by Joy Ellis
‘Here he is. The year he came to us.’ He handed the picture to Cameron. ‘Second row from the front, in the centre.’ He then showed them the second photograph. ‘And this was the year he left. Rather a change, isn’t there?’
Marie looked at the pictures. The child in the first image was small, hunched, with feral eyes, but in the second picture, he was standing in the back row, a head above his classmates, tall, strong and with a clear, intelligent gaze.
‘That’s the same boy?’ asked Cam incredulously.
‘Hard to believe, isn’t it? Mind you, we had a whole year of hell with him, and then something just clicked. He started to thrive and never looked back.’ Ralph looked proud of the transformation. ‘He was a real success story.’
‘Tell us about his first year, especially when he first arrived. Did you meet the father?’ Cameron had his notebook and pen ready.
Ralph frowned. ‘I did, and I saw through him immediately. Oh, he said all the right things, declared that his wife was on the verge of a breakdown over the child, how he’d done all that was humanly possible to keep Richard at home, but after his sister’s demise things had become intolerable, et cetera, et cetera.’
Marie smiled wryly. ‘But you still took him?’
‘I decided, after a very short conversation, that it was in the child’s best interests to get him away from his home. I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but the father wanted full board, so, yes, we took him in.’ His face darkened. ‘I never saw the father again. His fees were paid through a solicitor, and the payments continued after the father died in a car crash.’
‘And prior to his death, he never visited his son?’ Cameron asked.
‘Never. It was as if he was glad to be shot of the boy.’
‘Nice man,’ muttered Marie. ‘So what was the boy like?’
‘For a long time he never spoke at all. He seemed unable to interact with others, and suffered from extreme anxiety. Because we’d been given no medical history, we really struggled.’
He picked up his mug of tea and drank thoughtfully. ‘We ruled out autism, Asperger’s syndrome and a dozen different learning difficulties. One of our very experienced staff was certain he suffered from Fragile X Syndrome, and for a time I agreed.’
Cameron tilted his head. ‘Fragile X? I’ve never heard of that.’
‘Not well known, I agree,’ Ralph said, ‘but it’s actually the most common cause of learning disabilities. It’s a genetic condition that is found more often in boys than girls, and girls often have milder disabilities. The thing was, there are often physical features associated with Fragile X — a long narrow face with prominent jaw and ears, and Richard did seem to have those.’
Marie recalled Miles’s drawing of the Bad Man. That pointed chin and dark, almond shaped eyes. She had never been able to fathom who or what it reminded her of.
‘It took a long while to understand that it wasn’t a genetic disorder at all. Richard was simply a damaged child. Emotional and physical abuse had made him what he was.’ Ralph’s face brightened. ‘But when we understood that, we had something to work on, and my staff and I began to find ways to bring him out of himself.’ He laughed softly. ‘The best thing we ever did was take him to our school playhouse. Richard suddenly began to talk, but only when he was acting a role. As Richard Ashcroft, he seemed incapable of thought or action.’
‘How long did he remain with you, sir?’ Cameron asked.
‘Until he was seventeen.’
‘And where did he go from there?’ Marie wondered.
Ralph shook his head. ‘We never heard from him again.’
‘Did he give any indication what career he wanted to take up? I suppose he was employable by that time?’ Cameron asked.
‘Oh, Richard was highly intelligent. His IQ was around 140, as I recall. Around genius level.’
‘What is normal?’ Marie enquired, recalling Charlie Button’s words. There is a fine line between idiocy and genius.
‘Between ninety and a hundred and ten.’
Marie’s heart sank. So not only were they chasing a megalomaniac psychopath, he was a bloody genius to boot!
Ralph raised a finger. ‘But that can sometimes come at a price. Mental illness and very high intelligence are sometimes linked. And when you consider the boy’s background, I would be very surprised if he made it to maturity without suffering a serious psychiatric condition at some stage.’
You don’t know how right you are, Marie added silently.
