THE GUILTY ONES a gripping crime thriller filled with stunning twists Page 11

  Ella finished ironing the boys’ school clothes and put the board away. No matter what she did to distract herself, her thoughts flew back to Sarah. Had she really taken her own life to protect her sons? Ella was convinced that the answer to this was yes. Sarah worshipped her children. If someone had threatened their lives, she wouldn’t have hesitated for a moment. She would have put them first. Deep in thought, Ella set down the iron to cool. Sarah’s suicide was a selfless act, but it was also very risky. The man who had been hounding her was undoubtedly a psychopath, and most probably a liar. She could have died for nothing, having left her children in an even more vulnerable position.

  Ella shivered. This was a bad way to think when you were alone. Maybe she should ring Jackman. He had asked her to, if she felt concerned about anything, but she was reluctant to interrupt his work just because she felt a bit spooked. He needed to throw every ounce of energy into finding the man who drove Sarah to her death.

  She went back into the lounge and looked around for something to do. She was far too restless to concentrate on TV or listen to music. Perhaps she should use this time to tidy some drawers and cupboards. She had James’s full permission to do whatever she wanted, and she might find something interesting. So why not?

  An hour later Ella was sitting at the kitchen table, staring at an old-fashioned Olympus Pearlcorder. She had found a microcassette inside, and despite desperately wanting to listen to it, hadn’t yet pressed play. It had to be Sarah’s. Ella had found it in a shoebox with some other personal stuff of hers. For some reason Ella couldn’t bring herself to listen to her friend’s voice. Instead, she made a cup of tea, and while it cooled she rang Jackman. Maybe he should be the first one to hear it. It could be nothing at all, a collection of favourite recipes or something. It could also be Sarah’s deepest thoughts, recorded at the lowest, darkest point of her life.

  It was almost ten thirty when Jackman arrived. Even though Ella knew he was dying to listen to the recording, first he asked about his nephews. She told him briefly about Ryan, but added that she would speak to James if she became really worried. Now to the Pearlcorder.

  ‘I haven’t touched it. I used disposable gloves to replace the batteries.’

  Jackman smiled. ‘Once a SOCO, always a SOCO.’

  This time the reference to her earlier job didn’t hurt. Jackman pressed play.

  It was bad enough hearing Sarah’s voice, but far worse was what she said. Ella sank onto her chair and stared at the little machine.

  ‘I know what I saw! We weren’t lying, neither of us! So why is he saying that we were?’ The voice was strained, she was obviously close to tears.

  ‘And why is he punishing us? Why is he saying such terrible things? Making such horrible threats? What does he want from us? We can’t say anything different today to what we said all those years ago. We can’t say something other than the truth, can we?’

  There was a long pause, and the sound of Sarah blowing her nose.

  When she spoke again, she sounded calmer. ‘I’m going to leave this recording with my things, just in case the worst happens. If you find it, give it to my brother-in-law, Rowan Jackman. He will know what to do with this information. Perhaps it might help him to understand. He will want to understand, I know that. When I was almost sixteen, my friend Pauline and I watched another friend called Lyndsay, and a boy called Brendan, making love in the woods. Half an hour later we found her dead body and we saw Brendan running away. We told the police and, sorry Jackman, it was the worst thing we ever did. We should have kept what we saw to ourselves. Apart from the trial, which was pure hell, Brendan’s family threatened us, and now someone, we don’t know who, is persecuting us, saying we’re liars and whores and deceivers. He says we must pay the price for perjuring ourselves. And . . .’

  They heard her gulp as she fought back a sob. “. . . and this was after we’d been living new lives for twenty years! How he found us I have no idea, but if anyone is interested, my real name is Heather Miller and I was a witness for the prosecution in the trial of Brendan Symons—”

  Jackman switched off the tape. ‘Are you alright? You look very pale.’

  ‘It’s such a shock, that’s all. To hear it from her own lips. It’s like she’s talking directly to you.’ Ella stood up and went to fill the kettle. ‘I could do with a hot drink. Tea or coffee?’

