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

by Kerry Watts

  67

  Gordon’s stomach was turning upside down standing there with his mental shopping list. There was so much choice. But he’d made his decision. He’d even chosen the name the press would call him. He picked up the hammer he’d struggled to take his eye off. It was a thing of beauty. Not too heavy. The handle felt right in his grip – non-slip too. The last thing he wanted was her blood causing his fingers to slip, and he hoped there would be lots of blood. She looked like she’d bleed, just the way David described.

  Gordon slipped the hammer into his basket and moved round to the gloves. He needed something close-fitting but comfortable. He tried on a pair he liked the look of. No, they were too loose. His fingers would slide around inside them so he hung that pair back up. He pursed his lips before nibbling on his thumbnail and leaned down for a better look.

  ‘Can I help you with anything today?’

  From so deep inside his thoughts Gordon jumped with fright at the assistant’s offer.

  ‘Erm, no, no, thank you,’ he answered. ‘I can manage.’

  The assistant smiled and walked away on seeing an elderly woman struggling to lift a pair of gardening gloves from a high hook. Gordon picked up a pair of black and red gloves that felt like rubber but were thicker. Latex gripper gloves. Multi-purpose. He squeezed the material in his hand then slipped his fingers inside. He balled his hand into a fist then stretched his fingers out. They were comfortable. Snug but not too tight.

  He reached into the shopping basket and lifted the hammer out with his gloved hand. He tightened his grip around the handle. Perfect. He removed the glove and placed them, along with the hammer, back into the basket then moved to the array of trash bags on display. He’d need something thicker than a black rubbish bag. Gravel bags – yes, they’d be just right. He dropped them in. Plastic sheeting. He’d better buy a lot. It might get messy.

  ‘That will be twenty-five pounds ninety-five,’ the cashier told him without cracking a smile.

  Gordon packed his kit, as he planned to call it, and took his change. The camera fitted into the top corner of the shop doorway moved slightly as he walked away. He glanced up at the source of the noise and stopped to stare at it, much to the irritation of an overweight builder dressed in an orange high-vis vest.

  ‘Watch where you’re going,’ the man blasted as he guzzled down a can of juice.

  Gordon didn’t care. He continued to stare then smiled before moving on. It wouldn’t be long before lots of cameras would want to capture his face.

  68

  A background check on Julia Dean showed nothing out of the ordinary. She was almost thirty and had worked for Ferguson Haulage for six months. The first female driver in the company’s history. Perfect driving record, no criminal record – not even a parking ticket. She lived alone in a flat in the centre of Perth. The warrant to obtain Kenny’s phone records hadn’t been difficult. The brutality of the Anguses’ murder meant the need to find who was responsible was a priority – especially given that the weapon of choice was a gun.

  Jessie picked up the marker pen from her desk and snatched the lid off as she moved closer to the evidence board. She wrote Kenny’s name next to Rachel’s and circled it. She drew a single line between his name and the smiling faces of Malcolm and Jean Angus. But why kill them? Sure, they’d got in the way of Rachel’s plans but that wasn’t enough to kill them, was it?

  Then an awful idea struck Jessie. Could Rachel have persuaded another man who loved her to do something unthinkable. Had she been more in control of the killing of her grandparents? Had she manipulated David?

  ‘I got it.’ Dylan beamed from his desk and ushered Jessie over.

  ‘Let’s see who he’s been talking to then, shall we?’ she remarked.

  Julia had given them the exact time she’d heard Kenny on the phone. Jessie ran her finger down the list of numbers on the laptop screen, but there was nothing logged around the time she’d said she’d heard him.

  ‘That’s strange,’ Jessie commented. ‘She was adamant, wasn’t she?’

  ‘Hang on – there’s a link here to—’ Dylan paused while he hovered the mouse over the second link he’d been sent. ‘This is Kenny’s office number.’

  Jessie narrowed her eyes and scanned the numbers on the list, which was considerably long.

  ‘There!’ Dylan pointed to a number on the screen and grabbed a pen to scribble the number down.

