The Lies Within Read online

  The toddler tugged at the harness straps. “Want to come out,” she repeated, a frown spreading across her chubby little face.

  “How about we go for some cake and you can come out and sit with Granny in a big chair? Would you like that?” Meggy’s face brightened. “Let’s see what Mummy says.”

  Chloe turned. “That sounds like a lovely idea.” Grace started to push the stroller towards the exit when Chloe’s voice suddenly rang out. “Oh, what about this one?”

  Grace stopped and looked back at a skirt and top combination in a deep red that Chloe held out at arm’s length. She angled her head, nodded as Chloe moved across to a nearby mirror and pressed it against herself. “Might cover my baby bumps,” Chloe said with a smile. “What do you think?”

  The heat in the store was reaching nauseating levels. “Why don’t you get it?” Grace said. “You could always bring it back if it doesn’t fit?”

  Chloe nodded. She moved in front of the pushchair as they turned towards the till. And froze. “Grace, where’s Meggy?”

  Grace shot forward. The chair was empty, the harness straps strewn aside. “She was here a moment ago. I was talking to her.”

  Chloe dropped the clothes to the floor. “Meggy!” she called, her eyes darting about.

  They moved around the area, pulling back skirts, dresses, suits. Glancing under rails. Meggy loved to play hide and seek and Grace expected to see the toddler’s face suddenly poke out and say, ‘Boo!’, followed by her infectious chuckle, as if it was some kind of game.

  They widened their search, asked other customers. People joined in. It seemed almost the whole store were searching and calling for Meggy, yet there was still no sign of her.

  Grace could feel the panic rising inside her. She longed to catch a glimpse of the chubby little legs, the funny upturned nose. Any minute she would. Surely? But there was nothing. She rushed to the tills, pushed past the queue to the front. The assistant, a young woman with perfect make-up raised a manicured brow. “It’s my granddaughter,” Grace panted. “She’s disappeared.”

  “Grace!” Chloe was standing by the entrance, her white fingers trembling against the stroller handles. “This lady saw her. Said she left the store.”

  Grace looked past Chloe at the elderly woman behind her.

  “She was heading to the sweet shop. I thought she was on her own, I did a double-take, but she was walking right behind a woman with a stroller so I assumed they were together.” Her words trailed off as they darted out into the shopping centre towards the old fashioned sweet shop opposite with its colourful window display. The empty pushchair juddered as they weaved in and out of the shoppers. Chloe rushed to the till, her words spilling together as she asked if they’d seen her daughter.

  The assistant shook her head. “I haven’t seen her.” She touched Chloe’s arm briefly. “Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll be nearby. I’ll call centre security. They’ll put out a tannoy message, check the cameras and ask people to look out for her.”

  Chloe gave her a brief description and shuddered. “Grace. We have to do something!”

  “Don’t panic. She’s only been gone a few minutes. She can’t be far away.” Grace left the store, her head in a whirlwind. Just then, a hand touched her shoulder. She turned. It was the elderly woman from the other store. The woman that had seen Meggy leave. “You didn’t find her?”

  Grace shook her head. Quick, short bursts.

  The woman’s face stiffened. She looked from one to another. “I’d like to help.”

  “That’s kind of you…”

  “Pam.”

  “Thank you, Pam. The shop manager is alerting security. We need to split up. She has to be somewhere on this floor.” Grace glanced at Chloe. She looked as though she was about to faint. “You and Chloe go left. I’ll take the other side.”

  Without giving it another thought, Grace ran back up the shopping centre towards the exit, searching for a sign of Meggy. She stopped a woman with two small girls, a man on his own, a pair of mums with prams. The heat in her neck rose with every head shake.

