Tom Douglas Box Set

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Tom Douglas Box Set Page 109

by Rachel Abbott


  Not a chance.

  ‘I’m coming,’ I say, praying they won’t keep me locked in the back.

  Tom turns round to look at me, his face sympathetic but serious.

  ‘Olivia, your children are going to need you, so you can come. But it’s essential that you stay down and out of sight. If he sees you, it may all be over. Do you understand?’

  I agree, not knowing if I will be able to keep my promise when I see my babies.

  Ray has already set off across the field at a run.

  ‘What’s Ray doing?’ I whisper urgently, afraid that Robert will hear me.

  ‘He’ll have gone to check if he can see Robert. Don’t worry. He won’t approach him if the situation is dangerous.’

  We hurry along the path, trying to keep our eyes on Ray ahead of us. The ground is uneven, with bright yellow gorse and pale lilac crane’s bill trying to encroach on the narrow trail. I have to keep looking down to avoid stumbling, but I don’t want to take my eyes off Ray. Suddenly he crouches down and turns towards us to hold up a hand in warning. I can’t see Robert, but I know Ray can. He signals us to get down low, especially Tom who is taller than the rest of us. We bend at the waist and the knees and quietly make our way forwards.

  I have this mad notion that I can communicate with Jaz. I’ve always believed that telepathy is a skill or a sense waiting to be discovered, and now I am going to give it my best shot.

  Jaz, darling, can you hear me? I repeat in my head. Get on the ground, Jaz. Get the boys on the ground and wrap yourselves together in knots, arms and legs, so he can’t separate you. It will make it harder. Do it, Jaz. Just do it, sweetheart.

  We reach Ray and finally I can see Robert and the children just below us. I swallow a sob of relief that they are still alive. Robert is standing, but Jaz is already on the ground, probably exhausted from the walk, and she is leaning forwards with her head down. Freddie is beside her, trying to snuggle closer to her, and without looking up she reaches out an arm to wrap around him. Billy is on his feet, staring at his dad but I’m too far away to read the expression on his face. I imagine he is totally bewildered.

  Everywhere is quiet, and I try to separate out the sounds, so that I might hear the children’s voices. The intermittent crashing of waves on to the rocks at the base of the cliff and the shrill, piping call of an oystercatcher mask the sounds I am listening for. But faintly I think I can hear the gulping noise Billy makes when he is trying not to cry, and his big sister saying, ‘Shh, shh.’ Or perhaps I’m imagining it.

  Then I hear the low growl of Robert’s voice, more distinct, because he is facing us. The wind is whipping some of his words away, but I know what he’s saying.

  ‘Stand up, Jasmine, and pick Freddie up.’ I can see from his hand movements what he wants her to do. He wants her to hold Freddie because he can’t hold them all at once. But Jasmine isn’t moving. She’s pulled Freddie close to her, not quite doing what I implored her to do in my thoughts, but she’s making it difficult for Robert.

  Tom and Ray are whispering, trying to decide what to do. Robert is too far away, and if they rush him now, he still has time to grab my babies – or at least two of them – and jump. I can’t hear what the police are saying, but I edge closer to the front so I am level with Ray.

  Suddenly, Robert reaches down and snatches a handful of Jasmine’s hair to drag her to her feet. She cries out in pain. A knife pierces my heart, and I lose all sense of reason. He is hurting my baby, so I stand up and run. A hand reaches out to grasp my ankle and pull me back before I’m seen, but I kick it away and I’m free.

  ‘Jaz!’ I scream. ‘Lie on the ground, lie on top of Freddie. Billy, Billy – lie down.’

  Jasmine’s head whips round and her silky hair slides out of Robert’s hand. She pauses, but just for a second, then flings herself to the ground, knocking a screaming Freddie over, covering his little body with hers. But Billy stands still, staring at me. Robert reaches out for him, but Jaz is too quick and Billy’s hand is nearer to hers than it is to Robert's. She grabs him and yanks him off his feet. He tumbles to the ground with a shout of surprise.

