Hush Little Baby (DC Beth Chamberlain)

by Jane Isaac

  ‘Father Bryan stepped in almost immediately. I suppose he’d helped lots of families in those circumstances. He made phone calls, came to meetings with us – at the funeral parlour, the bank. And we became friends. Or so I thought.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  A lump formed in Marie’s throat. ‘Mum came over for the funeral. After she went back and we’d sorted all the paperwork, he continued coming around. Daniel hated his visits. Didn’t like the guy, said there was something odd about him, but I was so grateful for his help and he’d been such a good friend to Gran. I think he guessed Daniel wasn’t keen because he started coming on a Wednesday, when Daniel was at football training. Sometimes we’d share a glass of wine and talk about Gran. I didn’t have any other family here. It was good to have someone to talk to. Until…’ the words cut.

  ‘Did you have relations with him?’

  A derisory snort. ‘Daniel said I was sweet on him. Kept teasing me about fancying older men, said I flirted with him, laughed at his silly jokes. Honestly, Father Bryan was old enough to be my dad. I thought he was being supportive. And he was genuinely funny and nice to have around.’

  ‘Are you saying you saw him as a father figure?’

  ‘I suppose. I never knew my own dad. Mum remarried when I was fourteen.’ She felt her shoulder rise and fall, almost of its own accord.

  ‘What exactly happened?’

  ‘He came around one Wednesday. Daniel was particularly difficult that night. It was six months to the day that Gran had passed away. He bought me flowers, said he wanted us to get on with our lives, live with our memories. He couldn’t see why the priest was still visiting, went on about me prolonging my grief, wallowing in self-pity, said I should cut him out. I brushed off his comments. Daniel hated not being centre of attention. I guess it was something to do with the way his mother was.’ She paused again. The priest had arrived minutes after Daniel left, waving a bottle of wine from side to side as she opened the door. They’d both laughed. ‘Father Bryan bought a bottle of Chardonnay. Said it was his favourite. It was the first time I drank white wine. And the last.’

  Silence hung in the room for several seconds.

  ‘We were drinking, chatting about a church sale, the usual stuff, when he moved to kiss me. I mean, right out of the blue. I pulled away, confused. Marriage is sacrament in the eyes of the church. He apologised, said he didn’t know what had come over him. I remember being uncomfortable, awkward, not quite sure how to react. I was so young. Accepting his apology, letting him fill my glass seemed the easiest option. We sat there a few minutes, forcing conversation. Him drinking his wine. But I was uneasy. I asked him to leave, to give me a chance to process what had happened. That’s when his face changed. He took the wine out of my hand. And then he was on top of me. Pressing me into the sofa. I struggled, tried to push him off. I was terrified.’

  Suddenly she was there again, pinned to the sofa. Tasting his breath – rancid, in her mouth. Feeling like a child in an adult’s world.

  ‘Afterwards, he zipped up his trousers and finished his wine, then said he’d see me in church. So matter of fact. Almost as if he’d talked me through confession.’

  ‘Did you call the police or tell anyone about the attack?’

  Attack. The word made it sound even more sordid. ‘No, I was ashamed. I kept thinking of Daniel’s chiding remarks, convincing myself it was my fault, that I’d led him on.’

  ‘You’re saying you were raped.’

  Marie nodded.

  ‘He was a priest, a trusted member of society,’ Beth said. ‘Even if you’d advanced on him, he should have turned you down. It’s not your fault.’

  Marie swallowed, desperately trying to suppress the fear groping her insides. ‘I cleaned up, had a shower. I was just drying off when Scott called in for a late coffee. I was all over the place. My face puffy from crying. I put him off, said I was tired. I was in bed when Daniel came home. The next day, I told Daniel he was right, and we should put the past behind us. I stopped going to church. Daniel seemed pleased.’

  ‘Did you see Father Bryan afterwards?’

  ‘Only once. We were invited to a christening a month later. I felt sick from the minute we got the invitation, almost didn’t go, but I didn’t want Daniel to be suspicious. And he was all charm, with both of us, said he’d missed me at church and hoped to see me soon. As if nothing had happened. When I think of him that night, the darkness in his face…’ Fresh tears burned her eyes. ‘How does someone flip like that?’

