The Cottage

by Lisa Stone

  Jan Hamlin, the tenant in Ivy Cottage, had reported intruders in her garden again. But last night, ignoring advice to stay indoors, she’d gone to investigate and had seen a van leaving Coleshaw Woods. She’d noted the registration number and had told the officer she believed the owner was somehow linked to the intruders coming onto her property. Uniform had run the registration number through the police computer and had identified the owner, but that was as far as they’d got last night. The matter had been passed to Beth and she was struggling to understand exactly what it meant.

  Anne Long was the registered owner of the van – the same Anne Long, midwife, Beth had interviewed in connection with missing babies. While the previous enquiry was closed – there’d been a satisfactory explanation – whatever had Anne been doing in Coleshaw Woods late at night in the middle of winter? And on many other occasions, if Jan Hamlin was to be believed. According to Ms Hamlin, she’d heard Anne calling some creatures that were getting into the garden and terrorizing her. She’d refused to accept they could be foxes or badgers and was so distressed by what she’d seen that she’d given notice on her tenancy agreement and was ready to leave. When Matt had previously visited her he’d said she didn’t seem hysterical or given to flights of fantasy, and it seemed that something was getting into the garden. Perhaps there was a rational explanation for all of this, Beth thought, but what it could be escaped her.

  She glanced at the office clock. It was 11.30 a.m. and she’d been working since 5 a.m., up since 4 a.m., for the raid on the Bates house. Time to go home, and on the way she’d stop off and visit Anne Long. Closing down her computer, Beth took her jacket from the back of her chair and crossed the near-empty office. There were only a few officers in on a Saturday.

  She left the building by the back exit where the cars were kept and got into the unmarked police car assigned to her. Mulling over possible scenarios for Anne being in the woods, Beth drove up the high street, heading in the direction of Melton. Some of the shop windows were already decorated for Christmas, but Beth’s thoughts didn’t mirror their festiveness. There was something disquieting about Anne Long being in the woods late at night following the previous investigation into missing babies. She dearly hoped she was wrong, but Anne wouldn’t be the first nurse to suffer from psychosis and use her position to do harm rather than good to others.

  Beth gave the Christmas tree standing in the market square at Melton a cursory glance as she drove past and then, with a growing sense of unease, turned into Dells Lane. Her satnav showed that Number 45 was at the far end on the right. There was no van parked on the driveway, nor any sign of the other car registered to Anne – a grey Vauxhall Corsa. Perhaps one of them was in the garage; it wasn’t large enough to take two vehicles. Beth got out and glanced at the sky. Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon and storms were forecast for the weekend. She rang the doorbell to Number 45 and waited. No one answered. She tried again, knocked on the door, then looked through the letterbox, but a security hood blocked her view.

  She returned up the drive and then went next door to Number 43. A woman in a dressing gown answered the bell.

  ‘Sorry to trouble you. Detective Constable Beth Mayes,’ Beth said, showing her ID. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, but do you know when your neighbour Anne Long will be at home? I would like to talk to her as part of a routine enquiry.’

  ‘If she’s not there she’s most likely at work. She’s a midwife and doesn’t keep regular hours. If she’s late back, she goes straight out again to walk her dogs. Someone else was asking about her and my husband told him the same thing.’

  ‘Who? Do you know?’

  ‘No, just said he was a friend of hers.’

  ‘And Anne keeps dogs?’

  ‘Yes, dangerous ones that have to be kept on a tight leash. She can only take them out at night when there’s no one else around. Goodness knows why she bothers with them. I wouldn’t go to all that trouble.’

  ‘No, indeed,’ Beth said. ‘That’s very helpful. Do you know what breed of dog they are?’

  ‘No, never seen them. We stay well away. You could try phoning her mobile,’ she added helpfully. ‘Do you have her number?’

  ‘Yes, I do. Does Anne have a navy van here?’

