Exposed

by M. A. Hunter

  ‘This conversation is strictly off the record for now, Emma, is that clear?’

  My neck feels so hot that I might be close to passing out, but I agree without question.

  ‘Good. The footage shows two heavyset individuals in designer suits pushing Mr Tomlinson about, and threatening him. Unfortunately, the footage isn’t high-res, and there’s no sound, so it isn’t clear exactly what their conversation is about, but there’s a lot of shaking of heads, finger waving, and I would assume shouting. One of them pulls a gun, and fires point-blank at Tomlinson, before wiping the weapon clean and leaving it on top of the body. This is only minutes before your sister is seen entering the property from an upstairs window, and she is then seen heading down the stairs where she discovers the body, shortly before flashing lights can be seen though one of the front windows. Although your sister has yet to make a formal statement about what happened that day, if her version of events mirrors what’s seen in the footage, then I have no reason to consider her a suspect in my investigation. We are already trying to identify the two men in question, but the footage isn’t good enough for facial recognition. We’re reaching out to colleagues in organised crime to see if they recognise them.’

  My heart is racing, and it feels as though a blowtorch is being held against my neck and face, but this almost feels like light at the end of the tunnel.

  ‘You’re saying you’re not going to charge Anna with murder?’

  ‘Not at this time, no. I still need to interview her again, and that will be my next step. Hopefully she will be more cooperative this time.’

  ‘She didn’t force Daisy to go with her. Daisy was a willing participant,’ I say urgently. ‘You have to tell that to the investigating team. Get them to check Daisy’s internet history, focusing on chatroom conversations. Daisy told me she was the one to reach out to Anna about bringing down her great-uncle.’

  ‘Listen, Emma, I can’t get involved in any of that. The best thing I can suggest is for you to contact Anna’s solicitor and tell her anything you believe might be relevant, and tell her to encourage Anna to come clean about what’s been going on. The truth is always the best place to start.’

  I know she’s right, but I worry that Anna has been fighting for so long that she won’t welcome any kind of advice, even when it’s in her best interests.

  I thank Oakley for the update, and promise I will do all I can to get hold of Saira Mistry and relay the message. Pushing myself away from the door, I follow the stone path to the edge of the grass, sucking in lungfuls of breath as I try to regain my composure and concentrate on what else I can do to help Anna.

  Rachel reappears at the patio door, her face as pale as snow. ‘They want to speak to you,’ is all she manages before Jack’s face appears like an apparition behind her shoulder. The deathly pallor tells me the infection has him, and I so want to tell him how sorry I am for ever involving him in this mess, but how grateful I am that he has been there every step of the way.

  Heading in through the patio doors, I follow him across the living room, and to the small office door. The room is dimly lit, and at first it takes a moment for my eyes to adjust. The blind at the far side of the room is drawn, but I can see there is a large map on the wall into which Rawani is sticking coloured drawing pins.

  ‘You weren’t kidding when you said how much information was on here,’ Jack says, straining to keep the sadness from his voice. ‘There must be five or six times as many videos as were found on Turgood’s drive. It’s… it’s sick.’

  My bottom lip trembles as our eyes meet, and I nod. ‘Did you watch them all?’

  He shakes his head, and the dim light reflects in his watering yes. ‘Couldn’t…’

  I know what he means, I couldn’t bear to watch more than a few seconds of the files I opened, and I’m not sure what level of courage would be required to catalogue this discovery. I pity the poor souls who will ultimately be assigned such a horrendous task. Their futures will be permanently dimmed by such activity.

  ‘The DCS says we need to involve specialist teams within Anti-Corruption to ensure proper oversight of what is to come,’ Jack says quietly. ‘I don’t know whether you looked at any of the names in the spreadsheet, but this spread far wider than I think we ever considered. We’re talking decades of abuse and corruption at the highest levels, and heads are going to roll. This is bigger than Operation Yewtree, and you saw the media coverage that garnered. This may indeed become the biggest multi-agency investigation ever coordinated in the UK.’

