The Hidden Island: an edge of your seat crime thriller

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The Hidden Island: an edge of your seat crime thriller Page 24

by Angela Corner


  Callum shot around the two men, and climbed into the Porsche, but as he passed Beckett, he whispered, “Aphrodite,” and nodded towards the back of the red car.

  “And your daughter, Lily, will make a nice trio.”

  “You won’t be arresting any of us, Inspector.”

  “DI Harper was stabbed earlier this morning.”

  “Sorry to hear that. Fatally?”

  “Too early to say.”

  “I’ll send a card. We do have the greatest doctors on this Island. As you know.”

  “Where is Lily?”

  “You can’t think either of them have anything to do with Harper’s misadventure, surely?” Mitchell scoffed.

  “And the death of Danni Deacon.”

  “You’re wasting your time. Callum doesn’t have the cojones to hurt anyone. Plus, he was with me all morning. Meeting with the architects for the new hotel. Brand new development. The biggest hotel built on the Island for twenty years.”

  “And Lily?”

  “That, I don’t know. You know what girls are like. I expect she’s been out shopping. Spending more of my money. Too much like her mother. As soon as Lily gets in touch, you’ll be the first to know.” Mitchell could have been talking to him about the weather. “But, I can assure you, they both have rock solid alibis.”

  “For when?”

  “Whenever they need one.”

  “Does that apply to you, too? Were you sleeping with Danni Deacon?”

  The smile evaporated from Mitchell’s face.

  “Did you kill her, or was it Lily?”

  Mitchell took a step forward. Beckett could smell his peppermint breath.

  “I know Lily stabbed DI Harper. I was there. I recognised her. The way she ran. And I think Lily killed Danni. Did she think she was she protecting Callum? Or perhaps, she was jealous. Twins. That’s how it works, isn’t it? Incredibly close. More than normal brothers and sisters. Do anything for each other.”

  Mitchell pushed Beckett against the side of the car, the genial businessman gone. When Beckett looked at him, he was the man in Bosnia, standing next to the General, shaking hands on the deal. Cruel. Ruthless.

  “Or perhaps I’m wrong. Perhaps it was you who killed Danni. Like you killed Rosie Payne. You picked them, used them, had sex with them, and then, once you’d gotten bored, you killed them. Or maybe you just hated the fact Danni had moved onto your son.

  Mitchell tilted his head back and roared with laughter. “Really? That’s what you want to throw at me? I thought you were smarter than that. You honestly think you can come after me?”

  “I have a witness who says you were sleeping with Rosie, and the last time she was seen alive was at one of your little parties in the woods.”

  “Lots of people attended my parties. You’d be better looking closer to home. Ask Faulkner what happened to Rosie Payne.”

  “What?”

  “You come after my family, and I will come after yours. It’s a question of what means more to you. Destroying me, or destroying your father.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “How did those old BT adverts go? ‘It’s good to talk.’ We all keep secrets from our pasts. Mistakes we’ve made. Things which can’t be undone. But, if you insist on bringing my past misdemeanours out into the open, then you’d better make sure you know all the facts. Talk to Faulkner. And then, we’ll talk again. When you’re in a more reasonable mood.”

  “You’ll jump in your plane, and disappear.”

  “I’m confident you’ll make the right decision. And this is my home. Why would I go anywhere else?” Mitchell shrugged, and walked to his car. Callum stared out through the windscreen.

  For a fleeting moment, Beckett felt worried for him, but even Mitchell wouldn’t hurt his own children. He watched Mitchell drive away, and could not push his words from his head. Ask Faulkner about what happened to Rosie Payne. It hung there like a raven black storm cloud. He hated to follow Mitchell’s instructions, but had no choice. He had to find out.

  He turned to close the car door, and spotted something glinting in the sunlight on the passenger seat. An iPad, wrapped in a grapevine printed case. Danni’s. And Callum had given him the password. Beckett picked it up, and slipped it into the glove compartment of the Evoque. He had a good idea what he would find on it, but that was for later.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Faulkner was sitting on the terrace, looking out over the sea. It struck Beckett how similar a setting it was to Mitchell Troy, sitting on his terrace, surveying his domain.

  “How’s Harper?” Faulkner asked, as soon as Beckett stepped out of the house. His face was lined with genuine concern.

  “No change.” Beckett wasn’t in the mood for small talk. He’d called the hospital on the drive over. Harper was out of surgery, and on life support. Critical condition. Beckett felt sick, the worry about Harper creating a great pit in his stomach, and the Faulkner-shaped storm cloud pulsating in his head.

  “But, the surgery went well?”

  “They’ve stitched him up.”

  “Have you any idea who did it?”

  “I know exactly who did it. Lily Troy. Callum was sleeping with Danni. I think Lily got jealous, or overprotective. Killed Danni, and then Harper, when he came to talk to Callum.”

  “Jesus. Well there you go. Good. Good that’s excellent news. Then, perhaps, you can forget all this. Take a holiday. Have a normal life.”

  “It’s not that easy though, is it?”

