by D. E. White
“What do you mean?” I genuinely had no idea what he was talking about.
“The letter, Mickey, I saw the fucking letter!”
“I honestly don’t know what you mean!”
“Farley College, the gymnastics scholarship? Elite training scheme? You thinking you can just piss off and live in Yorkshire . . . Ring any bells?”
“I haven’t got it yet, and even if I do get offered a place, I haven’t decided whether to go or not.”
He could tell I was lying, and his face contorted with rage. “You little bitch. All these years I’ve supported you, hell, I made you what you are today. You’d never be so focused, so good if I hadn’t trained you. It was all me! Not Mum and Dad with their precious little gymnast, giving you all of the chances I never had.”
I saw it then, as I’d never done before, had missed in my terror, in my childish blindness. My own brother was broken. His version of our childhood, so different from my own memories. Did Mum and Dad see it too? Was this the real reason for the secrecy about the training scholarships? All that stuff about not hurting Jamie’s feelings . . . Were they just trying to get me away safely?
Jamie has no feelings, no real ones anyway. He has rage, and impulses, I suppose, and he enjoys fear, but those are just useless emotions. He has no love, no compassion, no loyalty and tenderness, none of the things that make us truly human.
He started to hit me then, methodically beating every part of my body, pinning me down so I couldn’t escape. I tried to scream, but he shoved a balled-up football sock in my mouth. It made me gag, even as I tried to fight him off. My body felt like it was on fire. The reason for the gloves became clear. He had come prepared.
I could feel blood on my face, the fiery bursts of pain as he hit me again and again. I rolled away, trying to protect myself, pushing his hands away, but each blow was measured and controlled, and each blow broke me a little more.
As one hand moved for my throat, I felt the ground beneath my desperately scrabbling hands. Our fight had brought us close to the edge of the quarry. The long drop to rocks and water was so very near. My eyes were so swollen, I could hardly see, but flashes of light showed me the sun was nearly gone, the shadows were calling, feeling the rush of air, the freedom. My fingers scrabbled harder, nails tearing, pulling at the earth, trying to jackknife my body — and then I started to fall.
I think he would have killed me slowly, but this way I was finally free of him, and at the very last moment I was in control.
It seemed a long time before I hit the ground, the rocks sharp and vicious, surrounding the oily water like sharks’ teeth, sinking into my body. He made no sound as I fell. No yells of horror, no screams for help floated down after me. I cried out just once, my voice echoing around the quarry.
For me, it was as though I was truly flying, leaving everything behind. The pain, the fear, the humiliation — I left it all in the quiet woods.
It was him all the time. Did he want me to die or had he planned to keep torturing me? Perhaps he would go home and pretend it never happened, that he never had a sister at all.
I wonder what he will be doing in five, twenty, or thirty years’ time? Perhaps he too will be dead. Or maybe he will be living his life, daring to pretend I never existed.
It seemed a long time before anyone came to help me, as I lay broken and bleeding in the quarry, and in my head I started to count — 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 . . . I knew if I made it to 6 I would live.
But everything was too bright, too jumbled, and the voices, when they came, were too loud. I retreated into another place, a more comfortable version of my world.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
“Mickey Delaney passed away earlier this evening.” DCI Franklin started the meeting with this sombre announcement, genuine sorrow in his voice.
There was a murmur of shock and speculation from the team, as they waited for him to continue. Most of them had been looking forward to going home early for once, Dove thought, watching their faces. There would be weeks spent building on the evidence they had already accumulated, preparing for the court cases, but the initial pressure was off. They had a result.
“According to the hospital, Mickey passed away peacefully, and her family have been informed.” He sighed. “Given the nature of our current investigation, and the interest from the press, we will proceed with caution. However, certain new evidence has come to light regarding Mickey’s initial attack, which means we have been given the green light to re-examine the case.” He smiled grimly. “You will see from the email I sent that Jenna Essex came forward with information after Mickey died.” He clicked the mouse on the desk.
