by Jane Isaac
The guilt came in such a rush that she gripped the edge of the basin, the ceramic cold and smooth in her hands. Why? Why had she tortured him so much? She believed him, didn’t she? Yet something deep inside of her had wanted him to suffer.
12
‘The car was located by a dog walker in Merry Tom Lane shortly after 7 a.m. this morning.’ Freeman pointed at the location on the map, then swept across to a collection of photographs recently added to the board.
The conference room quietened. The mottled shell looked markedly different to the CCTV image beside it of the shiny Jaguar entering Rothwell town the night before. Jagged edges of glass were all that was left of the windscreen. The front lights were missing, the bumper melted to such an extent that the nearside rested on the uneven ground.
‘Forensics have removed it for examination. We’re not holding out much hope of them finding anything, but the collision investigators were able to confirm that the offside bonnet and wing are damaged, consistent with a recent collision.’
‘Merry Tom’s quite a drive from the crime scene in Rothwell,’ Nick said.
‘About fourteen miles.’ Freeman glanced back at the map. ‘The cameras in the vicinity picked up the car approaching eastbound on the A14. It entered Rothwell from Junction 4.’ He followed the route with his finger and rested on a coloured marker. ‘The car hit the victim here—’ he tapped twice ‘—at the crossing beside the market square, and drove out through Bell Hill towards the Glendon Road. Shortly after that we lose sightings.’ He moved his hand across the map. ‘The route out to Merry Tom Lane is pretty well served by back roads which is probably why the Jaguar didn’t ping on any cameras after the incident. Perhaps they chose Merry Tom Lane because of its country location. It’s unlit, rural and quite a way from the boundaries of nearby towns. It’s not a through route either. There’s only one entrance and exit by car that leads up to the farm. What is interesting is the point where the car was abandoned: right on the junction where the Brampton Valley Way crosses it.’
Beth wracked her brains. The Brampton Valley Way was an old railway track that ran from Northampton to Market Harborough in Leicestershire which was now laid to path. It was a narrow track, only accessible by walkers, cyclists and horse riders, with regular entrances and exits along the fourteen-mile route, and frequented by dog walkers and families taking a stroll during the summer months. She recalled cycling down it with her mother when she was a child, picnicking at one of the many ready-made areas on the route. Abandoning the car there gave the killer a choice of different exit routes and directions.
Freeman stepped back and scanned the room. ‘What else have we got?’
Nick Geary lifted a navy day book, flicking it open. ‘The labs squeezed the autopsy into their list this morning. The victim suffered multiple injuries including several broken bones, a ruptured spleen and a smashed skull, but the injuries appeared to be fresh; he appeared to be in reasonably good health prior to the hit. They’re running toxicology tests, although there’s no immediate evidence of any narcotics and nothing on the body to suggest an earlier scuffle.’ He snapped the book shut. ‘We found his phone in his wife’s Audi – the vehicle he was using last night. We’re going through his diary, building up a schedule to interview everyone he’s spoken to in the past week, starting yesterday and working back. There’s not much of immediate interest though. It’s mostly related to the upcoming trial.’
‘What about the search of Gina Ingram’s home?’
‘I’ve spoken to forensics; they’ve found plenty of hairs – blond, brown, black – especially in the front room, but they’re pretty sure they are canine. It’ll take a while to go through everything, could be days before they have anything useful.’
‘What about the bowls club?’ Freeman asked.
DC Pete Winston raised a hand. In his mid-twenties, he was one of the youngest detectives on the team, but his lack of experience was compensated by an abundance of enthusiasm. ‘There was a small turnout last night,’ he said, ‘six of them altogether. I’ve spoken with each of them individually and they said it was a routine evening. No arguments. Ingram was in reasonable spirits. He even stayed behind at the end to clear up with the secretary…’ He paused, checked his notes. ‘A George Evans, who walked out to his car with the victim. At the moment, he’s the last person to see him alive, apart from the takeaway staff.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing to report. Evans said Ingram left alone in his car. Didn’t see anyone follow him. Evans went straight home, he only lives a couple of streets from the church hall where they hold their meetings. We verified his alibi with his wife.’
