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

by Kerry Watts

  ‘Come on in. I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Jessie handed him a large mug of hot coffee and sat opposite Dylan on one of her black armchairs by the window. ‘It’s decaf, don’t worry.’

  Dylan blew onto the top of it and then sipped. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. I’ll get you the spare duvet once I’ve had this.’ She held her mug up then sipped. ‘It’s late and I don’t suppose Shelly will want the wee ones disturbed at this time of night.’

  Dylan’s long, slow breath concerned Jessie. The couple had always seemed solid. Happy. She didn’t have to wait long for the details to come tumbling out.

  ‘Shelly says she’s had enough,’ Dylan said without looking up from his mug. Instead he sniffed and drank his coffee.

  ‘Oh,’ was all she could think to answer such a sweeping statement. Nice one, Jess; how supportive.

  ‘Oh indeed,’ he repeated her offering.

  ‘Enough of what exactly?’

  Dylan sank the remainder of his coffee and laid the mug down onto Jessie’s coffee table.

  ‘Me not being there and when I am there, my mind being on the job.’ He let out another long, slow sigh. ‘I’ve got my sergeant’s exams at the end of February. You’d think she would be pleased.’ He sat back on the sofa and scratched at the back of his head. ‘Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s tough for her being at home all day with them. Och, I’m sorry, it’s not your problem I just…’

  Jessie followed Dylan’s line of sight to a pile of papers in the corner of the coffee table that had Haley McKenzie’s photo at the top.

  ‘Are you looking into Haley McKenzie for something?’ he asked as he reached for it.

  ‘I, erm.’ Jessie frowned quickly, becoming aware of the red flush rising on her cheeks. ‘You know Haley?’

  Dylan tossed the photo back down. ‘Yes, sure, you don’t remember?’

  Jessie shook her head. ‘No, should I?’

  ‘Haley McKenzie is the daughter of a judge. You must remember. She knocked someone down while she was drunk behind the wheel. The woman survived but she ended up with horrific injuries to her legs, I think. I was in uniform at the time. Me and Shelly were just going out – 2010 I think it was.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘Suspended sentence. Mandatory alcohol counselling, you know the kind of thing. She’s working for a lab in Edinburgh I think that processes forensic evidence or something. I know because she was a friend of Shelly’s.’

  ‘Oh,’ Jessie found herself repeating. Tonight was becoming quite the revelation.

  ‘What’s your interest in her?’

  Dylan’s question took her off guard. ‘Och, she’s come up in something I’ve been looking into.’

  He seemed satisfied with her answer. Dylan’s information caused more questions to burn in Jessie’s mind but chiefly how the hell had Haley McKenzie met Dan?

  55

  Rachel’s eyes snapped open as the sunlight spilled through the gap in the bedroom curtains. Kenny wasn’t lying beside her but she heard him in the bathroom down the hall. She hadn’t wanted to come home at all last night and for a brief second considered keeping on walking away from this nightmare. She was to meet with her solicitor later that day to talk over her defence. Her defence. Surely her innocence was her defence she’d told him on the phone.

  The knock on the front door made her jump. She grabbed her jumper from the chair at the side of the bed, which did nothing to stop the goosebumps growing on her arms. She tried to rub warmth into her freezing skin before peering into the spyhole to see who their early-morning visitor was. Of course, who else could it be?

  ‘Good morning, Caroline.’ Rachel painted on a smile and opened the door wide to invite her inside.

  Caroline smiled back. ‘The policeman checked my ID just in case you’re wondering.’

  ‘Great,’ Rachel replied, unsure what Caroline meant by that. Perhaps she was trying to reassure her that the police were paying attention.

  Rachel heard the toilet flushing, relieved that she wouldn’t have to make much more small talk.

  ‘I won’t be a minute,’ Kenny announced as he wandered from the bathroom to the bedroom wrapped in only a towel.

  ‘Any news on the cause of the fire?’ Caroline asked.

  Rachel could only shake her head. ‘Not so far.’

  ‘I’m sure they’re doing everything they can.’

