Her Secret Past: A completely gripping and heart-stopping crime thriller

by Kerry Watts

  Arlene leaped up and tilted the blinds to block out the sun that was streaming into the room.

  ‘Is that any better?’ she asked.

  ‘A little,’ Tommy murmured and reached for the glass of water next to his bed.

  ‘Here, let me.’ Arlene smiled and lifted the glass. She pressed the straw to his lips.

  Tommy enjoyed the cool drink. His mouth was so dry. He felt his lips crack at the edges and wondered how he’d got there. He had no memory of any accident. He was struggling to remember much of anything at all. He wasn’t even sure what day it was.

  Arlene helped him back and pulled his blanket further over him.

  ‘You don’t have to be here,’ Tommy pointed out.

  ‘I want to be here.’ She smiled and reached down to kiss his forehead, allowing the erupting tear to form and trail down over her cheek before pressing her thumb across her damp skin. ‘I was so worried when the hospital called. You still have me as your next of kin.’

  Tommy tried to laugh and held his hand to his head when the pain tugged on him more intensely. ‘Mum will love that. Have you seen her?’

  Another tear formed in the corner of Arlene’s eye when she realised she would have to tell him the worst news imaginable.

  24

  Gordon sliced through the chaos of different members of staff, unsure which nurse his mum wanted him to tell. He looked at each of their uniforms and tried to figure out which one he should approach. The woman in lilac looked like she was carrying a bin bag so it probably wasn’t her he wanted. A cleaner wouldn’t be much help. Not with this. The two younger girls in pale blue tunic and trousers had ‘Student Nurse’ written on their badges. Probably not them either. He watched the elderly man shuffle slowly past, irritated at having to move around him.

  Gordon chewed his thumbnail until a tall, bearded man in a dark navy uniform came out of the lift at the entrance to the intensive care ward. This could be the one he needed.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Gordon called out. ‘Mum says Dad needs a nurse.’

  ‘Sure, no problem. Who’s your dad?’

  Gordon had to glance up at the man, who stood a good three inches taller than him. He looked him once in the eye then slid his gaze to the side. That was enough time to make eye contact, Gordon thought. That was more than he was really comfortable with.

  ‘Tommy Angus – he was hit by a car.’

  ‘Ah yes, I know him.’ The nurse smiled. ‘Come on then, let’s see what’s happening.’

  Gordon followed the middle-aged man to the side-room door, unsure why the man was smiling after Gordon told him what had happened to his dad. He looked inside at his dad writhing in agony and clutching his head. He looked worse than he had only moments before. He was making loud whining noises and Gordon didn’t like that. Gordon frowned. That didn’t look right.

  ‘Mr Angus, can you hear me?’ the nurse called out over the sound of Tommy’s anguished cries.

  ‘Do something!’ Arlene insisted while she paced the side-room floor.

  ‘Tommy, where does it hurt?’ The look on the nurse’s face grew from concern to alarm when Tommy’s pain seemed to be intensifying.

  Gordon looked on from the doorway, unsure what exactly was going on. He’d never seen his dad look so bad – he’d seen him in some states in the past few months but this seemed different. That nurse looked quite worried now after smiling like that. He was pressing a loud buzzer and a flurry of activity erupted around his dad’s bed. His mum was leaning over his dad and didn’t notice Gordon turn and walk away.

  He pulled his notebook from his pocket and pressed the button for the lift, narrowing his eyes at the greying woman with tears in her eyes who got in with him. She sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue she retrieved from the cuff of the grey cardigan that matched her hair, Gordon noticed. He wondered if that was deliberate. She smelled like apples, he noticed too. He knew that meant she hadn’t eaten for a long time. Ketosis, he remembered it was called.

  He shifted his eyes to the floor when she spotted him staring.

  The woman sniffed again and blew her nose. Gordon tried to ignore her. He opened the notebook to the first page and looked at the list of questions that remained unanswered. He planned to write a book – an idea that had burned in him for a few months. It wouldn’t be fiction; it would be a true-crime bestseller about the brutal murder of an elderly couple.

