Behind Shadows: A Psychological Mystery Thriller (The Adam Stanley Series Book 1) (17 page)

Chapter 25

Adam

It had been another chaotic day. Adam knew he wouldn't be in his bed this side of midnight—he still needed to get through a huge stack of paperwork before he could even think of knocking off.

The hospital had called to tell him Amanda was awake although she couldn't remember anything. He intended on visiting her before it got too late.

Nothing more had come to light with Brian Crosby's murder. His body was now with the medical examiner and they would do an autopsy in the morning, which Adam intended to be present for.

The only other thing was they'd found a pair of child's panties in Brian's cardigan pocket.

Adam wondered if someone had planted them or if Brian had acquired them himself. Either way it showed that his daughters might be correct. Perhaps Brian did have a sick interest in children too.

He'd left a team going through Brian's house and he was praying something would turn up. They were at a complete stop at the moment.

He poured himself a tar-like coffee from the percolator in the office and he drank it in two gulps. Realising he was starving, he hadn't had anything to eat or drink since breakfast. He glanced at his watch and was startled by the time, seven o'clock.

Grabbing his keys from the desk, he decided to head to the hospital before they locked the doors—he'd pick up a couple of burgers from the drive-through on the way.

Adam spoke to the officers when he arrived at Amanda's room. He made the decision to relieve one of them, keeping one officer to watch over Amanda as there was still a killer on the loose.

Amanda was sound asleep and looked just the same as yesterday, apart from her eyes now being closed. He sat on the plastic seat, looking through the glass door as the officers wandered off down the corridor.

"Amanda?" he said, barely more than a whisper.

Her eyes flickered but stayed closed.

"Amanda, it's me, Adam Stanley."

Once again, nothing. He stood up and walked to the window. He could see for miles, they were so high up.

"Adam."

He thought he'd imagined it at first. He went back to her side.

"Hey, there you are," he said. "I thought you were pretending to be asleep so you didn't have to talk to me."

"No." She smiled. "Can't keep my eyes open … so tired.”

She seemed so vulnerable that Adam was shocked and reached out his hand and almost grasped hers, pulling it back before she noticed.

"The doctor said that's to be expected—you've had a terrible shock," he said. In fact, the doctor had told him on no account should he interview her at all.

"I can't remember. What happened? I know the kids are all right—they were just here." She screwed up her eyes as though trying her hardest to remember something just out of reach.

"Take it easy for a couple of days and then we'll talk."

"No. I can't stand it. Please tell me," she whispered.

"Seriously, leave it for now. I'm under strict instructions not to distress you in any way," he said.

"This is distressing me. I need to know, Adam. Please?"

"Okay, tell me, what's the last thing you remember?"

"Making the bed at home." She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples.

"You don't remember getting a call from the plumber?"

She opened her eyes slowly. She was squinting. "Kind of. I mean, I do—but it's like a dream."

"Well, let's try to remember a bit more of the dream," he coaxed.

"I had to go over there in a taxi." She was looking straight ahead at the stark white wall as if seeing her
dream
playing out.

"Mmm-hmm. Anything else?"

"Yeah, he wouldn't do the job. I was angry with him."

"What did you do?"

"I can't remember," she cried.

The stocky Irish nurse came in, giving Adam a disapproving look. "That'll be all for tonight. Come on—out! This girl needs her rest," she said, bustling around Amanda and shooing him towards the door.

"Get a good night's sleep, Amanda. I'll come back tomorrow—maybe you'll remember a bit more by then."

"But-"

"Come on now, lovey," the nurse interrupted, her hands on her ample hips. "That's enough for one day." She shot Adam a ferocious glare.

"Goodnight, Amanda," he said as he backed out of the room.

"Goodnight." Her eyes were already closed before he reached the door. It was a funny thing, the brain. He understood that it would shut down to protect itself, but he couldn't work out why she would be so tired considering she'd been asleep for almost twenty-four hours.

He didn't look forward to telling her about her father. What if it caused another trauma? Hopefully, she would remember on her own

Chapter 26

Michael

Emma had been a nightmare since leaving the hospital. Michael tried to appease her by taking them to the jungle gym and then for a pizza, which worked for a short while, but it didn't take long before she was sulking again.

