For All Our Sins: A gripping thriller with a killer twist (DCI Claire Winters, Book 1)

by T. M. E. Walsh

  ‘I know it wasn’t you who started the fire.’ Manuela’s voice was barely audible.

  ‘You don’t know anything, old man,’ said Michael.

  Manuela’s head swung to one side and he saw Michael standing to the far side of the room next to another table, with a large cloth covering the top.

  ‘It was you,’ Manuela whispered.

  Michael looked to Amelia and they both started to laugh.

  ‘He still can’t work it out. He can’t see it.’ Michael let his laughter die as he slowly pulled at the tablecloth. ‘Redemption,’ he said, eyeing Manuela with such intensity that Manuela was forced to look away. ‘Redemption, and atonement. Isn’t that what you preach about? Do you think they’ll be a chance for you to save the fate of your soul when the time comes, Father?’

  The statement hung in the air and the cloth fell to the ground. Manuela could now see the glimmer of metal objects that had previously been hidden, and knew what they were for.

  They were meant for his wretched body.

  He wished his heart would give out. He wished he would die of fright.

  Anything would be better than what they had in store for him. His options were running out, his chance of rescue slim. His only chance was to bide some time – keep them talking.

  ‘Rebecca told me. She started the fire,’ he managed, his voice weak. ‘I couldn’t let her go unpunished.’

  ‘Rebecca was protecting me, you stupid fuck!’

  Manuela felt the hot spray of spittle from Amelia’s mouth against his face and turned his head away, but she grabbed a fistful of his hair and twisted his face towards hers.

  ‘She wouldn’t let me stop her. She wanted to help me and spare me a lashing and look what good it did her. You pushed her, watched her fall. You could’ve helped her… She was still alive when she hit the bottom!’

  Manuela groaned in anguish upon hearing the words spilling from her mouth. Amelia showed no signs of letting up, her face now bright red, eyes wide with pure rage.

  ‘I was so scared, I hid in the wardrobe in your room. Do you know how many long nights I’ve cried myself to sleep wishing I’d done more instead of being frozen with fear at what you’d done?’

  He began shaking his head, trying to block out her words. His face was screwed up, his eyes shut. His mind was willing him to be somewhere else and wake up from this nightmare.

  ‘I saw you carry her body into your room. I saw Wainwright help you. It was all done so casually. So normal, like you’d done it before.’

  ‘No, Amelia. It wasn’t like that.’

  ‘I saw you!’ she screamed into his face. ‘I went to help her after you left the room, but then you came back with Hawthorne. I wanted to leap out and save her, but I was so frightened of what you'd do to me if I was found, a witness to her murder, but I’m not frightened any more, Father. God spoke to me and His will shall be done.’

  Manuela saw the scalpel in her hand just as she plunged it into his side with such force, he felt like her hand had penetrated his entire abdominal cavity.

  Letting out another scream, his world returned to darkness once more.

  ***

  ‘She’s not dead!’

  The voice of David Hawthorne rang in the ears of both the other men, as they watched him cower over her body.

  The blood from her head wound was now seeping into the floor, and time felt like it had sped up, allowing no room for anyone to think clearly.

  ‘Get away from the body, David,’ Wainwright said, roughly pulling Hawthorne from her body and onto the bed.

  Hawthorne began to struggle.

  ‘She’s still alive! There might be a chance to save her if we act now. Let me call an ambulance, the police…’

  ‘And tell them what?’ said Manuela, a dark look in his eyes. ‘Tell them that she fell by herself’?’ He looked down at the blood coming from Rebecca’s head. ‘She will say I pushed her.’

  ‘And we have already moved the body – no, this will raise too many questions,’ said Wainwright.

  Hawthorne looked aghast at their words. ‘What do you mean by “body”? She’s still alive, damn you!’

  Manuela and Wainwright exchanged a look.

  They seemed to agree to something which remained unspoken.

  Hawthorne watched as Manuela went to a chest of drawers and removed something buried underneath his folded clothes.

