Darkest Night

by Jenny O'Brien

  Within minutes Gaby’s phone jerked to life in her lap, scattering her thoughts and cementing her fears.

  ‘That was Jax and Malachy. They spoke to the shop assistant. Casper Stevens left early. Said he had to pick the kids up from school. They’ve tried his mobile but he’s not answering. They’re about to run a background check and try and catch up with the wife. They’re also going to run his number plate through the ANPR database. We’ll start at the shop and take it from there.’

  Her fingers drummed on the edge of her seat, her gaze on the Fiat 500 in front, weaving across the road like a maniac. In the normal course of events she’d have called it in, but she had more serious things to consider like why the hell a seemingly happily married pharmacist would go off the rails in such a devastating way. They could be wrong but, somehow, she knew that they weren’t. She recognised more than most the craziness that existed in the human psyche. But unlike the driver of the grey Fiat up ahead, most people were able to control their baser urges. So, what had tipped Stevens over the edge?

  ‘Do you want me to alert the traffic police?’ Owen said as he braked suddenly in the middle of the duel carriage way, tutting his annoyance.’

  ‘No. This is their lucky day – we have more important things than irresponsible drivers …’

  She turned to face him, resting her head against the passenger door. There was something still shading her view, some part of the case that she couldn’t get her head around and Owen was the world’s best copper to talk things over with.

  ‘Help me out here. So, are we thinking that Nikki was the instigator of her own demise? Heartbroken at losing Paul, she gives up on life only to find that Christine has ditched him. How must that have made her feel?’

  ‘Angry? Upset?’

  ‘More than that. I think she was devastated. He even continued to hand-deliver his ex-wife a birthday card so, in Nikki’s warped mind, she probably knew he still cared. To then find another man in Christine’s bed …’ She clenched her phone, willing for it to ring. ‘I think she flipped and picked up whatever she could find, in this case Christine’s new diving knife, the intention being to stab them both only to end up with a six-inch blade sticking out of her chest.’ Her attention was back on the Fiat as it pulled up outside a hairdresser on a screech of brakes.

  ‘Thank God for that!’ Owen said, racing past. ‘Carry on, you’re doing great. You’re thinking that Casper Stevens picked up Christine after hearing about the link with Paul de Bertrand?’

  Gaby remembered the tall, suave man that day they’d interviewed him. She’d thought then that he didn’t seem to match his wife. He was more alive somehow, more vibrant. A player. But did he play away? Was that it? She’d raised an eyebrow at the time at the disparity between the way they’d looked. Pulling down the sun visor, she stole a hand to her rich brown hair, with what she liked to term the odd grey highlight. There was nothing wrong with allowing yourself to grow old gracefully, but Casper Stevens was a man fighting the onset of age with his expensive clothes and designer haircut while his wife, although smart, appeared quite happy to let nature take the lead. Gaby remembered thinking at the time that his wife’s hair had been short, almost too short, her mind following a completely different trail. Maybe she wasn’t viewing this from the right direction. Maybe Janice Stevens looked that way because she’d been ill.

  ‘I’m not sure what I think and that’s the problem,’ she finally said, snapping the visor closed and returning to her phone. ‘If he’s our man, he deliberately set out to have an affair with his next-door neighbour. What was it that Mrs Miles said – something about the Prices’ relationship deteriorating around Christmas time?’ She twisted back in her seat. ‘That’s it, Owen. The catalyst. Remember de Bertrand mentioning Janice Stevens’s ill health. With her in hospital, Casper had the ideal opportunity to start knocking off Tracy Price – a woman left emotionally vulnerable by Barry’s infidelities.’ She took out her notebook and, balancing it on her knee, scribbled a brief reminder to follow up on the wife’s illness. ‘I still can’t see where the red hair fits, but he must have been pretty stressed with the news that Tracy was pregnant.’

  ‘Don’t forget about his son, Ronan. Being expelled from a public school like that is no joke.’

  ‘Very true.’ She grabbed his arm, her fingers shaking. ‘Owen, put your foot down, there’s a love. He’s a desperate man and he’s got our Amy.’

