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

by Carla Kovach

  ‘Of course,’ Gina replied and Jacob left.

  She leaned on Briggs and he folded a firm arm around her and sighed.

  ‘Gina. I need you to go to the kitchen, have a coffee and get your notes up to date. Do it now.’

  ‘But, sir, I need to be here to see Steven being interviewed. Don’t shut me out of the case.’

  He let out a frustrated groan and pulled away from her. ‘I’m not shutting you out. I’ll be here. It’s being recorded and I’ll fill you in straight away. You’re getting too involved. Go and have a coffee and something to eat. That is an order. You messed up and you need to go and put things right.’

  She almost knocked the chair over as she stood and slammed the door. She’d totally blown it.

  Forty-Nine

  Gina leaned against the worktop, nervously tapping what remained of her fingernails on the chipped empty mug of coffee that she’d finished drinking ten minutes ago. She’d tried to eat a biscuit but had found herself gagging on it. She felt far from hungry even though her rumbling stomach was clearly protesting against that thought. She flinched as the incident room door pushed open, then her shoulders dropped as the cleaner wheeled a vacuum through, quickly leaving through the far door. What was taking them all so long? She wanted and needed to know what Steven was saying. Maybe he was talking about her, telling them of things he thought he knew that weren’t true. If so, that may deem the end of her presence on this case. She’d be holed up in her office sifting through CCTV while the others took a meatier role in the investigation. Her fingers began to tremble and her head throbbed with the pressure of built up tears.

  ‘Gina?’ She dropped the mug and it shattered all over the tiled floor. Briggs bent down to pick up the pieces. ‘Too much caffeine?’

  He could tell she was jittery. ‘No. I just, I don’t know. I’m being sidelined here.’

  ‘It’s for your own good. I said I’d fill you in and as your superior, as one who cares I could see you needed a break. Whether you like it or not, you are now, at the very least, emotionally involved in this case. I can’t have that fact clouding your judgement. Look at me.’

  She did. There was no malice in his actions, she could tell that much.

  ‘You’re a good detective. I need it to stay that way. I need you to be focused, don’t let your heart cloud your sense of logic. Sometimes, a little time out is needed. You know you could take some holiday—’

  ‘I don’t want a holiday, sir. I want to catch the bastard who killed Jade Ashmore. I want to find Samantha and I want to find out who attacked Sophie Dobbins. This isn’t about me, I see that. I also see how it looks. It’s not my fault Steven Smithson has been embroiled in the case. It’s also not my fault that someone I met up with a couple of times just happened to be at a house we were staking out last night. All these things were beyond my control. As for the job, I will never give it any less than my all and you know it. I slipped up last night, and I know that may seem unforgivable and for that I’m sorry. But, I’m on this case, I need to be.’ She wanted him to see how determined she was and she was sure he could. The thought of being at home, twiddling her thumbs in front of daytime television, alone, was enough to ensure she fought to remain at work. Holiday? That was the last thing she needed. CCTV duties, no way. She bent down and picked up the other half of the mug and threw it into the bin. ‘There, mess cleared up.’

  ‘If only all messes could be cleared up that easily. Apologise to Wyre and Jacob. Did you update the system?’

  ‘About half an hour ago. All done.’

  He bowed his head. ‘I have and I always will have full faith in your abilities to solve a crime, Harte. Don’t you dare let me down or we’ll both be for the chop.’

  She knew that he’d have pulled anyone else off the case had it been them. She swallowed and coughed back her emotions. ‘I would never let you down, sir.’ She paused. ‘I need to know what happened in the interview.’ She had to bring their conversation back to the case, back to what Steven may have said about her. ‘Was I mentioned?’

