Isolated

by M. A. Hunter

  So you admit you were the one who set all this up? You put your granddaughter’s life at risk in order to force Richard out of your family?

  ‘Fitzhume is responsible for Cassie Hilliard’s abduction,’ I blurt out like some paranoid Twitter user.

  Jack glances through the windscreen at Richard as we move past him. ‘I’m listening.’

  I take a deep breath to try and steady my rapidly rising pulse. ‘It all makes sense, don’t you see? Leroy Denton told us that the group had some rich backer who was calling the shots but he didn’t know who that was. I bet if you ask Hank Amos whether he reached out to Lord Fitzhume and demanded more money, I bet he’ll admit he did. That’s what set these wheels in motion. That’s why Fitzhume came to me now, not because it happened to be the anniversary of Cassie’s abduction, but because he didn’t want to pay a second ransom.’

  Jack doesn’t look convinced by my argument but switches off the car stereo so he can give me what’s left of his attention. ‘Amos said he didn’t know who the rich backer was either. Do you have anything evidential to support your theory? What makes you so certain?’

  Her life should never have been in any danger. They were paid enough to take good care of her.

  ‘Fitzhume admitted as much to me,’ I say resolutely.

  ‘He did? You got him on the record?’

  I again silently curse myself for not having the recorder on my phone running when I confronted him – not that it would necessarily have been strong enough evidence to go to trial.

  ‘Not exactly, but he did admit his involvement to me, and I’m prepared to make an official statement to that effect if that’s what it takes.’

  I don’t know whether Jack realises his entire face has taken a sceptical downward turn, or whether he’s just doing a lousy job of covering his doubt.

  ‘Okay, I’ll put a call in to DCS Rawani and we’ll see if it’s enough to make him bite.’

  ‘Make him bite?’ I scoff. ‘You need to get someone over there right away and haul him out of his fake celebration in cuffs. Wipe that permanent smirk from his face.’

  Jack catches my eye apologetically. ‘You know it isn’t that easy. I wish it were. I wish you making a statement about what he told you would be enough to prosecute but it’ll be his word against yours, and whilst your name is one of good standing, his background, links to the Royal Family and unlimited connections trump you.’

  This isn’t the reaction I expected to hear from Jack. I know we haven’t known each other very long, but I thought I understood him.

  ‘Fitzhume is guilty as hell and someone needs to bring about his downfall,’ I spit. ‘If you won’t take action then I’ll just bloody well have to do something about it myself.’

  I’m already asking myself exactly how I could complete such a course of action when Jack’s scepticism returns. But rather than berate me, he reaches for my hand and holds it for a moment.

  ‘I don’t doubt what you’re telling me, Emma, but I’m just trying to be realistic. We both reviewed the case file and there was nothing to link Fitzhume to the three kidnappers, one of whom is dead, and the other two now behind bars. Even if Amos came clean and pointed the finger at Fitzhume, the CPS would need something physical before even considering charges.’

  ‘So, what? He goes free?’

  Jack opens his mouth to speak before thinking better of it.

  ‘Are you seriously telling me that because Fitzhume has money and power he’s allowed to get away with his crimes?’

  Again, Jack opens his mouth to challenge, but raises his eyebrows in defeat instead. ‘As I said, I promise I will discuss it with the DCS once I’m back and if we’re lucky he’ll allow me to do some discreet digging, but something tells me that Fitzhume won’t have left any trail leading back to him – particularly if his military history is anything to go by.’

  I pull my hand away and stare out of the window like a petulant teenager. I’m so fed up with people getting away with their crimes because of their so-called power and connections. I know my outlook is naïve, but shouldn’t the guilty be punished?

  Fitzhume’s final words to me rattle in my head. You dare print a word of this and I will have you brought up on charges of libellous defamation.

  Of course! As far as my publisher and agent Maddie are aware, I will be writing all about Cassie’s disappearance and subsequent return for my second book. The idea has been signed off by the publisher and they’ll be expecting me to deliver at least a first draft in the coming months. If the police won’t take any formal action against Fitzhume then the only recourse is to tell the truth in my manuscript and see where that leads. Right now, I don’t care if he does decide to take me to court over it; at least the truth will be in the public domain and people will realise what a snake he is.

  I know there’s no point continuing the argument with Jack. We have two hours of driving ahead that I don’t want to spend in silence and my thoughts now turn back to the reason for our journey.

  ‘You said you’ve spoken to Turgood already today?’

  Jack sighs, and nods. ‘As soon as the facial recognition software found a positive match to your sister. I wanted to find out what he knew and hopefully be the one to help your private investigation along. To be clear, the software didn’t flag a hundred per cent match. What you need to appreciate is that the footage used to run the check was old and grainy – probably recorded on a handheld camcorder rather than more advanced equipment. The angle of her face in the clips we used wasn’t straight-on either, so it’s only as good as it can be.’

  ‘Yeah, but you said it was a ninety-two per cent match though, right? That’s as good as a hundred in my book.’

  He shrugs. ‘It’s a strong match, which would lead me to conclude it probably is your sister.’

