A Promise to the Dead: A gripping crime thriller with a brilliant twist

by Victoria Jenkins

  The young man turned from his colleague mid-laughter, amused by some exchange that had just taken place between them. His grey eyes met Jake’s before they briefly scanned the length of his body. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘DC Sullivan.’ He glanced at Elliot’s colleague. ‘Is there somewhere a bit quieter we could talk?’

  ‘What’s this about?’

  Taking the hint, the other young man left Jake and Elliot alone, heading to the payment desk, where he kept an inquisitive eye on the conversation he had been forced to leave.

  ‘Kieran Robinson,’ Jake said, showing Elliot a photograph on his phone. ‘Know him?’

  Elliot glanced down at the screen, though it was already apparent he didn’t need to take a look at the image awaiting him. At the mention of Kieran’s name, he swallowed nervously, his Adam’s apple rising and falling. ‘Shall we go to the staff room?’

  Jake followed him through the store, eyeing the displays along the way. He liked to think of himself as stylish, but with his rent as high as it was, police salaries were going to have to increase substantially if he was to ever afford the clothing for sale in this place.

  ‘I’ve seen his picture on the internet,’ Elliot told him as they passed a display of scented candles that were still overpriced despite the claim that there was now 50 per cent off the RRP. ‘I know what happened to him. Well … I suppose everyone knows by now, don’t they?’

  They stopped at a door marked Staff Only, and Elliot turned quickly, his face crestfallen as he realised the implication of his statement. ‘I mean I know he went missing. Is missing. I don’t mean I know what happened to him. I don’t know anything.’

  He waited a moment for Jake to respond, but when the detective said nothing, he pushed the door to the staff room open. He waited for Jake to enter before him, following him and closing the door behind them. The room was small, with a square table at its centre and a worktop and sink to the right. An array of tea- and coffee-making equipment was lined up on its surface, artfully arranged by someone who apparently had too much spare time.

  ‘Tea?’ he asked, waving a hand casually at the worktop.

  ‘How did you know Kieran?’ Jake asked, ignoring the offer.

  Elliot sat on one of the chairs crammed in around the small table. ‘I didn’t. Not really. I only met him once.’

  Jake already knew what had happened between Kieran and Elliot. It didn’t take a detective to work it out, with the scorned tone of Elliot’s Facebook messages making the situation abundantly clear. He wondered whether Elliot had been hurt enough to take revenge for the bitter sense of rejection he had clearly experienced at Kieran’s refusal to reply to him.

  ‘Did you have sex with him?’

  Elliot folded his arms across his chest and looked up at Jake with indignation, a determined defiance stamped across his face. He obviously hadn’t anticipated the question so soon in the conversation, nor had he expected the detective to be quite so forthright. Jake had predicted awkwardness – embarrassment, maybe – but Elliot displayed neither.

  ‘Yeah. It was a couple of months ago now. Just the once, and then he ignored me.’ Elliot shrugged, feigning nonchalance.

  ‘We’ve seen the messages you sent Kieran via Facebook,’ Jake told him. ‘You seemed quite upset by his rejection.’

  ‘Rejection?’ Elliot pulled a face, his top lip twisting in an attempt at a sneer. It was a poor effort at making himself appear not to care. He looked Jake up and down as though hoping to unnerve him. It seemed to offer him a momentary confidence. ‘Like I said, it was only once.’ He shrugged again. ‘Life goes on.’

  ‘Where were you on Thursday night?’

  ‘The night Kieran disappeared, you mean? Am I under suspicion now?’

  Jake said nothing, letting him know he was still waiting for an answer.

  Elliot sighed and shook his head. ‘I was at a party, actually. A mate’s twenty-first. I’ll give you his number if you like.’ He reached into his pocket for his mobile phone. Tapping in a passcode, he accessed his photo gallery and held the phone out across the table for Jake to see. The photograph showed Elliot sandwiched between two other people – a boy and a girl in fancy-dress outfits – all three pulling duck-face poses for the camera. ‘There,’ he said, his point proven. ‘That’s me at the party.’

