by Kerena Swan
Tommy’s eyes widened and Paton chuckled. Tommy would never break the law. Wanting to be a detective like his dad and Granddad one day meant he had to stick to the rules.
‘I’ll only be gone two nights so I haven’t got much time to track the suspect down. I’ll be out driving or walking around all day and evening so you wouldn’t see much of me anyway.’ Paton added his toiletry bag to the case then zipped it up. ‘Besides, I need you here to do my duties. Have you still got the list I gave you?’
Tommy pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and carefully read the simplified list of household chores, struggling over the odd word but checking the picture next to it as a prompt.
‘Good lad,’ Paton said. ‘Man of the house.’ He regretted the phrase instantly, worried it might start Tommy off again asking for a kitten. He’d been upset the other evening when Paton and Wendy had to deny him what he wanted, and Wendy had felt guilty. Perhaps Tommy would settle for a gerbil or fish instead.
Paton patted Tommy on the shoulder then changed his mind and pulled him into a hug. Tommy might be fifteen but unlike most other teenagers he still enjoyed close contact. He gave his dad a big wet kiss on the cheek. Paton grinned, resisting the urge to dry it off in front of Tommy, then lifted his case off the bed and went downstairs to kiss Wendy goodbye. Tommy stood on the doorstep, waving as Paton drove away with a surge of excitement and anticipation. Could this be it? Would he catch up with Trina at last?
The journey was uneventful but tedious, and Paton made good time. Milton Keynes was a surprise. He was expecting a spread of modern housing and factories but there were trees – thousands of trees of different sizes, shapes and hues from majestic horse chestnuts holding candles of flowers aloft to silvery willows and bright green oak – lining the roads and shielding the housing estates from view. It was stunning and easy to get across town with the grid system. He was glad he’d got Satnav, though. He’d never navigate all these roundabouts without it.
Paton checked into the Holiday Inn then went straight out again. He entered a postcode of the location near Bletchley where the silver Fiesta was last recorded and set off. When he reached a vast housing estate of what looked like social housing he decided to drive around rather than knock on doors. There were simply too many houses here. He suddenly felt overwhelmed with the task he’d taken on. He must have been mad to think he may be able to trace the car or Trina Hodges. It would take a whole task force undertaking door to door enquiries on several estates for there to be any hope of finding them. He couldn’t give up this early though. He’d persuaded Metcalf to put his faith in him so he had to try his best for the next two days.
The Lakes Estate had a strange layout. Many of the flat-roofed terraced houses were only accessible by footpaths, and cars had to be left in nearby parking areas. Paton drove up and down the narrow roads, stopping and turning round in the car parks, looking for a silver Fiesta. He spotted a few but they were the wrong year and model. The one he was looking for was much older. After two hours he gave in to his rumbling stomach and drove into Bletchley centre to find something to eat. He sat in a café and studied Google Maps on his phone while he ate a tasteless burger. Were there any corners of the Lakes Estate that he’d missed? He wasn’t sure if he’d covered Gorman Place on the edge of the estate.
As he drove back, he wondered why he was bothering to do this. Even if he found an old model of the right age the owner might have changed the number plates. The car hadn’t been seen on the ANPR cameras for some time. He pulled into Gorman Place and passed the parked cars before coming to a dead end. Hang on. There was a silver car tucked into the corner. His pulse increased. It was a Fiesta and the right age of car. The number plate was different but Paton parked up and walked around the vehicle.
The offside rear wheel arch was damaged – bodywork dented and paint scraped off. It didn’t look recent, judging by the ingrained dirt. Paton glanced about and, seeing no one, pulled his phone from his pocket and took a photograph.
Back in his car he called his team. ‘Tony, can you take another look at the Fiesta on the Paisley car showroom cameras. See if you can spot any damage to the off-side rear wheel arch. And check out this number plate.’ He gave Tony the details. ‘Cheers. Call me as soon as you can.’
He needed to find the local shops now to show the shop assistants the E-Fit of Trina. Where were the shops around here, though? He’d been driving around this estate for hours and he hadn’t seen any.
