almost up, but I’m still a copper. I still care. I may be clumsy, and I may be forgetful, but I’m still a detective at this station. And my thirty years’ experience should entitle me a modicum of respect around here. So, please, don’t cut me out of cases. I know DC Sharp is the new bright young thing around here, and being trained up to replace me, but I have something still left to offer the team too.”

  Rachel looked at her, softer this time. “Look, I’m really sorry if you feel left out, Mags. I guess I can be a little stubborn in cases. Too independent, that’s what my mother always says. Always trying to do it all myself.”

  “You don’t seem to have any difficulty asking Chloe Sharp for assistance,” Mags said in a quiet voice.

  “I see it as giving her experience,” Rachel replied with a diplomatic smile.

  “Fine. As long as you don’t forget my experience,” Mags riposted.

  “Noted. But on this one,” she pointed down at the case file she was reading, “I just need to satisfy a curiosity I have with a strange case I’m following. Then, once I’m back on our cases, then I will take into account what you’ve said and split the labour more according to rank and previous experience. OK?”

  Mags’ hard exterior melted. She let a wide smile drape across her round face. “Perfect. Coffee?”

  “Thanks. Now, let’s get to this briefing.”

  The briefing lasted half an hour, and afterwards Rachel took a walk around the perimeter of the police station. The stale air of the archive room had given her a headache and the sunny late morning freshness outside was too tempting to resist. Plus, the change of scene would do her mind good. It had been turning over and over since she’d started looking into the Spencer case. What looked like an open and shut case, two clear-minded witnesses and a child who been caught in the act, now seemed to have a few unanswered questions linked to it. If Katie had seen a pair of boys’ shoes, whose were they? The case report would make interesting reading. The problem was that it was an old file relating to an accidental death. Retention rules for non-suspicious deaths weren’t as strict as those for murder enquiries and she was actually quite surprised that any of the paperwork had survived this long; in most places it would have been destroyed by now. As she strolled, Rachel found herself wondering just how thorough the investigation had been. If Mollie’s death had been viewed as accidental from the get-go, the investigating officers might not have gone to the same lengths that they would have had they been investigating a murder. It was frustrating to think that she might not find the answers she sought, even after reading the case file. Still, Rachel’s copper’s nose was itching.

  As she turned the last corner of the building, her phone rang in her pocket. “Morrison.”

  “DI Morrison? It’s Katie Spencer. I need to talk to you.”

  “Katie, hi. Are you OK?”

  “Robbie Reynolds,” Katie blurted out. “He’s the boy who might have been there that day Mollie died. They might have been his shoes.”

  “Oh, right.”

  “Can you check the report to see if that name is in there? If Robbie was questioned?”

  “I can look over the statements when I get back to my office. If he was, would that put your mind at rest?”

  “Yes. I’d have to accept what I did and get over it.” Katie paused. “Somehow.”

  “And if he wasn’t?”

  Katie’s voice hardened. “Then I’ll need to find him, wherever he is now, and ask him what he remembers. I know you won’t reopen the case, so I’ll have to do it on my own. I need to know. I can’t think of myself as a killer. It just doesn’t feel right.”

  “Katie, look,” Rachel began, trying to choose her words diplomatically. “I didn’t want to have to tell you this. But
…”

  “What?”

  “I was hoping it would all be left, and I guess I wanted to protect you from finding this out but…” Rachel paused as two police officers walked past her and into the building. A gust of wind blew a long strand of hair across her eyes, adding further seconds to her pause.

  “What?” Katie said louder.

  “Well, I do have some information regarding your case. The long and short of it is that because of your age at the time of the incident, taking into account the traumatic nature of the experience and the possible impact on you and your development through the rest of your childhood—”

  Katie let out an impatient growl to get Rachel to cut to the chase.

  “A decision was made to put you through therapy, and on a course of medication to help you forget the whole thing.”

  “What?” Katie said. “Was that even legal?”