  ‘I sat in with Wyre. Dawn claims that she was dropped home by Ralph Dobbins and Steven was already there and didn’t look ruffled at all. We couldn’t see any visible cuts or bruises on his head or neck so going on what our victim said about hitting her attacker with a shoe, it’s not looking like it could be him. Saying that, he could be hiding a wound. She was in a distressed state and wasn’t totally sure of where she’d hit her attacker. As it stands right now, we don’t have enough to charge him. He’s voluntarily given his DNA which is ready for sending to the lab. To arrest him prematurely could really ruin the case, especially as you know him. At the end of the interview, once the tape was switched off, he was babbling on about how much you had it in for him. We have to watch that this doesn’t escalate. I tell you something, if your ex-husband was anything like that smarmy bastard, you have my sympathies.’

  ‘You can’t begin to imagine how bad Terry was.’ Steven really was determined to ruin her and save himself in the process. She wouldn’t let that happen, hoping that his little sound off in the interview room wasn’t the start of something bigger to come.

  ‘Go to your office, listen to the interviews and do some investigating. See what you can fathom from both interviews. I’d appreciate your thoughts as soon as possible. We have to get on top of all the evidence we have. It’s all chaos at the moment, evidence and investigation strands coming in from everywhere. I want order.’

  ‘I’ll do that and I’ll call forensics, see if any results are available to us. We need something soon. Why does it all take so long?’

  ‘I know. Not enough resources to go around, but we’ll get there and you will. I know you will. Get to it.’ He straightened his tie and smiled as he left.

  Gina’s phone pinged with a message.

  It would be awful if the press got hold of the fact that we were lovers and you got me arrested. Why are you following me about, Gina?

  More to the point, why was Rex still texting her after she’d asked him not to? Her head began to pound as even more pressure built up. She slammed her hand onto the worktop. Her finger hovered over reply. No, she would never reply again. What would be, would be. Replying would look even worse. Another message followed.

  Were you watching me? Fancied a bit of what we were up to? I know you like to be in control, a bit kinky. You like messing me around. Is this why you pulled me in? This time I get to mess you around. See how you like it. The press want to interview me, saw me coming out of the station. Should I oblige?

  The last thing she needed was the press linking such a high profile case to her personally. That would be her end. She knew from the emails that had been sent that the press were hassling them for more information and they weren’t about to stop. Now they were hanging around in the car park, fishing for witnesses who were prepared to give them a story.

  How was everything going so wrong? She kicked a filing cabinet and gasped for breath, anger welling from her core. Pacing up and down, she struggled to see how things could improve. She had to make headway on the case before she was well and truly kicked off it or worse, suspended. She re-tied her messy hair, took a deep breath and entered the interview room, calmly smiling. She would start with her apologies. Time was ticking.

  Fifty

  Almost out of breath, I approach the back of Aimee’s house. Coming here is risky, especially after all that’s happened, but I need to see you. My lovely girl – I missed you, but hey, a man has needs and you’re not fulfilling any of mine as yet. My head aches a touch and it’s a bit chilly this morning. I should have gone home to change but here I am instead. I grin. I won’t tell you what I’ve been up to, a man has his secrets.

  I feel my stomach. I’m quite fit, you know, Aimee. I’ve been following your programme on YouTube. It’s just the job. Soon you will feel the results for yourself. I run my hand across my firm stomach, not quite a six pack but it’s under there. A few more pounds off and a bit more work on ton
ing and fitness and I’ll be someone you’ll be proud of. I don’t know how long I can wait though. If I close my eyes, I can smell you, taste you and feel your curls running through my fingers. I love how your hair curls.

  I feel a stir in my jeans. You do this to me. You’re doing this to me. I close my eyes and think of you. I need you. I’ve waited too long already. Flinching, I let go of my crotch. What was that?

  Damn it! What’s she doing here? I thought she was at work. She normally works Saturdays. I scarper along the path and head towards the main road, waiting until she’s gone. Bag flung over shoulder, earphones plugged in, she almost walks to the beat as closely as her bulky frame will allow. That’s the housemate out the way and I’m ready to go in.

  The stupid friend doesn’t notice a thing and carries on down the road. Let’s have some alone time, just you and me.

