Little Doubt

by Little Doubt (epub)

  ‘How do you know they’re genuine?’

  ‘I can tell. They’re also full of useful information, once they’ve had a good feed and some love and attention. They feel safe.’

  ‘How do you make them feel safe? The Cotton brothers could be anywhere, taking notes on who’s betraying them.’

  ‘There’s too many of us now. No one can get through us. Not even them. Today, somebody is gonna walk in here and tell me where they are. I can feel it in my waters. Today is the day.’

  Thomas looked at her. Her capacity to hope was extraordinary. All he’d been thinking about was revenge. Smothered in anger and hate, he’d allowed himself to sink to the level of Ella’s killers. Jordan had watched him, and might even be carrying out his plans now because of how he’d reacted. This woman was creating something good out of something despicable and showing everybody else the way forward, without a note of self-pity or resentment.

  He knew that for the time being, all he wanted to do was stay here, in this place, helping in any way he could.

  That, and find his son.

  Chapter 40

  Kelly arrived at Eden House early. DS Will Phillips was waiting for her. She’d called him last night telling him that she wanted him in the office first thing to clear a few things up. Half of her expected him to go AWOL. But there he was. Emma Hide was at her desk and Kelly greeted them both. Later, she’d take Rob to the Beacon Estate, where they’d get an update from Sharon Bradley and follow up the addresses supplied by Jackson and Tyrone. She’d charged neither with an offence. Before she made any bold moves, she had to find out what Ormond was up to, and why he was so keen for Tyrone to be arrested.

  As far as she could work out, from talking to both men and asking crucial questions that only the killers would know, neither Jackson Akers nor Tyrone Fenton was the perpetrator of either killing. The injuries on Tyrone’s hand were defensive rather than the result of frenzied stabbing with a slippery blade. Ted had reported evidence of recent sexual activity from Keira’s body, but nothing to suggest that it wasn’t mutual and consensual. Plus, the clothes at the lab didn’t match what Tyrone and Jackson were wearing on the CCTV. Both men, when shown the footage, told exactly the same story about the events of that morning, and despite Kelly playing a few tried-and-tested tricks used on multiple suspects giving evidence about the same event, she hadn’t been able to trip them up. The chances of two liars passing that type of test were virtually zero.

  Plus, Kelly couldn’t ignore the fact that Tyrone Fenton looked truly traumatised and sorrowful over what he’d seen happen to his girlfriend; according to Jackson, he’d been high ever since to numb the pain. She watched both men carefully; she’d been on plenty of body language conferences to spot the basic signs of deceit and earnestness. She believed them. But she had to prove it, and she couldn’t help thinking that Jackson was holding something back.

  Will followed her to her office and she closed the door. He remained standing.

  ‘I’ve got something to show you.’

  He came around her desk and she tapped a few buttons and brought up the CCTV from B&Q. She let him watch it. He didn’t speak, but walked back around the desk.

  ‘I’m all ears, Will.’

  ‘He’s an informant.’

  ‘No shit, Sherlock. Since when?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Bullshit. What have you had out of him?’

  ‘You know I can’t share that information, guv. It’s intel. He’s Liam’s, I just go along to provide muscle occasionally.’

  ‘And when his name came up as part of our inquiry, you choose not to tell me because…’

  ‘Same reason. Informants are confidential.’

  ‘So, you and Liam conducted your own interview with him and failed to tell me, even though I’m the SIO on this case and he’s a suspect.’

  ‘It was a direct order, ma’am.’

  ‘From?’

  ‘Classified.’

  ‘What? Who the hell are you working for, Will? Because from where I’m sitting, it sure as hell isn’t me.’

  Will put his hands on top of his head and let out a gasp. He closed his eyes and sat down in the chair opposite Kelly.

  ‘Will, what’s going on?’

  ‘I can’t… I just can’t.’

  ‘Can’t what?’

  ‘Before you came here, there were things going on that no one knew about. I don’t work in this department. I was brought in when you were, but I work elsewhere.’

