Evil Games Read online

  ‘Well, they have her now.’ She couldn’t really have cared less.

  ‘Is she okay?’

  ‘Barry, I think you need to concentrate on yourself first. We’ll talk about Amelia in a minute.’

  ‘I want to see her.’

  And there sailed by another opportunity to get him back over the ledge safely. She waved it goodbye.

  This was the first opportunity she’d had to question a case study after the act. Ruth’s pathetic confession had robbed her of that opportunity already. She’d exercised caution when Kim had been close by. It was important to her to gain the detective’s respect. But now they were speaking privately, the collection of data was her top priority.

  ‘How did you feel, Barry?’

  He visibly paled. For Alex, the events that had unfolded were beyond her wildest dreams; the fact that her manipulations had been strong enough to incite such a high level of violence was an A plus for her. The perfect result would have been if the kid got it as well, and Barry hadn’t caused this high-profile suicide drama but she’d work with what she had.

  ‘I don’t remember doing it.’ He shook his head. ‘I knew what I’d done but I couldn’t remember actually doing it. I remember dragging Amelia out of the house. She was crying so I panicked and put her in the boot of the car. Then I went back and set fire to the house. I just wanted to destroy all trace of what had happened. Jesus, I don’t know what I was thinking.’

  His eyes met hers and in them she saw a ridiculous shadow of hope. ‘They are dead, aren’t they?’

  ‘Oh yes, Barry. They’re dead.’ The detective inspector’s sign hadn’t confirmed who was dead but someone was. Alex preferred he have nothing to live for.

  ‘So, what drove you to consider suicide? Was it just the fear of being caught and punished?’

  Please say yes, she prayed. The fear of being caught was a concern only for the consequences of his actions. How it would affect him. Actual remorse was a different thing entirely.

  He thought for a moment and she fought to hide her expectation. She felt like shaking the answer from his mouth. All she needed was one positive result.

  He nodded and Alex almost reached over and kissed him. Barry had done it. He had proven her point. He had carried out a heinous crime and done so without guilt. The failures, the disappointments, had all been worth it.

  Barry continued talking.

  ‘At first, yeah. I was still panicking about what I’d done and couldn’t bear the thought of ending up back inside. But once I got up here the memories started coming back to me. I could see Lisa’s face, full of fear and hate, gasping for air.’

  A tear escaped from his left eye and travelled down his cheek. Others followed and within seconds he was crying like a big baby.

  Repulsion coursed through her. For just one moment he had been her triumph. He had been the result she’d been searching for. Briefly he had proven her right but now the guilt was written into every feature on his face.

  ‘Oh Barry, that’s such a shame.’

  ‘I don’t know how I could have done that to her. I love her. And Adam’s my brother. How could I just leave them there to die? What kind of man am I to do this to people I love? Amelia will grow up without a mother because of me.’

  Alex hadn’t quite meant that. Her disappointment was at his failure to perform but she let it go, along with her hopes of a positive result.

  For the second time her research had been destroyed by her fucking nemesis: guilt.

  Oh lord, how she abhorred disappointment.

  ‘No, she won’t, Barry.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Amelia won’t grow up without a mother.’

  That ridiculous hope again widened his eyes. ‘You mean Lisa isn’t …’

  Alex shook her head. ‘I mean Amelia won’t grow up at all. She died in the boot of the car. You killed your daughter too, Barry. They’re all gone.’

  The words she spoke were soft and final.

  A look of total despair shaped his features.

  He looked into her eyes, searching for the truth. A slight nod gave him the answer and she allowed the coldness in her eyes to reflect the gravity of his actions.

  He let go of the railing and fell to the ground.

  ‘Barry, no,’ she cried, reaching for him. It was an empty gesture. She was glad he’d let go.

  Kim ran towards her. ‘What the fuck happened?’ she screamed looking over the railing.

  Alex moved away from the edge of the car park and the sight below. She formed her expression into a state of shock.