  ‘That’s the code for Dundee,’ Jessie chirped and lifted the handset for her phone. She dialled the number Dylan had scribbled on the paper and waited.

  ‘Hello.’ A deep, gruff voice answered the call after five rings.

  ‘Who am I talking to?’ Jessie responded.

  ‘Who are you looking for and I’ll see if I can find them for you?’

  Jessie frowned. She would have to wing it. ‘I’m not sure exactly. Whose number is this?’

  ‘This is the residents’ phone. Is it one of the residents you’re looking for?’ the voice added.

  ‘Which residents would that be?’

  ‘Seagate project.’

  Jessie had to admit she was a little taken aback and thanked the man for his help.

  ‘Well, well, well – looks like Mr Ferguson has some explaining to do. Why would he be calling the Seagate project, I wonder?’

  ‘Good question,’ Dylan agreed. ‘Considering he told us he hadn’t seen or spoken to David Law.’

  ‘You take Law and I’ll talk to Kenny at the same time. Keep them separate. Don’t give them a chance to talk to each other.’

  ‘Sure.’ Dylan nodded and zipped up his jacket then pulled his car keys from his pocket.

  Jessie grabbed her keys and tugged her jacket from the back of her chair. She closed the laptop on Dylan’s desk and followed him out.

  Gordon tucked himself down behind the Astra parked in the furthest corner of the station car park. He checked his watch and tugged his rucksack higher over his shoulder. His heart was racing now as her car slowly drove past. The hunt was on.

  69

  Arlene wanted the ground to open up and swallow her whole. Swallow both of them. Take them away from this pain.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Tommy pleaded with hot tears stinging his eyes. ‘They can’t be dead. How, but…’ He couldn’t form the words he wanted to say.

  Arlene had to be strong, for both of them.

  ‘I know this is a lot to take in,’ she began. ‘Do you remember anything about Boxing Day? Your parents? The accident? Anything?’

  Tommy shook his head then ripped back his blanket and tried to get out of his hospital bed. Arlene stood and placed her hands on his arm.

  ‘What are you doing? Get back into bed. You’re not well enough.’

  ‘How can I stay here?’ Tommy shouted. ‘My parents have been murdered.’

  A nurse moved quickly to where Tommy was struggling with the IV drip in his arm.

  ‘Tommy, please,’ Arlene begged.

  ‘Get this thing out of my arm,’ Tommy roared at the nurse who tried to calm him down.

  Arlene felt helpless because she was unable to say anything to take his heartbreak away. Tommy was finding his parents dead all over again.

  It took the nurse several minutes but Tommy did eventually flop down onto the edge of the bed. He stared past the nurse at Arlene, who was wiping away the mess of tears from her face. He held out his hand and she took the place of the nurse and sat next to him.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ Arlene whispered.

  Tommy took a long, slow breath and kissed the top of Arlene’s head.

  ‘I know you are,’ Tommy whispered back. ‘Can you take me to the station?’

  ‘Tommy, I don’t think…’ Arlene suggested until she saw the heartbreak in his eyes. She nodded. ‘Yes, grab your jacket. It’s freezing out there.’

  Tommy leaned heavily on the sticks the hospital had given him despite their reluctance to agree to his discharge. Tommy had to sign that he understood the risks he was plac
ing himself under by leaving against medical advice, but that wasn’t a problem as far as he was concerned.

  ‘Take your time.’ Arlene held the passenger door open for him and helped put his seatbelt over him.

  Tommy’s strength had withered with the shock of the accident and his body was taking its time to recover, but he would fight with everything he had to find out what had happened to his parents.

  ‘Why can’t I remember anything?’ Tommy announced from within the silence that surrounded the couple on their journey.

  ‘The doctor said that can happen after a serious head injury. It might come back in time.’

  Arlene helped Tommy to get out of the car again at the police station.

  ‘It’s fine; I can manage,’ Tommy told her as he winced while he leaned on the sticks.

  ‘I need to speak to Detective, erm, Detective—’ Tommy began but struggled to remember the name Arlene had told him. His memory remained poor. She patted Tommy’s arm gently.