  Jake retrieved his own phone and copied in the name and number Elliot gave him. ‘Do you know anything else about Kieran that might help us find him?

  With another shake of the head, Elliot stood. ‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry about what’s happened, I really am. But if I’m honest, I’m not that surprised. That boy had issues.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Back-of-the-closet job,’ Elliot said casually, checking the clock that hung above the sink. ‘He wanted it and then he didn’t. I don’t think he knew what he wanted, to be honest. Look … I’d better get back to work. I’m sorry I can’t be more help. I hope you find him.’

  Jake followed him back out on to the shop floor and watched him head back to his department. No one knew, he thought: no one else had mentioned Kieran’s homosexuality, not even his family. His sister seemed to think she knew her brother better than anyone else, yet even she didn’t appear to be aware of it. He wondered whether Kieran’s disappearance was related to his secret, and how the two might be linked. If there was one thing Jake knew only too well, it was how dangerous a secret could be.

  Eighteen

  Alex was heading out of the station when she spotted Hannah Robinson near the front reception area. The young woman was lingering by the doors, her phone clutched in her hand as she paced the steps that led down to the car park. When she caught sight of Alex, she stopped and thrust the phone into her pocket as though she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t have been. Her purple hair and the scowl she wore like a permanent accessory made it impossible for her to appear inconspicuous.

  ‘Hannah. Can I help you with anything?’

  Hannah opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again without speaking. Telltale signs of tears were evident in the smudged mascara at the corners of her eyes. It was a side of the young woman Alex hadn’t seen before, yet even in a moment of apparent vulnerability, Hannah still managed to radiate an anger that was tangible. When Alex had first met the Robinson family, Hannah had maintained an aloofness bordering on aggression. Alex had let it pass: the young woman’s brother had been reported missing; of course she was angry. Now, though, knowing what she did of Hannah’s reaction to Jake, she suspected that her anger was rooted in something deeper.

  ‘Do you want to come inside?’

  Wordlessly Hannah followed Alex into the station, her heavy boots thudding dully across the tiled floor. Alex led her through the waiting area and down a corridor to an unused office. She didn’t think taking her to an interview room was appropriate under the circumstances; the setting would only add to her apparent reluctance to speak. Whatever Hannah was there for, her demeanour on the steps suggested she was only half sure about sharing it with the police. If the family really knew nothing about Kieran’s disappearance, Alex thought, they were doing very little to help themselves appear innocent.

  She gestured for Hannah to sit before taking a seat beside her.

  ‘I need to tell you something,’ Hannah said eventually, after a silence that seemed to run on for an uncomfortable length of time. She paused and glanced around, surveying her surroundings. The room looked as though time had forgotten it: empty mugs still waiting on the table, and piles of paperwork stacked on top of a filing cabinet in the corner; the blinds at the window left closed, shutting out any signs of daylight. The cash injection that had been administered to the first floor of the station, on which the incident room and Alex’s own office were situated, hadn’t stretched to the lower reaches of the building, which were in general home to suspects.

  ‘Kieran,’ she said, looking at the carpet between her boots. ‘Last Wednesday, I heard him arguing with my
dad.’

  ‘Arguing over what?’

  ‘I don’t know. I popped in just to pick something up, and they were upstairs. My mother wasn’t there – she goes to the gym most evenings. Waste of time, that is. Anyway, when I went in, I could hear Kieran shouting.’

  ‘What was he saying?’

  She paused and bit her bottom lip, casting her eyes to the ceiling. ‘He was calling Dad a liar.’

  Alex paused, studying the guilt making itself increasingly apparent on Hannah’s face. ‘Why didn’t you tell us this before?’

  ‘I didn’t think it was relevant.’

  ‘Your brother was reported missing a couple of days later,’ Alex said, as though Hannah needed reminding. ‘Everything is relevant. And you obviously know that, or you wouldn’t be here telling me now.’

  The young woman’s face flushed, but she held Alex’s eye, defiant. She was twenty-seven years old, yet there was something childish about Hannah Robinson; something petulant and headstrong, like a teenager who was too used to getting her own way and would throw a toddler’s tantrum if anyone dared to challenge or question her.

