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

by Kerry Watts

  It was no use. She might as well be back at the station. She wouldn’t sleep now. Not with all this going on. This investigation was consuming her thoughts twenty-four hours a day but Jessie didn’t mind, not really. Malcolm and Jean Angus deserved nothing less than her one hundred per cent attention.

  Jessie slipped her feet back into her boots and grabbed for her keys then rushed back down to her car.

  Dan finally allowed himself to breathe after having to abort his mission so quickly. That was close. He hadn’t expected Jessie home so soon. He was sure she was busy at the station when he’d arrived at her flat. Getting in through the back-bedroom window was so much easier than he’d anticipated. That had been a pleasant surprise. All he wanted was to get to know her better: this new Jessie. This confident woman she’d become. He liked her. All he was going to do was look. He wouldn’t have taken anything. That wouldn’t have been right.

  50

  ‘Dylan, what are you doing here?’ Jessie asked as she slung her coat and scarf onto the back of her chair.

  ‘Och, I thought you needed me here.’

  His answer might have been one sentence but Jessie got the feeling there was more to it.

  ‘Everything OK?’

  ‘What? Yes, sure, of course. Everything’s fine. What makes you say that?’

  Dylan’s defensive posture troubled her but it was none of her concern. She didn’t want him in her business so she should stay well out of his.

  ‘Arlene and Gordon are, or at least were, in the wind albeit briefly. The traffic officer who stopped her car said there was a strong smell of petrol coming from one or both of the occupants. Now, Arlene was with me for a period of time but that doesn’t rule her out completely as the person who started the fire at the Ferguson property.’

  ‘Why, though, boss? What did she have to gain?’

  ‘I don’t know and sure, Gordon looks more like our arsonist to me.’

  Dylan nodded at Jessie’s suggestion. ‘Absolutely. Psychopath behaviour, isn’t it? Do you think he’s done it before – started fires, I mean?’

  Jessie could only shrug. She didn’t have any evidence of that but there was so much she didn’t know about Gordon Angus. Sure, the evidence all pointed to Rachel Ferguson having murdered her neighbours but Jessie’s conversation with Arlene Angus had contained far more than mere words. Both detectives stared at each other.

  ‘Is he capable of murder?’ Dylan suggested.

  Jessie wanted to scream, ‘Hell yes,’ but resisted. They need evidence to convict a killer and right then the evidence conveniently pointed in Rachel Ferguson’s direction.

  Jessie opened the text that buzzed into her phone.

  ‘Arlene’s car has been located abandoned close to Kinnoull Hill.’

  ‘Christ,’ Dylan said. ‘You reckon they’re going to jump?’

  ‘I wish I knew. There’s a team heading up there. Nothing obvious. We don’t want to spook them into doing something daft.’

  ‘Gordon’s clever, Jessie. He’ll know that car being there will send you after them.’

  Jessie listened intently. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I think they’ve parked up there to put us off the scent of their real location. I think they’re headed back to Perth.’

  ‘The hospital!’ Jessie exclaimed.

  51

  1991

  Dear David,

  I hope that you’re doing OK. I’m not sure what I want to say to you but it feels like I might burst without you. They’ve told me all sorts of horrible things about you. You know I don’t believe them. I promise. I have to see this doctor to talk about my feelings but it’s you I want to talk to, not them. I still miss you and our daughter. One day we’ll be a family. I know that with all my heart. I’ve been counting the days until I can see you again. Until I can be in your arms again. I hope that you’ve been getting these letters. I know you’re not allowed to contact me in response. My social worker explained that ages ago. It’s so unfair. I’m out here and you’re in there. They can’t keep us apart forever. Just let them try.

  Anyway, I have to go for now.

  Love you

  Alice x

  Rachel’s foster mother exhaled slowly again. The fact she’d signed the letter as Alice made the discovery even worse. The girl was clearly unwilling to accept David had abused her. She was seething that she hadn’t been told that her foster daughter had been trying to send letters to David since their baby was born. Every one of the letters had been intercepted, thankfully.