  The sound of Gordon’s ringtone startled the other passenger in the lift, making her cry out in fright slightly before blushing. His mum had told him to turn the tone down several times, particularly because it was a thrash metal tune. Gordon’s favourite. His lips curled into a smile at her response.

  ‘Hello,’ he answered but got no response before the call ended with the screen showing no signal. ‘Shit,’ he exclaimed.

  ‘My phone doesn’t work in here either,’ the woman informed him just as the lift stopped on the ground floor. She smiled awkwardly at Gordon before walking out ahead of him.

  Gordon dialled the number, disappointed to be put through to voicemail right away. He hammered the end-call button without leaving a message. He’d recognised the number right away and was surprised to have heard from him so soon, if at all even. The thought of their meeting made Gordon’s heart race. Seeing pictures of their crime scene stirred Gordon in ways he’d never experienced. Ways he couldn’t explain. He was so close he could taste it.

  Gordon dialled the number one more time and paced back and forth outside the hospital entrance while he waited. One more ring meant voicemail again but this time he wasn’t disappointed.

  ‘Hello,’ the deep, gravelly voice came down the line.

  ‘Is it really you?’ Gordon asked. ‘When can we meet? I have so many questions.’

  ‘Not so fast,’ the man interrupted. ‘Did you get the money? The amount we agreed.’

  Gordon confirmed the details immediately and checked his watch. He headed to the bus station hoping he’d catch the next bus to Dundee. Everything was falling into place. Gordon would finally meet his hero.

  25

  Rachel poured another nip of whisky while she listened to drawers being opened in her bedroom and Detective Logan moving things around in the utility room. She sank the burning liquid in one mouthful. Kenny was still shouting down the phone at their solicitor. She winced at the bitter taste but poured another straight away.

  A memory of her grandfather sipping whisky from a small crystal glass on New Year’s Eve burst into her head. The only time Peter Connor ever drank alcohol was on Christmas Day and at Hogmanay. He said it was important to mark the start of a new year. But she and David had stopped him from reaching that final new year. What they did had returned to haunt her. She could hear the young male detective moving something in the utility room. The dogs barked and he spoke softly to them. He liked dogs, she mused, and sank the last of her nip. She turned to see Kenny stride back into the living room.

  ‘What did he say?’ Rachel asked and poured him a nip.

  She stared out of the bay window at the wind turbines in the distance. The sun was low in the grey winter sky. It looked like more rain would deluge the village any time soon. She heard the horses kicking up a fuss in the stable. They must be able to feel the heavy atmosphere. Rachel wouldn’t be surprised if it thundered later that night. Her horses hated thunder.

  She reached up and opened the top part of the window to smell the air. Yes, a storm was definitely brewing. Outside of the cottage as well as inside.

  ‘Just sit tight was all he advised. Let him know if we need him.’ Kenny took the glass out of her hand and sank his whisky in one gulp then refilled it. ‘Can you believe that? What the hell am I paying him for?’

  Rachel looked back out of the window at the darkening clouds.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she murmured. ‘If it wasn’t for my past they wouldn’t be here tearing our home apart.’

  Kenny pulled Rachel into his arms and tightened his embrace. ‘Now that’s enough. I don’t w
ant to hear any more of that. None of this is your fault.’ He pulled her back and looked into her eyes, which had filled with frightened tears. A single one erupted and slid slowly down her cheek until Kenny wiped his thumb over her skin.

  ‘This is not your fault,’ he repeated and kissed the top of her head before he held her close to his chest again.

  Jessie crouched down and opened the drawer in Rachel’s bedside unit. It looked expensive. Solid pine, she thought. It was heavier than the one she had at home. She flicked through a pile of old photographs. Rachel looked about fifteen, maybe sixteen. She was standing next to a girl with a shock of auburn hair and freckles. The two girls were smiling widely. It had been taken by a river that looked like it rushed past noisily. The white of the current looked angry. A memory of an old case crashed into her mind, making Jessie shiver. Next to the girls there was a tartan picnic blanket with an older woman eating a sandwich on it, a large blue flask in her hand. Jessie returned the pictures and closed the drawer.