Dove bit her lip as images of Mickey’s diary, that sad, battered pink notebook, followed by Jenna’s photographs, appeared on screen. Why hadn’t she ever told anyone what was going on?
“As far as I can see we still have the same problem as we had with the Beach Escape Room murders. Granted, the new evidence shows Jamie Delaney in a whole different light, and if he was abusing his sister he must be a prime suspect, but Caz is up there too. And we know she is also capable of murder,” Josh said. “What about the murder in the Philippines? Did Interpol get back?”
DCI Franklin nodded. “It’s going to take a while, but early signs are good. A local barman was arrested but later released without charge, and there are a couple of witness statements stating they saw a man with blood-stained clothing running from the beach on a track down to the road. The physical description does match Jamie’s. Just to note, we have evidence Caz was definitely not present during that incident.”
“And don’t forget Caz was at the football match during the time frame we have for Mickey’s attack,” Steve added, “So she is only in the frame for the escape-room murders.”
Dove was staring at the timestamp on the photographs. “Mickey and Jenna arrived on the waste ground at eight. According to her original statement she said Mickey wanted to be on her own and walked away into the woods, using their usual path.” She pointed at the second photograph. “Any of the kids near the hedge line, which is exactly where Jamie was standing, could have looked over and seen her heading for the trees. Jenna said they all frequently used that path to get to the quarry, but only she and Mickey knew about the old bunker, where the diary was later hidden.”
“But why was he mad at her this particular evening?” DI Blackman asked thoughtfully. “If he’d been abusing her for years, what suddenly triggered the urge to kill her?” He looked down at his notes. “According to the doctors’ reports, the beating she sustained was extensive, and the fall into the quarry should have killed her outright.”
Mickey’s smiling face appeared back on the screen, flanked by Jenna and Caz, and again Dove felt a little catch in her heart. “Jenna mentioned in her interview Mickey had gone for a scholarship at a boarding school. She seemed to think Jamie was kept in the dark about it, and Mickey was waiting for a letter that she hoped would offer her a place. Perhaps their parents decided to tell him after all, or he found out?”
“The forestry workers heard a scream at 8.30 p.m., and when they arrived at the scene there was no sign of anyone else,” Lindsey said. She looked up from her iPad. “Are we going to interview Jamie about this new development tonight?”
“No, tomorrow morning,” DCI Franklin said. “The Chief Super was very clear that with the extra budget we follow exactly where the new evidence is pointing, so evidence from the scene will be retested, but at this stage we will not be re-interviewing unless we find any anomalies in the witness statements. I’m confident we can lay this to rest within the week, but we need more to be confident the case is watertight.”
Dove could tell by her colleagues’ faces they too thought this was a little optimistic.
“We aren’t a cold-case unit, though, so shouldn’t they be dealing with this?” DS Pete Wyndham was clearly not impressed with the added workload. “I just mean they are better equipped than us for this kind of reinvestigation,” he added hastily,
as DCI Franklin turned a frosty gaze on him.
“Because we have already charged Jamie and Caz, we are involved, and this case, I shouldn’t really have to point out, will also be relevant to the Beach Escape Rooms murders when our perpetrators come to stand trial,” the DCI said icily, his cool blue gaze sweeping the room. “I understand you are all exhausted, and appreciate your efforts, but we are a team. I want us to pull together until we are finished. Any questions?”
There were mutterings of “No, sir,” and the team moved back out into the main office area.
Dove lingered for a moment, still focused on the photographs. “Boss, I was just thinking . . . What if Ellis Bravery was watching the kids when Jamie snuck out into the woods? Perhaps he saw him head after Mickey.”
DI Blackman nodded. “Go on.”
“So if Jamie has convinced himself and everyone else that Ellis was responsible for Mickey’s attack, basically rewriting history, as he has possibly also done with the murder in the Philippines, maybe he was worried by Ellis. Could Ellis have threatened him? Or maybe not even that, it could just have been a comment Jamie took as a threat.”
