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

by Kerry Watts

  Arlene pulled the phone away from her ear.

  ‘Where is he?’ Jessie urged.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Did he say anything?’

  Arlene clasped her hand over her mouth and paced back and forth. ‘Oh God, oh God, what if he’s hurt?’

  Dylan became aware of the raised voices and rushed to Jessie’s office.

  ‘Is everything all right in here?’ he shouted.

  Jessie could only shrug. She had no idea what had upset Arlene like that, but she wasn’t about to find out any time soon as Arlene grabbed her bag and sprinted away from them.

  ‘You want me to go after her?’ Dylan asked.

  Jessie leaned her head back and peered out of her window to see which car Arlene got in. She scribbled down her registration number then handed the paper to him. ‘No, leave her. Give that to the boys in traffic. Tell them to see where she’s gone but not to approach for now. I just want to see what she’s up to.’

  45

  ‘Gordon, what have you done?’ Arlene’s shock was plain to see, despite how hard she tried to hide it from him. ‘Come here, son.’ She leaned forward to pull him into her arms. It was a reflex action she couldn’t stop.

  Gordon stepped back – his reflex action. Gordon’s retreat was a gentle reminder of the emotional distance that would always be between them. Instead Arlene peeled her arms out of her jacket and draped it loosely around Gordon’s shoulders to stop his shivering. He looked like he’d seen a ghost, his eyes wide and staring.

  Arlene held out her hand and Gordon walked on ahead of her towards her car. Mother and son drove in silence. Arlene was forced to swallow down the screams that were stalking her throat. They built from the heart of her stomach. It was obvious what he’d done – she could smell it on him. She thought he’d stopped starting fires long ago.

  The blue light of the police car behind her was joined by the short blink of the siren. The road wasn’t busy. He would be able to pass easily but Arlene pulled in anyway. They couldn’t possibly suspect her of anything.

  Arlene’s attempt at a confident smile failed miserably and she prayed the young officer couldn’t see her legs trembling.

  ‘Hello, Officer,’ she said. ‘What’s the problem? I don’t think I was speeding, was I?’

  The tall, blonde traffic officer bent down and glanced past Arlene and her heart sank. That detective had them follow me. The realisation slammed into Arlene and it hurt. She felt guilty that she’d effectively led the police to her son.

  ‘Would you mind stepping out of the car and following me, madam?’ He looked back across at Gordon, whose pale piercing eyes peered out from under his long black fringe.

  ‘Why?’ Gordon asked.

  ‘Could you just please switch off your engine and step out of the vehicle?’

  Arlene gripped the steering wheel until she saw the whites of her knuckles stare up at her.

  No, you’re not taking my son.

  She glanced at Gordon now playing on his phone then slammed her car into reverse and left the young officer standing at the side of the road, desperately calling for help into his radio.

  What the hell have I done? She feared she’d just made the biggest mistake of her life. Her heart raced but Gordon remained emotionless in the passenger seat checking his Facebook account. Arlene’s heart couldn’t beat any faster if it tried, she feared. She felt sick to her stomach. What the hell had she just done?

  46

  Kenny Ferguson handed his wife a cup of strong tea. He knew she hadn’t slept much at all last night. Neither had he. He’d heard her get up a couple of times. He’d heard her crying too. Kenny had a meeting today that he couldn’t put off, but he hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell Rachel yet. The little place the police had put them up in wasn’t too bad but it wasn’t home.

  ‘Thank you,’ Rachel said, her eyes almost glued shut. She yawned.

  ‘Why don’t you have another forty winks, sweetheart? You look exhausted.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Rachel tried to smile. ‘You don’t look that brilliant yourself.’

  Kenny perched his hefty frame on the edge of the double bed, which felt more like a single compared to his extra king size back at home. The one he used to own that was. It was probably just ashes now. The flames must have taken hold quickly to have caused such devastation in that relatively short time. He reached out and pressed Rachel’s fringe out of her eyes. She’d looked so scared when she’d walked out of that police station. Thank God she wasn’t remanded in custody. Kenny was terrified of what that would do to her.