  ‘You go and sit down over there.’ She kissed his cheek as she pointed to the black plastic chairs a little way from the reception desk.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Arlene began. ‘We need to speak to Detective Inspector Blake.’

  The overweight officer behind the desk picked up the phone and called Jessie’s office phone. He frowned while it rang out before trying her mobile, which went direct to voicemail.

  ‘I’m sorry, DI Blake is unavailable. Can I give her a message?’

  Arlene turned round to face Tommy. ‘He says—’

  ‘I know; I heard. I’m not deaf. We’ll come back in the morning but tell her I need to speak to her, will you? I think I know who killed my parents.’

  The look of shock on Arlene’s face didn’t go unnoticed.

  ‘Tommy?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you haven’t considered it?’

  ‘Tommy, don’t do this,’ Arlene pleaded.

  ‘Who else could it be?’ Tommy added. ‘We both know he’s capable of it.’

  Arlene moved quickly to face her husband.

  ‘Shut up – you don’t know what you’re saying.’ She spoke through gritted teeth and prayed the officer couldn’t understand what Tommy was saying.

  ‘Well, where is he then?’ Tommy blasted and limped past Arlene, nudging his shoulder into her.

  Arlene tried to smile at the officer behind the desk before following Tommy back outside.

  ‘Gordon, what are you doing here?’ Tommy remarked on seeing his son from the back, walking quickly towards the car-park exit. ‘Gordon!’ he called out louder this time.

  Gordon stopped then turned round to face them.

  ‘I was looking for that detective,’ Gordon admitted and gripped the rucksack tighter to his body. ‘But she’s not here.’

  ‘Yes, we know,’ Tommy answered.

  Father and son eyed each other, neither willing to admit the real reason they were there.

  ‘Come on, son – let’s go home.’ Arlene pointed towards the right. ‘The car’s just here.’

  ‘No, I’ve got stuff to do,’ Gordon insisted and started to move away then stopped. He frowned as he turned to face them. ‘Why are you both here?’

  ‘Gordon, I think you should come home with us,’ Tommy urged, trying to avoid his question. ‘You’ve been through a lot.’

  ‘Tell me why you’re here,’ he insisted again. This time his tone was darker and more threatening.

  ‘It doesn’t matter why we’re here, just get in the car.’ Tommy was losing patience. ‘Just do as you’re told for once in your life.’

  ‘Tommy,’ Arlene interrupted and reached for Tommy’s arm, until he snatched it back from her.

  ‘You see what you’ve done? Mm, do you? Look at him. He doesn’t give a shit that his grandparents are dead.’ Tommy leaned heavily on his sticks and limped over to his car. ‘Leave him, Arlene. I’m done trying to reason with him.’

  ‘Gordon,’ Arlene murmured. ‘Please, son.’

  Gordon stared blankly at his mum and walked away. ‘I’ll see you at home. I’ve got stuff to do.’

  70

  Dylan held up his ID to show the woman who had let them into the building the last time.

  ‘Hello, again,’ she said and stepped aside, while holding the front door wide for him. ‘You better come in.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Dylan nodded to the elderly, unkempt man sat on a chair in the office as he passed the door.

  ‘It’s David you’re looking for again, is it?’ she commented. ‘He’s where he always is. In the kitchen.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Dylan said again and walked through the long, thin hallway past a noticeboard with pictures of missing persons pinned to it.

  He followed the strong smell of garlic to find David slumped at the kitchen table, almost exactly in the same spot he’d left him after they’d spoken last time. He held his ID up for David to examine.

  ‘What can I do for you this time, Detective?’ David dipped a digestive biscuit into his mug then bit a chunk off before washing it down with a sip of tea.

  There was a cockiness to the man this time, Dylan decided. The T-shirt he had on looked new too. Dylan dropped down into the chair right next to him, pressing his arm next to his. David pulled away.

  ‘I have a couple of questions for you,’ Dylan began as he tucked his hand inside the inner pocket of his jacket. He clicked his pen while he laid the notebook flat.

  ‘I told you and your lady friend everything the other day,’ David continued to sip.

  ‘Remind me again – when did you last see Rachel Ferguson?’