  “It was legal at the time, yes. Probably not now. But whether it was ethical is a subjective decision. The fact was that Mollie was dead, and nothing anyone could do could change that. But the doctor that assessed you afterwards, well, their intention was to try and make sure your mental health wouldn’t suffer. Try and avoid two tragedies. It was controversial, though, as the drugs they gave you were very strong. They never used them again, mainly because of the side effects.” Rachel stopped talking when she noticed Katie was now distant on the line. “Are you still there?”

  “What were the side effects?” Katie asked in a thin voice.

  Rachel took a deep breath. Normally she wouldn’t allow herself to be drawn this deep into a disclosure of confidential information, but she knew there was no way Katie would let the matter go now. “I’m sorry to tell you, but it’s highly likely you’ll never be able to conceive.”

  There was a gasp. Then a cry. Then the line went quiet.

  “Katie? Are you there? Do you have anyone with you right now?” Rachel suddenly realised the safeguarding issue of telling a twenty-seven-year-old woman over two hundred miles away that any future family plans were effectively ruined. “Is your boyfriend home?” The three beeps she heard indicated the call was over.

  Katie shrank to the floor and curled up in a ball. Clutching her phone in one hand, her other covered her mouth.

  “Katie, are you OK? I heard a thud.” Tom appeared in the bedroom doorway still holding the TV remote. “Why are you on the floor?” He looked down at Katie perplexed as to why she was lying next to the bed, not on it.

  “Oh Tom, I’m so sorry. I’ve destroyed everything. It’s all my fault.” Katie broke into deep, hacking sobs that triggered Tom to launch himself over to her to wrap his arms around her shaking shoulders.

  “What the hell’s happened? Calm down. Please.” He held her tightly into his body and tried to get her to breathe with him. Finally, she was calm enough to speak.

  “Not only did I apparently kill my sister, but I’ve killed our future too. It’s all my fault why we can’t have a baby, Tom. I’m so sorry.”

  “What? How? I don’t understand.” Tom looked down to see her phone screen still lit up from the last call she’d had. “Who were you talking to before I came in? The doctor?” He sat back and stared at her.

  “No, the policewoman I met up in Liverpool. She told me some more details about my case. I can’t remember what happened to Mollie because they made me take medication to forget. It was basically a fucking medical trial. I was a fucking guinea pig. Until they realised it had side effects. It made me infertile, Tom. And there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

  All of the colour drained from Tom’s face as Katie’s devastated sobs had a second wave.

  Katie wiped her face with her hand and set her lips hard. “It’s my own fault, I guess. Penance. I did a horrible, evil act. It’s only right I be punished. I took a life, so I should have life taken away from me.” She looked at Tom. “I can’t expect you to stay with me now. I’ll understand if you want to leave. I wouldn’t blame you.” She creased into tears again. “Oh, God, Tom, I’m so sorry. You were so looking forward to having a family, and I’ve fucked it up.”

  He sat for a moment trying to gather his thoughts. He reached over for her and pulled her into his lap, cradling her head. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not leaving you. Not ever. I don’t care if we can’t have a baby naturally. There are loads of ways we can make that happen. But the most important thing is that we get you calm.” He kissed the top of her head and rocked her.

  “I don’t deserve you,” Katie said, her soaking wet face buried in his t-shirt. Just then, her phone rang again. It was Dawn. Katie sniffed and wiped her face. “Hi, Dawn,” she said, trying to sound as composed as possible as Tom held her weight in his arms.

  “Katie? Umm… Are you able to come into work tomorrow?” Dawn’s voice paused on the line. “It’s urgent. We’ve had a call.”

  Katie dropped the phone.

  “So, no one by the name of Robbie Reynolds was ever spoken to by the SIO on the Spencer case twenty years ago?” Rachel said, looking up from the case file on her desk and taking off her reading glasses. She slid the file over to Chloe who was seated across from her.

  Chloe scanned through the file and shook her head. “Nothing mentioned in any of the statements about a boy being present. Or anywhere near the house, to be honest. No shoes found at the scene either.”

  Rachel tutted and leaned back in her chair. “She insists she saw a pair of boys’ shoes.”

