Penn watched as her eyes reddened around unshed tears. She deserved the whole truth.
‘I understand,’ she said, thickly. ‘She’s alive but she still doesn’t want to see me.’
That wasn’t a fact he could argue with.
‘Josie, if it helps, the more we learn about this place the more we understand how persuasive they are. They don’t use threats or violence. They use seduction and promises. They prey on people’s weaknesses, their vulnerabilities. They find a small chink and then massage it until it is much more. They preyed on your mum’s grief after your father died. They found some vulnerability in her and exploited—’
‘She had no one to take care of,’ Josie said, suddenly. ‘You know I brushed it aside at the time, but every day after Dad died she’d mention that she was lost without him to take care of. She kept offering to come round here to clean and cook and…’
‘Cook?’ he asked.
Josie nodded. ‘My dad never had a takeaway in his life. Mum wouldn’t hear of it. She loved cooking from scratch. She was… is a brilliant cook. Her food…’
‘It’s what she does at the Farm, Josie.’
She smiled sadly. ‘I’m not surprised. Mum would always do anything to help other people. She has a very big heart.’
‘All is not lost, Josie. Maybe one day…’
‘I can’t think about that. If I do, I’ll start to hope and then it’ll just be disappointment all over again. A part of me has to stay angry with her. It’s self-preservation.’
He understood. ‘I just want you to know that she didn’t just up and leave you. She would have been courted, flattered, complimented and manipulated.’
Right then Josie did shed a tear. ‘Okay, I’ll try and forgive her and then maybe I can forgive myself.’
‘For what?’ Penn asked.
‘I’m afraid I wasn’t totally honest with you,’ she said, lowering her head. ‘It’s all my fault, you see. I told you about the last time we spoke, but what I didn’t tell you was that we had a huge argument. I was being selfish and was wrapped up in my own grief. I wanted my mum to be as she’d always been – there for me – but my father’s death hit her so hard she couldn’t offer comfort to me or anyone else. Our grief didn’t bring us closer together. I allowed it to tear us apart.’
Penn could hear the shame in her voice. ‘That doesn’t make you responsible.’
She looked up as tears rolled over her cheeks. ‘I told her I never wanted to see her again. I’d just found out I was pregnant and my marriage was in trouble. I wasn’t coping and I took it out on her. She tried to ring me the following day and I ignored her calls. I’m still not sure what I was punishing her for; I only know that it was the most painful time in both our lives.’
Penn felt for the torment this woman had put herself through. She wasn’t the cause of her mother joining a manipulative cult, but their estrangement had certainly made Unity Farm’s job easier. Sheila had been grieving for the love of her life and her only child wanted nothing to do with her.
‘By the time the neighbour told me about the man she saw hanging around, my emotions were all over the…’
‘Who?’ Penn asked, confused. For some reason he’d assumed she’d been recruited by a woman.
‘The big man. The man in black. The one with the massive Range Rover.’
Ninety-Three
Stacey was dividing her time between trying to find out more about Kane Drummond, Jake Black and identifying their third victim.
So far, she’d managed to find out that Kane was a director in three separate companies. All of their details had been sent to the printer while she waded through the next batch of missing persons’ reports.
The parameters were the most general she’d ever worked with. Male, five foot four, aged twenty-five to fifty-five, and in the water for between three months and three years. Any physical description further would have been a guess on his part, Keats had said, and so was not prepared to speculate.
A little speculation could be a good thing, Stacey thought, especially if it narrowed down the reports that fit within her criteria.
She sure wished Penn was here, she thought, as the next available record was for a man named Derek Noble, aged thirty-eight when he went missing eleven months ago.
Stacey began to read the detail of his case when her phone rang.
‘Hey, you psychic or something?’ she asked her colleague.
‘I bet I can predict that you’ll be having another cookie sometime soon.’
Damn him. She had been thinking about it.
‘You on your way back. Please say yes,’ she pleaded.
‘Will be in a minute. I’m just outside the office of the estate agent who sold Sheila Thorpe’s house. Spoke to a lady who wouldn’t give me any specifics, but seemed to remember mention of the money being transferred to a company that sounded like something to do with lager. You come across anything even remotely like Stella, Budweiser, Carlsberg or?…’
‘Charlsberg,’ Stacey said, suddenly, reaching around to the printer behind.
‘Stands a good chance, why?’ Penn asked, with dread in his voice.
‘It’s one of Kane Drummond’s companies.’
‘Damn it,’ Penn said. ‘That’s what I thought you were going to say.’
Ninety-Four
‘So, what did he say?’ Kim asked, as they drove towards the café and their third meeting with Kane. Bryant had called Travis as soon as they’d found Richard’s body. A team had arrived within ten minutes, and Bryant would need to go into Worcester later to provide a full statement.
‘I explained I’d been going there to get him to confess to the murder of Alice Lennox. He didn’t sound particularly pleased. I begged him to go over Drake’s confession and see for himself that the detail he offered was all in the press reports and that he’d offered nothing that only the murderer would know. I even mentioned the cigarette.’
