Hazelton’s eyes burned a hole in Tara. ‘Are you from Bournemouth?’
Tara glanced nervously at Alice before shaking her head. The trouble was, Tara had been raised by a father who had served in the police until he was killed in the line of duty. Whenever trouble reared its head she tended to race off in the opposite direction, hoping the stench of the trouble didn’t follow. She’d been the same at university.
Hazelton’s glare returned to Alice. ‘I hope you’re not interfering in my investigation, Mrs Goodman. You can see how this looks, right? The wife of one of our potential suspects shows up in the vicinity of the crime scene while we’re still searching for clues. It looks suspicious.’
‘I just wanted to find out a little more about Kerry Valentine,’ Alice admitted, feeling her cheeks on fire.
Hazelton sighed. ‘That’s not your job, Alice. Ben hasn’t been totally ruled out of our investigation yet, and your presence here does nothing to help his cause. Do you understand? Don’t come back to Bournemouth until the investigation is complete or you’re going to force my hand and we’ll have to have a more formal conversation about your interest in Kerry Valentine. Am I making myself clear?’
Alice nodded. ‘I just wanted to know if there’s anything I can do to help her poor son.’
Hazelton narrowed her eyes. ‘You need to stay away from him too, Mrs Goodman. For your own sake.’
Hazelton escorted them back to Alice’s Audi and remained on the street until Alice had pulled away.
‘I hope you’re happy now!’ Tara chastised. ‘Can we go home before she changes her mind and fetches the shackles?’
Alice ignored the question. Despite the warning, she’d come too far to turn back now.
THIRTY-THREE
The ‘Welcome to Boscombe’ sign loomed large ahead of them as the stop-start traffic moved along the road. It had taken an age to get this far as the British public made the most of the fine weather and headed for the beach. The Audi’s air conditioning was operating at full blast, but was doing little to cure the clamminess of Alice’s hands as she gripped the steering wheel.
She didn’t need to tell Tara why they had come.
As the traffic lights turned red, Alice scanned the roadway ahead, looking for any kind of clue as to which road Kerry had lived on. She knew she’d recognize it from the news reports she’d seen yesterday, but so far nothing looked familiar. Tara was gazing out of the window, deep in thought, probably pissed off that she’d agreed to come on this wild goose chase at all.
‘I really do appreciate you being here,’ Alice said quietly, the words almost sticking in her throat.
Tara looked at her. ‘Just tell me one thing. Why are you so keen to go digging into something that has nothing to do with you? What is it about this girl?’
Alice put the car into gear as the lights turned green. ‘She didn’t have to die. That’s what irritates me the most. She was hired to do a job, did it and should have been on her way home to her child. Instead, some monster snatched that away from her and orphaned her son. That poor lad will never understand how much he was loved or why it happened. I just … I feel compelled to find out the truth for him.’
‘Why, Alice? Why you?’
‘Because he doesn’t have anyone else. I know what it’s like to lose two parents. Both my dad and stepdad were taken from me too soon, and although I’m coming to terms with my grief, I still miss them every day. How are you supposed to explain to a five-year-old boy why his mummy never made it home?’
Tara didn’t respond.
The parade of shops was made up of a pizza delivery store, a local supermarket, a barber’s, and a fish and chip shop. As she turned into the road, and the one after that, she did recognize the street the reporter had been standing on. One of the properties had been cordoned off – Kerry’s house – and a single officer in shirt and tie was melting in the sweltering heat just outside of it.
‘There you go,’ Tara said. ‘That was her house according to what I saw on the news. Has that satisfied your need?’
It hadn’t. Alice had felt compelled to drive to the street, to get an inside knowledge of the journey Kerry was due to make that night before she’d been attacked, but it hadn’t brought her any kind of answer.
That’s when it hit her: the real reason she was so fascinated by this girl.
As she imagined Kerry leaving the Merry Berry and walking into the darkness of the street, she could see a dark figure chasing up behind her. The man in her head was Ben. Even though she knew he couldn’t be guilty, that he was tied to the lamppost, she couldn’t escape the nagging voice that had her wanting to believe he was the one responsible. As she pulled the car into a space across the street from the police cordon, she felt her eyes welling up.