  ‘What else did you hear?’ Alex asked, not bothering to hide the impatience in her voice. Darren Robinson’s absence during the search for his son had thrown up immediate red flags; now it seemed his daughter had helped protect him from any further suspicion.

  ‘I honestly wasn’t there long. The truth is, I didn’t want the hassle. I’d had a long day, I was tired. I couldn’t be bothered with the drama.’

  ‘Why do you say that? Do your father and Kieran argue a lot?’

  ‘No, not them so much, but my parents argue like they’re in training for some sort of world record.’

  ‘I need to know exactly what you overheard, Hannah. All of it.’

  She exhaled loudly, puffing out her cheeks. ‘Kieran said something like “How could you do this?” Then he called Dad a liar. Dad told him he needed to calm down. I just left. I wish I hadn’t now.’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘I would have known what they were arguing over then, wouldn’t I? I’d know for sure whether Dad might be involved in Kieran’s disappearance, because I know that’s what you’re all thinking, it’s obvious to everyone.’

  Alex was tempted to point out that her father’s absence hadn’t helped deflect suspicion, but the obvious didn’t need to be spoken.

  ‘My father isn’t involved in this.’

  ‘And yet you’re here telling me about the argument.’ Alex sighed and pushed back her chair. ‘You should have told us this before, Hannah.’

  The young woman looked down at her hands, a single tear escaping her right eye and tracking a line through the heavy make-up that had been applied in an attempt to conceal her tiredness. Her tears were the first sign she’d shown that day of anything other than defiance, but Alex wondered to what extent they were truly for her brother.

  ‘I knew it would make my dad look guilty. I don’t think he’s done anything wrong, but …’

  ‘But …?’

  With a sigh, the young woman tilted her head back and looked up at the ceiling. ‘He’s been acting really weird, hasn’t he? He should be here, at home, but he’s stayed away as though nothing’s happened.’ She chewed on her bottom lip again and sat forward in her chair, her arms folded across her stomach. Alex noticed her pinching the skin on the backs of her arms, squeezing it between her thumb and forefinger. It must have hurt, yet Hannah didn’t flinch. ‘You do think he’s involved, don’t you?’

  An argument between Kieran and Darren changed everything. If Kieran was as angry on Wednesday evening as Hannah was suggesting, it was likely he might still have been in a fragile state of mind when he’d gone out on Thursday evening. Perhaps he’d drunk more than his sister claimed he would have, regardless of his apparent years of sobriety.

  Was there now a possibility that Kieran had actually chosen to leave?

  But there would be a trace, Alex reminded herself, casting the idea aside once again. Wilful disappearance might once have been achievable, back when life was in many ways so much simpler, but twenty-first-century technology meant it was now far more difficult to vanish completely.

  ‘You’ve wasted time by keeping things from us. If you’re trying to protect your father from something, it needs to stop now. We can’t help any of you while you’re hiding things, least of all your brother. I need to know everything there is to know if we’ve got any chance of finding Kieran—’

  Alex stopped abruptly. It was too late: the unspoken word had been caught somehow, breathed into the air without her having to lend it her voice.

  ‘Alive,’ Hannah said quietly, finishing the sentence. ‘Any chance of finding him alive.’ There was another moment of prolonged silence, made all the more uncomfortable by Hannah’s laboured breathing, the heavy sound of it filling the small room. She reached into her bag and took out a bottle of water, draining what was left of it. She was crying now, moved to tears by something: guilt, or just frustration.

  ‘I swear to you,’ she said, returning the bottle to her bag, ‘I don’t know anything else. I wish I did.’

  Alex stood and went to the door. ‘So do I,’ she said bluntly. She left the room and went out into the corridor, leaving Hannah alone with her thoughts for a moment. Perhaps it would give her time to realise the scale of the damage she had done by stalling the investigation into her brother’s disappearance. They needed to speak with Darren Robinson again, and the sooner the better. Chloe was right: Darren was hiding something, whether relevant to his son or not.

