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

by Kerry Watts

  She looked down at her daughter’s yawning face and couldn’t stop the smile that grew on her lips. She was beautiful. The midwife said she looked like Rachel but she didn’t; she was the spitting image of her dad. Rachel wished she could speak to David. To tell him he was a father.

  She turned at the sound of her room door opening.

  ‘Hello, you two.’ Rachel’s foster mum walked in with another woman Rachel didn’t recognise. Both women looked very serious. She didn’t like the feeling she got from this other woman. She had a large bag with her. Bigger than any handbag Rachel had ever seen.

  The midwife came when she was called and suggested she could take the baby to the nursery so the three of them could talk. Rachel didn’t want to talk. She didn’t think she wanted to listen either. The other woman was introduced as a social worker. Rachel hated social workers and something about this one didn’t fill her with confidence. She was aware of the words ‘it’s for the best’ and ‘for both of you’, but little else. They asked if she had any questions. Rachel couldn’t think of any that made any sense. She shook her head. The woman placed a piece of paper on the table over her bed and pointed to two spots marked with a cross. Rachel lifted the pen. She must have signed it because the papers were swept away. The social worker left her room without saying another word. Rachel searched her foster mum’s face for comfort.

  ‘What’s happening to my baby?’ she murmured and felt hot tears erupt from her eyes. She heard her baby cry. Rachel’s breasts leaked the milk her daughter was crying for. Again, the door opened and her baby was laid close to her breast to feed. The midwife helped the infant to latch on. The sensation filled Rachel’s heart with pure love.

  Her daughter glanced up into her eyes and gripped Rachel’s finger while she suckled. Her foster mum took a photo for Rachel to keep. This wasn’t the first time one of her girls had gone through this. She knew this photo would be important to them later.

  42

  Jessie waved to Dylan as he pulled his Audi up outside her block of flats and glanced back at Benito waving to her from her window. She smiled back at him, a reflex she couldn’t help. He made her feel the happiness that triggered it. Dylan was surprised to see the figure in the window and looked away before Jessie caught him staring. Interesting, he thought.

  ‘I was hoping I wouldn’t have to look at your ugly mug again until morning,’ Jessie joked and pulled on her seatbelt.

  ‘Oh, ha ha,’ Dylan replied as he indicated out of her drive. He nodded at her Fiesta parked at the far end. ‘You got that fixed quick. When did you get time to sort it out?’

  Jessie was irked by his question. More so because she didn’t want to admit how it had happened than his curiosity.

  ‘You know me, I’m good at multi-tasking – like most women. Ask Shelly; she’ll explain how it’s done.’ Jessie avoided eye contact while she said it and hoped he would leave it at that.

  ‘Aye, watch me. I wouldn’t dare ask her anything right now.’

  Dylan’s answer concerned Jessie. She found the timing of this investigation irritating because she wanted to spend time with Ben but for Shelly this must be harder. Christmas at home alone with two toddlers. Neither of them had any family that could help out either.

  ‘Like that, is it?’ she suggested. ‘I can arrange for you to take some personal time if you need it. Family comes first, Dylan.’

  She saw Dylan’s shoulders droop.

  ‘Thanks, Jessie. I appreciate that. I really do but forget I said anything. We’re fine. It’s just that Katie doesn’t sleep well, that’s all. Jack was so easy compared to his sister.’

  ‘Well, if you change your mind, you know I’m always here,’ Jessie told him right before they turned onto the A9 to head out to see the Fergusons’.

  A text broke into the silence that had descended on the two detectives. Jessie reached down for her bag and rummaged for it.

  ‘Everything but the kitchen sink in there, is it?’ Dylan teased.

  ‘Not quite,’ she replied with a smile as she opened the text. She knew who the unknown number belonged to now so she should really delete it without reading it.

  I wondered if you were free for coffee tomorrow. It’s my day off. D

  Jessie shuddered. Ending his message with just the single letter ‘D’. What did he think their relationship was? ‘D’ indicated intimacy to her. Benito ends his texts with ‘B’. Jessie and Dan weren’t friends; they never would be. And she still had to get to the bottom of who’d given him her number in the first place.

