Her Dark Heart: A totally gripping crime thriller (Detective Gina Harte Book 5)

by Carla Kovach

  Folding her arms, Clare stood straight. ‘Did you know he caught her meeting up with another man? She was having an affair, Mum. Maybe you should be looking for this guy, not scrutinising Ryan. I bet you never wondered why their marriage had gone sour, so quickly. You never stopped to think about that. He said he tried to work on their relationship, tried to understand but she wouldn’t talk to him. She wasn’t happy with him, you’re right about that, but it was because she was receiving her fair share of happiness, if you want to call it that, from someone else.’

  Mary stomped over, almost pressing her nose against Clare’s. ‘How… bloody… dare you. I didn’t realise you hated her so much, your own sister.’

  ‘And that sums up our relationship. Susan can do no wrong. Little angelic Susan who always gets away with everything. You are so blind, you know that? She ruined her marriage, she was having an affair and all you do is blame Ryan. She’s probably with him, the other man. You forget what we all went through back then and it was all Susan’s fault. I was the good one and you, you always did pick on me.’

  Bursting into tears, Mary went to embrace her daughter. She realised there was some truth in Clare’s words. She’d overstepped the mark. ‘I’m so sorry, love.’

  ‘Get off me. I don’t suppose you know but the night she disappeared was the first time Ryan had been able to have the girls overnight. She didn’t tell you that, did she?’

  Falling into the chair, Mary wiped her eyes. ‘It seems she didn’t tell me much.’

  ‘After their split, she was using the kids. He just wants to be a good dad, Mum. He just wants to see the kids and she was stopping him. He now thinks she only agreed to them going over for tea that night so that she could go off and do whatever she was doing. Selfish, as always. You know, I’d kill for Harrison to have a dad in his life.’ Clare gazed into the distance.

  ‘But that’s not how one-night stands work, my love.’

  Before Mary could look up, Clare had stormed out of the room. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth shut, just this once? What Clare said was all true but Mary couldn’t help herself. There was something about Clare. She was brash and outspoken, and had always needed bringing down a peg or two. Not like Susan. Susan was a polite child, a studious child, until she turned thirteen, after that she’d just been withdrawn.

  She thought of Susan. Images of her hurting herself or being abducted filled her mind. The best-case scenario would be that she was lying in bed with some man, drinking the day away. Maybe her free-spirited daughter had felt chained down after having Rory, given the age gap between him and the girls. She grabbed her phone and stared at it – no missed calls. Nothing from the police. Where had her family gone wrong? Where had she gone wrong? Maybe she didn’t really know Susan as well as she thought. She needed to go back to Susan’s house – alone. There had to be more to find out. Question was, did she really want to open that box, especially as it may not lead to finding her whereabouts? Pounding filled her head. The next thing she would do would be a huge breach of trust. She needed to delve a little deeper, dig into the darkest of recesses.

  She sent Howard a message. Her husband and daughter could fend for themselves for a change.

  I won’t be around for tea. Best pick up a takeaway on the way home.

  It wouldn’t feel right, rooting through Susan’s more personal belongings, but there was no way she was going to sit around twiddling her thumbs. Secrets were made to be uncovered, even if what was uncovered wasn’t what she hoped for.

  Fifteen

  ‘Let’s hope this address gives us the answers we need.’ Gina stepped out of the car into an iced-over puddle. The long dirt track had no doubt taken its toll on her car’s suspension and with the potholes she’d be surprised if there was no damage done at all. The small grey bungalow sat in the middle of a concrete pavilion. The front door that was in the centre of the building looked scratched beyond repair. She glanced at the plaque. ‘Happy Paws Dog Hotel.’

  ‘Looks like they have a lot of doggy traffic here.’ Jacob stepped over a lump of dog muck to join her at the front door, where she knocked.

  ‘Yes, don’t be treading that back in the car.’

  He grinned as he stepped over another pile after pretending to step in it. She gave him a friendly nudge with her elbow.

