FORGOTTEN VICTIM an absolutely gripping crime mystery with a massive twist (Detective Rachel King Thrillers Book 4)

by HELEN H. DURRANT

  “I’ll get on to the bank right away, ma’am,” Jonny said. “The last time that card was used might help with the timescale.”

  Rachel nodded. “Do that, would you? Jude has put all the forensic details gleaned so far on the system. You’ll get what you need from there.”

  A voice spoke from the back of the room. “DCI King, when you’ve finished briefing the team, could I have a word? I’ll wait for you in Harding’s old office.”

  Surprised, Rachel recognised that voice only too well. It was DCI Mark Kenton. But what was he doing here? For a brief spell he’d been their acting superintendent. Prior to that, he’d been the SIO on a people trafficking case that had overlapped with a murder Rachel was working on. Relations between the pair had been strained. Rachel was aware that he’d returned to his own station at Salford, and she and the team thought they’d seen the last of him. His unexpected return filled her with trepidation. Kenton was an irritant she could do without.

  Chapter Five

  Kenton was waiting for her in Superintendent Harding’s office, seated in the ex-super’s chair. He smiled at her. “Take a seat.”

  Rachel was curious but she didn’t have time for polite conversation. “What’s going on, Mark?” she asked. “Why are you back?”

  “Coffee?” he said, ignoring her question.

  “No thanks. Just tell me what you’re doing here.”

  “Well, Harding doesn’t need this office any more. He lost his job, if you remember.”

  Rachel’s eyes darted around the small room. She saw Kenton’s overcoat on a hanger behind the door and the contents of his briefcase spread over the desk. She groaned — she couldn’t help it. “You’ve got Harding’s job, haven’t you? You’re our new super.”

  He smiled. “You should be a detective! Well done, spot on. Apparently, I did such a good job as acting super the powers that be thought they’d make it permanent.” He paused, watching her closely. “I have to say, Rachel, I was surprised you didn’t offer up any competition for the post. A career-minded woman like you — it was the logical next step.”

  If only. And he was right, in other circumstances, Rachel would have been a strong contender. But she was pregnant and no matter what provisions the force had for mothers with infants, it would just not have worked. When she’d had her other two children, she’d had Alan, their father. This time she’d be on her own.

  “I have my reasons.”

  He looked puzzled. “Care to share them? Is there something I should know about the role? Or the station?”

  “No, Mark, the teams here are excellent, particularly mine, and everyone is very friendly. But a word of advice, don’t be too hard to start with and ruffle too many feathers. You need their support.”

  “I’ll do my best. I’m a fair man, but I am used to getting results.”

  Rachel knew that. She also knew that his team at Salford had been scared stiff of him. Kenton had a temper, and if things didn’t go as he expected, he wasn’t afraid to show it. If he threw his weight around here, the positive dynamic within her team would suffer.

  “Now, your current case. I’d have thought it would’ve been more suited to the cold case team.”

  Rachel wasn’t about to take that from him. “You’re wrong. The body is on our patch and we’ll cope just fine.”

  “Mistake, Rachel. The forensic costs alone will run to a small fortune. We have a tight budget. I’ll give you a week to make progress. After that, cold case has it.”

  So, this was how it was going to be. Everything they did, he’d lay down the law, standing over her team with a bloody calculator in his hand. Well, she wasn’t having it.

  “We’ve already got a strong lead, Mark. Leave us to it.” Rachel had heard enough. She stood up to leave.

  “I mean it, Rachel. You have one week. The budget isn’t infinite, and I will not throw it at cases we should pass on elsewhere.”

  “We can’t solve crimes, particularly a murder as nasty as this one, on a shoestring, Mark. We’re detectives, not accountants.” She turned her back on him and headed for the door.

  “Seen Jed recently?” he called after he.

  Rachel stopped in her tracks. Was it the name or the fact that Kenton had asked the question? Rachel wasn’t sure. Jed was a problem she couldn’t think about rationally just now. She had no idea what she was going to do about him or the baby, when or even if she was going to tell him. And discussing their relationship with Kenton was not on the menu.

