The Liar's House: An absolutely gripping thriller with a fantastic twist (Detective Gina Harte Book 4)

by Carla Kovach

  She threw the tiny biscotti that had come with the coffee at him. ‘In your dreams. That’s so not on the cards.’

  ‘I forgot, Inspector. I suppose it’s more than your job is worth but wouldn’t that add to the excitement? Yuck, I’ve had enough tequila. Right, I need a slash, then I suppose we best call a taxi. So, it’s no to the booty call. You didn’t dismiss the threesome idea. You’re a dark horse, Gina. Back to yours?’ He hurried towards the men’s room, not giving her a chance to answer.

  The warm fuzziness seeped out of her like an Arctic blast. He was not coming back to her place. She’d made it clear that having a laugh as friends had been her only intention. She shook her head as she thought of the evening and how it had developed from general conversation to flirtation. Again, she’d totally given him the wrong impression.

  His words swam around her head, propelling her back to the night Terry had brought home a prostitute and held a knife to her throat. The look in his eyes had said, do as I tell you or you’re in for it. She closed her eyes as she recalled the night she was trying so hard to forget.

  ‘That’s better. Did you call a taxi?’ Rex said as he wiped his damp hands on his jeans.

  Gina opened her eyes and wiped the tear that had slid down her cheek. That particular memory had been buried for such a long time. Now, it was back with a vengeance.

  ‘Dryer didn’t work, I didn’t pee on my hands, if that’s what you were thinking.’

  She forced a smile. ‘I’ve called two taxis, one for you and one for me. Oh look, mine’s just arrived.’ She finished her lukewarm coffee and put her jacket on, fighting with her drunken jellied legs as she walked towards the taxi driver. Her instinct had been right about Rex. He wasn’t right for her and he didn’t really want to be just friends. She held a hand up to him, waving as she left, not once looking back. He’d presumed wrongly when he thought he was going back with her. As she opened the door to the taxi and got in, a flood of tears filled her burning red cheeks.

  She’d never eradicate the memory of that night and what happened next. She thought of Jade Ashmore and Dawn Brown. Had they been pressured into things they didn’t want to do? Maybe Steven, like Terry, had brought Dawn a few surprises home and maybe she just wanted to forget. Steven, like Terry, wasn’t the type to take no for an answer. She suddenly felt sick. Did Steven know about that night and would he twist it and use it to shame her over the course of the case? She swallowed. She wasn’t going to throw up, not tonight.

  ‘Where to?’ the driver asked as he reset the meter, ignoring her tears.

  Twenty-Two

  Wednesday, 8 May 2019

  I just can’t sleep. I’ve had a little drink, tried a few deep breathing exercises of which I know Aimee’s a fan, but they didn’t work on me. Aimee with two e’s. I even love the way she spells her name, it’s so… her. I thought it wasn’t real, the name, but it is. That is how it’s spelled on the electoral register. I like her parents, they created a real individual.

  I needed to see her. It’s way past midnight, one, maybe two in the morning. Who knows? Who cares? I certainly don’t. That’s why I’m standing knee deep in the tangled shrubbery at the back of her house.

  She’s given up pacing and staring at her phone. The main light in the bedroom, flashes on and she stares out of the window. I hold up my phone and take a sneaky photo through the gap in the fence. Another photo of the most beautiful girl I know.

  Standing in darkness, I remain still, hoping that she won’t look my way. I doubt she’ll see me. I’ve been there in plain daylight, right in front of her and she’s failed to acknowledge my existence. One day, my darling, one day. I know exactly how to charm a woman, it’s tried and tested. I also love that you don’t mind sharing as I’m not an exclusive kind of guy. But, when I saw your profile, I knew you were more special than the rest.

  I step back a little further as she steps forward, inquisitively searching for any sign of life. Don’t be scared, my lovely. Everything will all work out fine. She places a hand on the window and stares out as she cries.

  I remove what’s left of the tiny spliff from my pocket and place it between my lips. As she closes the curtains, I light up, inhaling the relaxing drug. I feel the muscles around my mouth relaxing into a gentle smile.

  Now, I’m ready for bed but there’s something I must do first.

