Come A Little Closer Read online

  Before I get the chance to answer, the doctor speaks for me. ‘A sweet sherry?’ he asks, a decanter already in his hand.

  ‘Thank you,’ I answer, my voice so quiet it’s almost inaudible. ‘That would be lovely.’

  It seems like the only possible response.

  But what I really want to say is, ‘My name is not Judith.’

  22

  ‘Becky, you’re with me,’ Tom called across the incident room. He knew she was as frustrated at the lack of progress with the Pennington Flash case as he was. Maybe it would do her good to get out for a while, and he needed some inspiration.

  They were still no closer to identifying the woman the team had nicknamed Penny. The missing-persons’ database had revealed nothing of note, and although they had tried to match her DNA to any samples held on file, they had drawn a blank.

  A search of similar cases had revealed that a woman’s body had been found on a golf course some months ago. Just like Penny, she appeared to have died as a result of hypoxia with no explanation for how that had happened. Without knowing Penny’s identity, though, it was impossible to look for connections between the two women that might give them the answers they were so desperate for.

  Although Becky had finally managed to persuade Sharon Carter to come in and take a look at the CCTV footage to see if she recognised the car she had seen, sadly she had been unable to narrow the search down by much. It didn’t help that the roads had been gritted on the night Sharon went to the Flash, and black muddy water was splattered over so many number plates that most of them were illegible. In addition, it was a busy stretch of road even in the early hours of the morning, and they didn’t know which direction the car had come from.

  Becky pushed herself to her feet. ‘Where are we off to?’

  ‘I want to go back to Pennington Flash. We focused on the location of the body last time. I know the local officers are very familiar with the area, but I’m not getting any sense of why the girl went, or was taken, there to die. I’ve no idea if it will help, but maybe I’ll be hit by some sort of revelation. Come on. We’ll take my car.’

  Becky’s driving had become considerably calmer since she had nearly drowned all those months ago, but Tom still found it erratic, slightly disconcerting and not conducive to logical thinking. And that was what they needed – cold, hard analysis mixed with some brainstorming that might initially seem wide of the mark but would stop them becoming too entrenched in any one explanation.

  Tom asked himself what they knew, and it wasn’t much. Sharon Carter had seen two people, one of whom was almost certainly Penny, heading towards the hide. The other person – presumed male – very probably either assisted Penny’s suicide or murdered her. It seemed she had gone with him willingly, but had she known she was going to die? Was she complicit? Maybe some form of depression would account for the cocktail of drugs she had been taking. But the suggestion that it was an assisted suicide seemed to have dampened the enthusiasm of the team a little. The energy generated by a straightforward case of murder just wasn’t there. Tom needed some ideas to rejuvenate the investigation, and there was no one better than Becky to help him voice his occasionally wild theories. Right now, though, he didn’t have any theories – wild or otherwise.

  The road to the Flash had been blocked by snow for days before the woman was found, but Tom was fairly certain that some die-hard twitchers would have made their way through to check out the birds. Somehow they needed to reach these people and find out what they had seen. Either the dead woman or the person who helped her had to have known that this hide wasn’t locked, and perhaps they had paid the location a visit in the days immediately before she died.

  ‘Sharon said the driver had a good look around the car park and then drove down the footpath, but only for a short distance, is that right?’ Tom asked.

  Becky nodded. ‘I brought her out here to show me exactly where the car was parked, where they went. She finally admitted that she had arranged to meet someone here, but we haven’t managed to trace him. She didn’t know his name, and she’s adamant he didn’t turn up. We can’t rule him out, though, so we’re still looking.’

  ‘She should have come forward the minute she heard what happened,’ Tom said.

  He felt a flash of irritation. Did she not appreciate that someone had died? But the fear of destroying her future husband’s trust in her before their wedding day must have been immense. Trust was such a huge issue in any relationship, and Tom couldn’t help thinking about Louisa. At what point could he risk telling her all that he had been keeping from her? Something he had read years ago sprang into his mind: Trust takes years to build, seconds to break, and forever to repair.