  Grace reached the escalator and looked up at the moving metal staircase. Meggy loved the escalator, often asked to ride on it several times. Sometimes Grace had wondered if it was the highlight of her shopping trip. Surely she hadn’t travelled up there alone? For a split second she hesitated, gave another look around. Beyond the escalator was the door. The tips of her fingers just touched the rail when she heard the announcement. It was blurred, muffled by the background noise in the centre. A Queen song blared out from a shop nearby. But they definitely mentioned a small child…

  Grace whisked around. She recalled seeing a sign for security near the toilets. Her blood thumped in her ears as she picked up speed, weaving in and out of people, knocking into shoulders and bags as she ran.

  As soon as she turned the corner she saw the edge of Meggy’s yellow jacket. The toddler was sitting on the desk, thudding her heels against it as she swung her legs. A woman was stood in front of the child with her back to Grace. She was clearly talking to Meggy because Grace could hear the toddler giggle as she approached.

  Grace bypassed the woman and threw her arms around Meggy. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said. She checked her face, her hands. Kissed her cheek.

  “Hello, Granny.” Meggy looked completely unfazed by the drama she’d created. She thumped her heels against the desk again.

  Grace didn’t hear the rush of footsteps behind her. “Oh, my darling…” She was jostled aside as Chloe grabbed hold of Meggy. “You gave me such a fright,” Chloe said, hugging her tightly, stroking her hair.

  Suddenly Grace remembered the other woman nearby. She looked across, and started. It was Faye, the woman she’d met briefly in Phil’s shop last week. “Oh, it’s you!”

  Faye looked equally puzzled. “You’re Meggy’s grandmother?”

  Grace nodded.

  “I should get going,” Pam said, checking her watch. “I have to pick my mother up at three.”

  In all the kerfuffle Grace had completely forgotten the other woman who’d helped Chloe. She shook her hand, thanked her. Chloe released herself from Meggy for a brief moment to give her thanks. As they watched her go, Chloe looked across at Grace, standing awkwardly next to Faye. “You two know each other?” she said.

  “Yes.” Grace could hear the squeak in her voice. She felt exhausted.

  “We’re old friends, well acquaintances really. From school.” Faye smiled gently as she spoke.

  “Oh. Well, thanks,” Chloe said. “Where did you find her?”

  “Glad to be able to help,” Faye said. “Her face was pressed up against the sweet shop when I saw her. She seemed to be alone, so I went over.” She looked back at Grace. “She told me she came out of the shop opposite to have a look at the sweets. We went back to the clothing store and looked for you.”

  “We were in there, searching,” Chloe said.

  “I don’t know how we missed you.”

  “It was busy,” Grace said. The thought of Meggy leaving so easily, talking to strangers… It was almost too much to bear.

  Meggy opened the palm of her hand to reveal a scrunched up bag of Skittles. She handed it to her mother. “Where did you get this?” Chloe asked her.

  Meggy looked at Faye. “I bought them for her,” Faye said. “When we couldn’t find you she got a bit tearful. I picked them up from the kiosk on the way to security.” Nobody spoke for a moment. “I’m sorry, did I do the wrong thing? She’s not diabetic or anything, is she? She did say her mum let her have sweets.”

  “No. Thank you. For finding her. Keeping her safe.” Tears dripped off Chloe’s chin as she spoke. The toddler squirmed in an effort to get away, as she kissed her forehead again.

  “Why are you crying, Mummy?” Meggy said.

  At that moment a wave of exhaustion swamped Grace, sucking the very breath from her lungs. She glanced across at Chloe. Her face was blotchy, eyes swollen. “We need to get you
home,” she said. “I think we’ve had enough drama for one day.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Terry Barnes was a tall spindly man with a head of dark, unruly hair and a warm smile. “Okay,” he said to the room. “I’ve read through both the cases. Let’s look at the information we have.”

  He stood at the front of the room and held up a sheet of paper in his hand, the gesture exposing a scrawny white wrist. “Don’t worry about taking notes, I’ve made you all a copy.”

  Jackman smiled inwardly. No laptops, no flipchart, no PowerPoint presentation. Some of the profilers they’d used in the past were academics who seemed out of touch with the real world. Barnes was highly decorated and frequently contributed to Policing Now magazine. He’d assisted on major investigations all over the country, none of which he felt the need to share with the team today, which was a refreshing approach. His results would speak for him.

