by Jay Gill
I said, “Dad will be fine. He’s as tough as they come.” I wasn’t sure whether I was reassuring Mum or myself.
I stared at the heart-rate monitor. It was hard to think, and harder to find the right words, so Mum and I sat quietly for a while. We hoped Dad knew we were there, supporting him and praying for him.
Chapter Forty
Emma waited.
Her eyes felt heavy, and she was fighting sleep. It was nearly 11 p.m., and it had been a long day.
She sat at home in silence and in near darkness. The only light in the room came from her laptop, perched on the coffee table in front of her, and a table lamp on the far side of the room. A moth circled the table lamp; it bashed into the lampshade before resting on a nearby curtain.
Emma waited and listened.
Watson looked up at her. He rolled over onto his back, lifting a front paw, hoping for a belly rub. Emma didn’t notice. She was deep in thought.
Lyle’s letter circled her brain, going around and around in her mind. Emma had memorised the words, but the same line still stood out.
…I need you to see the big picture. James deserves to know the truth…
She picked up a copy of the letter. The original was at the lab being tested by the techies – even though it was unlikely anything useful would come of it. She looked down at the laptop, willing it to notify her of an incoming email.
Once again, she read the letters and numbers on the back of the letter: GU851PH52.
What did they signify?
Perhaps the letters and numbers were some sort of code, the numbers representing a letter’s position in the alphabet – number 1 being the letter A and number 5 being the letter E, etcetera. Maybe it was an anagram. Emma spent some time moving the letters about but couldn’t form them into anything useful.
Maybe the code was a map co-ordinate. Was it the location of another body?
She messed around with the code in her mind for a little while longer before closing her eyes and waiting.
Be patient, she told herself. Let Vince work his magic.
Vincent Constantine rarely left his home; to Emma, and anyone else even remotely acquainted with him, it seemed he lived online. His first language wasn’t English or Spanish or French or German. No; Vince’s first language was computer code, those seemingly random letters, numerals and characters that, when arranged in the right order, created the language that gave your computer instructions. To the untrained eye, computer code made no sense at all, but to Vince, those letters, numerals and characters were the gateways to a whole other world.
He had worked for a while for Government Communications Headquarters, commonly known as GCHQ, until his resignation. He had then worked on surveillance and clandestine operations with the National Security Agency and had also helped set up the platform for the National Cyber Security Centre. Until his sudden resignation, his desk had been in a soundproof office in a building that had no name. The sort of building where even the cleaner needed the highest security clearance just to be able to refill the soap dispenser.
After a bitter disagreement over the sharing of sensitive information with foreign agencies, Vince had had enough and just up and walked away. He had set up shop on his own and now worked freelance.
Four minutes ago, Emma had sent him an email with Kelly Lyle’s code. If anyone could figure out what it meant, Vince could.
Emma closed her eyes.
Come on, Vince.
The laptop chimed. The sound of an email reply.
It was from Vince. Please be good news.
Emma read the message.
Subject: Too Easy
Message: Hi Emma,
Your code is a UK address – reversed! Too easy. Next time, I want a challenge.
GU851PH52 to 25HP15 8UG.
It’s an address. House number 25. Post code HP15 8UG.
You can find it on Google Maps.
I’m still single and holding out hope there will be a you and me one day. You’ll always be the only girl for me. Hope you’re doing okay?
Vince ended his message by signing off (backwards) with evoL ecniV, which he no doubt considered hilarious.
Emma opened Google Maps and tapped in the address: house number 25, post code HP15 8UG. If Vince was right, and he always was, the house was in the town of High Wycombe, Buckinghamshire.
Further online searches showed the property had once been managed by a letting agency called Majestic Lettings.
It was a long shot she’d reach anyone now, but she made a call to Majestic Lettings. No one answered. She left a voicemail message.
She then called the nearby police station and requested officers wake up whoever needed waking to get keys to the property.
No longer feeling tired, she looked at the time. 11.37 p.m. High Wycombe was a two-hour drive. At this time of night, with little traffic, she’d get there quicker.
Emma grabbed what she needed and headed up the M27 motorway. As she drove, she spoke to officers who had woken the somewhat-bewildered owner of Majestic Lettings, Bobby Singh. She rang off, called Singh, and insisted she must get into the property tonight.
Singh wasn’t happy at being woken in the middle of the night or the idea of police officers entering a property he managed without a warrant. Emma quickly mentioned she was investigating multiple murders. He was more receptive when she suggested he might be seen as impeding the investigation by not cooperating. But also, should visiting the property lead to an arrest, she would be sure to mention his public-spirited contribution at a future press hearing. Singh agreed to assist.
After she rang off, she wondered whether she should have told Hardy what she was doing. The address had come from Lyle, and she wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for or what she might find.
Why was Lyle interested in Hardy’s late wife anyway? Maybe she wanted to screw up his life again just as he was getting it back together.
Emma decided to keep her investigations to herself for now.