  ‘How long has this been going on?’ She lifted the single sheet of writing paper close to Rachel’s cheek.

  Rachel wanted to scream. It was none of her business. Hadn’t they already stolen their baby from them? What was the harm in a few letters?

  ‘It’s none of your business!’ she blasted and tried to barge past until the bedroom door was slammed shut to stop her leaving the room.

  ‘You’re going nowhere until we talk about this.’

  ‘What is there to talk about? I’m writing letters to the man I love.’

  ‘Rachel.’ Her foster mother lowered her voice. ‘We’ve talked about this, sweetheart.’

  ‘No!’ Rachel roared in her face. ‘You’ve talked about it. I was just supposed to listen and nod like a good little girl.’ She stormed back past her and slumped onto her bed in a sulk. ‘Well, I’m not a little girl. I haven’t been for a very long time.’

  Her foster mother perched on the edge of the bed. Rachel was proving to be a hard nut to crack. The information she’d been given was that she was a mixed-up teenager who had been manipulated and groomed since she was thirteen by a man who’d coerced her into committing a horrible crime. But Rachel really seemed to love this man. Her idea that he loved her was fixed and unshakeable. She was still infatuated with him. He continued to have some kind of hold over her even today; all these months later.

  ‘I know you feel all grown up,’ she tackled her gently, ‘but there are things you don’t understand, sweetheart. What David did to you…’

  ‘David didn’t do anything to me.’ Rachel’s frustration increased. ‘I wanted to do what we did. Don’t you get it? Does nobody get it?’ She slammed her fist into the mattress. ‘We love each other!’ she roared.

  Her foster mother was helpless to stop her body from falling backwards onto the floor when Rachel slammed into her. She struggled to catch her breath, winded by the force. Stunned by her outburst.

  ‘Rachel, get back here.’

  Rachel had to run. She was terrified by what she’d done, not to mention what she’d wanted to do. The rage she’d felt inside the day she’d murdered her grandparents had returned. She had to get out of there.

  ‘David,’ she whimpered and rubbed stinging hot tears from her cheeks as she ran.

  52

  Arlene Angus was sitting on one of the black plastic chairs next to Tommy’s bed when Jessie and Dylan arrived. Jessie stared past her slumped figure but there was no sign of Gordon.

  ‘He’s not here,’ Arlene informed her without looking up. Instead she reached for Tommy’s hand and kissed it then rubbed the single tear that had dripped onto the tip of her nose.

  Jessie nodded to Dylan to leave them alone.

  ‘Sure,’ he whispered and moved away from the door to the ICU. He lifted his phone from his pocket to read a text while he walked. He sighed and stuffed it away without answering.

  ‘Where is he, Arlene?’ Jessie pulled up a chair next to her and sat down, keeping her voice low out of respect for the other patients in the bay.

  ‘He’s safe,’ Arlene informed her without looking at her.

  ‘Safe from what?’

  ‘Everything,’ she whispered.

  Jessie saw the pain in Arlene’s face. The straight-talking approach wasn’t going to work here. She opted for a subtler way to get through to her. ‘You’re a good mum.’ Jessie spoke gently; allowing her words to filter slowly through.

  This statement made Arlene lo
ok up. Jessie’s hunch had been right.

  ‘Am I?’ Arlene responded.

  Jessie nodded. ‘You love Gordon and you want to protect him. Nobody can blame you for that.’

  ‘I do, I really do.’

  ‘He’s very lucky to have you,’ Jessie added and dropped her hand on Arlene’s. ‘Very lucky.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Jessie allowed the silence to settle between them. What she’d said wasn’t a lie. Gordon was damn lucky. Everything he’d ever done must have been fixed by his mum. She figured Arlene had covered up so much for him. She could tell Arlene thought her son had murdered his grandparents and that it terrified her more than anything he’d ever done before.

  ‘Where is he?’ Jessie whispered. ‘I promise I’ll take care of him.’

