The Eyes of the Accused: A dark disturbing mystery thriller (The Ben Whittle Investigation Series Book 2)

by Mark Tilbury

  Maddie looked up to see Hannah hobbling towards her. She nodded and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘I think so.’

  ‘Let… me… out… whore….’

  Hannah put a hand on Maddie’s shoulder. ‘She wasn’t lying. There isn’t a phone.’

  Out of the frying pan and into the fire. ‘Now what are we going to do?’

  ‘Neighbours?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s like a blizzard out….’

  ‘Maddie?’

  ‘Ben. Oh, shit, Ben. He’s still in the car.’ Maddie hurried across the kitchen. ‘I’ve got to get him out of the car.’

  Hannah hobbled over to the basement door and double locked it with the key. She then sat down with her back against the door and sobbed her heart out for ten minutes solid.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Connie Sykes sat at the top of the basement steps and tried to come to terms with what had happened to her. Life could be so cruel. So vicious. So unfair. All she’d tried to do was bring baby Jacob back. To do the right thing. Set the record straight. Now look at her. Smashed to pieces by the two people she’d been foolish enough to trust: the sneak thief and the whore.

  The wounds in her neck and chest throbbed. Her chin was on fire. She’d chipped a tooth. Her broken wrist felt as if it was being treated to a thousand Chinese burns. Blood poured from her head. Her skull was definitely fractured, leaving her brain open to all sorts of diabolical infections.

  That’ll teach you to trust anyone but me, Sweetcakes.

  ‘Aye. I know.’

  I warned you.

  Connie was about to ask the Wolf where he was when the whore had tricked her with all that mumbo-jumbo nonsense about gardens and streams, but she didn’t have the strength to argue. Not anymore. ‘What am I going to do now?’

  The fat lady’s about to take the microphone, Sweetcakes.

  Connie let out a single sob. She looked at the gun sitting halfway down the steps, glinting in the dirt like a devil’s promise. For a few moments, she was back at Blackett’s Mine with her Da. Shooting the Coca-Cola soldiers and eating their sandwiches with dirty hands. It was such a treat not to have her mother standing over her, demanding that she wash her hands and mind her manners when she was eating.

  Her father’s voice whispered in her ear. ‘Eeh, lass, we’ll make a sharpshooter out of you yet.’

  Connie had loved the way he used to ruffle her hair and pull her close to him. It was as if they were the best of pals. But now poor Da was locked away in Sunnyside Nursing Home. He didn’t even have his memories anymore. Just a bunch of well-meaning carers to wipe his backside and cut his nails. There was no dignity in old age. Just a lonely place where you watched life fall away.

  Like leprosy. A memory lost here, a faculty lost there.

  ‘How am I going to help him now?’

  You can’t, Sweetcakes.

  And then a terrible thought. ‘What’s going to happen to baby Jacob?’

  Don’t worry about him. He’s waiting up in Heaven for you.

  ‘I thought he was in the sneak thief’s belly?’

  Not any more, Sweetcakes. He doesn’t want to be dragged up by that reckless fool.

  Connie thanked the heavens for that. She shuffled down the steps on her backside. ‘He’s not angry with me, is he?’

  He could never be angry with you. He loves you.

  ‘But I’ve let him down.’

  You weren’t to know how devious the whore and the sneak thief were. No one’s blaming you.

  ‘I should have listened to you.’

  The benefit of hindsight, eh?

  ‘You’ve been so good to me.’

  It’s been a pleasure.

  Connie picked up the gun and pressed it to her temple. ‘Look after my Da.’

  Don’t worry about him. He’ll be with you and baby Jacob before you know it.

  ‘Really?’

  Once he learns the truth, he’ll be more than ready to join you.

  ‘How will he know?’

  I’ll tell him, Sweetcakes. I’ll tell him how you fought a valiant battle to reunite him with baby Jacob. I’ll tell him how you were tricked and coerced by the whore and the sneak thief.

  ‘You will?’

  Every bump and scrape. I’ll tell him how his little girl shed her chains and fought right until the bitter end for what was right.

  She wiped blood out of her good eye. The basement was now a hazy blur. ‘I tried my best.’

  And now it’s time to go and get your reward. Prepare for your new life with Da and baby Jacob.

  ‘Like before?’

  Exactly, Sweetcakes. Just like before.

  ‘The Three Musketeers?’

  Aye. The Three Musketeers.

  She curled her finger around the trigger. ‘All for one.’

  And one for all.

  Connie Sykes squeezed the trigger and turned the world as dark as Blackett’s Mine.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Martin Coates was born on New Year’s Day. A true symbol of new beginnings, considering the trauma his mother had suffered at the hands of Connie Sykes. Hannah and Robert Coates were married at the end of January with family, friends and two notable guests of honour in attendance.

  Maddie had cried like a baby watching Hannah and Robert take their wedding vows. Martin had done his fair share of wailing too, both during and after the service. Hannah wore a beautiful cream dress that made her look as if she was floating. Apart from a profound limp, it was impossible to tell she’d suffered such a severe trauma only a few weeks earlier.

