Her Silent Obsession: An addictive and gripping crime thriller (Detective Arla Baker Series Book 6)

by ML Rose

  “What did you find?”

  Arla filled him in. “Sooner or later, we need to involve uniformed officers to help with the search of the Common and the woods behind their house. We also need Scene of Crime.” She lifted both hands in the air. “But she wants me to keep it just to my team.”

  Johnson pressed his lips together and rolled them inward. He rubbed his large, bearlike paws on the table. “Well, given who she is, privacy is paramount.”

  “You mean, given that she’s a personal friend of Mr Cummings. The man who controls 30 per cent of our funding.”

  Johnson snapped his teeth together and his jaws hardened. “That’s enough, Arla. This is a police case now and you just need to do your job.”

  “Do my job? How on earth am I supposed to search all that area with four officers? And if we do involve the uniforms, we can’t exactly keep it a secret from them. We need to tell them what to look for. And what about forensics? Dr Banerjee?”

  Johnson sagged, the tension dissipating from him like air from a deflating balloon. A wariness rippled across his face as his eyelids snapped shut.

  “Okay. I’ll try and speak to the family. Just do the best you can, for now.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Arla took the elevator down to the ground floor and trudged slowly back to her office. At the back of her mind suspicion battled with a sense of paranoia. By appointing Justin as her successor, was the South London Command trying to get rid of her?

  She knew the department might well look very different by the time she returned from her maternity leave. She sat down at her table and let out a frustrated sigh. Well, she would show them. Her current case was a high-profile one. She had solved cases involving well-known political figures and actors, and she knew how to deal with the media’s full glare. She shook her head in disbelief. Justin simply didn’t have the same amount or quality of experience she possessed. And yet. . . .

  Her office door clicked open and Harry poked his head in, then entered. He shut the door, then leaned his long frame against the wall. He scrutinised her face for a few seconds in silence.

  “Rob told me. No, I didn’t know either.”

  Arla glanced up at him, then nodded. Harry wasn’t a big fan of Justin Beauregard either. His lips curled upward in distaste. “He’s wormed his way into the affections of South London Command.”

  “Exactly what I thought. He’s a yes boy, and he won’t mind bending the rules for them.”

  Arla held Harry’s eyes for a second. His normally melting chestnut browns were flat and cold. She knew what he was thinking. The hint of corruption within police ranks was nothing new. With the new monitoring and regulation all police departments had to carry out, corruption was all but stamped out. But occasionally, a waft of it floated in, like the stench from a dying carcass. Harry didn’t have to say anything. Neither did she. But from the firm set of Harry’s lips, she knew what they had to do.

  “We can’t go public with the case as yet. But the clock is ticking. We need concrete leads by the end of today. Bring Lisa, Rob, and Roslyn in here.”

  When Harry left, Arla glanced at the stack of paperwork to her left, in her in-tray. She was still the on-call SIO for the week, but thankfully, her pile hadn’t grown any larger.

  The team strode in and she was glad to see Lisa with four cups of steaming coffee. Lisa knew exactly how Arla liked it and set the mug down next to her laptop with a grin.

  “Thanks.” Arla winked at her. She loved her mocha, calories be damned. She was definitely going on a diet after the baby arrived.

  She took a sip from the scalding cup, then flipped open her black notebook. Harry locked the door. Arla stared at Rob, Roslyn, and Lisa.

  “What we discuss now stays in these four walls. There’s no police crime notice on this case as yet. You cannot provide an explanation to anyone who asks what you’re doing. Is that clear?”

  The three detective sergeants looked at each other. From the bemused look on their faces, Arla could see her comments were as clear as mud.

  Roslyn said, “Without a PCN, how can we open an investigation?”

  “Good question. This is departmental oversight. The order comes from above me. We have to be discreet, till I get the permission to open formal proceedings.” She placed her hands on the desk and leaned forward. “Before then, if any word leaks out, it will be from the people present in this room. Hence, I need your word that this remains confidential.”