  Goodnight, my sweetness. Sleep tight and dream lovely things.

  Twenty-Three

  The tight room swelled and contracted, like a beating heart, trapping her deep in its central cavity. Ba-boom, ba-boom, ba-boom.

  ‘You can do better than that, my little flower,’ Terry yelled as the knife glinted in the candlelight.

  ‘Please, Terry, no. Please.’

  He leaned over from his chair, knife tip pointing at her chin.

  Walls closed in. Redness filled her closed eyelids as the sharpness of the knife tickled her ribs.

  From the cold stone floor, she prised an eye open.

  Darkness, nothing but the blackest darkness surrounded her. She reached out into the nothingness. Screaming – it was almost like the atmosphere was absorbing the sound. She should hear her gasping breaths and chattering teeth – nothing.

  Screaming and screaming but no one can hear, no one ever heard her screams.

  Gina jolted up in bed and gasped for air as she tussled with her sweaty sheets. Her head pounding in unison with her hammering heartbeat. ‘Leave me alone,’ she yelled as she grappled for the lamp, tears filling her eyes, panic filling her heart. Flashes of the red pulsating room filled her mind and fuelled the panic.

  Light – there was light. Hot, she needed to remove her soaking wet nightshirt. Nausea. She stumbled out of bed and ran across the landing to the bathroom, leaning over the sink and splashing her face with water. The rancid taste of tequila mixed with coffee at the back of her throat made her cough. Deep breaths. She was safe in her home and she was there alone. She splashed herself again and her heart rate began to calm. Images of her nightmare flashed through her fuzzy head. She removed a strand of sweaty hair from her mouth and staggered towards the shower and crawled in.

  Standing under the showerhead, she sobbed hard, letting all the shame and fear roll down her cheeks, mingling with the cleanliness of the scorching hot water, flowing over her dirty memories. Slamming the flat of her hand over and over, against the steamed up tiles made her want to hit harder. She wanted to feel something, anything, even if it hurt. Just not fear. Anything was better than fear. The look in the prostitute’s eyes as Terry had held a knife to both of them while humiliating them was back to haunt her. Just when she thought she’d sent these memories packing, they’d come back like an unwelcome visitor. Only this time, she wondered if this visitor would ever leave.

  She felt along her ribs and touched the tiny scar where he’d jabbed the tip of the knife into her and she gagged with disgust. It had happened and it was real, regardless of how deeply she’d tried to bury it. What exactly did Steven know?

  Twenty-Four

  As Diane padded down the stairs, she shivered. The cool breeze met her face as she reached the bottom. She pulled her thick dressing gown across her body and tied it up at the waist.

  The hairs on the back of her neck began to prickle. Turning slowly, she felt her stomach drop. Light from the downstairs toilet filled the hallway. She would never have left the window wide open. ‘Hello,’ she whispered as she peered into the room. Toilet seat down, soap and towel untouched. Maybe she had left the window open or maybe it had blown open. The catch was loose anyway. It had never happened before but there could always be a first. She made a mental note to call the landlord. It would be the second time but she was sure his tardiness in getting it fixed was merely an oversight.

  Her knees made a clicking noise as she leaned over the toilet to close the window.

  She headed to the living room and opened the curtains. Greyness filled the sky. Leaning down, she turned her little heater on. It would take her a
ll morning to warm up now, costing money she didn’t have. She knew she only had several pounds left in the meter and it had to last. She glimpsed at the photo next to the television. She’d drifted off while thinking about Samantha and what might have happened to her. The smiling young woman looked into her eyes, just like she had always done in the past. Diane tried to imagine her voice but recalling it was becoming more difficult. She was slowly forgetting what her friend sounded like. She picked the photo up and gripped it to her chest, hugging it closely, just like she had done with Samantha on a few occasions.

  She wiped her eyes as she headed towards the kitchen. Five in the morning. It was no time to get up. Maybe she’d get a cup of tea and go back to bed instead of sitting in the living room. Maybe she’d stay in bed, not get up all day. Finally she’d become sick of looking for reasons to get up. There were none. As she flicked on the kettle, something caught her eye.