‘In answer to your question regarding a career, Richard could have done anything he wanted, and whatever that was, he would excel at it.’ Ralph nodded, as if to himself.
Marie glanced to Cameron. ‘We’re sorry to take up more of your time, sir, but I was wondering if there was any way you could find the name of the Ashcroft family solicitor for us?’
‘That’s easy. Ashcroft senior used the same solicitor as I do, and they are still operating from their head office in Greenborough. I’ll give you their number.’ Ralph went to the bookcase and took down an old, well-used address book. ‘Bell and Murchison, 14 Old Cask Yard, Greenborough.’ He gave them the phone number, then stopped and looked at them. ‘Is he in trouble, officers?’
Marie nodded. ‘He could be, sir. Serious trouble.’
Ralph looked deeply saddened. ‘And I had such high hopes for him. I honestly believed that one day I’d read about him in the papers, work that he’d done, or that he’d achieved something truly amazing.’ He sighed.
Marie felt very sad. Ralph Burgess had spent years putting a broken boy back together again, and when the truth came out, he would know it had all been for nothing. There was indeed a very good chance that his pupil would make the papers, though not in the way his old mentor would have liked.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
At precisely twelve thirty, Jackman knocked on the door of the superintendent’s office.
‘Ah, good, Rowan. Come in and sit down,’ Ruth said.
His heart sank. She was being nice. Never a good sign.
Ruth looked at him in silence for a while, and then shook her head. ‘I know what you were expecting. Well, you’ve been given a stay of execution. As the details of this investigation haven’t yet been made public, the deputy chief constable has instructed me to allow you to carry on for the time being, so long as you show no sign of undue emotional stress. You will check in regularly with the FMO and Laura Archer, and they will in turn report their findings directly to me. Are we clear?’
Jackman nodded mutely, trying to understand why on earth the DCC had interceded on his behalf.
‘And having got that over with, thank you for keeping me up to speed on what is going on.’ She rested her chin on a cupped hand. ‘Discovering that Alistair Ashcroft is behind it all is quite remarkable progress.’
Jackman dared a smile. ‘The team, with DCI Cameron Walker’s help, have been working flat out, ma’am.’
‘And it hasn’t gone unnoticed. Tell me, do you really believe this man is now directly targeting you and your family? Only I have a theory — from a complete outsider’s point of view of course.’
Jackman chose his words carefully. ‘He has put the frighteners on us, certainly, and from his threat to my sister-in-law, Sarah — his use of the phrase dashing your little ones against the rocks — my biggest fear is that he will carry out this threat, even if Sarah herself is dead.’
Ruth Crooke inclined her head slightly. ‘That’s a reasonable fear to have, Rowan, but I don’t think he will do that.’
Jackman leaned forward. ‘Why, Ruth?’
‘I’m not sure, but I think he is after your undivided attention. I think he wants — no, needs you to know who he is and what he is capable of. I think you are his chosen duelling opponent, a Sherlock to his Moriarty, if you will.’
‘Why? Why me? I know some serial killers crave attention, but usually it’s to get their names in the media. They want fame.’
Ruth raised her hands. �
��It’s just a theory. Let’s gather everything we can on Alistair, then we’ll look at his profile together with Laura, and maybe Professor Sam Page as well. She tells me he is assisting with your nephews?’
Jackman nodded. ‘Sam’s a good man. We could certainly use his input.’
‘Okay, well, every man and woman available is ready and willing to help you. I suggest you get back out there and find Ashcroft.’
Jackman returned to the CID room, still wondering why the DCC should have intervened. Moreover, why had he taken his side? After all, the most natural reaction would have been to take him off the case. He gave a relieved sigh. What mattered most was that he was still in the game.
* * *
At one o’clock, the man who had once been Alistair Ashcroft made ready to go to work. His father, a successful businessman and asshole, had amassed a fortune, and when he obligingly did away with himself, Alistair’s future was assured. He was the only heir, and there was money aplenty. He didn’t have to work at all, but it was part of his new persona.
