The Shape of Lies: New from the queen of psychological thrillers

by Rachel Abbott

  I watched him for a moment, his eyes dancing as he leaned forward towards his enthralled listeners, and I envied his confidence and ease. I couldn’t break into this circle, though, and I was about to turn to leave when I heard him shout above the rowdy students, ‘Anna? Come and join us.’

  I was staggered that he remembered me, not knowing back then that one of Cameron’s specialities was never forgetting a face and a name. I didn’t want to join them in spite of his welcoming grin; what I needed to say to Cameron had to be said in private.

  He must have noticed my hesitation, because he said something quietly to Jagger, who got up from the table and came towards me, his pinched features showing no expression. He seemed an unlikely friend for Cameron, who exuded charm and self-assurance and appeared to have a smile for everyone.

  ‘You here for a drink, Anna, or is it business?’ Jagger had a scratchy voice that seemed too deep for his lean body.

  ‘I…’ I didn’t know what to say. I looked wildly around me, as if someone was going to come to my rescue.

  ‘Okay, come with me.’

  It seemed I didn’t need to say any more. Jagger nodded at the barman, who gave him a solemn nod in return, and we walked through a door at the side of the bar into a small dark storeroom with a table and two chairs in the centre.

  ‘Sit,’ he said.

  I was wishing I hadn’t come and was about to tell Jagger it was a mistake when the door opened again and Cameron strode in. My tension eased as he smiled at me.

  ‘Sorry about this grotty little room, Anna, but we got the impression you’d rather talk in private than in front of the others. You look worried, but don’t be. We’re all friends here. What can I do for you?’

  It was kind of him to understand. He was trying to make it easier for me. I wanted to come straight out and ask him, but I felt so uncomfortable.

  He sat down opposite me and leaned casually on the table. ‘Listen, Anna, people usually come to me because they’re in some kind of trouble and need help. I like to help where I can, and I can see something’s upsetting you. Do you want to tell me what it is?’

  I hesitated for a minute, but he was looking at me with such understanding that I told him everything – or almost. I lied about one thing: I said I had lost the money, not that Scott had taken it.

  ‘The thing is, if I tell the charity I’ve lost it they won’t believe me. They’ll think I’ve stolen it, and I haven’t!’ I could feel tears stinging my eyes and prayed that I wouldn’t cry.

  ‘It’s not a problem. I like you, Anna – you seem honest enough. I can lend you the money – as a friend – but I’m sure you understand that we’ll need you to sign an agreement.’ He looked at Jagger. ‘We can sort that in the next couple of days, can’t we, Jagger?’

  ‘Oh, will it take that long?’ The words burst from me before I had time to think.

  Cameron raised his eyebrows. ‘Urgent, is it? Well, I’m sure I can trust you. I can give you the money now, if you like, and then we’ll sort out the agreement later. How does that sound?’

  I felt as if a huge burden had lifted from my shoulders. ‘Thank you so much. Scott said you’d help me, but I didn’t really believe him. It’s such a relief, and I’ll pay you back as quickly as I can.’

  I knew there were questions I should ask, but it seemed rude when he was being so helpful and I had never met anyone quite like him. How he and Jagger must have laughed at my naivety.

  ‘You’ll be wondering about the terms, no doubt,’ he said, as if reading my mind. ‘Even though we’re friends, it’s best for both of us if we recognise it’s a business transaction, so I charge a very reasonable ten per cent interest. It’s all in the agreement. I don’t mind too much when you pay back the lump sum, as long as you meet your interest payments. How does that sound?’

  Once more my eyes flooded with tears. Cameron reached over to touch my hand lightly before nodding to Jagger, who walked across the room and picked up a duffel bag. He reached inside, extracted three envelopes and handed them to Cameron.

  ‘Each of these contains a thousand. Are you happy walking home on your own with this amount, or would you like Jagger to come with you – make sure you’re safe?’

  I felt a flash of concern. If he already had the money, had he known I was coming?

  ‘Don’t look so worried, Anna. People often come here to borrow from me, so I always have a bit of cash handy. It’s all perfectly normal. And Jagger’s been collecting some interest today, haven’t you, Jagger?’

