by Helen Cox
‘So . . . you forgive us?’
‘Let’s say, I think the good deed cancels out the bad.’
Grace nodded. She couldn’t expect full forgiveness from Selina, she knew that. The poor woman not only had to hide who she truly was but had been abused by a family member because of it. Her trust was understandably hard to win and although she and Kitt had had the best of intentions, sometimes you don’t get to the truth without some fallout.
‘If there’s ever anything I can do to help you win that financial independence you were talking about,’ said Grace, ‘please let me know. I don’t want to think of you stuck in this situation for ever.’
‘I will,’ she said. ‘How’s Patrick?’
Grace glanced back to the hotel room to check he couldn’t hear the conversation but he was still buried beneath a thick duvet.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It’s a lot. Things have come out about his mother, and the man she was working with – Quentin.’
‘I did read something online, about them working together at her company years ago and being responsible for an employee’s death?’
Grace took a deep breath, suddenly feeling quite sick. Though that letter from Jodie had been a forgery by Cynthia, there was one ring of truth to it. The worst thing about this whole mess, aside from the bitter truth that Jodie was truly gone, was the impact it had had, and would continue to have, on the people Jodie loved. Halloran had gone with DI Thompson to break the news to Jodie’s parents. They were understandably devastated to at last receive final confirmation that their daughter would never be coming home. Grace could only hope that by uncovering the truth they had granted them some closure on the matter. They would be able to conduct a funeral and though they would never move on from a loss like that, they could give Jodie a proper farewell.
As for Patrick, it had been bad enough for him that his mother and Quentin’s misdeeds went back years, but for it all to be made public so that the world could judge them – and him – was even worse.
‘Yes, there was some accident around the sawmill in Cynthia’s furniture factory that should never happened. It was negligence on both Quentin and Cynthia’s part but they covered it up and said all the safety measures had been in place but the employee hadn’t taken the proper precautions. They parted ways professionally soon after but have of course been at each other’s mercy ever since. Cynthia told Quentin if he didn’t help her with the situation she was facing with Jodie then she would turn them in to the police over the accident that happened years ago.’
Selina shook her head. ‘Poor Patrick, to find all of this out about your mum must be . . . unbearable.’
‘I’ve largely kept him off the internet, to be honest. I’m feeding him information in small nuggets so he has some hope of . . . metabolizing them. But it’s a disturbingly tangled web. We could barely make out which way was up when we were trying to untangle it, to be honest. Which is part of why we went to the lengths we did with our undercover work.’
‘Well, I handed the CCTV footage over to the police that shows Quentin on the premises on the night of the party, so they’ve got evidence that he had opportunity to plant Jodie’s things in my house . . . though I try not to think about that too much. The idea of that cardigan, covered in blood, just hanging there in my wardrobe . . . I watched them carry out the search. It was right at the back. I never would have found it on my own. It must have been hanging there since the party. And I had no idea . . .’
Grace’s eyes filled with tears. She could barely bring herself to think about it either. When all this began she had some naive hope that there was a chance they would find Jodie alive. More than anything, she’d wanted to be able to bring a lost daughter back home. And now, even though they had caught the killers, there was no hope of that. It was a bitter pill to swallow and a fact that would prey on Grace’s mind for some time.
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Selina, wiping a tear away. ‘I’ve set myself off. It’s just not fair, you know. She had her whole life ahead of her and it happens to so many young women.’
‘I know,’ Grace said with a sniff, while wondering if there was something she could do about the injustice. Though she hadn’t told Kitt yet, she’d already made the decision that she wasn’t going to continue on the library studies course at Venerable Bede’s. After all that had happened, she just . . . couldn’t. And she hadn’t been able to save Jodie, but maybe if she chose some other walk of life there were other people she could help.
‘I suppose it’s just a reminder to live life to the full while we can,’ said Selina, slicing through Grace’s thoughts.
‘I think you’ve already got that covered, haven’t you?’ said Grace, trying to lighten the mood after their emotional moment. ‘I don’t think I’ve known anyone as keen on death-defying feats as you.’
‘Maybe, but I like to think there are other ways to feel alive besides jumping out of an aeroplane.’
‘So do I, because you’ll never catch me doing that!’
The pair chuckled.
‘What time is it?’ Patrick called from the bedroom, just loud enough for Grace to hear.
‘Patrick’s awake,’ Grace said, ‘I’d best sign off for now.’
‘All right.’
‘But, Selina? I may not be your new best friend any more, especially after everything that’s happened, but stay in touch, won’t you?’
‘It’s a deal,’ Selina said, offering a small smile before ending the Zoom call.
Thirty-Five
Grace turned from her seat on the balcony to see Patrick rubbing his eyes and squinting towards the light shining through the door. Slowly, she closed the laptop and went inside.
‘It’s nearly half twelve. I need to go and meet Kitt shortly,’ she said.
Patrick’s only response was to open his arms to her, inviting her back into the warmth after her spell out in the crisp October day.
She gladly accepted the invitation and stretched out on the bed.
Patrick wrapped his arms around her and laid his head on her tummy. It had been three days since his mother had admitted to murdering Jodie in the car park at Northumberland airport, and for most of those three days he hadn’t left his bed.