  Arlene stared then snatched her hand back from her. ‘You couldn’t possibly understand.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Detective Inspector.’ Arlene’s mood changed in an instant. ‘I have nothing further to say to you. Now, if you don’t mind, I want to spend time with my husband. Tommy needs to rest.’

  Jessie looked back at the ICU doorway and waved Dylan inside. She got up to walk away to the sound of Dylan’s voice. It was the only way. Arlene was trying to obstruct Jessie’s investigation into Gordon’s involvement at the very least – but goodness knows what else she’d done to protect her son. Dylan moved forward and took hold of Arlene’s arm.

  ‘Arlene Angus, you are under arrest for attempting to defeat the ends of justice.’

  53

  Rachel had been walking for so long she’d lost track of time. Slipping away from the officer who’d been posted outside their door – mainly for her and Kenny’s protection – was easier than she’d anticipated although it had been explained she wasn’t under house arrest. It just felt like it. The thought of having to explain to him where she was going and why irked her. She was on bail. They hadn’t convicted her yet; Rachel was still a free woman for now. Kenny hadn’t told her where he was going and she’d pleaded with him not to go. Couldn’t he see she was struggling? Her whole world had been turned upside down – again. This time she’d lost everything she’d worked so hard for all these years. Her beautiful home. What if they’d been inside? Was it an attempt to murder her? Revenge perhaps.

  The huge moon lit up the night sky as she wandered. She tightened her thick down jacket around her against the cold night air. She had no idea where she was going. So many thoughts fought for space inside her clouded mind that she struggled to focus on what to do next. There was so much work to do to fix their home but Kenny had told her the police would want to finish their investigation first. The structural engineer would have to come in to make the property safe. Would they even be able to live there again? What if they said it had to be torn down?

  Noise from the pub on South Street caught her attention. She squeezed her purse in her pocket and pulled open the door. The noise of laughter smacked her in the face and it felt good; a distraction from the fear that was growing inside her. The smell of beer and floral notes from the perfume that filled the air made her smile.

  ‘What can I get you?’

  The lad behind the bar looked about twelve to Rachel as he smiled, his straight white teeth glinting in the low lighting of the bar.

  ‘I’ll take a glass of red wine, please,’ she said. ‘What kind of crisps have you got?’

  He stood back and showed her the selection behind him then checked his watch. ‘Kitchen shuts in half an hour if you’re looking for something hot.’

  Rachel became aware of the rumbling in her stomach. ‘I’d love a burger.’

  ‘You want fries with it?’

  Rachel smiled and screwed up her nose. ‘Yes, please. That would be lovely.’

  ‘Coming right up.’ The young bar man turned to place her order with the kitchen before handing her a tall glass of red wine.

  ‘Thank you.’ Rachel slipped out of her coat and laid it across the stool next to her. The bar was lovely and hot compared to the freezing temperatures outside. The red wine, slipping smoothly down her throat, filled her body with warmth. It was just what she needed.

  She became aware of a television blinking at the far end of the bar, subtitles instead of sound for patrons who wanted to watch the 10 p.m. news. She was aghast to see the BBC Scotland reporter she recognised standing close to her home. Rachel was shocked to find the fire at her home newsworthy until the words possible connection to the senseless murder of elderly couple Malcolm and Jean Angus followed by person of interest helping police with their enquiries. No more details at this stage slid across the bottom of the screen.

  A sudden flush of heat enveloped her followed by a quick, freezing chill that made her shiver. She glanced nervously around the bar area, terrified someone had seen her reaction and figured out that she was their ‘person of interest’. Perhaps they could even see who Rachel really was? She had to really concentrate on her breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Focus your eyes on a central point. That’s what she’d been taught.

  One of the antique mahogany pillars at the end of the bar came into view and Rachel’s eyes alighted on it while her heart thudded. In. Out. In. Out.