  ‘Tea, please, and yes, it’s horrible, but thanks to you, we are now in no doubt about what happened.’ He looked at the recorder. ‘I think you’ve heard enough. I’ll listen to the rest later.’

  She turned to face him. ‘No, Jackman, I need to hear it. I need to know what kind of man is out there, possibly watching Sarah’s children. I have to know what we’re dealing with.’

  To her relief, he nodded. ‘I understand that.’ He looked at her intently. ‘But I really don’t think he’s watching this house, and as I said before, if we think that for one moment any of you are in danger, you’ll be straight out of here, I promise.’

  They spent the next half hour drinking tea and listening to Sarah’s account of how, after Brendan killed himself, both she and Pauline were mercilessly bullied and picked on until life became unbearable. Their names had been withheld at the trial, but it was a small town, and Brendan’s village was even smaller. People knew exactly what had happened and who was involved. In the end, they ran away. They were well into their teens by that time, and they moved down to the south of the county and rented a flat together. Still scared, they changed their names, managed to get jobs, and became Sarah and Suri, two young women who had a future again. In Sarah’s words, “you always live in a kind of parallel world when something like this happens.” But in the end she found a loving husband, wonderful friends and after she had Ryan and Miles, the only place she wanted to be. Then, when she had almost reached the point of no longer looking over her shoulder, he came along, and the nightmare began all over again, only this time it was a hundred times worse.

  Jackman paused the tape and took a deep breath. ‘It’s hard to imagine how she managed to transform herself so successfully. I would never have known that she had such terrible secrets, and I’m a detective!’

  ‘Me neither, and I worked for her and we were friends.’ Ella swallowed. ‘Sometimes I felt like I was her only really close friend. She seemed so warm, so grateful for the time I spent with her.’

  ‘It looks as though she and her friend Pauline didn’t see too much of each other after they settled down to family life.’

  ‘Maybe it was too painful, being reminded of their past. I think I’d want to make a clean break too, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Possibly, although you never forget a thing like that. There are so many little triggers that would bring it all rushing back. For the sake of my sanity, I think I’d want to keep the person who suffered alongside me really close.’ He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, ‘As far as I can gather, Sarah only ever made one mistake, and that was mentioning the name Pauline Grover to you.’

  ‘And she never realised it. It was just thrown into a casual conversation and forgotten. She certainly never mentioned knowing anyone called Suri.’

  Jackman sat back. ‘Are you up to hearing the rest of it?’

  Ella nodded. ‘Let’s do it. We’ve come this far.’

  The last part of the tape was nothing less than harrowing. It was very disjointed and clearly recorded over a period of time. Sarah described the horror of being threatened, and worse than that, of her children being threatened too. She regretted smashing her laptop, and hoped that someone other than her husband or children would find this recording. She was clearly close to breaking point, and Ella felt quite sick by the end of it. Her last words were just, “Please forgive me.” And then the tape came to an end.

  They sat in silence for a while. Then Ella said, ‘He’s the most wicked man, isn’t he?’

  Jackman sighed. ‘I can sometimes understand murder, when it’s done in anger, in the heat of the moment, if,
say, someone you love has betrayed you. It’s never excusable, but at least I can see how it happens. Anyone can break if the pressure is too great to cope with. But such shocking callousness and premeditation is beyond my comprehension. I’m almost afraid to meet him. He’s the very epitome of evil.’

  Ella had the odd feeling that the killer saw his actions as being just and righteous. As if it was his sworn duty to right a terrible wrong, like a crusader. She explained this to Jackman.

  He agreed rather doubtfully. ‘The problem is we don’t know what this terrible wrong is, other than that it revolves around Lyndsay and Brendan. Was it one, or both of them that lit his fuse? Who or what is he trying to provide posthumous atonement for?’ He shook his head. ‘There is so much more to all this. Things we know nothing about. We have a long way to go before we can look this man in the eye.’

  That was something Ella hoped she would never have to do.

  Jackman stood up. ‘I’m sorry, Ella, I have to go home tonight. There are things to deal with back at Mill Corner, and I’ve an early start tomorrow. Will you be okay?’