  Everyone nodded and Arla made sure she met their eyes, noting their confirmation. She took them through what she had found so far and the people involved. There was pin-drop silence in the room as the detectives listened to her with rapt attention.

  When Arla finished, Lisa whistled. “Rebecca Stone? She’s got, like, a million Instagram followers!”

  “And she posts ten times a week,” Roslyn added.

  Arla lifted her shoulders slightly. “If you check the posts from the last six weeks, you won’t see a great deal Yes, she did post after childbirth, posing with her new baby. But after the first week, the photos stopped.”

  “You mean since the baby’s birth.”

  “His name is Reginald Stone.” Arla glanced at Harry. “Has the family registered the name yet?”

  Harry shook his head. “We haven’t spoken to the father as yet. But when I checked the birth and death register, there was nothing on file with that name or date of birth.”

  “Good. That’s one less angle for an inquisitive journalist to prod into.”

  Lisa spoke up. “She must’ve been posting photos of her baby bump. And then of the new baby for the first week, as you said. Don’t her followers want to see more?”

  Arla scrolled through her Instagram feed. “It doesn’t look like it. She got loads of comments and likes for the baby posts, but when they tailed off, I guess there are thousands of other Instagram celebrities who took over.”

  “Yeah,” Harry said. He was still leaning against the doorframe. “Instagram users probably have the memory of a goldfish. No dearth of new photos in their feeds.”

  Arla rose and walked the few steps to the window behind her desk. A small, portable whiteboard stood there. She picked up a marker pen and wrote the number one on the board, then circled it.

  “CCTV footage of the man in the parka observing Rebecca’s house. The same guy took a bus from the station near her house.”

  “Got that, guv,” Rob said, scribbling on his pad. “I know that area. There should be cameras leading into the street and coming out.”

  “Good. Let’s get those camera feeds and have them analysed by the end of today.”

  Arla wrote a two on the whiteboard.

  “Jeremy Stone. I want to know why he had to go for his run when we were about to arrive. It seemed as if he was trying to avoid us. Either Harry or I will take a full statement from him as soon as he gets in touch. But can you please look into his background. Go all the way back to his childhood, school, and university days. Find out about his relationship with his uncle.”

  “His uncle being Grant Stone, the rock star,” Harry added.

  Roslyn gasped. “The Grant Stone?” Arla nodded in silence as Roslyn gaped at her. The DS whistled. “Oh my god, guv, I’m such a big fan. Got a Spotify playlist just with his songs!”

  Lisa and Rob chuckled. Lisa said, “I must say, I’m a fan too. Went to see him in concert once, many years ago.”

  “In Wembley Arena?” Roslyn asked.

  “Yes. September 2005.”

  Roslyn’s mouth formed a near perfect O as her eyebrows hiked north. “Oh my God, I was there!”

  Lisa laughed. “No way. Great concert, huh?”

  Roslyn held up a hand, then waved it in the air. Excitement bubbled in her voice. “My goodness, that man is sex on legs. Did you see those dance moves? Just wow.”

  Arla laughed too, then tapped the table with her finger. “Can we get back on the case, please, ladies? I don’t think Grant Stone will be happy with us if we don’t solv
e this case soon.”

  Smiles faded from Roslyn and Lisa’s lips as they sat straighter in their chairs and faced Arla. She pursed her lips and furrowed her brows in concentration as she slowly wrote down the number three on the board and circled it.

  “Rebecca Stone. Dig up her childhood and her previous social life. I want to know about school friends, her life in college, what jobs she got and with who. Details about her previous relationships before she met Jeremy Stone.”

  Lisa looked up from scribbling on her notepad. “Guv, you’re casting the net wide now. This will take more than three of us to get through.”

  Rob said, “Or it will take three of us longer.”

  Arla blinked. Harry said, “They’ve got a point. We can’t run this investigation on skeleton staff and expect a miracle.”

  Arla laid the palms of both hands on her bump. “I know that, Harry,” she said briskly. “But you and I will help as well.” She pointed to the stack of papers on her desk. “I’m going to hand over the on-call SIO role to someone of Johnson’s choice. It might well be Justin, but so be it. This takes priority now.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Harry hooked his eyebrows northward. “After what we just heard about Justin?”