  ‘But you’ve worked for me for three years!’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  Kelly didn’t know what to say. Of every scenario she’d run through her head, this was the last one she’d expected. ‘You work for Ormond?’

  He didn’t answer.

  ‘Will, what the hell is he up to?’

  ‘I’m being removed from this role. I leave today. I’m going somewhere else.’

  ‘On whose authority?’ She didn’t need an answer. ‘Why now? This is all linked to the murders, isn’t it? It’s too neat and tidy. Frame a dodgy lad from the estate and move on. Is that why you and Liam went to see Jackson Akers? To discuss with your informant who to set up? But why would Ormond want an innocent to take the rap? That’s what bugging me, Will.’

  ‘I’m sorry, boss, I can’t answer any of those questions.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I haven’t been told.’ He got up to leave.

  ‘What’s he got on you?’

  Will stopped.

  ‘I know you were once a good-for-nothing, weren’t you? You and your best mate up to your eyes in trouble. Ormond rehabilitated you; he gave you jobs and saved you from the shit pile.’

  Will turned round. His face was screwed with pain, and tears flowed down his face.

  Kelly went to him and shook him. ‘Jesus, Will! Tell me!’

  He pushed her away and left the office.

  She stood there for a full minute, not knowing what to make of what she’d seen and heard. Rob and Emma came in.

  ‘Guv, you OK? What happened with Will?’

  Kelly sat down, exhausted, frustrated and uncertain.

  ‘I have no idea.’

  She stared at her computer and tapped a few keys, finding the phone extension for Liam Brook. She was informed that the officer she sought was off duty until Monday. She told them it was urgent and asked for his address.

  She told Rob to get ready for their visit to the Beacon Estate.

  ‘Emma, any luck on that depot?’

  ‘I was going to update you. They have no record of the goods entering the depot but the release form was signed by Ormond.’

  ‘My God, we’ve got him. We have evidence of the contraband leaving one location and arriving at another, but no record of when it gets there. Come on, Rob. Emma, call me if the lab comes up with anything.’

  Chapter 41

  Johnny had called Kelly from Penrith to say they’d arrived. He told her that food stalls had been set up at the barricades, and various other vendors and charities were in evidence. Kelly was impressed and keen to see it for herself. Apart from thrusting Keira’s case to the forefront of the news, Sharon had also brought the local community together. It was something that made Kelly feel very small. Such simple acts of bravery and commitment were doing more for the Beacon Estate than Ormond ever had.

  She couldn’t get Will’s face out of her head. Whatever Ormond had on him was a bombshell.

  She and Rob listened to the radio. It was announced that thousands of people were expected to turn up to Potton Park today to listen to speeches and join a parade to encourage people to come forward with information on the deaths of Ella Watson and Keira Bradley.

  ‘A march for justice has been announced and the crowd will walk peacefully to police headquarters, just outside Penrith. The organisers have assured the press that the action is not designed to aggravate or blame the police. Sharon Bradley, mother of murdered woman Keira Bradley, told us that
she simply wants their voices to be heard. The husband of Ella Watson, who was stabbed in Potton Park, where the demonstration will begin, is marching alongside Sharon, with his daughter.’

  ‘Bloody hell!’ Kelly said.

  As they neared the park, only a short drive away from Eden House, it became clear that they’d have to dump the car and walk. She flashed her badge at police controlling traffic, and they were directed to a car park that had been emptied for use by squad cars. Kelly looked around her at the huge scale of the operation and felt uneasy. She knew that Johnny would be feeling it too: he’d seen his fair share of crowds turning nasty in the blink of an eye. They were dealing with incendiary emotions, suspects on the run, gang-related crime, and possibly thousands of people. Events like this one always attracted people who loved to stir up trouble, and it didn’t take much.

  From the car park, it wasn’t far on foot to Potton Park, and from there to the Beacon Estate. The streets of Penrith were full of shoppers, normal for a Saturday, and tourists. What wasn’t normal was the sound coming across Potton Park from the Beacon Estate. It was like approaching a festival. The joined groups of people heading there and the atmosphere was upbeat. Music played, entertainers did tricks at the side of the road, and burger and candyfloss vans had appeared, making the most of the business opportunity. Kelly and Rob blended in, with their casual Saturday clothes.