He looked around his home to check that everything was in order. Attention to detail was vital. He would never have succeeded so well had he not been meticulous in everything he did.
He took his jacket from the hall cupboard. He would leave his motorbike and walk to work today, perhaps calling in at the church on the way. He had the beginnings of a new idea, and the quiet would help him formulate a plan.
He locked the door and strolled beneath the bare-limbed trees. By now Jackman would be interviewing everyone involved in the murder trial. He supposed that the Symons family and their supporters would be first in line. Well, it would keep “his” detective busy, though it would soon be time for them to meet. The church tower rose before him. He would calculate his next move, and then he’d set the stage for their confrontation. It was time Jackman realised just who he was up against.
* * *
Harriet sounded like her old self again. ‘Son, I’ve been wondering if you’ve given any more thought to your father’s idea of bringing Ella, James and the boys to stay with us?’
‘I haven’t had a minute to spare, Mum. I was going to speak to Ella first.’
‘I’ve spoken to her, Rowan, and she thinks it would do the boys good. They can’t go to school, and they’ll soon be bored. There is plenty here to keep them entertained, and they’d be watched over like royalty.’
Jackman thought of those security guards. ‘Okay, that’s fine with me if they want to. What does James think?’
There was a short silence. ‘He’s busy working, Rowan. He told Ella he’d agree to whatever she wanted to do.’
‘Hell, Mum! Couldn’t he, just for once—?’
She spread her hands. ‘I know, I know! But it’s the only way he can cope at the moment. Give him some time. Please?’
He bit back his retort. ‘I’ll tell the superintendent and arrange transport for Ella and the boys. As long as you are sure?’
‘We are, son. We’d feel much happier if we were all together.’
Sitting ducks. Jackman wasn’t convinced. ‘Okay, Mum. I’ll ring Ella and ask her to get ready.’
‘Before you go, Rowan, don’t be angry with him, but your father had a quiet word with a golfing friend of his,’ she looked at him rather sheepishly, ‘who I believe might just have been a deputy chief constable.’
‘Mum! I don’t need my father’s help to hold on to my job!’
‘He meant it for the best, Rowan, and did it because he believes that you, of all people, can get to the bottom of all this. He did it because he trusts you, and he didn’t want this conflict of interest thing holding you back. So, as I said, don’t be cross, dear.’
Jackman gritted his teeth, then suddenly felt quite emotional. To hear that his father trusted him and thought he was the best man for the job was extraordinary. ‘Don’t worry, Mum, it’s fine.’
Ella had already begun to pack when he rang. ‘Your parents are right, Jackman, and it’s also one less worry for you. Your mum says the security men are highly trained ex-military men, used to protecting VIPs and government ministers. I reckon we will be safer there than anywhere, don’t you?’
Keeping his reservations to himself, Jackman agreed. ‘I’ve seen those goons, Mum’s right about them. But even so, keep your wits about you, won’t you, Ella? I’ve just learned that the man we are up against has an extremely high IQ.’
Ella laughed. ‘Good. It’s been my experience that highly intelligent people have little or no common sense.’
Jackman chuckled. ‘Nevertheless, I’m not going to underestimate this man.’
‘Nor are we.’ Her tone was serious now. ‘I’m not letting those two lads out of my sight for one minute, police protection or not.’
‘Thank you, Ella. And I mean that. It means such a lot to me, and to Mum too, knowing that you are looking out for them.’
‘I’m glad I can help. I wish the circumstances had been different, that’s all. They are lovely children.’ Ella paused. ‘They are Sarah’s children, and I think she was a lovely person too. More than anyone, I’m doing it for her.’
‘Hang on in there, Ella. We have half the Fenland constabulary working on catching him.’
‘Maybe you could use the other half too? I could do with a night’s sleep.’
‘You and me both.’
Jackman ended the call. How easy Ella was to talk to! It was just such a shame that she had chosen to leave a job she was so good at. Still, if she hadn’t left, where would they be now? Jackman wondered what Ella would do when all this was over, and Ryan and Miles no longer needed her. Jackman worried that she might grow too attached to his nephews, and then her cycle of depression could begin all over again.
