For Better, For Worse Page 23

  She banged her head back, softly at first, then harder and harder, desperately trying to make sense of the jumbled emotions racing through her. They’d been through so much: a police case that had splintered and separated the family; faced the wrath and abuse of their neighbours; Stuart had lost his job, his dignity, his life. And for what? To fuel her son-in-law’s greed. A man she’d welcomed into her family and treated as her own; a man Stuart had taken under his wing and offered a career to. How could he repay them this way? The pill was not only bitter but also barbed, snagging her insides on the way down. Stuart might be innocent, but their family would remain forever broken.

  Another emotion showered her, catching at her breath, bringing fresh tears to her eyes. Shame. She’d stood by her husband, publicly refusing to believe that the man she’d spent her life with could be responsible for such a heinous crime, but there’d always been those niggling doubts lingering in the background. Doubts that caused rifts and bickering between the two of them. She’d been grouchy with him, picked on his habits, making him pay for the situation he’d placed them in. Yet he wasn’t responsible at all. The guilt tugged at her. She’d made him suffer when he needed her most. And, over the past week, she’d listened to the dubious accusations, believed the whispers in her ear to the point when she’d branded him a monster. A sob escaped as she clasped her head in her hands. How could she?

  She opened her mouth and let out a huge wail, the pain doubling her over. And slid down to the floor and wept.

  *

  Nick stood outside the back door to the office, a swirl of smoke rising into the air.

  ‘I didn’t know you were back on the fags,’ Beth said as she approached.

  He ignored her comment, ushered her inside and motioned for her to follow him up the back stairs. ‘Sarah Carpenter died in hospital this morning.’

  Sadness encased Beth. She recalled Sarah Carpenter’s sorry state in the nursing home the evening before; the stark bruising on her neck; the sad glassy look on her face. If she was aware of the attack, or what it meant, she hadn’t been able to communicate it.

  ‘The doctors believe she had a stroke,’ Nick said.

  ‘What about Yates?’

  ‘He escaped after she was found.’

  She could barely believe what she was hearing. After what felt like a prolonged cat and mouse chase, they’d finally got him. And he’d slipped their grasp. How could one of the most dangerous serial killers they’d locked up in years manage to escape?

  ‘What the hell happened?’

  ‘The security officer was loading him into the back of the van this morning to take him to the Magistrates’ Court. He’d removed the handcuffs and put him in the cage when Yates jumped him.’

  ‘Why didn’t he leave the cuffs on?’

  ‘Health and safety. Yates was supposed to be secured in the cage in the van. The officer thought he was.’

  Beth visualised the custody suite car park. Yates would have been detained in a police cell overnight, in readiness for his appearance at court the next morning. It was surrounded by high fencing, secured by tall metal gates. Prisoners didn’t escape, not these days, but on the outside chance that they managed to break away, the fencing and gates meant they were still restricted. ‘But he would only have got into the police yard.’

  ‘A patrol car had just passed through. He slipped out the gap while the electronic gates were closing. They gave chase but lost him.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  ‘Yates has already proved he’s resourceful. He’d take advantage of any opportunity. Response were straight on it, searching the local area. We’ve tried his flat, spoken with his neighbour and gone through every contact we can think of. He’s disappeared. Not surprising, since he’s spent the last year living under the radar.’

  Freeman welcomed them into his office with a sombre face. ‘Ah, Beth. You’ve heard the news about Yates. We need to draw up a safety plan.’

  They’d obviously been discussing the situation before she arrived and the nature of the look he shared with Nick immediately put her on guard.

  ‘What about the other people connected to Whitefield’s?’ she said. ‘The residents, social workers?’

  ‘We’re still going through the list social services sent us, and we’re currently re-contacting those we reached before, asking them to be extra vigilant. With Sarah Carpenter’s passing he’d already wiped out the staff at Whitefield’s in 1996 and he seemed satisfied in interview, proud of what he’d accomplished. I don’t think the others are at risk.’

  ‘What about Gina and Phoebe?’

  ‘An officer’s been despatched to both addresses, although we’ve no reason to see them as targets. No more so than you.’

  Beth shot him a quizzical stare. ‘I don’t see a motive to attack me. I had nothing to do with the children’s home.’

  Freeman scratched the bald patch around his crown. ‘I heard what happened at the collision.’

  Beth shot Nick a fiery stare. So, they had been talking about her behind her back. ‘The offender spat at me. It wouldn’t be the first time that’s happened.’

  ‘I also saw the way he looked at you in the interview room, and I’ve seen the CSI recording of the pictures in his garage.’

  ‘He was following our investigation, set on completing the operation he’d so carefully planned. He’s bound to be angry with anyone that stood in his way or tried to stop him.’

  ‘I understand what you’re saying, Beth,’ Nick chipped in, ‘but we need to be cautious. You were the liaison officer on the case, seen to support most of the victims’ families. It’s possible, in Yates’s warped sense of reality, that he thinks you’re sympathising with the victims by supporting those close to them.’

  ‘That would make the families the next target.’