  I nod as if I understand any of the repercussions of what Jack is saying, but I don’t think I’ll truly understand just what this means until it’s all over.

  ‘We’ll need a statement from you confirming how this drive came into your possession,’ Rawani offers, glancing from the screen to the map, and jabbing another pin into it. ‘We’ll also need to know who else was involved in obtaining it, and what steps you followed to bring it to our attention.’

  ‘Sure,’ I reply, suddenly overcome with fatigue. ‘Whatever it takes.’

  Jack places a protective arm around me, and kisses the top of my head. ‘You did it, Emma.’

  I huddle into his warmth. ‘No, this was all Anna’s work. We need to get her out of that cell, and into protective custody. She’s been locked up for too long.’

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Now

  Weymouth, Dorset

  Rachel offered to drive me home, but I told her we all need a night off before the real work starts, and the gentle rock of the train carriage brought on a dark and turbulent sleep that I’m relieved to wake from as the train guard announces our arrival in Weymouth. Jack promised to call with an update once his and Rawani’s meeting with the Anti-Corruption division is complete, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he’s forced to sign a non-disclosure agreement and can’t provide an update. If their assumptions about the scale are right, then they’ll want to keep a lid on matters.

  I want to call Anna and tell her she’s made the difference, but in her current circumstances, she’s not available to hear such great news. I’ve left messages with Anna’s solicitor, Saira, but she has yet to return any of my calls. Something tells me Anna is going to need her now more than ever. But I do worry that her life will be at risk of reprisal when the truth does get out, and I’m also terrified that she might just as easily drift back into the ether, and out of my life. We didn’t exactly hit it off or slip into a familiar pattern when we met at Jane Austen’s house. What if we’re never able to find that sibling bond after everything that’s happened? What if she has no desire to reconnect with me?

  There’s an older couple sitting across the table from me. Her silver hair is tied in a tight bun, and her head has been buried in a book of crossword puzzles since we left Reading. He, on the other hand, with hair almost as white as snow, has been fast asleep, his head resting on her shoulder and his mouth wide enough to catch flies. She presses a hand to his arm and gently wakes him, telling him they’ve arrived at their destination. He looks to be in a blind panic as he opens his eyes, as if he has no idea where he is, but then she brushes his cheek and closes his mouth with the tips of her fingers.

  ‘Glasses,’ he says, loudly enough to turn the heads of those seated in close proximity.

  ‘Around your neck, my sweet,’ she says, rolling up her book and tucking it and her pencil into her handbag.

  His hands fumble around his shirt until his fingertips brush the cord, and he quickly slides them back up and onto his face, stifling a yawn in the process.

  ‘What would I do without you?’ he asks, leaning over and kissing her cheek.

  ‘Well you’d probably end up in Timbuktu with no idea how to get home,’ she teases, ‘but the real question is what would I do without you? Come along, we don’t want to be late for the bus.’

  He pushes up the armrest and slides off the chair, straightening and rubbing the base of his back, before offering her his hand and helping her from her seat. Th
e love between them radiates, and I can’t help envying that level of intimacy, something that has sorely been lacking in my life for far too long. But with Jack’s likely heavy involvement with the investigation, how long will I have to wait until we can consider crossing that bridge? And then taking into account the distance between our homes and lives, it just isn’t going to happen. I care deeply for Jack, and I wish him nothing but joy and success in the future, but maybe friendship is the most we can expect of one another.

  I follow the couple as they slowly make their way down the carriage and wait for the door to slide open. She allows him to step out first, and then he holds her arm as she clambers down onto the platform. She catches me watching them, and although I quickly turn my head, I already have her attention.

  ‘Oh Finn, look who it is,’ she says to her husband. ‘You’re Emma Hunter, aren’t you?’

  My cheeks flush as I step onto the platform, offering a nod and a slight shrug. ‘Hi, yes, I am.’

