The Girls in the Lake: An addictive and gripping crime thriller (Beth Adams Book 2)

by Helen Phifer

  Cal turned to her. ‘I’m afraid not. I don’t have that sort of authority. Can’t the police do that?’

  Josh shrugged. ‘Mate, I’m at a loss about what we can and can’t do regarding James Marshall. I have someone looking into it all now. If I can, I will. But in case we don’t have the authority to do that either, which I don’t think we do, I have a plan B.’

  Karen eyed him suspiciously. ‘What might that plan involve?’

  ‘I was wondering if the lake wardens could take their boat out and keep an eye on The Tequila to make sure no more young women decide to go for late-night swims. Then if they do, someone will be there to help them before they get into serious trouble.’

  Cal didn’t even pause to think about it. ‘Yes, I will. I don’t know if I’m supposed to or if it’s even in my remit, but I’d be horrified if someone else died. I need someone to help me though, I’m the only one on shift. That’s why Mum’s here; she’s been manning the office for me on her afternoon off.’

  ‘I’ll come out with you, but I don’t know anything about boats.’ Josh smiled at Sam. ‘You go home, get your daughter to the boat and you won’t have to worry about a thing because Cal and I will be out on the lake keeping a close eye on it.’

  Karen butted in. ‘You’re not a babysitting service, Cal, you might get in trouble. I mean is this sort of stuff even in the job description?’ She looked at Sam.

  ‘Mum, we’re responsible for the safety of the lake users. If there’s a party on a boat and the possibility someone else could come to some harm then, yes, I think it would be part of my job description. Leave it with me; I’ll speak to my supervisor and get the okay.’

  She tutted as she glared at Josh. Cal left them to go into the office and use the phone.

  She whispered, ‘What the hell are you playing at, Josh, this is ridiculous.’

  ‘Is it though? Something fishy is going on. Two women have drowned and I want to make sure there isn’t a third. You’re not at work now; Cal is the one in charge.’

  He wondered for a moment if she was going to run at him and smack him in the mouth; her eyes were sparkling with what he knew was fury. They stared at each other in some kind of stand-off until Sam interjected.

  ‘Should I take the car and come back for you once I’ve dropped Grace off?’

  Josh threw her the keys. ‘You might as well.’ Judging by the disgusted look Karen was giving him, he wondered if she might push him into the water and drown him. Sam left them to it, obviously not wanting to get into a pissing contest with the pair of them. She had other concerns.

  Cal came out of the office, a huge smile on his face. ‘Sorted, my supervisor said it’s definitely okay to do what Josh has asked. You can get off home, Mum, thanks for your help this afternoon, I really appreciate it.’

  ‘Sod off. If you two idiots are going out in the dark following that party boat then I’m coming too. Why should you get to have all the fun?’

  She walked towards the toilet and left them both.

  Josh stepped closer to Cal and whispered, ‘Did you really speak to your supervisor?’

  ‘No, but don’t tell her. She’d go mental with me. I want to help you, Josh.’

  Josh didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or pray to God to help them. He hoped that he wasn’t going to get all three of them into trouble. He was in enough of that already without adding to the problem.

  Forty-One

  Beth couldn’t settle; she was desperate to know if anything had come back from the paint samples that she’d fast-tracked. Leaving the café, she drove home, made herself a mug of tea then went into her office to do some more digging into drownings in the lake. She’d only looked at a couple of pages so far, so she typed ‘drownings Lake Windermere 2000 to 2019’ to see if any better results came up. Surely not only men had drowned in the lake? Scrolling through, she paused on a photograph of a group of laughing teenage boys. She looked at the date on the article: 5th July 2011.

  School Boy Drowns on Field Trip

  Tragedy struck a group of teenage boys from Lake Fell School on a field trip to Fell Foot Park yesterday. They were having fun before they went into the water, laughing and enjoying the warm weather, racing each other and playing games.