Chapter 57
The Following September | Grace
I pull a baggy grey jumper over my head and tug the hem down over my loose cotton trousers.
‘Mmmm, sexy,’ Mark teases, as he enters the bedroom.
I push his shoulder gently and laugh. ‘I’m not wearing decent clothes to work when I never know what I might be doing.’
I’m also trying to make myself look different from Lucy with her neatly-fitting, smart, designer labels and elegantly-styled, shiny blonde hair. I’d been thrilled when, on my first day as their cleaner, Jenna casually said her sister Lucy was calling in later and I’d held my breath as the back door opened and Lucy glided into the kitchen. She was everything I could have been and wanted to be. I’d hoped to experience a rush of emotion at finally having a sibling but all I felt was intimidated – by her confident walk, direct gaze and forthright questions.
I was fascinated to see we shared some common features – height, cupid’s bow lips, eye colour – and I was glad I’d had the foresight to dye my own blonde hair brown. With my frumpy clothes and subservient manner, the similarities faded into insignificance, and I’ve been able to maintain my charade as Grace the cleaner.
I’m not sure how I feel towards Lucy now. She’s not a warm person but she’s driven and knows what she wants out of life. I admire that, but I can’t help wondering how she’ll be with me when she finds out I’m her real sister. I can’t imagine her pulling me into an exuberant embrace or showing me affection. She doesn’t show Jenna any, and she thinks she’s her sister.
I look in the bedroom mirror and twist my hair into a knot on the back of my neck. Mark bends to kiss the exposed skin and I shiver with pleasure. I lean against him as he wraps his arms around me from behind. If I were a cat, I’d be purring.
‘I prefer you with blonde hair,’ Mark says. ‘I know you want a fresh start but do you have to dye it? Anyone would think you have something to hide.’ He laughs softly and I join in.
If only you knew. It’s been over seven months since Robert died and almost six months since Rosemary choked to death. I’m sure the police would have arrested me by now if they had any suspicions about me. Mum’s death was recorded as accidental, and even if the police track me to Milton Keynes they’d struggle to find me as there’s no trace left of Trina Hodges or Sarah Butcher. Rosemary’s house has been cleared and a new family lives there now. I’ve moved on too, and Mark and I are in a loving relationship.
‘I’m doing this for me,’ I tell him. ‘I don’t want to be anything like Sarah Butcher. I’m not Sarah Butcher. I’m Grace now, so let’s not mention Sarah’s name again.’
‘Do you have a passport in the name of Grace?’
I stare at Mark. ‘Er… no, I don’t. Why?’ I could ask Derek to get me one although I haven’t been in contact with him for months. Is Mark offering to take me on holiday?
‘I’ve been getting up the courage to tell you. I’ve been offered a two-year secondment to France. My company are setting up a branch over there. If I accept, will you come with me?’
My mind races through the implications. If I go to France it will be even harder for the police to find me. It would be a completely fresh start. But I need to be here with my mother, Fiona. She’s got very little time left and I want to spend every moment I can with her. I need to tell her who I am. I yearn for her to put her arms around me and kiss my forehead like she does Jenna’s.
‘When will you go? What about this house?’
‘I’ll go in around fo
ur weeks. If you come too, I’ll rent this place out. If you choose to stay, I’ll need you to cover the mortgage and bills as I’ll be renting over there and can’t afford to run two properties.’
I feel a rush of nausea. He’s abandoning me. He’s rejecting me like everyone else.
‘I can’t leave now. Fiona needs me.’
‘I’m sure you can find another care or cleaning job in France.’
‘I don’t speak French and I’m not just a cleaner. I’m training to be a Doulah.’ And you’ve just ignored me when I say Fiona needs me, as though anything I do for her doesn’t really matter.
‘You’ll soon pick up the language and your course is done online so you can finish it there. I can pay for everything until you get an income.’
‘I want to be independent.’ What if our relationship sours? I’ll have nothing. ‘I’ll think about it,’ I say.