  Rachel allowed his fingers to stroke her forehead. She closed her eyes again. It felt good, good to have human contact. They lived such separate lives these days and until now that had suited Rachel fine. But she needed Kenny. She was scared – terrified they would find her guilty and lock her up. For good this time.

  ‘Listen, I have to pop out for a bit this morning.’

  Rachel sat bolt upright on hearing his comment.

  ‘What do you mean you have to pop out? We have so much to sort out. The insurance and the—’

  Kenny grabbed hold of her hands.

  ‘We can’t do anything about the insurance until the investigation is complete. It was probably arson, sweetheart.’

  Rachel had tried to put that thought out of her head. It was a simple accident, she’d tried to convince herself.

  ‘But where do you have to be that’s so important? What about me?’ Rachel cried.

  Kenny stood and started to walk away. Rachel attempted to grab hold of his wrist but missed and fell forward onto the bed.

  ‘Kenny,’ she called after him. ‘Answer me.’

  Kenny Ferguson closed the bathroom door on his wife’s pleas, then closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the bathroom door. He inhaled a huge breath as he listened to her continue to call out for him then exhaled slowly through the hand that was covering his mouth to stifle the scream that wanted to erupt violently from his lips.

  47

  1991

  Rachel ignored her calls for the fourth time. There was no way she was getting up out of this bed, let alone dressing and getting on that school bus. No way in hell that was happening. She had only been back at school for a week before she’d decided enough was enough. School had nothing to offer her. Not after what she’d been through. She struggled to get her daughter’s beautiful face out of her mind. The way she smelled; her soft skin and sweet baby breath. She’d called her daughter Angela, after her own mum. She wondered what her mum would say about being a grandmother. Rachel had been informed by social services that her new family would probably want to call her something else but she would always be Angela to her.

  ‘Rachel, I’m not going to tell you again,’ the voice boomed at her from the bottom of the stairs. ‘Hurry up or you’ll miss the bus.’

  ‘Good,’ Rachel muttered and pulled the duvet back over her head. Then the footsteps banged up the stairs before the room door burst open and the duvet was abruptly pulled back.

  ‘I asked you to get up,’ her foster mum pleaded. ‘Now I’m telling you – come on.’

  Rachel tugged her nightshirt over her legs and turned to face the wall. ‘I’m not feeling well.’

  ‘What’s up, pet?’

  ‘My stomach hurts. Ladies’ trouble.’

  Her foster mother sighed. Rachel wasn’t for shifting. She’d give the counsellor a call. See if she could fit her in today. She gently covered her back over with the duvet. Rachel grabbed it and enveloped herself back in its warmth then smiled.

  ‘I’ll go and give the school a call. I’ll bring you up some toast and orange juice in a bit.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Rachel answered from deep inside her duvet cocoon. A little guilt bubbled in her stomach where she’d told her the pain was.

  Rachel was glad to hear the footsteps retreat but before she could doze off she heard a voice down the hall, the words echoing up to her room. Great, she sighed. Another t
alking session.

  Rachel said nothing the whole ride to the office. These appointments were pointless. She leaned her head against the passenger-side window as the ten-year-old Ford Escort rumbled up the steep hill towards the psychiatric hospital and parked in the grounds of the Children’s and Adolescents’ Mental Health Service building. The apple trees outside the front door were heavy with fruit this time of year, some branches bowed with the weight. They’d said Rachel could help herself last time, which she did. She stuffed half a dozen in her bag for her and Ella to scoff later too.

  ‘Right, come on then.’ Her foster mum smiled, the crow’s feet around her soft blue eyes crinkling as she spoke.

  Rachel sulked as she got out of the car and pulled her Bon Jovi T-shirt further down to cover her bum, which she felt was way too big now.

  Her foster mother gave her name to the slim, pretty blonde receptionist who looked to Rachel like that supermodel Linda Evangelista with her big eyes and skinny frame.

  ‘Take a seat, Dr Carr will be with you in a minute.’