  The barking filled her ears as the woman fought to open the door. ‘Get in,’ she yelled as she slammed an interior door before opening the main door to greet them from the porch. Gina didn’t know what she was expecting, but a woman who looked to be in her late twenties opened the door. ‘Sorry about that. How can I help you?’

  ‘I’m DI Harte, this is DS Driscoll. We were hoping that you could help us with one of our enquiries. Do you know a Susan Wheeler?’

  The young woman paused and shivered. ‘It’s cold out here, come in a minute. I recognise the name and I can’t think why. What’s happened?’

  ‘We’re trying to locate her, that’s all.’

  She clicked her fingers. ‘I remember. The bookkeeper.’

  Gina nodded as she was led into a small snug. The exposed brick above the empty log burner gave the place a chilly feel. Three chairs had been placed in a row along with a coffee table containing a few filthy magazines.

  ‘This is where I normally bring clients while they wait, so the dogs don’t escape. Take a seat.’ Gina blew into her hands and rubbed them together as she removed her gloves. ‘I’m sorry it’s so cold. I only heat this room when I’m expecting a client; I was just about to light the fire. It costs a fortune running this place and my next appointment isn’t due for a short while. If only I’d have known two years ago what I know now, I’d have kept my office job. Love the job, hate all the responsibilities, especially the paperwork. That’s why I called Susan. I saw her Facebook page and lots of people recommended her online.’

  ‘When did you see her?’

  ‘Tuesday. She agreed to take me on as a client. She left with my last accounting quarter and said she’d have it all done by the end of next week. It was such a relief to hand it all over to her, I was slowly sinking.’ The woman paused and the sound of barking dogs picked up once again. ‘You’ll have to excuse them. They are rather noisy. It’s a good job I have no neighbours. Has something happened?’

  Jacob opened his notebook. Gina watched his shivering hands try to write the date on the top of the page. ‘Apologies. What’s your name first of all?’

  ‘Michaela Daniels.’

  ‘Do you live here alone? It’s out of the way.’

  The woman nodded. ‘Yes, I drive and Cleevesford is only a few minutes away in the car.’ She dragged the third chair across the old carpet, digging up the thread a little, then she sat. Jacob noted down a few more details before they continued.

  ‘How was Susan Wheeler when she arrived?’ Gina leaned back in the old chair, feeling it creak. She moved back to her original position. The last thing she needed was the chair collapsing on her.

  ‘She was slightly late and I’m sure she mumbled something about getting lost. That’s nothing new around here. She came through to the main part of the house, met the dogs and then we came back here. She was lovely with the dogs actually, petting them and talking to them. I warmed to her straight away. Not a lot happened after that, I explained to her how my business worked. We went through my bank statements, invoices and such. I offered her a drink after and she turned it down, saying that she had another appointment before she could get off for the day. That was it.’

  ‘Did she mention anything about her other appointment?’

  One of the dogs began pounding against the door. ‘Buddy, calm down. He’s a live wire. He’s been starting the rest of them off and,’ she checked her watch, ‘it’s nearly walk time. About her next appointment, she didn’t say anything. She did say she had to get to the other side of Cleevesford within twenty minutes. Has something happened? You didn’t answer me earlier.’

  Gina stood and began stepping, side to side, in an attempt to
warm up. She could barely feel her toes under her thick socks. ‘If you hear from her, please contact us immediately. Here’s my card. She didn’t arrive home on Tuesday and we are just a little concerned.’

  ‘What a shame. She did mention her children. We made a joke about children and animals being so demanding. We laughed about it before we started. She stayed about thirty minutes and, as I say, she took my paperwork and left. I hope she’s okay, she seemed really nice.’

  ‘We hope she’s okay too. Thank you for talking with us. Anything else, please do give us a call.’ Gina headed back towards the door.

  With Jacob trailing behind, Michaela bustled ahead and opened the front door. An icy breeze blasted the hallway, blowing dead leaves into the porch. Between the whistling of the wind and the barking dogs, Gina could barely hear herself think. The grey sky settled on the horizon and frost twinkled on the shrubs that lined the property. Gina knew it was set to worsen as a hailstone bounced off her nose. In the space of a couple of hours, the wintery sun had given way to the grey blanket above.