Steve, halfway to the door, had heard her suggestion. “But if he saw Jamie the night Mickey was attacked, why did he never speak out at the time?”
DCI Franklin was frowning. “Maybe he didn’t see anything at all, but when Jamie confronted him that night at the escape rooms, Ellis said enough to rile him and make him think that after all this time, Ellis might be going to reveal who was actually responsible. It would ruin Jamie’s whole life.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
Two days later, the DCI was waiting impatiently as they filed into the briefing room. “Firstly, thank you for your time on this one. We are not a cold-case team, but obviously our investigations have led us to this stage, and we were lucky to receive the funding to reopen Mickey Delaney’s case. It was not easy, but as you know, with a key witness and further evidence presenting itself, I took a chance. A big chance. You have all pulled it out of the bag to get to this very satisfactory result.”
Dove waited, almost holding her breath. The final piece of Mickey’s puzzle, and justice for the girl that had been so long coming.
“If you would like to look at the screen, you can see we had the evidence from the original scene retested. It was a huge site, stretching from the quarry to the path through the woods, and the site was challenging regarding access and egress.” He paused to take a mouthful of coffee as he clicked the mouse, bringing up a timeline they were all now extremely familiar with.
“This close-up is Jamie Delaney leaving the match through the gap in the hedge. As you can see, although it isn’t great quality, he is wearing two gold earrings in his left ear. DI Lincoln?”
George pulled several plastic bags from the box on the table next to him. “The earring in this bag, recovered from the quarry floor, next to Mickey’s body, was assumed to be hers. She was missing an earring, and this gold stud is similar enough for the assumption to have been made. This is not an excuse, but I can see how it happened. We are all human,” he added sternly. “Retesting, and lab analysis of the photograph, has shown us firstly the earring Mickey had in her right ear was a gold flower. Jenna has told us the girls often wore just the one earring at that time.” He looked baffled at this but continued with grim pleasure. “Secondly, the DNA match for a second earring recovered at the top of the quarry, at the scene of the attack, and buried in crushed grass and weeds, is Jamie Delaney’s.”
The DCI took over again. “There is a ninety-eight per cent probability the piece of jewellery doesn’t belong to Mickey, but to her brother. Coupled with our witness, the diary and the photographs showing Jamie at the match wearing an earring, and then leaving through the gap in the hedge, lead us to the conclusion he was responsible for the attempted murder of his sister. Clearly it will be up to the CPS, but now that she has died, he will likely be charged with murder. Following an exchange of information with our colleagues in the Philippines, it also looks like Jamie will be charged with the murder of Elsa Murphy, a nineteen-year-old backpacker from Wales.”
Up on the screen, photos of Mickey and Elsa smiled down at the assembled team. The girls were similar in looks, with both having striking red hair.
* * *
“You have no reason to question me again! Haven’t you already wrecked our family?” Jamie said angrily.
“We will be making a formal complaint regarding this harassment,” his solicitor added. “My client is suffering considerable emotional stress, and is also grieving for his sister.”
DCI Franklin laid all the evidence out methodically and succinctly. After a few furious protests, Jamie grew cold and silent, hands clasped neatly in front of him, pale bony face composed and cruel.
In answer to all the questions, he merely stated, “No comment.”
Once DCI Franklin had finished, he looked long and hard at the young man. “You will be formally charged with the attempted murder of Mickey Delaney. And as I mentioned, our colleagues will want to interview you regarding the murder of Elsa Murphy.”
Jamie looked coolly round the room and smiled so thinly it barely touched his lips. His hazel eyes were icy. “It wasn’t me, you know. It was someone else who hurt Mickey and Elsa. It wasn’t me.”
“Do you want to explain?”
“No, but it was a different person, not me at all. I always get the blame, and it wasn’t my fault.” He sighed. “You don’t understand.”
“You could try to explain?” the DCI suggested.