  ‘Yes, it’ll be in the garage if she’s at work. She uses it when she takes the dogs out, which keeps her other car nice for work.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Beth said, and returned to her car.

  The mystery was solved. Anne had dangerous dogs and sensibly walked them at night when there was no one else around. It made sense, but that wasn’t the end of it. The Dangerous Dogs Act made it illegal for any dog – regardless of its breed – to be out of control, which clearly Anne’s were. It must have been the dogs that had been going into the garden of Ivy Cottage and terrorizing the tenant. Anne would need to be spoken to and warned that in future her dogs had to be kept on a lead in any public space. However, that wasn’t a matter for CID and Beth would pass it back to uniform to deal with. Satisfied, she headed for home as large drops of rain began splattering on the windscreen.

  FIFTY-NINE

  Ian sat at the dining table staring at his laptop, angry and upset. He was at home and Emma had gone to her mother’s for the day, which was just as well for he was struggling to hide his feelings. He wouldn’t have believed what Anne had told him had he not seen David with his own eyes.

  Atavism. When DNA from our evolutionary past reappeared in the present generation. He’d been reading about it on the Internet. It happened naturally sometimes when a gene mutated, but in David’s case it was because of Carstan Moller’s obsessive need to continue his line. How dare he mess with people’s lives. The arrogance of the man! How much Edie Moller knew Anne hadn’t been sure, but felt she probably knew and turned a blind eye to what he was doing.

  Ian hadn’t told Emma what he’d discovered, and he wouldn’t. He’d said he’d seen Anne and she’d confirmed that errors had occurred at the Moller Clinic resulting in too many patients sharing the same donor and babies not surviving. It was all Emma needed to know, now or in the future. They’d agreed that soon they’d have to start making plans to separate, for now they knew they were half brother and sister, a future together was impossible.

  Ian’s anger flared again. Moller had played with the lives of his patients, manipulating and deceiving them for years for his own ends. He had told Anne he had stopped, but Ian wasn’t so sure. There’d been no evidence of other donors in the files he had seen. Ian needed to be certain his evil practice had stopped for good, but in a way that didn’t expose David or others like him that might follow. Ian thought he knew how.

  He was studying Moller’s files on his laptop. Not those relating to his patients, but his accounts, including tax returns, which it seemed Edie Moller had been responsible for. The accounts were in a mess, much like all her other filing, but it was clear that the Mollers hadn’t made huge sums from the clinic. But then that was probably part of his strategy, Ian thought: keep the fees low to attract as many clients as possible so he could spread his genes far afield. Ian was aware that the quickest, most efficient way to close down a business was as a result of tax evasion and money laundering. HM Revenue & Customs were fast and relentless in their pursuit of offenders.

  He set to work. Posing as Moller, Ian began raising capital online using Moller’s business and house as collateral. It was ridiculously easy on the Internet, with no face-to-face interview. He electronically signed documents and raised as much as he was allowed from various banks and loan companies. It had increased the clinic’s income tenfold – on paper at least – and Ian then introduced two fictitious employees. It was a scam firms used to reduce their tax bill – illegal, of course, but it added another layer of fraud to Moller’s accounts.

  Ian then set up five offshore accounts in countries that were notorious for tax evasion and money laundering. He’d seen similar on clients’ computers and knew how they worked. Ian spent a productive hour tran
sferring money out of Moller’s UK accounts and in and out of the various offshore accounts, backdating some of the transactions so it appeared he’d been up to no good for years. Working in information technology at Wetherby Security had taught Ian a lot, and by the time he finished, Moller’s accounts shouted money laundering and tax evasion to even the most inexperienced clerk. But just to make sure they weren’t missed, and to get an investigation going quickly, he emailed the police fraud department and Revenue & Customs anonymously, whistleblowing on Moller.

  Last but not least, Ian sent an email from Carstan Moller to all his current patients and those whose parents had been treated at the clinic. It informed them that there’d been a dreadful mistake at the clinic and if they were planning on starting a family, they should have their DNA tested as a matter of urgency, as it was possible they might share the same biological father as their partner.

