Luke Adams Boxset 1

by Dawson, H A

  Her eyes drifted, searching for answers. Staring at the grassy bank, the vision of the lovers clarified in her mind. Saskia was the female. Who was the man?

  She turned her head, catching Larry's gaze, and froze in fear.

  'You brought Saskia here.'

  He smirked. 'It's taken a while for you to realise. Now you can tell me about the paintings.'

  'I don't know anything about any paintings.'

  He grabbed her wrist and squeezed. 'I think you do.'

  Chapter 29

  'It's strange that she's not answering her phone,' Luke said, turning onto Rochester Street.

  Imogen placed her phone into her handbag and put her bag on the floor 'Maybe she's switched it off for some reason, or has it charging.'

  'Maybe.'

  He slowed down to allow a car to reverse into a tight spot near Megan's house, and then drove a little way along the street and parked in a larger gap. They climbed out and headed towards the house. Ben was standing on the pavement, scrutinising a vehicle. He turned and smiled.

  'Hi you two. Like my new car?'

  Luke nodded

  ‘It’s nice to get something for nothing for a change.’ He stepped towards the house. ‘Are you after Megan?'

  'Yes. We just thought we'd pop in for a chat. I hope she's not busy, she's not answering her phone.'

  They stepped inside and Ben called out her name. Even David didn’t know where she was and appeared to Luke to be unforthcoming. Undeterred, and agreeing with Ben that she may arrive home within the next half an hour, they accepted his offer of a drink and progressed into the lounge.

  As they waited for the kettle to boil, they chatted about the car - the reason for choosing that particular model, the choice of colours, and the engine size. Luke was not a car fanatic but he was able to feign interest. Imogen, though, seemed distracted.

  At first, her eyes seemed to glaze, but then her expression changed to one of concern. She seemed to be trying to catch his attention, but since he was otherwise engaged in conversation, he had to ignore her.

  Eventually, when Ben left the room to get the drinks, she pointed to Megan’s handbag. 'Something has happened.'

  He was about to ask her for her reasoning when Ben appeared with the drinks.

  'I assume that’s Megan's bag?' she asked.

  He said it was.

  'Does she often go out without it?'

  'No, I don't think she does.'

  'Would you mind looking to see if her house keys or purse are with her?'

  He reached down to the bag and poked around. 'They're here.'

  'What about her phone?'

  'She must have it with her.'

  Imogen reached for her phone and dialled her number. A sound played. It came from the table.

  He dashed across and picked it up, his face creasing with concern.

  Luke frowned. He could understand Megan leaving without her purse, but not her house keys or phone. She must have left in a hurry.

  'I keep telling her not to go out alone,' Ben moaned.

  'Let's not panic,’ he said. ‘She might have just taken a walk.'

  'She does go running occasionally.'

  'There you are then.'

  He was going to let it rest, but Imogen had a frantic look in her eyes and his gut churned. She didn't believe she was safe, and if he were honest, neither did he. He reached for his coffee, took a sip of the hot liquid to calm his nerves, and watched Ben transfer his weight between his feet.

  'She never goes out without her phone,' he said.

  His voice was weak, it seemed as though he was speaking more to himself than anyone else, and slipped the phone into her bag, strode into the hallway and called out to his son. There was no response, forcing him to try again, more assertively this time. When David still did not answer, Ben rushed from the room and pounded the staircase

  Luke passed Imogen a worried glance.

  'Where is she?' Ben asked.

  The answer was faint.

  'What have you done to her?'

  David's voice was inaudible.

  'If you've touched her . . .'

  Footsteps stomped across the floor and a door slammed.

  There was a thumping sound. Ben cursed and then shouted at David, willing him to appear and to take responsibility for his actions.

  Luke tensed, and wondered if they should leave. Whatever was occurring was a private matter. It might explain her disappearance, but it would not affect the case.

  He turned to Imogen. ‘I think we should leave.’

  She was about to reply when her gaze shifted to the door and to Ben’s entrance. He was clearly upset, as his face was pinched and heated with anger.