  The detective gave an empathetic smile.

  ‘He came to the house after Liam died, you know. I was upstairs with Alicia. Told Daniel to send him away. He left a card, said if he could do anything to help, to give him a call.’ The card with the teddy on it she’d found in Alicia’s memory box the other day made her shudder. How could his card, of all of them, still be there? It was like a sign, an omen that the past was coming back to haunt her. ‘I heard he moved away afterwards to Leicester and became a bishop. I put it behind me. I’ve never been to church since he left Kingsthorpe, not even for a wedding. Can’t face it.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I have to ask you this. Was Bishop Bryan the only man you had intercourse with, apart from Daniel?’

  ‘Yes!’ Marie’s head ached.

  ‘Did Scott have any inkling that something had happened when he came around that evening?’

  ‘He could see I’d been crying. I said I’d had a row with Daniel. We quarrelled a lot in those days.’

  ‘Did Scott ask you about it again?’

  ‘He called in later in the week when Daniel wasn’t home, asked if I was okay. Like I said, they didn’t get along.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  The criss-cross questions were starting to irk. ‘No. Daniel wouldn’t talk about it. But I liked Scottie, he was always nice to me. And he adored Alicia when she arrived.’

  ‘When did you last see Scott?’

  ‘I can’t remember. Sometime after Alicia died, I think. Does it matter?’

  Beth sat back in her seat, ignoring her question. ‘When did the attack occur?’ she asked. ‘I’ll need the date.’

  Marie worked it through in her mind. ‘It was the middle of September, the 12th. I did think of it when I found out I was pregnant. Was scared for a while. Then, at the twelve-week scan they told me I was carrying twins and I convinced myself it was karma. Daniel had to be the father because twins run in his family.’

  ‘But you always wondered.’

  Marie bowed her head and gave a nod.

  ‘Why didn’t you say anything when Alicia was taken?’

  ‘Because it wouldn’t have changed anything. All it would have done is cause upset and hurt to everyone.’

  ‘I’m going to need to take a statement,’ the detective said. She opened her iPad, tapped a key.

  Fear pinched at Marie. After all this time… ‘Do we need to do that? I mean, can’t we keep this to ourselves?’

  ‘I’m obliged to feed it back,’ Beth said. ‘It could have a bearing on the enquiry.’

  Marie clutched her throat. ‘You’re not suggesting Father Bryan came back and killed Alicia? He wouldn’t.’

  ‘Fathering a child wouldn’t do his career in the church any good,’ Beth said. ‘We certainly need to speak with him.’

  Marie gulped, the air wedging in her windpipe. Of all the things Father Bryan was, she couldn’t see him as a potential child murderer. The thought hadn’t even entered into her mind. Not now and certainly not when she was taken.

  The keys on Beth’s laptop clicked as she started to type. She checked back dates and times as they continued.

  ‘Can we keep this confidential?’ Marie asked forlornly. ‘It’s not just me… It would be awful for my family if this came out. And Daniel.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do. We will have to keep it to ourselves for the next couple of days in any case, Daniel is away and uncontactable. I need to ask you to keep the paternal DNA results to you
rself too, it’s important he hears it from us first.’

  ‘Please.’ Her voice was barely a whisper.

  ‘Let me speak with my boss,’ Beth said. ‘I can’t make any promises.’

  ‘I don’t want Vic to know.’

  ‘Don’t want Vic to know what?’

  Marie jumped as the door swung open and Vic entered. He seemed harassed. Zac was beside him.

  ‘Didn’t hear you guys come in,’ she said to her husband and son, quickly recovering herself. ‘You’re early.’ She stood and enveloped the boy in a hug.

  ‘They let the kids with parents go as soon as the match finished.’ Vic’s face tightened. ‘Don’t want Vic to know what?’ he repeated.

  ‘Nothing.’ She released Zac and forced a weak smile. ‘Did you have a good day?’ she said to her son.

  ‘We beat Brixworth, 3-0.’ Zac’s face lit up as he spoke, oblivious to the tightening tension in the room. ‘I scored a goal!’

