Behind Shadows: A Psychological Mystery Thriller (The Adam Stanley Series Book 1) (16 page)

"Please sit down. Do you want a cup of tea or coffee?" she asked.

Adam was again reminded how much older than her years she seemed. An old soul, his mum would say.

"Coffee would be nice," Adam said. Kate declined.

Once alone, Kate got up from the floral armchair and began snooping around the room.

"Hey, Adam, come and see this photo of Mrs Pitt. It was taken before she got sick, I'd say. I can't believe how much older she looks now. The daughter hasn't aged much so this picture must be quite recent. She can't be more than forty-something."

Adam stood up to take a look. No way could the old lady they'd just met be in her forties. Thinking about it though, Mary was around ten years old—twelve at the most, so Judy couldn't be as old as she seemed. He picked up the picture frame and walked towards the light of the window.

"It's her all right," he said. In the picture, Judith and Mary were sitting on a stone wall. A man sat between them with his arms around their shoulders. They were all smiling. "I wonder if this is the husband. Mary's the image of him." He put the picture back on the sideboard and sat down again. "You were very quiet in there, Kate."

"Certain situations unnerve me," she said, rubbing her temples, her eyes screwed up.

"Still bad?"

"Huh?"

"Your headache. Is it still bad?"

"Oh, yeah, sorry." Her mobile phone rang, but the ringing stopped as she pulled it out of her jacket pocket.  "No signal, I'll go outside and call the station back."

She almost collided with Mary, who was bringing the coffee in on a tray. "Sorry, love," Kate said before limping outside.

"My colleague has to make a call. She couldn't get a signal in here," Adam explained.

"Yeah—I don't have a mobile but my dad does, and he keeps his in the kitchen to get a signal."

"Is that your dad?" he said pointing to the photograph before picking up his coffee.

"Yeah, we were on holiday in the Lake District last year." She looked at the picture for a couple of seconds. "This is the only one we've got with all three of us together, before Mum … you know, before she got sick."

"It must be hard on you. Who looks after her?"

"Me and Dad. Dad home-schools me so it works out well. She's not always in bed—she sometimes sits in here with us. You just caught her on a bad day."

"Where is your dad now?"

"He had to go into town to collect a prescription and buy food. He's self-employed. He designs computer programs."

Adam raised his eyebrows and nodded. At least that explained how they paid for the properties, Adam thought as he finished his coffee and put the cup back on the tray.

Mary was obviously a shrewd little girl, because she guessed what he was thinking. "Oh no, Dad didn't pay for all of this," she said, shaking her head. "It used to belong to Nana and Gramps before they died. Mum said dad doesn't need to work, but he says computers are his passion, so he does it anyway."

Kate knocked on the window and beckoned to him."

"Looks like I'd best be off, Mary. Thanks for the coffee. Would you ask your dad to call me, please?" He handed her his business card and rushed out to see what was so urgent.

Kate stood by the car. "Come on, we've got to go."

"Why, what's happened?"

"Brian Crosby's dead. Murdered."

"Shit!" he said as got in the behind the wheel. "Though at least we can rule out Amanda this time."

Kate glanced at him, her tight lips forming a straight line across her face.

When they reached the house, forensics were already installed and examining the crime scene. Adam and Kate put on the standard white hooded overalls and bootees before entering.

Brian's body lay face down in the hallway, his head twisted sideways. His eyes were gone, replaced with two gory holes.

Adam felt his gorge rise.

"Not much blood, considering," Kate said to the medical examiner.

"The wounds have been cauterised," he replied. "Something extremely hot did this damage and sealed the wounds on exit."

Adam couldn't stand looking at the body any longer. He walked in to the small house. No signs of a break-in and the only evidence of a struggle was in the lounge. The sofa had tipped backwards, and there was a broken cup in the kitchen rubbish bin. Everything else was very tidy.

"Has anybody spoken to the neighbours?" he asked a plain-clothed detective.

"Yeah—nobody saw a thing. His daughters found him this morning."

"Where are they now?"

"Next door at number twenty-nine."

"Time of death?" he asked, making his way back past the body towards the front door.

"Yesterday sometime. One of the daughters spoke to him at eight o'clock yesterday morning, so sometime after that."

He passed Kate, who was still bent down looking at the body. Adam couldn't stomach it—he still had the smell of Dennis up his nose.

Pamela Foxton was hysterical, and her wailing unbearable. She was curled up next to her sister on the sofa. Alison Jones, on the other hand, was calm—clearly upset, but calm.

"Take a seat, Detective," Alison said, indicating the chair opposite them.

"Thank you. I know this is difficult, but I need to ask you a few questions."