  Chloe made a face. “Maybe she’s delusional? She’s relying on a memory that manifested itself in a dream, triggered by a regression. Hardly a strong basis for proof, is it?”

  Rachel nodded. “Hardly surprising her mind is in tatters, though. Being told your sister is dead because of you must be shattering. Passing the blame to someone else, I guess, is the only hope she has of living with it. In some ways, I get it.”

  “Me too. I’d probably do the same,” Chloe said.

  “Can you look this Reynolds boy up, Sharp? Just so I can box it off.”

  Chloe recoiled in surprise. “Really? Off the back of what she said?”

  Rachel tapped her nose. “When this itches, I can’t ignore it. Believe me, it’s served me well in the past.”

  Chapter 20

  “Off anywhere nice?” Supt. Jenkins asked as he read over the form Rachel had dropped on his desk early on Thursday morning.

  “Scotland. I’ve worked up enough time to take a day off, so I thought I’d go and tie a few loose ends up on a case I’ve been looking into.”

  Jenkins paused before signing at the bottom. “If it’s a case you’re working on, then you don’t have to take a day’s holiday for it.”

  Rachel shook her head. “It’s an old case, yes. But a closed one. I think there’s more to this one, though, so I need to be sure before I let it go. Your budget is stretched enough without me costing you money in pay and expenses.”

  Jenkins chuckled. “That’s why we like you here, Morrison. Your frugality. We’ll make a northerner of you yet.” He put his pen to paper. “Which case?”

  “The Mollie Spencer case.” Jenkins was blank faced. “Twenty years ago, five-year-old Mollie Spencer was killed by her seven-year-old sister, Katie. But I think there are holes in the investigation, so I’m trying to help the family get some closure on it. Namely, Katie herself. She’s adamant she didn’t do it.”

  Jenkins looked up. “Wasn’t that case signed off as an accident?” He fixed her with an inquisitive stare. “How come you’re looking into it?”

  “Because I’m not convinced it was an accident,” Rachel replied.

  Katie stood outside Dawn’s office, the letter of resignation she’d typed out last night tightly clenched in her hand. She lifted her free hand to knock just as Dawn opened the door.

  “Katie, hi. Come in,” Dawn said in a somber voice. She was wearing a black trouser suit and pink blouse. She took her seat behind her desk and waited for Katie to sit before fixing her with a long, strangely cold look. “As
I said to you on the phone, we’ve had a call. Look, there’s no easy way to say this but…”

  She paused. Katie’s fingers gripped the letter. Taking a deep breath, Dawn continued. “Ofsted have decided to come and inspect tomorrow.” Dawn’s expression changed from grave concern to hope. “I need you back here, Katie. I know that’s ridiculously selfish of me, what with you going through hell right now. But I can’t get through this inspection without my star player. Please? Say you’ll stay today and help me prepare, and come in tomorrow while they’re traumatising me?” Her eyes were wide and pleading.

  Katie crumpled up the letter into the palm of her hand and surreptitiously slipped it into her pocket. Sighing inwardly with relief, she smiled. “Of course I will, Dawn. Just tell me what you need me to do.”

  “Can you go through all the public liability insurance documents, and make sure the health and safety certificate is all up to date? I’m pretty sure it’s due for renewal, so I need you to make sure that’s sorted. Between us we can sort out the resources and brief the rest of the staff. Will that be OK?”

  “Of course,” Katie replied.

  Tom walked into the bedroom after a long day at the boatyard. Taking off his dirty jeans and t-shirt, he threw them into the laundry basket as Katie rolled over in bed. Her face was streaked with dry tears and lined from the chequered pattern on the pillow.

  “How did it go with Dawn?” Tom asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

  “It wasn’t what I thought. The call was from Ofsted. She just needed me to come in to help her prepare for the inspection tomorrow.”

  “Oh, right. OK. You heard anything back from that copper yet?”

  Katie shook her head. “I bet she doesn’t take it seriously. I’m just a crank to her, probably. Making more work for her.”