by Helen Phifer
‘I’m on my way.’
‘Good, text me when you’re here. I’ll come meet you.’
The line went dead, and he wondered what was so sensitive that he couldn’t tell him over the phone. The heaviness in his stomach that had seemed to become a permanent fixture felt worse than ever.
Ben arrived at the hospital in record time. Parking his car took longer, but he managed to squeeze into a tight spot and hoped whoever was parked either side of him could manoeuvre. He called Declan.
‘That was quick, I’ll meet you at the WRVS tea station in the outpatients’ department.’
Ben walked along the street, feeling as if he’d stepped into some Jack Reacher novel. Why was everything so cloak and dagger? The churning in his stomach hadn’t subsided and he didn’t think that whatever Declan was about to tell him was going to make it disappear. He found the outpatients’ building and walked through the sliding doors. Following his nose, he could smell the coffee before he saw the small café area. Declan was already at the counter; he nodded at Ben. Paid for the two coffees, then said: ‘Let’s go outside.’
‘It’s pretty cold out there.’
‘I know, but I don’t want to talk about it here.’
He followed Declan out and they walked a short distance to where there was a low wall. Declan looked around and, satisfied there wasn’t anyone in hearing distance, he sat down. Ben sat next to him.
Declan held out the paper coffee cup. ‘Just a bog-standard cappuccino.’
Ben took it and pursed his lips, sipping from the small hole in the lid. ‘Thanks. So what’s all this top-secret stuff about? It’s a bit unnerving. I gather this is something to do with work?’
‘Look, we’ve been friends a long time and I have the utmost respect for you as a highly qualified detective. You’re excellent at your job; the results you achieve speak for themselves.’
‘And?’
‘I fast-tracked the eyelash from the crime scene yesterday. I have a friend who works in the lab at Chorley. We sometimes go out for a drink, see each other, you know; he’s a great guy and I really like him.’
‘That’s brilliant, I’m pleased for you, but it’s no secret to me that you’re gay, Declan. I don’t care who you date as long as you’re happy.’
Declan had taken a sip of his coffee and he snorted, spraying coffee all over himself.
‘Christ, Ben, you idiot. I haven’t dragged you here to tell you that. I’m getting to it.’ He laughed and Ben joined in and it felt good. It also took a while for Declan to compose himself. Finally, he did.
‘This is where it gets serious. He extracted the DNA from the eyelash follicle then ran it through NDNAD, the national DNA database. As you well know, all serving officers have their DNA taken and it’s put onto a separate database so we can eliminate them from enquiries. You said yourself that Morgan entered the scene, yes?’
Ben could taste the coffee in the back of his throat; the bitterness was nothing compared to the coldness in the pit of his stomach.
‘It was run through both and came back as a close match for Morgan. He also ran the sample again from the Gabrielle Stevens’s scene and that came back identical with the sample from Stan.’
‘What does this mean? She entered both scenes. Surely, she could have left it somehow. She touched a picture frame at the first scene. It must be from that.’
Declan was shaking his head. ‘Did you let her go into the scene not wearing protective clothing, no gloves?’
‘Of course not, but she did go in unprotected to Stan’s flat.’
‘Yes, but you said yourself, you were behind her and she never touched him and wasn’t in there very long.’
‘What about the DNA that matched the Riverside Rapist? How did that get there? It’s all been screwed up somehow. It has to have been a major cock-up, because he’s in prison and has been for years.’
‘I had that rechecked; that DNA is remarkably similar to Morgan’s. In fact, it’s almost a match.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I’m not one hundred per cent sure myself, but my best guess is that Morgan is somehow related to him. There must be a family connection somewhere along the line. I’m sorry, Ben, but from where I’m standing, Morgan could be the killer. I don’t know why or how or what it’s about, but you have to take the evidence seriously. I’m as devastated as you are. I like her a lot. She’s clever, fiery, ambitious and driven… but so are a lot of killers.’
Ben stared at an empty cola can that was rolling around on the floor, the strong breeze sending it spiralling in circles. His head was a mess; he couldn’t believe it, nor did he want to.
‘Can you give me twenty-four hours before you tell anyone else?’
‘Why?’
‘To prove her innocence. I don’t know. To find out what the fuck is going on. Do you really believe she’s murdered two people? Please, Declan, I’ve never asked you for anything like this since we’ve known each other. I need you to sit on this just for twenty-four hours until I’ve looked into it. If I don’t come up with any evidence to prove otherwise, I’ll bring her in myself.’
Declan ran his hand through his hair. He looked as stressed as Ben felt, and he knew he was putting him in a difficult position.
‘No, I don’t believe it, but that’s my heart talking and it’s led me to make some terrible choices over the years. I’ll give you twenty-four hours and not a minute more. I like her a lot, but I will not jeopardise my career and my life for her. If you want some advice from an old friend, neither should you. Take care, Ben, you could be dealing with someone who is inherently evil and very clever at disguising it. I don’t want to lose you either.’
He stood up, reached out and squeezed Ben’s shoulder then he walked back towards the outpatients’ entrance, discarding his paper cup into the bin on the way in. He never looked back, and Ben had never felt so scared or alone in his life.
