Before Her Eyes

by Jack Jordan

  She covered her mouth with the back of her hand as though the Scotch was going to lurch back up, and shook her head.

  ‘I didn’t know what to do. I was so young and stupid, I thought Hayley and I would be in trouble if we told our parents. I’m so angry with myself now for what I did, but I was so scared and shocked that I did the only thing that would make me feel safe. I went home.’

  ‘You didn’t report the incident to the police?’

  ‘I went the next day. I gave them the watch and a witness statement. They took a photo of my bruised ribs, the bump on my head. I was covered in scratches from the struggle. They said they’d go to Hayley’s house to get her side of the story.

  ‘I couldn’t go home again. I was too scared, in case my mum found out. I’d managed to avoid her that morning, but I knew she would be there when I got home. She’d only have to look at me to see something was wrong. I sat up on the cliff and waited until the sun set, then I went to Hayley’s house.’

  Tears shimmered in her eyes. Her chin trembled.

  ‘Hayley denied it,’ she said, and looked down at her lap, shedding tears on her jeans. ‘She lied to the police. She told me that if she admitted that she’d been raped, they would do tests and examinations, tests that would confirm she was pregnant.’

  ‘Hayley was pregnant?’

  ‘It was either Dane’s or Blake’s. She had slept with Blake after breaking up with Dane. Her father would have killed her if he’d found out. He was a raging alcoholic and handy with his fists. Her mother lived in his shadow. So she denied it to protect herself from her own family.’

  Marcus thought of his father. He would have acted the same way as Hayley at her age. Men like their fathers longed for a reason to use their fists. A truth like that could have killed her.

  ‘She was scared that the police wouldn’t believe her because of her reputation, and how the boys might have spun it. It was all of their voices against ours. We had gone to that party voluntarily, put ourselves in that situation. The boys all came from good families. Hayley didn’t. It’s a small town, Detective, and you’ve seen for yourself how quickly the community can turn on someone. Hayley was terrified they would hate her for reporting them.

  ‘I was so angry. I had seen Blake rape her, and the others waiting their turn, and suddenly I’d have to meet them in the street, and remember what they’d done every time I looked into their eyes. I begged her to tell the truth, but she wouldn’t. I called her a coward and stormed out of the house. Hayley called after me and pleaded with me not to tell. Her mother was just coming up the drive and I pushed past her when she asked if I was all right. The next day, Hayley disappeared.’

  Grace released a shudder of a breath, wet from tears.

  ‘I looked into Hayley’s case, Grace. There wasn’t a report on the rape.’

  ‘That’s because Blake’s father stepped in.’

  She wiped her tears and blinked furiously. Her jaw clenched beneath the skin.

  ‘The day after Hayley went missing, Mr Crouch had a police officer collect me from my home and bring me to the police station. I was locked inside an interview room. He told me he had got rid of the report of the rape, the photos of my injuries, and the watch. He made them all disappear to protect his son, in case the rape was linked to her disappearance. He threatened me, Detective. He said he could frame me as easily as he could make evidence vanish.’

  ‘Nathan Crouch threatened you?’

  She nodded, trembling in the chair.

  ‘And you never told anyone?’

  ‘Who were they going to believe? The head of police or the girl who argued with the missing girl the night before she disappeared?’

  She sighed into her hands, then poured herself another drink. She was shaking so badly that most of the Scotch missed the glass. She knocked it back, and when she lowered her head, Marcus saw that the alcohol had hit her. Her eyes were swimming.

  ‘But when the murders happened, when Naomi and your brother-in-law were arrested, and the watch was found in the woods …’

  ‘I have a family of my own, Detective. I wasn’t going to be framed for Hayley’s disappearance. Blake’s a cop himself now. He is just as capable of setting me up as his father was. I have children to protect. They need their mother.’

  ‘Did Naomi know any of this? Is this why the killer harassed her?’

  ‘She knew that Hayley and I fought, but not the reason why.’

  ‘Was anyone else aware that she knew of the falling-out?’

