by Kerry Watts
‘Lou,’ he called after her until her car was a fleck in the distance, unaware of the figure tucked behind the neatly clipped beech hedge that circled the entire hotel car park.
Chapter Sixty-One
2001
Daniel Simpson dropped his bag onto the floor of his new room, which was bigger than his room in Carseview. But not by much, and it was colder. The cold was the first thing he noticed. Sharing a bathroom with three other people wasn’t a problem. It was preferable to sharing with twenty teenage boys with varying degrees of personal hygiene ranging from zero to poor at best. He looked forward to having a bath. Being able to choose how long he soaked, and even when. The view from his window was the railway station and, for a minute, he watched the commuters rushing quickly towards the waiting trains and wondered if that would be him one day. Dark clouds gathered overhead before huge drops of rain hammered down on the rush hour travellers, who quickened their pace. He gazed at the variety of umbrellas and hoods being yanked up to protect them from the deluge.
His daydreams were interrupted by the train rumbling away from the station. A noise he wondered if he would get used to. Along with the unpredictable, tempestuous Scottish weather. Then again, staring out at the exquisite Charles Rennie Mackintosh Glasgow school of Art in the distance wasn’t a bad way to start the day. Maybe one day he might even study there. For the first time in a long time, Daniel believed in possibilities. The possibility of having a life outside Carseview. The possibility of finding happiness, despite everything. Within walking distance was the factory that would be his first-ever job. The bottling operation ran a scheme for ex-offenders, and Cam Walsh had successfully managed to find Daniel a place. Although it wasn’t Daniel Simpson they were hiring, because he didn’t exist any more. Cam explained that he had been replaced by Rob Taylor, which was fine. It wasn’t like it was a hard name to remember.
‘What do you think?’ Cam joined him in his room after organising the paperwork with Mary Dalgleish, senior support worker of the supported accommodation project. Cam was lucky to find him a place; Mary’s project had a fantastic reputation, and the fact that her client was outside the catchment area had made it that bit harder, but Cam persevered. The fact that one of the boys had got drunk and trashed the house kitchen meant his place had become available, but even Mary and her team weren’t told about Daniel’s past. As far as they were concerned, a young man called Rob Taylor would be joining them. Daniel’s new life began the moment he stepped out of Carseview by order of Judge Rylance, who rubber-stamped his release. They couldn’t risk the press finding him. He would have no chance if they did.
Rob Taylor turned to Cam and smiled. ‘It’s perfect.’
‘Good, I’m glad you like it. It’s basic, but it’s all you need, right, isn’t it? To get you started, that is.’
‘Cam, I don’t know what to say. I still can’t believe I’m actually here.’ Daniel sat down on his bed. The mattress was soft, maybe even a little lumpy, but it was his. He ran his fingers over the duvet and straightened up the pillow. He would treat himself to a new duvet set as soon as he could, and maybe a couple of towels. Towels of his choice of colour.
‘OK, well, I’m going to head off.’ Cam hoisted her bag further up her shoulder. ‘If you need anything between now and when I come back on Thursday, tell Mary or call, OK?’
Daniel nodded with a smile and stood to see Cam out. He opened the door for her. ‘Thanks. I’ll be fine.’
He watched Cam cross the car park from his window as she struggled to keep her hood up in the rising wind and inhaled a huge breath before blowing it out slowly between his fingers. He turned and stared into the room, which was empty except for his bed, a bedside table, a small pine chest of drawers and a little old-fashioned television with a remote control whose buttons had long since lost their numbers. An electric wall heater gave off a slight burning smell when he turned it up; he figured it must be dust trapped inside.
Daniel opened the fitted wardrobe and pulled out a handful of metal coat hangers, some barely resembling their original shape but still usable. He hung up his white shirt and draped his navy tie around the collar. His smart suit. The one he needed to convince the parole board he was a responsible, safe human being, which he must have done otherwise he wouldn’t be sitting here trembling in the cold. He grabbed a jumper from his bag and tugged it over his head, then rubbed his arms to create some heat.