FORTY-ONE
Dan strolled into the office with a grease-spotted brown paper McDonald’s bag and a tray full of coffees. Amy jumped up to high-five him.
‘Thank God, I’m starving.’ She took the bag from him, rummaging around inside it until she found her double sausage and egg muffin.
‘You’re welcome, hungry eh?’
She nodded, passing the bag back to him. He went to sit at the desk he was using. Morgan’s desk. It didn’t feel right and, as bad as he felt about her dad, he sort of felt relieved he was finally getting his chance to work in CID. He would show them how capable he was. His elbow knocked the mouse and the computer monitor came to life. Staring back at him was a picture of a fresh-faced Morgan in her black polo shirt and body armour. He pulled his bacon roll and the hash browns from the bag. Placing them on some serviettes on the desk, he turned to drop the bag into the bin and saw the gift bag. Picking it up, the box was still inside. He pulled it out and opened it. The earrings were gone. Looking back at the picture of Morgan, he realised that she’d been in here at some point since he’d left after ten last night. He felt sick to the pit of his stomach: she shouldn’t have been here; the DCI had told her to take some time off. Why had she come in, sneaking around to use the computer when there was no one here? He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to get her into trouble, but he didn’t want to drop himself in any either. He hadn’t even managed twenty-four hours, and he was already having a major crisis.
Damn you, Morgan, and your selfish bloody tactics.
Now he was angry with her because, if he didn’t tell Ben, he could get kicked out before he’d even started, but if he did tell he’d feel like a grass.
Amy came to take one of the hash browns and looked at him.
‘What’s up? You haven’t touched your breakfast?’
He shook his head. ‘Nothing, I like to take my time to eat.’
‘What are you saying? I eat like a pig?’ This made her laugh, and he wondered if she was nuts.
Ben, who had just walked in, shook his head. ‘You’
ll get used to her weird sense of humour, eventually. Have we got any major breaking news since we clocked off last night? Has anyone come to the front desk to hand themselves in for being a sick and twisted killer?’
They both stared at him.
‘That’s a nope then. I thought as much. I need to sort some stuff out. Amy give me a few minutes then I need a word.’
He walked into his office and closed the door.
Amy whispered: ‘Wonder what’s got to him this early in the day?’
Dan looked back at the screen; he was afraid to touch it. Before he could change his mind, he went and knocked on Ben’s office door.
‘Yeah?’
He opened it a crack. ‘Sorry, can I have a word?’
‘Come in.’
He did, closing the door behind him. ‘I don’t know what to say; I don’t really want to say but I think you should probably know.’
‘What?’
‘Morgan has been in and used my computer, well her computer.’
The look of disbelief on Ben’s face made him feel better for telling him.
‘When? This morning whilst I’ve been out?’
‘I don’t know. No, I think probably earlier like really early.’
‘Right.’
‘What should I do? Use another computer so you have it as evidence?’
‘Evidence of what? That she’s been in when she was told to take some compassionate leave? It’s not really evidence, is it? She hasn’t done anything wrong. Well except for being an idiot. No, you can use it. This is between me and you for the time being. Can you tell Amy to come see me on your way out?’
Dan nodded and left him with his head in his hands, closing the door behind him.
‘He wants you to go see him now.’
She shoved the last of her hash brown in her mouth and stuck her thumb up.
He sat back down at the desk. Maybe he should phone Morgan to see if she was okay because she was acting strange.
FORTY-TWO
Morgan stared at the blush pink door and found herself falling in love with it. She was a goth at heart; on her days off, she nearly always wore black, loved her tattoos, winged eyeliner, and fishnets with Dr Martens. But she also loved the colour pink, just not on her. She’d been watching the house for almost ten minutes; she didn’t know if Angela Hardy was home or if she’d talk to her, and the very thought of it made her feel sick. She had no choice really; Angela was the only person who could tell her who she was and where she’d come from. She’d dressed in one of her work suits, and her lanyard was around her neck. Inhaling deeply to calm the churning inside her stomach, she got out of the car and approached the front door. Before she’d even got through the matching pink gate, the door opened and Angela Hardy smiled at her.
‘I was wondering how long it would take you to knock on my door. Not that I’m nosey, but Alice from work rang to tell me I was getting an official visitor, so I’ve been watching out for you.’
Morgan felt the heat as her cheeks turned red. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been trying to figure out what I need to ask so I don’t waste too much of your time.’
‘I’m retired, I don’t have any plans today. You chose a good time to catch me. Please come inside.’
They went into a lounge with bay windows. Lake Windermere was just visible over the tops of the trees in the distance.
‘Nice view, I love the lake.’
‘It’s even better from my bedroom. I spend hours up there reading and looking out at the water.’
‘That sounds like heaven.’
‘It is, well to me. Alice said you’re investigating a murder but needed to talk to me about an adoption case from 1999.’
Morgan couldn’t help thinking that if all this went to court, Alice and her foolproof memory would be an excellent prosecution witness on the stand against her.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘There was only one adoption I worked on that year. It was connected to the murder of Janet Marks in front of her children, by the man who would later be further arrested for being the Riverside Rapist.’