  All Ian could do now was watch and wait.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  Almost immediately, patients began emailing Moller expressing their shock and concern, and asking for more details about the exact nature of the error that had occurred and if they should be worried.

  Yes, Ian replied on Moller’s behalf, you should be very worried indeed. Get checked straight away.

  Some asked where they could be tested and Ian sent them details of the firm he’d used – MyGeneticHistory.com.

  The emails continued to arrive and Ian wondered what Moller was making of it, or perhaps he didn’t check emails on a Saturday, enjoying the weekend off, for there was no reply from him. Was he in for a shock on Monday morning!

  An email arrived from Grant and Chelsea Ryan threatening to sue Moller for every penny he’d got, which wouldn’t be a lot by the time the fraud squad and HMRC had finished with him, Ian thought with satisfaction. Now heavily mortgaged and with huge debts, Moller would be bankrupt once the fraud squad got hold of him. Sweet revenge. Ian was destroying Moller’s life just as he had destroyed his and Emma’s, and all the others he’d deceived. Moller had played God and lost.

  SIXTY

  Jan stood to the right of the living-room window, partially secreted behind the curtain, and stared into the night. The rain had stopped but the sky was dark as fresh storm clouds gathered. She was still hoping the creatures would return. The motion-sensor light outside was off and she had her phone ready. One final chance to get the film she so desperately needed before Camile arrived. But the opportunity was quickly receding. It was after 8 p.m. now and Camile would be here before long. She’d texted from the airport to say her plane had landed and she should be with her by 8.30, depending on the traffic.

  Jan had taken up her position at the window as soon as night had fallen, waiting and hoping they might come early. She was already packed and her cases were in her car. Just her coat and handbag remained in the cottage. She’d gone into the village earlier and bought some basic food items for Camile, and flowers to say thank you and sorry, which she’d put in a vase on the coffee table. She’d said goodbye to Lillian, who hadn’t appeared surprised to hear she was leaving. Camile had told Chris, who’d told his brother, who’d passed it on to Lillian. That was how news travelled in the village: a grapevine of conversations, as efficient as email or text.

  Jan shifted position and continued to keep watch. Surprisingly, Camile had already found another tenant who would move in as soon as Jan had left, which eased Jan’s conscience. Camile was coming back to oversee the changeover, spend a few days with her family and Tinder, and then return to her job abroad. Heaven help the new tenant, Jan thought. They would need to be made of strong stuff to live here. Nothing would have enticed her to stay.

  Jan had arranged to lodge with her mother for a few weeks while she applied for jobs and looked for a flat to rent. She would also spend a weekend with Ruby and catch up with other friends she’d neglected while she’d been here. Maybe even make a proper start on that book she was supposed to be writing. She had a few ideas, and if she could get a film or photograph, she would also write a feature article about the creatures in the woods. Newspapers and magazines were always keen to buy pieces about the weird and supernatural.

  The front doorbell rang and Tinder shot off the sofa and ran to the front door, barking. Jan came out from where she’d been standing and switched on the living-room light. Tinder would be as pleased to see Camile as she was, she thought, and opened the door.

  It wasn’t Camile, but Chris.

  ‘I wanted to say goodbye,’ he said, and handed her a box of chocolates.

  ‘Oh, OK, thanks,’ she said awkwardly. She hadn’t expected to see him again.

  ‘Do you want to come in?’ she offered, feeling she should. ‘Camile will be here soon.’

  ‘Yes, if I’m not disturbing you.’

  She stood aside to let him in and he headed to the living room.

  ‘You’ve got the curtains open,’ he remarked. ‘I didn’t think you liked seeing the dark.’

  She shrugged. ‘I’m getting better. I’ve had to, living here. Do you want a drink?’ she asked, putting the chocolates on the table.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘Scotch?’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Chris sat in his usual armchair and Tinder went to him. Jan poured his drink and handed it to him.