  There were many things on the kitchen table. Salt, pepper, sauce and vinegar. A few bills and some junk mail. But, she definitely hadn’t left a photo on the table. She took a deep breath and began to shake as she crept closer. Someone had been in her house, she was right all along. While she had been in bed, struggling to sleep, an intruder had crept in through her bathroom window, walked across the hall and into the kitchen. She tried the back door. It was unlocked. She’d definitely locked the back door before going to bed.

  She picked up the intruder’s gift and held it in her hand, twiddling it between her thumb and index finger, shaking as tears slid down her cheeks. First the card and nail, and now this.

  Twenty-Five

  Gina rubbed her tired eyes as she waved at Jacob in the distance. She watched as Keith came out of Diane’s house with a couple of filled sample bags. Her disturbed sleep had left her feeling fuzzy and the few tequilas that she had drunk with Rex the night before were the cause of the nauseating throbbing that hammered through her head. Drops of rain dotted her face.

  As her gritty eyes focused, she stared at the lock of hair through the clear evidence bag that Keith was cataloguing. ‘What do we have?’

  He flinched as he straightened out, his back once again playing up. ‘Hair, blonde hair, about three inches in length. There are some roots but I hope there’s enough to run the sample through the DNA database.’

  ‘Check them against the fingernail that was sent in the card.’

  ‘Will do.’

  ‘Anything else?’

  Jacob interrupted. ‘We arrived not long before you. Diane reported that she woke up about five in the morning, came downstairs and noticed that her downstairs toilet window was open. Then she spotted a photo and a neat lock of hair in her kitchen. The intruder must have left them.’ He did the buttons up on his anorak as he stepped back to stand under the front door canopy to avoid the heavy downpour that was building up.

  ‘I’ve taken all the samples I need from the downstairs toilet and the kitchen. I’ll get them straight over to the lab.’ Keith dragged his thin long strands of grey hair that had flopped over straight back across his balding head.

  ‘Thanks, Keith. Where’s Diane?’

  Jacob pointed towards the living room where the woman was being comforted by PC Smith. He smiled as Gina entered and stepped aside. The little heater hummed as it chugged out very little warmth. ‘Hello, Diane.’ Gina sat on the settee next to the frail-looking woman.

  ‘There was someone in my house last night. I didn’t even sleep well. How could I not have heard a thing?’ The woman began to tremble. Gina passed her the toilet roll from the floor. Diane pulled a few sheets and wiped her eyes.

  Gina shivered, knowing exactly how it felt to have someone sneaking around your home while you slept. In a previous case, that had happened to her. It took a long time for her to feel safe, for her home to feel untainted by a presence that wished to harm her. She knew exactly how Diane was feeling.

  ‘I know this is hard, Diane, but can you talk me through what happened this morning?’

  ‘I’ve already told the lovely PC here. I didn’t hear or see any more,’ she said as she blew her nose.

  Gina nodded for PC Smith to follow her through to the kitchen.

  ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’ The woman nodded and sipped on a cup of tea.

  Smith picked up his hat from the chair and followed her through to the kitchen. ‘As you can see, she’s very distressed. When I got here about an hour ago, she was almost hysterical. We quickly determined that the intruder got in through the broken bathroom window. The catch is damaged. At night, she’s been pulling the window closed but it hasn’t been secured.’ She followed Smith along the hallway until they stopped at the small room.

  ‘The window’s quite large and not too high up. I think I could easily fit through it. The intruder obviously came through, stepped on the toilet and bingo, they’re in.’

  ‘Any footsteps on the toilet seat?’

  ‘No, ma’am,’ Keith said as he passed by with Jacob. ‘It looks like whoever broke in cleaned up after. There is nothing around the window frame, no traces of caught clothing, fingerprints, etcetera. Not even a hint of a footstep on the flooring or toilet seat. This person cleaned up after themselves.’

  Her gaze travelled from the small water closet, along the hallway and towards the kitchen. She followed the intruder’s steps until she reached the kitchen table. Junk mail filled the one side, charity appeal after charity appeal. Pamphlets with special offers on heated booties, magazine holders and impractical footstools were scattered everywhere, all brandishing a free gift to anyone who placed an order.

