THE GUILTY ONES a gripping crime thriller filled with stunning twists

by Joy Ellis

  ‘That’s the boys’ playroom,’ Jackman whispered. ‘Some of the stairs squeak. Keep to the right hand side.’

  They inched their way up the staircase and into the corridor leading to the playroom. Now they could hear voices.

  Jackman held out his arm and brought them to a halt. He and Marie stood shoulder to shoulder and listened.

  Initially, Marie thought there were three people in the room. Then she realised that two of them were Alistair, his voice changing. One moment he sounded strong and commanding, and the next, feeble and whining. This is not good, she thought. Laura had said he could be unravelling. It was as if she were listening to a ventriloquist and his dummy.

  Jackman’s jaw set firm. ‘He’s losing it, he could kill James at any moment. Marie, go back outside and call Robbie. Get that squad down here. I’ll buy us as much time as I can.’

  The last thing Marie wanted to do was leave him with this madman. But they had agreed. She touched his arm, nodded, and slipped back down the corridor.

  It seemed to take forever to get downstairs and then outside, where thankfully, her phone had a good signal.

  Robbie answered instantly.

  ‘He’s here at Rainham Lodge, and he’s got James. We need armed back up as arranged, silent approach and the last part on foot. Understand?’

  ‘We’re not far away, Marie. Just stay outside and guide us in, okay?’ She could hear the tremor in his voice. He was scared for her.

  ‘Sorry, Robbie. I need to be with Jackman.’ She ended the call.

  Before going back inside, she ran to where she had left her bike, and pushed it to a spot much closer to the house. She wanted Harvey within easy reach. She concealed the motorbike behind a large bushy laurel and then ran back to the front door. With a glance to check it couldn’t be seen, she took a deep breath and slipped back into the house.

  * * *

  Jackman’s blood ran cold. His brother’s terrified voice was shrill through the closed door. Self-assured, dogmatic and sometimes patronising, James now sounded like a frightened animal.

  He had no strategy worked out but Jackman recalled Laura’s words. There would be no reasoning with this man.

  So what the hell! He burst through the door and came to a halt in a makeshift schoolroom.

  His brother cried out, ‘Rowan!’ A hefty slap across his face made his head slew sideways.

  Jackman made out two desks. He had bought them himself, ready for when the boys started doing homework. A brief glance revealed several chairs, all facing the front of the room, and Alistair had painted a blackboard on the plain wall. On it, in white marker pen, were the words, “I must not neglect my children.”

  Ashcroft stood on an upturned crate that the boys had used to store toys in. James was tied to a chair within striking distance of Ashcroft, “taking class.”

  ‘Leave him alone! Alistair! You have to stop this!’

  His unexpected entry had made Ashcroft angry. ‘How dare you! This is a private court, and this man is charged with neglecting his children.’

  ‘And I’m his defence.’

  Ashcroft gave him a look of unalloyed malice. Then — suddenly — he smiled. ‘Ah, I see. In that case, please take a seat.’ Ashcroft now seemed amused. ‘I have to hand it to you, Inspector. I never thought you’d guess where I’d bring your brother. You are remarkably astute.’

  Jackman remained where he was. ‘Alistair, please. I’m going to ask you to let my brother go. You can take me instead.’

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James’s eyes widen.

  ‘I mean it. You and me, Alistair. You don’t need James. You took away the woman he loved with all his heart. Isn’t that enough punishment? You made him like this. He loves his sons. He’s grieving for his dead wife, and you are to blame, not him.’

  ‘Do the children understand that they are being ignored and left alone at night with only a nanny because Daddy misses Mummy? Do they understand when nightmares claim them, and their father is not there to comfort them because he’s working late? How do they feel when he misses their big football match or their presentation at school? They still hurt, Jackman. They still feel it in here!’ Ashcroft thumped his chest. ‘To be ignored, made to feel like you don’t exist, that you are nothing! It’s soul-destroying! No man should make his sons suffer like that. You say I don’t need James, but I do. Sorry, Jackman, it’s your brother that needs to pay, not you.’

