by Carol Wyer
Chris had been killed in January and she had her own way of handling the loss – revenge. She was convinced her boss, Superintendent Dickson, had also played a part in Chris’s death and for that he would pay. Chris, ever the journalist, had left behind a handwritten journal and a file on his computer, both suggesting Dickson was corrupt.
The journal stated Dickson was involved in a paedophile ring that Chris had been investigating. The trail had led him to a gentlemen’s club where underage sex workers had been offered to club members. That discovery had cost Chris his life. He’d stumbled across more than he realised when he interviewed one of the club members, a man responsible for the death of one of the young prostitutes and who, soon afterwards, hired a hitman to silence Chris.
Dickson had not only been friends with the murderer, but had stayed overnight in the room next door to him on the night the boy had died. Although Dickson claimed to have no knowledge of what had transpired, Kate didn’t believe him.
The file on Chris’s computer listed the names of police officers believed to be corrupt. Dickson’s name was among many she knew, including her mentor and boss, DCI William Chase. William had been her father’s friend and partner long before she had begun working under him. After her father had passed away, he’d stepped in and become a father figure, mentoring her as she made her way up the ranks. Whether DCI Chase was corrupt or not, Kate was concentrating her efforts on finding out the truth about Dickson. She had a hunch he’d been involved in hiring the hitman, whether by suggestion, or actually assisting his friend in tracking down a man on the dark web. For that reason alone, Dickson had become her primary focus. She owed it to Chris.
In truth, she didn’t need anyone else – not even Tilly – because she still had Chris. At least, a manufactured version of her deceased husband, created out of need and despair: a version that existed only in her mind. It was insane. Any psychiatrist would advise her to let go of such an unhealthy practice. But, as aware as she was of what she was doing, she was not going to stop pretending. Behaving as she did might not be normal, yet it worked for her. She was perfectly satisfied with things as they were – her and Chris, working together to bring Dickson to justice.
‘Jeez, is that the time already?’ Tilly’s local accent had vanished during her years abroad. She’d embraced everything her new home had to offer, including the Australian drawl.
‘It’s okay.’
She sprang to her feet. ‘No, no. I ought to let you get some sleep.’
‘Really, it’s fine. I don’t sleep much these days.’
A frown tugged at Tilly’s perfectly arched eyebrows. ‘Yeah, I can’t even begin to imagine how hard it’s been for you.’ She picked up the silver-framed photograph on the table beside her chair. Something in Kate wanted to snap at her stepsister, make her put back the picture, but she bit her lip. Tilly wasn’t doing anything wrong. Kate was simply accustomed to not having guests or visitors. Her self-imposed isolation had made her super-protective of her personal effects, especially those that reminded her strongly of Chris. It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision to allow Tilly and Daniel to stay overnight rather than travel back to their rented accommodation in Stafford where they’d been living for the last five days.
‘I wish I’d met Chris. He sounded great, Kate. A good man.’
‘He was.’ She didn’t want to talk about her husband. Tilly had stolen Kate’s first love, Jordan, but she would never have taken Chris. He might have convinced Kate to rekindle her relationship with her stepsister, but had circumstances been different, and he’d still been alive, she would have kept the contact to a minimum, perhaps via telephone or Skype. But with Chris gone, there was no possibility of history repeating itself.
Although he was dead, Kate felt closer to him than when he’d been alive. She would frequently picture him by her side and hold conversations with him.
‘Stay calm, Kate, she’ll shut the fuck up in a minute.’ His imagined whispering made her smile. Tilly misinterpreted it for a fond memory and replaced the photo with a small sigh.
‘So, what have you got planned for us tomorrow?’ She corrected herself with a giggle. ‘I mean today.’
‘I thought we’d take Daniel to Drayton Manor Theme Park. I’m sure we can find plenty there to entertain both him and us.’
‘They’ve got a wine tent then, have they?’ Tilly gave another snigger, dragging Kate back through time, to a past in which they’d shared a bedroom and established common ground. Kate had hated her father for finding love again, almost as much as Tilly had despised her mother, Ellen, for marrying Kate’s father. The resentful girls had sought solace and companionship in each other.