  They heard a loudhailer.

  ‘I wonder how Thomas Watson got involved, and if Ormond knows what his pal is up to,’ she said as they walked.

  ‘I thought they were golf mates?’ Johnny asked.

  ‘I know. It doesn’t make sense. Unless he wants to get closer to those responsible: like Tyrone’s mates. I wonder what he’s planning.’

  ‘He could just be here because it’s a way to get involved in fighting knife crime.’

  ‘It’s odd, though. And to allow his daughter down here.’

  ‘We need to find them; they’ll be with Sharon.’

  They neared the track that took them from Potton Park to the estate. It was quieter here, because most people were gathering in the park for the march. They made their way to the barricades and were amazed by what they saw.

  Lorries and delivery trucks had been allowed access, food stalls had been set up by local retailers, and portable toilets were in place. Several major news channels had erected rainproof shelters, and Sharon sat under one, at a table, giving an interview. Beside her sat Thomas Watson and his daughter, Millie.

  Kelly and Rob approached. Sharon waved at them. The interviewer turned around and Kelly asked if they were live. They weren’t. The piece was yet to be edited and approved. Reports cobbled together from whatever they had gathered here would be reviewed in one of the huge vans, and the final piece would make the lunchtime news.

  ‘Detective,’ Sharon said. Thomas glanced at Kelly; he looked uncomfortable.

  ‘Mr Watson. Millie. I’m surprised to see you down here, but pleased, too. I gather you’ve been making friends.’

  ‘Dad didn’t want to be here. He followed me. I ran away. Jordan is missing. Dad saw him on TV.’ Millie didn’t mince her words, and Thomas shrugged, as if to reiterate all of the above. He didn’t look as though he’d had any sleep.

  ‘What do you mean, Jordan is missing?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘He’s here somewhere. I saw him on TV last night, he was here and I know he’s still here.’

  ‘But you haven’t found him?’

  Thomas shook his head.

  ‘Dad, he’ll be fine, he’s doing the same as me.’ Millie turned to Kelly. ‘I told Dad that to find out what happened to Mum, we need to do what Sharon’s doing for Keira: shouting as loud as we can. We’ve made new banners and everyone knows that we want justice for Keira and Mum.’ Kelly looked around and noticed banners with Keira and Ella’s names on. It touched her.

  ‘Seems to me like a few ordinary people from a council estate are doing more than you lot,’ Sharon said. The journalist stuck his microphone in Kelly’s face.

  ‘The investigation is ongoing. These things take time, Sharon, you know that, especially when there are dozens of youths unwilling to help us.’

  ‘Exactly. And do you know why? Because you’re fucking useless. You need to take these lads in hand; they think they own the fucking place. This man here has offered two hundred thousand pounds and not one person has come forward with anything useful. It’s shameful. You need to be finding those Cotton boys.’

  ‘Actually, that’s not true. We have had information, just anonymously.’

  The journalist smiled. It was good TV: a bereaved mother giving a copper a toasting with colourful expletives. They’d have to run it past legal first, though, because the police could easily block it.

  ‘How do we get to those lads if no one will tell us where they are?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘Raid ’em. Open every friggin’ door until you find ’em.’

  Millie nodded furiously behind Sharon.

  ‘Head office tried that on Thursday and look what happened. Besides, we’re already trying to find the Cotton brothers.’

  ‘Not hard enough.’

  Kelly knew why, but she wasn’t about to explain to Sharon and Thomas that the man blocking the process and derailing the whole inquiry was her boss.

  ‘You don’t think Tyrone did it either, do you? You need to look at your own. No one trusts you.’

  ‘Where did you hear that?’ Kelly caught her breath.

  Sharon hollered. Kelly winced. A woman came over and Sharon introduced her. She was the mother of a young teenager who’d got involved with the local gang scene. He was scared; he wanted out but didn’t know how. He’d been hiding at his auntie’s.

