The Witch Hunt (Jonny Roberts Series Book 3)

by Alexander Lound

  Also, what about Jacob Tanner? We’d done little-to-no research into him. Wasn’t he the much more likely killer? Everyone we’d met had said he’d been violent, including his own brother. Whereas Peter had seemed calm, collected. The only fishy moment was when he’d turned so pale. But wouldn’t that be normal if remembering someone who had burned alive?

  As I wondered, Aaron tapped away on the computer. Eventually, Peter’s Facebook page appeared on the screen. “Okay, so that rabbit hole I was talking about. I was scrolling through Peter’s Facebook page, reading all the usual dry stuff about his business, interesting historical topics, so on and so forth. All really boring, nothing helpful, that sort of stuff.”

  Aaron really wasn’t selling this to me.

  “But then, just as I was about to click off the page, I ‒ noticed ‒ something.” He said these last words slowly, as he searched the page. When he found what he was looking for, he hovered the cursor over it. “Bingo.”

  The cursor was pointing at a review, hidden around the bottom of the page. It was one of three reviews and, significantly, the reviewer had left one star. It had been written by somebody called Emma Fulton.

  I read the first line aloud. “Don’t go anyway near this guy.” Immediately, my gut twisted. I glanced to a grimacing Aaron. Then, I continued. “I met him on a dating site. We went for one date, and he tried to touch me up. When I told him I was going home, and that he wasn’t for me, he grabbed me, and tried to pull me towards him. Women of the world, you need to know about this man. Stay away from him.” I blinked. “What the hell?”

  “I know right. Disgusting.” Which it was. Furthermore, it opened my mind to a new realm of possibilities. Like, if Peter was capable of doing such a thing to this woman, then what could he have done to Samantha Lowry? It was still a big jump to make, but maybe Peter wasn’t the calm, collected, respectable guy I’d thought him to be.

  Aaron continued, “I messaged Emma Fulton, and I asked her about her story. She didn’t have much more to tell me, but she did give away that she met Peter on a website called Ember.”

  “Ember?”

  “Yeah, Ember. Straight after her message, I looked up Peter on Ember, and I found his profile.”

  Aaron googled Ember. The page loaded with a bold white title placed over cartoonish flames. On the main web page, we were invited to ‘search for single women in our area’. All we had to do was enter a postcode. Instead, Aaron typed Peter’s name into the search bar in the corner, and we were soon looking at a picture of Peter Abbott, gawky and languid, in glasses that were somehow oversized for his face. Again, he was pulling that tight, toothless smile.

  Aaron scrolled down the page. “There’s not much you need to know about the guy’s profile, just the usual boring nonsense that single guys exaggerate. Not that you’d know about dating profiles, of course.”

  “And you would?”

  Aaron’s eyes darted. “Anyway, what’s more important is that I managed to send him a message.”

  “What? How?”

  “Well, I have this friend. She lives just down the road from here, actually. Her name’s Alicia Thomas. We met at university, so we go way back. In fact, I even helped her out when her mother died.”

  “Cool. And this is relevant because?”

  Aaron sighed. “It’s relevant because I called her last night, and she agreed to be our bait. She’s happy to meet Peter in our stead.”

  “Jesus. So, let me guess: you made a profile for her, sent him a message, and—?”

  Aaron nodded. “And he was very up for it, that’s what. Seemed our Peter didn’t want to get to know Alicia too much before agreeing to a date. In fact, it was pretty much the first thing I asked him. She’s meeting him at a restaurant in Peene at seven o’clock this evening.”

  “Okay, so we send Alicia in as bait. Then what?”

  “Well, Alicia is an ex-police officer, and is now a private investigator. She has some surveillance equipment we can use to spy on their date.”

  “Cool.” When I was a kid, I had wanted to be a spy. Little me was proud of big me right now.

  “Apart from that, we stay nearby, make sure nothing happens to Alicia. Alicia’s goal is to get back to his house, for a drink or something. We need her to not only assess his character, but to see if he’s hiding anything as well.”