  A dagger, almost ritualistic in design, was revealed to both men before he stooped over and grabbed a mass of Rebecca’s hair at the back of her head.

  Hawthorne, realising Manuela’s intentions, cried out in protest but was held down on the bed by Wainwright, whose hands gripped him with an iron force.

  Hawthorne cried out for them to stop, but Manuela looked to Wainwright as if seeking his permission.

  ‘If you’re going to do it, do it quickly, man!’

  Manuela looked down at Rebecca’s face and she slowly opened her eyes. They bored into his.

  Her confusion turned into terror when Manuela forced her head back and she saw the blade.

  She tried to scream, but only a light croaking sound escaped her lips.

  Her eyes widened as he lowered the blade to her throat, and her hands flew up to push his arms away but to little avail – she was far too weak.

  With one slow deep movement, Manuela cut through her skin, and looked away as blood poured from the wound as he severed her carotid artery.

  All Manuela could hear was Hawthorne’s cries of anguish, and the subtle gurgling sounds as Rebecca tried to cry out.

  Seconds passed and soon she was still.

  Wainwright released his grip on Hawthorne.

  He scrambled across the bed and fell, hitting the floor hard as he tried to reach her body.

  He soon felt Manuela force him back.

  ‘Stay away from the body.’

  From within the wardrobe, Amelia had bit back tears, and found she couldn’t move, even if she’d wanted to.

  There was no way she could reveal her hiding place now. For all they knew, she hadn’t been at the Manor for hours, and that was what she needed them to keep believing.

  She listened as they argued about what to do, and inwardly cursed each man.

  She heard Hawthorne give in and agree to keep their secret, and they forced him to clean up the mess in the bedroom while Rebecca was disposed of.

  She heard them remove the body and carry it down the stairs and into the basement.

  She had stayed in the wardrobe for hours after her friend’s death, before daring to make her escape.

  She had snuck to the bottom of the stairs and all she could smell was the stench of cleaning agents, which had made her gag.

  Satisfied she could make it unseen, she’d bolted for the main doors, and ran down the driveway with such speed that her muscles burned and her legs almost gave way under the strain.

  As soon as she’d made it to the main road, she knew she had to find Stevie.

  ***

  As darkness was falling, they worked in the twilight.

  Hawthorne had dug away the dirt and made the grave, but it was Manuela who had calculated how and where to bury her.

  He and Wainwright had pulled apart her frail body into easier pieces, all wrapped up in black bin bags. Then the bags were placed into a cloth sack.

  Hawthorne sat on the nearby bench and sobbed as they began to bury her.

  He watched as Manuela planted rose bushes he’d retrieved from the potter’s shed that he’d bought a few days beforehand.

  Hawthorne couldn’t believe the man who he’d called a friend over many years seemed to have changed into a man who could quite easily have done this before.

  In the space of a few hours that night, Manuela had given them the story they would tell when she was reported missing and the police came knocking.

  He even gave them the story they were to tell Mrs Lawrence in the weeks Rebecca would have a community looking for her and appealing for help.

 
; He had planned for everything, with no remorse or worry for his soul.

  This was no more a man of God than the Devil himself, and Hawthorne knew that someday he too would pay the ultimate price for the dark deeds done on this day.

  CHAPTER 84

  ‘Time’s running out fast and I’m drawing a blank.’

  Claire shut her eyes and ran her hands through her hair. She looked back at Stefan, who was standing mere feet from her. ‘Where the hell are they?’ she said, turning her back on him.

  They were back inside the Manor, alone by the staircase. Teams of SOCOs were doing a full search of the Manor and gardens, and Claire had decided to take a break to try and think.

  ‘Let’s look at what we’ve got,’ said Stefan at length. ‘Michael – or Stephen – whatever we’ll call him, hasn’t taken Manuela to his place. Officers are already there searching for any leads. You know him better than anyone, Claire. If you were him, where would you take Manuela?’