  Maddie was still trying to come to terms with the trauma of going back into that basement to get the phone out of Connie’s pocket. She would never forget the dreadful image of the woman sprawled at the bottom of the basement steps, one hand resting on the remnants of her mouth, half her head missing, her brain splashed up the wall in a macabre montage of bone fragments and matter.

  Ben had spent four days in hospital suffering from the effects of severe hypothermia. He had no recollection of being airlifted to hospital. He’d been hovering in and out of consciousness when Maddie had pulled him out of the back of Frank Crowley’s Mondeo. She’d somehow managed to drag him through the snow and into Fourwinds. Stripped him, dried him and put him to bed in the spare room beneath two winter duvets while they waited for the air ambulance to arrive. By all accounts, he was lucky to be alive. And Maddie thanked her lucky stars for that.

  The police were still trying to unravel Connie’s past. They’d dug up the basement floor and found the skeletal remains of a young woman. They were also excavating the garden, but as yet nothing of note had been uncovered.

  Geoff poured some tea into a saucer. ‘Wouldn’t surprise me if they found more bodies.’

  Maddie shuddered. ‘Me neither.’

  ‘They usually turn up all over the place. Look at Fred West. And that Harold Shipman. How many did he kill? Two hundred? Three? And he was a bloody doctor. Just goes to show….’

  Maddie reached out and took Ben’s hand. ‘I still can’t understand how she thought she would bring her baby brother back.’

  ‘Bloody lunatic,’ Geoff said. ‘And she worked in nursing homes. She could have got up to all sorts.’

  ‘I don’t think anyone will ever understand Connie Sykes,’ Ben said. ‘It’s just a blessing she never got to finish her evil plan.’

  Geoff slurped some tea and then lowered the saucer. ‘Oh, by the way, you’re going to love this: Crowley reckons he’s going to sue us.’

  ‘For what?’ Ben said. ‘That bastard ought to thank us for saving his life.’

  ‘Cheeky sod reckons we had no right to use Maddie as bait. He got off lightly, if you ask me. It’s a pity the cops found him in that garage when they did. Another day or so and he’d have been toast.’

  ‘Or ice,’ Maddie said.

  Geoff laughed. ‘And that’s a fact, love. Anyway, Andy reckons the police have got enough evidence on those films they
pulled out of Connie’s fireplace to charge him with making indecent images.’

  ‘I hope they throw the book at him,’ Maddie said. ‘Every time I think about him I go cold inside. Why would anyone want to film people going to the toilet?’

  ‘But it’s a good job he did, isn’t it?’ Geoff said. ‘It’s funny how fate conspires to make things work out. If he hadn’t installed that camera in the toilet, then no one would have been any the wiser about Connie Sykes.’

  Maddie smiled. ‘My dad says God works in mysterious ways.’

  ‘He certainly does,’ Geoff agreed. ‘So how are you feeling now, love?’

  ‘I’m not sleeping very well. Bad dreams and stuff. I keep seeing Connie. You know….’

  ‘That was a bloody big thing you did at Fourwinds. I’m proud of you. We all are.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ Ben said.

  ‘At least I didn’t get shot like poor Hannah.’

  ‘Have you seen her lately?’ Geoff asked.

  ‘Last week.’

  ‘How’s her leg?’

  ‘It’s healed up really well, all things considered.’

  ‘And the baby?’

  ‘He’s great. Hannah idolises him.’

  ‘That girl deserves a medal for what she’s been through.’

  ‘They’ve asked Maddie to be the baby’s godmother,’ Ben said. ‘Isn’t that great?’

  ‘It certainly is.’ Geoff agreed. He smiled. ‘Does that come with expenses?’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ Maddie promised.

  ‘And what about you two? How’s it, you know…?’

  Ben leaned close to Maddie and kissed her on the cheek. ‘We’re good.’

  Maddie squeezed Ben’s hand. ‘As good as it gets, Geoff. As good as it gets.’

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  Massive thanks to:

  Maggie James, for all her invaluable help and input. A real inspiration.

  Cassie, for her dedication, help, support and tireless work.

  Colin Rutherford for beta reading the book.

  Kayleigh, for giving me her valued opinion.

  Lesley Jones, who edited and proofread the original manuscript.

  Special thanks to K T Bowes and Heather Osborne for their help. True lifesavers!

  About Me

  I live in a small village in the lovely county of Cumbria, although my books are set in Oxfordshire where I was born and raised. I spent five years serving in the Royal Navy on submarines in the late 70's/early 80's. The navy introduced me to lots of different characters and taught me the importance of teamwork and acting responsibly.

  I have always had an overwhelming urge to write. Poems, short stories, novels, even random stuff that just pops into my head. I sold a couple of short stories to magazines back in the nineties, but then I was widowed and left on my own to raise two young daughters. I didn't write for a long time as I adjusted to my new role in life. Now, thankfully, I have rediscovered my passion for writing and it's all systems go!

  My three favourite authors are Stephen King, Tom Sharpe and Catherine Cookson. My favourite book is Misery by Stephen King, and I think the film adaptation is superb.

  The Revelation Room = https://t.co/yCnbL5nSV2

  My author blog is http://www.marktilbury.com

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