by Amy Cross
“Got you,” Jo said again, before grabbing her other phone and bringing up the number for Detective Grant.
Chapter Forty-Three
Today
“This is an outrage!” Margaret Stone shouted as two uniformed officers led her in handcuffs toward a patrol car that was waiting in the cold night air outside the mansion. “My lawyers will have you all fired by sunrise!”
“They're welcome to try, M'am,” Detective Grant said as she was placed in the car. Sighing, he turned to Jo. “She'll break. There's no lawyer in the land who'll tell her it's a good idea to fight this. If she cooperates now, there might be a slim chance she gets out of jail one day. Of course, she'd probably have to live to a hundred and eighty, but hope's hope.”
“She should rot,” Jo replied bitterly, as she watched the car's windows. After a moment Margaret peered out and the two women stared at each other. The hatred in Margaret's gaze was more than apparent, and she mouthed something that Jo had no chance of hearing.
Still, she figured it was unlikely to be a jolly farewell.
“I'll follow her to the station,” Bradley Botham said, clearly shocked as he hurried out of the house. “If there's anything I can do...”
“Maybe you should just let her go,” Jo suggested.
“I can't do that,” he replied. “She's all alone. She needs me.”
“She used you.”
“She still needs me.” He hesitated, and for a moment he seemed poised to burst into tears, but finally he took a deep breath. “I'll wait for her,” he continued. “I have that spare room. I'll make it up, and I'm sure that one day she'll be able to come and live with me. Then we can maybe think about the future. I know it won't be easy, but I'll wait. After all, I've stood by her side so far, and she's a good person. Honestly, she just made a little mistake.”
With that, he turned and headed over to his car.
“There's none so blind as them that's in love,” Grant said with a sigh. “That's what my old granddad used to say, anyway. I think he might have been onto something.”
“He's really going to wait for her, isn't her?” Jo whispered, watching as Bradley drove away. “Even after the way she's treated him.”
“This is going to be a long night,” Grant continued. “I'm just about sick and tired of this family. There aren't any more of them out there, are there? I bloody hope not, anyway. I hope we've at least managed to contain this outbreak of lunacy.”
“I'm not sure there's an easy answer to that question,” Jo muttered as he walked away. Turning, she wandered through the house as officers continued to search every room, and finally she stepped out onto the rear patio, where Nick was furiously tapping at his phone. “How's your scoop going?” she asked.
“The nationals are picking it up,” he said excitedly. “I'm already working on the follow-up. All those bloody parasites from the other papers are gonna be crawling over this place in the morning. I need to make sure I stay one step ahead. I've gotta be like a shark, I've gotta keep moving or my career'll be dead in the water.” He glanced at her. “How about an exclusive interview?”
She shook her head.
“Come on!” he continued, pleading now. “You might get a book deal out of this!”
“The book deal's all yours,” she replied, looking across the vast, empty lawn and seeing the dark trees in the distance. “I can tell you a few things, though, so long as they're kept strictly off the record and -”
Stopping suddenly, she realized she could see a figure far away, almost hidden behind one of the trees. She stared for a moment, convinced that she had to be wrong, but the figure persisted. For a moment, she considered the possibility that she really was seeing a ghost, but she quickly reminded herself that ghosts didn't exist. Whoever she was seeing, it was a real, living, breathing person.
“What are you looking at?” Nick asked, turning to look the same way before suddenly setting his phone aside as he got to his feet. “Is there someone out there?”
“I'm not sure that -”
“Oi!” he yelled, starting to race across the lawn, waving his arms. “Hold up! I want a word with you!”
“Stop!” Jo shouted, before sighing and setting off after him. By the time she caught up, Nick was already far ahead, and a moment later she stopped as she realized she wasn't quite sure where he'd gone. She looked around, but all she saw now were bare, dark trees rising up toward the night sky. And then, a few seconds later, she heard voices shouting over by the white wall, accompanied by the sound of a scuffle.
Hurrying in that direction, she arrived just in time to find Nick on the floor, clutching his bloodied face.
“He did it again!” he gasped, barely getting the words out. “It was the same bastard as last time! He re-broke my nose!”
“You'll live,” Jo muttered, stepping past him and hurrying toward the wall. She looked around, hoping to spot some sign of whoever had attacked Nick, but at first there was nobody to be seen. Just as she was about to give up, however, she reached the bottom of a small incline and saw a scrawny figure scrambling up the other side.
She froze for a moment, watching the figure, as she finally realized who she was seeing.
“Rachel!” she called out.
The figure froze.
“You are Rachel, aren't you?” Jo continued, taking a step forward but then stopping, not wanting to spook the girl. “You're Rachel Stone.”
The girl hesitated, before slowly turning to look at her. Fifteen years old, small and thin but with wiry, alert features, she looked as if she still might bolt at any moment.
“I knew Cassie,” Jo said, her heart pounding as she realized she'd finally found the girl she'd been searching for since her arrival in Landsley. “I was with her when she died. I'm sorry. You and Cassie were friends, weren't you?”