  She moved to the fitted wardrobe and slid open the door. Inside she found a unit of drawers and she opened the top one. Rachel had expensive taste in underwear, she noticed.

  Jessie rummaged through each of the four drawers but found nothing but designer clothes. A jewellery box sat on top of the unit. She heard herself audibly gasp at the array of very expensive pieces inside. She lifted the top compartment of the box and found more photographs. Two this time. Both of a newborn baby. The person holding the infant looked very much like Rachel but she wasn’t smiling in these ones. Her eyes looked red and sore. From crying perhaps. She turned over a photo to see the date – 14 July 1991.

  Jessie pursed her lips while she considered whether these were relevant. She tapped them a couple of times on her chin then studied the sadness in the girl’s eyes again.

  Jessie laid the photos back into the box and replaced the lid before putting it back where she found it. They didn’t seem important but Jessie made a mental note of their existence.

  ‘Why have you got my boots in a bag?’ Rachel surged forward to take them from Dylan but Kenny grabbed her arm. She turned to face him and frowned. ‘Kenny? What are they doing?’

  Rachel didn’t wait to hear his answer. She pushed past Dylan, who was thrown by the force when she thudded into him. Jessie took off after Rachel, who was now outside the front door and running towards the stable. She left the front door swinging open behind her.

  26

  ‘Rachel, stop,’ Jessie roared over the strengthening gusts of wind. She screwed up her eyes against the huge raindrops that splashed onto her face.

  Rachel ignored Jessie’s pleas and carried on into the stable. She thrust the door shut before Jessie could catch up. Jessie heard the bolt slam over from inside. She hammered the palm of her hand on the thick wood. Then her phone rang out in her pocket, the ringtone barely audible over the howling winds that blew dust and debris around the yard.

  Dylan stood next to Kenny and both men peered out into the torrential downpour without speaking. Dylan dialled Jessie’s number again. This time he could see her lift her phone from her jacket pocket.

  ‘Dylan, Kenny Ferguson does not leave that house, do you understand?’ she roared down the line.

  Dylan hung up and stuffed his phone away as he turned.

  ‘DI Blake wants us to wait here, Mr Ferguson.’

  ‘But I can’t just stand here and wait…’ Kenny began while he tried to move past Dylan in pursuit of his wife.

  Dylan reached out and caught hold of Kenny’s arm.

  ‘No, it’s better that we wait here.’ He paused and recalled the times he’d seen Jessie handle these tense, electrically charged situations before. ‘Jessie can handle it.’

  ‘You don’t understand, Detective; my wife is extremely vulnerable.’

  ‘She’ll be OK, I promise. My colleague knows what she’s doing.’

  Dylan felt Kenny’s arm soften against his grip and fall to his side. Kenny walked back into the kitchen and flopped down into one of the dining chairs, his head low in his hands. Dylan hoped he was right about Jessie’s abilities.

  Jessie hammered her fist hard on the stable door and winced from the pain of her bruised knuckles.

  ‘Rachel, open the door. We need to talk,’ she shouted above the violent, stormy wind. She heard Rachel’s voice; it sounded like she was talking to someone. Jessie feared she was now trapped inside there with someone. ‘Rachel!’ Jessie screamed.

  The moments that passed felt like hours as Jessie banged her palm against the timber frame. Then silence. Even the wind seemed to die down and the horses became quiet. No more voices. She heard footsteps walking towards the door. The bolt slid across again and the door opened. Jessie watched Rachel walk away from the open door without talking.

  ‘Please stop,’ she called out again. ‘What’s going on?’

  Rachel did stop this time and moved to the corner where there were several bales of hay lined up. She slumped down onto one of them and dropped her phone down beside her.

  ‘I can’t do this,’ Rachel murmured and pressed her face into her hands. ‘I can’t let you lock me up again. I just can’t.’