  Kim grabbed her arm roughly and turned her so they were face to face. Kim’s body shook with rage. ‘Tell me, what the hell just happened?’

  ‘Oh my God … oh my … I can’t believe … oh Jesus …’

  ‘What was he saying? Why did he jump?’

  Alex wrung her trembling hands. ‘I don’t know, I don’t know what happened. I think he realised what he’d done and he couldn’t live with it.’

  Alex could see the detective wasn’t quite buying it.

  ‘But he knew what he’d done. I heard him tell you what he’d done almost an hour ago. Why did he jump now?’

  Alex summoned a few tears. ‘I don’t know.’

  Kim opened her mouth but the sound of her mobile ringing stopped her.

  ‘Yeah, Bryant?’

  She listened for a couple of seconds and then looked over the railing. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. They worked?’

  She listened to his response and then switched the phone off and put it back in her jacket pocket.

  ‘Canopy broke his fall. He’s not dead. Yet.’

  ‘Thank God,’ Alex breathed, while her mind screamed, Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

  Kim grabbed her by the arm. ‘You’re coming with me. We both have questions to answer.’

  Alex allowed herself to be guided by the detective. Just this once.

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  Police constable Whiley’s home was a three-bed semi-detached house built in the Fifties. A tidy porch jutted out from the property with a colourless dried flower arrangement as decoration.

  The day had been dry and the front garden bore the sight and smell of the first grass cut of the year.

  Kim suspected Mrs Whiley was putting her husband’s free time to good use. Training for his forthcoming retirement.

  ‘Good to get out though, eh?’ Bryant said, knocking on the door.

  Kim nodded her agreement. The incident with Barry had produced a small forest of paperwork which had kept them busy for most of the day.

  The door was opened by a woman dressed in navy cotton trousers and a sweatshirt. A few damp blades of grass clung to the hem of her slacks. Maybe she hadn’t been training her husband after all.

  Her face was round and pleasant, framed by a greying hazel bob that fell an inch below her ears.

  ‘May I help you?’

  ‘Detective Sergeant Bryant. Detective Inspector Stone. May we speak to your husband?’

  Her expression altered slightly.

  ‘He’s on holiday.’

  Bryant didn’t miss a beat.

  ‘It’s just a couple of questions to do with a case …’

  ‘Barbara … let them in,’ Whiley’s voice called from the end of the hallway.

  Kim entered and headed towards Whiley’s position at the back of the house. A second sitting room was positioned next to the galley kitchen. The room was small but uncluttered, a single chair facing the window with a matching two-seater separating the room from the kitchen.

  She and Bryant both sat at the same time. It was a snug fit.

  ‘You haven’t told her you’re on suspension?’ Bryant asked as soon as Whiley closed the adjoining door.

  Whiley shook his head and sat on the single seat. ‘No point. I don’t want to worry her.’

  He removed his reading glasses and placed them on a small table to the left of his chair.

  ‘Barbara’s worked as a cleaner for forty-two yea
rs. She’s counting the days until I retire. The mortgage is paid and my pension, together with a bit we’ve put aside, should see us okay.’

  ‘How long can you keep this story going?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘Dunno. I’m hoping the force will realise soon that it had nothing to do with me. It’s not like I could have stopped him.’

  Kim marvelled at his calm demeanour. Whiley was far more concerned about the repercussions from his wife than the outcome of the disciplinary hearing.

  Bryant sat forward as the door opened.

  Barbara stepped inside. ‘Tea … coffee …?’

  Bryant shook his head.

  ‘White coffee, no sugar, please,’ Kim said. Whiley would want his wife occupied while this conversation took place.

  She felt for this officer. He’d offered his whole working life to the police force and his retirement was in jeopardy because of the actions of someone else.

  Barbara left the adjoining door open. Whiley stood to close it. A shadow passed the doorway.