‘Probably not wise to glug wine immediately before going on some of the scarier rides.’
‘Nah, it’s a bloody good idea. It might make me brave enough to face getting on them and stop me from screaming my head off, or wetting my knickers.’ She didn’t mean it. Not much fazed Tilly. Not these days. She ran a women’s shelter in Sydney and had come across all sorts of horror and misery. Kate admired her for standing up for those who’d gone through hell. She was aiming for light-hearted and Kate rewarded her with a small smile. Tilly slumped onto another chair, the one Chris had always sat in, and in spite of herself, Kate winced at the action. Tilly’s face turned serious. ‘Listen, I’ve said it before but I want to say it face to face. For what it’s worth, I’m truly sorry about how things turned out. I don’t only mean about Chris. I mean about me . . . Jordan . . . you . . . everything.’
‘It’s water under the bridge.’
‘All the same, I had to say it.’ She lifted dark, damp eyes and, for a second, Kate believed the freshly formed tears were for her until Tilly spoke again. ‘I can’t believe they both died within weeks of each other.’ The sadness was for her mother, Ellen. Following her divorce from Kate’s father, Ellen had joined Tilly and Jordan in Australia, where she had died in a freak motorbike accident only a month after Kate’s father had passed away in the UK.
‘Spooky, eh?’
‘Mum thought the world of Jordan. She’d have been devastated about us splitting up. Funnily enough, it was soon after she’d gone. I realised he’d been playing me for a fool.’
Kate said nothing. Tilly had already spoken at length about the break-up. Jordan had been seeing another woman behind her back. The ensuing argument had resulted in an irate Tilly grabbing her son, along with a few personal items, before heading to a hotel and booking a flight to the UK, to the only person she could count on as a friend – Kate.
Tilly dabbed at her eyes with a tissue then said, ‘What goes around comes around.’ Kate didn’t see it the same way. Now, looking back, Kate realised her stepsister probably hadn’t intended to steal Jordan from her. She’d been attracted to his inner strength, his composure and kindness, and he, in turn, to her fragility. Kate, his fiancée at the time, had been independent and assured, whereas Tilly had triggered a ‘knight-in-shining-armour’ response. In retrospect, they had made a better match than she and Jordan. Tilly might have run off with Jordan, but it didn’t necessarily follow that she deserved to be unhappy, nor did little Daniel, who would now not see his father. She was about to say so when Tilly spoke.
‘I took Daniel to the old place in Uttoxeter yesterday.’
‘You didn’t tell me that.’
‘It looked the same, apart from a fresh lick of paint and some fixed baskets on the window ledges.’ Tilly was referring to their home. The eighteenth-century, two-storey house in Balance Street had been in dire need of renovation, but it was close to the police station where her father had worked. With tired décor and out-of-date fittings, it had still exuded a grandeur. Kate remembered being charmed by the fanlight over the front door and the columns on either side, making her feel as if she were entering a temple.
Tilly was still talking. ‘The town’s changed quite a bit and that new retail park – wow! Daniel loved the CineBowl.’ The CineBowl was a large entertainment centre
with an ice rink, an eight-lane tenpin bowling alley and a cinema. Back when Kate and Tilly had lived in Uttoxeter, the only entertainment had been a few shops, a small cinema and Bramshall Park, where both girls had spent most of their free time.
‘I’ve not been to Uttoxeter for ages,’ said Kate. Although she’d inherited the family house, she’d sold it and used the proceeds to pay off the mortgage on her own home, one she would never leave because Chris still lived there, in spirit if not in body.
Tilly chewed at her bottom lip before saying, ‘I couldn’t face going to the park.’
Bramshall Park held horrific memories for Tilly, who’d been attacked and raped there when she was only fourteen. That event, along with a deep admiration for her father, had led to Kate joining the police so she might be able to help others like Tilly find justice.
She continued, ‘I’m worried that I’ll never be able to go back there.’
‘It wasn’t your fault, what happened.’