  I didn’t like the sneer on Jagger’s face, and much as I didn’t feel comfortable walking around with that much money, I knew I didn’t want his company. There was something unnerving about the man.

  ‘Thank you, but I don’t need anyone to walk me back – you’ve done enough for me. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it.’

  We stood up. ‘We’ll see you in a day or two to sign the agreement. Jagger will track you down, and if you’re stuck again, you know where to find me. I’m usually here until about nine o’clock each evening before I move on.’

  I looked away from his pale blue eyes, wondering if I would see him again or whether it would always be Jagger. I felt as if he had saved my life, and I would always be grateful for that.

  22

  After putting Dawn Edmunds into an unmarked police car to take her home, Tom and Becky returned to the incident room, where he was told Philippa Stanley wanted to see him immediately.

  Tom knocked on her door, and as he entered she looked up expectantly, one hand holding a pen suspended above a stack of papers, as if she was giving him time for a single short sentence before she got back to whatever she was doing.

  ‘Confirmed our victim, have you?’ she asked.

  ‘Confirmed that it’s not who we thought it was, yes.’

  ‘What?’ Philippa laid her pen down. Clearly this was going to take more than the twenty seconds she had allocated. ‘Sit, Tom. Tell me.’

  ‘Dawn Edmunds swears it’s not her husband and seems genuinely disappointed by the fact. So that leaves us with some difficult questions. Who is the victim? Why is he dead in another man’s car? Is Edmunds still in danger – if he was the intended victim?’

  ‘Damn it,’ Philippa said, strong language for a woman who prided herself on having risen through the ranks without swearing. ‘I thought you were going to tell me it was all sewn up. I was hoping for a result for the crime figures.’

  Tom bit back a riposte. There was no point; it was her job to demonstrate the success of the team on every possible occasion.

  He didn’t have to spell out to Philippa all the ways in which the investigation had just become trickier. With an unknown victim, they would normally put out an appeal for information. But they had to bear in mind that this may have been a case of mistaken identity, and Edmunds might still be in danger.

  ‘So what’s the plan?’

  ‘We’ve got a search warrant for the house, and I’m following the team out there when you and I have finished here. Although we didn’t release a name, it’s all over social media that Cameron Edmunds is dead, and we’re hoping that will work in our favour. No one will find it odd that we’re at his home.’

  ‘I presume you’ve discounted the other option – that Edmunds was the killer of the unknown victim?’

  Tom laughed. ‘I can’t believe he’s daft enough to have killed someone in his own car. That would be the double bluff to end all double bluffs, but obviously we can’t entirely rule it out. The search team should be at his home now. Meanwhile, we need to find out who the dead man is and decide whether he was the intended victim or not. I’ve said it before, but there was nothing random about this attack. It was vicious and carefully planned.’

  Philippa studied Tom for a moment, then nodded and looked back down at her paperwork. Tom knew he was dismissed.

  Dawn Edmunds was clearly an intelligent if somewhat disillusioned woman, but when Tom arrived at the house he sensed a change in her. She gr
eeted him in the hall, another glass of clear liquid in her hand from which she took a few deep gulps, swearing she had no idea where Cameron might be.

  ‘I can’t contact him. His mobile’s switched off, as no doubt you know. He’s probably flushed the SIM down a drain somewhere.’

  She was right – they had checked his phone and its records thoroughly.

  ‘Why do you think he hasn’t contacted you?’ Tom asked.

  There was a slight tremor in her sharp laugh. ‘Chief Inspector, you have to understand that he doesn’t care what I think. He knows I would dance on his grave. But if he’s alive, that’s a whole different ball game. He’ll blame me for the fact you’re here, whether it’s my fault or not, so do what you need to, but I’m not giving my consent to anything.’

  The almost celebratory mood had gone. Instead, Tom saw an anxious woman afraid of making a wrong decision, or at least afraid of the potential repercussions.

  ‘Look, I’ll tell you this much. The only place you’re likely to find anything of interest is in his study. He wouldn’t leave anything incriminating in his bedroom in case the cleaning staff found it, but they’re not allowed in the study. Jagger comes in twice a week to clean it.’