She waited for a reply, but still the girl seemed frozen in place, like a wild animal.
“And the speaker was the same type that Herbert used to drive his wife crazy all those years ago. That was a nice dramatic touch. I'm guessing it was Cassie's idea.”
Again, no reply.
“Thank you for leading me to the gun,” Jo continued. “That was you, wasn't it? And thank you for giving my phone back, with all those pictures and videos. I don't know if we'd have been able to get Margaret arrested without your help.” She paused, worried that the girl was about to turn and run at any moment. “So the speaker was your way of signaling to Cassie once she was in the house, wasn't it?” she asked. “You came here together. Why did Cassie pretend to be you, though? Were you scared? Did Mac, the man who kidnapped you, tell you about your crazy family when he was on his deathbed? Is that it? And did you tell Cassie, and did she say that the pair of you had to do something about it? I'm sorry, I have so many questions. Did you ever -”
“It was Cassie's idea,” Rachel replied suddenly, her voice sounding frail and weak. She had a strong Liverpool accent that stood in stark contrast to the clipped, received pronunciation of the Stone family. “She said it wasn't right, what they'd done. She said they had to pay.”
“She was right about that,” Jo pointed out.
“Mac was good to me,” Rachel continued. “He saved me from being like them. He and his wife didn't have any money, but they were good people.”
“I believe you.”
“Cassie thought we could expose the Stones. She said 'cause I was a blood descendant, maybe I could inherit everything if we proved that Herbert died all those years ago.”
“That might well be the case,” Jo told her. “I imagine there's a lot of paperwork to go through, but at the end of it all the house and the business and all of it will probably go to you.”
“I don't want it.”
“It could be worth tens of millions.”
“I still don't want it.”
“Rachel, if -”
“I'd have to be a Stone, wouldn't I?” she continued, with a hint of fear in her eyes now. “I'd have to be one of them. There's n
o amount of money in the world that'd make me do that.”
“You wouldn't have to be like your parents,” Jo pointed out. “That's not how it works.”
“I don't want to take the risk,” Rachel replied, looking toward the distant house with an expression of pure disgust. “I don't want anything from them, either. From everything Mac told me, and from everything Cassie uncovered, it sounds like they were awful people. I don't want to do anything that links me to them.”
“You could take the money and -”
“I don't want it!” she hissed. “I'm not taking it, so just shut up about it!”
“Okay,” Jo replied, holding her hands up, hoping to calm the situation and keep Rachel from running. “That doesn't mean you have to leave, though. Can we talk? I want to help you. I wanted to help Cassie, but I couldn't. Please, maybe there's something I can do for you.” She waited for an answer. “Where do you live?”
“Don't worry about me.”
“Are you all alone now that Cassie's gone?”
“I said don't worry about me!”
“You're fifteen years old and you're homeless,” Jo continued. “Why don't you come with me tonight? I'll get you a room at the pub, and then tomorrow we can start looking into places you can go, and people who can help.”
“Cassie helped me,” Rachel replied. “She was my friend.”
“She's gone, and I'm so sorry about that, but I don't think she'd want you to keep living on the streets. Not when you've got a chance to have a different kind of life.” She paused, before reaching a hand out toward her. “I can't make any promises about what'll happen,” she continued, “but I'll help you. Whatever it takes, and whatever you want, I'll make sure that you don't have to live on the streets. You can even stay with me for a while, if that's what you need. But please, Rachel, let me help you.”
Rachel hesitated for a moment, staring at her hand, before finally taking a step closer. Slowly, clearly still uncertain, she reached out and -
“Oi! Come here, you!”
Suddenly Nick came stumbling through the forest, with a hand pressed against his bloodied nose. Rachel immediately turned and bolted, racing away between the trees.
“Come back!” Jo shouted, rushing after her but stopping as she reached the top of the incline. The first rays of morning light were starting to creep through the forest, but Rachel was already gone. “I want to help you!”
“Who the hell was that?” Nick asked as he struggled up to join her.
Jo paused, before sighing as she turned to him.
“Remember that big, stocky guy who broke your nose?” she asked, before patting him on the shoulder. “It was actually a fifteen-year-old girl”
“No way!” he replied, as she made her way back down the incline, heading toward the house. “You're joking, right?” He hesitated, before hurrying after her, still clutching his re-broken nose. “Jo? You're joking. Jo, come on, there's no way a fifteen-year-old girl could lay me out! Not twice! That's not possible!”
Epilogue
Two weeks later
Slipping through the narrow gap in the broken gate, Jo stepped into the alley that ran behind a set of buildings near Vauxhall Bridge in London. Already, she could see several homeless people sitting nearby on the ground, but they merely glanced at her briefly before turning back to one another and resuming their conversation.
Stepping around the cans and crates that had been left scattered on the ground, Jo made her way along the alley until she reached a turning, and then she spotted a familiar figure sitting wedged between two walls, warming her mittened hands over a small fire that was burning in a tin can.
“Brenda?” Jo said as she got closer. “I don't know if you remember me, but I was here a few weeks ago. I was looking for Cassie Hayes.”