  “The attacks are sexually motivated which generally means we are looking for an adult male,” Barnes continued. “If he acted alone, which is more likely I’d say, he’d be of reasonable build. He managed to get the strapping around their neck and pulled it tight while they struggled. That indicates a level of strength. Age likely to be between 20 and 60 years old. Works alone. More than likely lives alone too. No forensics means he is meticulous, fastidious about cleanliness and systematic.

  “Tall,” he continued. “We know Eugenie is almost six foot. Somebody smaller would have had a problem stretching the strapping over her neck.

  “He lives in the Leicestershire area. Eugenie was attacked on waste ground in Oadby. Jo was picked up somewhere near the centre of Harborough and her body was dumped in a back road leading out of the town. Whoever did this has a good knowledge of the locality, knew that these areas were relatively quiet at night, which meant he wasn’t putting himself at risk of being caught.

  “He had use of a vehicle. He had to manoeuvre Jo’s body about, so not a three door. More likely a van I’d say. Given the way that we believe Jo was taken in the town centre he needs to be relatively unremarkable in appearance, not someone that would stand out.

  “These weren’t chance attacks. The methodology is the same as the first attack, but the sexual motive is different. I understand you’re looking at the possibility of a copycat?”

  Jackman nodded and explained the charge against Oliver Turner.

  “Okay. If this is someone different, it’s possible he was interrupted with Eugenie, couldn’t finish what he started. But he did remove her shoes.”

  “That doesn’t make sense,” a voice piped up from the back of the room. McDonald scratched his head. “He left personal items at Jo’s scene.”

  “But he took her clothes,” Barnes said. “He likes to keep something of theirs. Maybe he went too far with the strangulation with Jo, and that’s why he left items nearby to indicate her identity.” He turned back to the room. “So, we are looking for a well-built male with a good knowledge of Leicestershire. He either lives here, or has lived here at some stage and still maintains a working knowledge of the area. Any questions?”

  The room stayed quiet. Jackman felt breath on his neck. “You know what, sir?” Wilson whispered. “He’s just described Oliver Turner.”

  Carmela stepped forward and thanked Barnes. “Okay, everyone. Let’s re-visit the statements taken already. We can start with the ones from the nearby industrial estate. Focus on adult males with an evening job, and night workers. Ask for DNA samples to match against the blood found on the earring. Also look at ex-employees, people who deliver to the area and taxi drivers. Take another look at their alibis. Interview them again if you need to. It’s just over three weeks since the murder. The public want an arrest. Let’s see if we can give them one.”

  ***

  Grace frowned as she looked up from her dinner. The table seemed to swamp Phil and her as they sat together in the kitchen that evening. Lydia had gone to visit a friend straight from school; Lucky snored softly from her bed.

  In truth Grace hadn’t felt in the slightest like cooking since the event at the shopping centre the other day, but somehow it seemed important to keep going, to show Phil she could cope. She’d opted for a quick spaghetti carbonara tonight, although she’d only managed to tuck away a couple of mouthfuls. The smell of the bacon lingered, playing havoc with her queasy stomach.

  “Thank you for looking after Chloe and Meggy.” Phil said. “Chloe was explaining how brilliant you’d been.”

  Grace averted her gaze. At Chloe’s insistence they’d phoned Phil at work to let him know what had happened and that they were safe. He’d called in to see his daughter, to check on them, several times since.

  “I’m proud of you,” he said.

  Grace shook her head, as if it was nothing. Although it wasn’t nothing. The scars of almost losing Meggy so closely after Jo had already penetrated deep. After leaving Faye, she’d rushed them up to the car park, bundled them all into the car. Chloe didn’t argue when Grace insisted on driving her back, staying with them until Matt arrived home from work. But by the time she’d left them and driven home herself the tide of adrenalin was passing and she was reminded of the frantic terror. And guilt. Guilt that bred by the hour, festering inside her. Meggy had climbed out of the pushchair on her watch. Once again, she’d missed something.