  She brushed his fringe back. ‘That’s brilliant, darling. Well done.’

  ‘Take your bag upstairs, Zac,’ Vic said.

  He ruffled his son’s hair as he passed and waited until he disappeared before he spoke again. ‘You look awful,’ he said to Marie. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘I need to go,’ Beth said. ‘Call me if you need anything.’

  The sound of the front door closing reverberated through the house.

  Vic rounded on Marie. ‘Don’t want Vic to know what?’

  Marie recoiled. She couldn’t tell him now. She didn’t have the strength. ‘We’ll discuss it later.’

  ‘I don’t see why—’

  ‘When Zac’s in bed. Did they say anything at the school when you picked him up?’

  Vic shifted uncomfortably. ‘No. His friend wasn’t at school today. Miss Marsh said his mother was keeping him at home in case there was any sign of concussion. Just a precaution. Zac seemed fine. Played his socks off at the match.’

  Feet thumped the stairs and Zac appeared in the front room. Marie smiled at him. ‘We’ve got syrup cake for pudding tonight. Your favourite.’

  38

  ‘She’s alleging rape,’ Nick said. The three of them were in Freeman’s office. Nick leaning up against the radiator, arms folded across his chest. Beth sitting on a chair opposite Freeman.

  Beth nodded.

  ‘Okay,’ Freeman said. ‘I take it you’ve got the bishop’s latest address?’

  Beth had done her homework and phoned through for Pete to complete the checks on her drive back to the station. ‘Yes. He lives across the border in Leicestershire.’

  ‘And there’s no intelligence on him, no security markers?’

  Markers indicated associations or a propensity to hold firearms or weapons. A little unlikely with a priest, but it was always worth checking. ‘He’s clear.’

  ‘What about on the original investigation?’

  ‘His name doesn’t crop up. I guess if Marie was no longer going to church or in touch with him, and they didn’t know about the alleged attack, he wouldn’t have been a person of interest.’

  Father – now Bishop – Bryan, was a prominent member of the church, someone with a reputation to uphold. They needed to address the rape allegation and couldn’t ignore the fact that if he’d discovered she was pregnant and suspected the child may be his, he had a lot to lose, perhaps enough to drive him to commit abduction and murder. It was the closest they’d come to a viable motive yet and the excitement in the office was palpable.

  ‘Right. Go and visit him together. Let’s see what he’s got to say for himself.’

  Beth nodded. ‘Have you managed to get hold of Daniel Owen yet?’ she asked. Now that the DNA results were back the need to speak with him, to update him before he discovered the news elsewhere weighed heavily.

  ‘I’ve left two voicemails. He hasn’t come back to me.’

  ‘Right.’ Daniel’s unavailability made her nervous. ‘Marie has agreed to keep the test results to herself for the moment.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll keep trying.’

  *

  Beth braked at the lights. Bishop Bryan lived in Market Harborough, a small market town just across the border in neighbouring Leicestershire, almost an hour’s drive from headquarters. Shops, coffee houses and quaint old buildings lined the streets of the town centre. They passed a gothic sandstone church, its steeple reaching up to the sky.

  Nick had drifted off to sleep beside her, the long days on the investigation taking its toll.

  It was almost 4 p.m. Daniel Owen hadn’t returned their calls and his lack of contact continued to bother her. He said he switched off his phone on long hauls. Surely, he had to check in occasionally with his boss. An idea struck her. She selected a number on her car phone and placed her microphone on her ear. DC Pete Wilson answered on the second ring, his dulcet tone filling the car.

  ‘How’re you doing, Beth?’

  ‘Good, thanks. We’re five minutes away from Bishop Bryan’s house. Can you do me a favour? Can you check with the haulage company Daniel Owen works for and find out if he’s made his drop, or if there’s a collection he still needs to make? Perhaps one of the depos can give him a message to call us urgently.’ She paused. Freeman had made it clear he was to deal with Daniel direct. She didn’t want to step on his toes. ‘Let the DCI know what you find, will you?’

  The lights changed and Beth continued up the road.