‘Did they lose any members at the bowls club when the charge was reported last year?’ Nick said. ‘It seems surprising they were all so supportive, given the reaction the Ingrams received elsewhere.’
‘Yes, I asked Evans that question.’ Pete flicked a page in his notebook. ‘He said most of their members were longstanding. Ingram had been playing bowls there for the best part of twelve years. Some of the other members, like Evans, are old school friends. A couple of people have dropped off since the charge, but they don’t know whether it was due to Ingram’s situation or other commitments. Stuart Ingram did call a meeting though, before the charge was announced. Professed his innocence and asked them if they were happy for him to continue attending. Apparently, they put it to a vote and agreed.’
‘In true councillor style.’
Pete snorted. ‘Exactly.’
‘Okay,’ Freeman said. ‘It appears Vicki Ryan also has an alibi. Let’s continue working through the results of the public appeal. I want to take a fresh look at all the harassment reports the Ingrams have put in since the charge last October, in case this is a vigilante attack.
‘Gina Ingram was released this afternoon. We’ve insufficient evidence to keep her at present, but she has motive and means and remains in our eyeline as a key suspect. While it seems unlikely she was driving the car, she might still have been involved in some way or be working with someone else. Warren and Beth are covering the family liaison officer role, Warren is with her now. I’m going to get surveillance set up to watch her. If she was conspiring with someone else, sooner or later they’ll try to make contact.
‘Okay, I’ve put in a request for extra officers but I’m told, with the heightened terror threat at present, we’re struggling to cover the crime floor. We’ve already got uniform doing our house to house.’ Freeman drew a deep breath. ‘I don’t need to remind you all that this is a high-profile inquiry and we need to show a presence, reassure the community and follow up every lead. The superintendent is at the College of Policing and can’t get away, so we need all hands to the fore here. We’re cancelling annual leave for the immediate future.’ A howl of disapproval rattled around the room. Freeman lifted his arms to quieten them. ‘Hopefully, it’s only for a few days. Needless to say, the quicker we catch this bastard, the quicker things return to normal.’
A shuffle beside Freeman caught his attention. ‘Ah, yes. As you know Inspector Aston retired last month and we were expecting his replacement this morning. Sadly, the heightened terror threat has also meant Special Branch has blocked their release for a while. However—’ he held his arm out ‘—the super has asked Sergeant Andrea Leary to stand in and be our acting detective inspector on this investigation.’
The news was met with a stony silence. Detectives shifted in their seats. Some surreptitiously exchanged raised eyebrows. Andrea had worked on the homicide team for a couple of years and left shortly after Beth joined the team to take up a fixed-term post on the regional crime squad. Just over a month ago, she’d returned, and her reputation as fiercely ambitious, constantly searching for the next success to add to her CV, trailed her like a shadow.
‘Okay, that’s it, everyone,’ Freeman said. ‘Beth, come and see me when you’re finished, will you? There’s something I want to ask you.’
The room erupted as officers gathered their
belongings and moved out. Beth jotted down the last of her notes, made her way down to the DCI’s office and knocked.
‘Come in!’
Freeman was standing behind his desk looking out at the sports field.
Beth smiled as she entered. ‘You wanted a word?’
‘Yes.’ He indicated for her to sit.
It wasn’t until she closed the door and took her seat that she noticed Andrea leaning against the side of his desk. She gave her a brief nod of acknowledgement.
Freeman sat back in his chair. ‘I understand you’ve just finished a shift on the night car?’ Beth nodded, unspeaking. ‘Good. I wonder if you can help us out. Can you get over to Gina Ingram’s and relieve Warren this evening? See if you can stay over. Sell it to her as a temporary measure, we’re concerned for her welfare, need to keep her safe until we’re aware of the killer’s motivations. The surveillance operation will take a while to set up and I need someone to keep an eye on her until then. We’ve seized her mobile phone, but the landline is still there and there’s always the possibility she has other means. I’d be interested to see who she contacts.’