A sound erupted from the hall outside his room. Men with thick Scottish accents roared with laughter, deep in conversation, about what Daniel had no idea, but they sounded happy. They didn’t sound angry, which was the overriding emotion at Carseview. Daniel had once been filled with so much anger himself. Anger that he had been so stupid. Anger that his mum had let him down again. Anger that left him to take the blame.
He took one last look down at Cam, down in the street, and smirked, then shook his head. He kicked off his boots and flopped down onto his bed, struggling to exhale through his own laughter.
Chapter Sixty-Two
The knock on his hotel room door confused and excited Rob in equal measure. He hoped Louise had changed her mind and come back to him.
‘Hang on,’ he shouted as he unlocked the door. ‘I’m so glad you came ba—’
He tried to slam it shut, but the foot jammed in the door stopped him.
‘You need to leave,’ Rob hissed.
‘Or what? You’ll call the police?’ Rob’s uninvited guest laughed and shoved his way inside. ‘You’re quite the comedian, Daniel.’
‘My name isn’t Daniel,’ Rob growled. ‘Get out of here. This won’t help anyone.’
‘Oh no, and why’s that, Dan?’ Tom spat. ‘I think it’s about time you and I had a chat, don’t you? It’s long overdue, I would say.’
Rob’s six foot three muscular frame might dwarf Tom Nicoll, but that didn’t stop the fear. His years of hate had made Tom a giant. The look in his eyes bore right through Rob. Who could Rob call for help? He had burned every single bridge he had, and the police were the last people he wanted to talk to. They thought he’d repeated the crime for which he’d lost his freedom all those years ago.
‘What do you want, Tom?’ Rob would have to talk his way out of this. He smelt the beer on Tom’s breath from across the room ‘I don’t know what you’re expecting me to say.’ Rob had to fill the disturbing silence before panic struck him dumb.
The hatred that Tom Nicoll felt for Daniel Simpson, as he would always remember him, was as powerful right there in that hotel room as it was the day Sophie’s body was discovered. He wished his dad was alive to see the terror in Sophie’s killer’s eyes.
‘There’s nothing I can say to make this any better,’ Rob’s voice trembled. ‘I can’t change what’s happened.’
‘Do you ever think about her?’ Tom finally spoke.
‘Of course I think about it.’
His body language betrayed him with its tense, clenched, rigid posture.
‘My little sister was an “it”, was she? Is that how you saw her?’
‘No, of course not, I meant “her”, I do think about her.’ Rob stopped to lick his dry lips. ‘Sophie,’ he ended in a whisper.
Tom lurched forward and stabbed a finger into Rob’s collarbone. ‘You don’t get to say her name,’ he spat.
Rob’s entire body shook as he pushed Tom’s arm away, relieved to see him stumble backward and come to rest on the bathroom door frame, steadying himself as he slipped.
‘I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? Of course I’m sorry, but no matter how sorry I am, and no matter what you do to me, Tom, Sophie will still be dead. Do you think I want this? If I could go back to that day, that morning. If I had known what he had planned, Tom.’
Tom was shocked by the tears that stung his eyes when Rob said her name.
‘You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to do to you over the past twenty years. The things I still want to do to you. Maybe if I’d got to you sooner, little Shannon Ros
s would still be alive.’
Rob pointed his finger aggressively at Tom. ‘I did not hurt Shannon. I would never hurt Shannon, or Louise, and don’t you dare suggest otherwise. I’m not that boy any more.’
Tom grinned. ‘Touched a nerve, have I?’
Rob glared without answering.
‘I have, haven’t I? Louise is your fucking kryptonite, isn’t she? It was her that led me here, by the way.’
The horror on Rob’s face betrayed the terror he felt when he saw Tom reach into his pocket and pull out a knife.
Sweat trickled across Rob’s brow, dripping down, nipping at the corners of his eyes. His throat was tight, but his heart didn’t race, and he wasn’t gasping for breath. Instead a calmness washed over him. Tom’s words became inaudible; morphed into a distorted message Rob couldn’t understand. Maybe this was the justice Sophie had deserved all along. Tom tightened his grip on the knife’s handle.