‘Maybe I was dressed too—’
‘You were a schoolgirl. You dressed the same way as almost every girl that age did. You weren’t to blame.’ Kate’s voice rose. After the ordeal, Tilly had shut herself off from her numerous friends and gradually faded away, eaten up by a mixture of fear and self-loathing. It had almost been her undoing.
Unbeknown to her mother and Kate’s father, she had been in a far worse state than either suspected and had it not been for Kate, who’d come home earlier than expected, Tilly would have taken her own life. Kate brushed aside the memory of the pills lined up on her dressing table. Tilly had only swallowed three or four before Kate burst in and caught her in the act. She’d rushed her to the bathroom, forced her to be sick and then disposed of the remaining pills. She’d cradled her stepsister while she sobbed and then promised never to mention the episode to either parent. It had remained their secret to this day.
Kate let a brief silence rest between them then said gently, ‘We never really talked openly about what happened in Bramshall Park. I mean, I knew what happened, but we never discussed it, stepsister to stepsister, did we?’
‘I couldn’t open up to anyone. I couldn’t tell my mum, you or, later, even Jordan. I struggled terribly until he suggested I attended a meeting for rape victims in Sydney. After listening to other women talk about their experiences, I finally opened up. I told them things I didn’t tell you, or even the police at the time.’
Kate’s eyes opened wide. ‘You kept information from the police?’
‘I was a kid – an utterly terrified kid. Talking about it at the time only made me relive the whole horrible experience, minute by minute, second by second. It was an endless series of questions from police officers, officials, doctors, nurses, counsellors . . . I became so muddled. I wanted everyone to stop asking questions and leave me alone.
‘They were never going to find the bastard who raped me, were they? And if they had, what would have happened next? Humiliating court appearances, my name in the newspapers, everyone knowing . . . knowing I was raped and judging me, saying I probably deserved it.’
‘No! They wouldn’t have—’
‘You don’t know that! I believed I deserved it, so why wouldn’t they? Anyway, I couldn’t face any of it. It was easier to give them the minimum amount of information and go home.’
There was little sense in pointing out that Tilly could have helped find the person who attacked her and possibly saved others from suffering the same fate. It was clear from her expression that she already knew the consequences of her inaction, and it was another piece of shame she carried around with her. ‘What did you leave out of your statement? Did you see his face?’
‘No. He wore a balaclava. I couldn’t give them a description. I omitted some details about the actual rape, the really embarrassing stuff.’ Her lips trembled. ‘He was rough. He jumped me and forced me to the ground, face first, and pinned me down. He hissed that I was a “filthy, disgusting bitch” and other vile, offensive things the whole time he was raping me. And he called me by my name.’
‘He knew your name? Did you recognise his voice?’
‘No. The balaclava muffled it and he spoke so low and menacingly, like a growl, I couldn’t make it out. I was so scared, Kate. I was desperate for it to be over. I wasn’t even sure he’d let me live afterwards. I thought he was going to kill me.’
‘Don’t go back to Uttoxeter. Don’t punish yourself,’ said Kate.
Tilly shrugged. ‘Visiting the place where it happened might help me put it all behind me, once and for all. Recently, the nightmares have become worse, probably because of the stress over Jordan.’
Kate was about to offer more placatory advice, but Tilly shook herself and offered a small smile. ‘Maybe, once I’m more settled in, I’ll be able to return to the exact spot where it happened; after all, I’ve visited Uttoxeter now. It’s a step in the right direction.’
‘Possibly so. But you don’t have to force yourself to visit the site or remind yourself of what occurred.’
‘I do if I want to start a new life here.’
A burst of warmth flooded Kate’s veins as she acknowledged it would be lovely to have her stepsister and nephew around. The plan was for Tilly to stay for a few weeks to find her feet then, if Daniel seemed okay with everything, they’d go back to tie up her affairs in Australia before returning for good.
‘I’m doing what I can to get settled. I’ve even got in touch on Facebook with a few of my old schoolfriends from back then.’ She reeled off a few names Kate remembered. ‘And a couple of weeks ago, I got a friend request from Ryan Holder. Do you remember him?’