  “No, why?”

  “We had lunch a couple of days ago. He thinks you’re avoiding him. Is that the case?”

  “Whether I avoid Jed McAteer or not has nothing to do with you,” she said.

  Rachel was dying to ask Kenton what he was doing having lunch with Jed in the first place, but she bit her tongue. The two men were poles apart. Kenton was a career cop, while back in the day, Jed had been one of Manchester’s most notorious villains — which was why he and Rachel weren’t together. However, of late, Jed had magically swept all that away and the police, Kenton in particular, appeared to think Jed had changed.

  “Jed is concerned that he’s heard nothing from you these last weeks. He blames me for working you too hard. I assured him that wasn’t so.”

  “Work keeps us all busy, Mark.” She’d no idea what his game was. Why all the interest in her relationship — or otherwise — with Jed? “Jed understands that.”

  “Are you sure? He struck me as one puzzled man. He spoke about you constantly, told me how the pair of you met as students. He never married, so I presume he must have been carrying a torch for you all these years.”

  That was no business of his. Rachel wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but she held her tongue. What was Jed doing discussing their private life with this man? Kenton must have read the look on her face because all at once he changed tack.

  “Okay, I’ll drop it. Keep me informed about the case, and remember, you have a week.”

  Rachel was shaking when she left Kenton’s office. At this rate she’d fall apart within days. She had to get a grip. Whether it was the case, Jed or the pregnancy, she’d no idea. But it had to stop. She had a job to do, with or without Kenton on her back. She decided to keep Kenton’s ultimatum to herself. The team wouldn’t take it well, and she needed all their concentration on the case, not fretting about deadlines.

  Chapter Six

  Back in the incident room, Elwyn had put up photos on the board showing the narrow tunnel where the body was found, and the interior of the mill. The images of the victim and how he’d been left made Rachel shudder. The sooner they caught the killer, the better.

  “Amy, will you check the system for any similar killings? Anything that correlates to what we’ve got here,” Rachel said.

  “We’ve had a hit on the bank card,” Jonny said. “Rita Pearce works at the Spinners Arms on Shawcross Street. She reported it stolen nearly three years ago and had it cancelled.”

  “The timescale fits and that pub is across from the mill,” Rachel noted. “In fact, me and Elwyn were in there earlier.” She caught the Welshman’s eye. “Time to go back, I think, have a proper word with the staff.” She looked at Jonny. “Do we have the date she cancelled it?”

  “Yes, it’s the same week as the one on the newspaper Jude has.”

  “Do we know when we can have a closer look at the area where the body was found?” she asked Elwyn.

  “It’s a health and safety problem apparently. Until they’ve given the all-clear, no one can get close, not even forensics.”

  Amy was sifting through a list on a printout. “I’m trying to find out exactly who rented those units,” she said. “I’m waiting for the Shawcross Estate office to ring me back with more information.

  “When they do, tell them we’ll be needing a word. Find out who we need to speak to. We’ll get the estate’s take on this, find out why they shut the units and have allowed the mill to rot. In fact, anyone who had anything to do with that mill i
n the last three years must be interviewed. Help her with the research, Jonny, and stay on it until you get what we need.”

  She had to say something about Kenton. They’d all seen him earlier and were no doubt curious. Telling them he was their new boss would not go down well.

  “We have a permanent replacement for Harding,” she announced. “Mark Kenton.” She paused for a moment to let the news sink in. Their faces said it all. She was right, they weren’t happy. “He’ll be more hands-on than Harding. Until we get the measure of exactly how things will change, we’ll just have to watch our step.”

  “You should have gone for it, ma’am,” Jonny said. “You’d have been great. I think you made a big mistake there, if you don’t mind me saying.”

  She tried to shrug it off, but he was right. The post had come up just when she was least able to go for it. “Well it’s too late now, Jonny. And please believe me when I say I have my own reasons for leaving the job well alone.” She knew there was bound to be a debate about that once she left the office.

  * * *

  “Kenton’s been lunching with Jed,” Rachel told Elwyn. “What do you imagine that pair had to talk about?”