‘Come on then, do it. I deserve this for all the pain I’ve caused.’ He pulled Tom’s hand closer and pressed the knife to his chest. ‘Just do it.’
‘You would love that, wouldn’t you? Nice and clean and simple.’ Tom spat. ‘Do you really think I want to spare you any pain?’ He laughed. ‘You’re very wrong indeed, Daniel Simpson. I’m going to enjoy making you suffer, slowly. The way you and Jack did my little sister.’
‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Rob yelled into Tom’s face, his eyes wide and staring before ending in a whisper, ‘Just do it. Finish it.’
Rob closed his eyes and waited. Time slowed and one small drop of sweat ran over Rob’s nose and another trickled onto his lips until he licked the salty liquid away. It was then that the hammering fist battered on the door, startling Rob out of his daze. He pushed Tom away, sending him toppling into the bathroom door frame before hitting the floor.
‘Rob Taylor, this is Detective Jessie Blake. Open the door.’
Chapter Sixty-Three
Jessie waited while Rob was assessed by the paramedic. She watched a dazed Tom Nicoll being led away in handcuffs, his knife safely sealed in an evidence bag.
‘OK, you’re good to go.’
Jessie smiled to the paramedic as she passed on her way back to her waiting ambulance.
‘I swear I didn’t hurt her, but I’ll come with you, detective inspector.’ Rob offered a ghost of a smile then turned away. Jessie slipped her hand around Rob’s arm and led him to her car.
‘I’ll get it,’ Eric shouted to his mum, and was stunned to see Ben Randall standing on their doorstep.
‘Can I come in?’ Ben asked, his eyes struggling to focus as he swayed.
‘God, look at the state of you.’ Eric opened the door wide and helped Ben through.
‘Who is it?’ Agatha’s voice carried towards the boys at the front door.
‘Come on, you can sleep it off in my room.’ Eric tucked one of Ben’s arms around his shoulder, so the teenager could lean on him for support.
‘It’s fine, Mum, don’t worry,’ Eric shouted.
‘Thanks, mate,’ Ben slurred. ‘I don’t want to go home.’
Eric couldn’t help but wonder exactly why Ben sought sanctuary with him after spending the past two years bullying him constantly with taunts of ‘faggot’ and ‘queer boy’.
‘Stay here as long as you like,’ Eric lied.
He hated the idea of Ben spending time there but, under the circumstances, he would let him sleep it off for a bit. Ben slumped on the bed and Eric draped a blanket over him.
‘You’re a good guy, Eric Baldwin,’ Ben muttered as Eric helped him out of his shoes. ‘I wish I was more like you.’
‘Shut up and go to sleep, Ben.’
‘It’s my fault she’s dead,’ Ben slurred. ‘My fault.’ Then his words disappeared into loud snores.
Eric scowled. ‘You’re such a fucking drama queen, Ben Randall. You think everything is about you, don’t you?’
He shook his head and pulled his bedroom door closed behind him.
Chapter Sixty-Four
Dylan Logan looked on as Rob signed his name on his release form. No matter how hard Jessie tried, there was no evidence to suggest he had anything to do with Shannon’s death. Nothing on Shannon’s body linked her death to Rob and, at the time of her disappearance, Rob was in a room full of his readers. He was free to go, and Jessie was back to square one.
Dylan couldn’t believe Rob was capable of the crimes he’d committed as a child. He had always seemed to calm, so in control. Since Rob’s identity was exposed, Dylan had searched the internet for details of Sophie Nicoll’s murder. He couldn’t blame Tom Nicoll for going after him like that. If someone had done those things to his sister, Dylan would be inconsolable, and perhaps his anger would never disappear either.
Louise waited outside the station for Rob because he had nobody else. It was as simple as that. Rob was utterly drained. Jessie’s questioning had sucked every ounce of energy he had left after his ordeal.
‘Come on.’ Louise reached out her hand to him and tried to ignore the photographers who had assembled outside as word spread of Rob’s arrest. The couple were followed by the group until they reached Louise’s car.
‘Where do you want to go?’
Rob rubbed at his tired eyes. ‘Just drive, I’ll figure out the rest once we’re away from here.’