  ‘Everything OK?’ Dylan interrupted her musing.

  ‘What? No, it’s fine. It’s not important.’

  Jessie deleted Dan’s message and stuffed her phone into her jacket pocket. The acrid smell of smoke hung in the air as they made their way up the drive to the Fergusons’ destroyed bungalow.

  ‘Jeez,’ Dylan exclaimed. ‘What a mess.’

  Jessie sighed. He was right. The fire must have taken hold quickly but it wasn’t the fire she was interested in. Rachel and Kenny had already been taken to a safe house. Even Jessie hadn’t been given the location yet. Until the reason for the fire had been established it was safer for Rachel to be kept where she could be protected. Jessie argued that a cell was the best place for her but she’d been overruled on that again. She was pleased to see forensics had arrived and were already hard at work.

  ‘Where was it?’ she asked one of the forensic team who handed the bagged gun to her to look at.

  ‘Under the bed.’

  ‘Rachel’s bed, I assume?’

  He nodded as she handed it back to him. Jessie shook her head and exhaled loudly. It must have been put there after she’d searched the room because she would have seen it, wouldn’t she? Sure, she’d been a bit distracted by finding out Haley’s identity but still, Jessie wouldn’t miss that – which begged the question: who’d put it there and why? Was it the same person who’d set fire to the property?

  ‘What a mess,’ Dylan commented and coughed to combat the smoke smell that hung in the air. ‘Do you reckon it was the same person who made the threatening phone calls?’

  ‘A bit of a coincidence if it wasn’t, eh?’

  ‘Aye, right enough but why?’

  Jessie didn’t answer. Instead she scanned the scene by turning a complete 360 degrees. The full moon sitting high above the property illuminated the scene to its maximum, in stark contrast to the black smoke that still billowed above them. Why try to burn it to the ground? What did that achieve?

  43

  Arlene checked her watch before she got in her car. She wondered where Gordon was at this time of night. She found it weird being back in what was once their family home. She still had her key but only used it when she couldn’t get an answer when she knocked. Her family. Tommy and Gordon were her family. It hadn’t been all bad when she and Tommy were married, until his drinking spiralled out of control. But it wasn’t just the drinking; it was the lies that hurt the most. Arlene began to distrust everything that came out of Tommy’s mouth in the end. Then there was Gordon. Tommy had never backed Arlene up over her suspicions about Gordon’s issues. Tommy preferred to bury his head in the sand or the nearest bottle of whatever alcohol he could get his hands on. The day she found out the extent of their debt had been the last straw.

  Arlene waved and flashed a warm smile to her old neighbour who tugged her dressing gown tighter around her ample waist and nodded in Arlene’s direction.

  She checked her phone again and sighed when she saw there was no message from Gordon.

  ‘Where are you, son?’ She feared something had happened to him. Her son was vulnerable and he didn’t have his dad to keep him in line. Every time she thought of Tommy lying there with tubes and wires sticking out everywhere a lump choked her throat. His body was already battered from the booze. He wasn’t strong enough to fight this. Then there was Malcolm and Jean’s funeral to organise. Arlene would have to take care of that, wouldn’t she? There was nobody el
se. Gordon certainly couldn’t do it.

  It was no use; Arlene wouldn’t be able to sleep if she went home. She got out and locked up her car and headed back inside the house to wait for her son. Once inside she spotted Gordon’s laptop sitting on the coffee table.

  ‘Gordon, are you here?’ she called out into the empty house and frowned. Gordon never left his laptop out, not even in his room. She grabbed it and flipped open the lid. She was desperate. His privacy wasn’t as important to her as finding him. Her mind went blank. No possible passwords sprung to mind. She wondered if she even knew her son at all.

  Arlene had only closed her eyes for a minute. The last time she remembered checking the clock on the fireplace was 1 a.m.; Gordon still wasn’t home. She rubbed sleep from her eyes. The clock now read 5.30 a.m.

