Bring Them Home (Detective Karen Hart Book 1) Page 14

  Without raising her head, Rachel mumbled, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why are you sorry, Rachel?’ Karen asked, desperate for answers but not wanting to push the little girl, who was obviously very upset.

  Rachel sniffed and shot a look at her mother. ‘I didn’t tell you the whole truth earlier when I said I didn’t recognise the man.’

  ‘It’s important you tell me the truth now, Rachel. You understand that, don’t you?’

  Rachel nodded and stared down at the duvet.

  ‘Show the policewoman your arms,’ Sarah Macintosh ordered.

  Karen frowned as slowly Rachel pushed back the sleeves of her unicorn pyjamas. There were dark, ugly bruises on both arms, small in size but painful-looking.

  This was an unexpected development. ‘How did she get these?’ Karen asked, looking up at Mrs Macintosh.

  ‘From another girl in her class, Molly Greenwood. She’s been bullying Rachel.’

  Momentarily at a loss as to what this had to do with the man at the school gates, Karen turned her attention back to Rachel.

  ‘And is this why you didn’t want to tell the truth when I spoke to you?’

  Rachel gave another sniff, wiped her nose on the back of her hand and nodded.

  ‘Tell the police officer about Molly,’ Sarah Macintosh prompted her daughter.

  ‘Molly said I wasn’t allowed to tell anybody. She said if I did she’d beat me up and tell everyone not to talk to me.’

  Slowly the pieces were falling into place. ‘And Molly knows the man at the gate?’ Karen asked.

  Rachel nodded. ‘It was Molly’s dad. He left Molly’s mum, and she won’t let him come home, so he came to the school to see Molly, but he’s not supposed to. Molly didn’t want me to tell you in case he got into trouble.’

  Before Karen could ask another question, Sarah Macintosh cut in. ‘It’s been all around the village. He was violent, and Lydia Greenwood has an injunction against him. He’s only supposed to see Molly under supervision.’

  ‘And what is Molly’s father’s name?’

  Sarah replied, ‘Les Greenwood. He has a problem with alcohol too.’

  ‘Right, so the man at the gate was Les Greenwood, Molly’s dad. Is that what you’re telling me, Rachel?’

  Rachel wrapped her arms around herself and nodded again. ‘Yes,’ she replied in a small voice.

  Karen felt a wave of frustration. Not only did she not have the evidence she wanted against Jasper Palmer, but it looked as though they’d been chasing a false lead.

  Karen smiled and stood up. ‘Thank you, Rachel.’

  ‘You won’t tell Molly I told you, will you?’ she asked anxiously as Karen walked towards the door.

  ‘Molly shouldn’t be hurting you, Rachel. She’s the one who’ll be in trouble, not you.’ Karen turned to Sarah Macintosh. ‘You’ll be reporting this to the head teacher?’

  Sarah nodded firmly. She lowered her voice and led Karen out of Rachel’s bedroom. ‘Absolutely. I’m furious. What’ll happen now?’

  ‘We’ll have to speak to Les Greenwood, but I’d guess he did go to the school to talk to his daughter.’

  ‘I was furious when Rachel told me what Molly had been doing to her, but I do understand the girl’s been going through a rough patch. I’m going to talk to the head teacher but also Molly’s mother. We’ve always got on well in the past, and I think she’d want to know so she can nip Molly’s behaviour in the bud,’ Sarah said as they made their way down the stairs.

  When they reached the front door, Sarah asked, ‘Would you like a drink or something before you go?’

  Karen looked at her watch. ‘No, thanks, I’d better get going. Do you by any chance have an address for Molly’s mother or father?’

  ‘I have Molly’s mother’s address. I’m not sure where Les has been living. Do you want me to get it for you?’

  ‘That would be great.’ Karen followed her through a small sitting room and then into a large kitchen.

  Sarah plucked a piece of paper covered with cartoon balloons from under a magnet on the fridge and handed it to Karen. ‘It’s Molly’s birthday party next week, and their address is on the invitation.’

