by Lisa Hartley
‘It’s certain. Hughes says they’ve even got the clothes they wore while they did it hidden away. There’ll be CCTV footage of them buying the petrol, fingerprints on the camera. They admitted it to me before you arrived. I don’t think they were lying.’
‘If Hughes had threatened them though …’
‘It was them, Catherine.’
‘But why did they kill him?’ Catherine shivered, pulling her hands up inside the sleeves of her coat.
‘Paul Hughes and a sister of Latas were mentioned. I don’t know the details, but I’m sure Shea will find out.’
‘I don’t like it.’
‘Neither do I, but what can we do? They killed Hughes and now they’ve been arrested. Case closed.’
‘But what did Malc Hughes do to find them? What if it all comes back to bite us in the arse?’
‘It won’t do. It can’t. Hughes told me tonight that he’s retiring.’
Catherine snorted. ‘Really? Got a pension, has he? Does a person like Malc Hughes ever retire?’
‘When his son is tortured and murdered and he’s no doubt made more money than you or I could ever dream of, why not? Anyway, you weren’t there tonight, and you don’t know anything.’
She gazed at him.
‘So I’ll have to trust you.’
‘Hughes wanted a witness. I’m sorry.’
‘And it had to be me.’
He shuffled his feet.
‘I trust you too, Catherine.’
Sleet gathered in her eyebrows and she wiped a hand across her face. ‘Maybe we’re as daft as each other then. Come on, let’s go. I’m freezing.’
She turned away and ran towards her own car. As Knight watched her go, a feeling he couldn’t define tightened his throat. He got into his car and started the engine before it could choke him.
Regret.
53
Catherine lay back in the bath, closed her eyes and let the warmth of the water seep through her. Thomas was out, she hoped with Anna. They both deserved some happiness. She moved her toes in the water, remembering shared baths, long lazy Sundays, picnics, holidays. She wanted to have that again, the security of knowing that someone was there. She could never have had it with Claire, she knew that. She didn’t want it with Louise, and Ellie was a friend. There would be no romance there.
It had been a long, difficult day, and she still wasn’t sure how she felt about what had happened. Knight was right, of course: If the two men had killed Paul Hughes they deserved to be brought to justice. She was worried though, caught up in a situation in which she wanted no part. If it had been left to her, she would never have become involved. Had those men really killed him? And even if they had, why would Malc Hughes hand them over to the police? Hughes was a career criminal. Knight had said before that no crime was beyond him, so why hadn’t Hughes meted out some justice of his own? Catherine didn’t like it, feeling very uncomfortable about her own role, however unaware she had been. Knight had said Hughes was retiring, but the idea seemed ridiculous. Then again, had Knight been planning this? Had he been working with Malc Hughes somehow? Knight had said there was evidence, and surely the men themselves would speak up if they were innocent, whatever Hughes had threatened them with. Could she trust him? Shea’s words floated back into her head: I don’t think you know Jonathan Knight at all.
She ran the hot tap again, wishing she could sleep in here, the water soothing her as she worried. Knight had said there would be no repercussions, but how could he know that? She was furious with him, angry that she had been dragged into a situation that she didn’t understand and had no control over. She had worked hard, always done the right thing, followed the rules and played fair. She felt deceived, caught out and humiliated, and the worst of it was that none of this was her fault.
She hesitated, then climbed out of the bath, wrapped a towel around herself and padded into her bedroom. Picking up her phone, she selected his name.
‘Catherine? Are you okay?’ Knight’s voice was tinny, as if he was far away.
‘What did Malc Hughes whisper to you?’ she demanded.
Knight hesitated for a couple of seconds. ‘He said, “You can get that tattoo removed now.”’
Catherine swallowed. ‘And what did he mean?’
‘I think he meant that we’re even.’
‘What did you do with the evidence bags?’
‘Forget about it.’
She ended the call without saying goodbye, went back to the bathroom and immersed herself in the bubbles again.
Later still, as she climbed into bed, her phone beeped. A text: Ron Woffenden arrested tonight. Ten girls rescued, in hands of social services. Will keep in touch. Owen.Catherine set the phone on the bedside cabinet, tears welling in her eyes. The girls would be deported, back to whatever lives they had been trying to escape before. It wasn’t a comforting thought. She turned over, hugged the spare pillow close and hoped for sleep.
54
The beer frothed as it escaped from the bottle and cascaded onto the worktop. Knight grabbed a cloth and soaked up the mess. Taking his drink through to the living room, he settled onto his battered brown leather settee and tried to relax. With the tang of Malc Hughes’ aftershave still polluting the air, it wasn’t easy.
He set his drink down on the floor and crossed to the log burner. It was late to set a fire, but it was necessary tonight. As the flames took hold, he sat back down and sipped his beer. His eyes were heavy, closing. He might just be able to sleep, if he could put the expression on Catherine’s face and the tone of her voice out of his mind.
The flames were dying down when he woke again. He sat up, rubbed his aching neck then crossed to the log burner and opened the door. From his pocket he removed two photographs. He gave them one last glance before feeding them to the flames.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Once again, my agent Britt Pflüger of Hardy & Knox (hardyandknox.com) has been an invaluable source of advice and encouragement. Her professionalism is second to none and the book would be much poorer without her input and editing expertise. She also helped me with the book’s description, a task I was really struggling with. Thank you Britt.
Thank you to my wife Tracy who has always believed in my work and given me so much support and encouragement. Thank you also to my son, Mum, Grandma, Paul and the rest of my family for their constant support.
My friends have again provided lots of encouragement and advice. Thank you all. Special thanks also to Kerry Eccles who read an early draft of the book and kindly provided some very useful feedback.
My thanks to Christa Holland of Paper and Sage Design (paperandsage.com) for another great cover.
Finally, last but not least, a huge thank you to everyone who bought and read On Laughton Moor. Special thanks to those people who took the time to contact me about it. It means a huge amount to receive an email from someone who has enjoyed your work and for me is a dream come true.
My website is lisahartley.co.uk and you can follow me on Twitter: @rainedonparade
Thank you for reading Double Dealing. Catherine Bishop and her colleagues will return soon.