  If Louisa found out he had been hiding the truth, she might never trust him again.

  As he drove into the car park he could feel Becky’s eyes on him. ‘What’s up?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing.’ He pulled the car to a stop. ‘Come on, let’s go for a walk.’

  They followed the route Sharon said the car had taken along the footpath, then walked down the path to the hide. It was no longer a crime scene, and without the bustle of an active investigation it had a very different feel to it. The gloomy weather would keep all but the most enthusiastic of twitchers away from the place, and inside the hide it felt more dank and chilly than ever. There was no sound other than the rasping call of a mallard, and Tom gazed out of the viewing window at the water beyond. Brooding grey clouds reflected off the water, and the skeletal branches of leafless trees did nothing to cheer him.

  He turned and looked towards the place where the dead woman had been sitting. There was no sign she had ever been there now, but the image was fixed in his mind. Had he missed anything? He closed his eyes for a moment, but nothing filtered through.

  Why here?

  Penny wasn’t the first person to die at the Flash. Tom hadn’t remembered the incidents, but the team’s research had uncovered two previous deaths – one a prostitute who was dismembered, her body parts placed into bags and thrown into the water over twenty-five years ago, the other a young man who had committed suicide more recently. They had looked into both to try to find a link, but had failed, not helped by the fact that they still didn’t know the identity of their victim.

  He sensed that Becky was feeling the bleakness of the place too and felt devoid of inspiration. He was about to suggest they head out of the hide when he heard the sound of approaching footsteps on the wooden walkway leading to the entrance. Two men who, judging by their identical mops of ginger hair, were father and son, walked in and stopped. They gave Tom and Becky a puzzled glance. Clearly they weren’t used to seeing men in business suits and women who were nearly eight months pregnant in the hide.

  Tom fished in his pocket for his warrant card.

  ‘Good afternoon. I’m Detective Chief Inspector Tom Douglas, and this is Detective Inspector Becky Robinson. We’re investigating a recent incident here at the Flash.’ He pulled a picture of Penny, drawn by a police artist, from his jacket. ‘Have either of you seen this woman around here?’

  ‘Sorry, mate,’ the younger one said, earning himself a slightly startled look from his father, who clearly didn’t think it appropriate to call a police officer ‘mate’. ‘We’ve seen her picture all over the park here, but nobody we’ve spoken to has ever clapped eyes on her.’

  ‘Shame when someone so young has to die,’ the older man said. ‘And worse when it happens in such a beautiful place, somehow.’

  ‘Do you come here regularly to watch the birds?’ Tom asked.

  ‘When we can, but we missed the worst of the weather, thank God. We were in Australia visiting my daughter, so we’ve only just found out about that poor lass. I was here when the last one tried it, though. I got a bit caught up in it myself, that time.’

  Tom knew he was unlikely to mean the prostitute, given how long ago that was. ‘You mean the man who committed suicide here?’

  ‘No, I don’t know anything about a ma
n. I mean the girl – the one who tried and failed.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Tom said. ‘I don’t think I know about that.’

  ‘No, well like as not you wouldn’t, because I don’t think it was ever reported. Me and a mate pulled her out of the water. I think she thought she could drown herself, but however bad she was feeling, the instinct to save herself kicked in.’

  ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘We called her parents and they came to get her.’

  Tom’s mind immediately flashed to Penny. Could this be the same person? Maybe she had tried here before. Perhaps the place was significant to her, so she had come back to try again – this time with more success.

  ‘Not that saving the poor lass did a lot of good,’ the man said. ‘We heard two weeks later that she’d taken herself off somewhere else and done the job properly. Me and my mate went to the funeral – to pay our respects, you know. Dreadful affair. The family were in pieces. Her sister was a complete wreck and had to be carried out of the service by her dad.’

  Tom and Becky made their way slowly back to the car. The man had given them all the information he could remember about the attempted suicide, and Becky had taken his contact details. He said he had written the girl’s name down – it was somewhere at home – and he promised to find it and give Becky a call. Tom wasn’t hopeful it would be of any use, but he couldn’t afford to ignore any possible leads.