He straightened up and took hold of his wandering thoughts. It was ridiculously early to be thinking about what might happen years down the line. What was he doing, wool-gathering like this? He should be working.
It was a relief to see Marie.
‘I’ve spoken to the firm of solicitors that dealt with the Ashcroft estate. They assured me that they did deal with Charles’s will and that his son, Richard, inherited the whole estate.’ Marie sat down facing Jackman. ‘That part is fine, it backs up what Ralph Burgess told us. The next bit, however . . .’ Marie sighed.
‘Is not so good?’ Jackman said.
‘It’s crap, actually.’ Marie pulled a face. ‘As soon as he was “of age,” as they say, Richard took every penny out of the investments and banks, sold the properties — of which there were three — and did a disappearing act. It’s anyone’s guess where the money went.’
‘Would that “anyone” include Orac?’ Jackman said. ‘I’m sure I heard you say that one of her specialities was tracing money?’
Marie smiled. ‘Of course! I’ll go and see her.’
‘How are the others doing? Anything interesting come out of the interviews yet?’ Jackman asked.
‘Not a thing. In fact, none of the interviewing teams have had the slightest suspicion about any of them. The two big problems are Liam and Dale Symons. No matter how hard we try, we never catch them in.’
Jackman shrugged. ‘It won’t be Dale anyhow. We’ve seen him, remember? He’s tall and fairly dark haired, but you saw him — he’s big, a bit of a tank really, and the man in the school CCTV footage was slim. Dale doesn’t fit at all.’
‘I agree, but why is he avoiding us?’
‘To piss us off. He hates us, Marie.’
Marie stood up. ‘Oh well, there are a few more people to talk to, then we’ll have to look further afield, I guess.’
‘What’s Cam doing at the moment?’ asked Jackman.
‘He and his DC Penny are trawling through the PNC and local intelligence to look for any mention of a Richard Stephan Ashcroft. We’re pretty sure he won’t be known to us for any criminal offences, but Cam wants to see if the name pops up in relation to some other matter.’
‘I don’t think they’ll find him, but we have to
check.’ Jackman was certain they wouldn’t find Ashcroft. He was far too smart. ‘Go talk to Orac. She’s our best bet.’
He grinned. ‘And send her my regards.’
Marie laughed. ‘Oh, I will, don’t worry.’
* * *
James Jackman finished the conference call with his counterparts across the country and heaved a sigh of relief. Another lucrative deal pulled off. He pushed back his chair and stood up. He went over to the window and stared out. Every time his mind was freed from work, the terrible pain flooded in and threatened to drown him.
James knew how his continuing to work looked to others, but it was the only thing holding him together.
Swallowing back a sob, James pulled out his smartphone and rang his brother.
‘Rowan?’ He fought to control the tears. ‘If you have a minute?’
‘James? Of course, what’s the matter?’
‘I need to explain, I need to tell you why I’m here, and not with my children.’ For several minutes he poured his heart out to his brother; told him of the dread of having too much thinking time, and his horrible fear of losing control of everything.
Then it was Rowan’s turn, and James found his brother’s voice incredibly calming. He said he understood, but that somehow he had to find time to make Miles and Ryan understand too, because right now they didn’t, and he could see them starting to think that their father was not there because of something they’d done. ‘Find some downtime with them, James. They love you, and you’re all they have now.’
They talked for a while longer and James came off the phone believing that he had said enough to make his brother really understand. The outpouring had done him good, and it also made him realise how little time he and Rowan spent together. He wondered if they’d ever talked this openly before.
He walked back to his desk and sat down. A new resolve coursed through him. He picked up the phone and asked for his secretary to come in.
‘Sonia? No more calls. And I’ll be leaving early.’ He stopped, then added, ‘And any emergencies, refer them to one of the team, okay? I want to be with my boys.’