  It wasn’t until the others reached the safety of the shore that they realised fifteen-year-old Tyler Johnson was missing. A frantic search was then undertaken by the lake wardens, police and boat users in the area. Tyler’s lifeless body was found an hour later. A spokesman for the school said they were devasted at the loss of Tyler’s life. ‘He was a wonderful, bright boy with a fabulous future in front of him,’ one teacher said. Tyler’s twin, Marcus, who was also on the school trip had been taken home to his family, who are being comforted by family liaison officers. Tyler’s parents have declined to comment.

  A full investigation into the accident is being carried out, and the teacher supervising the trip, Miss Foster, has been suspended pending further enquiries.

  Beth leant closer to the computer. Poor Miss Foster probably lost her job over that, and she doubted the woman would ever recover from the shock and the guilt. She studied the boys’ faces: young, grinning, handsome. One boy in particular had floppy hair and a brilliant white smile. He looked perfect. He looked popular. Could that be James Marshall? Sipping at her tea, she couldn’t say whether it was, but the more she stared the more she thought there was a slight chance that it could be. She sat back. It was probably nothing, her tired mind playing tricks on her, but it wouldn’t hurt to do some digging, would it? Sending the page to the printer so she had a hard copy for her records, she typed ‘Lake Fell School’ into the search bar which brought up the website for the prestigious private school, and then rang the number on the screen.

  ‘Good afternoon, Lake Fell School. Diane speaking.’ The voice that answered sounded like an older woman, which Beth hoped meant she’d worked at the school a long time.

  ‘Hello, my name is Doctor Beth Adams. I’m looking to speak to any member of staff who worked at the school in July 2011.’

  There was a pause on the other end of the phone.

  ‘Oh dear, now you’re asking. I don’t think I can tell you off the top of my head; I’d have to make some enquiries. The staff are all off today, you just caught me. I popped in to pick something up. Can I ask what this is regarding, Doctor Adams?’

  ‘I’m a forensic pathologist and I’m investigating some recent drownings in the lake. I was wondering if you knew of anyone who may still work there who was at the school when Tyler Johnson drowned on a field trip.’

  The woman inhaled sharply. ‘Terrible tragedy, he was such a nice boy.’

  ‘Did you work there then?’

  The voice laughed. ‘I’ve worked here forever, but thankfully I’m retiring in ten weeks, three days and one hour, give or take a few minutes.’

  Beth laughed. ‘You’re not counting down the minutes then?’

  ‘Now you’ve mentioned that terrible day my memory has been jogged. Mr Carruthers, the head, retired last year; Miss Foster, who is now Mrs Williams, is still here. Can I make you an appointment to come in for a chat? I think that would be the best thing to do.’

  ‘That would be fabulous. Thank you.’

  ‘Let me speak to Mrs Williams. Give me your phone number and I’ll ring you back.’

  Beth reeled off her number. ‘Thank you, Diane. I really appreciate your help.’

  She ended the call and sat back wondering if she should be doing this and decided that, yes, she should. The police were busy enough. If she came up with a tangible lead she could pass it on to Josh and his team. If it turned out to be nothing, well the only thing she’d wasted was an hour of her own time.

  No wonder she couldn’t settle; so much in her life was uncertain: she didn’t know what was going on with Josh; there was a chance the drownings weren’t as innocent as they seemed, and she couldn’t stop thinking about Robert’s post-mortem, which Charles would have performed this morning. W
as he still in her mortuary taking up precious room? Or had he been released to the funeral directors? Even though she wasn’t supposed to be in work she knew she’d go mad if she didn’t find out. She needed to see his body, and now the post-mortem had been completed, technically, she wouldn’t be doing anything wrong. If Robert’s body wasn’t there she could at least nip in to check her emails. At least going to work would give her something to take her mind off the situation with Josh and Jodie. A part of her wanted to go find Josh and demand an explanation, another wanted to shut herself off from the world entirely – and she knew how to do that better than anyone. Ignoring the voices in her head, she finally decided, and pushed herself to go to the hospital.

  Getting out of the car, she kept her head bent low so she didn’t have to speak to anyone as she passed; she didn’t have a good reason to be here. She bumped into a woman who had her head bent as she was texting on her phone.