  “Yes, I know. But it seems they have taken the decision already. Handing this over to Justin might give him an ego boost, but in practical terms, it also helps him to get ready for the task ahead. Plus, it saves me valuable time.”

  Lisa’s eyes slid from Arla to Harry. “What about Justin, guv? You mean DI Beauregard, right?”

  Arla caught Rob’s attention. His eyes snapped shut once as he shook his head. She smiled lightly, aware that Rob had kept his mouth shut about Justin. She turned to Lisa and told her.

  Her team remained silent. Arla read the look in their eyes. It was a combination of excitement and anxiety. They were eager to start searching for Rebecca’s missing baby, but they were also concerned for her and their future.

  Arla walked to a table, and closer to them. She spoke softly. “I suspect Johnson has given me this case to prove something. I’m not sure why, and let’s not worry about that for the time being. Let’s get cracking.”

  She pointed a polished red fingernail towards Rob. “CCTV images, please. We need to show Rebecca and try to get an ID as soon as possible.”

  Harry stood straight and stretched his long spine, then flexed both shoulders. He seemed taller when he did that and Arla couldn’t help but glance at him, distracted.

  “Don’t forget the CCTV footage from the cameras at the house. We need to speak to Rebecca or her husband about it,” Harry said.

  She flashed him a smile. The corners of his eyes crinkled and he tucked his lips inwards and she knew the handsome devil had been saving the best for last. Her chin jutted out and she stabbed a finger in his direction. “You’re hoping to get a visual of the intruder, aren’t you?”

  Harry put both hands on his waist and feigned innocence. “I was just wondering why the famous DCI Baker was missing the most obvious lead.”

  She frowned at him. “I wasn’t missing anything, Harry, just testing you.”

  Someone laughed and Arla looked at the three detective sergeants who were grinning at them. In the early days, when she kept her relationship with Harry a secret, the smiles were missing but the whispers did their rounds. It was so different now. She was expecting Harry’s baby, and while they wouldn’t be the first department couple, they had certainly attracted the most attention. It wasn’t often that the DCI started a relationship with her trusted DI sidekick.

  “Well, you all know your jobs,” Arla said, fighting a grin herself. “Let’s get this ball rolling.”

  Her desk phone rang. It was the switchboard. “DCI Baker?”

  “Speaking.”

  “There’s a Rebecca Stone on the line for you.”

  “Put her through, please, thanks.”

  Arla cupped the receiver and mouthed Rebecca’s name to her team. “Hello?”

  “Hi. Is that Detective Baker?” The female voice was low and despondent.

  “Yes,” Arla said. “Hello Rebecca.”

  “My husband just came back. You told me to call you when he did?”

  CHAPTER 13

  Rhys Mason watched from his vantage point, sheltered by the dense, snow-laden trees of the Common. He had a clear view of the Stone residence from here, and every time a curtain twitched, he used a binocular to watch the window.

  Several times already, he’d caught sight of Rebecca peering out, staring up and down the road and then straight at the plot of trees in the Common.

  Once, he was sure, her eyes fell on him. Breath caught in his lungs as his fingers shook. Her gaze was intent, focused. Had she caught a movement that he made? He knew even the slightest movement caught attention so he took great care to remain absolutely still.

  How could he ever forget those luminous sea green eyes? Eyes that enveloped his soul like the warm waters on a tropical beach.

  Once, those exotic eyes held him captive. Heck, they still did as she stared in his direction now. They pierced like arrows through the orderly symmetry of his mind, bullets smashing into his skull. His breath quickened and beads of moisture appeared on his forehead. The binocular trembled in his hand, distorting his view. But he couldn’t pull himself away. Mercifully, after a few seconds, she turned away from the window.

  Gasping, he lowered the binocular and raked his gaze over the remaining windows and the front door. She didn’t appear in any of them. She was inside, walking around alone in the halls of her gilded prison.