"We've already told the other officers everything." Her arms were wrapped around her body, giving herself a hug. Her hands rubbed her back and shoulders, as though soothing herself.

"I'm sorry, but I need to do this." They went through their statements once again. Pamela made it no easy task, wailing the whole time, but it was clear they knew nothing. Alison had arrived from Manchester late last night and stayed at Pamela's house. They found their dad when they arrived this morning. Alison had looked through the letterbox when he didn't answer the door, and made the gruesome discovery.

Adam needed to dig a little deeper to see what else they knew. "Did your dad tell you he'd been questioned by the police a couple of days ago?"

Pamela's head lifted up and her incessant noise stopped mid-wail while she listened.

"No!" Alison said, "What the hell for? He never said anything." She looked at Pamela for confirmation.

Pamela shook her head.

"He had been confused when he couldn't find your mother, and instead of searching the house he called us. He was convinced a man called Dennis Kidd had abducted her."

Pamela sat up now, gawking at Adam. "You mean that dirty pedo? Why would he abduct Mum? She's not a kid."

"We never got to the bottom of it. No crime had been committed so we had to let him go. But I'm sure this is connected." He let this information sink in for a few moments before continuing. "Did you know him? Dennis? He would have lived close by when you were growing up."

"Not me. I never met him. I met his missus though, she was a teacher at our school," Pamela said. "A wrong 'un if ever I met one."

"What makes you say that?" Adam leaned forward in his chair, not wanting to spoil things now he had the unstable Pamela chatting.

"She was just weird. Dad knew her though. I used to see them together at lunchtime in the staffroom. When they saw me, they would stop talking like they were trying to hide something. Maybe they were having an affair."

"Pamela!" Alison's voice was sharp and disapproving.

"What? I'm only telling the truth."

"How about you, Alison? Did you know them?" Adam asked.

Alison shook her head. "No." She chewed her bottom lip, her brow furrowed.

"Is there something else? You look as though you've just thought of something," he coaxed.

Alison turned to her sister and grabbed for her hand, her eyes searching Pamela's before turning back to face Adam. "Dad was just dad to us. We loved him. He was kind and gentle. But sometimes we would see him looking at our friends a bit funny. I often wondered if he had something to do with those two."

"You mean Dennis and his wife?" Adam said.

"Yeah. Mum used to tease him about it when they first got banged up. We would laugh with her, but deep down I had my suspicions."

"That's not fair, Ali—he's dead. What if it's not true? If this gets out, dad's good name is ruined," Pamela said.

"If they need the truth to catch whoever did this we have to be honest. And anyway, let's face it, we know it's true. You wouldn't even bring little Amy to see him. Mum never understood why but I knew."

Sitting quietly and taking all of this in, Adam was very thoughtful. So, Brian had something to hide after all. But since both Dennis and Annie were already dead, none of this information would be of any use to Adam and Kate unless they could find another lead.

Chapter 24

Michael

"Where's Mummy?" Emma demanded.

"She's had to go away for a few days, pumpkin. She'll be back soon, I promise."

This had been going on all morning and it was his own fault. He should have left them at Toni's last night instead of bringing them home.

As soon as Emma opened her eyes in her own bed this morning she called for her mummy, and when Amanda didn't appear she ran around the house searching.

"Where to?"

"She's working. You know you stay with me when Mummy's working."

"Pwease phone her," she begged. She looked so pathetic with her enormous eyes full of unshed tears.

He wondered how Amanda was this morning and thought of ringing the hospital to check, but he didn't want Emma any more upset. So he decided to call after he'd put the children down for their afternoon nap.

He checked his mobile for messages. Nothing. He thought he might have heard from Toni by now, but she was obviously still sulking.

He was a little sad about the way it had turned out. The sex with her had been incredible. Still, if she couldn't accept his children then it would never work out. He may have his faults, but his children were top of his list, full stop.

She'd been asleep when he arrived back last night. He got the kids’ stuff together, then woke her to say goodbye before carrying the sleeping children to the car.

He'd left her sitting in the hallway sobbing, snot running down her face.

Not the prettiest sight.

***

There were no spaces in the hospital car-park. Michael had to park on the main road and walk back. He cursed himself for not bringing the pushchair. Jacob insisted on being carried and felt like a ton weight.

Emma walked nicely, excited to be going to visit her mummy. He'd called the hospital when the children were having their nap and spoke to her doctor. The doctor confirmed Amanda hadn't shown any signs of coming round, but thought it a good idea for the children to visit—that maybe they could get through to her.

Michael had refused at first and hung up the phone.

Then he'd got a call from Detective Stanley, telling Michael there'd been another murder and that he thought Amanda was in the clear.