  The chemist looked closed but all it took was a sharp knock on the door for Jax to appear and let them in. Gaby studied her surroundings but there was nothing to see apart from the usual shelves laden with toiletries and other sundry items from deodorants to corn plasters. It was the exact same as all the other chemists she’d ever visited except for one unique difference. She had no interest in anything other than the whereabouts of the owner.

  ‘I thought it better to shut up shop, ma’am,’ Jax said, gesturing for her to follow. ‘Malachy is with the shop assistant in the office. We haven’t said anything.’

  ‘You did right.’ She went to move towards the back of the chemist only to halt at the feel of his hand on her arm.

  ‘There’s something else …’

  She stared up at him and, for the first time, noticed his unhealthy pallor.

  ‘What is it?’ She deliberately softened her voice.

  ‘I should have contacted you, but I thought it could wait until the briefing.’ He took a deep swallow, his Adam’s apple working overtime. ‘This morning on my visit to the West Shore, I caught up with Rufus’s mum, a German Shepherd cross – the dog that is, not the o-o-owner,’ he stuttered.

  Gaby screwed a brief expectant smile on her face, all the while willing him to carry on. One of her brothers had suffered from a stutter and she knew more than most that the worst thing possible was to interrupt, biting down on her tongue to prevent her doing just that.

  ‘She’s a nurse in one of the care homes – she’s working nights at present,’ he finally managed, taking deep, heaving breaths to help his speech. ‘When she can’t sleep on her days off, she often takes R-R … her dog for an early morning stroll. Last Saturday she saw a man racing along the path outside Christine’s flat. She’s adamant it was Casper Stevens – he often pops in with medications for the residents on his way home.’

  She gave him a smile when all she felt like doing was grimacing. To have all her fears confirmed in such a way when the safety of one of her officers was on the line, had to be up there with having her wallet stolen. But Jax was a good cop. She knew if he could harness his enthusiasm and eye for detail, he’d make an outstanding one just as she knew that one false word or nasty remark from her would send his stutter into overdrive and his confidence into his boots.

  ‘Good work, Jax. You weren’t to know he’d come onto our radar.’

  She walked behind the counter and into the office, forcing herself to concentrate on the middle-aged platinum-blonde sat in front of the desk, a glass of water on the side. The navy tunic and trousers set off the chic Fifties look as did the tattooed eyebrows and bright red lips. But Gaby wasn’t here to note her attributes. She had better things to do with her time, the sense of urgency making her heart jump in her chest and her eyes smart. She was here with one thought in her mind and one thought only. Amy.

  ‘Hello, my name is Detective Darin,’ she said, flipping her warrant card open and taking a seat. ‘I believe my men have asked you about the whereabouts of Mr Stevens?’

  ‘Well, as I’ve been telling the young man, he’s not answering his phone,’ she said, a look of confusion stamped across her face. ‘He said he had to pick up the boys from school, but he should be home by now.’

  ‘Do you have any idea where else he might have gone?’

  ‘He keeps himself to himself.’

  ‘Thank you. If you can leave your details with DC Williams in case we need to follow up on anything.’ Gaby waited until she’d been escorted out of the shop before turning back to Malachy. ‘So, what have you go
t for us then?’

  ‘Not a huge amount,’ he said, reading from his notebook. ‘Casper Stevens, forty-three. Born in Chester – moved to Llandudno and opened up the chemist about fifteen years ago. They’re still looking into his education but no priors. A couple of parking tickets in his twenties but, apart from that, he’s clean. We’ve had a quick scout around but what you see is pretty much what you get. There’s a flat above but I managed to speak to the elderly woman that lives there. She’s as deaf as a post and didn’t hear or see anything untoward. We also had a look out the back. There’s space for one car and little else. Needless to say, the parking place is empty.’

  ‘Show me.’

  She followed him out the back door, her gaze on the paved drive and the slight trace of scuff marks but nothing that could be tantamount to a clue.

  Back in the office she stared at the rows of black box files and the stream of pharmacy books stretching out across the shelves in an array of colours. The desk was deep mahogany and set out with a military precision that scared the hell out of her. An empty desk was an anathema to someone like her with more work than she knew what to do with.

  ‘Did you manage to find anything out about the wife?’ she said, turning back to Malachy.

