She Is Gone

by Ben Cheetham

  “This is a joint investigation between Cumbria Constabulary and Greater Manchester Police. It’s standard procedure. You know that, Detective Anderson,” pointed out Paul. “Now if we could get cracking. Time’s ticking on.”

  Paul’s impatience reassured Jack that there was nothing to worry about. Paul was fighting a constant battle against his workload. Like a hamster on a wheel, he only slowed down when something out of the ordinary caused him to stop and take a closer look. Nothing in his manner suggested that was the case.

  Butterfly gave Jack a tense smile. “I’ll see you soon.”

  “I’ll be just outside if you need me.” He put his hand on her arm for a moment as if to steady her, before stepping from the room.

  Steve closed the door on his way out. Paul and Alice sat back down. Paul motioned for Butterfly to do likewise, saying, “I must inform you that we’re being filmed.” He pointed to the recording equipment. “We will also be making an audio recording of today’s interview. My name is Detective Chief Inspector Paul Gunn.” He motioned to Alice. “And this is Detective Inspector Alice Hayton. The time by my watch is three thirty PM, and the date is the twenty eighth of September 2018. The place is Greater Manchester Police Headquarters. For the purpose of this interview, could you please tell me your full name?”

  “My name is Butterfly–”

  “You legal name,” interrupted Paul.

  A faint frown touched Butterfly’s forehead. She was still going through the process of changing her name by deed poll. A shiver ran down her spine, like someone had stepped on her grave, as she said, “My name is Tracy Ridley.”

  “And your date of birth?”

  “Tenth of the fifth, 1986.”

  “And your home address?”

  Butterfly gave her address and Paul continued, “Although you’re attending this interview voluntarily and are not under caution, I’m still obliged to advise you of your rights.”

  He went through the same procedure as on the previous occasions Butterfly had been interviewed, advising her that she had the right to remain silent and that anything she said might be used against her in a court of law. Lastly, he handed her a document to sign declaring that ‘I do not want a solicitor present at this time. My decision to answer questions without having a solicitor present is free and voluntary.’

  “OK, Tracy, I’d like to talk to you about the events that occurred in Gosforth, Seascale and at Bray Farm on August twentieth 2018.” Paul removed a sheath of papers from a folder and placed them in front of Butterfly. “This is a transcript of the statement you gave on the twenty second of August in Cumberland Infirmary. Could you please read it through and confirm that all the details are correct?”

  Sweat prickled on Butterfly’s palms as she read through the statement. It was all in there – Karl kidnapping her and Charlie, Phil Beech’s death, Neal Bray’s insanity. The only thing missing was Karl’s claim that she – or rather Io – had shot Dale Sutton. Reliving that day made her feel angry, queasy, sad and other things she dare not allow herself to acknowledge in that room with two detectives staring at her. Upon coming to the end of the statement, she said in a low voice, “Yes, it’s correct.”

  “Could you please speak clearly into the microphone?”

  Forcing herself to meet Paul’s gaze, Butterfly repeated, “It’s correct.”

  “Are you positive about that?” Detective Hayton asked, watching Butterfly through spectacles that magnified her unblinking blue eyes.

  “Yes, why do you ask?” Even as the words were leaving her mouth, Butterfly wanted to kick herself. Jack had told her time and again to say only what was absolutely necessary.

  “Dale Sutton.”

  Butterfly’s heart palpitated at the name. Did they know something about his death that she didn’t? DI Hayton’s next words seemed to suggest otherwise, “You say your ex-boyfriend, Karl Robinson, tried to force you to shoot Dale. Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “So the Glock was in your hand?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Why didn’t you turn it on Karl?”

  “I couldn’t. His hand was over mine.” Butterfly recited the words Jack had drummed into her, “When I passed out, Dale was still alive. And when I regained consciousness, I was back in–”

  “Mm-hmm,” DI Hayton broke in. “Yes, that’s what your statement says.” With a seemingly casual motion, she flipped open a folder revealing a post-mortem photo of Dale’s face. “And while you lay unconscious, your lover – sorry, ex-lover – put five bullets into Dale. Five,” she repeated the number as if it held some special significance.