  Karen took a photograph of the invitation using her phone and then handed it back to Sarah Macintosh.

  ‘Thanks,’ Karen said. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’

  Karen was polite while she was still inside the house, but as soon as the front door closed behind her, she turned the air blue and stalked towards her car. She could feel Jasper Palmer slipping through her fingers. Chasing the man seen outside Washingborough School had been a waste of time.

  Once inside the car, she pulled out her mobile to fill in DI Morgan, apologising for calling so late. He promised her he’d let the duty officer know so no more time was wasted. They would still need to follow up with Les Greenwood just to confirm Rachel’s story.

  After she’d hung up, Karen put the phone in the circular cupholder in front of the handbrake and leaned her head back on the headrest. Somewhere out there were two scared little girls, and they didn’t seem to be getting any closer to finding them.

  DI Morgan had only just put the phone down after speaking to the inspector in charge of the night shift when his doorbell rang.

  He was renting an old two-bedroom terraced house in Canwick on a short-term basis until he’d decided whether he wanted to settle in Lincolnshire for the foreseeable future. As he walked along the dark, narrow corridor with its flagstone floor, he shivered at the draught that crept around the front door. The windows were just as bad. The house had character but was absolutely freezing.

  He’d put on a thick, fisherman-style jumper when he got home and changed into a pair of comfortable, faded jeans.

  He glanced at the Omega watch on his wrist and saw that it was almost midnight. Who would be ringing his doorbell at this time?

  It had to be something to do with work. He hadn’t got to know any of his neighbours. He worked long hours and wasn’t exactly sociable. He kept telling himself he’d go to the local pub and get to know people, but he hadn’t had much time for that yet.

  He opened the door and saw a woman shivering on his doorstep.

  ‘Julia, what are you doing here?’

  She gazed up at him through a thick fringe. ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in, Scott?’

  He took a step back and opened the door wide. ‘Of course, sorry. I wasn’t expecting you. We cancelled our date, didn’t we?’

  Julia stomped past him into the narrow hallway, and he shut the door behind her. He noticed she hadn’t brought an overnight bag. He looked at her in confusion and waited for her to explain.

  ‘You cancelled our date, Scott.’

  ‘Oh, I see. I’m sorry. But I really didn’t have a choice. We have a big case on at the moment.’

  She put her hand up to stop him talking. ‘I’m driving. So I can’t have a proper drink, but you could at least offer to make me a coffee.’

  ‘Of course.’

  He led the way into the kitchen.

  Julia still lived in Oxford, but he’d thought she was happy for them to continue with things as they were. He’d met her eight months ago. She was a solicitor, hard-working and ambitious, and wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship. Let’s just have some fun, she’d said and that had sounded appealing to DI Morgan.

  But from the bad-tempered look on Julia’s face tonight, fun was the last thing on her mind.

  DI Morgan filled the kettle and flicked the switch before retrieving a couple of mugs from the cupboard. ‘Is instant okay?’

  Julia rolled her eyes and pointed at the coffee machine she’d bought for his birthday. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  DI Morgan put his hands in his pockets and looked sheepish. ‘Nothing. I just ran out of ground coffee. I haven’t had time to go to the supermarket. Like I said, it’s this case and—’

  ‘I didn’t come all this way to talk about your current case, Scott,’ Julia said coldly.
‘I suppose instant will have to do.’

  Feeling wrong-footed, DI Morgan spooned instant coffee granules into the mugs and retrieved the milk from the fridge. She was angry with him, that much was clear, but he had no idea why. He’d cancelled their date but had given her ample notice. He’d sent the email yesterday. It occurred to him that perhaps she hadn’t received it.

  ‘Did you get my email?’

  Julia’s face tightened and she pursed her lips together.

  There was an awkward silence as he waited for her to answer and then he decided to get on with making the coffee. He poured hot water into the mugs.

  While he was adding the milk, Julia said, ‘I did get your email. And that’s what I want to talk to you about.’

  DI Morgan nodded as he handed her a steaming mug. ‘I should have called, shouldn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, at the very least.’ She shook her head. ‘This isn’t working, Scott.’