Bryant had explained the significance of that to her earlier. Nowhere in his account of murdering Alice Lennox had Drake mentioned pausing to smoke a cigarette. He’d detailed everything else but not the one thing that had been withheld from the reports.
‘And that’s how I know Richard planned it,’ Bryant said. ‘We both stood and watched him smoke that cigarette outside the prison. I left before Richard so he must have gone and picked it up knowing exactly what he was going to do with it. But there were other things that didn’t feel right. Drake never used an object to sexually assault his victims, despite what he said about Alice being a prostitute, and he never admitted so readily to committing the crimes. When questioned about the murder of Wendy and the attempted murder of Tina Crossley he instructed a solicitor and never spoke a word. The only thing that matched were the injuries sustained to Alice, which were identical to Wendy’s wounds and which were completely familiar to Richard.’
‘But why didn’t he just kill Drake?’ Kim asked. That was the man he hated.
‘He couldn’t. He told me outside the prison that he was terrified that Drake would find Wendy in the afterlife and that he wouldn’t be there to protect her. Drake couldn’t die before he did. He couldn’t let her down again.’
Bryant glanced her way as though he expected her to argue or minimise the theory, but she couldn’t because she’d had similar thoughts about her mother.
Personally she didn’t believe in the afterlife but she lived with the fear that if she was wrong her mother would get the opportunity to torture her brother all over again, that he would be alone and powerless to protect himself.
She shook the thoughts away.
‘So, what did Travis say when you told him all this?’
‘He thanked me for my theory and said he’d give it some thought.’
‘Ooh, brush off,’ Kim noted.
‘He can’t ignore evidence.’
Kim wasn’t sure evidence was what Travis had been presented with. She got the feeling it wasn’t over for Bryant quite yet.
‘He
’s already there,’ Kim said, as Bryant parked in front of the café. Kane had secured a seat by the window. Despite this he sat with his back to the outside view.
Kim couldn’t help the half-smile as she noted three cups on the table before him.
‘Mr Drummond,’ she said, sitting.
‘Let’s not show off, Inspector. We’ve already established that you know my real name and I think Kane will do fine.’
‘Anything else you’d like to reveal about yourself?’
‘No.’
She shrugged. ‘It’s okay. My DC is very talented. She’ll have everything including your shoe size and favourite colour by the end of the day.’
‘Eleven and black,’ he said, without humour.
‘Fabulous. That should save her some time.’
Kim wondered how it was possible that even now, on their third meeting, that she detected neither positive nor negative vibes from this man. He was direct, curt and obnoxious but those qualities alone did not make him a murderer. Thankfully for her. But she picked up no empathy either. Everything he said was factual, like a bullet-point list, with no emotion behind it.
‘I have a question for you, Kane. Just the one this time.’
‘Go ahead,’ he said, glancing to his left. Two middle-aged women shared a pot of tea.
‘Where is Sophie Brown?’
No reaction. He shrugged. ‘Unity Farm, I should think.’
‘Apparently not.’
‘How would you know? There are over a hundred people in there.’
‘And one of them is ours,’ Kim said, taking a sip of her drink.
Surprise turned to shock to disbelief to horror, and finally to anger. At last there was proof of emotion.
‘You’re kidding? Please tell me you’re joking,’ he said, leaning forward. His gaze was intense as he waited for her answer.
Kim shook her head. ‘It was the only way to—’
‘Fuck’s sake,’ he spat. ‘At least tell me this person has some experience of cults and their practices; at the very least that they were briefed fully about the dangers of…’
‘She’s a police officer, of course we briefed her,’ Kim snapped, defensively. No emotion for days and then everything at once at the mention of an undercover officer. What was that about? she wondered.
‘Except you didn’t even know yourself. You didn’t even believe it was a cult.’
‘We’ve been in touch. She’s fine.’
Kane shook his head. ‘Do you have any idea of the level of danger you’ve put…’
‘You wouldn’t happen to be trying to deflect attention from the question you were asked here to answer, would you?’ she asked, bristling at his tone. ‘So, I’ll ask it again in case you’ve forgotten. What have you done with Sophie Brown?’
The shutter had closed once more on his emotions.
‘What makes you think I’ve done anything with her?’
‘You said so yourself the other day. Your last words to me hinted that you already had her.’
‘And if I recall I also explained that if I did have her, the people paying me would be the first to know.’
‘And just how much are they paying you, Kane? Is this one a reduced rate given the fuck-up with—’
‘The mistake wasn’t mine, Inspector,’ he said, as a muscle along his cheekbone did a jig. The man didn’t like to be accused of making mistakes.
She was about to goad him further when her phone rang. It was Penn, who knew full well where she was and what she was doing right now.
‘Stone,’ she answered, knowing he would only disturb her for something she needed to know.
She allowed him to speak without interruption, ensuring no emotion registered on her face.
She thanked him, ended the call and turned to Kane Drummond.
‘Well, it appears I do have another question, after all.’ She paused and glanced at her colleague before fixing her gaze on Kane.
‘Why did Sheila Thorpe give all her money to you?’