  ‘Janice, also forty-three. They met at university. That’s all they’ve come up with so far.’ He snapped his notebook shut and returned it to his back pocket before holding out a Post-it note. ‘I have her number. I was about to give her a ring before you turned up.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She wandered behind the desk and sat in the swivel chair, her mobile pressed to her ear as she quickly arranged to meet Mrs Stevens back at their house. Ending the call, she paused, compelled by some instinct to open the top drawer. Perhaps it was the absence of anything personal in the room. No photos. No trinkets. Nothing to indicate the personality of the man.

  The frame was right on top and, turning it over, she couldn’t fail to notice the glass smashed in a starburst pattern. The photo was of Casper and his family, taken a few years ago by the look of the toddler in his arms. But it wasn’t the kids that drew her interest. It wasn’t the sight of the family that dragged an expletive from her lips. It was the sight of Janice Stevens’s long red hair flowing across her shoulders. She needed no further confirmation about what Paul de Bertrand had told her. Christine, Tracy and now Janice, all with the same distinctive hair colour that set them apart. Gaby hadn’t really been serious in her earlier thoughts of a murderer fixated on red hair. She was deadly serious now.

  Chapter 41

  Gaby

  Thursday 14 May, 4.15 p.m. Llandudno

  The house was just as she remembered, apart from the hall cluttered with school bags. Janice Stevens led them back into the lounge, gesturing with a wave of her hand to the sofa opposite. She was wearing a similar dress to last time, this one plain navy offset by a single row of pearls, her skin free of make-up.

  ‘We’re trying to catch up with your husband. We were given the impression that he’d left early to pick up the kids?’

  ‘As if! It’s only Jacob that needs picking up and I always do that. The elder ones take the bus.’

  ‘So, do you have any idea where he might be?’

  ‘Casper is a law unto himself, Detective.’ she said, her mouth pulled tight.

  Gaby and Owen exchanged looks. ‘I take it that you and your husband er …?’

  ‘The last six months have been a difficult time for the both of us,’ Janice said, lifting her hand to smooth over her pixie cut. ‘I take it the reason you’re here is something to do with Tracy’s death?’

  ‘We’re not at liberty to disclose any details of an ongoing investigation.’

  ‘Of course you’re not!’

  ‘Can you tell us your husband’s whereabouts last Friday from six o’clock onwards?’ Owen asked.

  ‘Last Friday?’ she repeated, shifting in her seat. ‘Frankly, I have no idea. He didn’t come home – I was here with the boys all evening.’

  ‘You don’t need to check your calendar or anything?’

  ‘No, Detective. Friday night is film night in our house. I make a pile of cheesy nachos and popcorn and we all chill in front of whatever Netflix is age appropriate. Last Friday, Casper was a no-show. I don’t know where he was until breakfast. He didn’t even bother with an excuse. Up until that moment I thought we were just going through a rough patch – now I’m not so sure it’s as simple as that. Even our eldest is starting to suspect, as if his life isn’t difficult enough.’

  ‘That would be Ronan?’ Gaby said, wanting the final piece of the puzzle to slot into place.

  ‘That’s right.’ She started fiddling with her wedding band. ‘He’s also going through a rough patch.’

  ‘So I hear,’ Gaby interrupted, watching Janice flick her a look. ‘Being expelled can never be easy.’

  ‘No. I’m not explaining my son to you but there were extenuating circumstances. If there hadn’t been, the police would have been called. The two little shits that had been picking on him from day one got more than they bargained for and my son has certainly learnt a lesson.’

  Gaby widened her eyes at the different take on the story that Paul de Bertrand had told them but she refrained from commenting. ‘So, to get back to your husband’s whereabouts. It’s imperative that we track him down. What about friends? Family?’

  She shook her head. ‘His parents died last year and as for friends, he’s fallen out of the scene in recent months. There’s Jim from the golf club but I can’t really see that he’d know anything.’

  ‘Jim …?’ Owen said, twisting his pen through his fingers.

  ‘Mackay. He owns the Diamond Emporium along Mostyn Street.’