  ‘Ha, young lady, you’re not going out like that,’ Whiley said, looking the figure up and down.

  Kim craned her neck to see a girl about eighteen years of age coming down the stairs. Her skirt was tight and black and barely the width of a tea towel. Black stockings, a leather jacket and one earlobe enlarged by a central ring completed the look.

  Kim had seen worse and from the murderous look of disgust the girl offered her father, so had she.

  The girl said nothing to Whiley, mumbled something to her mother and left through the front door.

  Whiley sighed before closing the door and sitting in the single seat.

  Kim marvelled at the knowledge that out there on the streets of the Black Country Whiley commanded respect and obedience. As an officer of the law, he was a figure of immediate authority. In his own home he lied to his wife and had no control over his daughter.

  ‘So, we need to know more about the night you visited the Dunn house,’ Kim said, moving the conversation along.

  He wrinkled his nose. ‘Nothing to tell, really. Just a routine domestic.’

  Kim waited for more. Nothing came.

  ‘There was someone else involved and we need …’

  ‘What do you mean by someone else?’ Whiley asked, sitting forward.

  ‘In the basement. When Dunn abused Daisy.’

  He let out a whistle. ‘Jeesus.’

  Bryant slid forward on the sofa. ‘If you could just talk us through the night two months ago when you visited the Dunn household. We’ve already spoken to Jenks. He told us they’d been arguing about some teacher. Can you tell us any more?’

  Whiley looked up to the ceiling as Barbara entered with a mug of coffee for Kim. She nodded her thanks before Barbara exited the room and closed the door.

  ‘We got the call at tea time or thereabouts. Jenks was driving. He knew where it was and got us there within a few minutes. I know Dunn was still shouting when we arrived.’

  ‘Did you take him into the kitchen?’

  ‘Yeah, normal practice,’ he said, defensively.

  ‘Of course,’ Bryant said. ‘Did he say anything while you were in there?’

  ‘Just raging about this teacher who’d tried to say something wasn’t right with Daisy. I could empathise with the bloke. We were told our Laura had learning difficulties and it was a load of rubbish. Some of these teachers get a bit too involved in people’s business. So, I just calmed him down, told him I agreed with him.’

  ‘Jenks said Mrs Dunn was on the phone when you arrived?’ Bryant asked.

  ‘Yeah, don’t know who she was talking to. Jenks dealt with her and the kids until I brought Dunn back into the room.’

  ‘Jenks mentioned a look from Daisy. He said he thought she was trying to tell him something. Did you notice anything?’

  Whiley rolled his eyes. ‘He’s imagining it. I was the one who sent them off to bed and I didn’t see any look.’ He smiled, indulgently. ‘He’s a kid, thinks he sees things everywhere. The girls were a bit nervous ’cos of the shouting but nothing out of the ordinary.’

  Kim stood. They were learning nothing.

  Bryant followed suit. ‘Well, if anything else comes to mind …’

  ‘You know, I’ve just remembered something. The reason Dunn was so agitated. It was ’cos the teacher had come to the house. Yeah, that was it. He was angry ’cos the teacher had brought the girls home.’

  Once outside, Kim turned to Bryant.

  ‘Dawson interviewed the teacher during the investigation, right?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Well, I think she’s worth another shot,’ Kim said, feeling her spirits lift.

  They had learned something, after all.

  Kim already knew that Wendy was not the person in the basement but if the teacher had managed to voice her concerns on that first visit, had the woman covered for her husband? And if so, did she know the identity of the person who was in the room?

  It was a question that needed to be answered.

  THIRTY-NINE

  Kim parked the car and sat for a moment, bracing herself against the wind that rocked her vehicle from side to side.

  From her first day of training, Kim had firmly believed that people should pay for crimes they committed. During her career, any unsolved case was like an open wound in her skin. She didn’t believe in extenuating circumstances. It was black and white; you pay for what you do.