  I pray that the policemen will stay down. If Robert sees them before I get to him, he will snatch one of my children, and take them with him into the hell of churning water below. I daren’t take my eyes off Robert’s now, but I can see in my peripheral vision a bright orange boat, bobbing just off the shoreline. The lifeboat. But it will be useless if Robert takes one of them over the edge with him. The rocks will get them before the sea.

  ‘Robert!’ I yell, with all the accumulated pain and anguish spilling out in those two syllables. He is crouching down, trying to disentangle the children, but also watching me as he does it. He can’t get a hold though. As I run, I can see that as soon as he grabs one child’s arm, the other is wrapped round a leg, and he can’t tear them apart. At least, not before I get to him.

  Or that’s what I’m thinking. But I’m wrong.

  In his fear of everything that’s happening, and because he has heard my voice, Freddie has managed to crawl out from under Jasmine, who is so intent on saving Billy that she hasn’t noticed, and Robert plucks Freddie up and holds him in his arms.

  He backs towards the edge of the cliff as Jasmine cries out, feeling that she has failed to protect her brother. I am desperate to comfort her – but not yet. I stop dead.

  ‘Robert,’ I say, trying to keep my voice level, ‘stop this. Please. Put Freddie down.’

  Jasmine and Billy are crawling away from Robert towards me, and with one hand I signal them to get behind me. Jaz understands, and pulls Billy with her. But I never take my eyes off my husband.

  ‘You never understood, did you Olivia,’ he says. ‘Do you know what I had to do to win you, to make you mine? Do you know how much love it takes to do all the things I had to do?’

  I do know. I’ve worked it all out for myself, but there was never anybody to tell, and no proof of anything but a life of love and devotion. What can I say to make this right?

  ‘I understand, Robert. I know how much you love me and I know how good you’ve been to me. I’m so sorry I hurt you.’ I start to walk towards him slowly. Perhaps I can still convince him that what he feels is a love that is pure, and not tainted by his acts of evil. Can I convince him there is still a chance for us?

  I try to make my expression one of sorrow as I take another step.

  ‘I don’t want you to die,’ I lie. ‘Can’t we talk? Please, Robert?’

  For a moment I think I’m getting through, and then Robert glances behind me, and his eyes change. He’s seen somebody. He knows it’s not just him and me. He pulls Freddie tighter to him and starts to back up towards the edge of the cliff. I can’t let him get close but he only has about eight metres to go.

  I can hear Jasmine and Billy crying behind me, and I take one look at Freddie’s terrified little face. I don’t stop to think or to plan. Robert has my baby. I lean forwards and rush at him. Two steps and I leap to try to knock him to the floor. He’s not a big man, but he’s bigger and heavier than me, and he absorbs the shock without falling. He has loosened his hold on Freddie, though, and Freddie has wriggled free.

  Robert grabs me round the neck and pulls me to him, squeezing hard, muttering insanely under his breath about his perfect love. I want to break free, but I hear Jaz screaming, and over Robert’s shoulder I see Freddie is backing away from us, not realising that in just a few tiny steps his foot will come down and meet thin air as he tumbles down the cliff face.

  I can’t breathe. I’m fighting not for my life but for Freddie’s and I can’t shout out. I try, but the pressure on my throat forces nothing more than a squeak from my larynx.

  I can’t turn my head, but from nowhere I see a dark shape swoop towards Freddie and pluck him right from the edge.

  Thank God. My children are safe.

  I can die now.

  60

  From where I am sitting on the sofa, I can see the chief inspector �
� Tom, as he told me to call him during our interminable two-hour wait at the cliff top – at the dining-room table, nursing his hand in a packet of frozen peas wrapped in a tea towel; an injury sustained as he dived to the ground to grab Freddie back from the brink. According to the doctor it’s just a sprain, but I will never be able to thank him enough for what he did.

  Robert has been arrested for crimes committed on Alderney soil, and has been taken to the cells. A UK warrant will be delivered tomorrow, and then apparently they have to decide if Robert should be returned to Manchester to be charged with offences committed there, or remain here to be charged for his attack on the children and me. I asked Ray what offences in Manchester, but he told me it is something I need to discuss with Tom.