  DI Morgan picked up his own cup and chose his words carefully. ‘I thought everything was going okay. There are bound to be some road bumps in a long-distance relationship.’

  ‘It’s hardly a relationship. I see you barely twice a month, and it’s all so . . .’

  She looked around, searching for the right words, and waved a hand. ‘It’s all so businesslike.’

  Scott took the time to sip his coffee, feeling out of his depth.

  ‘Take tonight, for example,’ Julia said. ‘You were supposed to be having a couple of days off so we could spend some time together, and out of the blue, I get an email informing me you have to work. You don’t even bother to call me.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ DI Morgan said carefully. ‘I should have been more considerate.’

  ‘It’s just not going anywhere,’ Julia said.

  ‘Where did you want it to go?’ DI Morgan said, genuinely perplexed.

  Julia put her coffee down on the kitchen counter. ‘You really are impossible.’

  ‘I don’t know what I’ve done wrong, Julia. You said you weren’t interested in a long-term, committed relationship.’

  ‘I know what I said. But I didn’t expect it to be like this. I need something more.’

  DI Morgan nodded slowly. ‘I see. Well, I could try—’

  ‘We have tried, Scott, but until you deal with your problems, you’ll never be able to open up and have a proper relationship.’ She sighed. ‘What happened to you? I know something did, but you never talk about it.’

  DI Morgan tensed. ‘There’s no point talking about the past. Why don’t we take some time to—’

  ‘No, it’s not going to work. You’re too cold and contained.’ She looked away, unable to meet his gaze.

  ‘You’ve met someone else,’ DI Morgan said.

  ‘That’s not the point. That isn’t what I came here to talk about.’

  ‘Isn’t it?’

  ‘No, and don’t try to shift the blame on to me. We’re breaking up because emotionally you don’t give me anything, and you never give any thought to my feelings.’

  ‘So we’re breaking up?’

  ‘Yes.’ Julia ran a hand through her hair and sighed. ‘This isn’t going how I planned. I was supposed to be angry with you, but you’re just looking at me like you’re confused.’

  ‘That’s because I am confused. I thought things were fine.’

  ‘Well, they’re not.’

  ‘Is there anything I can do to change that?’

  Julia shook her head. ‘No, it’s just who you are, Scott. And it’s not enough for me.’

  ‘You came all the way to Lincoln tonight to tell me that?’

  She turned on him and her eyes narrowed in irritation. ‘Yes, because that’s the decent thing to do. Let somebody down in person. Did you think I’d do it over email?’

  ‘I’m not sure what you want me to say.’

  Julia’s shoulders slumped, and she sighed. ‘And that’s the problem, Scott.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The following morning, DC Rick Cooper was running late. Everything was against him. He’d intended to get to work early and go through a few more reported sightings of the girls. Most of them were probably cases of mistaken identity, but they still had to be examined in detail before they could be ruled out. But at this rate, he wouldn’t be there early. He wouldn’t even be on time.

  ‘Come on, Mum,’ Rick said, leaning on the kitchen table. ‘You know I have to go to work.’

  His mother sat shivering in her wheelchair, but she refused to put on her pink dressing gown. Rick hadn’t expected his mother to wake an hour earlier than normal this morning. It had royally scuppered his plans for an early start.

  ‘You can’t leave me here,’ she insisted. ‘Not again.’

  Rick took a deep breath and tried to keep his patience. ‘Look, you’re going to catch your death. Let me help you with your dressing gown, and then I’ll make you a nice cup of tea before Lauren gets here.’

  Rick glanced at the clock. His sister, Lauren, wasn’t due for another half an hour.

  ‘No, I don’t want my dressing gown. There’s something wrong with it.’

  Rick frowned and looked down at the pink fleecy dressing gown. He’d bought his mother this one a couple of months ago because her older one had been made of a heavier material and really wasn’t suitable. The fleece one was much better. It washed and dried quickly and was lightweight but still kept her warm.