  'She's gone out with Larry,’ he said. ‘We don't need to worry.'

  Whilst it was plausible, it didn’t explain why she’d left without her bag, and his concerns remained. Was she even safe with Larry, and if so, where had they gone? Seeking reassurance, he glanced at Imogen

  'Could we just ask you one favour before we go?' she asked Ben. ‘Could you check her phone messages to see if there’s any indication of where she's gone?'

  'She's not in any trouble.'

  'Maybe not, but it won't do any harm checking. We could take her bag and phone to her.'

  Complying with her request, he reached for her phone and scanned her messages. For a while, he held a pensive expression, then anger exploded on his face and his body tightened. He bit his lip and his eyes bulged then he stared through the open doorway and up the stairs. He was holding back another flurry of angry words, and his son seemed to be the target.

  Waiting in an uncomfortable silence, Luke passed Imogen a quick glance. When he noticed that she seemed equally concerned, he made another suggestion to leave.

  Ben did not reply, but charged from the room and stomped up the stairs. Seconds later, he confronted his son.

  'Did you take this?' he roared. 'You're no son of mine, a disgrace. What in God’s name are you playing at?'

  He continued his outburst, speaking quick and often, and not giving David a chance to reply.

  Embarrassed, Luke tried not to listen, but it was difficult to ignore the continuous hollering, so he turned to Imogen and announced his desire to slip away.

  ‘No way,’ she hissed. ‘I want to hear this.’

  He passed her a disagreeing stare.

  'And I'm worried for Megan.'

  'Ben said she's not in trouble. She’s with Larry.’

  'I have a bad feeling. She said in one of the regression sessions that Saskia fancied someone. I think it was Larry.'

  'Larry?'

  'Yes. That would explain why Megan felt comfortable with him.' She pressed her hand to her stomach. 'Can’t we wait until Ben returns? There might be something in the messages to indicate where he took her.'

  Unwilling, as the shouting continued, he agreed to her suggestion. Ben was swearing now, and there was still no response from David. Concerned for the younger man, he strained his ears, hoping to hear a comment. If he replied, it was too faint to hear.

  He passed Imogen a quick glance. ‘I’m going to check what’s going on.’

  He crept to the doorway and looked up the staircase. He craned his neck, searching the upper floor for movement, and saw Ben stomp to the bathroom and close the door. Then, in amongst the comforting sound of the road traffic was the gentle creak of footsteps sounding from David's room.

  Breathing easier, Luke waited for Ben to descend the stairs and appear in the room. When he did, he was calmer and more composed; his skin tone had evened out, the redness around his eyes had lessened, and the tips of his fringe were damp.

  'Larry has taken Megan to one of his favourite spots,' Ben said, avoiding eye contact. 'That's all the message says.'

  'It doesn't give us a lot to go on.'

  'I have to find her. Is there anyone you have spoken to who might know where he likes to go?'

  'We haven't found anyone who has had a lot to do wit
h Larry.'

  They sat and stared into a void in the middle of the room.

  'Verity knew him,' Ben said.

  He tilted his head.

  'She told Megan that Larry was bad news. She warned her away a few times.'

  'Did she?'

  'Yes. If she had her reasons, Megan didn't find out what they were, except that he once stalked a woman.'

  Luke glimpsed at Imogen. Her inability to discover that fact was a concerning mistake.

  'I don't think he was convicted of anything,' he continued, 'but it must have been intense. He had pictures of the woman plastered on his walls.'

  'When was this?'

  'Years ago. Megan said that he had told her and that he had regretted what he had done. I don't trust him, but she does and so I had to respect that.'

  'I think we should go see Verity,' Luke said to Imogen, standing up.

  'I'm coming too,' Ben said, 'I'm not losing her a second time.'

  He gave him an enquiring glance.

  The conversation was minimal during the drive to Verity's house. Even though Ben stared pensively out of the side window, maintaining a fixed frown, Luke felt awkward in his presence. Whatever had happened was between father and son, and was none of their business. He grimaced as his own burden surfaced.