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you okay? I wasn’t looking where I was going.’

  Lifting her head, Beth was horrified to see a familiar face smiling at her. ‘That’s okay, I wasn’t looking either. My knee is giving me a bit of bother and keeps giving way on me. I might have fallen into you. Beth, how are you?’

  Beth felt her heart skip a beat. How cruel and unfair was this? If the universe was working its magic it was in the most peculiar way.

  ‘I’m okay thanks, Jodie. How are you?’

  Jodie shrugged. ‘I’ve been better…’

  ‘Good, I’m sorry. Look, I have to go, I’m in a rush. I have to get to the mortuary. Take care, okay.’

  Inside, Beth felt her knees give way and she lurched forward, the palm of her hand resting against the wall to hold her up. What was going on? She felt even more confused than ever. She tried to ring Josh and he didn’t answer. She felt a scream well up inside her chest. All she wanted was an explanation. If she wasn’t such a coward she would go and ask Jodie what was going on. She couldn’t though; she was too scared of what the truth might be. A voice behind her made her jump.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  She turned to see a junior doctor in a white coat, her pink stethoscope wrapped around her neck. Beth nodded.

  ‘Yes, thank you. I’ve been feeling a bit dizzy; I’m okay now.’ The white lie ran off her tongue so easily.

  ‘Well you know, you’re in the right place if you need a check-up, Dr Adams.’

  Beth stared at the doctor’s name badge. It seemed the whole world knew who Beth Adams was, yet she didn’t even know herself who she was.

  ‘Thank you, I guess I am. I’m okay; a couple of betahistine and I’ll be good to go.’

  ‘Good, I’m down in A & E if you need anything for the next eight hours. Although I’m on my way to find a decent cup of coffee first.’

  Beth smiled. She was a mess and she knew it, and by the look on the face of the doctor smiling at her she knew it too, but was far too polite to say anything else.

  ‘Good luck finding the coffee, have a good one.’

  Beth hurried along the corridor, eager to be alone in her office once more.

  She needed to see with her own eyes that Robert Hartshorn was truly dead if she was ever going to get a grip on her life again. And she needed closure with the demon from her past if she was ever going to successfully confront Josh and the nightmare of her present. Together, it was too much to bear.

  Beth pushed the heavy door that led into the mortuary. It was empty and a sigh of relief escaped her lips as she took in the familiar hum of the bank of cold storage fridges lined against the back wall. She slipped inside, flicking on a couple of light switches. Before she knew it, her feet had carried her over to the back wall and she stared at the unnamed drawer which had contained Robert’s body.

  Ignoring the voice of reason inside her head, her fingers reached out, wrapping themselves around the cold handle. She tugged it open and dragged the middle shelf towards her. The body bag looked the same as it had on Thursday, but the yellow tag had been cut off, signalling the post-mortem had been completed. She didn’t realise her hands were shaking until she tried to pull down the zipper. Stopping, she took a deep breath to steady her hands, then it was open and she was staring at the man who had haunted her for seven years and consumed her life completely, dominating her worst nightmares. The dreadful memories she harboured had built him into a terrifying, scary monster. When she dreamt about him, he was huge, with black eyes, powerful arms and a grin that made her knees quake. Only he didn’t look so scary now; he looked frail, old and very dead. She stared at his grey stubbled face – once he’d never have been anything but clean-shaven – and whispered, ‘I hope you rot in hell, Robert, it’s what you deserve. Despite everything you put me through I’m not the one who’s decomposing in a mortuary fridge. I won. I bet you hate that, don’t you. I’ve wasted seven years of my life because of you. Not any more. Today it ends. I’m alive, which is more than can be said for your sorry arse.’ Before she’d finished speaking, she was pulling the zipper back together, then shoving the shelf back, she slammed the door and walked out of the mortuary.

  She held her head high; this part of her life was over for good.