  “What would he be hiding from a brutal murder that was over twenty years ago?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, he might have burned a girl alive, for Christ’s sake. If he’s sick enough in the head to do that, and sick enough in the head to practically try and rape some poor woman, then who knows what he might be holding onto as some strange relic?”

  I supposed that his argument made sense. “Alright. And what about Alicia? How do we keep her safe?”

  “We keep watch, intervene if anything goes wrong. But she should be okay; she knows how to handle herself. She’s literally the perfect woman for the job.”

  Aaron clicked out of the web browser, then stood up. “She’s meeting us at my hotel at five o’clock. In the meantime, I say we go back to my room and do some more research on Peter Abbott. See what else we can find. Oh, and there’s two beds in my room, so you can crash with me tonight if you want.”

  I agreed; I didn’t want to sleep in this house on my own, especially after everything that had happened. I hoped that the house, and more importantly the spirit that inhabited it, would be okay on their own.

  We found little else on Peter Abbott, apart from that he’d been an historian for around a decade, and had studied history at Oxford University. He was clearly an exceptionally intelligent man. Possibly intelligent enough to burn someone alive, and get away with it for twenty years.

  “Of course, there’s another big question we’re avoiding here,” said Aaron, as we took a break for a lunch of takeaway pizza. “If Jacob Tanner didn’t kill Samantha, then what happened to him?”

  It was a good question. Because if Josh Hunter, or anyone else for that matter, had killed Samantha, then might they have killed Jacob too? It was something else to think about, even if we only needed to find out what happened to Samantha.

  After a fairly fruitless day of research, spent mostly twiddling our thumbs and eating lots of junk food, Aaron’s friend Alicia gave him a call at five o’clock on the dot, telling him that she was in the lobby.

  I didn’t know what to expect of Alicia. I’d never met any of Aaron’s friends before, and whenever I’d imagined them, I’d pictured people like him; gothic people with black trench coats, black clothing and heavy boots.

  I almost had to do a double take when I saw the slight blonde lady with glowing amber eyes, wearing a flowery summer dress that cut off around her ankles.

  “Oh my god! Aaron!” she said as we walked over. She beamed at him, with perfect white teeth. He walked up laughing, and they hugged. “It’s been so long.”

  “I know right. I think it was at Dan’s party? What was that, like two years ago?”

  “Something like that.” She turned to me now. “And you must be Jonny. Aaron told me all about you.”

  “Hey, nice to meet you.” I put out my hand, but Alicia ignored it. She pulled me in for a hug.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said.

  Walking back to our room, Alicia and Aaron bandied around names that I’d never heard of. Chris. Beth. Rob. Alexis. It was crazy to think that Aaron had this whole other life away from the spirit world that we never, ever talked about.

  It was only once we were back in Aaron’s room that Alicia said, “Okay. So, fill me in. What am I dealing with tonight?”

  Aaron had been laughing and smiling, but now his face became more serious. “So I told you over the phone about Samantha Lowry, the spirit. And it was Jonny’s dad’s partner, by the way; the woman who was having the night-time attacks.”

  Alicia looked to me, her face softening, her eyes like honey. “Oh. I was really sorry to hear about that, Jonny. Is she okay now?”

 
“We managed to get her away from the house, so hopefully she’ll be alright. But what we really need to do is get Samantha to cross over, so everything can go back to normal.”

  “Which is why you’re here, of course,” said Aaron. “The man you’re going on a date with is called Peter Abbott. We think he might be a little unpredictable, based on the Facebook review I told you about.”

  “Oh, yes. That sounded awful.”

  “Quite. But don’t worry, Jonny and I will be around the whole time, on hand if you need help. We’ll be in the car, outside the restaurant. And you’re still comfortable asking him for a drink at his house, if you can? So you can look around, see if you can find anything of interest?”

  “Yeah, that’ll be okay. I brought the recording gear as well.” She’d been holding a leather case, and now she plonked it on the table. “It’s all in there. I’ll attach the recording device to my stomach, and you’ll be able to hear our conversation over an intercom.”