It was dark by the time they got home, way past the children's bedtime. Jacob had fallen asleep in the car. Michael carried him inside, still fast asleep.

As he opened the front door, something didn't feel right, but he couldn't put his finger on what. He took the children into the lounge and plonked Jacob in the middle of the sofa, telling Emma to keep an eye on him. He left them there, closing the door behind him.

A strong breeze was coming down the hallway. He looked around him for something to use as a weapon, but the only thing in the hallway was Amanda's flowery pink umbrella. He hefted it above his head and made his way to the kitchen.

The back door swung wide open. Michael knew the door had been locked because Amanda had the only key since he'd lost his key ring months ago. That very morning he'd had to walk around the house to hang the washing on the line.

Nothing else seemed out of place. He checked the lock and it all seemed okay—no damage as far as he could tell. He heard a sound coming from upstairs, a bump-bump-bump.

Picking up the phone, he dialled Adam's mobile number getting his voicemail. "It's Michael. There's somebody in the house," he said in a hoarse whisper. "Come quick."

He crept up the stairs, taking his time and keeping his back to the wall. Bump-bump-bump-bump-bump. What the hell could it be? The brolly was still raised—not that it would do much damage. He kicked himself for not getting a knife from the kitchen.

Jacob cried and Emma knocked on the lounge door, calling for him. Thank heavens the door handle was too high for her to reach.

At the top of the stairs, he was surprised how draughty it was. The sound came from the bathroom. He braced himself at the bathroom door, his heart pounding so hard he could hear it. He held on to the doorknob for several seconds before bursting in, the umbrella held above his head.

The window swung wide open and the lace curtain blew into the middle of the room. He attacked it with the umbrella before realising what it was. The sound was the window lever hanging loose and banging against the frame.

"What the hell!" Putting down the umbrella, he reached over the bath to lock the window.

Both bedroom windows at the back of the house were also open, though everything to the front was shut tight. He searched the house thoroughly before going back to see to the kids.

Jacob by this time was hysterical. His face was blood red and snot mixed with tears poured down his face.

Emma, crying too, didn't say a word. She just picked up her backpack and stomped up the stairs to her room.

"Your sister is as feisty as mummy," he said to Jacob. "I feel sorry for her husband when she grows up."

Chapter 27

Adam

Back at the car, Adam noticed his phone flashing on the dashboard—a voicemail message. With no signal, he couldn't retrieve it until he was almost at the station. After listening to Michael's hushed message, he did a speedy U-turn without even checking the road was clear—luckily it was.

Through the lounge window, he could see Michael sitting on the sofa as he approached the front door, maybe a false alarm. He tapped on the window.

"Oh, thank God you're here!" Michael stood back to let Adam through the door.

"I just got your message. What happened?"

"Someone's been in the house today. We stayed out until late and when I got home the back door and all the upstairs windows at the back of the house were wide open."

"Sorry to ask, but is there any chance you could have left them open?" Adam said as he walked into the lounge.

"No, I didn't leave them open. Besides, I don't have a key for the back door—Amanda's got the only one." He glared at Adam.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Did you check if the lock had been damaged?"

"Yeah, and it's fine."

"I told you about the guy I saw hanging around here the other night, didn't I?" Adam said.

"Yeah, you told me. What did he look like?"

"I didn't get a good look at him. He was in the shadows—the headlights from my car lit him up briefly. He wore dark clothes with a hood." Adam sat down on the chair opposite Michael and put his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. "There has got to be something we're missing here. Was anything tampered with in the house?"

"Not that I can tell, just the windows and the door. It's as though somebody's playing games with me."

"If this is connected with the murders—and I guess we have to treat it as such—then we're dealing with a very dangerous and unhinged person. Make sure you double-lock all your doors, and ring me if you’re at all concerned about anything. If you can't get me for any reason, call nine-nine-nine."

"Do you think they'll come back?" Michael said, alarmed.

"Hard to say. Whoever it is wants you to know he's been here. I've made sure Amanda is safe and I'll get a car parked out on the street tonight in case he does decide to come back."