Brenda glanced up at her and stared for a moment, showing no sign of recognition until finally a faint flicker of a smile crossed her lips.
“Anyway,” Jo continued, reaching into her bag and taking out the old doll she'd brought from the Stone mansion, “I was hoping that maybe a girl named Rachel Stone had come back here. She used to be friends with Cassie, and I think they met somewhere near this part of the city.”
“You mean the scrawny girl who followed Cassie around a while back?”
“I think that's her.”
“She's a timid, shy little thing. Not much meat on her bones, either.”
“Have you seen her over the past few weeks?”
“Maybe I have and maybe I haven't,” Brenda replied. “I'm not sure I'd feel right gossiping, though. What is she to you, anyway? Are you a friend?”
“I'm a...” Jo paused as she tried to work out the best answer to that question. Finally, she simply held out the doll. “This belongs to her. Can I leave it with you? If you happen to see her again, would you mind giving it to her?”
Brenda eyed the doll with suspicion for a moment, before cautiously reaching out and taking it from Jo's hand.
“I'll give it to her,” she said as she examined the doll, and then she placed it in one of her many large, overflowing bags of plastic and old bottles. “If I ever see her. Which I'm not promising.”
“And could you give her this, too?” Jo added, holding out a small cream-colored business card bearing her name and contact details. “Could you tell her that if she ever needs anything, she only has to get in touch. No strings, no demands. I'd just like to help her some day, if she'll let me.”
“I think you'll be waiting a long time.”
“I know, but please, can you give her the card?”
“She won't want it.”
“Can you at least try?”
Sighing, Brenda took the card. “Fine, I'll give it to her,” she said, tucking the card next to the doll. “If I see her, that is.”
“Thank you,” Jo replied, before looking along the alley and seeing various faces. For a moment she felt a flicker of hope that perhaps she'd spot Rachel somewhere, but then she realized that the odds were stacked against her. Turning back to Brenda, she saw that the older woman was watching her with a knowing smile.
“Now you'd best be getting off,” Brenda said. “I'm a busy woman and I've got things to do, so I can't sit around here nattering to you all day.”
“Sure,” Jo said, taking a step back. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to disturb you. Just -”
“I'll get these things to Rachel if I see her,” Brenda replied. “Now go on. Scram! You might not have a busy day lined up, but I do and I'd appreciate being left alone to get on with things.”
“Of course.” With that, Jo turned and walked away. She still couldn't help looking at the faces of the people she passed, still hoping against hope that Rachel might suddenly reveal herself, but finally she reached the gate and slipped back out onto the main road, and she realized that she'd done almost all she could. She still hoped that Rachel would eventually get in touch, although she knew deep down that she'd probably be waiting a long time. In fact, as she stopped for a moment and considered going back to the alley, she realized that maybe Rachel didn't need her help at all.
Stuffing her hands in her jacket pocket, she set off along the busy street, just as a light rain began to fall. She had one more stop to make that day, at the hope of the Hayes family, where she'd have to tell a grieving family all about the death of their daughter.
Coming soon
THE PROMISED GRAVE
(Jo Mason book 3)
Also in this series
THE MURDER AT SKELLIN COTTAGE
Skellin Cottage is an oasis of peace and tranquillity. Miles from the nearest town, nestled far out in the English countryside, it's the perfect place for visitors who want to get away from the world for a while. And then one morning the cottage's latest tenant, Deborah Dean, is found brutally murdered.
After several months of police inactivity, the cottage's owner Lord Martin Chesleford decides to take matters into his own hands. Hiring former police officer Joanna Mason, who now works alone as a p
rivate investigator, he demands that Deborah's murderer is brought to justice.
But while Deborah had tried to isolate herself at Skellin Cottage, she'd already begun to attract attention. Terrified of her own past, Deborah lived a life of fear, desperately afraid that the truth would one day be revealed. And as the ongoing investigation uncovers old secrets and new rivalries, another murder is right around the corner.
Also by Amy Cross
PERFECT LITTLE MONSTERS
AND OTHER STORIES
A husband waits until his wife and children are in bed, before inviting a dangerous man into their home...
A girl keeps hold of her mother's necklace, as bloodied hands try to tear it from her grasp...
A gun jams, even as its intended victim begs the universe to let her die...
Perfect Little Monsters and Other Stories is a collection of short stories by Amy Cross. Some of the stories take place in seemingly ordinary towns, whose inhabitants soon discover something truly shocking lurking beneath the veneer of peace and calm. Others show glimpses of vast, barbaric worlds where deadly forces gather to toy with humanity. All the stories in this collection peel back the face of a nightmare, revealing the horror that awaits. And in every one of the stories, some kind of monster lurks...
Perfect Little Monsters and Other Stories contains the new stories Perfect Little Monsters, I Hate You, Meat, Fifty Fifty and Stay Up Late, as well as a revised version of the previously-released story The Scream. This book contains scenes of violence, as well as strong language.
Also by Amy Cross