  There was an extended silence. Butterfly was no longer looking DI Hayton. She was looking at the photo. It was the first time she’d seen it. Arrows and numbers indicated the entry wounds. One bullet had destroyed Dale’s nose. Another had torn open his left cheek, exposing a row of uneven teeth. A third had left a gaping cavity in place of his right eye. A fourth and fifth had combined to shear off the upper left quarter of his skull. What little remained looked like a horribly disfigured waxwork.

  Butterfly’s clammy hands gripped the table as she leant closer to the photo. She wanted to look away, but her eyes were welded to Dale’s face. It was as if someone had reached into her dream and pulled the grisly death mask from it.

  It wasn’t just a nightmare, she said to herself. You did it. Oh Christ, oh god. You killed him!

  “Five bullets,” DI Hayton said again. “All to the face and head. Seems like overkill, don’t you think?”

  “I–” Butterfly’s voice snagged in her throat.

  “Are you OK?” asked Paul. “Would you like a glass of water?”

  Before Butterfly could reply, DI Hayton pressed on, “One or two bullets would have been enough to do the job. But five… That suggests to me that Dale’s killer was venting a deep-seated rage on him. I’m not sure Karl had that kind of emotional investment in his death.”

  Just tell the truth. Tell them you killed him.

  Butterfly put a hand to her head. There was a strange shifting sensation inside her skull, a feeling of something worming its way up through the layers of mental soil. She winced as pressure built behind her forehead.

  Paul threw his colleague a disapproving glance. “I wasn’t aware that Detective Hayton intended to pursue this line of questioning. If you’d like to stop or take a–”

  “Thank you but there’s no need,” Butterfly interrupted. Her voice was even and composed. Her eyes fell to the photo again. There was no flicker of emotion in them. She might have been looking at a picture in a clothing catalogue.

  “Why do you think Karl felt the need to put five bullets in Dale?” asked DI Hayton.

  “Because he loved me,” Butterfly stated simply, meeting the detective’s eyes.

  They held each other’s gaze for a moment. Then, nodding as if satisfied by the answer, DI Hayton flipped the folder shut.

  The rest of the interview went smoothly. DI Hayton asked a few questions about Phil Beech’s death that Butterfly answered without hesitation. Paul wrapped the interview up by asking Butterfly if she had anything she wanted to say.

  “No,” she replied.

  “And do you have any complaints about the way you’ve been treated today?”

  “No.”

  “OK. The time is four fifteen PM. This is Detective Chief Inspector Paul Gunn.”

  Paul switched off the recording equipment. “I’d like to apologise. There was no need for you to see that photo.”

  “Please accept my apologies too. I didn’t mean to upset you,” DI Hayton said disingenuously. With a shake of her head, she glanced at the folder containing Dale’s photo. “The things we do for love, eh?”

  She stared at Butterfly as if waiting for a reply. Not one more word than necessary. Butterfly’s internal voice was cold and calm now. Her face as unreadable as her grandma’s, she turned her back on DI Hayton and left the room.

  Jack hurried to her with
Charlie in his arms. “How did it go?”

  “Fine.”

  He frowned as if he was unsure what to make of her flat response.

  “M…m…” Charlie burbled, wriggling to get to Butterfly. She looked at him, blank-faced.

  “Are you sure?” asked Jack.

  “Why do you keep asking?”

  “Well, it’s just you don’t…” He trailed off as if thinking better of finishing the sentence.

  “Don’t what?” There was a knowing glimmer in Butterfly’s eyes. “Don’t seem like myself?”

  Jack’s frown deepened. “What happened in there? Has something upset you?”

  “You’ve seen it, haven’t you?”

  “Seen what?”

  Leaning in as if to kiss Jack, Butterfly murmured, “The photo. Five bullets. You know I killed him.”

