“Spiritual integration?” I said.
“Yes. I’d imagine that Devil’s Lake is full of spirits, all coming into contact with one other, all listening to one other, all day, every day. Spiritual integration is when this constant closeness causes two or more spirits to become momentarily intwined, so that thoughts, emotions, sometimes even memories, pass between them. A memory of being accused of being a witch, for example. Don’t forget that spirits aren’t physical beings. They can permeate things, including each other.”
“Blimey. I haven’t heard of that one before,” I said. “But, if that were to be the case, if Samantha’s thoughts had been . . . integrated with a medieval witch’s, then that would be why she thought she’d been burned as a witch, right?”
“Right. It’s likely that her memories got twisted with a witch that was also burned alive. Now, she can no longer distinguish between true memories, and false ones. It could even be that she’s experienced so much spiritual integration with so many spirits, that she’s lost all her memories.”
“Okay,” I said. Then, trying to stay calm and collected, “So what do we do now? Re-summon the spirit? Tell her who she really was?”
Aaron stroked his chin. “We do have some information. We could help to jog her memory, maybe even get her to cross over. We know her name, we know her family members, we know how she really died. We can even tell her who her boyfriend was. Which makes me wonder, she said it was someone who loved her that killed her . . .”
Peter coughed. “I might be able to tell you a bit more about that.”
I snapped my head to Peter. For a moment, I’d forgotten he was there. “You can?”
“Oh, yes. If you were to read up on it a little more, as I have, you’d find that the police trail ran cold after finding Samantha’s body. That Jacob’s body was never found. But . . . everyone’s hunches still turned to him. Jacob. After all, why else might he go missing on the same night as his girlfriend? Wouldn’t murder be a good reason to hide away? To never show your face again? Find a new home, a new identity?”
Aaron stroked his chin. “Maybe. But what if Jacob was taken by somebody, too? What if he suffered the same fate as Samantha, but was never found?”
Peter shook his head. “It seems logical, but let me explain. I knew Samantha Lowry. She was in my year at school. And by extension, I knew Jacob Tanner. I’m not going to say we were all friends, because we weren’t. In fact, I barely spoke to either of them. But I did see them together around the school.”
“They were the popular couple, the two that everybody knew. She was absolutely beautiful, so almost everybody loved her. Apart from the jealous girls, of course. He was a football player, played as a striker for the school team, so everybody loved him, too.”
Aaron asked, “What were they like together?”
Peter looked to the window. “I remember them holding hands, hugging. I remember overhearing her say that she loved him, that he meant the world to her. All of this was before he left school, of course. He was a year older than us.”
“Right. Doesn’t sound like a killer to me,” said Aaron.
“But wait,” said Peter. “Because there were two sides to their relationship. I saw and heard them doing that, yes. But I also remember seeing her walking away from his car, in floods of tears. I saw him slamming his hand against the dashboard, repeatedly, as if he’d done everything he could not to hit her, and couldn’t hold in his violence any longer. I saw the bruises on her arms in an English lesson. I heard them arguing in a bathroom, and him raising his voice at her, telling her that he was embarrassed of her for something she’d done.”
Aaron looked to the ground. “Sounds terrible.”
“It was. And it’s why I think that he did it, and why a lot of people who knew him think that he did it, too.”
“Did you tell the police all of this?”
“No. I never spoke to the police. Like I said, I never really knew him, I never spoke to him. I just witnessed these events. But he was their number one suspect, so I assume that somebody else tipped them off.”
“Fair enough,” said Aaron. “What do you think happened to him, if he did murder her?”
“Who knows? He must have moved far away from here, that’s all I can say. Maybe he went to another country. Whatever he did, it remains one of the great mysteries of Peene.”
After listening, Aaron drained the last of his tea, and plonked the cup on the saucer. “Well, thank you for all your help, Peter. You’ve been a star.”