  ‘Yes.’ She downed another drink and coughed as it burned her throat. Marcus reached across and took the bottle away. ‘Nathan Crouch knew. He warned me to keep Naomi quiet.’

  ‘So if Blake’s father knew, that means that …’

  ‘Blake knew too.’

  Something must have happened for Blake to think the truth was going to come out.

  ‘But that still doesn’t explain why Cassie and Amber died,’ he said.

  Grace hesitated. ‘They came to me.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Cassie and Amber, they came to me about a month ago, asking about Hayley.’

  He wanted to shake her, ask her why the hell she hadn’t reported it to the police after their murders, but he bit down on his tongue and clenched the arms of the chair.

  ‘They were looking into her disappearance. Cassie was a reporter and wanted to crack the story, said it would land her a job in London for one of the top newspapers. Amber wanted to make detective, and thought solving the case would get her there quicker. Cassie had the investigative skills, and Amber had the resources.’

  ‘How did they know to come to you?’

  ‘Amber found a copy of my witness statement reporting the rape. Blake’s father obviously didn’t hide the evidence well enough. She and Cassie suspected that one of the boys had killed Hayley to keep her quiet about the rape. They wanted me to go to the police again. I told them to keep me out of it.’

  ‘And then they were both murdered.’

  She eyed the bottle in his hand, and then her empty glass.

  ‘You kept all of this quiet, even when they were killed? When your sister was arrested and then nearly died?’

  ‘Are you a parent, Detective?’ She looked up at him and read the answer in his eyes. ‘I didn’t think so. You have no idea what it means to protect your children. If Blake framed me, my children would lose their mother. I will always put them first, before myself or anyone. My father died when I was just a baby. I know how life-shattering it is to lose a parent. I would never let my children go through that.’

  ‘Why tell me now?’

  She struggled to compose herself, taking a deep, rattling breath and wiping away the tears.

  ‘Because I’m sick of looking over my shoulder. I live in the same town as those rapists, Detective. I see them every day, on the school run, at the supermarket, crossing the street. They look at me with such hate, as if they are telling me to keep my mouth shut, like every glare is a threat to me and my family. I’m sick of swallowing down this secret. It makes me ill, physically ill, whenever I see them, even after twenty years.’

  She sobbed into her hands and slumped back in the chair.

  Marcus clenched his teeth until blood rushed in his ears. If Grace had spoken to him sooner, they might have been able to save Amber’s life. Naomi wouldn’t have found her body, the night her harassment began. All of this could have been avoided. But he wasn’t angry with Grace; he was angry at the system he was a part of that stopped victims from coming forward. No one should fear the repercussions of rape as much as the act itself.

  He stood up, placed the glass on a side table, and left the house, shutting the front door behind him.

  SIXTY-FIVE

  Marcus stepped into the office and listened to the silence ringing through the room.

  He looked down at Amber’s desk, where her belongings were gathering dust. None of them had wanted to clear them away. Photos were pressed into the back of the room
separator with pins; one lone red pin had a piece of a Polaroid print stuck around it, as though the photo had been ripped off in a hurry. A pink coffee mug filled with pens sat behind the computer monitor.

  Marcus pulled at the drawer beneath the desk. It was locked, but he had prepared for that. He placed the crowbar between the groove of the drawer and the desktop and pushed down until it cracked open, spitting splinters of wood in the air. The crowbar dropped to the floor with a clang as he ripped the drawer free and emptied out the contents.

  Paper clips, Post-it notes and pens clattered onto the desk, and paperwork flittered to the floor, darting under desks and across the lino. A photo stared up at him, the top of it torn where it had been ripped from sight and stuffed into the drawer. It showed Amber and Cassie slurping on cocktails and giving the camera the peace sign.

  He locked the photo in his own desk drawer and scrabbled around for the fallen paperwork, then leafed through the pages, scanning the words until the backs of his eyes burned. At last he found what he was after: the copy of the rape report.