  ‘Boss.’

  The desk sergeant approached her, holding out an A5-size padded envelope. DI King was handwritten on the front in capital letters. ‘Just been handed in.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Alex took the envelope and returned to Hannah to walk her back to reception and see her out before making her way up to the first floor to find Chloe. There was nothing more to be achieved by keeping the young woman at the station; though Hannah had withheld information from them, Alex was pretty sure it was another family member who held the secret to Kieran’s disappearance.

  Nineteen

  Damien Morgan was still in Bali and Dan hadn’t been able to reach him at his hotel, being told each time he had contacted reception that Mr Morgan was unavailable. He had left a message on his home phone on the off chance that someone was staying there while Morgan was away, and when his mobile rang that afternoon, it was a woman returning his call.

  ‘I’m Damien’s wife,’ she explained.

  ‘Oh, right. Okay.’ Dan had presumed that Morgan’s wife would be on holiday in Bali with him. ‘Is your husband on a business trip?’

  ‘No. It’s purely pleasure, I’d imagine.’

  The woman’s hostility burned through to Dan’s ear and he wondered what had gone on between the couple.

  ‘I’d like to speak to him about a property he owns – a farmhouse on Caerphilly Mountain.’

  ‘This is about that girl and the missing boy, isn’t it? I’ve read about them. It’s terrible. Why do you want to talk about the farmhouse?’

  ‘A ticket stub belonging to the missing boy was found near the property, and there’s evidence of disturbed land that we’d like to speak to Mr Morgan about. Do you think you’d be able to get hold of him for me?’

  ‘I’ll try, but I doubt it. We’re supposed to be having a break from each other, you see, so I don’t know whether he’ll return my calls. What do you mean by disturbed land?’

  ‘I think it’s probably best I speak to your husband first, Mrs Morgan.’

  ‘I’m still his wife,’ she said. ‘I should know if there’s anything going on.’

  ‘There’s really nothing for you to be concerned about,’ Dan tried to reassure her. ‘We’re simply following through with our inquiries at the moment.’

  ‘Fine,’ she said, her annoyance obvious. ‘I’ll tell him to contact you if I get hold of him.’

  Dan
thanked her and ended the call, getting up from his desk to head to Chloe’s on the other side of the incident room.

  It hadn’t taken Chloe long to compile a list of sellers who supplied the range of air rifles identified by ballistics in the shooting of Stacey Cooper. The details that had been provided were specific enough to narrow the weapon down to a particular model, one that was only available to order from online suppliers, though Chloe didn’t see how that might help them identify their killer.

  ‘This is never going to help us. Where the hell am I supposed to start with all this?’

  She stared at the list shown on the screen of her computer. As was so often the case, time and resources seemed to be against them. The scale of the task ahead of her already felt near impossible.

  ‘You don’t need a licence to buy or own an air rifle of this kind,’ she said, turning to Dan. ‘We’re relying on the sellers to have kept records of every sale. How many are likely to have done that?’

  Dan raised a doubting eyebrow, silently agreeing with her scepticism. ‘We can live in hope.’ He moved to her side and perched on the edge of her desk. ‘That sighting of Matthew Lewis,’ he said, making inverted-comma signs with his fingers. ‘Not him. There’s a surprise.’

  It was yet another endless lead, a case of mistaken identity on the part of the eager member of the public who had thought himself helpful. They were no closer to finding out where Matthew was, and with each day that passed, they were unable to avoid the fact that the likelihood of his still being alive was growing smaller by the hour.

  ‘Great.’ Chloe minimised the list of gun sellers and pulled up the internet page she had looked at last. It was a search of local shooting clubs.

  ‘Looks like shooting’s more popular than we realised,’ Dan said, studying the screen. ‘By the way, I’ve managed to get hold of Damien Morgan’s wife.’

  ‘They’re back in the country?’

  ‘She never left. He’s still in Bali. Been there for the past fortnight, apparently. Sounds as though they’ve recently separated, or they’re on a break at least.’