What I really need is a share of what’s rightfully mine. Then I can be self-sufficient.
And I need to get rid of Jenna.
Chapter 58
The Previous May | DI Paton
Paton felt exhausted but he was determined to use every waking minute in trying to find Trina. After a rushed evening meal in the hotel, he sat at the desk in his room and logged on to HOLMES. He updated it, then checked his phone again. Disappointingly, there was no report from Tony and no text or missed call.
‘I was about to call you,’ Tony said when Paton rang him instead. ‘I’ve studied the images of the Fiesta on all available data and can’t see any damage to the wing. I’ve also checked the number plate and the vehicle has had the same owner for five years. The address matches the location where you discovered it.’
As Paton ended the call frustration draped itself like a wet overcoat around his shoulders but he shrugged it off again impatiently. Yes, he’d been pushed a step backwards in the investigation, but he’d just have to find a way to step forward again. He looked up Netherfield on Google Maps – the other place the ANPR cameras had recorded her. It was another sizeable estate, but this time he’d knock on doors and visit the local shops. At least it was laid out in a neat grid, unlike the higgledy-piggledy Lakes Estate. He’d make a list of the road names then cross them out as he visited them. He wished he had a couple of DCs to help but the police chiefs in his home area and Milton Keynes wouldn’t risk wasting money on what he had to admit was a long shot. The thing was that long shots sometimes paid off.
After a fractured night’s sleep Paton was first in the hotel restaurant for breakfast and on the road by seven, hoping to catch people at home before they left for work. He parked at one end of The Hide and began knocking on doors and showing the occupants the E-Fit of Trina. Most people were curious or bemused, some were dismissive and a minority were downright rude, but they all denied any knowledge of her. By mid-morning Paton’s feet were aching and his knuckles were sore from knocking.
A row of shops sat in the middle of the estate and Paton decided to try there next. He headed straight for the checkout of a mini-market and showed his ID card then the portrait.
A thin woman, whose black hair and grey roots resembled a badger’s, peered at it and didn’t let it go. Paton’s hopes began to rise as she squinted at it.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said eventually. ‘Doris. Come and look at this.’
A woman in a bleach-stained blue overall emerged from the shelf racks. A queue was beginning to form at the till but people were too caught up in the drama to complain.
‘Have you seen this girl around here? I can’t decide,’ the badger-haired woman said.
‘What’s she done?’ The second woman gave Paton a direct stare.
‘Have you seen her around?’
‘Possibly. Not with blonde hair though. More brown?’ She stared at the photo for ages. ‘Nah, I dunno who she is.’ She shrugged and walked back to the box she was unpacking.
The people in the queue exhaled with disappointment and Paton left the shop before he let his irritation boil over. He really thought he’d found her then. Had she dyed her hair? Maybe he’d have more luck in the kebab shop next door.
The man behind the counter looked sweaty and unkempt. Paton didn’t think he’d bother with a kebab for lunch.
‘Are you the owner?’
‘I am. Who’s asking?’
Paton showed the man his ID and the picture of Trina and watched his face carefully. The man thrust the picture back at Paton.
‘Never seen her before.’
‘Are you sure?’ Paton hadn’t imagined that sudden widening of the eyes.
‘Calling me a liar?’ The man glared at Paton who gave him the picture again. ‘Take another look. She may have dyed her hair brown.’
‘Nope.’ The man turned away after the merest glance and opened the fridge, avoiding Paton’s gaze.
Paton was convinced the man knew her, but why was he protecting her? Or was he protecting himself? Maybe he gave her a job but paid her in cash to cut out the tax man. Jesus. No wonder the country was on its knees. Paton left the shop reluctantly.
Loud music blared from a block of flats as he moved along the street and his knocking at the first house went unheard. He’d have to come back later. He crossed the road and started at the other end of the row of terraces. By the fourth one he was almost ready to give up and go home. No one was answering. He rattled the letterbox at the next house and immediately a large dog started barking. Paton liked dogs but he was always wary. Some criminals used them as a shield or weapon, and, as the door opened, he instinctively took a step back, covering his crotch with his folder.