  Arlene sat up and yawned. She stared at the laptop again. If only she could access it. The answers must be in there. She grabbed her phone – still no messages. She got up and headed straight up to Gordon’s room. The door was wide open but his bed had not been slept in and the curtains were still open from yesterday. She hit Gordon’s number and listened to it ring his trademark six times before going to voicemail.

  ‘Come on – pick up,’ she urged.

  Arlene hung up, thudded down the stairs and pressed the kettle on. She looked in the cupboard for the coffee. Typical, she thought. Tommy was out of it as usual. She checked the tea caddy and found one solitary tea bag stuck to the bottom of the tin. She needed a cuppa so she prised the precious bag out and rinsed a mug from the draining board to use – she couldn’t guarantee how well it had been washed or indeed if any soap had been involved. Arlene added the last thimbleful of milk from the fridge into her mug and sipped the hot, soothing liquid. Definitely supermarket own brand but drinkable. She would go and get a few bits in for them later. Tommy would be in no fit state to go shopping for a while. She decided then that moving back in was probably for the best too. Her boys needed her. At least she knew where Tommy was even if it was horrible to think of him there.

  A text made her jump and she scrambled to check her phone.

  ‘Shit,’ she muttered and threw it onto the worktop. Damn Vodafone. ‘I don’t want to bloody upgrade. I want to know where my son is.’

  44

  When Jessie got home the previous night she had questioned exactly what she and Dylan had achieved by going to see the Fergusons’ burnt-out property. They hadn’t learned anything new but they now had the suspected murder weapon. She hoped forensics would come back to her with a match to the murder weapon quickly. If Rachel could be persuaded to confess that would make everything much simpler. On the phone late last night, Kenny had made it clear to Jessie that he wanted no stone left unturned in her pursuit of the person who had set fire to his home. He reminded her that they were victims. She assured him she understood perfectly.

  ‘Detective Inspector, this lady says she needs to speak to you urgently.’

  Jessie turned her head from the crime-scene photos of Jean and Malcolm Angus on the whiteboard to see an anxious Arlene Angus being directed towards her. She quickly closed a folder on the desk and stood up to open her office door wide.

  ‘Hello, Arlene. What can I do for you?’ The look on Arlene’s face troubled her. ‘Is it Tommy?’

  Arlene shook her head. ‘No, Tommy’s OK – well, as OK as he can be for now.’ She tried to smile. ‘No, it’s Gordon. He didn’t come home last night.’

  ‘OK, come on in and have a wee seat. When did you last speak to your son?’

  Arlene pulled a tissue from her bag to wipe her nose. ‘I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to stop crying. Tommy used to complain I was overemotional.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Jessie told her. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea or coffee maybe?’

  Arlene nodded. ‘Coffee would be great.’

  Jessie was about to leave her office and put the kettle on until she intercepted Dylan who had just arrived.

  ‘Morning, Jess,’ he said, beaming.

  ‘Good morning, Dylan. Listen, could you make me a coffee and get one for Arlene Angus while you’re there?’

  ‘Arlene Angus,’ he whispered.

  Jessie answered with a simple nod and made her way back.

  ‘Dylan is going to bring our coffees in,’ Jessie told her.

  ‘He’s well trained.’ Arlene tried to smile.

  Jessie knew she shouldn’t grin but couldn’t help it. ‘Aye, something like that, Arlene.’

  After bringing in a tray of mugs and the packet of custard creams he’d found at the back of the cupboard, Dylan left and Arlene was free to express her fears to Jessie.

  ‘Gordon is a vulnerable adult, Detective. You must agree with me on that surely.’

  Jessie wasn’t exactly sure how vulnerable he was. He’d managed to get hold of plenty of his grandparents’ money no problem. He was clearly extremely intelligent. But his mum was worried and she knew Gordon better than anyone else.

  ‘When did you last see or speak to him?’

  ‘Last night at the hospital. He said he was going straight home. I wanted to spend a little bit more time with Tommy, you know, alone.’ She swallowed back the tears that threatened to erupt again.

  ‘How is Tommy?’

  ‘He’s getting there. There was a small bleed they had to drain but the operation went well, they said, so it’s just a waiting game now, I suppose.’ Arlene sniffed and wiped her face again. ‘We won’t know until they bring him out of the induced coma.’