‘I’ll get straight over there.’
Andrea placed a hand on her hip, lifting the edge of her tailored jacket. ‘After that I’ll need you back in the office for a few days.’
‘Sorry?’ The decision didn’t make any sense. Family liaison officers always worked in pairs, to support and quietly investigate the family, and in a case of this level the need for their role was greater than ever. Andrea knew that better than anyone; she was a trained liaison officer herself, although it wasn’t a role she could undertake at inspector level. ‘There isn’t anyone else trained—’
‘I’m aware of that,’ Andrea said. ‘But resources are tight. You can be backup for Warren, but I can’t spare you for anything more.’ She lifted her head high. ‘The appeal is bringing in lots of calls. I need resources here to cover the phones.’ She turned to Freeman. ‘I’m sorry, Lee. It’s so tight out there.’
The use of Freeman’s first name got his attention. He heaved a sigh, looked torn. ‘Sorry, Beth,’ he said eventually. ‘As soon as I get more officers, we’ll change things around. We’ll utilise your skills here as much as we can in the meantime.’
‘Of course.’ Beth fought to hide her disappointment. She thanked Freeman, left the office, grabbed her jacket and made her way down the stairs.
She was crossing the car park when her phone rang. Her sister’s name flashed up on the panel.
‘Hello,’ she said. It was unusual for Eden to call her at work. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yes. Can you pop over later?’ Eden said. ‘It’s not urgent.’
‘I can’t make tonight, I’m afraid.’ She didn’t elaborate. With the unsavoury company Eden chose to keep, the less information she gave her, the better.
‘Okay, tomorrow then? It’s Mum’s birthday next week and Lily wants to organise a get-together.’
Beth pictured her seven-year-old niece. Her pale skin, her crystal-clear eyes filled with sweet innocence. It was just like Lily to want to arrange something special to celebrate her late grandmother’s birthday.
‘Sure. I’ll drop by tomorrow.’
13
A squeak caught Beth’s attention. She was in Gina Ingram’s front room, curled up on her sofa. The heating had long since switched itself off and her feet, tucked beneath her to preserve as much heat as possible, were rubbery where the circulation had cut. She released them, reeling as a shower of pins and needles ran through to her toes.
Beth listened hard. The sound abated. It was probably the dog, fidgeting in his bed in the kitchen. The number of natural noises – floorboards creaking, pipes hissing as they cooled – surprised her in a house that couldn’t be older than forty years. So much so, that she’d checked the front and rear every half an hour, perusing the gardens each time. Even with the new locks Gina’d had installed, she wasn’t taking any chances.
She’d arrived earlier to find Gina sat at the kitchen table, her expression glazed. Gina hadn’t spoken, or batted an eyelid when Warren bade farewell, and gave an imperceptible shrug when Beth offered to stay over. It was difficult to determine whether her indifference was due to intense shock, grief or the fatigue of spending last night at the station. They’d shared a brief tea together, made by Beth, before Gina retired, leaving Beth alone downstairs.
The clock on the mantel read 3.55 a.m. The team back at the station would be working through the night to view the CCTV footage and poring over Gina’s phone records, searching for anything unusual, listing her recent contacts in readiness to follow them up.
The visit to Vicki Ryan yesterday flitted into Beth’s mind. The allegations of sexual harassment Vicki made and later dropped hadn’t appeared to do her career any harm. She’d landed a job with another estate agency and gained a new boyfriend with a classy flat. After the harassment complaint was withdrawn, Vicki had retreated from the public eye and refused to be interviewed by the press. When the indecent images were discovered on Stuart Ingram’s computer, reporters would have been clambering at her door for her reaction. Yet she’d rejected them and faded into the background. During the questioning about the hit and run yesterday, she’d seemed indifferent and dismissive of the harassment incident, set on putting it behind her. Was that because she was covering up, or because she genuinely wasn’t involved?