Understandably, he hadn’t wanted to go back to Durham with everything so raw. Neither did he want to be alone. Grace was grateful for that last part. There was only so much trauma one person could take and she preferred to be with him so she could keep watch, make sure he didn’t overthink anything, and most importantly didn’t get to a point where he was struggling to find reasons why he should keep on living.
Though not aesthetically dissimilar to Durham, Patrick decided that York was just about far enough away from all that had happened and so booked himself into the Ryedale Hotel for the next week. He had slept for most of the three days, eating only when Grace really pushed the matter. He just lay there and let Grace hold him while he cried.
‘Thank you,’ he said, as she stroked his hair. ‘For letting me . . . for holding me like this.’
‘Yeah,’ Grace said, ‘because holding hot, tortured boys is a real hardship. How will I ever cope?’
He lifted his head so that his chin rested on her tummy and looked up at her. She couldn’t be entirely certain but she thought she could see the ghost of a smile on his face. That was a start.
‘Is Kitt going to update on you on the case when you see her?’
‘Probably,’ Grace said. ‘Although she was being a bit funny on the phone. She seemed sort of weirdly excited . . . giddy almost. Which is not a word I thought I’d ever use to describe her.’
‘No. Me neither. I’ve only met her a handful of times but she doesn’t strike me as the giddy type.’ He paused before speaking again. ‘You already know more than you’ve told me, don’t you? About what Mum did.’
‘Every girl has her secrets.’
‘Grace . . .’
‘Oh, all right. Nothing gets past you . . . or my parents, or Kitt for that mat
ter. It seems I am doomed to be surrounded by people who know my tells.’
A small light shone in Patrick’s eyes at her protest but the light disappeared again in an instant.
‘I need to know.’
Grace pursed her lips. ‘When I was on the phone to Kitt yesterday, she did update me on a few things that have come to light, yes.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Are you sure you’re ready to hear? Couldn’t it wait till I get back from seeing Kitt? So I can be here.’
‘I can handle it.’
Grace took a deep breath. Where to start? ‘Well, the main riddle that’s been solved is what happened with Berkeley. From what your mother said, she took the bribe to expel Jodie just fine but when Jodie disappeared, she suspected what Cynthia must have done and threatened to go to the police. Your mum told her she had someone watching her and if she did that she would frame Berkeley for all that’d happened and make sure she suffered the same fate as Jodie . . .’
‘Go on . . .’ said Patrick. ‘I need to know what she did. Everything.’
‘All right. Berkeley kept quiet about what happened to Jodie, fearing for her life, not to mention the fact that if she told the authorities it would come to light that she’d accepted the bribe. But when the police launched another appeal for information, she saw an opportunity and paid someone to say they saw you down at the river with Jodie right before she disappeared.’
‘Wait. Why me? Why not Mum? If Berkeley knew who did it, why did she implicate me?’
‘Quentin got a full confession out of Berkeley before he offed her so he could decide what the next move should be, and according to him she didn’t want your mother to be able to link the paid witness to her. If Berkeley had bribed a witness to step forward and point the finger at your mum it would have led straight to her. But not so much if the witness claimed you were the culprit. She reasoned that if your mum bribed her to protect your future then you were important to her. Berkeley thought that by implicating you, your mother might be forced to come forward and admit her crime.’
Patrick let out a long, heavy breath. ‘Did Mum write the letter from Jodie?’
Grace nodded. ‘The police found CCTV footage of Quentin in the Silver Street area the day I found the letter. Selina also handed her CCTV footage to the police when she was in custody. He must have gone to Selina’s to plant evidence at her house and dropped the note in my bag a couple of days later when I wasn’t looking. Your mum tried to match the handwriting as best she could and came close but it didn’t test positive for Jodie’s DNA, and on close inspection there were some small but noticeable differences in the handwriting.’
Patrick winced, and rubbed the side of his head. ‘Jodie paid with her life for being with me,’ he said. ‘With her life.’
‘You cannot look at all that’s happened that way, OK?’ said Grace. ‘You had no idea that your mother was capable of any of this. None of us did. You are not to blame.’
Patrick nodded but then frowned. ‘The story didn’t match Berkeley’s suicide note though. If Mum and Quentin were behind both, wouldn’t they try and make the stories match?’
‘Your mum didn’t realize that Berkeley was behind the paid witness when she wrote the first letter. She only wrote it in an attempt to get you released from custody. When she and Quentin figured out Berkeley was behind it, they went after her and wrote another letter in the hope of confusing the police and throwing them further off the track. Quentin stole the award Berkeley mentioned from her house and planted it in the lake at the academy on his way to meet your mum.’
Patrick was silent for a few moments before speaking again. ‘Are you sure they did it, and they’re not just protecting me somehow? I had those flashes, remember? I saw myself with my hands around Jodie’s neck. I couldn’t remember anything that happened but I saw it. I saw myself hurting her. I—’
‘Shhhh,’ Grace soothed. ‘The evidence clears you of any wrongdoing without a shadow of a doubt. Those flashes were probably not memories. They were probably a symptom of PTSD.’