  Rhys lowered his head. He was wearing a padded white pullover that blended in with the snow and his white parka on top. He sat on the fallen branch of a tree like he normally did, his back to a trunk.

  Memories surged up from a black hole inside his heart, besmirching his mind with amniotic, inky poison. Once, he had thought Rebecca would set him free. And he would do the same to her. But it was not to be. He knew he only had himself to blame, but he had tried to redeem himself.

  He couldn’t control his urges, his fervent desires. Society regarded them as wrong, but what the hell did society know?

  The normal people, busy with their nine-to-five jobs, mortgages, and bills, safely packaged and wrapped in their lives to be lowered into a grave one day. They would never understand. For a while, he knew that Rebecca did. She understood why he indulged his desires. But ultimately, she had turned her back on him, just like the rest of them.

  His jaws flexed as his eyes snapped open. The hardened, calloused brown bark of a tree trunk caught his eyes. He wanted to smack it with a gloved fist but couldn’t risk the movement. He glared at it for a few seconds, breathing heavily. The moment passed. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

  That look on Rebecca’s face as she stared out the window. The wide eyes. The sunken cheeks. Hollow and emaciated, with eyeballs sunk deep into the sockets. She was scared. Well, she had made him suffer, and now it was her turn. His plan was working. He didn’t want to do this, but she hadn’t left him with a choice. She had flown from him and taken refuge in Jeremy Stone’s gold-barred prison. He would prise out those bars one by one and set her free again. She would know his power. What he was capable of.

  A black BMW floated into his view, coming to a stop near the house. His eyebrows lowered and met in the centre of his forehead. He had seen the car earlier this morning. And just like this morning, a tall, wide-shouldered man and a pregnant woman got out of the car.

  The woman stood still for a while, staring at the Common. She looked up, down, and sideways, and then she leaned forward, as if trying to peer through the shadows. Rhys knew she couldn’t see him as he was too far back, sheltered by heavy undergrowth. But it still unnerved him.

  The woman was attractive, even though her nose was angular, a bit too big for her face. Her wide mouth, large eyes, and high cheekbones made up for the nose. She tossed her dark, shoulder-length hair back as the tall man, wearing a g
rey overcoat, stepped alongside her. He leaned over and murmured something in her ear. She didn’t seem to pay him any attention and continued to scrutinise the silent, frozen woods. Presently, she turned and, grasping the man’s elbow, walked slowly towards the house.

  Rhys raised the binoculars to his eyes again. He took down the registration number of the BMW. The man and woman went inside, let in by the housekeeper. Taking off his gloves, Rhys blew on his frozen fingers, flexed them. He took out his phone to enter the registration number onto the DVLA website. His suspicions were correct. The car belonged to the London Metropolitan Police Service. The smile on his face grew wider. Everything was falling into place. The couple who had just entered the house were the detectives. And the female detective was pregnant. A lucky coincidence indeed.

  CHAPTER 14

  Arla and Harry waited in the same lounge room, to the left of the entrance hallway. Arla looked out the large bay windows to the snow-covered street outside. A couple walked past, both of them admiring the house. Edna Mildred got cups of tea for them this time without Arla or Harry requesting them. The elderly lady smiled as she put the tray down on the long, rectangular table.

  “Mr Stone will be down shortly. Please help yourselves.”

  “This wasn’t necessary,” Arla said, eyeing the chocolate biscuits with longing.

  “It’s perfectly all right. You need to keep your strength up.”

  Arla couldn’t agree more. She had consumed two biscuits and half her cup of tea by the time the door opened and Jeremy Stone walked in. He was much shorter than she had expected. He wore square-framed glasses and his head was balding. She put his age in the late thirties to early forties.

  There was a two-day stubble on his cheeks, and his figure was trim and athletic. He came forward and Harry shook his hand, then Arla stood to do the same.

  A pair of dark blue eyes searched her face from behind thick glasses. Not a handsome man, she thought to herself, not even good-looking. With his tweed trousers and dark brown sweater, he was a stark contrast to the understated glamour his wife possessed. She was almost a foot taller than him as well.