  Would he ever have a boy of his own? It would have been a wondrous gift, something to cherish and marvel at, a life created by two people, a loving life. He would have cared for him, played with him, taught him the joys of manhood. He would have been the proud father waiting at the school gates, urging his son to share the day's events. Together, they would have experienced new smells, new sights, and new sounds. He would have clasped the little boy's hand, sensing his elation and forever inscribing it into his heart. Together they would have shared every moment of happiness and distress. Nothing could bring such absolute delight - he glanced into the rearview mirror - and evidently such pain.

  Verity's house came into view. He parked the car, turned off the engine, and turned to Ben.

  'Do you want to stay here?'

  'No way! I have to find Megan. I have to know where she is.'

  'Okay, but let us do the talking. Verity can be difficult.'

  He passed Imogen a quick sideways glance. As always, she seemed unfazed and carried herself with an air of confidence. It was uplifting and reassuring. Smiling inwardly, he clambered out of the car and stepped down the drive. The sound of harmonic voices and a rocky beat of drums drew his attention.

  The doorbell sounded and the music stopped, and a hazy figure, obscured by the frosted glass, stepped towards the door.

  'Hello, Ms Verity Fox?'

  She nodded, scowling.

  'I'm Luke Adams, a private investigator, and this is Imogen Morrison, my assistant. He showed her his card. 'This is Ben, Megan's partner. Can we come in for a chat?'

  'What's this about?'

  'Megan has disappeared and we're worried. She's gone somewhere with Larry Carr.'

  She pressed her lips together and shook her head. 'I've warned her . . . many times. She's as stubborn as that stupid sister of mine was . . . hasn’t listened to a damned word I’ve said, clearly.’

  She swung open the door, causing it to rebound against the wall, and strode to a room on the right. He followed on behind and stepped into the living room. It smelled bad and he had to make a concerted effort to stop his nose from curling. There were grit and fluff on the carpet, damp rags on a plastic sheet near the window, and a jar of reddish liquid and a paintbrush on a piece of timber board. It was a curious smell, a mixture of unwanted scents.

  'I don't know what you expect me to do,' she said. 'I've already done what I can.'

  'What do you know about Larry Carr?'

  'Not a lot.'

  'Is he dangerous?'

  'He used to get in lots of fights . . . had quite a temper.'

  'Who with?'

  'Anyone and everyone. Not so much now, he seems to have mellowed a bit.'

  'Did Saskia know him?'

  She hesitated and looked away.

  Ben spoke: 'We need to find out where he's taken Megan.'

  Luke turned to face him. 'Just hang on a minute,' he said, 'all in good time.'

  'I have to get to her.'

  'And you said she wasn't in danger.'

  Ben dropped his gaze.

  'You sure about that?' Verity asked, glimpsing at Ben. ‘You’re certainly trusting.’

  'What do you know?' Luke asked.

  She flipped off her shoes and raised her feet to a table. 'I don't like him, that's all.'

  'What have you got against him?'

  'Everything. I don't trust the man.'

  Her response sounded rehearsed. She was hiding something; he could almost see it, whatever it was, hovering behind her nonchalant exterior. Then her lips moved, as though she was about to speak, and her eyes searched for courage.

  'You know something,' he said, 'I can tell. Can you risk another loss of life?'

  'I've already told you what I know.'

  'I'm not convinced. You knew Saskia as well as anyone, even during those last few months. You know why she was killed.'

  'No, I don't.'

  'But you do know that she didn't disappear to Spain.'

  'Maybe.'

  ‘So you know the letters were forged?'

  Verity bolted upright. 'Who told you about them?' She paused, her gaze passing between them. ‘Let me guess . . . Megan.’

  'That’s hardly the point. You knew Saskia's handwriting better than everyone else. Did you write them or was it your mother?'

  'They arrived in the post.'

  'And the postmark?'

  'Spain.'

  Luke puffed out. 'Come on Verity. Help me out here. Who sent them?'