  ‘Tell me about Jagger.’

  Dawn screwed up her face. ‘Nasty little weasel of a man. He’s got the fine features of something that lives underground, if you know what I mean.’ She shuddered. ‘If anyone knows where Cameron is, it’s him – but I didn’t tell you that, okay?’

  ‘What’s his full name, and do you have an address?’

  ‘I’ve no idea where he lives – in some cave in the hills, at a guess. His first name is Roger, which he hates and never uses. He’s been my husband’s minder since they were at university, doing all his dirty work. Kneecapping is something of a speciality, I believe.’

  ‘What do you mean, dirty work? What does your husband do that requires someone like Jagger as a minder?’

  Dawn’s eyes flickered. ‘Christ, I’ve said too much. God help me if he finds out. I don’t know what he does, okay? I overhear stuff sometimes. He forgets I’m there most of the time. We don’t talk about what he does – I don’t want to know – and the money for the kids and running the house comes from his dad. I don’t ask. What I don’t know can’t hurt me.’

  Tom was prevented from pushing her further by the appearance of one of the search team.

  ‘Sir, we’ve found a safe.’

  Tom turned to Dawn. ‘Don’t look at me,’ she said. ‘I don’t know if it opens with a key, a combination or a fingerprint. Not a clue. I’m not allowed in there – no one is, except Cameron and Jagger – and what’s more he has a camera pointed at the door so that if anyone goes in, he’ll know about it. He says he’s not having locked doors in his house, just rules, and we’d all better obey them. He’s a real shit, you know. But I guess you’re getting the picture.’

  ‘If he has a camera, the feed must go somewhere. Do you have any idea where?’

  Dawn shrugged and chewed a thumbnail. ‘I have no idea how this stuff works, but at a guess it will go to Jagger somehow.’

  ‘Do you want me to get a locksmith for the safe, sir?’ the officer asked.

  Tom thought about it for a moment. ‘I’m guessing it’s a high-end safe, not a B&Q special?’ The officer nodded. ‘Maybe leave it for now. Opening it could cause all sorts of issues with legal privilege, so unless we know there’s something in there that’s vital to the investigation, we’ll put a hold on it.’

  Tom excused himself and left Dawn to top up her glass while he went in search of Becky.

  ‘We’ve not found much yet,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you get yourself off home and see how things are going with Lucy? If you stay much longer she’ll be in bed by the time you get back.’

  Tom had told Becky that his daughter was staying with them but hadn’t given her any details. She was right, though. He didn’t need to be there for the search.

  He took his leave and drove home slowly, going over in his mind what they knew – which wasn’t much – and twenty minutes later he was pulling into his drive, ready to face the other puzzle in his life. What on earth was going on with Lucy and her mum?

  Opening the front door, he called out, ‘Hello,’ making his voice more cheery than he felt.

  ‘Hi, Tom. We’re in the kitchen,’ Louisa shouted.

  He could smell something delicious, and walking into the room he was pleased to see Lucy at the hob, stirring the contents of a large casserole dish. She turned to smile at him. Tom felt instant relief that there appeared to be an air of calm, and for now no teenage tantrums. He reached towards his daughter, kissed her on the cheek and turned to give Louisa a hug. ‘I got home as quickly as I could. Sorry I wasn’t back earlier. This case is getting more and more complicated.’

  ‘We saw it on TV,’ Lucy said. ‘Those poor kids, losing their dad like that.’

  Tom couldn’t tell Lucy and Louisa that the dead man wasn’t who everyone believed him to be, so he changed the subject. ‘What are we eating?’

  ‘Louisa and I have made a Moroccan chicken thingy and some couscous with lots of roasted veggies.’

  ‘Excellent. When will it be ready?’

  ‘Fifteen minutes,’ Louisa said.

  ‘Good. So, Lucy, shall we have a quick chat?’

  Lucy turned around fully, waving a wooden spoon in the air. ‘Do we have to, Dad? I picked up some clothes today so I don’t need to go home for a while.’