Chapter Forty-One
Just before 2 a.m., Emma arrived at the office of Majestic Lettings. She peered through the glass in the front door and noticed a light on out the back. She knocked a couple of times. Singh made his way from the back office to the front door and let her in.
He was a short man with bloodshot eyes and a high-pitched voice. He greeted her and said, “This is all very unusual. I hope you understand, I wouldn’t be doing this if it wasn’t for a murder investigation. My clients—”
Emma interrupted what was sure to become a monologue on the quality of his service. She was too tired and too keen to see inside the property. She also knew Singh lived upstairs in the flat over the office, and she didn’t consider his coming downstairs and handing over a key to a police officer as the inconvenience of the century. Deciding she might need his assistance later, however, she felt it best to proceed with politeness.
“I appreciate your cooperation. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
“I really should be coming with you, but my wife has had to fly home to Scotland to see her parents and I’m here supervising the children.” His eyes flicked upstairs.
“I don’t need to inconvenience you further. I’ll just take the keys and take a look around the property. I’ll push the keys back through your letterbox when I’m done.”
“That would be ideal. Now, you have to understand that nobody has lived in the property for a very long time. We had some squatters living there for a while, but that was all dealt with. Since then we’ve had no tenants. The rent is paid, anonymously, every month, and the owner of the property has decided they would rather keep it empty. It’s beyond me, but it makes my life a lot easier, so I don’t complain. What I’m saying is, we do our best, but I haven’t visited the property myself in a while, so I can’t vouch for how it looks. Someone pops in from time to time to check there aren’t any burst water pipes, but beyond that I don’t know.”
Stifling her impatience, Emma nodded that she understood
. “I don’t want to keep you from your family any longer. If I could take the keys, I’ll be on my way.”
The little man shifted uneasily and reluctantly handed over the keys. “Please be careful. Don’t damage anything.”
Key in hand, Emma headed to the car without looking back.
A few minutes later she was outside the property. She pulled into the driveway. The light from her car headlights showed the building to be well maintained – on the outside at least. The lawn was short; the small patch of garden and the driveway were weed-free.
She reached into the glovebox and pulled out a torch. She flicked the switch, gave it a shake and a tap, and the light came on.
Chapter Forty-Two
Emma shut the front door behind her. She flicked the switch to turn on the hallway light. It clicked, but no light came on. Shit. The fuse must have tripped, she thought.
The house smelled damp and felt cold. Stepping carefully, she shone the torch into each downstairs room. There were no furnishings to speak of. The rooms were empty except for carpets and the occasional set of curtains.
The only exception was the dining room, which had a dining table and four ornate high-back chairs.
Emma shone her light into the kitchen. There were no electrical appliances, and all the cupboards were empty. A single upturned glass sat beside the kitchen sink.
Back up the hallway, she shone the torch into the under-stairs cupboard, which was also empty except for an off-cut of carpet and the household fuse box.
Leaning inside, she flicked the only switch that was down. No light came on. She tried the main switch, pushing up, then down, then up. Nothing. I guess Mr Singh is skimping by not paying for electricity. I bet his customer wouldn’t like that.
She made her way upstairs, each step creaking and springy like it might give way beneath her. The air became thicker and damper as she moved further up.
The upstairs landing had four doors. She shone the torch left and right and over her head. Every door was open, and she peered inside each one. Nothing of note.
Overhead in the hallway was a loft hatch. She went back downstairs to get one of the dining chairs. She placed the chair just below the hatch, stood on it and pulled down the ladder. Torch in hand, she climbed the ladder and shone its light around the empty loft.
After about an hour of fruitless searching, Emma sat at the table in the dining room with Lyle’s note in her hand.
GU851PH52, or 25HP158UG.
What if Vince was wrong? Perhaps it wasn’t an address. Did it mean something else? Why was she allowing herself to be led by Lyle? Was Lyle getting her to chase her tail, just for the fun of it?
No. There had to be something here that she’d missed. It was too much of a coincidence that this property was empty and the owner was paying the rent without looking for a new tenant. Emma had no doubt that if she looked hard enough, she would find that Lyle, or one of Lyle’s companies, owned the property she was sitting in. Why had Lyle sent her here?
She got up and moved slowly around the house again. She stood in the kitchen doorway and shone light on a mouse making its way along the worktop before disappearing down behind the sink. She needed to check on top, behind, and beneath every cupboard, drawer and door. There was something here Lyle wanted her to find.
An unexpected breakthrough came on her second search of the upstairs. Emma noticed that two of the bedrooms had very small walk-in wardrobes. Just big enough to stand in.
For some reason, the one in the master bedroom had a lower ceiling, which also appeared to be separated into two parts. Emma pushed on it and felt some movement on one side. Pressing at the edge, she heard a latch click then felt it release. One half of the ceiling opened. She lowered the panel, revealing a hidden space that she guessed was some sort of security space. Perhaps the previous owners had put their valuables and important documents in there in case of burglary.