It was hard to breathe. Morgan felt as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. The dreams, the woman covered in blood, what if that was all to do with her? She nodded. Trying to keep calm. She couldn’t betray who she was; Angela would clam up and she wouldn’t find out what she needed to know.
‘There’s not an awful lot I can tell you really. I had been on maternity leave and was thrust back in at the deep end on my first week back, but it’s all in the papers. What do you specifically need to know about the adoption?’
Morgan was reeling: she had said ‘in front of her children’.
‘How many children did Janet Marks have?’
‘A girl and a boy; the girl was three when it happened; the boy was slightly older. He was almost five.’
‘What happened to them?’
‘Well the girl was adopted almost immediately by a couple who had been desperate to have children. The boy stayed in care longer. It was like that back then. Girls always seemed to get snapped up first. The boy eventually got adopted, but I didn’t deal with that. He had been passed on to someone else by then.’
‘Do you have details of the families they went to?’
‘I don’t, sorry. Are you trying to trace them?’
‘Yes.’
‘It was a long time ago; I do remember there was an aunt. She was Gary Marks’s sister, but I couldn’t tell you her name it was so long ago. She wanted to take both children, but it was never allowed; a crying shame if you ask me. I recommended she should be considered, but they wanted them completely removed from the family. I bet if you Google it you’ll find all sorts of information and a lot faster than going through the official channels. You never know, the aunt might have been able to trace them. She seemed like a lovely lady.’
Morgan stood up. She held out her hand and Angela shook it.
‘Thank you.’
Walking back to the car, she felt as if she were living in some bad dream that she couldn’t wake up from. Her mother had been murdered by her father, who just happened to be the Riverside Rapist, who she had visited in prison only yesterday, completely unaware they were related. She also had a brother out there somewhere. She wondered if he knew about her. And then the thought struck that perhaps he knew a lot more about her than she did herself. Could he be the killer? Was he responsible for Stan’s murder? For Gabby’s? Did he know she’d visited their father?
FORTY-THREE
‘Amy, sit down, this is between us. Do not tell anyone else what I’m about to tell you.’
Amy sat opposite Ben. ‘What’s going on, boss?’
‘I don’t know exactly.’ He needed her on his side, but he didn’t want to involve her on such a level that if everything went wrong she’d get dragged down with him. He wouldn’t do that to her. He was willing to risk everything to prove Morgan’s innocence, but not at the expense of people he admired and respected.
‘There are some discrepancies with the DNA results from both crime scenes. You know that there was a match to the Riverside Rapist, which is ridiculous because he’s in prison. What isn’t so ridiculous, and an explanation for, is that he must have a close family member who shares an almost identical profile to him. Stan’s murder threw us off track yesterday, but I need you to get me everything you can on Gary Marks. Pull everything, case files, intelligence reports, newspaper articles. Then I want you to do an in-depth intelligence check on Morgan, but not on our system, and I don’t want you to talk about it in front of anyone. Not Dan or those two detectives from Barrow.’
She was staring at him. ‘Why Morgan? What’s she got to do with any of this?’
Ben knew she was clever, and it wouldn’t take her long to figure it out, but he was trying to protect her.
‘So the official investigation into Marks, the RR. Then an unofficial investigation into Morgan, right?’
He nodded.
‘You think this family m
ember could be…?’
He held out his hand. ‘Please don’t say it out loud. I don’t know what I’m thinking, this is so screwed up. It’s blowing my mind, but I need to know. I need to figure out what the hell is going on before anything else happens. Did you get that statement from the landlord at the pub? I need to know if he’s a potential suspect for Gabby Stevens.’
‘I need to go back there. His partner has been away for a few days and back this morning. But there’s so much to look into: what do you want me to do first?’
‘I know, I’m sorry to put this all on you. Please just do what you can. Find out what you can. I suggest you start with Gary Marks and work your way forward from there. You can always ask Des to go to back to The Golden Ball.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘Go back to speak to Marks, find out what he knows and why he gave us the runaround yesterday. The smug bastard knew something; he had a smile on his face the whole time. I’ve already arranged a visit.’
‘You can’t go on your own, take Dan?’
‘I’d rather shit in my hands and clap, thank you. He’s a sneaky little telltale. I’m trying but looking at him irritates me.’
‘That might be, but you need someone there to have your back, witness anything that comes to light, just in case it turns into a disaster.’
‘I’ll take my chances and, besides, I don’t want him to know anything that we’ve just discussed. This is between you and me. If this all goes horribly wrong and PSD get drawn into it, you deny all knowledge of me asking you to do background checks on Morgan. You understand, Amy, you need to use a computer that isn’t linked to you.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know, go to the library or an Internet café.’
‘Boss, this is Rydal Falls not London, we’re a bit short on Internet cafés and such. I’ll have to go down the library.’
She walked to the door. ‘Amy.’ Turning to look at him, he smiled. ‘Thank you. No matter what happens, don’t get involved on a professional level with anything to do with her. I’ll take the flak should it come to that.’