Hard Truth

by Jay Gill

  Charles sipped his water and said nothing.

  “I’m here about your son, Jacob.”

  Silence.

  I continued, “I am sorry to bring it up. I know it must be difficult.”

  “Of course you’re here about my son,” said Charles. “I know what happened will never go away. My son knew that too. Which is why he took his life. Though it could be argued he had his life taken from him through what happened. And in turn, ours were taken from us the day he killed himself.

  “This might look like paradise to everyone else, but for my wife and me, it feels like a prison and every day is a living hell. Ask your questions. I’ll help if I can.”

  “I’ve read the case files, but I’d like to hear your version of events. More accurately, I’d like to hear your son’s version.”

  “Are you opening up the case again? I don’t think we want that.”

  “No. It’s a separate investigation, but I think what happened to your son could help.”

  “Jacob was our only child. He was our miracle baby. Doctors told us we couldn’t have children and yet one day, out of the blue, Patti told me she was pregnant. Happiest day of my life.

  “Jacob was a shy boy, perhaps because he was an only child. He was very bright, but socially awkward. A little too caring for his own good, you could say. He often found himself being taken advantage of.

  “Growing up, he was bullied quite a bit. He had a tough time at school. He got through it and got his place at his chosen university. He loved it and was doing exceptionally well. He started to flourish and come out of himself.

  “In his second year, he met a girl. He was very inexperienced, you understand, and he was soon telling us how he’d fallen in love. He would talk to his mother on the phone about how smart this girl was and how beautiful and kind and thoughtful. We were delighted, but like a lot of parents would, we urged caution. Though, in truth, we were over the moon. For us, it was the icing on the cake. Somebody saw the beautiful boy we saw, and they were making him happy.

  “One weekend at the beginning of his third year he came home for a few days, and we could see a change in him. Patti and I tried to speak with him, to find out what was going on, but he was distant and didn’t want to talk about it.

  “We hoped it would pass and gave him the space he wanted. Then, a few weeks later he phoned to say he’d broken off the relationship. We were surprised but supportive. At first, he didn’t say why the relationship had ended. It was a while before he told us what had been really going on between them.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Charles leaned forward and poured us both a glass of iced water. He took a sip of water, then looked at me, his eyes hard and unforgiving, and said, “The young woman had become obsessed with him. She’d become manipulative and violent towards him. The day he called us she’d threatened to kill him.”

  “How did Jacob sound when you spoke?”

  “How do you think he sounded? Scared, confused, upset, emotional… He was scared for himself and, Jacob being Jacob, he was worried for her too.”

  “Were the police involved?”

  “Not at this point. Jacob didn’t want that. He told us he’d spoken to the university’s chaplain and things had been resolved diplomatically. Had we known what was to come we’d have done things differently. Hindsight and all that.” I could see the sadness in Charles’s face.

  “Go on.” I urged him gently.

  “Things were quiet for a while. It seemed the young woman was keeping her distance and that Jacob and the university had managed to resolve the situation. We all moved on with our lives.

  “At the end-of-term party, the two of them got talking. She apologised for her prior behaviour. She told Jacob she’d had family problems and that had caused her to act out of character. They agreed to be friends and spent the evening talking.

  “Foolishly, after a few drinks, they returned to his room and spent the night together. The young fool had sex with her. Anyway, the next morning, he woke up alone. He was disappointed but thought nothing more of it.

  “Later that day police officers arrived at his door. At first, Jacob thought it was a prank. He very quickly realised it was no joke. He was cautioned and very publicly taken in for questioning. He was quizzed for hours about the young woman and their relationship and the events of the previous night. He was shown pictures of her injuries; the bruises and cuts and blood-stained clothes. Of course, they also had DNA evidence. He was told he would be charged with rape.”

  “What happened next?”

  Charles looked drawn and pale. Recounting the story was taking its toll, but he fought on.

  “I know what you’re thinking: too many drinks. Maybe some drugs. Young man who didn’t want to hear ‘no.’ Jacob forced himself on her.”

  “What do you think happened?”

  “We know what happened,” said Charles sharply. “The only witness, another student in an adjoining room, was too scared to speak out. She knows what happened. She saw the girl inflict her own injuries. The witness feared for her life. She would only speak to us privately and would not make a formal statement no matter how hard we, or the police, insisted.”

  Charles had tears in his eyes. He got to his feet and paced around the room like a caged tiger, frustration and fury charging through his body like all this had happened only yesterday.

  Finally, he stood behind his armchair and said, “Do you have children, Detective?”

  “Two daughters. The eldest is about to become a teenager.”

  “If you know your daughters as well as I know – knew – my son, then I don’t need to explain how I knew he was innocent.”

  I’d heard similar words, a hundred times before, from parents who would sooner die than believe their child capable of committing a serious crime.

  “Before we go any further,” I said, “I must ask you about the money. You donated a considerable sum to the university.”

  “It was foolish. Arrogant. Regrettable. A rash decision that, in retrospect, was plainly misguided. It’s true what they say: hindsight is twenty-twenty. I had this notion at the time the girl was after money. Money isn’t something I’ve ever been short of, and I simply wanted to help my son.