  She knew that Bryant thought she was crazy for suspecting Doctor Thorne of any involvement in the murder of Allan Harris, and in part she had to agree with him, but the events with Barry Grant would not compute in her mind.

  For herself there would be no enquiry, as it was felt she had taken all ‘reasonably practicable steps to ensure a positive outcome’. Basically, the idea of erecting garden gazebos had saved both her ass and Barry’s. Finding Amelia hadn’t hurt her case either.

  The doctor had scored brownie points for having skilfully kept Barry on the ledge long enough for the gazebos to be snapped into place.

  Objectively Kim could understand that. But she’d been up there as well and towards the end of the conversation between Barry and the doctor, he had been talkative, animated. That didn’t seem to be the demeanour of a person about to end their own life. She’d been to other jumpers and every minute mattered. She’d never seen one who had bothered to hang around for almost an hour and still jump.

  She turned to the dog in the rear seat. ‘Okay, Barney, this is it. Bark once if you see anyone coming.’

  She got out of the car, climbed over the metal gate and entered the cemetery. As she walked up the hill any illumination from the street lights faded. She kept to the path until she reached the bench on which she’d sat with Alex a week earlier. They had walked up a few steps, so Kim started her search there. She took the torch from her pocket and moved along the rows of gravestones, saddened by the lives cut short.

  She travelled to the very bottom of the hill and back up again, more slowly, making sure. When she arrived back at the row that was level with the bench, she knew there was no grave marker that was less than ten years old and certainly no resting place of a male and two boys.

  She blew a kiss to the top of the hill towards the grave of her brother.

  FORTY

  The appeal of the Cotswolds was lost on Alex. Labelled an ‘area of outstanding beauty’, she had substituted the last word to boredom after passing through one sleepy village after another. Her journey had ended at Bourton-on-the-Water. Alex remembered reading that the area was rich in fossils. And most of them appeared to still live here, she thought, as she glanced around the village hub.

  Stone buildings lined each side of the street, all individually owned shops that had probably been trading for two hundred years. Her brief appraisal confirmed there was no chain store in sight, not even a Costa or Starbucks. For Alex, that said it all. How the hell did these people survive?

  If nothing else, the fifty-mile journey had be
en successful in cleansing her of the disappointment of Barry Grant. Initially, her expectations had been exceeded at the news he’d tried to murder his beloved wife and his brother.

  For a few moments, standing on the top of that car park in the biting wind, Alex had felt he could be the one. A true sociopath could never find a sense of moral responsibility; could never defy their innate nature and feel guilt. But her experiment required only one success. One person to defy their true nature and momentarily, Barry had been her triumph.

  And then he’d opened his mouth again.

  His pathetic bellyaching about ‘red mist’ and the overwhelming guilt he felt had tempted her to push him forward herself. Luckily, Alex’s lie about his daughter had been enough to provoke the desired action.

  She had been surprised that he’d lived through the fall, but only just. He was hooked up to life support, being kept alive by machines. And, although he wasn’t dead, he wasn’t far off. The physicians were not hopeful for any kind of recovery. Good enough.

  Her disappointment in Barry was tempered with her excitement about Kim. The detective was a tantalising project into which she was compelled to delve deeper. It was her interest in Kim which had brought her to this godforsaken backwater.

  Alex headed over to the designated meeting place, an establishment that offered an entire day’s sustenance: breakfast, brunch, lunch, afternoon tea, coffee, and she would imagine, for them, the exotic new inventions of cappuccinos and paninis.

  She entered through a waist-high gate and noted that the only table occupied outside was by a portly male, completely bald but for a skirt of hair that travelled the back of his head from ear to ear. He wore glasses on the tip of his nose and appeared transfixed by the Kindle he was holding. In his left hand was a cigarette, explaining his residency outside.

  Alex felt he was a safe bet and approached the table. ‘Henry Reed?’

  The male looked up and smiled. He stood and offered his hand. ‘Doctor Thorne?’