  She was silent and maintained a hardened stare.

  'Who are you covering for Ms Fox?'

  She did not reply.

  'We will find out. It's better for you that you tell me now.'

  Ben shuffled to the edge of his seat, ready to spring into action. Luke motioned him back.

  'I think you should go,' Verity said, rising to her feet and striding to the door.

  He held his ground. 'We know what happened to your father, Frank and how you put something into his food.'

  'What! How?'

  'It doesn't matter. If that's why you're worried about speaking out, you needn't be - nothing will happen. The case is closed.'

  She rubbed her upper arm with her hand. 'It . . . it was an accident.'

  'Yes, we know.'

  'I never meant for him to die.'

  'He was ill. He might have died anyway.'

  She shrank back into the armchair. 'Saskia blamed me. She didn't know he was ill. Then there was my mother. She found the powder we'd used and forced the truth from me. She cut us off after that . . . wouldn't speak to either of us. Saskia never forgave me, not properly. Mum kicked me out and I had nowhere to go, so Saskia took me in. But I . . . but I took advantage.' She covered her face with her hand. 'I tried to entice Ron away from her. I couldn't bear seeing the two of them together.' She raised her head and looked towards him. 'I loved him.'

  'I know.'

  'What will happen?'

  'Nothing, as I said, the case is closed.’

  'I've dreaded this getting out. I was so sure I would go to prison. I couldn't face that.'

  'Does anyone else know what you did?’

  'Ron does.'

  'What about Larry?'

  'Maybe.'

  'How does he know?'

  She scrutinised her fingernails.

  'Ms Fox.'

  'I think Saskia may have told him.'

  'Were they having an affair?'

  Verity looked up her expression blank. 'I was furious with her. She had Ron but she didn't love him. I'd have done anything to get him back.' She wiped her hand across her eyes. 'Few people knew about their affair. I just happened to spot them together once.'

  'What happened?'<
br />
  'Nothing. Saskia wasn't speaking to me by then. I . . . I'd done everything I could to cause upset in their marriage, but nothing worked. When I found out about her affair I considered telling Ron, but I decided against it. My main concern was for Saskia. I'd heard rumours that Larry was bad news - violent and manipulative - but she wouldn't listen. She was besotted.'

  'Why didn't you tell Ron?'

  She shook her head. 'I was only thinking about repairing my relationship with her. If I acted, I knew she would think I was stirring. More than anything I wanted my sister back in my life.'

  'Did Ron know?'

  'I don't think so. I'm sure he wouldn't have taken it lying down.'

  'How long did it last?'

  'Until she died. One of them killed her, but I could never prove it. Ron threatened to expose me for what I'd done and forced me to stay quiet. In the end, I was encouraged to show Mum the letters I'd got - even though I knew they weren't from Saskia - just so she would accept the story that she had left.'

  'Didn't she recognise the handwriting?'

  'No. She never paid any attention to what we did at school. She was often drunk.' She harrumphed. 'I don't know who wrote it. I've seen Ron's and Larry's writing, and it's not either of them. They could, of course, have got someone else to write it.'

  He rubbed his fingers across his cheeks.

  'All this is fine,' Ben said, 'but I need to find Megan urgently. Can you help me or not?'

  ‘I don’t know where he would have taken her,’ Verity said.

  'Just try to think,’ Luke said. ‘Please. It's important.'

  'There is one place Saskia liked. It was one of my favourite places too. Ron used to take me.' Her eyes glazed.

  'Go on.'

  'There's some woodland and a clearing. It's quite high up, and there's a fantastic view of town.'

  'Can you write out directions?'

  She said she could and scampered to a drawer in the next room, returning moments later with a sheet of paper and a pencil.

  'Did Ron have a daughter? Luke asked.

  She stopped mid-stride and stared. 'A daughter? No. No way.'

  'Did he ever have any contact with young girls - family members perhaps?'

  'No, never.'

  'Are you certain?'

  ‘Of course. Why do you ask?'