  They got into the car, but instead of driving away Tom sat and looked out of the windscreen, not really taking in the view. They were both silent for a few moments.

  ‘You spoke to the management of the park, didn’t you?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Yes, and to the volunteers who help maintain it. They confirmed what we already know. The hide where Penny was found is the only one without a padlock. This wasn’t a random choice, Tom. She, or whoever took her there, had to know that fact in advance, and as far as we can tell it isn’t publicised anywhere.’

  ‘It’s such a popular beauty spot, though, so even if the hide had been checked out in advance I don’t suppose we’ll ever know when, or by whom. Let’s give the locals a call and see what, if anything, they have on the girl who tried to kill herself here. It may not have been reported, but I bet they know about it nevertheless. It would be easier with her name, but I’m not inclined to wait. You phone them; I’ll drive.’

  He was about to switch on the engine when his mobile rang. He could see from the caller ID that it was Keith.

  ‘Yes, Keith. What can I do for you?’ Tom asked.

  ‘There’s a gentleman here who says he’d like a word with you, sir. I told him you were out, but he said he would wait. Says his name’s Nathan Gardner.’

  Tom was silent for a moment. Nathan had been a friend of his brother Jack for many years, at a time when Jack was at his most disruptive. Tom and his parents had blamed Nathan for Jack’s behaviour, but as the years passed Tom had begun to understand Jack better and knew it was no one else’s fault. School had frustrated him, and he had always been in trouble. He was a genius in one field and one field only. Give him a computer and he could make it sing, but ask him to conjugate verbs in French and his resentment at being holed up in a classroom would kick in. He had gone on to make a fortune, but that was before the speedboat accident that changed everything.

  Did Tom want to see Nathan? He wasn’t sure. Even though he couldn’t be blamed for Jack’s poor behaviour, Tom had always thought Nathan was a bit of a tosser.

  ‘Did he say what he wanted to talk to me about?’ Tom asked.

  ‘No, sir. I did ask, but he said it was a private matter.’

  Tom sighed. ‘Okay, we’ll be about forty minutes or so. He can either wait or leave his number and I’ll call him. Thanks, Keith.’

  Tom rang off.

  ‘You didn’t seem too happy about that,’ Becky said. ‘Not somebody you want to see?’

  ‘He was a friend of Jack’s, and every bit as bad – if not worse – than my brother.’

  ‘Ah,’ Becky said, and left it at that. She knew talking about Jack was usually off-limits.

  As Tom pulled out of the car park, he realised there was something he needed to ask Becky and thought carefully about his choice of words.

  ‘I’m not quite sure how to put this, Becky, so forgive me if it sounds offensive, but did you ever tell Mark what happened to Jack?’

  He wished now that he had asked the question when they were parked, so he could have looked at Becky’s face.

  ‘No. He believes what everybody else believes. Why are you asking me?’ There was a slight note of indignation in Becky’s voice, as if Tom were testing her loyalty to him against hers for Mark.

  ‘I know you well enough to understand that you believe in total honesty, that’s all. So I wondered how you squared it.’

  ‘Well that’s an easy one. I’d never withhold anything from Mark that impacted on our relationship – never lie about anything I’ve done – but Jack isn’t my secret, Tom. If Mark ever found out, he would understand perfectly that it wasn’t my story to tell.’

  Tom was quiet for a moment.

  ‘Have you told Louisa?’ Becky asked.

  Tom’s usual response to any questions about his private life was ‘Mind your own business’ but that didn’t seem appropriate right now.

  ‘No. Not yet.’

  ‘Ah,’ Becky said again. ‘And at a guess you worry that if you do tell her and your relationship doesn’t work out, she will have a significant hold over you.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s that kind of person, but let’s face it, Becky – we see so many people who have trusted others and it’s all gone pear-shaped.’

  ‘Does she need to know?’ Becky asked.

  Tom wasn’t sure. By not telling Louisa he had been lying by omission, but if she asked questions he would have to lie outright, and he wasn’t happy with that either.

