by Martina Cole
She had convinced herself that she had all she needed with the children and Joseph. And now her new father-in-law was in the picture, she felt her life could only get better. Her eyes shone with the thought of the luxury holidays she could go on, and the expensive cars she was convinced she would be driving. Everything about her was money orientated, but she felt that was natural in a mother. After all, who wouldn’t want the best for their children? She used the children as an excuse for her greed. And, boy, did she covet things! She smiled at the thought.
She wanted the best that life had to offer, and that was why she had set her cap at Joseph O’Loughlin. Even though she knew that her love was no more than tepid at best, she was married to him and her love took the form of ownership. She was the mother of his children, and that gave her leverage, because he adored them. She had observed very early on that, in order to fit in, you needed to be able to emulate emotions. As a young child she could remember trying to understand what was going on around her, understand why people acted as they did. Eventually, she had got with the programme and attempted to fit in.
But the only real emotion she had ever experienced was jealousy; it was a destructive feeling that she had gradually learned to rein in, if not to actually conquer. Even the children’s school friends could arouse the beast within her. It was why she had never really had any friends to speak of; she couldn’t stand to see anyone else getting on, doing better than her. She felt a raging anger at those people: how dare they? Who the fuck did they think they were? No one was better than she was or her children were. It was inconceivable; after all, she did everything that needed to be done to achieve. And she made sure her children did exactly what was needed. It was all she knew.
It amazed her that she had put up with her husband’s infidelity for this long. But she was, above all, out for number one, and there was no way she was going to give him an excuse to leave her for that trollop. That was her biggest fear: being dumped, abandoned by her husband. While she had a wedding ring she was someone – and it was proof that she was normal, that she was wanted – needed, even. She would not give that up without a fight, and fight she would. Christine Murray would find that out, if she pushed it too far. So would Joseph. He would not know what the fuck had hit him. He had no idea about the dark places her mind could go to when she was pushed. Sometimes she shocked herself. In her fantasies, she would take him out without a second’s thought. She would take her own kids out without a second’s thought to punish him if he put a foot wrong – he needed to realise that.
The imagery made her smile to herself, and she cheered up momentarily. She pictured her husband looking at his children’s bodies. Lifeless. Throats cut, or maybe drowned. Though young Joey might put up too much of a fight; he was a big strong lad, and she was very proud of him. He was a handsome boy, and he did so well at school – he was a clever potato, no doubt about that. So tablets, maybe. An overdose with her alongside them? Her husband would never forgive himself, and that is exactly what she wanted. For her Joseph to realise that he had killed them, not her. That his actions – his complete disregard for his marriage and his family – had caused all this upset.
That would be such a great outcome, if her husband didn’t start to get what she was telling him. Idiot that he was, he thought she didn’t know about Christine Murray. But she had been very good, and he would understand that when he was burying them all together, as she would request in her suicide note.
Then Miss Murray would be fucked for the rest of her days where her husband was concerned. Oh, she knew where she lived – Miss Christine Murray – she knew everything about her. She had made a point of finding out everything she could about the competition.
She could never countenance Joseph leaving her; she would bring down the wrath of God on not only him but also that red-headed whore he was bedding if he even showed signs of thinking about it. She felt her hands clawing, and she took deep breaths until she relaxed once more and her heart rate steadied. The darkness was enveloping her now and she sat wrapped in its comfort, her mind a mass of thoughts and ideas. She had to remember she was the mother of his children and that would always give her the upper hand over any whore he kept on the side. But one thing kept coming back to her: he had never been this late before without at least sending her a text or calling her. Tonight felt like a game changer, and that bothered her.
She needed a strategy in place, and that is what she would concentrate on. She had fought to get him and she would fight to keep him. Especially now they had a rich father just waiting for a new family to spoil. She would take Patrick Kelly for every penny she could, and why not? After all, she had what he wanted, and he had what she wanted. As far as she was concerned, it was a match made in heaven.
Chapter Fifty-two
Kate heard Patrick before she saw him. He smashed through the front door, swearing as he tripped over the doormat. She smiled as she realised he was very drunk.
‘Kate? Where are you?’
He was making his way through to the kitchen where she was sitting going through the files that Annie had given her and nursing a glass of Pinot. She pushed all the papers together quickly, knowing how he felt when he saw the pictures of the victims, before he stumbled into the kitchen.
She stood up quickly to help steady him. ‘You’re pissed!’
Patrick laughed heartily, saying, ‘No shit, Sherlock! Nothing gets past you, does it?’
Kate couldn’t help laughing with him. In fairness to Patrick, he was a happy drunk, and he could make her smile.
‘How did the lunch go? I’m assuming by the look of you a good time was had by all?’
Patrick slumped down into a kitchen chair and said loudly, ‘Fucking brilliant, lady. We got a bit squiffy, I suppose, and we talked for a long time. He is a decent bloke, Kate. But I think him and me have a good rapport somehow. It’s like I’ve always known him, you know what I mean?’
Kate nodded but didn’t speak.