  “No… no… that’s true. You did think there was a connection to Troy from the beginning, but not him. His daughter.”

  “I don’t think he’s innocent in this. He helped dump the body. I may have it wrong. It might have been him who killed Danni. I’d have to prove it, of course. Not sure I can.”

  “Forget the past. Whatever Troy is, or isn’t, best to move on. I expect he’ll have spirited Lily off the Island by now, anyway.”

  Beckett figured he was probably right. Mitchell proudly saying he and Callum wouldn’t be doing a flit, probably because his plane was busy already.

  “You’re right. I was wrong about him having something to do with his wife’s disappearance.”

  “You spoke to Gideon?”

  Beckett nodded. “I spoke to Mitchell, too. Asked him about Rosie Payne.” He watched his Dad’s face for a reaction. There it was. A slight frown, a twitch of the eyebrow. Gone before you’d even imagined it was there. “He said I should ask you.”

  “Ask me what?” Faulkner laughed, but turned away.

  Beckett knew, without any doubt, his father knew something. He felt sick. He’d still hoped Troy was stirring up trouble, playing with him. “What happened to Rosie Payne?”

  “How would I know?” Faulkner picked up a drinks coaster, and started rolling it around on the table.

  “You were at the party. The last time she was seen alive.”

  “I don’t really remember.”

  “Yes, you do. Who were you with?”

  “You don’t want me to tell you this.”

  “What? Why would I not want to know the truth? This has been haunting me for years. For God’s sake, Dad, just tell me what happened.”

  “Yes, I was at that party. Lots of alcohol. I didn’t touch the drugs. I’d given up by that point. Plenty were partaking, though, including Rosie Payne. And, yes, Rosie and Mitchell were together. She’d started out as a friend of Jeanie’s, but when Mitchell clapped eyes on her, that was it. They were happy. His feelings for her were real. Believe it, or believe it not. But, they had a fight at the party. She was talking to another man. Mitchell didn’t like it. She stormed off. Excitement over, but I was knackered, and I needed to get home. I was getting in my car, but I was totally wasted. Ed Hefferman offered to drive. Sebastian Wolf came with us. Not that you ever saw Ed and Sebastian far apart. He was always Ed’s shadow.”

  “They were at the party?”

  “They were doing some business on the Island. It’s not unus
ual. Ed wasn’t a Cabinet Minister, then. Sebastian was organising all sorts of meetings. I think they thought Troy might be useful. Ed had had a few drinks. Not as much as me, but he shouldn’t have been driving, and I shouldn’t have let him. But, you know what it’s like here. People do it all the time. I was in the back. Asleep. I was jolted awake. The car had stopped. Sebastian had got out. He came back. Said we’d hit a deer. It was dead. Nothing to be done. Ed carried on. Dropped me off at home. End of story. But, then, a day later, Rosie was reported missing. Sebastian came to see me, brought the car back. It wasn’t a deer we hit. He’d got rid of the body. Begged me to keep quiet. It was an accident. Nothing we did now would change the fact she was dead. Ed was on the verge of a post in the Cabinet. Tipped to become party leader one day, and then Prime Minister. He was a good man, who could be a great leader. All that talent, all that passion, would be wasted if this came out.”

  “And you agreed?”

  “He’s proved himself, hasn’t he? One of the most popular politicians around. He’s making a difference in the world.”

  “He got pissed, and killed a girl.”

  “It was an accident. It could have happened to anyone. It should have been me driving. The ends justify the means. I thought you’d understand that better than anyone.”

  “If you believed that, you’d have told me years ago.”

  It all made sense. Chrystos finding the body, and then going back, and it was gone.

  “There’s no proof any of this happened. Not without a body. Mitchell can’t prove anything. And even if he could, they – the Government – wouldn’t let him.”

  “And these are the people you call ‘great’?”

  “Country before individual.”

  Beckett knew he was right.

  “We never knew how Mitchell found out. Guessed. Pieced it together, somehow.”

  Spoke to Chrystos, no doubt, Beckett thought, but how did he know it was that particular car which had hit her?

  “So, Mitchell Troy has a hold over a senior British politician?”

  “He has no evidence.”

  “Someone told him what happened. Perhaps there was another witness? He has more than enough to blackmail him. Someone like Troy, he’s not a nothing police officer like me. He could exert massive influence on government policy.”

  “If he was going to do it, he would have done it by now.”

  “How do you know he hasn’t already? How do you know it’s not happening right now, every day, every business deal?”

  Faulkner looked at him, panic creeping into his eyes.

  “And there’s absolutely nothing we can do about it.”

  “If Mitchell is as bad as you say, you’ll get him on something else, won’t you?”

  Beckett laughed. “And if I have something now? Something to connect him to Danni’s death?”

  Faulkner stared back at him. He suddenly looked all of his seventy years, and more.

  “He sent me here with the message. If I come after his family, he’ll come after mine.”

  “Me?”

  “You think? Suddenly, it’ll have been you alone in the car that night. You, the pissed driver, who killed the girl, and then disappeared the body. What did happen to the body?”