A ferret-faced man with dark greasy hair was clutching the collar of a huge Alsatian dog. ‘I’ve got a TV licence and I’ve paid my rent,’ the man said in a nasally voice. ‘I don’t want double glazing and I’m not voting for you.’
‘I’m—’
‘And I don’t believe in God.’ The man stepped back and began to shut the door.
‘I’m Detective Inspector Paton. I need to ask you a couple of questions.’
The man froze when he saw Paton’s ID card then his tone changed. ‘Sorry, we get a lot of cold callers, and if I don’t see them off they keep calling and making Rex bark.’
Paton took the E-Fit portrait from his folder, keeping one eye on Rex who was staring fixedly at him. He showed the portrait to the man and watched his face carefully for even the slightest reaction. ‘Have you seen this woman?’
The man frowned. ‘What’s she done?’ he asked, then avoided Paton’s scrutiny by bending down to ruffle his dog’s neck. ‘Stop pulling, Rex, good lad.’
‘Do you know her?’ Paton’s inner radar was humming again. The dog was standing quietly.
‘No, I don’t. Sorry.’ He seemed to have composed himself because he looked Paton straight in the eye. ‘Anything else you want to ask?’
‘What’s your name?’
The man hesitated then said, ‘Derek.’ He paused and Paton waited. ‘Derek Fleetwood,’ the man added reluctantly.
.
Chapter 59
The Following September | Grace
The surface of the lake creases as another gust of wind blows in from the north. I pull my jacket across my chest and tie the belt more firmly. Maybe this wasn’t such a great place to meet but I don’t want to be seen with Derek. I glance at my watch. He’s late and I feel irritated but I’ve no choice other than to keep waiting. I need to get a passport organised.
I don’t want to go abroad, but unless I move in with Fiona I can’t see an alternative. I can’t afford to pay Mark’s mortgage and I’ve nowhere else to go. I’d psyched myself up to tell Fiona the truth about me this morning but Jenna didn’t go riding because of the rain, damn her. I’ve checked the weather and it should be sunny tomorrow so I hope I’ll have another chance to speak to Fiona and then perhaps she’ll let me use the spare room. Her needs are increasing daily and it won’t be long before she has to have help in the night. I want to be with her.
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sp; Whenever I think about the little time we have left together it’s as though a knife is twisting in my gut. I want to stand and yell at the sky, berating the God and heavens I don’t really believe in, because not only was my childhood stolen from me, my real father has already been taken and my mother will soon follow. The injustice of it all is unbearable. Every time I stumble across a picture of my father I linger and absorb every detail. Every time someone mentions him I hang on their every word and yearn for him. I’ll never feel his warm arms around me, have him ruffle my hair, hear him say he’s proud of me. I could have done so much with a decent education, love and encouragement. I might have been a lawyer, doctor or CEO of a big company. I could have risen to the top of a profession. Instead, I’ve worked in supermarkets and greasy kebab shops.
I sit on a deserted bench and stare out across the lake, wishing I could turn back the clock. If I hadn’t gone to Manchester, my mother would have found me. I’d have met my father and got to know them both as happy, healthy parents.
I see Derek long before he spots me. He leans into the wind with hunched shoulders and scurries like a cockroach looking for somewhere to hide. He glances up and sees me but looks away again and I’m surprised not to receive his usual creepy smile.
‘Crikey. I hardly recognised you with brown hair,’ he says. ‘Where did you disappear to? I haven’t seen you for months.’
He sits on the bench next to me and rubs his hands together. He looks as cold as I feel.
‘Lovely to see you, Derek. How have you been?’ I say.
‘You didn’t tell me I had to pay for the car park. Lucky I spotted the sign as I got to the lake. Someone at the pay machine told me they got fined last week.’ He begins to relax now he’s got his gripes off his chest. ‘Are you still in Milton Keynes?’
‘Not far from here.’