‘He reminds me of me. I know that sounds mental, but there’s so much we have in common. After a few wines were imbibed he was very talkative, and I think that Bella might need to watch her Ps and Qs in the future. He confided in me, Kate, really confided.’
Kate could hear the amazement in his voice.
‘It was like he had been waiting for someone to talk to all his life, and he chose me.’ Patrick’s voice was strangled with tears.
Kate felt a sudden rush of compassion for the man she had been with for so many years. She realised that he had been lonely for a child, much lonelier than she had ever understood.
He looked at her with those dark blue eyes that still fascinated her, and he said honestly, ‘I feel so blessed, Kate, it’s like I can finally look to the future again. After Mandy I would think, at times, what’s all this for? But now I have a reason to graft, because I want those kids to have the best that life can offer. Even though my boy ain’t doing too badly, of course. A corporate lawyer, eh? Who would have thought that!’ He began to laugh.
‘I think it’s wonderful, Pat. Especially as you two seem to have a lot in common. I really do understand how important this is to you.’
He got up out of his seat and kissed her, a wet fume-laden kiss, and still she responded as always to him.
‘Let’s go to bed and have a good hard shag, lady!’
She laughed with him; it had been a while since she had heard that particular expression! Deep inside she was really pleased to know how much he still wanted her because recently she’d been worried that he might need her that little bit less now. She knew she had better swallow down these petty feelings of jealousy and sort her head out. Because this young man and his family were there for the duration and she needed to get used to that fact pronto.
As they ran up the stairs like teenagers, giggling and laughing, Kate decided that, if this was the upshot, then his finding his family could only be a good thing.
Later, as Patrick snored, she pulled on her dressing gown and went
back down to the kitchen, where she poured herself a fresh glass of wine and opened up the files that Annie Carr had given her. This case was getting more and more complex, especially as whoever was responsible for these deaths was savvy enough to move about undetected.
He used lots of bleach and made sure that there was nothing to link him to these girls whatsoever. The small amount of DNA they had managed to find was anonymous.
Kate suspected that this one would be solved by accident – as so many cases were, if the police were completely honest. She yawned slightly, lit a cigarette and once more pored over the witness statements. It occurred to her that Annie Carr was probably doing exactly the same thing.
Chapter Fifty-three
Christine Murray looked down at the sleeping man beside her and felt the sting of tears. Was it the drink talking? He had been very drunk when he had arrived at her home. He’d told her he loved her and that, no matter what he’d said before, he was going to leave his wife, because he couldn’t live without her. He had sounded so genuine, but she was afraid to get her hopes up as she knew that he adored his children and she was under no illusions that Bella would use them to keep him in any way she could.
Joseph didn’t say much about his wife. But reading between the lines, he was clearly deeply unhappy in his marriage. He had to be – otherwise they would not be having an affair in the first place. He was quite staid in his own way and he had believed in the sanctity of marriage. Nevertheless they had carried on with this liaison, and now it was everything to her. Hearing his words tonight had really made her happy, even if it was only the drink talking. She truly believed that he loved her. She gently shook him awake, and he opened his eyes blearily, unsure exactly where he was.
She saw him look at the bedside clock, and then he groaned, ‘Oh fuck! Bella will have my balls on a plate!’ Then he leapt out of the bed and started to get dressed as quickly as possible.
Christine sat up in the bed and watched him.
Bending over and kissing her deeply on the lips, Joseph said quietly, ‘I’m sorry, darling, but I have to go. I’ll ring you tomorrow.’
She smiled sadly and watched as he crept from her bedroom, but she didn’t let the tears flow until she heard his car start up and pull away. She knew then that it really had been the drink talking – nothing more. Her secret hope, though, was that his new-found father might give him a different take on the world. Patrick Kelly was well known in Grantley, and his reputation always preceded him.
She put Amy Winehouse on her iPhone and, lying back against the pillows, she wondered what her life would be if Joseph finally put his money where his mouth was. She just had to hold on to his love for her. Because it was all she had left to believe in.
Chapter Fifty-four
Jennifer and Claire Andrews were more amazed than their parents were when Annie Carr and DC Karim turned up at their council house at eight in the morning. No one was expecting them, and that is exactly what Annie depended on. Peter Andrews was so angry he looked fit to explode. His wife, Wendy, on the other hand, looked terrified, and Annie Carr concentrated on her as they walked into the council house. They didn’t have enough for a warrant, so they were relying on a combination of shock tactics – and self-preservation. It never ceased to amaze her how cowardly bullies were once confronted. And she knew within three minutes that Peter Andrews was a bully of Olympian standards. Taken unawares, he was off his game, though, and that worked in her favour.
‘You got a fucking warrant to come in my house?’
Annie looked at him innocently, before saying, ‘Why – do we need one?’
Peter Andrews looked thrown for a few seconds, before bellowing at his wife, ‘What the fuck did you let them in for?’
Wendy Andrews just stood there in her nightdress, her lips trembling with obvious fear.
Annie held her hand up and said loudly, ‘We are here about the murders of two of your daughters’ former school friends. It’s a routine enquiry. Now, climb down off your high horse.’