  ‘James will be back from a meeting with your father quite soon, and yes, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.’

  ‘I do worry.’ He looked at her.

  Ella wondered why such a good and eligible man was single. She watched him go, feeling rather sad for him. He should be going home to a loving hug and a warm bed, not to “deal with things,” probably stuff like leaving money for his daily help and putting the bins out. What a waste! Ella closed the door and heard his car drive away. She had said she was fine, but she wasn’t. She would’ve been much happier if Jackman had stayed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  For once, Ruth Crooke made no mention of Jackman leaving the investigation. He had cornered her in her office just before the morning meeting.

  ‘Hearing what happened to Sarah in her own words confirms that we have a vendetta on our hands, and it’s being orchestrated by a devious fanatic with considerable cunning. How you are able to brainwash another human being into taking their own life is almost beyond comprehension.’ She shook her head.

  ‘He’s a master manipulator, Ruth. I’m terrified to think what he will do next.’

  Her face was drawn and grim. ‘We have to assume he will continue to wreak vengeance on those closely connected to the Lyndsay Ashcroft murder case. I’m going to have to take this to the chief super, you know. I think that everyone who was involved in incriminating Brendan Symons has a right to be told what’s happened here.’

  ‘It could cause panic, but, yes, I’d want to know if some murdering zealot had me in his sights.’ Nevertheless, the last thing Jackman wanted was the press having a field day with such a fantastic story. He said as much to Ruth.

  She stared into space for a few moments, frowning. ‘That’s very true, Rowan. If all the people connected to the case started being over-suspicious of anyone who tried to get near them, our man might well turn his attentions on us. After all, he will blame us for interfering with his crusade.’

  ‘So it’s a double-edged sword, isn’t it? We could draw his attention away from innocent victims and become victims ourselves, putting those closest to us in danger. A real rock and hard place situation. Still, I guess that’s what we are here for, isn’t it? To protect life?’ He looked at her.

  ‘It is, but I still need to take advice. Meanwhile, you crack on. I’m thinking that interviews with Brendan Symons’s family are going to be a priority?’

  Jackman nodded and stood up. ‘Without a doubt. Not something I’m looking forward to, but it should be sooner rather than later. After daily orders, I’ll take Marie and we’ll pay them a visit.’

  ‘Yes, Marie will be perfect if the interview gets tricky. Good luck, Rowan, and remember what I said about them. Tread warily. They still bear a grudge.’

  ‘I’m wondering how much to tell them. What do you think?’

  ‘I’ll leave that to you. You’ll need to gauge their reactions, but I know you’ll be diplomatic.’

  Jackman returned to the CID room. It was almost time for the meeting, but he wanted to tell Marie about Sarah’s recording before he spoke to everyone.

  Marie was sitting at her desk, staring at her computer screen. She looked up as he approached. ‘Still with us?’ she asked hopefully. ‘Ruth isn’t still twitchy about you as OIC, is she?’

  ‘Fingers crossed, the super seems pretty okay with it at present.’ He moved closer and lowered his voice. ‘And that’s mainly because I’ve found a witness who confirms categorically that Sarah was literally being hounded to death.’

  Marie’s eyes widened. ‘Really? Who?’

  ‘Sarah.’

  ‘What?’

  He took a breath. ‘She left a tape recording. Ella found it and rang me last night. It’s pretty harrowing, but there’s no doubt about what happened, and it’s most certainly to do with Lyndsay Ashcroft’s murder. I’m going to play it to the team, but I wanted you to know first.’

  ‘Appreciated.’ Marie stared at him. ‘So are we looking at the Aggrieved Family Symons as suspects?’

  ‘They are first in line to be interviewed. And you, my friend, have the honour of accompanying me, immediately after the meeting.’

  ‘I’m overwhelmed at your kind offer, though I’d be very happy to let someone else have the pleasure.’

  ‘Me too, but sadly the buck stops with us. Ruth’s orders.’

  ‘Bugger.’

  ‘And here I was thinking my sparkling personality would more than compensate.’