  The gun was stuck in the waistband of Ashcroft’s trousers. With no way of getting hold of it, all Jackman could do was try and talk him down.

  ‘Why do you want to destroy my family?’

  Ashcroft laughed. ‘What? It was your Sarah that destroyed my family! This trial is simply to right a wrong. I don’t want to hurt your family. I don’t care one iota about your family. I’m just here to see justice done.’

  ‘The man who killed Lyndsay was the one who destroyed your family, not Sarah.’ Jackman tried to think. Come on, Jackman, reason isn’t going to work. Maybe he should try to provoke some physical reaction from Ashcroft. He was pretty sure he could get the upper hand in a fight, so long as the gun didn’t come into play. Time to up the ante.

  ‘Do you know what I think?’

  Ashcroft narrowed his eyes.

  ‘I think you just love hurting, no, torturing, and killing people. But you need an excuse, something oh so high and mighty, some worthy cause. Otherwise you’d be just like any other low-life scumbag with half a brain, roaming the streets with a knife in his hand!’

  The eyes were mere slits now, and Jackman knew Ashcroft was fighting to control his rage.

  ‘Think what you want. But you’re wrong. I am not like anyone you’ve ever dealt with, Jackman.’

  ‘No, Alistair. You’re just another damaged kid whose mind couldn’t take it. Just another psychopath to be hunted down and locked away. You’re nothing special, Alistair.’ He shrugged. ‘Sorry.’

  Ashcroft clenched and unclenched his hands, his knuckles white. ‘You’ll regret this, Jackman. I’ll make you eat those words.’

  He snatched the gun from his waistband, snapped back the safety catch, pointed it at James’s head, and . . .

  Ashcroft screamed. The sound of the gun echoed around the room.

  It took Jackman a moment to realise that Marie had burst into the room and flung a cast-iron frying pan at Ashcroft. It had hit his arm, knocking the gun from his hand, and the shot had gone wild.

  Before Jackman could grab him, Ashcroft snatched up the gun and lunged at Marie. Jackman called upon his rugby days, and hurled himself across the room in a flying tackle. His shoulder made contact with Ashcroft, making him stumble, but as he did, Ashcroft caught Marie a punishing blow to the ribs. Jackman heard her groan and go down.

  Then the gun swung round towards him again, this time at point blank range.

  A second deafening shot rang out, but Marie had managed to jam her boot hard against Ashcroft’s calf, dead legging him, and Jackman felt the shot tear into his upper arm.

  ‘Sir! Jackman!’ Marie flung herself down alongside him, gasping for air.

  ‘It’s okay, it’s okay, Just my arm. You saved my li—’ He looked around frantically. ‘Where is he?’

  Marie didn’t answer. Instead, she hauled herself up and staggered through the door. ‘Phone Robbie!’ she yelled back. ‘I’m going after Ashcroft.’

  * * *

  Outside, she heard the roar of an engine and paused to listen. ‘Yamaha R6,’ she whispered to herself. ‘Fast, but it all comes down to who is riding it.’ Clasping her bruised ribs she sprinted to where Harvey waited for her. She pulled on her helmet and in seconds was heading for the only way out, over the bridge.

  As she banked sharply into the lane, Ashcroft’s rear light now in her sights, she saw a stream of fast-moving cars heading towards her. ‘The cavalry,’ she muttered. ‘Too late for this particular race.’

  Ashcroft blasted past the police cars, with Marie right on his tail. For a fleet
ing second, as she flew past, she thought she saw Robbie Melton’s ghost-white face. ‘Sorry, Robbie,’ she murmured.

  She knew the road they were on, hopefully better than Ashcroft did. It had a long straight stretch that ran for miles, and then it got tricky as it headed out over the fens. There, the road began to wind in a series of sharp, tight bends. They were scary in daylight. At night, well, if you overcooked a corner on a fast bike, heaven help you.

  Ashcroft was riding well, but she detected a slight hesitation when he took the corners. The problem was, where was he going? Should she let him reach his destination, or try to cut short this hair-raising ride? After a mile at high speed, she knew she was the better rider, but how to use it to her advantage? Marie tried to visualise the road. She knew it widened just ahead and then gave way to a gentle bend, followed by a narrow stretch with a wall one side and a dyke the other.