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’

  ‘It’s got bits on it and they itch me.’

  Rick turned it over in his hands, examining the fleece for any areas that could irritate her skin. But it looked perfectly fine to him. His mother had been wearing it for the last two months without any complaints.

  Feeling he was losing the battle, Rick put the dressing gown over the back of the kitchen chair, wishing he hadn’t already put the old one in the local charity clothes bin.

  ‘All right. We’ll leave the dressing gown. What about a cup of tea to warm you up?’

  His mother pushed her grey-streaked hair back from her face and nodded. ‘Go on then.’

  Rick flicked the switch on the kettle and then set about making them both some toast.

  He pushed his mother’s wheelchair up to the table. ‘Are you comfortable enough there or do you want me to help you into a chair?’

  ‘Of course I want to sit in a chair,’ she said, looking at him as though he’d lost his marbles. Even though, according to Lauren, she’d wanted to stay in her wheelchair for dinner last night, saying it was more comfortable.

  Rick helped his mother out of the wheelchair and into one of the hardback chairs beside the table. He felt a fluttery panic in his chest when he noticed how light she was. Her bones felt so fragile he feared they might snap if he held her too tightly.

  ‘Do you need a cushion, Mum?’

  His mother shook her head, picked up a piece of toast and dug in.

  Rick was relieved to see her eat. For some time, her appetite hadn’t been great, and she’d been losing weight at a rapid clip. The doctors weren’t much help, only prescribing a few gloopy, unappealing milkshakes to try and bulk her up.

  They ate their toast in silence, and when his mother had cleared her plate, Rick decided to try again. ‘I’m working on an important case at the moment, Mum. That’s why I need to be at work early and stay quite late. But Lauren’s going to stay longer this week to look after you. You’ll have a great time. Maybe she can dig out the puzzles again.’ Rick smiled.

  His mother narrowed her eyes. ‘No, I’m not having her in my house.’

  ‘Lauren is your daughter, Mum,’ Rick said gently. Just last week his mother had thought Rick was his uncle Terry, and she’d insisted she’d never seen Lauren before. But that episode had been short-lived, and Rick desperately hoped it was a one-off.

  ‘I know who she is,’ his mother said bossily, sounding more like her old self. ‘But I’m still not having her in my house.’

  Now Rick was really confused. ‘Why not? Lau
ren always looks after you during the day.’

  ‘I don’t need looking after. I’m not a child,’ she snapped.

  Rick didn’t quite know how to respond. His mother had always been close to Lauren, and she’d been so proud of them both.

  ‘She wants to get rid of me. She wants to see me dead and buried so she can get her hands on this house.’

  Rick’s jaw dropped open, and a moment passed before he could gather his wits to reply. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. Lauren would never do that.’

  ‘Don’t speak to me like that. I’ll have you know, she tried to kill me yesterday. She just waits until you’re not here.’ She leaned forward over the kitchen table. ‘She tried to give me too many tablets.’ She winked at Rick. ‘But I’m not stupid. I don’t take them. I just pretend and then spit them out when she’s not looking.’

  ‘Mum, you need those tablets. The doctor prescribed them.’

  Was this why she’d been getting worse? He knew it was coming, of course. The doctor had told them she wasn’t going to get any better. There was nothing reversible about early-onset dementia, but Rick had been shocked at how quickly she’d deteriorated. If she hadn’t been taking her pills, that was one possible explanation.

  Rick thought maybe he should be in charge of the medicine from now on.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘How about I give you your tablets?’

  His mother thought about that and then nodded. ‘All right, boy. I know you’ve only got my best interests at heart.’

  She gave him a smile that reminded him of how his mother used to be. And to his horror, Rick’s eyes filled with tears. He quickly walked out of the kitchen and along the hallway to the downstairs bathroom.

  They’d fitted a small lock on the bathroom cabinet, just in case. When his mother used to take her tablets on her own, Rick always feared she might take too many one day because she’d forgotten that she’d already taken some. He unlocked the cabinet and selected the three bottles of pills and then carried them back into the kitchen.