"Thank you," Michael said.

Adam's phone was flashing again by the time he reached the car. Voicemail told him he had another new message.

"Ah, erm, hello. This is a message for Detective Inspector Stanley. I believe you came to my house this morning to speak to my wife and daughter. My name's DJ—DJ Pitt."

Adam returned the call.

Mr Pitt sounded younger than Adam had expected, probably because of the old-fashioned, cottagey feel of his house, but his daughter had explained that already.

"Good evening, Mr Pitt. Thank you for calling."

"That's okay, although I'm not sure how I can help you."

"Did your wife tell you what's happened at your Kingsley house?"

"Yes, and quite frankly, I'm appalled."

"Indeed, sir. Do you know who else might have had the key code to get in?"

"No, I don't even know it myself to be honest with you. Though I do know, Judith keeps it in her diary."

"Does anybody have access to her diary that you know of?"

"No—nobody comes here. We care for Judy ourselves, although for how much longer I'm not sure. As you saw this morning, she's quite sick."

"What is wrong with her? If you don't mind me asking."

"She has Acute Multiple Sclerosis. She's lost the sight in one of her eyes and has paralysis in various parts of her body. She still has good days, but they are becoming few and far between. We'll be getting some extra care brought in very soon."

"That's awful. I am sorry," Adam felt the griping twinge of grief in the centre of his body. He knew what it was like to lose a wife. Thankfully, his wife hadn't suffered.

"Thank you. If that's all, Detective, I should go."

"Of course, Mr Pitt. I'll keep you informed. The house is still a crime scene at the moment, so if you need to go there for any reason …"

"We won't. Goodnight, detective." He hung up the phone.

Before driving away, Adam arranged for a squad car to spend the night outside the Flynn house.

Chapter 28

Amanda

I woke up in a strange room and it took several minutes for me to remember I was in the hospital.

Sweat dripped from me. The sheets were stuck to my sopping wet body.

Lying there half-asleep, listening to the sounds of the hospital going on around me. I closed my eyes and began to nod off again as a graphic image came to me. I screamed.

Within minutes, my room was filled with strangers and then Adam Stanley seemed to appear from nowhere.

"Hey, Amanda, it's okay—settle down."

His voice was so hypnotic and calmed me down instantly. All the while he held my hand, his chocolate eyes gazing into mine.

The doctor and nurse fussed around for a while, but before long there was just the two of us.

"I—I killed him. I killed my dad."

"No," Adam said.

"I
did
!" I sobbed. "I know what happened. He was waiting for me, hiding in the basement cupboard, and I killed him."

"No, Amanda. I know you think you did, but he was already dead, had been for a while. Maybe he fell out of the cupboard when you opened it, but I promise you—he was already dead."

"You mean I didn't do it?"

"No, I don't think so."

"But how did he get in there? Who else could have done it?"

"That's what we need to find out. Had you given anybody the key code? Any subcontractors? Anyone at all?"

"No." I buried my head back into the pillow. This was a nightmare.

"Do you know Brian Crosby?"

"Why?" I sat back up.

"He's been murdered too, and there are some links to your father."

"Yeah, I knew him, he worked at the school with Annie."

"Was he part of your dad's sick gang?"

"Yeah, but he never touched us, not really. He just looked."

"Who else knew? Apart from the adults involved in the abuse, who else knew about him?"

"Nobody, just me and Andrew."

"Amanda, look at me."

I turned to face him, looking into his eyes.

"I've just heard Brian was murdered on Monday morning—sometime between eight and nine. Where were you?"

"I don't know. I can't remember. I don't even know what day it is."

"It's Wednesday. Monday was the day you found Dennis."

"I left the house around nine. I got a taxi."

"So you have no alibi before nine am?"

"No. Do I need one?"

"Kate will want to talk to you."

Adam Stanley continued questioning me until I felt dizzy.

"Just a couple more things, Amanda, and we can call it a day. I know you’re tired," he said, rubbing his eyes, not for the first time. "Where are your house keys?"

"My house keys?"

"Yeah."