  That’s it; you can do it. Rachel could hear a familiar voice inside her head. A voice she hadn’t heard for a very long time. Ella. Rachel’s panic attacks began in her teenage years and it was her roommate Ella who’d been the soothing voice that could calm a storm. Ella. Rachel hadn’t thought of her for a long time. Ella had left the foster home to go off to university and the two friends had barely kept in touch. Last Rachel heard she was a doctor living in East Kilbride with her wife and a son from a disastrous marriage to a banker in Edinburgh. Despite their close friendship, Ella had never confided in Rachel what had happened to her prior to the foster home and Rachel had respected her privacy. She had enough on her own plate anyway.

  ‘Here you go.’ The bartender startled her when he handed her a plate stacked high with a huge burger roll filled with lettuce and assorted other toppings. The bowl of fries to accompany it looked like it was there to feed a family of four and some. ‘Can I get you any sauces or salt or pepper?’ He smiled and held her gaze. His eyes were kind. Rachel didn’t know why that thought popped into her head.

  ‘Em, no, no, thank you – I’m fine,’ she answered. ‘Looks delicious.’

  ‘Enjoy.’

  Rachel nodded before realising her panic had passed. Nobody knew who she was. She was just another stranger, sitting in a bar, eating a burger. Rachel felt anonymous and she loved it.

  Her ringtone played quietly in her jeans pocket and the vibration made her jump. It was Kenny.

  ‘Hi, honey,’ Rachel answered with a mouthful of hot, salty fries. She listened to his concerns and thought he was sweet but she felt freer than she had for a considerably long time. She had no intention of heading home yet.

  54

  Arlene’s solicitor had managed to persuade a reluctant Jessie that keeping Arlene locked up would do more harm than good. Having her outside where Gordon could contact his mother was a much better idea, didn’t she agree? Gordon was the main suspect in the arson attack on the Ferguson property. Didn’t she want to use the best chance they had of catching him before he did something worse? The solicitor’s words rung in Jessie’s ears as she dried her hands in the station bathroom. He was right; of course he was. Keeping Arlene locked up served no real purpose other than making Jessie feel better after being treated like a fool.

  ‘Do you need me for anything else, boss?’ Dylan appeared from around the corner from the bathroom.

  ‘No, you get off home to those gorgeous kids.’ Jessie began to walk past until she became aware that Dylan hadn’t moved. ‘Is everything OK?’

  ‘Yes, sure.’ He started to move off. ‘See you in the morning.’

  Jessie yawned as she lifted a hand to wave him off. She moved to the whiteboard and removed the lid from her marker, then drew a circle
around the photo of the smiling couple. Taken on a recent anniversary, she’d been told. She drew a line from them and wrote the name Rachel Ferguson and made a list of reasons to believe her guilty of their murder. Her hair. Her boot print. Her motive. Her history. Sure, the evidence was pushing her towards Rachel’s guilt, but the nagging doubt that it was a little too convenient kept creeping into the back of Jessie’s mind. ‘Trust your gut,’ she’d been told by her first guv’nor and he was usually right.

  Gordon starting fires. Interest in serial killers. His obsession with Rachel and her real identity. In her crime. Psychopath. The way he sat so coolly next to his grandfather’s dead body.

  She added a line on the opposite side of the smiling couple’s face and wrote their grandson’s name. The thought that he’d done it seemed worse somehow. She’d arranged a team to keep an eye on Arlene’s movements to see if Gordon got in touch. Her hand lingered over the board until she drew the third line.

  The couple’s son, Tommy Angus. As pathetic a sight as he was now, that didn’t stop the possibility of him committing an unthinkable crime in order to stop himself being disinherited. She wrote Tommy’s name with the words ‘alcoholic’ and ‘will’ underneath.

  Jessie’s head spun with the trio of possibilities. She rubbed her eyes and switched off the lamp on her desk and yawned again. A nice cold glass of Chardonnay had her name written all over it tonight.

  Jessie locked up her Fiesta and walked the short distance to the entrance to her block of flats. Out of the darkness a figure moved slowly towards her.

  ‘Jesus, you scared the life out of me.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Dylan said. ‘I didn’t know where else to go.’

  Jessie’s shoulders drooped at the crestfallen look on her colleague’s face. She lifted her door key from her pocket.