  Jessie sipped her coffee and allowed Arlene to continue. The woman looked like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  ‘I’ve left five messages for Gordon. It’s not like him to ignore them. He doesn’t like his phone to clog up with them.’ Arlene gave a small wry chuckle. ‘It’s part of his condition. He needs things neat and tidy.’ She sank half of her cup of coffee in two gulps. ‘I’m sorry; I really needed that. Tommy was out, as usual.’

  ‘I can get you another one if you need it.’

  ‘No, no, don’t worry. You’ve more important things to do than look after me.’

  Jessie felt sorry for the woman who was now sobbing on the chair across from her.

  ‘Look at the state of me. You must think I’m pathetic,’ Arlene said, wiping tears from her eyes.

  ‘Don’t be daft; you’re not pathetic at all and don’t worry. I’ll get a search under way for Gordon.’ Jessie didn’t add that she suspected Gordon of setting a fire.

  ‘You’ll need a recent photo.’ Arlene scrolled through the pictures on her phone.

  ‘No, it’s OK – we have a photo of Gordon.’

  Arlene’s head snapped up. ‘Why do you have a photo of my son?’

  ‘OK, please calm down, Mrs Angus and I’ll explain.’

  Arlene interrupted before Jessie could go any further.

  ‘I think the fact that the police have a photo of my son is a good excuse to be anything but calm, don’t you, Detective?’

  Jessie sensed the anger rise in Arlene’s tone.

  ‘Arlene, there’s no need to get worked up—’

  ‘Worked up? Oh, you’ve no idea what worked up is! Do you have kids, Detective?’

  Jessie hated this question more than any other. What she really wanted to do was scream, ‘Yes, I had a son but he was killed!’ Instead she chose the easy answer every time.

  Jessie shook her head. ‘No, I don’t.’

  ‘Well, you have no right to lecture me about anything.’

  Jessie raised her hands. ‘You’re right, but if you’ll just let me explain—’

  Jessie watched Arlene’s anger wither as quickly as it had developed. The woman clearly had a temper.

  ‘Gordon’s behaviour up at the farmhouse was…’ Jessie searched for a word that would cause the least offence.

  ‘Odd?’ Arlene suggested. ‘Weird, mental, freaky. I’ve heard them all.’

  ‘I was about to say it gave me cause for concern.’ Jessie was pleased she’d
found such a diplomatic answer. ‘Then he walked out and disappeared just as Tommy lashed out at our forensic pathologist.’

  Arlene was visibly shocked and covered her cheeks with both hands. ‘I’m so sorry. Is he OK?’

  ‘Yes, it was just a scratch,’ Jessie reassured her.

  ‘But you thought Gordon might have done it. Murdered his grandparents, I mean.’

  Jessie chose her next words very carefully.

  ‘His behaviour was suspicious, I have to admit.’

  ‘What was he doing?’

  Jessie tried to discourage her. ‘I’m not sure that’s really relevant.’

  ‘Please tell me,’ Arlene pleaded.

  Jessie looked into Arlene’s eyes – the eyes of a desperate mother who was scared to death that something had happened to her son. Her flesh and blood. Arlene had already seen her husband close to death. She was clinging to anything Jessie offered her.

  ‘He was eating a sandwich. Right next to Malcolm’s body. And his demeanour was almost happy – as if he was distanced emotionally from what had happened to his grandparents.’ Jessie hated saying that. It sounded so horrible and cold. Arlene didn’t look surprised.

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I appreciate your honesty – without recoiling in horror, that is. I’ve had that so many times over the years.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  The two women sat in silence until Arlene’s phone rang, startling them both.

  ‘Gordon, where have you been?’

  Jessie’s eyes widened as she listened.

  ‘Slow down; I can’t understand what you’re saying,’ Arlene shouted down the phone. ‘Gordon, are you still there? Gordon?’

  Jessie’s alarm increased the more urgent Arlene’s voice became.

  ‘Gordon,’ she cried out again. ‘Gordon, are you still there?’