  Rachel turned to face her, painting on another smile, right before the kettle clicked off. ‘I’m sure they are.’

  ‘I don’t have time for coffee,’ Kenny, now dressed, said from the doorway. His face was still flushed from the hot shower. ‘I’ve got a meeting with the hauliers’ association in Dundee so we better make a move.’ He snatched up his car keys from the worktop and kissed Rachel’s cheek. ‘I’ll try not to be too long. Your solicitor is coming at half eleven, remember?’

  As if I could forget.

  Rachel leaned in to her husband’s kiss in search of support.

  ‘Aye, see you later,’ she remarked and stirred two sugars into her mug.

  Rachel watched the pair walk towards Kenny’s Land Rover as she dropped her teaspoon in the sink. She frowned when Caroline glanced back up at her from the passenger seat with a smile. Rachel mouthed the word, ‘Bitch,’ as she smiled back.

  The warmth of the water from the shower cascaded from Rachel’s shoulders down onto her breasts before dripping onto the floor of the small shower cubicle. She scrubbed the smell of beer from her hair; she’d been shocked that Kenny hadn’t challenged her about where she’d been last night despite the late hour she got back. She should probably enjoy these moments. If DI Blake got her way, Rachel would soon be behind bars for a double murder. She was forty-four years old. Double murder meant two life sentences. If she did ever get out, she would be an old woman.

  She had to put that out of her mind. This morning she had to get over to the horses then back there for the meeting with her solicitor. Rachel slipped a thick sweater over her T-shirt and vest then pulled on her leggings and boots. She wished that all she had to think about today was riding out her horses. It was cold but the sun was out and it felt fresh on her skin. She locked up the flat and headed down the few steps into the block’s car park. She knocked on the officer’s car window.

  ‘Hi, I need to get over to my horses this morning.’ Rachel leaned into the police patrol car. ‘I’ve been told I need to ask you to take me.’

  ‘That’s right; hop in.’ The police constable yanked his seatbelt on and started the engine.

  Rachel got in and wished she didn’t ever have to come back. She wondered how much money it would take to persuade the handsome young officer in the front seat to just keep driving.

  56

  Arlene Angus was getting sick of being followed. She couldn’t prove it but she had an inkling. The pretty, dark-haired girl behind her in the corridor seemed out of place as Arlene waited for the entrance to the ICU to be opened for her. She wanted to yell, ‘Why can’t I just visit my sick husband in peace?’ but resisted. Why couldn’t they see Arlene couldn’t help them? She didn’t know where Gordon was any more than they did. She couldn’t tell that DI Blake anything.

  The cheerful, ginger-haired ICU nurse opened the door for Arlene. ‘Good morning, Mrs Angus.’

  Arlene offered her dark-haired pursuer a smile as the door was closed behind her. The machines supporting Tommy Angus’s recovery beeped and blinked to show he was still fighting on. The swelling that had appeared around the bleed in his brain had gone down considerably Arlene was told. Finally, some good news. She took hold of Tommy’s hand and held it to her cheek.

  ‘You’re coming back to us soon, sweetheart; I know you are,’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to take care of you. You and Gordon.’ Arlene kissed the palm of Tommy’s hand and allowed a single tear to drip from her cheek onto the bed. Moments later Tommy’s breathing changed from a steady, controlled
rhythm to a sharp, gurgling cough. Arlene wiped her face with the palm of her hand and tapped the buzzer while she shouted for help.

  ‘Somebody, please, hurry – he needs help!’

  Arlene was quickly swept aside as the curtains were hastily drawn around Tommy’s bed again. No, Tommy, please! I need you. Don’t leave me. We can work this thing out.

  The sound of coughing followed by a simple whimper hit Arlene’s ears and she stopped, held her breath, confused by the development. A hoarse, dry voice struggled to be heard above the sounds emanating from the life-support equipment keeping the other patients alive.

  ‘Looks like your husband wants to rejoin us faster than anticipated.’ An older, bearded doctor smiled at Arlene as she peered round the curtain.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Arlene sobbed. ‘I don’t understand.’