  Gaby flicked back through her notebook at a loss as to what to ask next, her throat tightening at the thought. She was desperate to find her friend but, apart from the scuff marks outside the back of the shop, there were no leads. She’d thought the wife would be the best bet but obviously not if the cul de sac conversation was anything to go by. There had to be somewhere he could go. Or at least someone that had seen him with Amy, if indeed he’d taken her. It was all supposition at this stage with no clues to go on. Her mind slid back to the ANPR search they were running on his Saab, but so far there’d been no sightings. She opened her mouth to speak only to close it again at the sight of the door being pushed open and a teenager bursting into the room.

  ‘Mum, what’s this Jacob’s saying about the police looking for Dad?’

  Gaby studied the tall scruffy youth with interest, drawn to his skinny frame and sunken cheeks. She’d taken Janice’s comment about extenuating circumstances with a pinch of salt. Now she believed everything his mother had said. Here was a young man fighting demons no kid his age should have to face.

  ‘Ronan, you shouldn’t be here …’

  ‘But Dad …?’

  ‘Ronan, if I may call you that?’ Gaby said, her voice soft, her smile kind. ‘I’m Detective Darin and this is Detective Bates. We do need to speak to your dad but it’s not something that you need to worry about, unless you have any ideas as to where he is?’

  ‘None at all. I haven’t seen him since this morning when he dropped his car off at the garage.’

  ‘Oh, that’s right.’ Janice jerked forward, her face colouring. ‘I’d forgotten. The Saab needed a service.’

  ‘So, your husband didn’t have a car,’ Gaby said, almost to herself, her thoughts confused. How the hell could he be in the frame for abduction without transport?

  ‘No, he did,’ Ronan piped up. ‘He took mine. I’m still learning to drive so it’s only a clapped-out Fiesta with over 100,000 miles on the clock but it’s a good runner.’

  Chapter 42

  Amy

  Thursday 14 May, 8 a.m. Rhos-on-Sea

  Walking up to the shop, Amy had been pleased to see a light going on, the thump inside her skull a souvenir of the champagne she’d consumed the night before. She was far too old and wise not to know wh
at she’d been doing but that second bottle had seemed like a good idea at the time.

  She rattled the door handle, not surprised that it was still locked and, taking a step back, glanced at her watch. She had ten minutes to wait. It would mean cutting it fine if she was to reach work on time, but they wouldn’t get any sense out of her unless she could sort out the hangover bashing her skull from all sides.

  The sound of a key turning in the lock had her stepping forward, a weak smile on her lips at the kindness of the tall, handsome man pulling the door open and gesturing for her to follow.

  ‘Oh God, you’re a life saver. Thank you so much,’ she gushed. ‘A box of paracetamol please.’

  ‘You look like you need it,’ he said, walking behind the counter and, picking up a blue and white box, placed it on the top. ‘That’ll be ninety-six pence.’

  ‘Cheap at double the price.’ She fumbled in her pocket for her wallet before plucking out a pound coin, not caring for once if her warrant card was seen or not.

  ‘You’re a copper?’

  ‘Detective,’ she said, noting his look of interest before tearing into the box and pressing out a couple of tablets. ‘But I won’t be doing much detecting if I can’t shift this headache.’

  ‘‘Well in that case the least I can do is offer you a glass of water. Otherwise you might arrest me,’ he added, a grin on his face. ‘Why don’t you have a seat – I’ll be back in a moment.’

  Amy could hardly breathe let alone speak. She also couldn’t move and as for seeing …

  She remembered back to the lectures she’d had on crisis management but all the training in the world couldn’t prepare her for the reality of being trussed up like a chicken and dumped in the boot of some smelly car, the bitter taste of whatever drug he’d given her a lasting memory of what a mug she’d been. Of all the gullible fools. It had been drummed into her during her training, and on each subsequent annual update, never to enter an area alone unless there was back-up. Okay, so popping into the local chemist wasn’t exactly a risk but hadn’t she gone out of her way to choose Stevens’ because she’d known he’d lived next to Tracy Price? That would teach her for being nosy. She struggled to keep the tears back because, if history was to repeat itself, she wouldn’t be around to benefit from the lesson. She had no idea what he had planned or even if he’d just left her to die. She had no idea how long she’d been here but long enough for the pressure building up in her bladder to reach catastrophic proportions. She’d finally done the one thing she’d never imagined, the sticky stench of urine pooling between her legs a sharp reminder of her vulnerability.