  ‘Come and sit down for a minute,’ he said. ‘I just need to find out what’s happened, so whatever we decide, we can make sure that you and your mum have resolved your issues. She’s an important person in your life, love. You can’t shut her out.’

  Lucy put the wooden spoon down with a clatter and stomped across the room to sit at the table. ‘So it’s my fault?’

  ‘I didn’t say that. I don’t think arguments are usually the fault of one person. They’re generally a combination of circumstances and personality. So what caused you to argue?’

  Lucy tossed her head. ‘If you must know, we argued about you. To start with I was mad at you, but then I realised it was all her fault. And she lied to me. You’ve always told me not to lie, Dad, and so I try very hard not to. That’s why I was so mad at her.’

  Tom noticed that Louisa had turned down the heat under the food and quietly slipped from the room.

  ‘Explain.’

  ‘I asked her why you split up, and she said she’d been stupid. You weren’t paying her any attention, always thinking about work and stuff, and she met someone else who she thought she could love better.’

  There was nothing there that Tom could argue with. He had been working his way up the ladder as a detective, and they were forever short of money. Kate wanted the best of everything, and the only way they would be able to afford the lifestyle she craved was for Tom to be promoted to a senior position. He’d had no choice but to work hard. And, he had to admit, he was ambitious back then. Kate had been tempted away by a young London trader called Declan, who was making a fortune. She had taken herself and Lucy to the other end of the country and it been the worst time of Tom’s life.

  ‘I think your mum’s being fair, Lucy. I did work very long hours, and I should have realised it was making her unhappy. I’m not going to make excuses, but when she took you away I was devastated. I need you to know that.’

  Lucy nodded. ‘That’s why I know that the next bit she told me is a lie. She said she offered to come back to you. She said it would mean you could spend every day with me, but you refused. How could she tell a lie like that?’

  Tom felt the muscles across his shoulders tense. What was he going to say to his daughter? He reached for her hand. ‘Sweetheart, she wasn’t lying. It’s not exactly the way it seems, but it’s not a lie.’

  Lucy stared at him for a moment and then yanked her hand out of his. ‘So you didn’t want me? She was telling the truth? She made one mistake, but even for me you wouldn’
t let us back into your life?’ She pushed back from the table.

  Tom wanted to stop her. He had to make Lucy understand how it had happened without sounding as if he was blaming her mother. In fact Kate’s interest in Tom had only revived when he inherited a fortune from Jack, his brother, but their daughter didn’t need to know that.

  It was too late, though. Lucy’s eyes had filled with tears. ‘I didn’t believe her. You’ve always told me that losing me from your life when I was so young was devastating. But you could have had me back, and you didn’t want me, did you, Dad?’

  And with that she turned and ran from the room.

  23

  It’s such a relief to be home, to have Holly asleep in her own bed and an overexcited Bailey finally settled. My son doesn’t really understand what happened, but he’d had his routine disturbed and it had made him anxious, not least because once more he could probably feel my tension. I still haven’t spoken to Dominic about where I was and what kept me, but the moment is coming, and I can’t bear to see that look of disappointment in his eyes again. Whatever I tell him, I have to be convincing. He’ll believe me because as far as he knows he’s never had any reason to doubt me. All the bargains I made with myself in exchange for Holly’s safety have been forgotten. I can’t tell him the truth, and I feel tears stinging the back of my eyes as I walk downstairs.

  I quickly blink them away as I step into the kitchen, where Dom is pouring us both a glass of red wine.

  ‘I thought maybe we could do with this,’ he says, his face solemn. ‘I’m sorry if I was hard on you earlier, Anna. I should have listened first before jumping in with both feet.’

  I shake my head. ‘You were worried, in shock. Our daughter had been hurt in our own back garden and on your watch. You were bound to be upset.’

  I feel a stab of self-disgust. I didn’t mean to hint at blame, and no one cares more about our children’s safety than Dominic. It was an automatic response, intended to deflect any accusations that he might be about to make. But it was unfair, and I grab the glass and take a large gulp, not wanting to look at my husband’s face.