  Rachel forced a smile before she sat down next to the huge bucket of Lego bricks and table full of Beano and Dandy magazines. Classical music piped from a speaker mounted high in the corner of the room, which was once a drawing room in the Victorian-era building. The ceilings were so high Rachel wondered where they kept the ladder they needed for changing the CD every time.

  ‘Hello.’ The doctor beamed as she approached. ‘Come on through.’

  Rachel sighed and walked with her shoulders drooping into the psychologist’s bright, airy consulting room. The walls of the room were painted a pale blue with light pink butterflies stencilled over it. Even the lampshade had butterflies on it. Rachel knew Ella would love this décor. She loved pastels and pinks. But flamingos were her favourite. Rachel painted on that smile again as she flopped down on the pink-and-white polka-dot beanbag.

  ‘It’s been a couple of weeks since I last spoke to you,’ Dr Carr began. ‘How are things?’

  ‘Don’t know,’ Rachel said and shrugged without looking up from picking at her leather bracelet.

  ‘How’s school?’ Dr Carr persisted. ‘I hear you’ve not been feeling up to going lately. Has something happened?’

  Has something happened? Rachel wanted to scream. Apart from my baby being stolen from me, not much.

  Instead she shrugged. ‘Just not been feeling great.’

  ‘Do you feel like telling me how you feel? Can you describe it?’

  Rachel picked at the frayed edge of the bracelet while she tried to think of a way to describe her feelings. She could hear the music from the waiting room drift into the room. She sighed then answered without looking at the doctor.

  ‘Empty,’ she said. ‘I feel empty.’

  ‘What does empty feel like?’

  Rachel finally stared at Dr Carr and shrugged at her response. ‘I dunno. You tell me.’

  Dr Carr smiled a little. ‘I can’t tell you how you feel. Only you know that.’

  So many flipping questions. Rachel stood up from the beanbag and clutched the dull ache that was growing in her stomach. Period – great. She moved closer to the window behind Dr Carr’s chair.

  ‘The trees look lovely when they’re so heavy with fruit, don’t they?’ the doctor commented as she joined Rachel.

  ‘But they’ll soon be empty too, won’t they?’

  48

  Rachel opened the door to find the officer standing on the doorstep next to a welcome familiar face. One of Kenny’s drivers – the first female driver in the company’s history.

  ‘It’s fine, Officer, but thank you.’

  Rachel ushered Julia Dean inside the flat; she’d been informed an unauthorised person had tried to get access to her, and while she’d been a little taken aback when she’d been told who it was, she was pleased to see her anyway.

  ‘I’m sorry to just turn up like this but when Caroline told me what happened and where you were I wanted to see if there was anything I could do.’

  Rachel wasn’t surprised to hear either that Caroline had told her or that Julia wanted to help.

  ‘No, I’m delighted to see you, to be honest.’ Rachel tidied away the dinner dishes. ‘Excuse the mess.’

  Julia looked at the few plates lining the worktop and smiled. ‘Listen, I hope you won’t be offended but I’ve taken the liberty of putting a few bits together for you since your things are—’ She stopped. ‘Well, you know, I just thought you might need some bits.’ She held out the carrier bag for Rachel. ‘It’s not much.’

  Rachel took the bag and glanced inside. ‘That was so thoughtful of you. Thank you.’ She turned to switch the kettle on. ‘You’ll stay for coffee? Decaf, I promise.’

  Julia wanted nothing more than to stay but couldn’t tell Rachel that.

  She nodded as she sat down on one of the kitchen chairs. Her eyes narrowed at the papers in front of her before Rachel quickly tidied them away. ‘Sure, that would be nice.’

  Julia blushed at the text that buzzed. She couldn’t answer his message while she was here. The irony of that wasn’t lost on her.

  ‘Is everything OK?’ Rachel asked as she laid a cup of coffee in front of her guest then pulled the milk from the fridge. ‘Do you like milk and sugar?’