  She drew in a breath and closed the gap between them. The Yamaha was handling well, but she knew it was no match for Harvey, so long as she kept a cool head.

  Offering up a prayer to her Bill, asking him to keep her safe, she eased down on the accelerator. She tailgated him down the wide stretch of road, then, just as he leaned into the corner, she pulled out and cut in, braking as she did. Her rear wheel nicked his front tyre, and Ashcroft spun out of control.

  Marie went into a controlled skid, vaguely aware that his bike was spinning like a top on the tarmac. Then it crashed into the wall.

  As it did so, a piece of fairing tore off and flew across the road like a javelin, jamming into Harvey’s front forks and sending her beloved bike into a cartwheel.

  It happened in slow-motion. Air all around her. Flying . . . then she hit the ground, and skidded on her leathers to where Ashcroft was trying to extricate himself from the wreckage of his bike.

  At the same moment, each of them fastened their eyes on the gun lying in the road. They were both injured. Marie wondered who was stronger. What did they call her in the mess room? The Amazon. Damned bloody right!

  She knew her leg was bad, but she dragged herself towards the gun, which seemed to shimmer on the asphalt. She saw Ashcroft, too, blood flowing from an arm that hung limp against his side. But he was on his feet. He leaned forward to grab the weapon. Marie summoned her strength and used her good leg to kick it out of reach.

  She heard the splash as it landed in the dyke.

  Now he was standing over her, his face a mask of pain and rage.

  ‘This isn’t over,’ he gasped. ‘I’ll let you live, but only to give Jackman my message. Tell him I’m a patient man, but he would do well to keep looking over his shoulder. One day I’ll come for him.’

  Ashcroft drew back his foot, and kicked her bruised ribs hard. Just before she lost consciousness, she saw his dark shadow move away. He meant what he said.

  He would be back.

  EPILOGUE

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  Robbie looked around his home and liked what he saw. Now he could really call it a home. It had taken Max about ten minutes to tell him what it needed. Then he brought in Rosie to add her thoughts, and in another two weeks the transformation was complete.

  The thing he liked best was the far wall of the big open-plan living area, in front of his modern dining table and chairs. Max had hung a painting of a beautiful harbour scene, with high cliffs, a calm sea and colourful boats.

  Along with new drapes, bright cushions, and some strategically placed, architecturally dramatic potted plants in striking containers, his minimalistic, sterile “hotel room” had taken on real character.

  He glanced at the massive station clock on the kitchen wall, another new acquisition. His friends would be arriving any minute. The team had wanted to celebrate Max and Rosie’s recent marriage, but because of what had happened, no one felt it appropriate to go and get hammered down at the local. So he had suggested coming to his apartment for an informal get together.

  Robbie took two bottles of champagne from the fridge, and thought back over the last two months. It had been a strange time, full of intense emotion and sadness. Alistair Ashcroft had disappeared into thin air, but he’d cast a dark shadow over all their lives, and Robbie suspected that shadow would never go until Ashcroft was found and incarcerated.

  Ashcroft’s evil presence had had the effect of bringing to the fore those things that really mattered in their lives, and for the first time in a long while, Robbie had seen things clearly. He now knew that he had put Marie Evans, like Stella North, on a pedestal and worshipped her. Now she was simply a dear friend and colleague. Having realised this, he had been able to move on with his life. He and Ella Jarvis had started dating. In just a short time of getting to know each other, she had confessed to having felt the same way about Jackman. She had been vulnerable, and had looked to Jackman to be her tower of strength, but it had never been love.

  Robbie wasn’t quite sure if it was love now, but whatever it was, they were happy together. Ella had decided that she would stay on with the children until Rainham Lodge was sold. James had accepted his parents’ offer for them to move back into the family home where the boys would have their granny and grandpa, and their new pony, and hopefully a better life. Then Ella would be able to move on, and the direction she had decided to take, was back into forensics, and Rory had welcomed the decision with open arms. Apparently the biggest surprise to her had been the radical change in James Jackman. Hearing his brother offer to take his place at the hands of the killer had caused a profound change in him, and as soon as he was recovered, he took extended leave of absence from the business and became a father again.