  I am hemmed in on all sides by children. Jaz is on one side and Billy on the other, both crushed up against me so that rather wonderfully I am almost unable to breathe as they squeeze themselves as tightly as possible against my ribcage. Freddie is on my knee, curled up in a tight ball, his head pressing against the bruises on my neck. The pain just reminds me of what I almost lost.

  The children are shocked, and I don’t know how I am going to be able to get them past this. I’m hoping that the peace and calm of this island will soothe them. Jasmine is going to take the longest to recover, though. Her serious little face settles from time to time into a frown as if she is trying to puzzle something out in her own head.

  Tom is looking at me, and I know he wants to talk to me about something – something serious. He stands up and walks over, speaking in a quiet even tone to avoid any hint of tension creeping into the calmness of the room.

  ‘Olivia, do you think we could have a word, please? I know you don’t want to leave the children, but Becky will stay with them. We can just sit over there in the dining area so you can still see them, but it’s probably best if we’re not overheard.’

  I have a quiet word with Jaz, just to make sure she’s okay, and suggest she chooses a DVD that they might all enjoy. Perhaps a harmless, happy cartoon would be best.

  I follow Tom, but make sure I am never out of their sight, and Tom sits with his back to my children, as if he doesn’t want them to hear what he’s saying.

  ‘Tom, how can I ever thank you for what you did today?’

  He smiles at me kindly. ‘You risked your life, and we nearly lost you. I don’t think I would have forgiven myself if that had happened.’

  They have told me how Tom scooped Freddie into his arms and passed him to Jasmine while Ray tackled Robert to the ground; how Becky guided my distraught children to safety while the two men secured Robert with handcuffs. But I was already unconscious, and once again they had to resuscitate me.

  The first thing I saw when I came round was the incredible sight of my three children, hovering over me, their dirty, tear-streaked faces looking more beautiful than I have ever seen them. I drag myself back to the present as Tom reaches over and gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

  ‘We knew Robert was coming for the children. Sophie told us. It must have been impossible for you to believe what he planned to do.’

  ‘It was, but sadly he wouldn’t have been the first father to do that, would he? And he wanted me to suffer for not loving him.’

  Who would have believed me if I’d told them what I suspected – that my children’s lives were in danger? Thank God Sophie understood, incredible as my story sounded. But then she had witnessed Robert’s obsession all those years ago, and knew that he was capable of anything. It wasn’t long after that we worked out the rest of it.

  What would I have done without Sophie? I had asked Becky to phone her as soon as we were safe. Even though I want to speak to her myself, the children have to be my priority. I’ll call her later, when they are tucked up in bed.

  Tom leans forwards and lowers his voice still further.

  ‘I’m sorry to add to the horrors of today, but I need to ask you about Danush Jahander. What can you tell me about him?’

  I knew this was coming, of course, and I should have been prepared. But hearing his name on somebody else’s lips still makes me ache for him. I try to keep my voice steady.

  ‘You know about him leaving all those years ago – I remember you now from that dreadful night. It seems so long ago, but you were kind to me then and you were so supportive about my parents.’ I nearly lose it at that point. Whichever way I look at it, it seems it is my fault they died. But Tom wants to talk about Dan, so I drag my mind back.

  ‘I’m sure you know that I got a text from Dan when he left to say he was sorry, and then I heard nothing more from him until about a year ago. He’d tracked me down; he wanted us to get back together. I couldn’t do it. I love Dan so much, and I always will, but I knew what Robert would do.’

  I can’t look at Tom as I tell him this. I trace shapes on the table with my finger, and focus my attention there.

  ‘So what happened?’

  ‘I saw Dan a few times, and he begged me to leave. He even wanted me to take Jaz to Iran to meet his family. I nearly did, too. But I couldn’t make him understand that I needed time, and the risk to both Dan and my children was far too great.’

  ‘Did you know that Danush contacted your husband two weeks ago? Apparently he wanted to set up a meeting.’

  I concentrate fiercely on the shapes on the tablecloth that are becoming increasingly intricate. My voice drops to little more than a whisper.