  “You,” he said without hesitation.

  “Perhaps, but unlikely as it may seem, I think that the two of them are friends and have known each other for a while. They collaborated, remember, during the Rafferty case. Jed went along with being labelled as the bad guy and scarpered off to Spain.”

  Daniel Rafferty was the man behind the people trafficking Kenton had been investigating when his and Rachel’s paths had first crossed. Kenton and Jed had lulled the villain into a false sense of security by making it appear that Jed was the prime suspect in the case. That allowed Rafferty to take stock and resume his business, secure in the belief that the police hadn’t a clue about what was really going on. The ruse had worked, and now Rafferty was safely behind bars. That was as it should be, but what bothered Rachel was the friendship that had developed between Jed and her new boss.

  With Elwyn behind the wheel, the two detectives made their way to the Spinners Arms on Shawcross Street. Rachel was distracted, her thoughts anywhere but on the case. Elwyn Pryce had known her long enough to guess her state of mind.

  “You need to sort it,” he said, “and as soon as possible. You tell Jed about the baby and you arrange your maternity leave with Kenton.”

  Kenton! Rachel could well imagine what he’d make of it. She could see the smirk on his face and hear the sarcasm in his voice as he quizzed her about Jed.

  “Leave it, Elwyn. I’ll sort things in my own time.”

  “Well, get it done pronto, that’s my advice.”

  Rachel didn’t like Elwyn’s tone. It had an edge to it, which was unusual for him. “I’ll leave things until I’ve at least had a scan, if you don’t mind,” she said. “It’s all still uncertain, anything might happen. You may have forgotten but I’ve got a big birthday later this year. I’ll be forty years old by the time I give birth. Mother nature, in her wisdom, meant for women to reproduce long before they reach that age. I could well be going to the antenatal clinic with women half my age. And I don’t like being told what to do, even by you, Elwyn.”

  “You’re worried, that’s what it is, isn’t it?” he said. “Plenty of women in their forties have babies. You’ve no need to be anxious, Rachel. But it makes no sense to struggle on pretending it isn’t happening. You can’t take for ever to think it out.”

  Elwyn had no idea. To him, it was a simple matter. But the reality was that having a baby would change her life. Plus, telling her daughters and ex-husband about it could well shatter their world.

  “Jed and Kenton I can handle, it’s telling Alan and the kids that’s scaring the hell out of me,” she admitted. “How’s Alan going to react? The poor man’s done nothing but support me and the kids. Even though we’re divorced, he works from home so he can be there for the girls. He never complains, he shops, cooks and sorts stuff out so that things at home go smoothly even when I’m not there. He’ll want to know everything, and then the kids will ask questions. Who can blame them? I’d be the same. As far as they’re concerned, I don’t have a man in my life. I daren’t mention Jed. Mia is already suspicious about him. She asked me outright if he was her real dad.”

  “I didn’t say it’d be easy, but you can’t keep it secret. Give it a few weeks and they’ll see for themselves that you’re pregnant, and then they’ll want to know why you didn’t tell them.”

  They were pulling on to Shawcross Street, so they’d have to put an end to the conversation for now. Nevertheless, Elwyn wanted to get his point across. “You might consider telling Mia the truth, you know. You’d save yourself a lot of stress if it was all out in the open.”

  “You think so?” she retorted. “Sometimes, Elwyn, you just don’t get it.”

  Chapter Seven

  Rita Pearce kept herself to herself. She’d lived in the area a long time, knew everyone and most of what went on but had learned the hard way that silence was the best bet. To those who spoke to her in passing, Rita might appear reserved or even shy, but that wasn’t it. Rita was married to a brute of a man and daren’t say a word out of place, fearing for her own safety and that of her daughter, Jasmine. Not that Jaz couldn’t stick up for herself. She was feisty and gave as good as she got. The problem was, Ray had no qualms about lashing out at either of them.