Shining the torch up into the space, Emma could see something inside. Adrenaline pumping, she dragged out the items – papers and a handbag. After running her hand around the hidden area to check there was nothing more, she took the items downstairs and put them on the dining table.
She spread out the papers and could see they were cuttings of newspaper articles. This is it, she thought, her heart pounding. Lyle had wanted her to find this. The articles were reports on Helena’s murder.
Apprehensively, she turned her attention to the handbag. She realised it had likely belonged to Helena.
Deep breath.
Emma opened the handbag and started taking out its contents, placing them one by one on the table. A small hairbrush, a couple of pens, a mobile phone, children’s hairbands, plasters, tissues, a shopping list and a coin purse.
She unzipped the coin purse, and the first thing she saw was a photograph of Hardy and his family. It was unmistakable. They all looked so young and happy. Helena had been beautiful.
She couldn’t tell where the photo had been taken, but it looked like a family farm park. In the background were small goats looking through a fence. Alice and Faith were holding ice creams. Emma suddenly felt like she was intruding on memories that belonged to Hardy. She wanted to feel jubilant, but she felt only sadness.
She looked at the newspaper articles again. Circled in black pen was the name Tony Horn. Horn was the man who’d killed Helena and was serving a life sentence. Lyle had left a trail of breadcrumbs, and, despite wanting to resist, Emma knew she had no choice but to follow them. For the time being at least.
Her inspection of the property complete, she closed and locked the front door behind her. She drove around to Majestic Lettings and pushed the keys back through the letterbox door. Singh was very likely upstairs getting his children ready for school.
The air felt fresh and cold on her lungs. It was nearly 7 a.m., and the roads were filling up. It had been raining, and the streets glistened in the morning light.
She needed to find a hotel to crash out and steal a few hours’ sleep. Things were moving fast, and later that day she had two appointments booked, one of which was with Detective Rayner. Rayner was the nearest thing Hardy had had to a partner during his time at New Scotland Yard. Emma knew they were close, like brothers. If anyone could tell her more about what had happened to Helena, then it was him. She’d found it impossible to ask Hardy, so if she wanted answers, his best friend Rayner was the one to ask.
Chapter Forty-Three
Sienna poured Lyle and herself a glass of Chardonnay then joined her on the balcony. She handed Lyle her glass and they stood together and took in the view.
“This really is a beautiful spot,” said Lyle. “Perhaps, in another life, you and I could stay here forever.” She put her arm around Sienna and moved close.
The rich red evening sun was low in the sky, and most people had left the beach. Dog walkers and those wishing to enjoy an evening stroll peppered the water’s edge. Only a few families remained, soon to be replaced by groups of teenagers preparing to party into the small hours. Seagulls patrolled the sand for leftovers, occasionally breaking into squawking fights at the discovery of a partially eaten sandwich or discarded chips.
“If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?” asked Sienna.
Lyle laughed with affection at the child-like question.
“I’ve been to most European countries, and they’re all special in their own way. I’d love to take you to Paris, of course, and Venice, Barcelona and Prague. There’s also the United States and Canada once we’ve visited the cities of Europe. And Asia – well, that’s out of this world.”
“I’ve always thought Australia would be a great place to explore and lose yourself. Thailand too.”
“That sounds like an excellent idea, somewhere you can go unnoticed for a very long time. I have some wonderful memories of my time travelling. For a long time, I was a very different person.”
Sienna took a large gulp of wine. “She must have meant a lot to you. The woman who broke your heart,
I mean.”
“Yes, she did. She was the first person I trusted who didn’t go on to disappoint me. She never let me down, ever.”
“I don’t understand.”
“She didn’t leave me, if that’s what you’re thinking. She was taken from me. Murdered. I wasn’t there to protect her. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time. It should have been me that died.”
“I’m sorry. You mustn’t blame yourself,” said Sienna.
Lyle looked at Sienna in a way she didn’t understand. Sienna added, “Did they catch the person who did it?”
“Eventually. I know exactly where he is. At some point, I’m going to pay him a visit.”
“You’re braver than me, that’s for sure. I don’t think I could do that. In fact, I know I couldn’t do it. Confront a killer, I mean. No matter how much I might want to.”
“You might surprise yourself,” said Lyle. “We are all capable of much more than we realise. It’s often just a case of setting your mind to it. You seem to have a way of getting what you want.” She nudged Sienna, and they laughed.
Lyle watched as Sienna went inside to fetch the bottle of wine, returned, set it on the balcony table and put her hair up in a bun.
Sienna could feel Lyle’s eyes on her; she liked it. She topped up their glasses. “It must be painful to know she’s gone and he’s still…” She let the sentence trail off. “It makes you think that prison just isn’t enough.”
“There are times I’ve wished I could get hold of him. I’d hand out my own form of justice. I’d be sure he truly pays for what he’s done. I can think of a million ways to make him suffer. After I’d finished with him, he’d think hell was summer camp.”
Sienna shuddered at the icy way Lyle spoke. She smiled uncertainly. “I know what you mean,” she said.
Chapter Forty-Four