  ‘I told you. I haven’t seen her – Alice – since that night.’

  ‘What about Kenny, her husband? When did you last talk to him?’

  David’s jaw clenched, just for a second, but Dylan saw it.

  ‘I haven’t spoken to the man.’ David started to stand up to leave the table.

  ‘What if I told you I have proof that you have?’ Dylan suggested and watched David stop to turn round to face him.

  ‘What proof is that exactly?’

  David sank the remnants of his mug of tea and dropped it into the sink.

  ‘A call was logged from Kenny’s number to the phone’ – he pointed at the door – ‘in the hall.’

  Dylan could see him mulling over the suggestion the two men had been in communication.

  ‘How do you know he was talking to me?’

  ‘Who else would he be talking to?’

  David shrugged then smiled at Dylan. ‘If there’s nothing else, I have somewhere I have to be.’

  Dylan had to think fast. It was clear that David Law thought he’d found a flaw in his argument. That was clever on his part, Dylan had to admit. Using a communal phone. But he was holding the trump card.

  ‘How would your probation officer react if I called him to tell him you’re refusing to help me with my enquiries?’ Dylan pulled his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling. He hoped that Law didn’t know that Dylan had no idea who his probation officer was.

  ‘Wait.’ David lifted his hand then sat back down. ‘It was me he was talking to.’

  Dylan tucked his phone away then listened in wide-eyed disgust at David’s story of blackmail and greed.

  ‘I wouldn’t have given Alice – I mean, Rachel – a second thought if that young lad hadn’t contacted me.’

  ‘By young lad I’m guessing you mean Gordon Angus.’ Memories of Gordon’s murderous obsession returned. ‘What did he want from you?’

  ‘My story, plain and simple,’ David told him. ‘In return for a generous payment. I didn’t ask how such a scruffy young man got hold of that amount of cash.’

  ‘How much?’

  ‘Does that really matter?’

  ‘No, I’m curious, that’s all,’ Dylan remarked. ‘More or less than you bribed out of Kenny Ferguson?’

  David shifted uncomfortably in the chair.

  ‘That was the real reason for your interaction with him. Money?’ Dylan
added.

  David sighed. ‘I’m not proud of doing it, if that’s what you’re getting at.’

  ‘I never said that.’

  ‘No? Well, he owed me,’ David interrupted angrily. ‘She owed me, and that boy coming round here asking me to relive it all, it got me thinking. Thinking about it all. My life – or rather my lack of life.’

  ‘Blackmail is also a crime,’ Dylan pointed out.

  ‘Is that right, Detective?’ David spat. ‘Funny that because so’s murder but I didn’t see Alice Connor banged up for long.’ He clenched his fist and pummelled the table.

  ‘Right, that’s enough or I’ll arrest you,’ Dylan asserted just as Law’s phone rang on the table. Dylan didn’t get a chance to see what the caller ID said before it was snatched up and switched off.

  ‘I only wanted what I was entitled to,’ David added.

  ‘I understand you’re feeling hurt. It didn’t seem fair that you were the only one doing serious time for your crime.’

  ‘My crime?’ David scoffed and shook his head. ‘My only crime was being stupid enough to fall in love with her.’

  Dylan eyed him carefully. ‘She was just a teenage girl. Are you telling me she was the mastermind behind the murder?’

  David Law laughed. ‘Trust me: she was no innocent teenage girl. Have you asked yourself the question – if I did what I did for her, who else has she manipulated into helping her? Convenient, isn’t it, that couple being dead now? Alice Connor never liked people that got in the way of what she wanted. What makes you think Rachel Ferguson is any different?’

  71

  Jessie knocked once and waited. She glanced around at the drab grey surroundings and thought the Fergusons must be hating it. Two cherry trees and a small patch of grass was as much countryside as they had for now. A world away from their acres of land with views of rolling green hills, even if they were dotted with wind turbines.

  When she got no response, she knocked again. This time a light blinked on inside the hallway, followed by footsteps that got closer. Jessie could hear voices inside before the door opened. She smiled to greet Rachel, who nodded and immediately began to walk away, leaving the door wide open.