  ‘We’ve taken steps to support the families,’ Freeman said. ‘But given that your photos were in that garage, I want to protect you too. We’ll give you an emergency button, a direct line to the control room.’

  ‘Nooo…’ She shook her head vehemently. It wasn’t that she hadn’t considered Yates’s next move. A silent terror had crept beneath her skin the moment she’d heard of his escape. But there was nothing concrete to prove he was coming for her and there was certainly no way she was going to be treated like a victim. ‘He broke into my house to put us off the scent and provide a distraction so he could deal with Sarah Carpenter. And you’ve said yourself, with Sarah gone, he’s exhausted all the staff at the home. Maybe he’s finished what he started and will lie low to avoid capture now. But I will not, under any circumstances, agree to an alarm.’ The decibels in her voice rose with every word in that final sentence. Cops faced conflict every day out there on the streets, it was part of the job.

  Freeman raised his hands to placate her. ‘Okay. Okay. But I’m not taking any chances. If you see or hear anything, you alert us immediately. Do you understand? I don’t care what time of day or night it is.’

  Beth cringed. Her heart raced. ‘All this concern isn’t necessary, sir.’

  ‘It’s non-negotiable, Beth.’ There it was, that paternal concern flashing back up in his eyes. ‘Thank goodness Nick is lodging with you at present. At least you won’t be alone in the house. He’ll be joining you on inquiries too, at least in the short term.’

  Beth bit back her anger. They’d gained a result with the Carter/Ingram case, and managed to track down a serial killer. Just when she thought she was starting to convince the DCI she could work independently, he wanted to babysit her again.

  Epilogue

  All Saints’ Church sat tall and proud, its spire reaching into a duck egg blue sky. Eden and Lily clattered about, gathering up the picnic basket and drinks before they tumbled out of the car and climbed up the hill towards the churchyard.

  ‘I don’t know what possesses people to picnic this time of year,’ Nick said.

  Beth shivered and wrestled on her jacket. Despite the clear sky, the temperatu
res hadn’t risen above single figures in days. ‘It’s a tradition,’ Beth said. ‘Lily came up with the idea for Mum’s birthday last year and we promised her if the weather was fine we’d make it an annual event.’ She caught Nick lifting his own jacket out of the boot and raised a hand. ‘You need to wait here.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  Beth groaned inwardly. Three days had passed since Dale Yates had escaped on his way to his court hearing. Three days in which the police had put out appeal after appeal and scoured the countryside and nearby towns. His disappearance made national news, the public were warned to be vigilant, yet there’d been no sign and no verifiable witness sightings of Dale Yates.

  Nick had refused to let her out of his sight since the escape. He’d insisted on accompanying her on inquiries and driving her around, even taking her to the supermarket. She understood his concerns but sticking to her like glue wasn’t the answer either. She needed air. They both needed to breathe. Having him constantly by her side was becoming oppressive, especially since they’d only recently got back together.

  She needed to have a talk with him. But now wasn’t the right time.

  ‘I’m not asking you to go, I’m asking for some space. This isn’t fair on Eden and Lily. You need to give us some time.’ Nick’s face tightened. A muscle flexed in his jawline. ‘Stay here at the car. I’ll only be fifty yards away. And you’re on speed dial.’ She waved her phone in the air. ‘Any sign of trouble and I’ll ring. We’ll only be half an hour or so.’

  He snapped the boot closed and opened the driver’s door. ‘I’ll be right here.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Beth’s climbed the hill to join the others. She gulped a lungful of air and slowed her step, enjoying the precious seconds to herself. She’d lived alone for so long, it was testing to have someone with her 24/7. Her mind wandered to Gina and Phoebe. The relief in Gina’s face when she’d delivered the news of Stuart’s innocence had been quickly tempered by the shock of Jason’s involvement in her husband’s demise. Phoebe had moved back in with Gina while they patched up their relationship. When Beth visited them yesterday they were talking about moving out of Northamptonshire, taking the children down to live by the coast in Cornwall, away from the rumours and reporters.

  Mike Carter had retreated from the limelight. Did he know about Jason’s cocaine habit? Was he protecting him, or was he genuinely trying to look out for his son? His conduct would also be subject to investigation.

  She thought about Dale Yates. After a difficult start in life, he’d lost his only friend, and so young. What really drove Jess Adams to take her own life twenty-one years ago? Was it following a systematic stream of abuse, or was there another reason? The officer who arrested Yates had since died, so they’d never be able to establish the full reasoning behind his decision to ignore the allegations. The police had launched a fresh investigation into possible improprieties at Whitefield’s in the 1990s, and would work with social services, but it was a long time ago and would be difficult to prove now. The best they could hope for was to rely on corroborating statements from witnesses. In the meantime, Yates was still out there.

  Would Dale Yates emerge eventually, take another life? He’d exhausted his list; there were no staff or supporters attached to their life at Whitefield’s left. Apart from Gina. But now that Stuart’s innocence had been proved, it cast fresh doubt as to his involvement in the case in the 1990s. Gina still retained the alarm and was told to remain alert. But if Yates no longer considered her to be protecting a paedophile, he was unlikely to see her as a target. She didn’t fit his criteria.