Dylan Logan showed his ID to the nurse in charge, who pointed him in the direction of Tom Nicoll’s bed. The sound of their voices stirred Tom from his sleep and he watched the young detective approach. He didn’t regret a single part of what he’d done, aside from the fact that Daniel Simpson was still alive.
‘Hello, detective, I’ve been expecting you.’
‘How are you doing, Tom?’
Tom smiled. ‘Shall we just cut the niceness and get down to it?’
His abruptness didn’t surprise Dylan. Tom was an intelligent man. He knew perfectly well that attempting to murder Rob wouldn’t go unpunished.
‘I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to ask you to accompany me to the station. Doctor says you’re fit to be discharged, is that correct?’
Tom nodded. ‘Can I have a minute to get dressed?’
‘Sure, I’ll be right outside.’
Dylan tugged the curtain around the bed, but he didn’t leave Tom for a moment, even though he was on the other side of the curtain. Tom was soon dressed and ready to go. He held his hand out in front of Dylan.
‘No handcuffs, Tom. We won’t need them, will we?’ Dylan raised an eyebrow. He wanted to avoid Tom’s humiliation, which didn’t go unnoticed.
‘Thank you,’ Tom whispered, his eyes glistening with tears.
Chapter Sixty-Five
‘Do you want me to come in?’ Louise asked.
‘No, this is something I have to do alone. She deserves that much. I don’t want to hurt her any more than I already have.’
Rob leaned his body closer to Louise and kissed her cheek. ‘Thank you, Louise.’
Louise instinctively pulled back from him. ‘Go, please.’ She flinched at his touch. ‘Be gentle with her. Cassie is vulnerable and hurting. Make this easy for her.’
‘Can I call you later?’ he asked, and tried to run his fingers over her hair, brushing the stray strands out of her eyes. Her rejection was killing him.
Louise closed her eyes while she shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea for either of us.’ She swallowed hard and exhaled a trembling breath. ‘Goodbye, Rob.’
Rob watched Louise’s car disappear before moving across the drive, wiping hot, stinging tears from his face, gravel crunching underfoot. He didn’t recognise the car parked outside his front door. He inhaled two deep breaths and slowly exhaled them as he reached for the door handle.
‘Cass, it’s me,’ he said as he approached the living room. His heart threatened to burst out of his chest with the anticipation of their confrontation. She had every right to be angry, and Rob feared the nightmare conversation ahead. He tried to imagine what it
would be like to be in Cassie’s shoes, and it was impossible. He couldn’t imagine what he would have done. Cassie was an open book. He didn’t think she was even capable of having a secret.
‘Hello, Rob.’ A familiar face greeted him instead. ‘I thought I’d better pay you a visit.’
Chapter Sixty-Six
The house was in darkness by the time Louise arrived home. She wished Jason was there so that they could get it over with. She hated herself for the extra pain he was going through but couldn’t help it. Rob had given her the passion and pleasure that Jason didn’t, not any more. She couldn’t remember a time when he had ignited the flame inside her the way Rob had.
She squeezed her eyes shut, not allowing a tear to trickle onto her cheek. Not being able to touch or hold her daughter again was crushing her. The agony of her loss gripped her body in the pitch black. The grief was physical as well as emotional, and Louise clawed her stomach and wept. This time she didn’t hold back, and cried into the silent blackness of her kitchen. Her tortured body let out a moan of complete anguish. She felt her stomach tighten and her gut twist.
Louise’s legs weakened, and she slid down the kitchen wall until she reached the floor. She curled into a ball, hugged her stomach and just cried. She screamed into the emptiness, fearing her heart was broken for ever. She was so absorbed in her grief that she didn’t hear the front door open.
‘Louise?’ Jason called out as he walked into the house. He made his way to the kitchen and switched on the light unaware that Louise was there.
‘I didn’t hear you come in.’ Louise lifted her aching body slowly from the floor, rubbing at her stinging red eyes and wiping away the tears. Jason’s face didn’t wear the rage Louise expected to see on it. Instead he held out his hand to help her up from the floor. He took out two mugs and tea bags, then made them both tea without uttering a word.