  My heart strains at the news. For the last twenty years, I’ve hoped my sister didn’t die the day she stomped away from home in the direction of our grandma’s before vanishing. A part of me – the part I desperately try to silence and ignore – accepted that she could have died, but from what Jack has said, the footage he’s found all but confirms she was alive some four years after she disappeared. That has to give hope that she could still be alive today.

  ‘What did Turgood say when you spoke to him?’ I ask now, pins and needles prickling at my thighs and forearms.

  ‘He said he didn’t recognise her name and that he hadn’t watched all of the videos on his hard drive. He claims not to recall the particular video in question, but admits to sharing such videos with others and said that it could have been inadvertently included in his stock. He was being very vague, and without a solicitor present he was cagey.’

  I remember the first time I met Turgood and presented him with Freddie’s allegations. He laughed me out of his home, ridiculing the claims as nothing more than spiteful lies. But I’d known he was lying. When I’d first arrived, under the pretence that I was undertaking an investigation into why government cuts were closing valued social care facilities like St Francis, he’d welcomed me with open arms. But the moment I’d mentioned Freddie’s name, the atmosphere turned decidedly cold, as if someone had opened a window. He’d crossed his legs, folded his arms, and avoided answering my questions. His reaction had given me all the confirmation I needed to keep digging. That’s why I need to look into his eyes today and see what happens when I mention my sister. His body language will tell me whether or not he’s lying.

  The car grinds to a halt as we join the end of a tailback on the M40. Jack curses quietly as his eyes fall on the long line of brake lights stretching as far as the eye can see.

  ‘What else did he say?’ I ask.

  Jack sighs. ‘He said he wouldn’t be surprised to see the faces of a host of missing children appear in those videos. He said there’s an entire network operating along the south coast. Your sister might be just the tip of an iceberg that stretches back decades.’

  I turn so I can study Jack’s face. ‘Did you belie
ve him?’

  The grimace confirms that he did, even if he didn’t want to.

  He meets my gaze. ‘He didn’t offer any specifics, but my next job will be to request the same facial recognition software is run against any other open missing-children cases to see if further matches can be established.’

  I catch sight of the ETA on the sat nav display and my heart sinks. It now says we’re unlikely to arrive before half past four, and if we don’t, my chance to get an answer will certainly end for today.

  ‘Isn’t there an alternative route we can take?’ I snap.

  Jack begins to fiddle with the sat nav. ‘Maybe… Once we get to the next junction, we can try to get off the M40 and find a detour, but we’re on the slip road, so like it or not, we’re trapped on this course for now.’

  I sit on my hands as my blood boils with frustration. I don’t tell him, but I sense his words may be more prophetic than he realises.

  Chapter Three

  Now

  HMP Stafford, Staffordshire

  We finally make it in through the gates of the prison and into the visitor car park just after four. I’m conscious about how long it may take to get through the sign-in process in the visitors’ centre, so as Jack is applying the handbrake, my hand is already on the door handle.

  ‘Hold on a sec, will you?’ he cautions, killing the engine. ‘Before you go in there, are you sure you want to?’

  I frown at the unnecessary delay. ‘I wouldn’t have come with you if I wasn’t.’

  ‘I know, I know, but I kind of put you on the spot when I turned up this afternoon. I didn’t give you the opportunity to say no. This will be the first time you’ve seen Turgood since his trial. Are you sure you’re ready? Mentally prepared, I mean.’

  My chest tightens as I picture his face in the dock. Even when his whole world was about to come tumbling down, there wasn’t an ounce of remorse in his eyes. I wanted to laugh at him, and tell him how good it felt to see justice finally being delivered for Freddie, Mike and Steve. Yet, when the verdict was delivered, I didn’t feel any pleasure whatsoever. I have no doubt he finally got what he deserved, but at what cost to Freddie and the others? How many other children suffered at the hands of Turgood and his cohorts but didn’t feel brave enough to come forward and have their lives put under the microscope?

  I exhale deeply. ‘The video on his hard drive is the biggest breakthrough I’ve had in years. I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t see it through.’

  Jack nods in reluctant acceptance. ‘Very well. The governor is arranging a private room for you to meet him in and I’ll be there with you, but as a friend rather than in any formal capacity. I’ll hang back so the two of you can speak freely, but I want to warn you to be careful.’

  The words catch in my throat. ‘Careful?’

  Jack momentarily looks out of his window as if summoning the strength to speak again. ‘It’s going to be weird enough for you coming face to face with him again, but remember it’s his first time seeing you since the trial too. Since he last saw you, he’s been sentenced to spend the rest of his life behind bars. Okay, in a facility specifically used to house sexual offenders, he won’t be subjected to the level of violence and recrimination he might have experienced at another Cat-C facility, but it will still be a sharp change to the lifestyle he was used to.’ He sighs. ‘What I’m trying to say is that he will hold you accountable for this change to his circumstances, and he’s had weeks to think about what he might say to you in the event your paths ever crossed again.’

  ‘Sticks and stones may break my bones,’ I mutter, prising the door open, until he reaches for my arm.

  ‘I’m saying, don’t let him get a rise out of you. Right now, you’re in shock with what I’ve told you and you need to keep a clear head in there. Ask him what you want to ask him but don’t take whatever he says to heart.’