  His eyes darting towards the interview room, Jack took hold of Butterfly’s arm and drew her along the corridor. His voice dropped. “I’ll tell you what I know.” He made a circular motion to Charlie, Butterfly and himself. “This is what matters. The rest of it… well it can go to hell along with Dale Sutton.”

  “You should have told me.”

  Jack blinked away from Butterfly. “Maybe but…” His eyes returned to hers. “I can’t lose you, Butterfly.”

  They stared at each other, Jack’s eyes intense with hope, Butterfly’s strangely empty.

  Charlie grabbed hold of her sleeve. Pressing his lips into a flat line, he suddenly said, “Mama.”

  Like a damn bursting, the expression flooded back into Butterfly’s face. “Did you hear that?” she said, smiling in astonishment.

  Jack’s face mirrored hers. “I heard it.”

  Butterfly plucked Charlie from Jack’s arms. “Say it again, Charlie. Say mama.”

  Charlie obligingly chanted, “Mama, Mama, Mama.”

  Butterfly laughed. “Well done, Charlie!”

  Jack gave her an apologetic look. “You’re right, I should have told you.” He sighed. “I just want everything to be OK.”

  “You’re not going to lose me, Jack.” She leaned in and this time she kissed him before tenderly drawing his head onto her shoulder. She repeated DI Hayton’s parting words under her breath. “The things we do for love.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I love you.” Butterfly took Jack’s hand. “Let’s go home and get on with being a family.”

  Thank You!

  Thanks for reading She Is Gone. I really, REALLY hope you enjoyed it. If you go on to read my other books, have an extra big thank you! I couldn’t do this mysterious thing called writing without your support.

  Can I ask a favour? If you have a spare moment could you leave a short review of this book on Amazon? It would be hugely appreciated as reader reviews can make or break a book like mine that doesn’t have the financial clout of the big publishers behind it. If you do get chance to review my book then - deep breath - THANK YOU!!!

  Oh and please feel free to get in touch. I’d genuinely love to know what you think of my books. You can find me on Twitter at @ben_cheethamUK or Facebook at @BenCheethamBooks. I look forward to hearing from you.

  Keep reading!

  Best wishes,

  Ben

  P.S. Don’t forget, you can enjoy one of my books for FREE simply by clicking this link GET MY FREE BOOK and joining my mailing list.

  Other Books by the Author

  (Jack Anderson Book 1)

  What happens when the watcher becomes the watched?

  Jack has it all – a beautiful wife and daughter, a home, a career. Then his wife, Rebecca, plunges to her death from the Sussex coast cliffs. Was it an accident or did she jump? He moves to Manchester with his daughter, Naomi, to start afresh, but things don’t go as planned. He didn’t think life could get any worse...

  Jack sees a woman in a window who is the image of Rebecca. Attraction turns into obsession as he returns to the window night after night. But he isn’t the only one watching her...

  Jack is about to be drawn into a deadly game. The woman lies dead. The latest victim in a series of savage murders. Someone is going to go down for the crimes. If Jack doesn’t find out who the killer is, that ‘someone’ may well be him.

  You can purchase Now She’s Dead at

  amazon.co.uk

  amazon.com

  amazon.com.au

  amazon.de

  amazon.ca

  Or read with Kindle Unlimited!

  (Jack Anderson Book 2)

  Her eyes pop open like someone surfacing from a nightmare. Shreds of moonlight glimmer through a woodland canopy. How did she get here? A thousand bells seem to be clanging in her ears. There is a strange, terrible smell. Both sweet and bitter. Like burnt meat. Her senses scream that something is very, very wrong. Then she sees it. A hole in the ground. Deep and rectangular. Like a grave…

  After the death of his wife, Jack is starting to get his life back on track. But things are about to get complicated.

  A woman lies in a hospital bed, clinging to life after being shot in the head. She remembers nothing, not even her own name. Who is she? That is the question Jack must answer. All he has to go on is a mysterious facial tattoo.