  Marie and Gary arrived first. She still walked with a limp, but the surgeons had given a good prognosis, and she was already scouring the Internet for a successor for the irreparably damaged Harvey.

  ‘Wow!’ she exclaimed. ‘Robbie Melton! What a fantastic place!’

  Robbie flushed with pride. Stella’s “hotel room” was no more.

  Marie and Gary were soon followed by Rory and the others, and by the time Robbie had uncovered the buffet food and handed out the drinks, the flat was full of the sound of chattering voices. Robbie stood back for a moment, and watched them. They were all relaxed and enjoying the celebration, but something had changed in them. Their encounter with Ashcroft had left a scar. No one laughed quite as loudly or for as long as they used to, the banter was less animated, smiles faded quicker. Ashcroft moved among them, the uninvited guest who spoiled the feast.

  Robbie turned to his boss. ‘Jackman, sir? Like to propose a toast?’

  Jackman, who had been sitting close to Laura on the couch, stood up and raised his glass. ‘First, thank you, Robbie, for allowing us into your beautiful home! And it’s come as a bit of a surprise, I must say. We all thought you lived in some bedsit, tucked away down a Saltern backstreet, not this magnificent apartment!’

  Everyone laughed. Robbie smiled and nodded at Max and Rosie.

  ‘Now, for the reason why we are all here. We have come to wish our dear friends, Max and Rosie, a wonderful life together, with their little one. May the path you walk together, even if sometimes it’s steep or rough, have a wonderful view from the top! To Rosie and Max!’

  They all raised their glasses and the room rang with cheers.

  When the noise died down, Jackman remained standing. ‘If I may,’ he looked around, ‘I’m not going to spoil this lovely evening that Robbie has kindly arranged, but I can think of no better time, as we are all here together, to tell you something that I feel is very important.’

  Robbie frowned. This sounded serious, and for a moment he was scared that Jackman was going to publicly acknowledge the elephant in the room. If anything was going to spoil the celebration, surely it would be that.

  ‘As you all know, if the jungle drums are working as efficiently as usual, Laura and I have been going out together for almost two months.’

  ‘And about bloody time!’ Marie called out.

  ‘Here, here!’ echoed Ror
y. ‘You’re far too good-looking to be a bachelor!’

  Everyone laughed, and Jackman pulled a face at them.

  ‘The thing is, this should be the happiest of times, but I haven’t allowed it to be, and for that, I want to apologise to Laura.’ He gently laid his hand on her shoulder. ‘And I want to promise her something. In fact, I want to promise you all something.’

  Robbie watched, and having felt anxious about what his boss might be about to say, now felt a kind of excited anticipation.

  ‘The fact is, I have been eaten up with guilt about the way I handled our last case. I failed to bring an evil man to justice, but even worse than that, I’ve allowed that failure to blight everything from that moment on. It’s been like a cancer eating away, and I’ve seen the way you have all been caught up in this terrible negativity. But no more.’

  There were murmurs of dissent. No one blamed Jackman for what had happened.

  ‘No, listen, please. Tonight I’m going to tell you all that Alistair Ashcroft is no longer going to creep amongst us like a dark unspoken-of wraith. He will no longer poison our minds with his insidious whisperings. Every time we choose to mention him in hushed tones, he wins.’ His eyes became hard. ‘And that man is not going to win! Tonight we put him back into the category where he belongs. He’s a twisted and cold-blooded killer, a psychopath that has no place roaming free, and we, my friends, are going to put him away!’

  Electricity coursed through the room. Backs straightened and eyes lit up.

  ‘This is my promise. I will not let my feelings, or my guilt, affect any of you again. We’re going to become the fully functioning dynamic team we always have been. We’re going to be first-class detectives again, and this will give us our lives back. Oh, he hurt us, hell yes. But he won’t do it again. We won’t sit and wait for our patient killer to decide what happens next . . . we go after him, and we take him down.’