“Don’t mention it. It’s my job, after all, to be an expert on everything that happens around here.” His eyes narrowed. “Where do you intend to look next?”
Aaron looked to me. “I think we should hunt for some more information on this Jacob character. Like you said, Peter, something isn’t right there.”
Peter gave another of his toothless smiles. “A good place to start. But I warn you, it’s a very dark and disturbing case, and there isn’t much information out there, speaking from experience.”
“I can tell that already. Any family members we could talk to? Friends?”
Peter shook his head. “She was an only child, and her parents died young. Cancer and heart disease, I heard. In a small village like this, you know what everybody eats for breakfast.”
Aaron smiled. “Okay. No family. Well, we’ll see what we can find out. Right, Jonny?”
“Right,” I said, determination burning inside me.
11
Peter wished us luck as we left, and told us that if we needed any more help, then he and his books were always available.
As soon as we got in the car, Aaron pulled out his phone. “Like I said, we need to find out more about this Jacob Tanner. Have a google, Jonny. See what you can find.”
I tugged my phone from my pocket. “What exactly are we looking for?”
“Anything about Jacob; what he did, his character. If we’re going to help this spirit to cross over, then we need to fill in all the blanks for her.”
I tapped Jacob Tanner into Google, and pressed enter. A number of results came up, most about some pop star in America. I changed my search to ‘Jacob Tanner Peene’, and scrolled through an array of headlines about a girl burning alive. Much better.
Aaron and I sat there for some time, just scrolling through our phones, trying to find anything we could about Jacob. I nearly suggested to Aaron that it might be better if we did this at another café. But then I considered how pressed for time we were, and knew that every minute spent driving, or buying a coffee, was a minute wasted.
Reading through the articles, I learned a little bit about Jacob. The articles about him didn’t sound too full of suspicion, or present him in the same way that Peter had. Most of them just mentioned how much he was missed.
I kept hunting for some sort of lead. I was on perhaps my tenth article when I finally found one.
“Hey, Aaron, look at this.”
Aaron had been scrolling through his own article, but now pulled his gaze from his phone and leaned over. I held my finger beneath my prize.
Aaron muttered, “Jacob’s brother, Phillip, 21, said ‘I miss him, I really do. I just hope that one day he’ll walk back through our front door.’”
I nodded. “A brother, Phillip Tanner. We could try to track him down, right? Ask him some questions?”
Aaron bit his lip. “We could certainly try. I doubt he’ll be as forthcoming as Peter, but it’s worth a shot.”
Aaron tapped ‘Phillip Tanner Peene’ into his phone. The first result showed the website of a car mechanic named Phil Tanner. Aaron clicked on the link. It snapped to a web page headed by a picture of a balding man, stood smiling next to a white car.
“Trusted local mechanic for 20 years. No job too big or small. Drive down today for a free quote,” I read from underneath the photo. “Think this could be our guy?”
“Maybe,” said Aaron. He scrolled a little further down the web page, before spotting an address. He typed it i
nto Google Maps. “Ten minutes from here. I’d certainly say it’s worth driving down, seeing what we can learn from this guy.”
I smiled. “Awesome. Let’s go. Though, this time, we might want a different cover story. I don’t think a history project is going to cut it with a car mechanic.”
“It’s a problem with the clutch,” Aaron told Phil Tanner. “Every time I press it, it feels like it’s slipping beneath my foot.”
We were stood in the reception area of the garage, just the three of us. Some of Phil’s employees worked in the background, pulling a wheel from a car. We’d entered to the sound of grinding machinery, the smell of burning metal and sticky fuel. But now the screeching had stopped, though the smell remained.
Phil looked similar to his photo, if a little older and balder. He had an assortment of tattoos smothering his arms, so that there was barely any pale skin left. His nose and teeth were a little crooked, which told me that he’d either been a rugby player, which his build supported, or he’d been in a lot of fights. I wondered how similar Jacob might have been to Phil, whether he’d been another rough-and-ready type.