  Grace had been right. Cassie and Amber had been looking into Hayley’s disappearance. And if she was right about that, she was right about Blake.

  Marcus looked up to the doorway of the kitchen and remembered the argument Blake and Amber had had just before she was murdered.

  Tell me what to do. Please, just tell me what I should do.

  Why should I help you? What you did could have destroyed my marriage, my career. I don’t owe you anything.

  Had Blake caught her looking into the case?

  He got up from the floor with the report shaking in one hand and his phone pressed to his ear with the other. He tapped his foot as the phone rang. He didn’t even give Billy a chance to finish his greeting.

  ‘Billy, pick Kate up and meet me at the station. I don’t care how late it is, you need to get here now … And dress for duty. We’ll need handcuffs.’

  SIXTY-SIX

  Marcus stood on Blake’s doorstep and rang the doorbell. He took one last look down the street at the patrol car; Billy and Kate were waiting to drive up and park in front of the house once he was inside.

  The lights were on behind the curtains in the living room, illuminating the hallway. When a shadow of a figure appeared behind the glass panels in the front door, his heart began to race. This was it.

  A dark-haired woman stood in the doorway in silk pyjamas; her face was clear of make-up, revealing every fine line.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘My name is Detective Sergeant Marcus Campbell. I’m here to speak to Blake.’

  ‘It’s very late. We were just about to put my father-in-law to bed.’

  ‘He might want to stay up for this.’

  She hesitated before calling Blake’s name over her shoulder.

  Blake appeared from a doorway off the hall and froze when he saw him.

  ‘Go to bed, Elaine,’ he said as he approached the door.

  ‘But I need to help with your father—’

  ‘I said go to bed,’ he snapped. ‘Don’t come down unless I tell you to.’

  She eyed her husband, appearing both offended and frightened by his tone, before turning for the stairs. She glanced back at Marcus in the doorway as she ascended into the darkness of the first floor.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Blake asked.

  ‘You know what I’m doing here.’

  Blake looked ill, and Marcus knew why. His secrets, everything he had done, had been eating away at him from the inside. He looked like he belonged in the morgue, not standing on his own two feet in his doorway.

  ‘Are you going to let me in?’

  Blake moved aside. Marcus stepped into the house and followed him towards the lit room.

  Nathan Crouch was sitting in a recliner chair in the bay window with a tobacco pipe dangling from his mouth. He was an old man, over eighty now. His head was bald except for a few tufts of white hair, with liver spots on his scalp. His face was creased with wrinkles and spider veins. He pushed his glasses up his nose, and closed the book nestled on his lap.

  ‘And you are?’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Marcus Campbell.’

  The man’s face went white. He’d heard of him. Marcus wondered if Blake still ran to his father to clean up his messes.

  ‘What’s this about, Blake?’ Nathan asked.

  ‘It’s about your secret,’ Marcus interjected. ‘And the repercussions it’s caused. I’d sit down, Blake.’

  ‘Don’t tell me to sit down in my own house.’

  ‘Listen to the man, Blake,’ his father said. ‘He obviously thinks he has something important to say. Let’s hear it.’

  Although Nathan Crouch was an old man, he still had an air of authority, as though he was the most important person in the room.

  Blake sat down reluctantly with his eyes on Marcus.

  ‘I know what you’ve done. Both of you. I know about the rape, the corruption, the hidden evidence.’

  ‘I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Nathan Crouch said. ‘You must have made a mist—’

  ‘Let me refresh your memory.’ Marcus took a document from his bag and handed it to the old man. ‘Here’s the witness statement that was taken from Grace Porter, Grace Kennedy’s maiden name, after your son and his buddies raped Hayley Miller in this very house, the house that used to belong to you. The very statement that was taken before you hid the evidence, attempted to destroy any record of the incident, and threatened to frame a teenage girl for Hayley’s disappearance to protect your own son.’

  Nathan stared down at the report. The paper was shaking in his hands.

  ‘This is impossible,’ he said. His confidence had vanished. ‘I got rid of it …’

  ‘Not well enough. Amber O’Neill found a copy. That’s why you killed her, isn’t it, Blake?’