  Phil swallowed another mouthful of pasta before he spoke. “Chloe wants to do something. For Faye.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “That was the lady’s name, wasn’t it? The lady that found Meggy?”

  Grace nodded.

  “Chloe said you knew her?”

  “It was the same lady that we bumped into at the supermarket last week.”

  “Thank goodness she was there,” he said.

  Grace rolled her fork in the pasta, over and over again. Not for the first time, she recalled Chloe’s ghostly face, the panic as she searched for Meggy, the first sighting of her sitting on the counter, chubby legs tapping against the desk as she chatted to Faye. Many a time since, she’d replayed those fraught moments. It could have all been so different.

  “Do you have her contact details?” Phil continued.

  Grace thought back to the meeting in the supermarket, her search for the number afterwards. For a moment she sat silently until the memorial message on Facebook prodded her. She was pretty convinced now it was the same woman. She could probably respond, send her a private message there. “I think so.”

  “Good. Speak to Chloe. See if you can set something up. She’s torn between counselling Meggy about talking to strangers and teaching her to say thank you. Might help on both counts that you know this woman.” His fork scraped across the plate as he finished the last of his food. “Might be good for you to catch up with your old friend again too.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Grace adjusted Meggy to a more comfortable position on her lap. The café was teeming, the inclement weather forcing people off the streets, so much so, they’d had a job to find a table when they arrived. Thick raindrops and condensation shrouded the window, obscuring the view of the outside world and making it feel oppressively hot in the small area.

  Chloe pushed the coats back and shifted position on the bench beside them. “Have you said thank you to Faye for the colouring book?” she asked her daughter.

  The toddler was breathing heavily, head down, concentrating on keeping her red crayon inside the lines of a fairy’s hat. “Thank you, Faye,” she said without looking up.

  Faye’s face glowed. Although she’d played down her role, she’d clearly been pleased when Grace had contacted her and invited her out for a coffee. Grace stared at her now and felt a pang. At the supermarket she’d mentioned recently moving back to the area. Perhaps she hadn’t built up much of a friendship group yet.

  “It was my pleasure,” Faye said. “I thought you looked just like the sort of little girl that would be good at colouring and I was right. You’re doing a grand job there.”

  The
toddler tossed her head to the side, exposing the corner of a wide grin.

  “You really shouldn’t have,” Chloe said, licking her finger and wiping it across the plate to catch the last crumbs of chocolate cake. “We were supposed to be treating you. To say thanks for helping Meggy the other day.”

  “It was really no trouble. I’m just glad I was there.” Faye adjusted the silvery scarf laced around her neck and looked across the table. “And it’s nice to see Grace again after all these years.”

  Grace returned her smile. There was a breeziness to Faye that was refreshing.

  “That’s a lovely dress,” Grace said, gesturing at the blue maxi dress Faye wore. She thought back to her appearance in the supermarket, the shirt hanging open over a white t-shirt and jeans. If Grace attempted that she’d have looked like she’d thrown her old clothes on to do the gardening. Yet Faye had carried it off. Just like today. She imagined Faye was one of those women who could wear almost anything, slip a necklace or a scarf around her neck and look wonderful.

  Faye leant forward as if she was sharing a secret. “It’s from Oxfam,” she whispered. “But don’t tell anyone.”

  “Really? I’d never have guessed.”

  “It really suits you,” Chloe added.

  “Thanks. I do most of my shopping in charity shops. There are some great bargains out there.”

  A loud snap interrupted their conversation, turning their attention back to Meggy who held up the red crayon. “It broke!”

  “Oh dear,” Faye said. “Why don’t you use another colour?” She shook the box, emptying a strew of other crayons across the table.

  The toddler choked out a sob and buried her head in her grandmother’s chest.

  “I’m sorry, Faye,” Chloe said, looking up at the station clock on the wall. “She’s overtired. It’s past her nap time.” She stood, closing the book. Faye helped her gather the crayons into their box and place them in the tray beneath the pushchair seat nearby.