  ‘I told her to go and see the solicitor Keira was talking to, but the lad’s too scared. Everyone is.’

  ‘Keira was talking to a solicitor?’

  ‘Yeah, someone fancy in Manchester. She got the train there.’

  ‘What about?’

  ‘How would I know? All the letter said was that it was no win no fee or something, and she could get a lot of money. I rang them but they wouldn’t talk to me: data protection.’

  ‘Do you have the letter?’

  Sharon took a piece of paper out of her jeans and unfolded it. Kelly scanned it, then looked at the woman who’d just arrived.

  ‘Do you think your son would talk to me?’

  ‘No.’

  She turned to Sharon.

  ‘Sharon, what you’re doing here is incredible. You’ve got people on the streets, caring for something, fighting for something, and that’s amazing. I want to know how you’ve done it. I want to meet the people helping you. Will you show me what’s being done? Who organised the march? What do you intend to do when you get to constabulary HQ?’

  ‘Oh, here we go,’ Sharon said. ‘This is why she’s here. She’s been sent by the establishment to put us off.’

  ‘No, you’re wrong. I’m on your side.’

  ‘So you’re a do-gooder now?’

  ‘I hope that’s what I’ve always been.’

  Sharon looked around the tent. Thomas stared at her, exhausted. Millie nodded. A few volunteers shrugged and the journo waited.

  ‘OK then. Let’s go.’

  ‘I’ll be running a piece on this along the lines of “Local detective reaches out to community”,’ said the journalist eagerly. ‘Can I follow you guys? It’s an exclusive.’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Kelly needed all the cover she could get in case Ormond made a move. If she became the face of the investigation on national TV, it would be very difficult to get rid of her. The journo looked as though he’d won the lottery.

  As the small group left, following Sharon’s lead, Kelly waited for Thomas. ‘Do you want to file a missing person report for Jordan?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. He’s here. I’m just worried about what his intentions might be.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘My son is a quiet boy, but d
on’t let that fool you. I’ve been watching him closely since Ella died, and he’s been boiling and simmering deep inside. He’s not here to join some community thrust to get justice for his mother.’

  They stopped and faced each other.

  ‘He’s here for revenge.’ Kelly said it for him, and he nodded. ‘Right. I hear you. He’s running his own investigation.’

  ‘There are several knives missing from the kitchen block.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Kelly said. ‘You think he’s trying to embed himself?’

  Thomas nodded and rubbed his eyes; they were red and watery.

  ‘You’re exhausted.’

  ‘There’s no way I’m leaving the kids. Ella would kill me. I’ll stay for as long as it takes.’

  ‘Does Superintendent Ormond know you’re here? I hear you and he are golfing pals.’

  ‘And you think that’s why he’s hell-bent on locking up some poor sod who didn’t do it?’

  ‘You read people well.’

  ‘As do you, Detective. Neil was at my house last night when he called you. I thought the way he spoke to you was disgusting. We know each other casually from the golf club; we’re not friends.’

  Sharon was up ahead, greeting people and checking on how everyone was holding up. It was an incredible sight. She commanded great respect everywhere she went, and groups of people stopped what they were doing and listened to her. This woman who just last week had been virtually housebound was now mobilising a whole community, as well as wider afield, into waking up to the tragedy that was befalling today’s youth. It wasn’t an exaggeration to say that Sharon Bradley was spearheading something with the potential to bring about real change, and she’d achieved it in less than three days. The hairs stood up on Kelly’s arms. She guessed this was how all revolutions began: with a simple message. She hoped fervently that this one succeeded and didn’t fizzle out like so many sentiments on TV.

  Sharon had stopped and was talking to a man in a suit. She introduced him as a criminologist. The calibre of the visitors attracted by the demonstrations was astounding. Next to him was a woman from a charity representing convicted youths between the ages of fifteen and eighteen: all the teenagers on her files were boys, and all their crimes were gang-related.