  Tommy’s eyes were barely open and he was clutching his throat. His words exited in a rough growl that Arlene could barely hear.

  ‘Tommy has come round by himself, it seems. What did you say to him, eh? Whatever it was, it worked.’ The doctor signed his name against a chart tucked in a folder hung on the bottom of Tommy’s bed. ‘He’s still very groggy and I’d like him to rest but this is a good sign, Mrs Angus.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she whispered while the doctor and his small team filed out, leaving the couple alone again.

  Tommy opened his mouth to speak, barely able to produce a rasping sound. He slipped his fingers up and down his throat and found it hard to swallow without pain catching him.

  ‘The tube in your throat, that’s what made your throat hurt. Do you want some cold water?’ Arlene fussed and tidied his blanket further up his chest.

  Tommy managed a nod then flopped his head back onto his pillow. Arlene held the straw close to his lips and watched him wince against the sting it caused in his throat until he moved his head away. A gentle silence fell over the couple. He’d come back to her. There was plenty of time to talk later.

  Arlene held Tommy’s hand and watched his eyes close and open in quick succession. He’d lost weight despite the short time since the accident. His face looked pinched and his skin grey and pallid. He was going to need a lot of care even after getting out of hospital.

  Tommy’s eyes snapped open and he gasped. Arlene watched him take long, slow breaths. He turned to face her.

  ‘Where’s Mum?’ Tommy whispered through the pain. ‘Is she with you?’

  Arlene’s blood ran cold. The accident meant Tommy had lost some of his short-term memory, then the bleeding on his brain had postponed breaking the inevitable bad news.

  ‘Don’t you go worrying about that just now,’ was all she could manage. The last thing she wanted was for the shock of that horrific news to set his recovery back or, worse, kill him, which was more than possible given the weak state of his body, especially his heart.

  ‘Is Gordon with her?’ he added.

  Arlene wished she had the answer. The truth was it was better that none of them knew. She’d given Gordon money and dropped him off where he’d asked her to. If she didn’t know where her son was then that detective couldn’t persuade her to tell her.

  57

  It had been easier to get into the house than Gordon had anticipated. Dumb police officers. They’d parked the car out on the front drive to his grandparents’ house, conveniently leaving the back unguarded. A hunch had told Gordon that might be the case. He tugged his collar up against the howling, bitter early January wind and smirked at the sound of the radio booming out of the officers’ car. He wondered if they were the same officers that had been assigned to spend New Year sitting there too.

  ‘Idiots,’ he muttered under his breath as he unlocked the back door that led into the utility room.

  Once inside he pressed the door closed gently, giving them the benefit of the doubt. Gordon couldn’t afford to be too complacent. The room smelled of wet washing left sitting in the washing machine since Boxing Day. He opened the door and removed the towels then tugged the drying screen from the cupboard. Gordon hung them in order, the way his gran had shown him. Small towels on the lower parts first.

  ‘Shit!’ He jumped at the sound of his ringing phone and quickly silenced the ringtone. That was remiss of him not to put it on silent. Her call made him angry. His mum had promised she wouldn’t call. Gordon slipped the phone into the pocket of his hooded fleece and opened the door that led from the utility room into the kitchen slowly, peering carefully through a crack before opening it wider. He pressed it shut quietly ensuring it was held shut on the catch because the draught often pushed that door shut. It was then he spotted a window had been left slightly ajar. He frowned and sighed before tugging it shut. He thought that disrespectful. What if an intruder broke in and stole from his grandparents?

  Gordon moved swiftly through the kitchen, bent over to ensure his silhouette didn’t cast any kind of shadow in the sunlight that streamed in. He crept up the stairs and into the bedroom he used. He was angry with himself for forgetting to bring his research with him when he left but he’d been in a hurry.

  Gordon lifted the pile of books from his bedside table and put the notebook into his pocket, then he opened the drawer and grabbed a couple of pens. Gordon dropped down onto the edge of his bed and lifted the top book from the pile. A book about teenage killers he’d found in a second-hand shop in Edinburgh. A whisper of a smile grew on his lips. It was in that book he’d been able to confirm it was her. Further research on the internet had cemented his theory. It was her. Finding her partner in crime hadn’t been all that difficult either, and his greed had made arranging to talk to him even easier. He swore he’d not spoken to her since that day but Gordon wasn’t convinced. He lived so close.