  Beth pictured Dale Yates climbing out of the Nissan at the collision scene. His face in hers, the grimy smell of his breath, the slime of his spit across her cheek. For a short time, she’d held justice in her hands. Before it slipped through her fingers like sand.

  She reached her mother’s grave and crouched down, wiping off the dust before joining the others on a sun-blistered wooden bench, close by. A pair of crows soared above their heads as they sat and ate their sandwiches. Eden poured her a coffee from a flask. Lily twittered on with memories about her grandmother. Time passed easily. Eden hadn’t mentioned Kyle since the altercation in the road and wasn’t aware Osborne’s team were building a fraud case against him, a case that meant, if convicted, he would receive a hefty prison term and his assets would be seized, pending an investigation into living off illicit earnings. Osborne was updating Beth daily. As soon as he charged Kyle, she’d receive a call. Which would present another difficult conversation with her sister.

  Gina and Phoebe’s embrace the other day nudged her as she sat and watched her family, soaking up the frail autumn sun. Dale Yates’s hollow life was ruled by his drive to avenge those he believed had stolen his chance of happiness. He had no one. The people beside her were her family, for better for worse. Her people. Perhaps, especially with the prospect of Kyle shortly being out of the picture, she needed to spend more time with them and let them know how important they were.

  *

  Dale Yates peered around the edge of the pitted sandstone church wall. The location offered a perfect view of the churchyard where the family sat on the bench, eating their sandwiches. At the other end of the wall, he could see the watchful gaze of the detective’s boyfriend, sitting in the car, waiting for her. A bitter smile edged up his lips. It was only a matter of time before she was alone.

  He watched the young girl collect the wrappers and run to the bin, then skip back. Happy-go-lucky, her blonde pigtails swinging. Jess had started out like that. Innocent. Without a care in the world.

  The girl retook her seat in between the two women and swung her feet underneath the bench. Yates drew a breath. The sight wedged a lump in his chest. He moved back into the shadows and slipped through the side door into the vestry. He could wait, bide his time. He was good at waiting.

  Acknowledgements

  I do hope local readers will forgive me for the liberties I have taken with Northampton town centre. There is no bank of garages close to St Peter’s House, so Wilton Street and Evelyn Street are fictional creations. The other locations are very real though, and Merry Tom Lane and the Brampton Valley Way are beautiful routes for a walk on a balmy summer’s afternoon and highly recommended.

  A novel is never the work of one person and I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have worked with some great people during this book’s journey.

  I’d like to thank Garry Liburd assisting with the role of a Family Liaison Officer. I hope you are enjoying your much-deserved retirement!

  Also, Hannah and Adam Evans, who gave up their precious time to explain to me the workings of social services and provide background on the running of children’s homes. As usual, any errors or inconsistencies within the book are entirely mine.

  Gratitude goes to Edward at Chelton Brown Property and Letting Agents for his assistance and background on the estate agent business.

  To my wonderful early readers, Ian Patrick and Rebecca Bradley, both former detectives and now brilliant crime writers themselves, who keep me in line with police procedure – I appreciate your continuing friendship and support more than you’ll ever know.

  To Rhea Kurien and all the team at Aria Fiction who’ve been lovely and supportive to work with on the Beth Chamberlain series.

  Thanks also to Debi Alper, Helen Baggott and Yvonne Betancourt for their help with the original version of this novel, Presumed Guilty.

  One of the great things about writing books is the online community. The writers who keep me sane – you know who you are! The wonderfully supportive book clubs including Anne Cater and all at Book Connectors; Shell Baker and Llainy Swanson at Crime Book Club; Susan Hunter at Crime Fiction Addict; Tracy Fenton, Helen Boyce, Teresa Nikolic and all at The Book Club (TBC), David Gilchrist at UK Crime Book Club, and Wendy Clarke and all the gang at The Fiction Café Book Club. Also, the amazing reviewers and book bloggers, far too many to mention individually, who work tirelessly to
spread the word about new books. I cannot say this enough, I’m truly honoured to be part of such a lovely world.

  So many friends have listened to early storylines, helped with cover art, proofread, talked through characters and generally offered a shoulder to lean on. Most notably David and Lynne Anderson, Colin Williams, Emma Thompson, Martin Sargeant, Stephanie Daniels and Philip and Abi Bouch.

  Finally, massive thanks to David and Ella. For absolutely everything.

  About the Author

  JANE ISAAC lives with her detective husband and daughter in rural Northamptonshire, UK where she can often be found trudging over the fields with her dogs. Her debut, An Unfamiliar Murder, was nominated in the Best Mystery category in the eFestival of Words Best of the Independent eBook Awards 2013. The follow up, The Truth Will Out, was selected as the ‘Thriller of the Month’ by E-Thriller.com in April 2014.

  Jane is the author of eight novels. Her latest series is based in Northamptonshire and features Family Liaison Officer, DC Beth Chamberlain.

  Jane loves to hear from readers. Contact her via her website at www.janeisaac.co.uk, or join her book club to hear about upcoming titles, take part in competitions, be in with a chance to win giveaways, and receive book recommendations.

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