  “Brilliant. Look, I don’t know what we’re going to be dealing with here, but I think it’s best to assume the worst. Peter could be capable of burning somebody alive, for all we know.”

  “I still can’t believe that happened.” Alicia screwed up her face. “What was he like when you met him?”

  Aaron shrugged his shoulders. “He seemed pretty normal, right Jonny?”

  “Right.”

  Alicia nodded. “I dealt with some messed up people while I worked in the police. And I can tell you, the worst ones were the people who could create the illusion of normal. Yet, when they wanted to be, they were anything but.”

  I shivered. I looked once more to the picture of Peter Abbott on Aaron’s laptop screen. His intelligent green eyes and sharp features.

  What if they were the perfect disguise of a maniac?

  17

  Aaron and I arrived first at the restaurant. Alicia had driven separately, to minimise any suspicion. Not that Peter would be suspecting somebody to be investigating him for a twenty-year-old case.

  The restaurant was The Coriander. It served Asian food; Thai and Vietnamese. Even though we were parked some way from the restaurant, I could smell aromatic spices wafting through the open window, enticing the evening’s diners. The Coriander was around the corner from Peene’s high-street, the small collection of shops and cafés. Tonight, however, it was a little busier. Couples wandered the streets, between Peene’s few pubs and restaurants.

  I snapped from Peene’s sights as soon as Alicia’s red Mini pulled in. She’d managed to snag a parking space right outside the restaurant. As she climbed out of the car, her flowery dress brushed her ankles, and a lock of blonde hair fell across her left eye. She flicked her hair away delicately, seemed to take a deep breath.

  She stood outside The Coriander for a time, looking up and down the pavement, waiting for her date. Meanwhile, Aaron tossed the intercom, which was wirelessly linked to the recording device pinned to Alicia’s stomach, up and down.

  “Where the hell is he?” Aaron checked his watch. It was already gone seven. What if, somehow, he’d found out that Alicia was a private investigator? What if he’d bailed on her?

  Sweat stuck to my forehead as Alicia continued to look along the pavement, her mouth crumpling. But I was able to relax as soon as a black Hyundai pulled up next to Alicia’s Mini. It dwarfed the car, in the same way that Peter dwarfed Alicia as soon as he climbed out of it. He’d scrubbed up well: wearing a blue Oxford shirt, faded jeans, and a black leather jacket. He’d swapped his geeky glasses for something a little more stylish, a frame with circular lenses, that hugged his narrow face.

  “Hello.” We heard Peter’s voice crackle over the intercom. “Are you Alicia?”

  “Yes,” said Alicia, her voice taking a similar, electronic quality. “Peter?”

  “Absolutely.” He grinned. He leaned in, kissed her on both cheeks. “A real pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise. It’s always nice to meet a man who looks like his photos.”

  “I could say the same. Have you eaten here before?”

  “Never. Have you?”

  “No, but I heard it’s really nice. I’ve always been a bit of a lover of the Asian cuisine. Shall we go in?”

  “Yes. Let’s.” Peter held the door open for her, and after following her in, they disappeared from view.

  “I just hope the device works at this range,” said Aaron. He took a sip from the coffee in his travel-mug. I took a sip from my own. This was a proper stake-out.

  Aaron needn’t have worried. The voices were still clear, as we heard them being seated at a table; the chairs scraping against the floor; their sighs as they sat.

  “Well, this is lovely,” said Alicia.

  “Very nice,” said Peter. They spent the next few minutes looking through the menu, talking about what they wanted. Peter asked if Alicia was driving. She said that she was. Peter said he might risk one glass of wine, so Alicia agreed to the same.

  “So, Peter, tell me. How long have you been dating for?” A brave question, and a curveball of an ice-breaker.

  Peter reacted to it well, though. “Thirty-seven years.” They both laughed, Alicia giggling. For a second, I pictured Cassy, giggling while we cuddled in bed. I pushed it away. “But no, seriously. I’ve always wanted to meet someone, to love someone. I guess I’ve just never found the right person. Not yet, anyway. How about you?”