  “Sebastian sorted it. He never told me. Or Ed, I don’t think.” Faulkner’s voice was a whisper. The full consequences filling his thoughts.

  “What would you do? Blame Hefferman? Who do you think the authorities would believe? The pissed up, drugged out old rock star, or the Secretary of State, backed up by his faithful advisor with the whole weight of a Government and country behind them?”

  Beckett turned to leave. “If I arrest any of the Troy’s then you’ll get accused of the manslaughter of Rosie Payne, plus the disappearance of the body. You’ll go to prison. For something you didn’t do.”

  “So, what are you going to do?”

  “Nothing. What choice do I have?”

  “I’m sorry, son.”

  He heard Faulkner’s words, as he left.

  Beckett sat at Harper’s beside. The younger man looked like a chameleon, colour changed to match his white surroundings. But, he was alive, and would stay that way.

  Harper’s eyes flickered open.

  “How are you feeling?” Beckett asked.

  “I’ve been better.”

  “You look terrible.”

  “Thanks. You look pretty crappy yourself.”

  “It’s been a bad week. Nice card.” There were a few cards behind his bed already, but one huge one. “From your Dad?”

  “No. From yours. Doubt mine gives a toss.”

  “Mine’s great at the big gestures.”

  “Seems you are, too. You saved my life. They tell me.”

  “I’d have done the same for anyone.”

  “Not quite true.”

  “These days.”

  “I’m grateful, anyway. She got away, though? Lily Troy? Left the country, Tomas told me. But, who helped her with Danni’s body? Callum? Mitchell? When are you going to question them?”

  “Tomas has. They claim they don’t know anything. There’s nothing more we can do.” He avoided Harper’s gaze. He knew he sounded like he’d given up too easily.

  “I guess we’ll never know what really happened. You were right about the connection to Troy, though. You bastard.” Harper coughed, in pain but surprisingly buoyant. Wait until he was Beckett’s age.

  “Righter than I thought. This is Danni’s tablet.” He had the grapevine encased iPad in his hands.

  “How did we not find that?”

  “Callum had it. He passed it to me.”

  Harper looked suspicious. “Passed it to you, but couldn’t help our enquiries? What’s going on Beckett?”

  “Seems Danni came to Farou, with an ulterior motive. To get close to the Troy’s, and report back on the kids.”

  “To who?”

  “She was emailing a woman called Jenny Daniels, formerly known as Jeanie Troy.”

  “The dead Mrs. Troy?”

  “Who staged her own suicide, with a bit of help, to escape from Mitchell, and is safe and well living in Rio, where she met Danni.”

  “Jesus. I take a day off, and all hell lets loose. At least you know Mitchell didn’t kill his wife, but come on. His daughter kills Danni, and he doesn’t know about it. I don’t buy it, do you?”

  Beckett shrugged. “Time I moved on. Time I retired.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Harper grinned, and again winced in pain. “Olive farming? I can’t see it.”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d rather do right now. What about you? Back to Blighty, and your promotion?”

  “After a few months’ rest and recuperation. At least I’m in the right place for a holiday. Faulkner says I can stay on at his.”

  “He’ll like that.”

  “Give me chance to buy you dinner. As a sort of thank you. For not getting me killed whilst I was here.”

  The door squeaked open, and Tomas’ head appeared. His eyes were wide, and energy coursed through him like a firework about to pop. “Boss, I’ve been trying your phone.”

  “I turned it off. So as not to disturb Harper. What is it?”

  “You need to come back to the station. It’s your Dad. It’s Faulkner. He’s handed himself in.”

  “What?”

  “He’s confessed to killing Rosie Payne. In a hit and run. Years ago. Says he couldn’t cope with the guilt of keeping it a secret any longer. I think he’s lost his mind.”

  Beckett slammed to his feet.

  “Jesus Christ. Beckett?” Harper tried to sit up in bed but failed, groaning, “What the hell is going on?”

  Beckett looked at Tomas, and then at Harper, his mind racing. Suddenly, there was everything to play for, once again.

  The End

  A NOTE FROM THE PUBLISHER

  Thanks for reading The Hidden Island we hoped you enjoyed it as much as we did. Authors like Angela Corner, rely on you, the readers,
to help spread the word about books you’ve loved by leaving reviews. So please do consider leaving a review on Amazon or Goodreads to help others find this book and enjoy it too,

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  Readers who enjoyed The Hidden Island, also enjoyed:

  34 Days – A gripping psychological thriller from an international best-selling author. Just how how much can your life change in just 34 Days?

  Pick up Anita Waller’s best-selling thriller Amazon UK Amazon US

  Fracture- a stunning suspense thriller. How do you know who to believe when everybody lies?

  Pick up Heleyne Hammersley’s stunning thriller Amazon UK Amazon US

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thanks to all the amazing crime writers who have inspired me along the way. To my fellow writers, editors and producers in the world of television who taught me how to tell a story. And thanks to Richard who had the faith to support me in the writing of this book

 

 

 


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