  ‘Enough,’ Tom said. ‘I shouldn’t have brought it up. Inappropriate to say the least.’

  Becky grunted. ‘Here we go. Barriers firmly back in place. Listen, Tom, on the basis that the only two people you can talk to about Jack are me and Detective Superintendent Philippa Bloody Stanley, I would guess I’m the better bet when it comes to anything to do with relationships, wouldn’t you?’

  Becky was right, of course, but nobody could make this decision for him. Should he tell Louisa?

  23

  I’ve been here for several days now, in this vast house that always seems to be totally silent. I’m even getting used to being called Judith. According to Thea, the doctor gets confused with names because over the years they have taken in a few of what Thea calls her ‘waifs and strays’, and he can’t remember who’s who. The first one was called Judith, and I suspect he doesn’t think I’ll be here for long, so it’s not worth his trouble to try to remember my name.

  I’ve tried to suggest going out to look for a job – in fact, I’ve mentioned it every day – but I don’t get very far with Thea. ‘Why not take it easy for a few more days? You need time to recover from all that’s happened.’

  I can’t believe I’m being so laid-back. I should be out there, finding a way forward. Instead I feel bizarrely content to let everything wash over me. I spend a lot of time alone. I didn’t hear or see the cleaners arrive that first day, but the drone of the vacuum cleaner penetrates the closed door of my rooms from time to time. I am quiet as a mouse for those few hours and usually stay snuggled up in bed with one of the books that are lying around. I feel so sleepy. Thea says it’s a reaction to all that has happened, and I should talk to the doctor about it, but I don’t really want to take up his time.

  I don’t eat with them, but each evening Thea comes up and escorts me back down to the drawing room for a drink. The doctor has decided since that first night that sherry is my drink of choice, so it’s always there, ready and waiting for me. Strangely I’m growing to like it, and I certainly sleep well later. Even though I don’t share their dinner table, Thea usu
ally gives me a portion of whatever she has cooked for them for me to reheat and she’s provided me with everything from homemade bread to her own marmalade. I’m being spoilt, and I should be getting on with my life, I think. No, I don’t just think it, I know it. I somehow have to work up the energy.

  I’m going to mention it tonight when we have drinks, and now I can hear Thea’s feet coming up the stairs to collect me. I know the way, but I think she’s uncomfortable with me wandering around the house. Maybe she thinks I’ll get lost.

  ‘Have you had a good day, dear?’ she asks me.

  What can I answer? I’ve done nothing but read and gaze into space.

  ‘I have, but it’s time I made some effort to get out and find a job, Thea. I have to go and see Ian and work out what I’m going to do about the house. It’s so kind of you to shelter me here, but it’s not a long-term solution. I need to sort myself out.’

  ‘Do you think you’re ready to see Ian?’ she asks, narrowing her eyes. ‘I tell you what. Why don’t you have a little session with the doctor? I think you’ll find he will know what’s best.’

  I want to say that I know what’s best, but it would sound rude and so I find myself agreeing.

  As we walk into the drawing room the doctor gets to his feet, as he always does. ‘I’ve poured you a small sherry, Judith,’ he says, his voice slightly hoarse as if he doesn’t use it much.

  ‘Judith would like to have a chat with you, my dear,’ Thea says. ‘Do you want to go to your study, or shall I leave you both in peace here for half an hour?’

  ‘Oh, here’s fine, I think. Don’t you, Judith?’

  The urge to correct him – and now Thea – has waned over the last few days. What does it matter, really?

  I take a seat opposite him, sitting right on the edge of the chair, my hands clasped on my knees.

  ‘Come a little closer,’ he urges. I move to the space next to him on the sofa, and he turns sideways to smile at me. He doesn’t often smile, and when he does, those black eyebrows rise up at the outer corners and form a deeper V, pointing down towards his nose. ‘Now, sit back and relax. This is just a chat to establish a degree of trust between us. Maybe you could start by telling me a bit about yourself – your family, friends and so on.’