  ‘The photo and lock of hair were found here.’ Smith pointed at the chair that was closest to the door.

  ‘So the intruder breaks in and leaves a photo of missing woman, Samantha Felton, along with what we’re thinking might be a lock of her hair.’

  ‘It matches to the colour in the photo, guv.’

  Keith smiled as he came back into the kitchen. ‘Right, I’m going to head back with the samples.’

  ‘I need to see the photo,’ Gina said.

  He passed it to her, secure in its plastic cover, all labelled up.

  She placed the photo down on the table and stared at it. A scene from a party, maybe. She saw the back of a man dancing with Samantha, one of her legs hitched up and wrapped around his waist, clearly laughing as she tried to grip him. ‘I wonder who the man is, the one she’s dancing with. More so, I wonder who took this photo.’

  Maybe the photographer or her dancing partner was her cigarette smoking lover. Maybe the photographer was Derek. She squinted as she tried to look further into the detail of the grainy photo. It had to be a pub, social club or a bar. Burgundy material-covered chairs everywhere, dark wooden rectangular tables adorned with beer mats, drinks and empty packets of peanuts. Along the wall and behind a row of tables was a long bench. People laughed and drank as some danced and had fun. One face stood out. This woman wasn’t laughing.

  ‘There’s something familiar about this woman.’ Gina turned on the kitchen light and held the photo up. It was a few years ago. The woman was much slighter and her hair was longer but there was no mistaking her face. Gina dashed back to Diane in the living room with Jacob close behind. ‘Do you recognise this woman, this one here?’ She pointed at the photo.

  ‘Sorry, I’ve never seen her before. Who’s doing this to me, first the card and now they break into my home?’

  Gina clenched her fist as she thought of what Diane was going through. Finding the intruder was key to solving everything. Someone out there was leaving a trail of breadcrumbs. Where they were leading, she had no idea. Why they were leaving them? That was a mystery too. She now knew for certain that Jade Ashmore’s murder was related to Samantha Felton’s disappearance. Why else would the intruder leave a photo of Samantha dating back to all those years ago, especially a photo showing Jade Ashmore watching her? Between the photo and the nail, she was more than certain.

  Gina flinched as someone tapped on the door.
Looking up, she saw a big smile emphasising two tiny dimples on PC Kapoor’s face. ‘I’ve just been doing door to door, guv, and look what I have,’ she said, screeching in her Brummie accent. The tiny officer waved a disk in front of her face. ‘One of the neighbours has CCTV covering both sides of his house after his shed was broken into a couple of months ago.’

  ‘Well done, Kapoor.’ Gina took the disk and placed it in her file. ‘Carry on with the good work. If you see Smith, tell him I’m heading back to the station in a moment.’

  Diane looked up with reddened eyes. ‘Will I be able to see who broke into my home?’

  ‘I really hope so. We’re going to take this footage back to the station and give it a thorough examination.’

  Gina’s phone began to ring in her back pocket. After a struggle to remove it, she enthusiastically accepted the call. ‘Bernard, what have you got? Excuse me a moment, Diane.’ She left the room and stood outside. ‘Fire away.’

  He paused for a moment. Gina imagined him stroking his ever lengthening grey beard as he scanned his notes. He was looking more like Gandalf with every week. ‘The fingernail that you sent in.’

  ‘Yes?’ Gina felt her heartbeat humming under her shirt.

  ‘It is Jade Ashmore’s nail. A little bit of skin was still attached to the nail and it is a definite match. It looks like our perpetrator trimmed it and painted it pink.’

  Twenty-Six

  ‘Coffee and walnut slice, guv? Made by Mrs O’s fair hands.’ O’Connor entered the incident room with an old biscuit tin full of cake.

  ‘Smells lovely. That’s breakfast sorted. Thank her for me.’ She took a slice before he headed to his computer. Gina took a bite of the sugary sponge as she stared at the boards. ‘Right, gather round,’ Gina called as she slotted the disk into the computer. Wyre, Jacob and O’Connor headed over and filled the tiny space at the front of the room. As the computer whirred into action, Gina pressed play and the footage started. She fast forwarded to seven minutes past three in the morning. ‘I’ve already had a brief look.’ She pressed play.