"Should be in my bag." I swung my legs off the bed and bent to peer in the drawer of the cabinet. I pulled out a bunch of keys. "Here they are."

"Is the back door key on there?"

"Yes—this one,” I said, holding up the large bronze key. “Why?"

"Michael said there's only the one key."

"Yeah, he lost his ages ago. What's this about?"

"Somebody was in your house yesterday and they opened that door. Have you any idea who could be responsible?"

"No, I’ve no idea. Did they steal anything?"

"That's the strange part—nothing seems to have been touched apart from a couple of windows being opened."

I couldn't understand it. Who would want to go into our house and open some windows? "I need to get out of here."

"It's not up to me, but I don't think it's a good idea."

"I don't care—I need to get out of here
now
!" I got off the bed again. My legs felt weak; they almost buckled underneath me. "Please help me—I need to be with my children."

Adam caught me and swivelled me around on the spot, sitting me down on the chair. "Wait there," he said.

He left the room, returning a moment later with a doctor.

"What seems to be the problem here?" The doctor didn't have a very soft speaking voice considering he was in a hospital. He was grating to say the least.

"I want to go home." I stood up and jutted out my chin in defiance.

"I recommend you don’t go anywhere for another day or two at least."

I shook my head. "I've got to go."

"Mrs Flynn, I think you should reconsider, but it's your choice."

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I'm going home."

The doctor left the room, shaking his head.

I gradually became a little steadier on my feet and walked around the bed. In the bottom of the cabinet was a brown paper bag filled with the clothes Michael had brought in yesterday. I took it into the adjoining bathroom.

After a quick wash, I changed out of the hospital gown and brushed my hair. I felt much better. I was surprised to see Adam still in the same place, looking out of the window with his back to the room. "Any chance of a lift home?" I asked.

He turned around, his face unreadable.

"I can't lie here with a killer on the loose. They might hurt my children," I explained.

"If they'd intended to do that I'm sure we'd know by now. You, on the other hand, might not be so fortunate. At least while you’re here you can be watched over."

"I don't care. I've got to go."

"Come on, then, let's get your stuff together."

"I've got no stuff." The police had taken my tracksuit as evidence and ever since then I'd been wearing a hospital gown. I had my handbag, that's all, and Adam tucked it under one arm, and me under the other, then slowly walked me out to the car.

"There's one more thing we need to discuss, Amanda." Adam's eyes didn't leave the road and I could tell he felt uncomfortable.

"What is it?" I asked.

"They've released your father's body. They need to know who to contact regarding the funeral."

"What?" I was horrified. "I can't arrange that!"

"I understand. Are there any other relatives? Any brothers or sisters?"

I shook my head. "No, there's only me, but I won't have anything to do with it. He can rot in hell as far as I'm concerned."

"Fair enough. I had to ask," Adam said,

"So what will happen?"

He shrugged. "Not sure. The funeral director will sort it, I guess. Anyway, don't concern yourself. I'll pass on your wishes."

As Adam parked the car, the front door opened with a bang, and Michael ran towards us.

Adam wound his window down.

"I was about to call you—he left a message." Michael's words left him in a rush.

"Who did?"

"Whoever broke in yesterday. They left a message on my computer. I just found it."

I got out of the car, and Michael seemed surprised. He obviously hadn't noticed me sitting there.

"Amanda, what are you—?"

I didn't hang around to make small talk. I raced to the house and found the children in the kitchen playing. They were both on top of me, squealing with joy, by the time Michael and Adam caught up.

Michael looked pale with purple circles under his eyes.

"Are you all right?" I asked him.

"Not really. Maybe we shouldn't talk about it in here?" He nodded at the children.

"No, course not. Hey, babies, Mummy needs to go talk with Daddy and the nice policeman. You play here for a few minutes."

I found Adam and Michael upstairs in the office, both staring at the computer screen. I couldn't make out what they were looking at until I got further into the room.

In bold, large red font, flashing in the centre of the screen, was: 

You're next — CHEAT!

"What the …?" Tiny lights began shooting in my peripheral vision. My legs threatened to give way. I groped for something—anything, to steady myself.