“No point,” Jamie shrugged. “Police are all bastards. You managed to clear up a few cases by pinning the blame on me. Congratulations.”
After the interview, Dove followed the DCI upstairs to his office. He sat down behind his desk and indicated the seat opposite. She felt completely drained, exhaustion coming in waves, but she forced herself to sit upright in her chair, shoulders back, feet together.
Dove waited, unsure what he was going to say, feeling a bit like a kid in detention at school, despite the good result.
But he finally smiled, relief in his pale blue eyes. “You got lucky with Jenna Essex.”
Dove nodded. “I’m glad Jenna found the courage to finally come forward. I’m just sad Mickey died. I was kind of hoping for a miracle.”
“I think we all were, but fairy-tale endings rarely happen. Mickey’s case was one that stuck with me, you know — you always get ones you can’t solve, and you feel maybe you failed in some way. So this result is extremely satisfying.” He watched her. “Just remember we won’t be able to solve everything, and injustices will still occur sometimes. Even though we might have all our evidence, sometimes it just doesn’t pan out.”
“Understood, sir.”
He frowned at her. “I spoke to Chris earlier today.”
Dove blinked at him, shocked. Her old boss. “You did?”
“He was saying how much he wanted you back now Rose has left.”
“Rose has left? She never told me,” Dove said. She and her ex-colleague didn’t have the easiest of relationships, but she was surprised and a little hurt Rose hadn’t shared the news. “I thought she was in it for the long haul.”
“Would you ever go back to source handling?” he countered.
Dove shook her head. “No. It was an experience, but I’m happy with the MCT. I feel like I’ve learned a lot and put down some roots now.”
“I’m glad to hear that Chris won’t be able to lure you away, because I feel you are correct. You do fit right in here.” He smiled at her. “Now go home and get some rest, or go surfing or whatever you do to relax.”
“Yes, sir.” Dove walked back through the office smiling to herself. He was right. She couldn’t solve every injustice, but — her smile deepened — she could have a damn good go at trying.
Steve was waiting at the door, coffee in each hand. “Ready to go, partner?”
“I’m ready.” Dove led the way down the corridor.
CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
Dove sat cross-legged on the edge of the quarry, the rough stones hot from the midday sun under her hands. Far below, a number of sharp rocks had been left exposed by the summer drought. The same ones Mickey had seen as she fell that sweaty summer’s evening five years ago.
The emerald-green water, with its slick of oily dust, gleamed as the sunlight dazzled through the trees, and paused to dance on pointed toes — the star of the show, the prima donna — right in the centre of the quarry.
“Dove? You know, when you said a little car ride, I didn’t realise you were coming out here.” Delta scrambled down next to her, long bare legs in cut-off denim shorts, red-spotted top tied at her midriff, her short brown hair framing her serious expression.
“Neither did I!” Gaia sat down carefully on Dove’s other side, wincing slightly. She wore her usual black trousers and black silk top. Her make-up was perfect, and her hair was cropped and smooth.
“I just thought it was kind of fitting. You know, closure maybe,” Dove said. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Gaia.”
“So you thought you’d treat me to a ride to an old quarry,” Gaia sighed, “Gotcha. Most people send flowers. Uri gave a voucher for a spa day . . .”
“That’s a bit cheapskate for Uri,” Delta said slyly, and giggled as her aunt reached out to slap her arm.
“It’s a spa in Monte Carlo, and he’s flying me there in his helicopter. We’re staying for the weekend,” Gaia continued.
“Better,” Delta grinned. She wriggled round until she was comfortable, one leg up, chin on her knee, fingers linked. Her expression changed as she looked down into the quarry again. “Jamie nearly got away with it, didn’t he?”
“He won’t now. The evidence will convict him, I’m sure of it,” Dove said. “I just wish she had survived — been, I don’t know, a medical miracle. It’s sad it was only after her death Jenna felt able to come forward. She said she had a bargain with fate, that she wouldn’t tell on Jamie and Mickey would be okay.”