  ‘Aren’t you joining me?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I’ll be driving soon.’

  She sat on the sofa, her back to the open curtains, as Chris took a sip of his drink. This would be her last chance to challenge him about the video he’d removed from her phone, for as soon as Camile arrived she would leave.

  She took a breath and looked at him. ‘Chris, why did you delete the video from my phone?’

  A brief flash of discomposure and then he recovered. ‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ he said.

  ‘The video clip I took of what was coming into the garden. I showed you, then left my phone down here while I went upstairs to let Tinder out of the bedroom. After you’d gone, I found it had been erased. You knew that was the only proof I had.’

  He briefly met her gaze, but his look was guarded. ‘I remember you showing me the video, but that’s all. Perhaps I accidentally deleted it.’

  She was about to say that was highly unlikely when the doorbell rang again. Tinder shot down the hall.

  ‘That’ll be Camile,’ Chris said.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Jan said tartly, and went to answer the door.

  ‘Hi, we meet at last,’ Camile said warmly, coming in. She hugged Jan and then petted Tinder as he jumped up at her excitedly.

  The likeness between her and Chris that Jan had seen in the photographs was even more obvious in person.

  ‘Welcome home,’ Jan said. ‘Chris is here.’

  ‘Yes, I saw his car outside. I texted him to say I was on my way back.’

  Setting her case down in the hall, Camile went through to the living room with Tinder close beside her. Jan followed.

  ‘Hi, love,’ Chris said, and he stood to greet her. They hugged with great affection.

  ‘I could do with one of those,’ Camile said, referring to Chris’s Scotch. ‘I’m knackered after all the travelling.’

  ‘How do you like it?’ Jan asked.

  ‘Same as Chris, please.’

  Jan went into the kitchen and poured the Scotch, feeling slightly uncomfortable at playing hostess in what was Camile’s home again. Returning to the living room, she handed her the glass.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she said appreciatively. ‘Those flowers are gorgeous. Don’t forget to take them with you.’

  ‘They’re for you,’ Jan replied. ‘I put them in water to stop them from wilting.’

  ‘That is kind.’ Camile seemed as pleasant in person as she had been in her emails and Jan couldn’t help but like her.

  ‘I’ve put bread and milk in the fridge,’ Jan said. ‘And I’ve topped up the meter. The spare change is in its usual place in the cupboard under the stairs, and here are th
e front door keys.’ She placed them on the coffee table and prepared to leave.

  ‘Thank you,’ Camile said. ‘Sorry I couldn’t get here earlier. You’ve got a long journey. Why don’t you stay tonight and then drive home tomorrow?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ Jan said, and instinctively glanced towards the open curtains.

  Camile followed her gaze. ‘I am sorry you’ve had problems with the creatures from the woods coming in. They wouldn’t have harmed you, but it must have been annoying just the same.’

  ‘Chris doesn’t believe they exist,’ Jan said, and waited for their reaction.

  Camile sipped her drink while Chris concentrated on his glass. Neither of them spoke.

  ‘Goodbye then, thanks for everything,’ Jan said, and she picked up her handbag.

  ‘I’ll see you to your car,’ Chris said.

  ‘There’s no need. I’ll just say goodbye to Tinder before I go.’

  Jan went to stroke him, but as she did he let out a low, threatening growl. She instinctively stepped back. Still growling, he gave a bark and ran to the patio window. Jan’s heart missed a beat. It wasn’t her he was growling at. He’d heard something. Were they out there? Had they come after all? It was the time they often came. Chris and Camile were looking at the window too.

  ‘I’ll close the curtains,’ Camile said, and stood.

  But as she crossed the room a face appeared at the glass. Jan let out a small cry and delved into her bag for her phone. Too late. The face had gone. She rushed to the back door with Tinder at her heels and opened it. He ran down the garden barking and Jan caught a glimpse of the shadowy figure before it disappeared through the hedge and was gone.