  I fix him with a firm stare and nod. ‘I’ll be fine. Now, can we get a move on before they say we’re too late?’

  Exiting the car, we hurry through the car park and into the visitor centre. Jack explains who we are to the guard at the desk, who then asks us both to provide identification. Once he’s found us on the computer screen, he makes us sign the register and invites us to deposit any personal items in one of the lockers that line the wall at the side of the building. Once they’re satisfied we’re not carrying any weapons or contraband, one of the guards escorts us through the gates, along a narrow windowless corridor, and into the beating heart of the facility.

  We arrive at a steel door, reminiscent of a cell door in a police station. Outside the room there is a monitor receiving a signal from a camera within the room. It currently displays a table and three chairs but it doesn’t appear that Turgood has been brought down yet. The prison guard who escorted us advises that he will wait outside the room and will observe us from the monitor, though won’t be able to hear anything said. He tells us he is there for the prisoner’s protection as much as our own.

  Unlocking the door, he ushers us inside before closing and locking the door behind us. The room itself is brighter than it appeared on the screen. There are high windows, all barred, which let in a surprising volume of light given how narrow they are. Jack selects one of the chairs and carries it towards the back of the room before sitting.

  My breathing is shallow and as I drop onto the remaining chair this side of the table, I feel lightheaded. I’ve been forcing images of Turgood watching Anna out of my mind but now it’s all I can imagine, and I want to be sick. Overhead, a fan whirs somewhere out of sight, pumping artificially cooled air into the room, but it is doing little to quell the heat in my face and neck.

  There is a crunch and a grinding noise as the door on the opposite side of the room is unlocked, and when it opens a moment later, another uniformed guard steps through and checks Jack and I are both seated before nodding for Turgood to step forward. The prisoner waits for his cuffs to be removed before sauntering into the room, his eyes practically on stalks as he sees me sitting and waiting like an obedient dog.

  He doesn’t utter a word, merely sliding onto the seat across the table from me and crossing one leg over the other. His almost white hair has grown out more since I last saw him and it looks as though he’s made no effort to brush it ahead of this meeting. The pale-blue prison shirt and denim trousers make his face look washed out, and yet he still carries himself with an air of superiority, to the point where it almost feels like he is the one who has come to visit me.

  I look to Jack for guidance but see that his head is bent and he is staring at his shoes. Turning back to face Turgood, I’m not sure whether I should speak first or wait for him to engage me. I don’t even know how to start, short of demanding answers about my sister.

  He doesn’t speak either, his tongue poking out to wet his lips but then receding. It’s like he’s daring me to crack first and break the awkward silence. Unlike him, I don’t have time to waste.

  ‘You know why I’m here,’ I croak, before clearing my throat. ‘I want to know what you can tell me about the video discovered on your hard drive.’

  He stretches out one of his hands and considers each nail, as if he’s awaiting a manicure, before wetting his lips again and finally meeting my stare. ‘What video would that be then?’

  He’s baiting me, waiting to see my reaction when I mention Anna’s name, and I know instantly this is going to be every bit as difficult as Jack has forewarned.

  It takes all my strength to summon the words. ‘The video featuring my sister, Anna.’

  His lips momentarily curl up slightly before he remembers where he is. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know to what you’re referring. Are you sure it was a video on my hard drive?’

  I glance back to Jack but he is lost in his own world.

  ‘We both know which video I’m referring to,’ I say, biting my tongue.

  ‘I can’t say I do. Maybe if you could describe it that would—’

  ‘Cut the crap, Turgood.
The only reason I’m here is to appeal to that tiny part of your soul that cannot forgive you for the atrocities you inflicted on others.’

  I had hoped it would feel better to blow off steam, but his reaction is one of mirth rather than fear or annoyance.

  He leans forwards, crossing one hand over the other, resting them on his pointed knee, as if he’s posing for a photograph. ‘Have you seen the video?’

  I hear Jack’s warning echo in my mind: don’t let him get a rise out of you.

  ‘Where did it come from?’ I ask, ignoring his jibe.

  He sits back. ‘Alas, several years ago, my computer became infected with a malicious virus online, and the result was the downloading of a variety of disturbing videos and images that I tried to delete but which were so embedded that I didn’t manage to. That’s why the hard drives were in my loft when the authorities discovered them, you see? I’m no technical expert, but I assumed I’d one day find someone who could remove the virus and recover the original content of the drives, but time slips away so easily. I’d forgotten I still had the drives, to be honest, until they were found during the search of my property.’

  He’s lying, I have no doubt. The way he’s framed his posture and the confidence with which he is delivering his lines, there has clearly been some rehearsal involved.

  ‘I wish there was more I could tell you, Miss Hunter, but I’m afraid I can’t say what I don’t know.’

  I’ve never hated the sound of my own name so much as the way he delivers it with such bitter scorn. I need to find a way to get through to him but short of shaking him by the shoulders, I’m at a loss as to how. It feels like the journey here has been a waste of time. I have no doubt that the only reason he agreed to meet with me was to see how desperate I am, and to lord it over me.