  “The same, really. I had a boyfriend for a few years. But it never really went anywhere, and I think he loved his job more than he loved me. It sort of fell apart.”

  “Well, here’s to us. Single, young and carefree.” More laughter. The clinking of glasses.

  I turned to Aaron. “He seems pretty normal so far.”

  Aaron lowered an eyebrow. “Don’t forget what Alicia said. She was quite right: often, it’s the normal ones that we need to look out for. They tend to be the ones that are hiding something.”

  Peter tried to make small-talk. “So, what exactly is it that you do, Alicia?”

  “I work in a shop, selling garden furniture. I know, not particularly glamorous, but it pays the bills. How about you?”

  “I’m an historian.”

  “Wow. An historian. Like at a university, or—?”

  “Just locally. I have a real fascination with Peene. Over the years, a lot has happened in this tiny village. But I do have some broader interests. I particularly like medieval history. I’m most knowledgeable about the Tudors.”

  “Awesome. Have you always been an historian?”

  “Not always. I joined the Navy when I was younger. As soon as I left school, in fact. Literally, I’d barely been eighteen for a day.”

  The Navy. Interesting. After burning somebody alive, you might want to be in the middle of the ocean, after all.

  “Why did you quit?”

  “It wasn’t for me. I served for two years, and as soon as I got home, I registered to study history at Oxford University. To my shock, they accepted. I lived in Oxford for three years, while I got my degree.”

  Another long period away from Peene. Something keeping him away, perhaps?

  “Wow, that sounds so cool. So, did you grow up round here?”

  “Yes. In fact, I still live in my parents’ cottage. They both died some years ago, Dad first and then Mum, and she left it to me in her will.”

  “You never wanted to move away? Maybe even stay in Oxford? Get a place of your own?”

  “No, not really. You should see the place; it’s got a lot of character. Also, it’s where I was born and raised. Apart from some years in the Navy and at university, it’s where all my memories are, you know?”

  The trusting part of me wanted to take Peter at his word. But the other part of me said that it probably wasn’t normal to live in your parents’ place for your whole life. I wondered why else he’d want to stay there. If maybe he was hiding something after all.

  The rest of the evening passed amicably. Peter talked a little more about his paren
ts, then Alicia talked about her parents and grandparents, though whether she was lying or not, I couldn’t have said. Aaron remained quiet through the whole thing, occasionally ‘hmming’ when something piqued his interest.

  They’d been in the restaurant for nearly two hours when Peter asked for the bill. The night had drawn in, and ‘The Coriander’ had become a neon sign, the windows lit up with fairy lights. When they walked out of the restaurant, at first, I couldn’t tell if it was them. I had to squint, do a double-take. But when I heard Peter speaking, I knew that it had to be.

  “This has been nice,” he said, as they lurked in the gloom, the sign casting a faint glow across their bodies. “Shall we meet again some time?”

  My stomach lurched. We needed Alicia to get to his house, to somehow look around and see if she could find anything that might link Peter with the murder.

  “It has been nice,” said Alicia. And then, an attempt to resurrect the evening. “I think I fancy a drink now, though. And didn’t you say your cottage had a lot of character?”

  I heard the smile as Peter spoke. “Do you want to come back to mine for a drink?”

  Alicia giggled. Again, I had pictures of Cassy. Again, I pushed them away. “Sure, why not? Only problem is, I’m driving.”

  “You could leave your car here, come and get it in the morning? Get a cab home? You’re only in St Albans, right?”

  “Yeah. Right. That would work for me.”

  Peter opened the car door, before Alicia climbed inside. He closed the door behind her.

  “I’m not sure, you know,” said Aaron, as Peter disappeared around the driver’s side. These were Aaron’s first words for some time. I’d nearly forgotten he was there. “This Peter guy sounds pretty normal to me. In fact, what if he isn’t Josh Hunter at all? What if Josh Hunter was some totally different person?”

  I supposed that it made sense. There seemed to be nothing that indicated Peter was a goth, and when we’d been in his home before, it had seemed almost feminine. The thimble mugs; the tiny pots of tea; the dainty kitchen table.