Peter Andrews seemed to suddenly deflate, and Annie saw him for the jumped-up little bully he was. He wasn’t a big man, nor was he particularly muscular, but what gave him the edge was the rage that seemed to be boiling inside him.
‘Why don’t you go and put some trousers on while my colleague and I have a chat with your daughters, Mr Andrews?’
He hesitated for a few moments, before bellowing, ‘Make some tea, Wendy.’ When he left the small sitting room, it was as if the air had suddenly thinned.
Wendy Andrews, a short heavyset woman, smiled tremulously, before saying quietly, ‘Can I get you two a tea or a coffee?’ Now she had permission to talk, she looked less frightened.
‘That would be lovely.’ Annie smiled at her and then turned to the two girls.
The sisters were sitting on the sofa with terrified expressions on their faces. Annie and DC Karim sat on two small dining-room chairs.
Annie fiddled with her notebook, making a big show of getting it out of her bag, and she looked down on her notes for a few seconds before saying gravely, ‘We heard about the pictures. I’m assuming that’s all over with now?’
Both girls dropped their eyes to concentrate on their hands that were clasped in front of them on their laps. Without their make-up and hair done they looked very young and very innocent. Jennifer, the older girl, was already well developed, and Annie could imagine what she would look like dressed up to the nines. The younger girl was clearly her sister, but in a watered-down way. She would never have the older girl’s beauty, and beautiful Jennifer undoubtedly was. But then all teenagers were – it was the skin, she supposed, still so tight and crease free.
The room was shabby and the furniture had seen better days, and there was an underlying smell of cannabis that was sickening in its sweetness. The girls were both in pyjamas that had been washed until they were no more than faded rags. It depressed Annie, the way some children had to live, and the way some women allowed themselves to be intimidated to the point of no return. She had discovered that the police had been called on more than one occasion to these premises because of domestic abuse.
Sighing heavily, she said kindly, ‘So, girls, when was the last time you saw either Kylie or Destiny?’
Jennifer shrugged, and Annie guessed she was the mouthpiece for the pair of them.
‘Was it recently?’ DC Karim’s voice was gentle.
The younger girl looked at him, as if just realising he was there. They were both nervous, and that was to be expected, but Annie and Ali were both certain there was an underlying reason. And both guessed it was to do with the man whose voice was now shrieking out of the kitchen as he berated his wife. He came into the room and, as small as he was, he seemed to fill the space up.
He looked fit to burst as he shouted at the girls. ‘You’d better not have been up to any fucking tricks again. Because I warn you, I’ll take you apart this time!’ He looked at the two police officers, then continued shouting, ‘The fucking shame these two caused, sending bloody naked texts to strange men!’
The girls slumped further into the sofa, as if willing it to swallow them whole.
Annie stood up and said reasonably, ‘We are not here about that. As I told you before, we are investigating the murders of Kylie Barlow and Destiny Wallace.’
‘Like I told my wife, whoever did that was probably one of the perverts these two were involved with. If I get my fucking hands on them, they won’t be fishing for young girls any more. I’d rip their fucking cocks off—’
DC Karim stood up and, taking the man’s arm gently, he said, ‘I agree with you, sir. Now let my colleague talk to the girls in here and you can fill me in on what you know out in the kitchen, OK?’
The man hesitated, as if battling with himself, before saying angrily, ‘They aren’t allowed phones any more, and no computer access either. I made sure of that much anyway!’
He went from the room, and Annie shut the door behind him. Then, resuming her seat, she s
aid seriously, ‘So, with no phones or computers, how do you access Facebook et cetera, girls? Only I saw you both left messages on Kylie and Destiny’s memorial pages.’
It was a shot in the dark, and it worked.
Jennifer Andrews looked at her, saying desperately, ‘He can’t know, he can’t know. He will kill us!’
Annie smiled at the two girls reassuringly, saying, ‘He won’t hear it from me, I promise, but I need to know.’
Jennifer looked at her younger sister and said honestly, ‘Cybercafé in town, the one by the precinct.’
‘Who were the men you were messaging? Did you ever meet up with them in real life?’
Jennifer took a deep breath before answering, ‘It wasn’t as bad as it sounds. We sent a few pics in our underwear, that was all – nothing like what my dad’s making out. The men were from a dating site we went on. It was just a bit of fun that got out of hand.’
Annie looked at these two children, because that is exactly what they were, and wondered what was happening to the next generation. ‘How about you, Claire, are you still doing it?’
The girl shook her head slowly, and Annie Carr saw just how young she was.
‘You do realise that those pics, as you call them, are there for ever now? Once you post something like that to other people, they have that image for ever. Probably shared it with their friends. Were any of the men local?’
They both shrugged. ‘We don’t know, but we weren’t the only ones doing it. We were just the ones who got caught.’
Annie frowned. ‘Were Kylie or Destiny doing it?’
Claire laughed nervously. ‘Not the goody-two-shoes bitches, they were the ones who grassed us up, even though they were doing way more than us.’ It was said with bitterness.