Phil looked through the window to Aaron’s car. Aaron’s cover story made sense because, in truth, the car was falling apart. Aaron had never been a materialist, and his fifteen-year-old banger only proved it.
“Sounds like your clutch has had it,” said Phil, crossing his thick forearms. “It’s an expensive job, I’ll warn you. In fact, looking at that car, I’d say it might be a write-off, mate. Don’t think the car is worth the money.”
Aaron put a hand to his cheek. “That’s so annoying. Please would you have a look at it, though? Just in case?”
“Course I will. Just warning you, don’t get your hopes up.”
We followed Phil outdoors. The sky had clouded again, an alloy grey. As we walked, I wondered where Aaron might be going with this plot.
“Got the keys?” Phil asked Aaron once we were by the car. Aaron threw them to him, and Phil unlocked the car and climbed in. He sat in the driver’s seat, placed his foot on the clutch pedal.
I threw a look to Aaron, as he leaned against the open car door. Perhaps he thought all this would buy him some extra time.
As if he were listening to my thoughts, Aaron now said, “Say, you’re Phil Tanner, aren’t you?”
“Yep. How’d you guess?”
“Your face is all over the website.”
Phil grinned. “It helps to put my face everywhere. I’ve owned this garage for ten years, and people know that if it’s me working on their car, I’ll put it right.”
“No, no. Of course. But I couldn’t help wondering, and forgive me if this is a sensitive topic, if you were the brother of Jacob Tanner?”
Phil just smiled, even if he did stop pushing the pedal, his eyes directed to the ground. “Yep, that’s me. So tragic what happened to my little brother. It was a long time ago, though.”
“I know it was. I used to go to school with him, you see.”
Phil froze. He looked Aaron up and down, seemed to observe his goth boots, his trench coat, the cowboy hat. His eyes widened, as if he were suddenly scared of Aaron.
“No way. You’re Josh Hunter, aren’t you?”
He said this as if he were stunned, amazed, that whoever Josh Hunter was would come to his garage. Aaron seemed a little taken aback, and said nothing. Phil, however, ploughed on. “Look, I’m really sorry for what happened all those years ago. I’m a changed man now, mate. Totally different. I’ve got three kids, and I’d never want to see any of them be hurt the way we hurt you.”
Aaron shook his head. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”
Phil gave a short laugh. “So you’re not Josh Hunter?”
“Nope. Sorry.”
He breathed out. “Blimey. You literally could’ve been him. You dress like he did and everything. You’re even really tall and lanky like he was. He was in the year below my brother at school, you see, though my brother absolutely hated him. Josh tried to chat up his bird. That was Samantha, actually, the girl who burned alive.” Something seemed to click in Phil’s mind. “Wait, why am I saying all this? You might have known Josh, right, if you went to the same school?”
Aaron glanced to me for a second. “Yeah, I remember Josh. Tall, gothic kid, right? Just like me?”
“Yeah. Think he changed his name actually, so he’s not Josh Hunter anymore. Did you hear about that?”
Aaron shook his head. “Nope. Why did he do that?”
“Well, it was about twenty years ago now, just after he left school. People used to take the piss a lot because he was – well, no offence ‒ but because he was a goth. I think he wanted a fresh start. So he dropped his name, and the whole goth look. He wanted people to respect him, after he became the town historian and all—”
Aaron’s eyes grew. “Wait, are you talking about Peter Abbott?”
Phil clicked his fingers. “That’s his name! Do you still know him, then?”
“Erm ‒ no ‒ I wouldn’t say I know him as such. Just didn’t realise he used to be Josh Hunter. That they were the same person.”
“Yeah. A little weird, I know. Anyway, I’d like to see him some time, so I can apologise to him. My brother wasn’t nice to him, back in the day.”
Aaron and I shared a look. Something to discuss once we were away from here.
“Anyway, your brother. I remember reading in some of the papers that he killed Samantha. I mean, what was that all about?”