The name rang a bell, although his face evaded her. She shook her head.
‘He was a few years above us in school. In terms of looks, he wasn’t really my usual type, but I hoped by going out with him, one of his better-looking mates would notice me.’ She grimaced. ‘It worked and I dropped him like the proverbial hot coal. Anyhow, he’s forgiven me for dumping him. Said he deserved it because he was such a nerd.’
‘Is he married?’
‘No. But I’m not interested in him in that way. He isn’t interested either. We’ve been having a bit of a giggle about stuff and the people back then. I forgot that he was such easy company. It’s been nice to have other memories to think about rather than what happened that day in Bramshall Park.’ Her face clouded over momentarily, then she gave a small shake of her head as if to shake off the thoughts. ‘Enough of this maudlin crap. No more dragging up the past. We should be concentrating on the future and deciding what to do with it. It’s great to have you back in my life, Kate. I’ve missed you.’
‘I’ve missed you too, Tilly.’
Kate rose from her chair and made for the oak cabinet where she kept the whisky – a collection amassed over the time she and Chris had been together. It had been his favourite tipple and he’d taught her how to appreciate a fine whisky to the point where she now enjoyed them as much as he had. ‘Fancy a nightcap?’
‘Why not?’
She reached for a single malt, not one of the more expensive bottles Chris had purchased during one of his overseas assignments. There were some things she wasn’t willing to share with Tilly. She dragged out two crystal tumblers. ‘Tell me about the kangaroos. I read somewhere that there are two red kangaroos for every person living in Australia.’
Tilly chuckled. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me. There was a large mob of them on the golf course last week.’
‘Playing golf? What was their handicap?’
‘The fact they can’t walk backwards.’
Kate poured the drinks and chinked her glass against Tilly’s.
‘To new beginnings,’ said Tilly.
‘To new beginnings.’
CHAPTER TWO
A thousand seagulls screeched in Kate’s head as she wrestled from a dreamless sleep to discover it was almost 10 a.m. Her mobile was trilling at full volume. She snatched it from the bedside cabinet. One whisky had turned to two, then
three, and now her tongue, a swollen piece of felt in her parched mouth, could barely move.
As it was, she didn’t have to say a great deal. DCI William Chase did all the talking. ‘Morning, Kate. I know you’re not on duty, but you’re needed urgently. The body of a young woman has been uncovered in an industrial bin outside Variations restaurant in Abbots Bromley, and we think this is definitely one for your team.’
Kate tried swallowing and managed a croaky ‘Any ID?’
‘Nothing on her.’
‘Okay. On my way.’
She cast off the duvet and stood up, catching sight of herself in the mirror. She didn’t look too bad for somebody who’d drunk more in one night than in the entire month beforehand. However, she still didn’t trust herself to drive. There was bound to be too much alcohol in her system. She rang twenty-three-year-old Emma Donaldson, one of two detective sergeants in her small team, who, judging by the grunts in the background, was at her brother Greg’s martial arts academy. Emma, the only girl in a family of seven, spent most of her free time training in Taekwondo.
‘Guv.’
‘We’ve been called in.’
Emma didn’t question her superior. She’d understood something serious had occurred.
‘Would you mind picking me up?’ asked Kate.
‘No probs. I’ll be fifteen minutes.’
‘That’s fine. See you then.’
Kate would fill her in during the drive to Abbots Bromley. She could do with a quick pick-me-up shower but she had two more people to call, the first, DS Morgan Meredith, who’d given up a promising athletic career to join the police force and who was already making a good impression on his superiors. A year older than Emma, he complemented Emma’s skills and, as far as Kate was concerned, was one of only a handful of officers she could trust. The last person she had to notify was their newest recruit, twenty-seven-year-old DC Jamie Webster, who’d transferred from Newcastle-upon-Tyne to Stoke with his pregnant wife, Chloe, and eighteen-month-old son, Zach, to be closer to his wife’s family. He was extremely keen, even willing to take on any amount of overtime in an attempt to procure promotion and the increase in salary it would bring to help support his ever-growing family.