  “The university was to act as an intermediary. I was desperate to see the whole thing go away and I am ashamed to say I instructed them to make her an offer. Jacob knew nothing of this, of course. Neither did Patti. Patti would have been dead against it.”

  I knew how it would look and play out in court if it was discovered Charles had offered hush money to the victim.

  I could also see how Charles, in such a desperate situation, might have acted irrationally.

  I asked, “Did the offer of money have the result you were hoping for?”

  “For a short time. I’d hoped the money had worked and that an understanding had been reached. That she’d drop the false allegations. However, it soon became clear she was out for blood, and I’d merely made things worse. There was a trial, of course. The scandal was horrendous. The shame, unbearable. The helplessness, heartbreaking. Friends and family turned their backs on us.

  “We supported and believed in Jacob, and he knew that. We told ourselves that by staying strong as a family, we would get through it all, somehow. We assumed that despite it all the truth would come out and Jacob would be found innocent and the whole sham exposed.

  “Instead, it was one of those terrible situations that you read about in the newspapers, where the accused is guilty before ever stepping inside a courtroom. Jacob’s spirit was broken. He stopped talking. The strain got too much. We tried to reach him, talk to him, tell him we believed in him and that, ultimately, he’d be found innocent.

  “Every day we told him how much we loved him, but it wasn’t enough. The evening of the fifteenth of May, while in police custody awaiting sentencing, he took his own life. Our miracle baby, our gentle boy, was found hanging in his cell.”

  Charles wiped a tear from
his cheek with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. He gripped the armchair and said, “As far as I am concerned, the bitch murdered him. She might not have put a gun to his head and pulled a trigger. Nevertheless, she murdered my son.”

  “I’m sorry. Truly sorry.”

  Gregory got up and walked to the window. He stared out to sea. “I’m sure you are, Detective. Unfortunately, those words sound hollow to me these days.”

  “Did you ever hear from the woman after Jacobs’s death?”

  “Why?” Gregory turned on me with hurt in his eyes. “Where is all this leading? Why does all this matter now?”

  “I’m simply trying understand what went on,” I said softly. “I’m trying to build a picture.”

  A woman’s voice from behind me said, “Yes, we did.”

  Patti Gregory had returned and now walked across the room to kiss her husband. Her elegance, glamour and confidence belied the eyes of a mother who had suffered and cried until there was nothing left to give.

  Patti said, “She sent us photos of Jacob and herself. Happy, smiling photos. There was also a note.”

  “Do you have the note? Do you recall what it said?”

  “No, I burned it,” said Patti, “along with the photos.”

  Charles reached out and held his wife’s hand. “I don’t need the note. I’ll never forget. It read, ‘What a shame. Jacob beat me to it.’”

  Patti added, “She’s evil. She couldn’t resist twisting the knife once more. I know exactly what that note implied.”

  “Did you go to the police? Start building a case to clear his name?”

  “There was no point,” replied Charles bitterly. “He was gone. He was the centre of our world, and he was gone. Nothing can change that. Though we might not be able to prove it, we knew the truth. We’ve always known the truth. And that’s all that matters.”

  Said Patti, “Unlike me, my husband still holds out hope we’ll one day see justice. So, tell me, Detective: why are you dragging this up again? Haven’t we suffered enough?”

  I owed the Gregorys an explanation. I had listened to their story, and it was time I laid my cards on the table. I just hoped I didn’t damage their already devastated lives anymore.

  I moved my eyes between Charles and Patti as I explained. I spoke slowly and clearly and said, “I’m investigating a woman named Kelly Lyle. She is the prime suspect in a series of murders that date back a great many years. I’m looking into her background to build a picture of who she is and what motivates her to kill. My hope is that it if we understand her, it will help us catch her.”

  “Then you’ve had a wasted trip, Detective. As you’d well know, if you’d done your homework, the woman responsible was named Kelly Allerton.”

  I paused before replying gently, “Kelly Lyle’s mother’s maiden name is Allerton. She took the name while at university. The woman I am pursuing is the same woman who drove Jacob to commit suicide. Kelly Lyle, or Kelly Allerton as you knew her, is wanted in at least four countries in connection with a string of homicides. We also believe there are countless other cases where she aided and incited others to commit murder. I must stop her.”

  Charles Gregory’s eyes brimmed with tears and his body trembled. He pulled his wife to him, and they held each other. I couldn’t return their son to them, but I had managed to throw light on some of the questions that had haunted them for years.

  Only Kelly Lyle knew the truth about what had really happened between Jacob Gregory and herself. Maybe one day, once she was behind bars, I would be able to ask her.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  A bead of perspiration ran down the prison guard’s neck. Prison Officer Terry Farley tugged his collar with a finger. He watched as she mingled among visitors who were mainly friends and family.

  Farley looked her over as she casually chatted and joked with one of the regular visitors – a wife he recognised, whose husband was back in again for dealing – as though she’d been visiting every month for years.

  She looked different from the last time they’d met. Her hair looked unwashed and unbrushed, and she wore no make-up. The fancy, expensive-looking designer clothes were gone, replaced by faded jeans, a sports sweatshirt and battered tennis shoes.