  Claire looked back over her shoulder.

  ‘But that’s just it, Fletch, I don’t know him better than anyone, do I? None of us could’ve known. He’s had plenty of time to practise this whole charade all these years, faking official documents and probably paying people off to get himself placed exactly where he needed to be.’

  She turned around to face him and he saw the hurt fixed upon her face. ‘The bastard shared my bed and all the time he was this…this monster. What I thought I knew was a lie. He built up a wall and I barely scratched the fucking surface.’

  ‘You don’t need to share that with me, Guv, it’s your private life,’ Stefan said, feeling uncomfortable.

  Claire shook her head. ‘Don’t say that, we both know I’ll be questioned over this. There’ll be a review and I’ll be asked why I didn’t know, how I could put my job on the line and mix business with pleasure. Why I failed to spot the warning signs. Why I compromised a case…list goes on.’

  Stefan edged closer.

  ‘Look, none of us had any idea. They can’t blame you for this. Michael had us all fooled. He and Williams have been planning this for years.’

  ‘And look at how many people have died because of them. All of this because I failed and couldn’t see what was staring me in the face every day.’

  There remained an uncomfortable silence, until Stefan cleared his throat.

  ‘Is there anything, no matter how irrelevant it might seem, that you can remember which he may have slipped up on? Was there anywhere significant you and Michael talked about, maybe from his childhood?’

  Claire let out a mock laugh. ‘When I think about it, we hardly ever talked. All we seemed to do was fuck.’

  Stefan recoiled at her words.

  ‘Sorry.’ She avoided his eyes. ‘I mean he never talked about his past much. In the end I gave up asking, and this was before we ended up in each other’s beds.’

  ‘You were married, so you can’t have been seeing each other in public places around here,’ Stefan said, treading this ground carefully when he saw the pain in her face. ‘Where did you go?’

  Claire paused, feeling uneasy talking about this to Stefan.

  She’d never told anyone about her affair, despite the fact people were suspicious, or talked much about her divorce. This was unknown ground she was treading and she wasn’t sure just how much she could trust Stefan to keep it to himself.

  ‘Hotels mainly.’ She caught the look on Stefan’s face before he could hide it. ‘Oh God, that sounds so seedy.’ Her face flushed red and she looked away from him.

  ‘I’m not here to judge.’

  ‘I’m uncomfortable with this, I’ll be honest.’

  ‘This isn’t about you, Claire.’

  The remark was unexpected and his bluntness caught her off guard. She turned to him and glowered.

  ‘You can look at me like that all you want, I don’t care. What I do care about is the people who’ve been sucked into this, the families who’ve had to deal with what’s left behind.’

  ‘Careful, Fletcher.’

  ‘I’m not scared of you. I’m here to do a job and right now I’m asking you to remember because so far we’ve got no leads as to where they’ve taken Manuela. For all we know he’s dead already.’

  Claire was about to speak when she saw Matthews coming towards them. His face looked pained.

  ‘We’ve found Harper.’

  Claire pushed Stefan aside. ‘Where?’

  ‘In some bushes off the main drive. He’s alive but he’s taken a bloody good whack to the head.’

  ‘Has he said anything?’ asked Stefan.

  Matthews shook his head. ‘He’s unconscious.’

  Stefan looked back at Claire. ‘You’ve got to remember something. Time is running out.’

  She sucked in a deep breath. She closed her eyes and tried to put everything else to the back of her mind and force herself to relive every moment she’d shared with Michael.

  At the moment when it all seemed futile, something clicked into place and she remembered something.

  ‘God, that’s a long shot,’ she said to herself.

  ‘You remembered something,’ Stefan said, his eyes narrowing.

  Claire shook her head. ‘I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t even know why I just thought of it.’

  ‘Well, that’s better than what we’ve got so far,’ Stefan said, pulling her by the arm. ‘We’ve not got much time.’

  CHAPTER 85

  ‘You’re sure about this address?’ Stefan looked at her, confused.