  ‘Oh, what a treat! We’ve had a lovely day sightseeing in London, and then we get to meet a local hero. It’s truly an honour to meet you, Emma.’

  The temperature in my face cranks up another notch. ‘That’s very kind of you to say, but I’m no hero.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you, dear. I’m a big fan of your books.’

  ‘Thank you, it’s always nice to meet a fan. Are you two local then?’

  ‘Oh, yes. Finn’s mind isn’t what it once was, so we try and get out whenever we can to make the most of the time we have left. I imagine you must have a line of suitors waiting to escort you home.’

  ‘Have you two been married a long time then?’ I ask as we make our way to the station’s exit.

  ‘Thirty-five years next month. When you meet the man who makes you smile every day, you grab hold of him and don’t let go.’

  Her husband Finn has wandered off along the platform and she wishes me well as she hurries after him and steers him back towards the exit. I think about my parents’ marriage, and how they’d seemed unsinkable until the worst happened that Sunday afternoon. When they were then forced beneath the microscope, the cracks soon appeared and quickly widened, but does that mean they weren’t suited? What would have happened if Anna hadn’t been taken that day? Where would we be now? And would they both be alive now? I still have so many unanswered questions about that period in my life, and with Mum gone, I can’t see how I’ll ever find those answers.

  The walk home from the station is brief, and I collect a fish and chip supper on the way as I’m too exhausted to think creatively about food. It smells so good, and I’m glad I chose to come home rather than staying at Rachel’s. She needs a night of normality with Daniella, and I need to hear the call of the seagulls when I wake in the morning.

  ‘Spare a chip for an officer of the law?’ a familiar voice calls over my shoulder as Rick bounds over, dressed in jeans and an anorak rather than his more familiar high-vis vest and PCSO uniform.

  I stop and offer the open bag to him as steam rises up and hovers around his face. He takes a chip and puffs out his cheeks as it burns the tip of his tongue.

  ‘Thanks. Is there anything better than a fresh chip?’

  I select one dripping in salt and vinegar and blow on it before putting it between my lips. ‘Nothing,’ I reply.

  ‘Mind if I walk you home?’ he asks.

  I chuckle, as I could probably hurl the bag of chips and land it on my doorstep, but I nod as a bit of company might not be a bad thing. After all, Rick’s made it perfectly clear that he’s interested in more than just friendship, and I didn’t really give him much of a chance because of my confusion over Jack. Maybe Rick’s appearance here is fate’s way of giving me a much-needed nudge in the right direction.

  ‘I wanted to return something of yours,’ he says when we reach the steps, removing my old phone from his inside jacket pocket and passing it over.

  I hand him the chips in exchange for the device, but am a little disappointed to see the large crack across the screen.

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ he tells me. ‘It got damaged in the scuffle I had with the thief it helped me apprehend.’

  I’d almost forgotten about the mugging.

  ‘You caught him then?’

  ‘Yeah, just a chancer, but thanks to your phone we were able to track his movements and catch him. The inspector I report to was very pleased, and there’s going to be a story about it in tomorrow’s Echo.’

  ‘You’ll have to autograph a copy of it for me,’ I say proudly, unlocking the door and inviting him inside. ‘How’s your mum?’

  He closes the door slowly, but remains in its shadow. ‘She’s fine, thanks. Keeps asking me when she can expect to read the next Emma Hunter instalment.’

  ‘In about five weeks,’ I say, reminding myself to give Maddie a call in the morning and chat through the proposed outline for the next book. ‘Hey, do you want me to split my dinner with you? I can probably rustle up a couple of slices of stale bread and butter to bulk it out.’

  ‘Sure,’ he says, remaining by the door.

  I head out to the kitchen, flicking on the light and cursing when I can’t find any ketchup in the cupboard. I don’t remember running out, but in fairness I haven’t been very good at keeping rations well stocked these past few months. Here and now, I make a vow to improve my lifestyle, including cutting down on the number of takeaways I buy when I can’t be bothered to cook.