  ‘Thank you,’ Jacob said as he followed Gina.

  Michaela closed the door and they hurried towards the car. Jacob slipped on a patch of ice, almost losing his balance.

  ‘That was a close one. Nearly landed on your arse.’ Gina couldn’t help but laugh.

  As she went to open the door, Michaela ran out of the main door, pulling her hood up as she did so. ‘I don’t know how relevant this is but I just remembered something.’

  Gina felt her heart flutter as she hoped for a fresh lead.

  ‘I watched her from the window as she left and given that she was in quite a hurry, she stood by her car and spoke on her phone for a couple of minutes. She looked frustrated, pacing back and forth, arms up and down. Actually, she looked fed up more than anything. It’s probably nothing. The amount of phone calls I make that make me fed up, this could mean nothing, especially when I’ve been talking to my infuriating family, but I thought I should mention it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Gina replied with a smile. ‘If you remember anything further, call me.’

  Maybe their next stop on the list would enlighten them as to what had made Susan so angry on the afternoon she went missing.

  Sixteen

  With Rory at nursery, Mary had a few hours to delve into her daughter’s life. She hadn’t come to check out Susan’s paperwork or to look for diary entries; she’d come to find out who Susan really was. Was she the downtrodden wife who had no freedom? Or, was she having an affair and using her children to get what she wanted from Ryan? She removed the rubber gloves and enjoyed the fresh smell that flowed through the house now that she’d given everything a good scrub and polish.

  Gazing around her daughter’s bedroom, she felt a little easier about seeing it again given how messy and cold it had been. Mary had changed the bed, cleaned everything up and left the heating on a timer to warm the house a little. The musty smell had been replaced by that of furniture polish, fresh laundered sheets and lemon bleach. At least when Susan did return, she would come back to a clean house.

  She opened the large door of the fitted wardrobe and slammed it closed again. It felt like an intrusion. Taking a deep breath, she opened it once again, peering through as if something may burst out from the back. Mary may have cleaned up the room but she hadn’t gone through the cupboards or looked under the bed. With shaking hands, she pulled back a few hangers that had dresses dangling from them. Under the crumpled up hemlines, piles and piles of random clothing that didn’t belong began to slip onto the floor. Bras tangled in T-shirts. Odd socks and yoga pants. Nothing was in an orderly fashion. Why had Mary not seen how chaotic Susan’s personal life was becoming? She leaned down and picked up the crumpled clothes, stuffing them back amongst the others in the hope that they would remain in the pile.

  She fished through the slot at the top. Jeans, old jumpers and even a kitchen apron were stuffed together. Next to those, Mary pulled out a pile of socks and noticed the faint smell coming from them. Dirty items contaminated the crumpled clean items and were all mixed up, making it almost impossible to tell one from the other. Her mind wandered back to a couple of years ago when Mary was helping Susan to declutter a little. Her dirty clothes hadn’t been mixed with her clean ones back then, so why would they be like that now?

  What had happened to Susan to cause such a big change?

  As Mary gripped a T-shirt with what looked like a blueberry stain down the front she had a flash back to the week following Susan’s fifteenth birthday. Mother and daughter had been in battle for what felt like years over the state of Susan’s room. It was as if adult Susan had regressed back to this period. Mary remembered gripping the little green shoebox all those years ago. ‘If you don’t clean up this mess, I’ll clean it up myself, starting with the rubbish in this box,’ Mary had shouted, knowing full well that Susan hated her even being in her bedroom. After tugging the green box, back and forth, Susan finally won the battle. She’d clung on to that box like her life had depended on it. She’d sobbed in a way that everyone in the house would hear, and then she’d cleaned her room. When Susan went to school the following day, Mary went back to her bedroom in search of the box, but it hadn’t been there. What was in it had remained a secret to this day.