  ‘Just milk, thanks.’ Julia stuffed her phone deep into the pocket of her khaki cargo trousers and crossed her legs. ‘This is a nice little flat,’ she commented in order to change the subject.

  Rachel laid the milk carton down on the table then sat down. ‘It could be worse.’ She sighed.

  Julia sipped the coffee then licked her lips. ‘Have you got any idea about how the fire started?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘The horses and the dogs were fine, though. That’s the most important thing.’

  Rachel seemed very calm for a woman accused of a double murder, Julia decided. Julia’s ringtone sounded from her pocket and she watched a warm smile spread across Rachel’s lips.

  ‘He’s persistent,’ Rachel commented. She obviously thought it was a boyfriend.

  Her comment made Julia smile in response. ‘You could say that,’ she admitted and retrieved the phone and switched it to silent.

  ‘Have you known him long?’

  ‘Erm.’ Julia avoided Rachel’s emerald-green eyes this time. ‘Kind of, I guess.’

  Rachel grinned. ‘That’s nice. I’m happy for you.’

  Julia shook her head. ‘It’s not like that. We’re— It’s not what you think.’

  Rachel lifted up her hand to wave away her protest. ‘Don’t be embarrassed.’

  ‘Really, it’s not what you think,’ Julia insisted. ‘He’s not a boyfriend.’

  The room started to feel very small to Julia suddenly. She feared she would say something or give something away. The time wasn’t right – not yet.

  ‘I’m sorry, it’s none of my business,’ Rachel replied and stood to pour water from the kettle into her mug. ‘It was just nice to talk about something other than—’ She stopped herself before the tears erupted.

  Julia watched her tug a tissue from her sleeve to wipe her nose and wanted to hug her and tell her it was going to be fine, but the truth was she couldn’t, could she? Julia didn’t know. She couldn’t see into the future.

  ‘I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to upset you,’ Julia commented. That was the only thing she felt able to say. ‘I’ll leave you in peace; you must have things to organise.’ She stood up from the table and handed Rachel her mug. ‘Thanks for the drink.’

  Rachel reached out and took the half-drunk cup of coffee from her. ‘You’re welcome.’

  Julia grabbed her jacket from the back of the chair and scratched at her cropped brown hair. She could have kicked herself for being unable to find something more useful to say. She’d rehearsed the words so much on the way over there.

  She waved to Rachel and stood briefly to see the door close after her. She nodded to the police officer in his patrol car and lifted her helmet from the motorb
ike she’d parked not far from him. Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She pulled it out to look at the caller ID and smiled. Rachel was right. He was persistent and she didn’t blame him.

  49

  Jessie had literally just opened the front door and called out to Ben when her phone rang. She kicked off her boots, switched on the hall light and grabbed the short note Ben had left on her hall table as Smokey curled his body around her legs. She was disappointed but understood completely. Murder doesn’t stop in Edinburgh either just because it’s Christmas. He didn’t go into details but being a forensic pathologist meant Ben was needed elsewhere. She got the impression it was a big one, though. She picked her phone out from deep in her coat pocket and frowned. She’d just left the station fifteen minutes ago.

  ‘DI Blake,’ she answered and listened in horror. ‘You are kidding me? Yes, thanks for letting me know.’

  It didn’t surprise her to hear of the officer’s description of the smell that filled Arlene’s car as he’d leaned in. The stench of petrol was thick, he explained. Of course it was Gordon. But why?

  Jessie considered slipping her feet right back into her boots and heading straight back to the station. She’d sent Dylan home for the night. He should be with his kids. She put down her phone, pressed the switch on the kettle down and walked through to her bedroom.

  ‘What is it, Smokey?’ She reached down for the cat, the hair on his neck standing on end and his back arched. ‘You silly thing, what are you doing?’ She lifted him into her arms and held him close so he could nuzzle his face into her cheek. When he started purring she gave him one simple kiss on his forehead and allowed him to leap from her arms, landing on her bed before jumping down and running from her room. She was about to open her wardrobe for a clean shirt when her phone buzzed again from the hall table.