  ‘Sophie told me. Dan’s still a bit hot-headed and he didn’t want to wait for me. But Robert was in Newcastle, so I guess it wasn’t possible for them to meet. I haven’t heard from Dan in two weeks, and he’s not answering his phone. So I assume he’s still mad at me for running away. Maybe now… I don’t know. It’s all so long ago.’

  I still can’t look at Tom. My head is swamped with an image of Dan, laughing at something I’d said, reaching out an arm and pulling me close to him and burying his lips in my hair. Tom is speaking again, but I keep the image in my head. I like to look at it.

  ‘We think your husband arranged to meet Danush at your house last Wednesday. We know Robert came home that night.’ I feel a tight band squeeze my chest. I know what Tom is going to say. ‘I’m sorry, Olivia. You’ve had a huge amount to deal with today, and I hate having to add to your burden, but we believe your husband killed Danush Jahander.’

  I let my head drop down on to folded arms, resting on the table. The grief wells up in me, as at last I feel free to mourn my lovely, beautiful Dan. In my mind I can still see him. I pull back from his imagined embrace, look into his chocolate brown eyes and smile while Tom continues with the details. Dan smiles back. I think he’s proud of me.

  ‘We found blood in your husband’s study. We matched it to DNA from a pair of gloves we found in a box in the attic belonging to Danush. But we do need to be certain that it was Dan’s blood, so we’d like to take a DNA sample from Jasmine, if it’s okay with you.’

  I lift my tear-stained face and look at Tom. I hate myself for what I’m about to say, but I have no choice.

  ‘Take one by all means, Chief Inspector, but I’m not sure it will help you. Unfortunately Jasmine isn’t Dan’s daughter. She’s Samir’s.’

  61

  Wednesday

  Tom was surprisingly quiet on the flight back. But Becky was jubilant. At last this family could live in peace. It was tragic that Dan couldn’t be part of it, but to live without fear must be such a relief for Olivia.

  ‘Are you okay, Tom?’ she asked. ‘Is your hand hurting?’

  ‘Yes, but I’ll live,’ he replied.

  Becky waited, but there was no more to come.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ she asked. She was puzzled by his expression. He was deep in thought and kept chewing his bottom lip in a most un-Tom-like way.

  ‘Fine, thanks.’

  Bloody hell, this was like pulling teeth. At least Sophie Duncan had sounded elated when Becky had phoned to say that Olivia and the children were safe. She hadn’t mentioned Danush – she
would leave it to Olivia to explain.

  ‘What do you make of the whole Dan and Samir thing, then?’ she asked, in a last ditch attempt at starting a conversation.

  ‘Not a lot. She said she told Dan that Jasmine might be Samir’s all those years ago, and that’s why he left.’

  ‘But why, though? Why did she have an affair with Danush’s brother if she loved him so much?’

  Tom shook his head.

  ‘Ours not to reason why, Becky. People do all sorts of daft things for no reason that anybody else can understand.’

  Becky hoped this wasn’t a barbed remark about her and Peter Hunter, but it was so unlike Tom that she discounted the idea.

  ‘I think it was all tied up with her trying to make Dan jealous and simultaneously trying to charm Samir,’ Tom said, ‘and it all got a bit out of hand. Something like that. Anyway, despite Jasmine’s blood parentage, Olivia has always thought of her as Danush’s child, and that’s what she’s brought her up to believe. We’ll test Jasmine’s blood, but I’m fairly sure that we will find a match to her paternal uncle – which is what Danush is.’

  ‘So what’s eating you?’ Becky persisted.

  ‘I don’t know. There’s something wrong. I know it, I can feel it. But I don’t know what it is.’

  They were silent for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Tom picked up some notes he was studying, and immediately put them down again.

  ‘There’s something else I’ve been meaning to tell you, although I’m not sure if it’s the right thing to do. I don’t want to lose you from the team now that I’ve got you.’

  Becky turned her head sharply towards him. ‘What? I’m not in the shit for something, am I?’

  ‘No, of course not. When we were waiting for the plane at Guernsey airport I had a call asking if I would be interested in filling a temporary post back in the Met.’

  ‘You’re not going to take it, are you?’ Becky said, unable to disguise the horror in her voice.

 

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