  Splitting the fish and chips between two plates, I set the table, placing the larger of the portions where Rick will sit.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’ I call out, moving to the door to see what’s holding him up.

  He’s by the desk, but hurries over when he hears me. ‘Yes, tea would be great.’

  I put the kettle on, but am too hungry to wait for it, so we sit and tuck in.

  ‘You look exhausted,’ he says when we’ve finished eating.

  ‘Thanks a lot!’ I exclaim. ‘Crikey, what charm school did you get excluded from?’

  He laughs and collects my plate, carrying them both to the sink and beginning to fill it while I make the tea.

  ‘Seriously though,’ he says, as the bubbles rise to the surface, ‘you should take a few days for yourself. I’m sure it’s been a crazy week, what with discovering your sister is alive and well, and then haring off after her yesterday.’

  Something stirs in my mind, but I shake it away as I splash milk into our mugs.

  ‘What did you have in mind?’ I ask. ‘Are you offering to take me away on some all-expenses paid mini-break?’

  ‘Ha! Not on my salary, but I’m sure I could wangle a couple of days off if you fancied some company.’

  I really should get my head down and start writing, as there’s so much to tell, but maybe a rest and a break are precisely what is needed.

  ‘It must have been weird coming face to face with your sister after all these years,’ he comments, as he places a soap-covered plate in the rack on the draining board. ‘What did the two of you talk about?’

  ‘It’s funny, I’d pictured the moment for so long, but when it came I didn’t know how to react. I can’t even remember what my first words to her were.’

  ‘Did she tell you where she’s been hiding for all these years?’

  I yawn, wondering the same thing myself. How could she have stayed under the radar for so long undetected? And how long would she have remained under had she not sent me those pictures of Faye McKenna and Cormack Fitzpatrick?

  ‘I’d rather not talk about it,’ I say, stifling another yawn, the prospect of bed and a good book to read drawing me in.

  ‘And then she went and kidnapped that girl in Southampton! Did she explain why she did that?’

  I frown at the question. ‘Sorry, Rick, but do you mind if we talk about something else? Sorry, it’s just it’s all I’ve thought about for days, and I’d rather talk about something with a happier ending.’

  ‘Sure, sure,’
he says, placing the second of the plates in the rack. ‘It’s just such a fascinating tale: long-lost sister turning up out of the blue like that, and then abducting a child herself. I was just curious about what she’d hoped to achieve other than throwing a giant spotlight on herself.’

  ‘Who knows why some people do the things they do?’ I respond, carrying my mug through to the living room and sitting on the sofa.

  Rick dries his hands on the towel on the radiator in the kitchen, before following me through.

  ‘I heard Anna was finally caught breaking into the girl’s uncle’s house. The funny thing is, the police have yet to find what she stole.’

  Alarm bells are ringing in my head. Rick seems far too well-informed about my actions over the last couple of days, which is odd when I haven’t spoken to him since he raced away from the scene of the mugging to catch the thief.

  ‘Yes, well, as I said, let’s change the subject,’ I say, smiling thinly at him.

  Rick lowers his mug to the table and moves across to my front door, locking it in one motion. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Emma. You see, they know what was taken, and all you have to do is tell me what you did with it.’

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Now

  Weymouth, Dorset

  This must be some kind of joke are the only words playing through my mind, and yet the darkness that’s come over his eyes, and the pained grimace on his face, tell me it’s anything but.

  ‘Rick?’ I try to question, but the words stick in my throat. ‘What’s going on?’

  He moves away from the door, and I’ve never seen him looking so pained and confused, like a man battling internally with a decision he has no choice but to make. He looks back at me before hurrying over.

  ‘We don’t have long.’ There is heightened tension in his voice, and fresh urgency. ‘They’re sending people over. You need to tell me where the information is, Emma, before they get here. If you don’t… Please just tell me how you got the files and where you’ve put them.’