The squeak sounded again. Beth moved across to the window and parted the curtains. The sky was clear, devoid of clouds; a full moon smiled down at her. The road outside was quiet. She scanned the parked vehicles, observing that no new cars had arrived since she’d last checked, and then wandered to the patio doors at the other end to view the garden. Her eyes were adjusting to the light outside now. Nothing looked awry. She was beginning to relax when she heard a heavy squeak. No, more of a grating this time.
Beth stepped out into the hallway. The door to the kitchen was pulled to. She pushed it with the tips of her fingers, heard a gasp, and flicked the light switch illuminating the room with a dazzling blaze. Oscar raised a sleepy head from his basket in the corner.
Gina Ingram sat at the kitchen table, cradling a glass of milk. She blinked. ‘You made me jump.’
‘Is everything all right?’ Beth asked. She hadn’t heard her footfalls descending the stairs.
Gina took a sip of milk. ‘I couldn’t sleep.’
‘Can I get you anything?’ The thought of Gina tiptoeing silently through the house while she sat in the front room unnerved her. But she was still in her pyjamas, and there was no reason to think she’d left to see someone.
‘No, thank you.’
‘Do you mind if I make a drink?’ Beth said. Her brain was fuzzy, in dire need of a coffee.
Gina shook her head.
‘Do you usually suffer from insomnia?’
‘It comes and goes. It’s so frustrating lying in bed awake.’ She heaved a sigh.
Beth nodded. She knew that lull between sleep and the waking hours all too well herself. ‘I usually try an Earl Grey when I can’t sleep. I saw some in your cupboard earlier. It might help?’
‘Okay.’
Beth prepared the drinks. The soft rumble of Oscar’s snores echoed around the room. ‘Well, at least somebody doesn’t have a problem sleeping,’ Beth said as she passed a mug across.
The edge of a smile played on Gina’s lips. She glanced over at the spaniel. ‘He’s hopeless,’ she said. ‘He’d sleep through a hurricane if it happened at night.’
‘Not much of a guard dog then?’
‘I wondered if he was losing his hearing, but actually I think he’s lazy.’
‘I saw Phoebe today,’ Beth said, changing the subject. ‘She was concerned for you. Asked me to let her know how you’re doing.’
Gina’s face slackened. A tear glittered on her eyelash. ‘I’m worried about her.’
‘Why don’t you get in touch?’
She bit her lip. ‘It’s… awful not to be ther
e for her. Whatever she thought of her father, he was still her dad. The man that raised her. And if I know Phoebe, she’ll keep her feelings to herself, be brave for the children when really she’s crumbling inside.’ A husk caught the last few words. ‘Do you have children?’
‘Just a niece. Lily. She’s seven.’
A woeful smile twitched Gina’s lips. ‘Such a lovely age.’ She stared at the photos of her two grandsons on the fridge beside a couple of splodgy paintings. The paper was yellowing and curled at the edges.
‘Why don’t you give Phoebe a call?’
‘I texted her when I got my new mobile and gave her the number. She didn’t reply. And now you guys have taken the phone, I wouldn’t even know if she did contact me.’
‘You still have your landline. You could plug it back in.’
Gina looked away, lost in her thoughts.
‘Are you sure you have no idea who might have done this to Stuart? Perhaps there’s been a stranger hanging around recently. Or somebody trying to contact him.’
‘No.’
‘I know you’ve had problems in the community here. Perhaps someone in particular has singled him out?’
‘Not unless you’re referring to Northants News. I have no idea who threw the brick through our window or poured paint on our car. It seems the police don’t either. But their actions were no doubt fuelled by what was reported in the newspapers and online. They wouldn’t let it lie. Refused to give up. It was as if Mike Carter couldn’t believe his son had married into such a family and took it personally.’
This was the first time Gina had mentioned her daughter’s connection with the editor of the local press and it struck a chord. It might also go some way to explain Phoebe’s decision to estrange herself from her parents. Perhaps it wasn’t a decision made by her and Jason, as he’d claimed. Maybe the pressure had come from elsewhere. Beth made a mental note to flag up the concerns with Freeman and review the news coverage surrounding Ingram’s charge.