  As landlady of the Spinners Arms, she heard a lot of gossip. While she worked behind the bar, people told her things, but she made it a rule not to pass comment. “A good listener,” folk called her, and that was fine by Rita. No one knew the truth of what she endured except Kath Madison, one of the barmaids and her friend. She’d seen the bruises on Rita’s face, and the attempts to cover her husband’s handiwork with make-up. Kath asked questions but got little in return. Until the night Ray broke Ruth’s arm, that was, and Kath took her to A & E. Kath tried to persuade her friend to leave the animal. But Rita refused, made excuses, said he’d promised to change. But he never did.

  * * *

  When Rachel and Elwyn arrived, Rita was on duty behind the bar. Around fifty, she was tall, her short dark hair not yet greying. She eyed the two strangers warily. Rachel had seen that look before and had often wondered how people sensed who they were before they had spoken a single word.

  “We’re looking for Rita Pearce, the landlady,” Rachel said.

  Rita smiled tentatively. “That’s me.”

  “DCI King and DS Pryce from East Manchester CID.” Rachel reached into her pocket for her mobile and showed Rita an image of the leather jacket and bank card. “The bank card is yours. Can you tell us how it came to be in the pocket of this jacket?”

  Rita Pearce stared at the images, and her mouth fell open. “Where did you find it after all this time? I thought that was gone for ever.”

  “How did it go missing?” Rachel asked. She watched the woman’s eyes dart about the room. She was tense about something. When she realised the pub was empty except for the three of them, she seemed to relax slightly.

  She pointed to the hallway. “If I’d been shopping, I used to hang my bag and coat on a hook behind the door there. The bag was hidden from view but the debit card was inside. I always presumed it was stolen one night when I was working. I didn’t notice it was gone until I was at the supermarket on the Friday afternoon. I searched everywhere, thinking I’d lost it. But when other things went missing, stuff belonging to customers, I finally had to admit the truth. We had a thief. But I couldn’t think of anyone who’d want to steal from me. I cancelled the card the day after I discovered it was gone. I was lucky, it hadn’t been used.”

  Elwyn showed her the image of the jacket. “Do you know who might have owned this? It’s got lettering on the back. Our forensics people will clean it up, but you might have seen it before.”

  Rita shook her head. “Sorry, no. It might have belonged to a customer, but I don’t recognise it.”

  “We wer
e told that at one time there were a number of units on the ground floor of the mill over there. There was a man working with leather I believe,” Elwyn said. “Could it one of his?”

  Rita nodded. “It could be. The jacket looks like a one-off, which was his speciality.”

  “Do you recall his name?” Rachel asked.

  “No. All sorts of craftspeople rented space over there. The place was booming at one time. But they didn’t last long, a few months, and then they all had to leave.”

  “Why was that?” asked Rachel.

  “Shawcross,” Rita said. “One day his manager turned up and gave them all notice, told them in no uncertain terms to clear off. The place has been empty ever since.”

  A teenage girl came up to the bar and stood beside Rita. “You okay, Mum?” she asked, scowling at Rachel.

  “Fine, love. These are police officers. They found my bank card. Remember, it went missing?” She turned to Rachel and Elwyn. “This is my daughter, Jasmine.”

  “Tell us about the night your card was stolen,” Elwyn said.

  “I’m not really sure. It could have been any time that week, and it was three years ago anyway. We get all sorts in here, it could have been anyone.”

  “Do you have any suspicions about who might have taken it?”

  “No. Back then, with the mill being so busy, we were packed every night. Not like these days.” She gave them a quizzical look. “Why the interest now? I reported it at the time but back then you lot didn’t want to know.”

  The girl folded her arms and glared at them. “Yeah, go on. Why now?”

  “I expect you’ll have heard about the body found in the mill?” Elwyn said. Rita nodded. “Your debit card was found on him.”

  Rita Pearce turned pale. “You think the victim stole my card?”

  “Do you know who he is?” Rachel asked.

  “No. How could I? Whatever went on over there had nothing to do with me.”

  “We’re not accusing you of anything, Rita,” Rachel said gently. “You live and work around here, people use this pub, you’d notice if someone suddenly stopped coming in. Do you recall anyone like that?”