  ‘Sorry, boss, but no, it doesn’t.’ She glanced up at the clock. ‘Time to go address the troops.’

  * * *

  Jackman gave Robbie, Max and Rosie the job of finding everything they could about the Lyndsay Ashcroft trial. Charlie and Gary were to look into why Brendan Symons hanged himself.

  Jackman and Marie drove up to the north of the county to speak to the Symons family.

  ‘I’ve never been to this part.’ Marie overtook a slow-moving vehicle and put her foot down. ‘Nettleby Oaks sounds like quite a small village.’

  Jackman nodded. ‘I’ve not been there either, but from reading some of the transcripts, it sounds more like a hamlet. I looked it up before we left Saltern and the area’s very rural, not like the fens, but still sparsely populated. Nettleby is a bigger village. It has a school, a few shops and a couple of places to eat.’

  ‘And that’s where Lyndsay came from?’ asked Marie.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘What do we know about the Symons family, Jackman? I had a brief look at a couple of old reports, but apart from all the press coverage of their fight to clear Brendan’s name, there wasn’t much on the people themselves.’

  ‘They are a tight-knit bunch. From day one, they were adamant that Brendan was wrongly convicted.’ Jackman exhaled. ‘According to Ruth, there were quite a few coppers who agreed with them.’

  ‘Even in the face of all that forensic evidence? That’s a bit odd, isn’t it?’

  ‘Brendan was a likeable young man. He never denied having sex with Lyndsay, he just swore he never hurt her. Some of the interviewing officers made notes on their records that he seemed genuinely devastated about the girl’s death. One or two were never completely convinced that he was guilty.’

  ‘And the family? What are they like?’ Marie turned onto the B road that would take them to Nettleby.

  Jackman opened his notebook. ‘The father has passed away since the trial. That leaves the mother, Sheila Symons, and three brothers, Dale, Kenny and Liam — and two daughters, Yvette and Susie.’ He stared at his notes. ‘And there is also a small band of loyal friends who supported them throughout the trial and still do, as far as I can make out.’

  ‘Are we walking into the lion’s den?’

  ‘I think that sums it up, Marie. We need to be extremely wary.’

  ‘Lovely! Maybe they’ll be out.’ She paused. ‘Surely they don’t all live at home, do they? The
y must be well into their thirties and forties by now.’

  ‘Two, Kenny and Susie, are married, but I have no idea about the others. According to our records, Dale and Liam are still registered at the mother’s address, but I’ve no idea whether they actually live there.’

  ‘But they still keep up the campaign?’

  Jackman nodded. ‘They have never given up, not for a single day.’

  ‘This doesn’t bode well, does it? I can see why we need to be uber-diplomatic.’

  When they finally found Nettleby Oaks, the description “hamlet” seemed an exaggeration. Five House Lane, where the Symons family lived, was just that, a leafy lane with five farm cottages clustered together, overlooking a tapestry of tree-lined fields.

  ‘Bit different to our part of the county,’ murmured Marie, bringing the car to a halt. ‘Prettier, but I definitely prefer our wide open spaces.’

  They walked up to number two and Jackman rang the bell.

  They heard people moving around inside, but it was a while before anyone answered.

  The woman who opened the door looked at them suspiciously. She was short and plump, with short dark brown hair and hazel eyes. She was wearing faded jeans, a man’s shirt and a V-necked sweater. ‘Yes?’ She stood waiting, hands on hips.

  ‘It’s the bloody police, Sue, you can tell a mile off.’ A tall man came up behind the woman. His expression, too, was far from welcoming. ‘What do you lot want?’

  Jackman forced a smile and he and Marie showed them their warrant cards. ‘You are right, sir, we are the police. We need to speak to Mrs Sheila Symons on a matter of some urgency. Is she at home?’

  ‘Unless you’ve come to tell us that our brother’s name has been cleared, no, she isn’t.’

  ‘And you are? Dale or Kenny?’ asked Jackman. Liam, he knew, was younger than this man.

  ‘Dale Symons. But none of us wants to talk to you, so I suggest you just sod off.’ He made to close the door, but the woman put her hand on his arm.