Phil’s brow creased, and he shook his head vigorously. “Bastards, the lot of them. He was a rough sod, my brother, I’ll give them that. I can’t say he was particularly kind to that Samantha girl. But, my God, he’d never have killed her. He’d never have ‒ burned her alive. Never! He had a big heart, my brother, and no matter what he did, you couldn’t have doubted that he loved her.”
I tried to build a mental picture of Jacob Tanner, but fell short. After all, what had he done to hurt Samantha? In what way was he rough? And what had Phil and he done to Josh Hunter or, as we knew him, Peter Abbott? Didn’t this all create the image of a boy who was violent, who might well have burned somebody alive, given a reason? I felt an urge to be away from here. Phil was giving us the seeds of some important information, and now, we had to plant them.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your clutch, you know. It feels pretty solid to me,” said Phil.
“It has a habit of doing that. Sometimes it’s fine, next minute it’s all over the place.”
“Well, I can book you in if you want, and we can take a proper look at it? I’m afraid I’m busy all this week, though. Have work up to my ears, so it might have to be next week.”
“Sure, no problem.”
“Alright. Follow me into the office and we’ll see if we can get you booked in.”
Following Phil back to the office, I observed him a little more, and once again noticed what I had earlier. His broad shoulders. The tattoos snaking along his forearms. His thick biceps and boxer’s physique. He wasn’t the sort of person you’d want to mess with. And what had he said about Josh Hunter? That he’d also done something to him? Hurt him in some way?
As I stepped back inside, my gut twisted. Because what if this man had also been capable of killing Samantha Lowry?
“So, what do you think?” said Aaron as we clambered back into his car.
I remained silent for a moment, collected my thoughts. “I’m thinking a lot of things right now.” In fact, it felt like my mind was on fire. I’d learned so much in the past two hours, and it was a battle trying to slot it all into place.
“Okay. Let’s start with Phil Tanner. What do you reckon?”
“He was, maybe still is, a thug. You heard what he said, about that Josh Hunter kid?”
Aaron smiled thinly. “Yeah. He said himself that he was a changed man. But the question is, changed from what?”
“Absolutely. But also, there’s Jacob Tanner. Peter told us h
e saw him threatening Samantha when they were at school. Phil’s story fit with that description. I think Jacob was also quite a violent, unpredictable man. Brother-like-brother, it seems.”
“But, Phil did admit that he didn’t think Jacob was capable of killing Samantha. That even if he was unkind to her at times, he still loved her.”
I grimaced. “And then, there’s Josh Hunter, or Peter Abbott as we know him. Peter told us that he’d barely known Samantha, which according to Phil is completely untrue. So, why did he lie to us?”
“That’s a good point. Maybe he just wants to be Peter now, and doesn’t want to get dragged into the past. Perhaps it’s an insignificant detail.”
I scratched my head. This case was getting far more complex than I’d hoped for. We’d spoken to an historian and a car mechanic, and had already unveiled a web of interconnected people. At the centre, Samantha’s murder. But wasn’t this what it was like in a village? Wasn’t that what Peter had said; that everybody knew what everyone else ate for breakfast?
“Look, whatever we think, we need to get to the bottom of this fast,” I said. “The only thing that’s for certain here is that Bella doesn’t have a lot of time. One of these nights, she’s going to kill herself.”
“Alright. Based on the little and very confusing information we’ve had so far, who do you think did it?”
I didn’t hesitate with my answer, which surprised me. “I think it was Jacob Tanner. Both Peter’s and Phil’s stories fit. Whether Phil is innocent in the whole thing or not, I don’t know. But yeah, I’d say Jacob.”
Aaron shook his head, smiled. “But it almost seems too obvious, doesn’t it? Samantha is killed, for her killer to conveniently disappear without a trace for twenty years? Doesn’t that sound a bit ridiculous to you?”
The Witch Hunt (Jonny Roberts Series Book 3) Page 9