Tara immediately wrapped a protective arm around her friend’s shoulders. ‘Oh, sweetie, what’s the matter?’
‘She … could … have … been … me,’ Alice stuttered between sobs.
Tara looked confused and waited for her to elaborate.
‘At university … I used to pose for men.’ She took a deep breath and wiped her eyes with the back of a hand. ‘I posed nude for local artists.’ A beat. ‘I would see the way some of them would look at me – men old enough to be my father – and I knew what they wanted, the things their sick minds were contemplating. Every time, one of them would offer me a lift home, but I never accepted; I was too scared to be alone with any of them. But I needed the money and posing was easy. All those times I walked home alone … I could have ended up like Kerry. Had she not been out that night, she could have become me. I was that girl.’
Tara pulled her in closer. ‘You never told me you did anything like that at university.’
‘I was too embarrassed! You worked at the student bar a couple of nights a week for cash, but I earned double what you did for just one gig. I thought if I told anyone what I was doing, they – you’d – get the wrong idea and think I was pimping myself out, which I wasn’t. All I had to do was strip and sit still for two hours. Now Kerry’s life has been snuffed out, leaving that terrified boy with a broken heart. I feel … I feel it is my responsibility to help him, but to do that I need to find him.’
Tara frowned empathetically. ‘How can you help him?’
‘I don’t know, Tara, but I have this overriding voice in my head telling me to track him down. Maybe we could set up a trust fund for him, or, I don’t know, adopt him.’
Tara’s eyes widened. ‘You’re getting way ahead of yourself, Alice. Adoption? You’ve never even met this kid, and as sweet as he might be, you don’t know who else is in his life who might be able to look after him. For all you know, Kerry might have had a long-lost brother or sister, or an uncle or aunt, or I don’t know what.’ Tara bit her bottom lip. ‘I wouldn’t say this if we weren’t friends, but you’re starting to sound obsessed.’
Alice was staring at Tara when she spotted an elderly woman pushing a shopping trolley towards the property they were parked in front of. Without a second’s thought, she was out of the car, approaching the woman.
‘You’re Kerry Valentine’s neighbour, aren’t you?’ Alice began. ‘You were the one who was looking after her son on the night when she … well, when she went missing.’
The older woman was panting slightly, deep sorrow filling her eyes. ‘Yes, dear, are you another journalist?’
‘No,’ Alice said, stepping closer so the police officer across the road wouldn’t hear her speaking. ‘I was an old friend of Kerry’s.’
The woman’s brow furrowed for a moment, and then she squinted. ‘What’s your name?’
‘It’s Alice.’
The older woman’s frown deepened. ‘I don’t recall her mentioning you.’
Alice ground her teeth against the shame of misleading this poor woman. ‘To be honest, I hadn’t seen her in years. Can I help you with your shopping?’ Alice suddenly asked, keen to change the subject. ‘From what I hear, you were very good to Kerry before the end, so it’s th
e least I can do.’
The woman smiled welcomingly and fished in her bag for a set of house keys. She handed them to Alice, who promptly lifted the trolley towards the door and then inside.
‘Would you like to stay for a cup of tea?’ the woman asked as she removed her thin anorak and hung it on a hook by the wall.
Alice glanced back at the car where Tara was mouthing questions with a shocked look on her face.
‘Tea would be lovely,’ Alice said, closing the door. ‘You sit down, and I’ll make it.’
THIRTY-FOUR
Seated at the small dining table which faced the tiny green overgrown lawn at the back of the mid-terraced property, Alice sipped her tea and remained quiet while the woman – Mrs Jones – spoke warmly about the Kerry she had known and watched thrive in recent years.