  Fifty-One

  Aimee plunged her hands into the washing-up bowl and began scrubbing the breakfast bowls. So much had happened in the last few days. The local news had reported yet another incident the previous night. She glanced at the back door. The key was still on the kitchen table, where she’d left it after locking the door.

  There was a knock at the front door. She wasn’t expecting anyone. It could be Rhys, the police, post. She abandoned the washing-up and stared down the dark hall at the front door, contemplating her next move. It was as if she was standing in treacle, her body slowly turning to stone.

  Another knock. A faint silhouette filled the small narrow window at the side of the door. It looked like the caller was holding a parcel. Had she ordered something? No, not a thing except a replacement gym mat for the one that had a tear in it. That was a couple of weeks ago and she’d been in battle with the company over a replacement. She exhaled and shook her hands, feeling her senses return to normal. The caller was about to leave. She darted to the door and opened it. ‘Sorry about that, I was just elbow deep in the washing-up.’ The caller wasn’t holding a parcel, it was a bag.

  Slamming through the door, he knocked Aimee halfway across the hallway. She grappled with the bannister, cold with shock as she pulled herself up and ran into the kitchen, pushing the door. If only she could close it, she could wedge it with a chair. Gasping, she reached for the chair. As she did, he slammed his way through.

  He wiped his arm over his sweat-lined forehead. The faint red mark on his neck was revealed as he reached out towards her, his T-shirt shifting slightly. ‘Please, please don’t hurt me. I know you don’t want to hurt me.’ He grinned as he pulled a mallet from his bag.

  ‘Oh, but I want to. You make me want to, but first, I have to teach you a lesson.’

  Her legs buckled as he brought the mallet down. She dodged out of the way making him hit the table. She could see he was seething now. She ran for the door, she’d locked it. The key. It was on the table. She’d locked the back door to keep herself safe, now she felt anything but. ‘Please, don’t hurt me.’

  ‘You just can’t see what you’ve done, can you?’

  ‘See what, tell me.’ Maybe she could keep him talking.

  ‘What you do. The way you are! You’re just like her.’ He brought the mallet down. She guarded her head with her hands, feeling the strength in his blow as it made impact with her wrist and forearm.

  The neighbour’s dog began to bark as it ran down the garden. It knew she was in trouble. Barney had been trying to warn her and she hadn’t listened. She knew someone was watching her and she’d been right. ‘Barney,’ she called, hoping that the dog would continue to cause a nuisance and attract her neighbour’s attention.

  ‘Shut up, bitch.’

  ‘Barney.’

  She went to stand. Knocking on the window would cause more noise. As she did, he struck her head with the mallet until her flecked vision faded. She could hear the dog but she could no longer shout. Dribble ran down her chin and her ear began to ring.

  ‘The other one died on me, she deserved it too – it was a bit too soon but it was always going to happen. You’re not going to die, not yet. Stand.’ He pulled her by the arm.

  She tried to stand but her legs gave way. Collapsing back onto the floor, the room spun. Her vision – it was like she was looking through a tunnel, a long tunnel with a fuzzy wall. The ringing was louder, then it became constant and piercing. The tugging on her arm, more violent. She was sure she was walking, either that or the hallway was moving, like she was on an escalator. Daylight, rain, wet. Her hair, rain, or was it blood? The car on her drive. She’d parked on the road, so she thought. Barney, he was still barking. His owner was shouting out the back door, she could hear it over the house. Sobbing, she knew that meant he wasn’t looking out of his front window. Bushes, that’s all there were at the side of her house. Her large lean-to shimmered ahead. Was it shimmering?

  She felt her teeth rub on the blanket that lined the back seat of the car. A prick to her neck was the last thing she felt before he covered her up with another blanket. ‘Where are you taking me—’

  Sleep, so tired, so sore, nightmares, Jade, blood, he was chasing her. The river, she was falling and falling. Choking. No, she was in her bedroom, Rhys stared at her with bloodshot eyes, grinning as he blocked off the bedroom and then there was Sally, her client. Sally was after her too. They all wanted to hurt her. They were all in it together.