  ‘What?’ Nathan exclaimed.

  Blake looked sick. His Adam’s apple was dancing up and down his throat. His shoulders were shaking.

  ‘It’s what you and Amber argued about just hours before she was murdered.’

  Nathan looked between the pair of them, his yellow eyes twitching in his skull.

  ‘You had discovered she was working on Hayley’s case with Cassie Jennings, the local reporter, who you killed off first. You knew they were close to discovering the truth: that you murdered Hayley to keep her quiet about the rape, maybe even the pregnancy – because there was a chance the baby was yours, wasn’t there? You confronted Amber that night in the office, and then you followed her home and killed her.’

  ‘Dad, don’t listen to him. He’s lying.’

  ‘You couldn’t let the murders lead back to the crime that started it all – the rape and murder of Hayley Miller. So, like father like son, you had to find someone to frame.’

  ‘Shut your mouth,’ Blake spat as he stood. ‘Dad, don’t listen to this horseshit.’

  ‘That’s why you set Dane up. He was the only one of your friends with a matching watch who hadn’t been at the party that night, who hadn’t taken part in the brutal rape of a teenage girl. So you followed Josie and Naomi into the woods, attacked Josie and left the watch behind, knowing that Dane would be a prime suspect in the attempt to kill his partner as she attacked his ex-wife, especially as he had a sexual history with the two women you had already killed. You framed your childhood best friend to save your own back.

  ‘And best of all, you were at the heart of the investigation. You knew each lead as it came in. You could cover your tracks before we even got a whiff of them.’

  ‘Blake?’ his father asked, trembling in the recliner chair. ‘Is this true?’

  ‘I told you not to listen to this horseshit!’ Blake spat, so loudly that his father cowered in his chair.

  ‘I didn’t rape Hayley,’ he said as he turned back to Marcus, his whole body shaking. ‘She was begging for it. Craved it. She was making her way through the town. We were just taking our turn.’

  ‘What
did you do with her body, Blake?’

  Blake walked closer to Marcus until their noses were almost touching and their eyes locked. Marcus saw the familiar rage there, the same rage he had seen before Blake had thrown the first punch in Lisa’s office. He knew what was coming, and braced every muscle.

  ‘Where did you bury her, Blake?’ he whispered, inhaling the taste of the man’s breath. ‘After you raped her, and slit her throat, how did you dispose of the body?’

  The punch came fast, cracking against Marcus’s nose and knocking him to the floor. Marcus let it happen. He let the punches rain on top of his skull until his blood splattered on the carpet. He let the feet stamp on his ribs and his chest. He watched from swelling eyes as Blake’s wife burst into the room, screaming at him to stop, and was thrown to the floor by her husband’s hands. Her nightshirt ripped open, exposing a pale white breast. He listened to the banging on the door between kicks, and watched as Elaine clutched her shirt together in a fist and darted into the hall.

  Blake was tackled to the carpet and pinned onto his front as Kate drew his hands behind his back, handcuffed his wrists and read him his rights.

  As Billy checked his injuries, Marcus locked eyes with Nathan Crouch, who looked so much smaller in the chair now. He raised his bloody hand to move his shirt aside and reveal the small microphone taped to his chest, and watched the old man sob into his hands.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  Naomi woke up to a throbbing in her abdomen, as though a second heart had been stitched beneath the skin. Her skin felt taut and immovable.

  Tubes slithered in and out of her. Oxygen hissed into her nostrils. A catheter burned between her legs. An IV was threaded into a vein in her hand. A thick tube was drawing something wet out of her abdomen and gargling on her insides. She wanted to rip them all away, but wondered what would be left of her if she did.

  ‘Hello?’ Her voice was croaky. She held her neck to ease the burning. The heart monitor clip on her finger was cold.

  ‘Ni …’ Grace said. Her voice was thick from crying. She sniffed loudly and took her hand. ‘How are you feeling?’ she asked.