‘I hadn’t realized what it was she was doing at night,’ Mrs Jones said sorrowfully. ‘She must have thought I’d judge her and not agree to watch over little Finn. That poor lamb. The police came and took him from here on the Sunday morning when she didn’t return. I was so worried that my calling them would get Kerry into trouble again, but she wasn’t answering her phone and I was concerned.’ She paused and looked out of the window for a moment. ‘If I’d known what was going to happen I would have insisted she not go out. I would have refused to watch Finn for her. I would have … I would have …’ Her words faded as the loose skin beneath her eyes moistened.
The room they were in was open plan, with two armchairs, both with flattened cushions. The faint smell of urine hung in the air. It reminded Alice of when she’d been to visit her grandmother at the nursing home shortly before she’d passed away. Alice didn’t want to imagine what her life would look like in sixty-plus years. Hopefully, she and Ben would have had a life full of fun and joy, with a family for them to cherish memories of. She wondered whether Mrs Jones had had such lofty hopes when she was younger.
‘You can’t blame yourself,’ Alice said, reaching for her hand. The skin was cold and hung loosely. ‘How well did you know Kerry? Had you been neighbours for long?’
Mrs Jones squeezed Alice’s hand. ‘I don’t want you to think badly of me for speaking ill of your friend, but I first met her when she broke into my house and tried to steal some of my jewellery.’
Alice gently nodded to show she’d taken no offence.
‘She was only a kid herself then,’ Mrs Jones continued. ‘Must have been three or four years ago. I remember hearing noises late one night, and when I came down to see if it was one of the cats I found her in this room, going through one of my drawers. Well, I was terrified, let me tell you. I didn’t know if she had a weapon or what she might do, and my legs turned to jelly and I fell from the bottom step, bashing my hip on the way down. She came over to me and I feared for my life, but rather than hurting me, she helped me to sit up and called an ambulance. She could have taken off and left me there so she could get away, but she didn’t. She stayed by my side, saying she couldn’t leave until she knew I was okay. She apologized for breaking in and handed back the few trinkets she’d stuffed into her pockets.’
A white and ginger cat brushed past Alice’s legs, startling her.
Mrs Jones continued to stare out of the window. ‘I was taken into hospital and was kept in for a couple of nights while my heart settled back down, and Kerry came to visit me both days. I could see she was in a bad way. Her clothes were filthy, and she was little more than skin and bone. I told the doctors I’d fallen and called out for help, and that she’d been passing and stopped to help me. I never reported the burglary to the police – I thought Kerry deserved a second chance.
‘She told me about her upbringing: in and out of various foster homes – some abusive – and she also told me about her little lad, Finn. Her face would light up when she spoke about him, and I could see how much he meant to her. He was the apple of her eye, and she would do absolutely anything for him.’
A few photo frames on a nearby unit showed a much younger Mrs Jones with a tall, handsome man. In others she spotted images of Kerry, one of which she had already seen in the press. Then Alice spotted a frame with Kerry and a little blonde-haired boy. He couldn’t have been much older than four in the photo, and was pulling a grumpy face. He was the spitting image of his mother, and Alice recognized the look of adoration in Kerry’s eyes.
‘She was only seventeen when he was born,’ Mrs Jones said, spotting Alice staring at the photo and handing it over. ‘Not even a toddler when we first met. She never told me who the father was, and I’m not altogether sure she knew to be honest. I got the impression she’d been badly treated by a few men. She’d had a number of run-ins with the police: shoplifting, antisocial behaviour, and the like, but after that night we met, something changed in her. I don’t know what it was – I’d like to think I had an influence – but she got her act together. She temporarily moved in here with me. I didn’t charge her rent so she did various chores – cooking, cleaning, that sort of thing – and in return she had a roof over their heads. She managed to get a job a few hours every other night, enabling her to save money to start renting the place across the road. It took time, but she got clean of whatever she was on, and I was proud of the woman she was becoming. I didn’t mind Finn sleeping here when she went to work – he was never any bother. Then she’d collect him while he was having his breakfast.’
‘It sounds like she was lucky to find you,’ Alice said sadly, certain Mrs Jones had probably added more years to young Kerry’s life.