  Rumbling sounds, maybe she was still in a car. Was she in a car? Relaxed muscles. Deeper and deeper she fell into the abyss of her mind. Breathe – she couldn’t. The smell, diesel and air freshener. Deeper and deeper. The rumbling of the engine, so relaxing. She wanted to fall. Count. One, two, thre—

  Pain, gravel piercing skin. Daylight, now darkness. She closed her eyes, wanting to sleep. A sliding door, clanking.

  His robotic voice echoed through the room. ‘And of course there was Jade. After all those years I never thought I’d see her again. You, young lady, you are part of that same problem. It was meant to be you but when I saw her there, I just knew I had to take care of business. I couldn’t let it go and I can’t let you go.’

  Uncontrollable sobs filled her lungs. Her brain wasn’t working, it kept drawing her back to the dark abyss. She couldn’t fight it.

  ‘And all I wanted was a normal life and from the beginning it was never going to be. She brought those men into our lives. When that happens, people get hurt. I had to stop you before you became that person. Pretty little Aimee will always be Pretty little Aimee. Don’t be sad, I’m helping you. I can’t let you ever become like her.’

  She listened as his sobs sounded in time with hers. Hypnotically, they lured her back where she wanted to be. Her sobs softened to the rhythm of his, until silence took over. The abyss was waiting.

  Fifty-Two

  As the interview with Steven came to an end on replay, Gina’s face burned with embarrassment. Just as the tape was switched off, her name was mentioned and she knew what had come after, Briggs had told her. Her phone call to forensics hadn’t given her anything new to go on as yet. Their mystery attacker was still preserving his anonymity.

  Briggs had messaged a few minutes ago and prepared a brief press release, appealing for witnesses to Sophie Dobbin’s attack. Another reason for the press to hang around for a scoop.

  She flicked open her notepad. There was something that had been bothering her, something she needed to investigate. If Rex had sent her the flowers and the chocolates, she needed to know. She had the name of the flower shop. Smith had seen their van pull in and she knew the only florist that worked on Cleevesford High Street was Blossom’s Bouquets. She’d called them, giving them the time and date of the delivery. An email on her personal account pinged up on her phone.

  Hi Gina,

  Just following up on your call earlier. I’ve had a look at our order book and can confirm that the sender of your gifts was a man called Trevor and he paid in cash. I don’t have a surname unfortunately or any further contact details. Hope that helps.

  Hayley – Blossom’s Bouquets.
>
  Her mind whirled with everything that was happening. The flowers, a man called Trevor. She didn’t know anyone called Trevor so why would anyone of that name send her flowers and chocolates? Paid cash – it was obvious that Trevor was not Trevor, but who was he? Was he Rex? If so, she had no idea why Rex would just not send them using his own name. The concealment felt more like harassment. The thought of someone playing with her made her skin crawl. She had to tell someone, she should tell Briggs. CCTV, maybe the shop could show her exactly who this person was. Her investigation wasn’t official. She had no right to demand it, she’d have to rely on the goodwill of the florist when it came to giving it to her. She replied.

  Hi Hayley,

  Thank you so much for getting back to me – much appreciated. I don’t know of anyone called Trevor and I’m a little concerned for my safety. I know this is a lot to ask but do you have CCTV? Is there any way I can get hold of a screen grab of the sender. I would be hugely grateful if you could assist me in getting to the bottom of this.

  Many thanks,

  Gina.

  Before hitting send, she was tempted to finish the reply off with DI Gina Harte but this was a personal investigation at present and she’d done enough damage for one week. She wouldn’t use her DI status to get what she wanted. She’d only just smoothed things over with Jacob and Wyre, the last thing she wanted to do was upset anyone else on the team.

  The name Trevor ran through her mind. The harder she thought, the less she came up with. She stared at her email hoping that the florist would hurry with her reply. Another message pinged up.