  27

  1991

  She ran and didn’t look back. She could hear them snarling and growling behind her. They were gaining on her – she was sure of it. The trees grew thicker the deeper she moved into the woods. The path had disappeared long since and she was now scrambling through gnarled, overgrown trunks and shrubs. She whimpered as she tripped over a protruding branch and crashed to the dirt. She couldn’t stop. They would smell her.

  She stood and rubbed the blood from her knee and fled. The growling grew closer. She could smell them now. They must be so close. Up ahead a cottage came into view. She could hide in there. Her lungs burned from running. It felt like days since she’d been able to rest. They’d hunted her ever since that night.

  She grabbed for the handle. The hounds were close and baying for her blood. They wanted to tear her apart and devour her heart. She tugged and pulled but it wouldn’t budge.

  There they were; they were right behind her now. She had nowhere left to run. They stalked closer, their shoulders hunkered low, moving carefully, their teeth bared. She watched blood-streaked saliva drip from the edges of their jaws. She closed her eyes and listened to her heart race. Fear gripped her. She leaned back and felt the cold air hit her cheek when the first bite came at her. She smelled their rancid breath. She squealed and tried to be brave.

  Just as she thought the final killer bite was coming, the door behind her gave way and she fell inside. She gathered up all of her strength and slammed the door shut, the sound of howling and snarling and scratching coming from outside. She tried to swallow. Her throat stung and her mouth was so dry. The pain grew inside her head. The room spun. She had to grab hold of the carpet to stop herself from being thrown around. It got faster and faster until she felt her body being pulled downwards into a black hole that had opened up in the floor. Thunder roared outside. The midnight sky lit up with lightning; the smell of sulphur filled the air.

  He’d come for her. The devil had come for her just like her grandmother had said he would. Heat hit her feet and the flames licked up her calves until they reached her knees. She grabbed hold of the edge of the abyss and tried to climb back out to save herself. She didn’t want to go. She was sorry. She didn’t mean it.

  She heard the voice grow louder and louder.

  Rachel’s eyes snapped open and she sat bolt upright in her bed. Her foster mother sat on the edge of her bed, a look of serious concern on her face.

  ‘You’ve had a bad dream, that’s all.’

  Rachel ran her fingers through her sweat-soaked hair and glanced across at her roommate, who yawned and turned over, then tugged her duvet over her face. She gasped to gain control of her breath.

  Rachel reached for the plastic tumbler of orange squash on the table between the two beds in the small room they shared. She sank the full amou
nt in one. She’d had that dream three times now. Every time she woke before he could get her.

  28

  Arlene wanted to be anywhere in the world than there with Tommy. His eyes searched hers for the answer to his simple question. She could lie. Perhaps she should lie until Tommy felt stronger. He’d been through a horrific experience, and he was lucky to be alive. He wasn’t strong enough to hear that his parents had been murdered.

  The doctor who’d examined him increased his observations of Tommy to every fifteen minutes.

  ‘Is Gordon with you?’ Tommy coughed once and held his ribs. ‘I can’t remember much from today.’

  Arlene watched him look around the room then back into her eyes.

  ‘Gordon is here somewhere. I think he might have popped out to grab a coffee for me,’ Arlene lied. Gordon hadn’t been back for more than half an hour. Not since she’d sent him to find the nurse. She knew that detective was looking for him too and hoped she would find her son before the police did.

  ‘Since when do you drink coffee?’ Tommy tried to smile despite the headache that was building in intensity again.

  Arlene laughed to cover her anxiety. ‘There are a lot of things you don’t know about me, Tommy Angus.’

  ‘Yes.’ Tommy grabbed his temple again and sucked air in through his teeth at the pain. ‘L-like what?’ he stammered.

  ‘Do you need me to get the nurse, Tommy?’

  Then Arlene shrieked and rushed to the nurses’ station, leaving the side-room door wide open. ‘Help me, somebody, please. My husband. There’s something wrong.’

  When Arlene returned she was horrified to see Tommy slumped, unconscious on his bed. She stood back and watched the chaos of nurses and doctors surround him again. They muttered amongst themselves, saying things Arlene didn’t like the sound of.