‘I feel like I was the lucky one. You wouldn’t understand yet, but it gets lonely when you reach my age. I do what I can to get out and about and to speak to the people that I meet, but in this day and age, most of you younger people – and I don’t mean you any offence – walk along the street with things shoved in your ears, or staring at tiny screens, or both! People don’t seem to want to talk like they once did. There was a time when I knew everyone’s name in the street and who to turn to if I needed help or support, but not now. I try, but it’s a struggle.’
‘Do you know where they took Finn to? I’d really like to meet him.’
Mrs Jones wiped the corner of her eye with a mottled tissue. ‘I wish I knew, dear. They took him and said he’d be safer in their care. That’s one of the worst parts of what’s happened. I miss him. His little face would brighten the room when he came in. He always had one of the biscuits out of my tin. They were nothing fancy, but I got the impression Kerry didn’t let him have cakes and biscuits at home. She was determined to give him a better upbringing than she’d had and swore by fruit and vegetables as snacks. I certainly haven’t eaten as well since she moved out, but she was young and needed her own space. I understood that, but I used to cherish the days when I knew she was coming around with Finn. Even if she only dropped him off, it was a joy to see how well she was doing. A real angel died that night.’
Alice stayed with Mrs Jones for half an hour, listening to her stories about when Kerry had taken Finn to the zoo for the first time, and how Kerry went over the top with gifts and food every year on Finn’s birthday, even though it was only ever the three of them there to eat it all. Alice’s guilt was on overload as she relayed what she’d learned to Tara.
‘It’s a real tragedy,’ Alice concluded. ‘It’s silly but the more I hear about her, the more I can see myself in her struggles. If I had lost both parents so young, how might I have ended up? It just makes you think how lucky you are. You know?’
‘Too true!’ Tara agreed. ‘I appreciate how this situation is making you feel, but there’s nothing you can do to fix it. I don’t think you’ll be truly happy unless you manage to invent a time machine, go back and stop her being killed that night. Speaking as your friend, I think you need to work out a way to deal with your guilt. It wasn’t your fault, Alice. You didn’t send those boys to Bournemouth. Don’t forget, as far as we knew Ben was at home while we were in Paris. You weren’t the one who hired Kerry to come and strip, nor are you respo
nsible for whoever attacked her as she walked home. I don’t want to sound callous, but I think it’s time for you to realize that Kerry herself should have known she was putting herself at risk.’
Tara was right, as much as Alice didn’t want to listen, but that didn’t ease the tension in her neck and shoulders.
‘I think I need to go and speak to DC Hazelton,’ Alice said after a minute. ‘I think she deserves to know what I heard Dave saying on the phone.’
Tara looked shocked. ‘You have no idea what that conversation was about. Plus how’s it going to look: throwing Ben’s best mate under the bus?’
‘If he had nothing to do with Kerry’s death then he’ll be just fine. I also want to tell her about Johnny. You didn’t see Faye’s face the other night. She looked like she’d gone several rounds with a heavyweight boxer. If he’s capable of that kind of behaviour with his wife, what’s he capable of with a stranger?’
Tara sighed loudly. ‘What happens when it turns out neither of them had anything to do with it? How will you explain to Faye what you did? What she told you about Johnny was said in strictest confidence. If she’s not willing to go to the police about his abuse, she won’t thank you for going behind her back. Give the police some credit and space to carry out their investigation. I got the impression from DC Hazelton that she won’t rest until she has the correct suspect in custody anyway.’
Alice pulled up outside the gates of St Michael’s School. ‘Maybe you’re right. Are you sure this is where you want me to drop you?’
Tara looked at the large brick building. ‘Yeah. Unlike some, I’m nowhere near prepared for the new school term. What I’d give for your organizing skills and energy! It’s a struggle for me to get out of bed most days.’
‘Do you want any help? I’m a dab hand at stapling pictures to walls and notice boards, you know.’
Tara pecked her on the cheek. ‘I appreciate the offer, but you should get yourself home to that gorgeous husband of yours.’
Till Death Do Us Part Page 16