  Forty-Two

  Marcus, James and Ethan stood below deck dressed in tuxedos. Even if Ethan said it himself, they did look mighty fine. Marcus and James both had long, heavy fringes which the pair of them were continually running their fingers through to push out of their eyes. Ethan, who normally lived in a bobble hat, caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror; those two looked like they’d come fresh off the set for Made in Chelsea, and he looked more like a young, skinny Jason Statham. He liked the difference. It would be nice if the girls appreciated it as well, but he could almost guarantee they would focus on those two, as if they could smell the money exuding from them.

  Opening the small fridge in the kitchen, James took out three bottles of Budweiser and passed them around. Ethan took his, hoping it would calm his nerves a little. He always got a bit hot under the collar being dressed up like this; mixing with wealthy people always made him acutely aware of just how working class he was. They clinked bottles together. James and Marcus simultaneously said ‘cheers’ and he muttered it a couple of seconds later. James shook his head.

  ‘What’s wrong with you today? You’ve been a right grump. I hope you’re going to smile when my customers arrive. I’m not paying you to scare them away. You’ll have to put on a brave show if you want to get laid. I’m telling you now, these girls want a good time. Don’t go making them all feel as miserable as you look.’

  ‘Are you not even bothered about that girl whose body I found?’

  ‘No, not really. Christ, Ethan, you can’t keep feeling sorry for yourself because of that. Yes, it was sad, but it was an accident. How many times do you need telling? I don’t get it. We had nothing to do with what happened to her.’

  ‘How can you say that? She was on this fucking boat, James. Drinking your crappy champagne and vodka. Don’t you at least feel a bit responsible?’

  Marcus rolled his eyes. ‘Why should he? Accidents happen and we know that more than anyone. You can’t spend the rest of your life blaming yourself for her stupidity. James is right, Ethan, you need to snap out of it.’

  Ethan shook his head. ‘I can’t believe what I’m hearing; do neither of you have a conscience?’

  They both replied ‘no’ at the same time then began to laugh. Ethan wanted to leave them to it, rip off this stupid suit and go home. It might be small, cramped, damp and smell like shit, but it was better than spending time with these two heartless pricks. He wondered if he’d finally outgrown their friendship, if it had ever been more than a way to have a good time without costing him anything. Only now it had cost them something; someone had died. Whether or not it was their fault, it had happened, and he didn’t feel very good about it.

  Taking his beer, he went up on the deck, leaving them to their laughter. He should walk away now; this wasn’t his lifestyle, it never wa
s. He’d been playing at it for the last eight years. He began to walk slowly along the ramp onto the jetty wondering if he really had the balls to leave.

  ‘Hi, I’m a bit early; is anyone else here yet?’

  He jumped, so lost in his own thoughts he hadn’t noticed the girl standing around on the side of the marina.

  ‘I didn’t see you there.’

  ‘Sorry, my mum dropped me off and I couldn’t stand her moaning at me in the car. I thought I’d rather hang around down here.’

  She smiled at him, and he felt his frozen insides begin to thaw. She was pretty; her shoulder-length dark blonde hair was a lovely colour. It looked natural, not bleached within an inch of its life like most of the girls who James associated with. Her nose had a tiny bump on it, and she definitely hadn’t had her lips done. She was naturally beautiful, which in James’s circle of friends was a rarity.

  ‘You’re the first but come on board. It’s too cold to be waiting around on the side of the marina.’

  The desire to leave had been replaced by the desire to get to know her better, although he didn’t doubt for one moment that the minute she laid her eyes on James or Marcus he would be instantly forgotten.

  ‘I’d better not. I don’t want to go on before the birthday girl arrives.’ The echo of slamming doors and loud, screeching laughter filled the still autumn air. Ethan laughed.

  ‘I think you might be safe; it sounds as if the circus has arrived.’ He held his hand out. ‘Ethan Scales, at your service.’

  She grinned and held hers out and, instead of shaking it, he lifted it to his lips and softly brushed them against the skin of her hand. She giggled, and he was pretty sure her cheeks had turned pink although it was difficult to see in the rapidly fading light.

  ‘Grace Thomas; it’s lovely to meet you, Ethan.’

  ‘Likewise; come on, let’s get you on the boat. You can tell them I dragged you on if they ask why you’re here before them.’