‘I hope you’re right. This is all such a mess,’ Patrick said, sitting up and pushing his hair out of his face. ‘Is there anything else I should know?’
‘Not yet, but after my meeting with Kitt there might be more.’
Patrick nodded. ‘You won’t be long?’
‘I shouldn’t think so. Kitt’s on her lunchbreak and her manager is, shall we say, a little bit on the strict side. Roxy will keep you company while I’m gone.’
At the mention of her name the basset hound in the corner raised her head and looked over at them. When it became clear that Berkeley didn’t have a next of kin and Roxy would be taking a trip to the pound, Patrick had adopted the mutt on the spot.
Easing herself up, Grace walked over to the dog and with some considerable effort just about managed to pick her up before carrying her back to the bed. ‘Here you go, Roxy’s cuddles are almost as good as mine.’
‘What about her kisses?’ Patrick said. There was no glint in his eye, no smirk on his lips, but, given the most he’d managed for the last few days was a few monosyllabic phrases, she knew his joke was a big step forward.
‘You tell me,’ Grace said with a smile as she pulled her coat on.
‘Hey,’ Patrick said, grabbing her hand. ‘I’m sorry I can’t, you know, offer you anything right now.’
Grace shook her head and frowned as though the mere idea of him offering her anything more than friendship was lunacy – which, after everything that had happened, it was. ‘That’s OK, I didn’t ask you for anything.’
He smiled and started to stroke Roxy who was nuzzling him for some fuss. Grace moved towards the door. ‘I’ll be back in about an hour, don’t miss me too much,’ she said, before stepping out into the corridor. She pressed the button for the lift and was down to the ground floor in no time. As she exited the building she realized there was a call she should make on the way to meet Kitt at the Minster. Pulling her phone out of her pocket she dialled and felt a nervous clench in her stomach as it rang. After a minute the call connected.
‘Mum? It’s Grace,’ she said as she walked along the riverside making the most of the autumnal sunlight.
Thirty-Six
‘Everything all right?’ said Kitt as Grace ended the call with her mum and joined her on the bench in front of the Minster.
‘Yeah, just had to call home, you know, let them know I was doing all right.’
Kitt nodded. ‘I’d imagine everything that’s happened in the last week or so has put your disagreement in perspective.’
‘Er, yeah. Just a bit.’
‘How’s Patrick doing?’
‘Still trying to sleep it all off, I think. Certainly, sleep has been a major theme.’
‘And you’re being his nurse Nightingale?’ said Kitt, her look a bit too knowing for Grace’s liking.
‘You’ve seen The English Patient one too many times if you think there’s any funny business going on,’ Grace replied. Though secretly she couldn’t deny that, since the showdown at Northumberland airport three days ago, all she’d wanted to do was hold Patrick close and kiss away his pain, she recognized that this wasn’t an appropriate response to dealing with the level of grief he was experiencing. Just now she’d have to make do with the holding him close part, and then perhaps after six months of rigorous therapy, if he still enjoyed her company, she would let him take her out for a milkshake and see where things went from there. In the meantime, all she could do was help him get through the unthinkable challenges that lay ahead as best she could.
‘I’m probably the only person on the planet who hasn’t seen the film. I have read the book though.’
‘Why am I not surprised?’
Kitt raised her eyebrows. ‘Reading the Booker Prize long list is a minimum stipulation for someone in my walk of life. Besides, the romance was particularly—’
‘Enough about The English Patient, eh?’ said Grace. ‘I need details. What’s
going on with Jodie’s case? Did Cynthia give up the whereabouts of Jodie’s body, or what?’
Grace wasn’t trying to be rude but the location of Jodie’s body was, as far as she knew, the only detail the police hadn’t got out of Cynthia. She’d admitted to tasking Quentin to plant the drugs in Jodie’s locker and to drug Patrick while he slept in his room – using the spare key Patrick had trusted her with – so he wouldn’t wake up until it was all too late. Quentin had also drugged their drinks at Selina’s party so he could plant the evidence at Selina’s house without being recognized by either of them. Although Patrick had asked for updates on everything to do with the case, Grace thought drip-feeding the information was probably for the best. There was so much to talk through, so many sordid details, she feared giving it all to him at once would be too much, despite his protests to the contrary.
The police had dredged the lake at the academy and found Berkeley’s Leaders in Education award but Cynthia had soon confessed that this wasn’t the murder weapon at all – simply an attempt to frame Berkeley for Jodie’s death. Despite all of these unsavoury confessions, the whereabouts of Jodie’s body had not been forthcoming.
Kitt bristled at the interruption, as she always did when one of her lengthy book monologues was in some way derailed, but she soon recovered herself and offered a slight nod in response to Grace’s prior question. ‘Halloran reckons it’s going to hit the news tonight so you’d probably better keep the TV and radio off, and warn Patrick that it’s best he avoids the internet, at least for this evening. It turns out that Jodie’s final resting place was far closer to home than Patrick could ever have realized. Cynthia had made sure the body would never be discovered by a random dog walker out in the woods by burying Jodie beneath her own garage and then getting Quentin to cement over it.’
‘How did she manage that without the neighbours noticing?’