  ‘Sure. I’ll get onto it now. What about his sister?’

  ‘I’ve tried her. She said he hasn’t been in touch and she’ll pass on the message if he calls.’

  Nick stirred. He sat forward, rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Pete,’ she mouthed back.

  ‘There’s something else,’ Pete said. ‘I’ve been doing some digging—’

  ‘Hold on.’ Beth clicked the control panel and slipped off her earpiece. ‘You’re on speaker.’

  ‘There’s still nothing back on Scott Owen,’ Pete said. ‘I’ve looked into the McNamara brothers’ operation. They ran the local clubs, controlled the doors on Barton’s Snooker Hall and Ruby’s Casino in town until they were killed in that car accident in 2008.

  ‘Intelligence suggests they were the biggest gang leaders during the early noughties with links to drugs, prostitution, money laundering. Their names even came up in connection with a human trafficking ring that broke in 2005, but they were far too removed to be caught near any of it.’

  ‘Who took over after they were killed?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Nigel Sherwood.’

  Beth looked at Nick. They’d arrested Sherwood earlier in the year for assault and money laundering; he was currently on remand, awaiting trial. She recalled his belligerence at the time of the arrest, his ‘no comment’ interviews. If he took over from the McNamara brothers, it was likely he’d worked for them for some years and moved up the chain of command. If Scott Owen was associated with them, he’d be well versed to advise, although he wouldn’t speak with them. Reams of intelligence indicated he was still pulling the strings, managing the gang from the inside.

  ‘Some of the senior boys in Sherwood’s circle might know about Scott’s relationship with them,’ Beth said.

  ‘If they do, they’re not talking. We sent the source handlers out to speak with their intelligence contacts in the field. Everyone’s shut down, spooked by Sherwood’s recent arrest.’

  Nick rolled his eyes. ‘That’s all we need.’

  Beth gripped the steering wheel tight for a completely different reason. Rumour had it, a local heavy named Kev Richardson had stepped into Sherwood’s shoes after his arrest. And his sidekick was Kyle Thompson, her sister’s recent love interest.

  Even though Kyle would have been in his early teens when Alicia disappeared and was unlikely to be involved, the connection was too close for comfort. She’d already been taken off one case and subjected to an internal investigation because of her sister’s association with him. His arrogance at Eden’s the
other night, his smarmy smile still riled her. She reminded herself to call DS Osborne when she was back in the office and chase the financial investigation.

  ‘I have found one person of interest,’ Pete said, jolting Beth back to the present case. ‘Jimmy Carvel. He was one of their henchmen, enforcing their debts in the early noughties, around the time Scott disappeared. Might be of interest if we can get him to talk. He’s stewing in Bedford Prison now, was put away for GBH in 2006 – apparently he set about a man with a baseball bat and cracked his skull.’

  Nick snorted. ‘Nice.’

  ‘That’s not all. Two years after his conviction he threw boiling water in an inmate’s face in prison and picked up another six years. He’s got a string of convictions on file for affray, manslaughter, aggravated burglary.’

  ‘When can we see him?’ Beth asked. Tracing Scott didn’t seem such high priority with the new information about Bishop Bryan – it wasn’t a crime for an adult to disappear without trace – but, still, there was always a chance the bishop was innocent, and it was a lead that needed bottoming out.

  ‘I’ve organised prison passes for you both to Bedford Prison tomorrow. There’s something else you should know.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You’ll be seeing him in the hospital wing. He’s got lung cancer, only a few weeks left.’

  39

  Beth steered onto the gravel driveway of an attractive Georgian house, with a square frontage, set among manicured gardens. Fingers of ivy climbed around the large sash windows. She parked beside a shiny black Audi A6.

  ‘Looks like our Bishop is doing alright for himself,’ Nick said as they climbed out of the car.

  The door was answered by a small woman dressed in a pale-pink jumper, and navy trousers. Short grey hair was styled away from her face in soft waves.

  Beth held up her badge and introduced them both. ‘Is Bishop Bryan home?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, but I’m afraid he’s with someone.’ She spoke slowly, carefully crafting each word, as if a boiled sweet was lodged in the side of her mouth.