  She didn’t stand out, grabbed nobody’s interest and didn’t look out of place at all. If Farley didn’t know better, he’d think she was the wife or sister or girlfriend of one of the cons – which was just what she wanted.

  As the visitors were shown through to the visiting room, Farley made sure he stood next to her. He whispered, “You promise that after this you’ll leave my family and me alone?”

  She didn’t look at him. She looked straight ahead and said, “I’m going to need your help for one more visit. After that, you’ll never hear from me again.”

  Farley swallowed hard and pushed out his chin. Rubbing the back of his sweaty neck, he said, “You said nothing about a second visit. We had a deal. I can’t do this again.”

  “Circumstances have changed, and I need your help one last time. I’ll be in touch. And one more thing.”

  Farley sucked in air and said, “What?”

  “Stop sweating, Farley. You look like you’re doing something illegal.”

  Kelly Lyle winked at Farley and left him looking anxiously around the room.

  Lyle moved through the room full of visitors and prisoners to sit down opposite inmate Tony Horn.

  “Look at me, Tony,” she ordered him. “Stop looking around. I need you to settle down. We don’t need any undue attention. You’re as bad as Farley. You look like you’re going to piss your pants.”

  Horn whispered loudly, “Everyone in this room knows who you are. How the fuck do you expect me to react? You being here will bring all sorts of shit down on me.”

  “Mind your language, Tony,” Lyle snapped. “Take a deep breath. Act like we know each other.”

  “Where’s Tina?”

  “Tina’s isn’t coming today. She’ll be along again next time.”

  Horn looked around the room. He could see inmates looking; he could feel their feel eyes on him.

  Tony said, “Everybody’s going to wonder why Kelly Lyle wants to see me. They’re either going to think I’m an associate of yours or that you want information from me. Pretty much everyone in here knows my background, so it’s unlikely they’re going to think I’m an associate. Which makes me a snitch and that pretty much makes me a dead man.”

  “Stop being so melodramatic. Nobody gives a damn about you. You’re a nobody. And in a place like this, if you’re smart, that can work to your advantage. Just keep your mouth shut, your head down, and you’ll be fine.”

  Horn looked over Lyle’s shoulder at Officer Farley. Farley’s eyes were on them. Horn felt uneasy about a screw being involved. His head kept telling him this was a bad situation. Very bad. Very effing bad, indeed.

  “Don’t look at Farley. Look at me,” said Lyle. “He has no interest in our conversation. He’s got huge problems of his own.”

  Horn’s eyes turned to Lyle. Did she really have prison guards in her pocket?

  Lyle leaned towards Tony. “Do you know why I’m here?”

  Horn shrugged, then decided not to piss Lyle off any more than he already had, so he blurted, “The detective’s wife? Helena Hardy?”

  Lyle’s cold eyes fixed on Horn’s, and she said, “Before you answer the next question, Tony, I need you to remember that it’s me you need to be afraid of. Nobody else. I need you to give me the name of the man who sent you to kill Helena Hardy, the detective’s wife.”

  Horn smiled uneasily and said, “You know who it was. Everyone does.”

  “I need to hear you say it.”

  “Richter. It was Edward Richter who paid me. He told me to make it look like a street robbery. He told me he’d pay well, and he’d help me get out of the country once it was done. He said he had everything ready. He screwed me. There was never any money or plan to help me. The police were all over me. H
e set me up. The only way they could get to me that quickly was if Richter tipped them off. He also knew I’d never grass on him or cut a deal.”

  Lyle hissed, “It’s me you need to be afraid of, not Richter. He’s a dead man. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  “What do you want from me?” Horn’s eyes began to dance around the room again.

  “I want you to tell the police exactly what you just told me. Tell them it was Edward Richter. Not too obvious – I just need you to point them in his direction. Do you think you can do that?”

  “Police? I don’t want them visiting me. What about the screws? Do you think they won’t let Richter know I spoke to the police? Of course they bloody well will. This is too much. I can’t. You need to leave me alone. Find someone else.”

  Lyle ignored his protests and pushed back. “The police will visit you very soon, I guarantee it. Don’t worry about the guards. I have an agreement with our friend back there.” She nodded back towards Farley.

  Horn rubbed his unshaven face. “I don’t know. Can you protect me in here? I need protection. You must know some people.”

  “Tony, look at me. I don’t want to threaten you to do it, but you know what will happen to you if you don’t do what I ask. Think about this instead: if I can walk in and out of one of Her Majesty’s prisons, how hard do you think it is for me to make sure no one lays a finger on you? Of course you’ll be protected.”

  “I guess so.” Horn began tugging at his ear and tapping the table. Tap-tap-tap, like hitting a tiny drum. “I just tell the police what I told you, but subtle like? I can do that. You promise I’ll be alright?”

  “You have my word. You do this for me, and I’ll make sure you get looked after. You also get the satisfaction of knowing the man who put you here is going to pay for it.”

  Lyle got to her feet and turned to walk away. “Time for me to go. This place reeks of losers and testosterone.”

  Tony Horn looked up at her and said, “Why do you hate Richter so much? I mean, what did he do to piss you off so much?”