He'd also suggested Michael take the children to see her, and once again Michael had refused. But when Emma woke up screaming again for her mummy he changed his mind. He hated seeing his daughter so upset.

He told them Amanda had been poorly and was asleep in the hospital. That she might not wake up for them, but they would be able to see her and give her a kiss. This cheered Emma up. Jacob, as usual, was oblivious to everything.

It startled Michael to see a policeman outside Amanda's room.

"Good afternoon." The officer nodded to them as they approached.

"Hi, we've come to visit my wife, Amanda. Is that okay?

"Certainly."

Emma was standing behind Michael, holding onto his legs and peeping out at the police officer. Normally a chatterbox, she didn't make a sound.

The officer stood up and opened the door for Michael. "Hey, Stu—fancy a cuppa?" he said to another policeman inside the room. Stu was sitting on a plastic chair reading a Woman's Day magazine, one foot resting on the metal at the end of the bed.

Stu jumped up immediately, as though he'd been caught sleeping on the job. "Oh, sorry—gets a bit boring sitting here for hours on end," he said, tucking the magazine under his arm.

"No, not at all." With Jacob still in his arms, Michael shuffled into the room, the tight hold Emma still had on his legs making it hard for him to walk.

Once the policemen left and the door closed behind them Emma ventured out. "Why was there powicemen?"

"They are looking after your mummy," Michael said as he glanced over to where Amanda lay.

"But that's what nurses do."

"And sometimes policemen, baby. Come on, let's see if she'll wake up." He placed Jacob on the bed next to Amanda, then moved the chair the policeman had vacated to the top of the bed and lifted Emma up to stand on it.

Jacob was getting excited and couldn't understand why Amanda wouldn't wake up.

"Shush, Jakey, Mummy's poorwy—isn't she, Daddy?" Emma whispered.

"She sure is, baby. We need to be very quiet," he whispered back. "Maybe if you tell Mummy what you've been doing she'll wake up."

Emma, leaning on the bed, now turned and sat down beside Amanda. "We've been to Toni's house, but she shouted at me and I cwied. I missed you, Mummy. I'm sorry I didn't let you bwush my hair."

"What made you say that, Em?" Michael asked.

"Cos I made Mummy sad and then she wented away."

"Oh, Emma, Mummy didn't go away for any reason other than she was sick. Once she's better she'll brush your hair again."

Michael hadn't noticed that Amanda had opened her eyes. The first he knew was when she lifted her hand and placed it on Jacob's arm.

"Mummy, you're waked!" Emma squealed.

Amanda still seemed a million miles away. After blinking several times she tried to sit up, which proved impossible with both children now almost on top of her.

"Hey, come on, guys. Let her get her breath for a minute." Michael lifted them both off the bed. Jacob was not impressed with this and proceeded to throw a tantrum on the floor. Michael ignored him and went to tell someone that Amanda had woken up.

Two nurses followed him back into the room and set about making Amanda more comfortable.

"I'll take the children out for a few minutes," he said to the short nurse he'd spoken to at the desk.

"We won't be long and then you can have your Mummy to yourselves again," she said to the children in a musical Irish accent.

Emma wasn't pleased to be made to leave. Michael coaxed, "Come on, I'll get you a can of Coke and a chocolate bar." This did the trick. They'd passed a couple of vending machines on the way in and he had a pocket full of change.

Michael got one can of drink and two chocolate bars. Then he found an empty lounge room, with faux leather chairs and an old-fashioned square TV in the corner.

Afterwards, they walked back to Amanda's room. She was sitting upright and looked more awake than she had. Michael lifted the children back onto the bed.

"What happened?" Her voice was feeble and croaky.

"Don't you remember?" He didn't want to do this in front of the children.

"No, nothing."

"I'm sure it will all come back to you. The police are waiting to talk to you so we'd best be off."

"The police? No, wait—please, Michael, don't take my babies yet." She held them both to her chest, close to tears.

"I'll bring them again tomorrow, I promise. Get some rest. I've brought your mobile and a change of clothes. They’re in a bag in your locker."

"Thanks."

"Say bye-bye to mummy, Jacob." He unwrapped Amanda's arms from his son and picked him up off the bed, bending him towards her for a kiss.

"Baabaa." Jacob was smiling and waving.

Emma hugged Amanda and buried her head into her neck.

"Come on, Em, don't be silly. Mummy needs her rest."

"No! I want my mummy."

"Remember what we said? We mustn't upset her. Do you want to come again tomorrow?"

"Yes," she whispered.

"Do as your daddy says, baby," Amanda said, nuzzling her hair. "I'll be home soon."

Emma sat up and kissed Amanda. "Pwomise?"

"I promise."

"Michael, thanks for bringing them," Amanda said, her voice already fading with the effort of talking.