  Damaged kindred spirits, Jack and the nameless woman quickly form a bond. But he can’t afford to fall for someone who might put his family at risk. People are dying. Their deaths appear to be connected to the woman. What if she isn’t really the victim? What if she’s just as bad as the ‘Unspeakable Monsters’ who put her in hospital?

  You can purchase Who Is She? at

  amazon.co.uk

  amazon.com

  amazon.com.au

  amazon.de

  amazon.ca

  Or read with Kindle Unlimited!

  What really haunts Fenton House?

  Adam’s eyes swelled in horror at the sight that confronted him. Henry was standing with his back against the front door, pale and rigid, his left hand pressed to his neck. Blood was seeping between his fingers, running down his wrist and dripping from his elbow onto the back of Jacob’s head. Jacob was facedown on the tiled floor, arms outstretched to either side with blood pooling around his wrists. There was a faintly metallic butcher’s shop smell in the air...

  After the tragic death of their eleven-year-old son, Adam and Ella are fighting to keep their family from falling apart. Then comes an opportunity that seems too good to be true. They win a competition to live for free in a breathtakingly beautiful mansion on the Cornish Lizard Peninsula. There’s just one catch – the house is supposedly haunted.

  Mystery has always swirled around Fenton House. In 1920 the house’s original owner, reclusive industrialist Walter Lewarne, hanged himself from its highest turret. In 1996, the then inhabitants, George Trehearne, his wife Sofia and their young daughter Heloise disappeared without a trace. Neither mystery was ever solved.

  Adam is not the type to believe in ghosts. As far as he’s concerned, ghosts are simply memories. Everywhere he looks in their cramped London home he sees his dead son. Despite misgivings, the chance to start afresh is too tempting to pass up. Adam, Ella and their surviving son Henry move into Fenton House. At first, the change of scenery gives them all a new lease of life. But as the house starts to reveal its secrets, they come to suspect that they may not be alone after all…

  You can purchase Don’t Look Back at

  amazon.co.uk

  amazon.com

  amazon.com.au

  amazon.de

  amazon.ca

  Or read with Kindle Unlimited!

  Is it ever truly possible to atone for killing someone?

  After the death of his son in a freak accident, DI Harlan Miller’s life is spiralling out of control. He’s drinking too much. His marriage and career are on the rocks. But things are about to get even worse. A booze-soaked night out and a single wild punch leave a man dead and Harlan facing a manslaughter charge.

  Fast-forward four years. Harlan’s prison term is up, but li
fe on the outside holds little promise. Divorced, alone, consumed by guilt, he thinks of nothing beyond atoning for the death he caused. But how do you make up for depriving a wife of her husband and two young boys of their father? Then something happens, something terrible, yet something that holds out a twisted kind of hope for Harlan – the dead man’s youngest son is abducted.

  From that moment Harlan’s life has only one purpose – finding the boy. So begins a frantic race against time that leads him to a place darker than anything he experienced as a policeman and a stark moral choice that compels him to question the law he once enforced.

  You can purchase Blood Guilt at

  amazon.co.uk

  amazon.com

  amazon.com.au

  amazon.de

  amazon.ca

  Or read with Kindle Unlimited!

  Murderer? Or heroine? You decide...

  Fifteen-year-old Grace Kirby kisses her mum and heads off to school. It’s a day like any other day, except that Grace will never return home.

  Fifteen years have passed since Grace went missing. In that time, Stephen Baxley has made millions. And now he’s lost millions. Suicide seems like the only option. But Stephen has no intention of leaving behind his wife, son and daughter. He wants them all to be together forever, in this world or the next.

  Angel is on the brink of suicide too. Then she hears a name on the news that transports her back to a windowless basement. Something terrible happened in that basement. Something Angel has been running from most of her life. But the time for running is over. Now is the time to start fighting back.

  At the scene of a fatal shooting, DI Jim Monahan finds evidence of a sickening crime linked to a missing girl. Then more people start turning up dead. Who is the killer? Are the victims also linked to the girl? Who will be next to die? The answers will test to breaking-point Jim’s faith in the law he’s spent his life upholding.