  Mary left the wardrobe behind and headed over to the bed and sat. Maybe this was her opportunity to turn over every nook and cranny of her daughter’s house. She had nowhere to go and no one was expecting her until five thirty, when she would pick Rory up. Howard and Clare could fend for themselves. She closed her eyes, taking in the silence – something she’d not had the luxury of enjoying for a long time. With Harrison always creating drama amongst the household, quietness was a rarity.

  Mary flinched as a flurry of hailstones scatter-bombed the bedroom window. Darkness had fallen and it was still early afternoon. She switched the bedroom lamp on, suddenly able to see everything more clearly.

  Kneeling on the floor, she slid out the bed drawer and her shoulders dropped. There was nothing but stacks of crumpled bedding. Running her fingers through all the linen, something prevented her from reaching the edge of the drawer. Cardboard: a box. Dragging everything out, the scruffy object was in full view. Not the green box that Mary remembered, but a smaller blue box. But still it was a box, a box that Mary hoped would contain all of Susan’s innermost secrets, secrets that could lead her to understanding where Susan might be.

  Seventeen

  ‘I hate this weather, guv. I’m like a cat. I prefer dry and warm, preferably cosy.’ Jacob grabbed his scarf from the back seat and wrapped it around his neck. Gina noticed that he had missed shaving a bit of his jawline. Action Man had missed a bit. Jacob would always look like an Action Man to Gina with his short, sprayed on hair look and handsomely chiselled jaw. ‘Do you think there’s anyone in? It looks dark in there.’

  ‘I guess we’ll find out in a minute.’ She glanced down at the printed information sheet she had on their next interviewee. ‘So we know where we’re at. His name is Dale Blair, thirty-five years old. O’Connor checked him out. He has an online social media presence, but only for his business. There’s not much that he shares on a personal level. In fact, he doesn’t have any personal information on view on any of his profiles. However, he is friends on Facebook with Susan and lots of other local people. Business: Dale’s Plastering Services. At least we know what he does for a living. We need to know if Susan arrived here and if so, how was she when she left. Dale could well be a person of interest in this case.’

  Jacob took her notes and glanced over them. ‘Bookkeeping. I suppose this is the type of job that makes a person vulnerable. Going to people’s houses, people you don’t know and trusting that they don’t turn out to be maniacs.’

  Gina chuckled slightly. ‘A bit like ours.’

  He snorted out a laugh as he popped a rhubarb custard sweet into his mouth. ‘Want one?’

  ‘I didn’t even know you could get these any more. No, I b
est not. You’ll regret having that filling your mouth while we’re speaking to Dale.’

  He began to crunch it swiftly. ‘It won’t last that long.’

  ‘I still haven’t seen any movement. If he’s out we’ll have to leave a card.’

  Jacob’s hand reached his cheek. ‘Damn it! I think I’ve broken a tooth. No I haven’t – phew. That could have been both painful and costly. Both, I could do without.’

  As Gina opened the car door, a gust swept past them. Hail had turned to rain and now the seats were getting wet. ‘Race you to the porch.’

  The detectives ran over to the front door, Gina knocking as she made it first. Rain bounced off the driveway, almost dancing in time to the rumble of thunder that clashed above. Lightning filled the skies.

  Gina flinched and stared at the rain crashing into the window and tried to ignore her quickening heartbeat. Deep breath. The thunder is nothing. The thunder is nothing. Images of her husband Terry flashed through her mind, followed by the sight of him at the bottom of the stairs in his dying moments. The thunder had clashed then, just like now. Another clash. She flinched, stepping back from Dale Blair’s front door. Her old front door had a half-moon window at the top, just like this one. She imagined the door opening and then seeing her younger self stooping over Terry, waiting for him to die before she called the ambulance. Hannah’s cries competing with the distant rolling of thunder that was building up to an almighty crash.

  Clash!

  ‘Guv, stand under here. You’re getting drenched.’

  She stared at him for what seemed like forever. ‘Yes.’ She hurried back into the porch. That was a long time ago, over twenty years. She shook her head and knocked again. The only thing behind that door was Dale’s dog, not Terry, not her younger self; she couldn’t say the same about her memories – they seemed to hide behind every door she ever opened.