Ninety-Five
Once they’d finished breakfast, Britney had taken her on a tour of the outside space and explained where the pool and livestock were going. Every few minutes Tiff had opened her mouth to say that she was going to leave and each time she saw the raw excitement and animation on her friend’s face and the words just wouldn’t come.
She cursed herself for her own weakness as Britney guided her into the meditation room in barn 3.
‘Ever tried it?’
Tiff shook her head.
‘It’s beginners’ class today. Perfect for you, but I’ll do it anyway. I don’t need to listen any more and can go quite deep now,’ she said, proudly.
After this class she would tell her, Tiff promised herself.
She took a seat on the floor and decided to use the time to get her thoughts straight, make a new plan, an exit strategy that wouldn’t hurt her friend’s feelings. All she had to do was close her eyes like the others and focus on her own thoughts instead of what was being said.
A woman named Mindy clothed in a maxidress and with a neck full of coloured beads explained they were doing a beginner’s class and no one should worry if they didn’t go deep first time.
‘You learn to meditate by meditating,’ she explained. ‘You will go deeper over time and the results are better than sex, drugs or even Sheila’s rice pudding.’
The seven other women in the room chuckled.
‘Choose a mantra,’ Mindy said to them all. ‘It can be anything you want, a single word, a phrase but something that brings a positive feeling to your consciousness. Got one?’
Tiffany decided on the word ‘Evita’. It was her favourite stage show. She’d seen it nine times, and the story of Eva Peron never failed to move her.
‘Now, sit comfortably and quietly with your eyes closed. Relax the muscles in your body. Start with your feet, calves and then thighs. Shrug your shoulders and roll your head and neck around. Listen to your own breathing, focus on the breath in and out. Don’t try to change it or slow it down, just focus on it. Listen to it. Enjoy the process of the breath entering and leaving your body. Notice that your thoughts will come and go without any effort. Allow them to flow in and out. We’ll do that silently for a minute or two.’
Tiffany returned to her own thoughts and wondered what time of day was best to explain to Britney she was leaving. If she was honest the thought had occurred to her to try and persuade Britney to leave with her, but she didn’t feel she had enough time to make her understand why. Perhaps in a few days she could meet Britney at the college and try to talk her into…
‘Okay, now silently repeat your mantra in the same, simple, effortless way. As you repeat your mantra thoughts will come and that’s okay. Gently return to your mantra and be careful not to try to meditate. Don’t force anything. Now let’s try that for a few minutes.’
Tiffany allowed the thoughts to come and go. Maybe this was something she could use in her real life to escape the stress of her job and home life.
Evita.
She didn’t want Brit to feel as though she was being deserted.
Evita.
But she knew she had to leave this place for her own peace of mind.
Evita.
Maybe Brit would be open to the…
Evita.
If she broached it…
Evita.
Evita.
Evita.
Ninety-Six
Kane insisted on getting another drink before he’d answer the question.
Both her and Bryant had refused top ups.
‘Okay,’ he said, sitting down. ‘Sheila Thorpe works for me.’
‘What?’ Kim and Bryant said together.
‘We know how Unity Farm recruits its members, especially the older ones. They read the local obituaries and go for the ones with least relatives, especially women.’
‘Explain,’ Kim demanded.
‘You’ve seen them yourself. Arthur Evans will be missed by his daughter
s, sons, wife, brother, father et cetera. Most relatives are listed. The longer the list, the harder the target because they have more family watching over them. The fewer relatives listed the easier to get to the money. Sheila’s husband’s obituary mentioned only a daughter and wife. Perfect. Sheila was easy pickings, as she had little family surrounding her.’
‘And I suppose her estrangement from her daughter wouldn’t have helped?’ Kim asked.
‘The less people to keep a person connected to their normal life the better,’ he answered.
‘So, how does it work?’ Bryant asked. ‘What are the actual mechanics of the manipulation?’
‘One of the members will knock the door, offer to do jobs, get their feet inside the door and assess the first weakness to manipulate.’
‘So, you got to Sheila first?’ Kim asked.
He shook his head. ‘Not before she’d already handed over most of her savings. We caught her before she sold the house and contents.’
‘So, she sold them and gave the money to you instead?’
He shook his head. ‘We have it all, safe and ready for when she leaves. It’s all been signed over to her daughter if anything happens to her.’
‘I don’t get it. How did you turn her away from the cult?’
‘Same way we do everyone else. Sheila was still living in her house. She hadn’t moved into Unity Farm but was visiting almost daily. We showed her proof of how they work, read her articles about recruitment practices. She felt stupid and guilty and she wanted to help.’
‘Did you know she’d had an argument with her daughter?’ Kim asked, distaste at his tactics resting on her tongue.
‘Yes.’
‘Which is what you played on? Her good nature, eagerness to help other people and the fact she felt like she had no one left?’
He nodded without emotion. ‘She agreed to carry on with the cult so we’d have someone on the inside. Our organisation is not traceable. We’re not listed under Google so parents can’t come to us direct, so we armed her, told her everything they’d do to win her over. She was prepared and fully briefed.’
Killing Mind: An addictive and nail-biting crime thriller (Detective Kim Stone Crime Thriller Book 12) Page 24