  Claire was driving her car just above the speed limit, dodging traffic expertly.

  She nodded.

  ‘It’d make sense. Michael talked about it a few times before we…’ She cut herself off and started again. ‘He said it was his refuge when he was a kid, that’s all he’d say. My guess is this is where he’d sleep rough after he left the Jenkins house.’

  ‘How’d you know the address?’

  There was a long pause.

  ‘He took me there…’

  Stefan frowned. ‘A derelict office building?’

  He glanced at her and saw the red flush across her cheeks. He looked ahead and didn’t seek an answer from her. He felt as awkward as she did.

  ‘It was exciting at the time and I guess that’s what I needed,’ she answered at length.

  Stefan made no further comment, and as they drove across to the other side of Haverbridge, up to the industrial area, he hoped they were not too late.

  Father Manuela had a lot to answer for, that much was certain, but their job right now was to prevent another horrific murder.

  ***

  Michael pulled away a large slice of skin in his hands and waved it in front of Manuela’s face.

  Manuela was barely conscious but knew all too well what he saw before him.

  His head leaned to one side and vomit spewed from his mouth, over his shoulder and onto the floor.

  Michael stepped back, pulling a face. He turned to Amelia, who was smearing Manuela’s blood over her hands.

  ‘You want to take over? He’s been sick again.’

  She turned to look at him then at Manuela.

  ‘Let him choke on it.’

  She walked over to the table and ran her fingers over the instruments for torture. She played with each item, picking it up, watching Manuela’s response. She picked up a claw hammer and looked down at his knee caps, then back to his face.

  ‘No, please…’ Manuela said his voice barely audible.

  Something in Michael snapped and what he was looking at became all too much. He shook his head, walked towards her and pulled the hammer from her hands.

  ‘Stop toying,’ he said, slamming the hammer back down on the table. He picked up a familiar-looking object and passed it to her. ‘Finish it.’

  She looked down at the dagger and remembered the day it had taken Rebecca’s life.

  She felt the blade between her fingers but stopped when she heard a car on the gravel outside.

 
; They both looked out from the smashed window beside them, the wind coming through and casting Amelia’s hair around her face.

  ‘They’ve found us.’ Her eyes returned to his. ‘If it comes to it…I’m not afraid to die.’

  Michael smiled and kissed her forehead.

  ‘It won’t come to that. I promise you.’

  CHAPTER 86

  As Claire drove onto the forecourt, Stefan looked up at the derelict office block. The five-storey building had been abandoned for as long as he could remember and it wasn’t likely to be renovated and occupied any time soon.

  The many windows were nearly all smashed, and shards of glass flashed across the forecourt under the glare of the sun. Graffiti tags snaked their way over the brickwork and continued around the far corner leading to an underground car park.

  The glass panels in the large entrance doors were shattered, but Stefan could still make out the piles of leaflets, old newspapers and empty food cartons scattered beyond into the reception hall.

  The thought that Claire had been inside this cavernous monstrosity with Michael made him more than uncomfortable.

  Places like this were usually used by squatters and junkies or where people conducted their ‘business’ and less than savoury deeds. It reminded Stefan of a building he’d once seen in Budapest. It’d had the same effect on him then that he was experiencing now.

  A sense of dread.

  ‘You can’t think they’ve brought Manuela here? They can’t guarantee they wouldn’t be disturbed. This is a junkie hotspot,’ Stefan said, turning to face her. ‘Plus, I don’t see any vehicle.’

  ‘It’s the best we’ve got so far.’ Claire undid her seatbelt. She got out of the car and looked at each window on every floor. ‘This isn’t the only entrance.’ She pointed off to the right. ‘That leads around to the underground car park.’

  Stefan walked up to the concrete ramp that led down into the belly of the building and frowned.

  Sunlight couldn’t penetrate through concrete and the lights that would’ve illuminated the way into the darkness were either smashed or missing their bulbs. He looked back at Claire. ‘I don’t like this.’