  He flicked through the pages until he found the chapter he was looking for. He kissed the tips of two of his fingers then placed them on her pictures. It was time to let her know he’d found her, that she needn’t worry that he knew who she really was.

  He slammed the book shut and crept back downstairs and out the utility-room door again, smirking that those idiots in the car out front had never even known he was there.

  58

  Boxing Day 1991

  A whole year. Rachel couldn’t believe it. So much had changed in that time, becoming a mother the most significant thing. She wondered what, if anything, David thought about becoming a father. She didn’t even know if he’d been told. Did he know that her new name was Rachel? Would he still come looking for Alice Connor? Her foster mother’s voice drifted into Rachel’s room. She tugged her duvet over her head and tried to ignore her. Tensions between the two were growing and it was getting harder for Rachel to walk away from confrontation every day.

  ‘Rachel.’ The voice outside her bedroom door followed two gentle taps. ‘I’ve done us a cooked breakfast, sweetheart. Bacon, eggs, sausages, the works. Come on down before it gets cold.’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ Rachel shouted from under the duvet.

  Instead of further words of persuasion all Rachel heard were retreating footsteps. She should feel guilty. Her foster mother had been there for her when Rachel was at her lowest but all she felt was suffocated. Trapped inside a routine she hated. School was pointless. She couldn’t concentrate. She struggled to sleep and always felt so tired. The doctor had prescribed antidepressants for her but all they did was make her sleepy and incredibly thirsty. It was embarrassing when her tongue felt so dry it seemed like it was stuck to the roof of her mouth. To make matters worse, Ella was spending more and more time with a girl from her class. More than she spent with Rachel these days anyway. The next few months were so important, they kept telling Rachel. Studying and exams were crucial if she wanted a future. But she just couldn’t get her head around it.

  It was no use. She wasn’t going to be able to sleep now. The smell of bacon invaded her nose, even from under the duvet. Rachel tossed it back and sat up, tugging her nightshirt over her knees, which she pulled towards her chest. It was cold in her room
in the morning. Rachel thought her head would explode.

  She reached into the drawer on her bedside table and pulled out the nail scissors. She lifted her nightshirt and dragged the blade across her thigh, revelling in the pain and release she felt at the sight of the small trickle of blood that appeared. She’d seen a girl in the dinner queue at school with scars on her arm one day as she stretched out to lift a yoghurt from the fridge. The girl quickly spotted Rachel’s ghoulish interest and hurried to cover the ugly scars. But Rachel didn’t think they were ugly. She was fascinated. She’d heard of self-harm but had never known anyone who’d done it. The girl had looked like anyone else standing waiting in line for her lunch – apart from the lines on her arm. There was nothing weird about her. She did well in class. She had friends. It wasn’t until the first time Rachel did it that she understood properly. The relief was immense. Indescribable. Even if it was for just a short time. She could free herself from the pressure that was crushing her.

  The euphoria that came after a cut meant Rachel hadn’t heard the footsteps returning up the stairs. She didn’t even see the door swing slowly open.

  ‘What have you done?’ her foster mum gasped.

  Rachel was so startled she dropped the scissors and wiped her thigh with her nightshirt.

  ‘Don’t you know how to knock?’ she screamed at her foster mother, who had dropped herself down onto the edge of her bed.

  ‘Oh, Rachel, talk to me,’ she pleaded. ‘Tell me what’s going on with you? Is it the date? Is it the anniversary?’

  ‘No, I don’t care about the damn date!’ Rachel roared back. ‘Leave me alone!’

  As her foster mother reached out for her, Rachel fought her attempt to comfort her distress by pushing her onto the bedroom floor.

  Rachel leaped from her bed. ‘I said, leave me alone!’ She snatched up the scissors then screamed and ran out of the bedroom, banging the door shut after her.