Stranger Child (27 page)

‘I can’t see how it’s relevant but, according to Tasha, Caroline shouted a man’s name before she crashed the car. David and I have talked about it, and as far as he’s aware, Caroline only knew one man with this name. I don’t understand it, and neither does David, but the name she shouted was Jack.’

Tom felt his body jolt. Jack had been so much in his mind recently with the SD card, the Swiss bank, the list of names and dates, not to mention what David had just told him. But somehow that had felt like an intellectual exercise. The fact that Caroline Joseph had called the name Jack as her car went into a spin punched a shot of adrenaline into Tom’s system. It
could be some other Jack – but what were the chances of Caroline knowing another Jack, one that her husband had never heard of?

He barely listened to Emma as she explained how Caroline had known his brother, but he remembered that David Joseph’s name had come up when Leo was talking about Jack’s clients.

‘What are you thinking?’ Emma asked.

He had to focus back on Natasha and Ollie.

‘I’m trying to think how accurate a six-year-old’s memory is likely to be. I can’t remember much from when I was six – can you?’

‘No, but with all due respect that’s more than thirty years ago. When you’re thirteen, six isn’t so long ago. And it was a traumatic night for her.’

‘I think her memory seems pretty accurate when she says the men looked as if they were walking on their heads. We know the car was upside down – that’s how it was when the emergency services got there.’

‘When Tasha was telling us the story, she said something else. She said she remembered Caroline saying, “What’s going on?” to whoever was on the phone. She may have got it wrong, of course, but if Caroline sounded scared Natasha might well have remembered accurately.’

A picture had started to form in Tom’s mind when Natasha had first told him about the men, and this made the picture so much worse. He didn’t like the shape of it at all.

*

Tom had settled Emma in the sitting room with her drink so he could make some calls. He wanted to talk to her and to milk from her every drop of information that Natasha had shared, but for now Emma said she was happy with notepad and pencil. She would try to relive each moment and write it all down.

A call from the incident room had revealed that Rory Slater had been allowed home, there being no proof whatsoever that he had anything to do with the drugs being carried by one of his lads. The police had searched the Slaters’ home and found nothing – not that they expected to. Anything of interest would have been whisked away the moment Rory and Rick had failed to arrive home from the train station. But it had given them a chance to bug the house, and Tom was praying that something would come up – something to give them a clue where Ollie was.

Becky had also asked DC Nic Havers to go back to Silvia Briggs’s house and get a DNA sample from her. They could rush it through, but it would still be twenty-four hours before they had the result, when they would know for sure if the body in the wood belonged to Isabella aka Izzy Briggs. Twenty-four hours - if they were lucky. If it turned out to be positive, the Slaters would have to be questioned because Izzy had been living with them, and if they hadn’t found Ollie by then it would all get so much more complicated.

This case was so complex and problematic that Tom wished he had Jack here to draw him a flowchart. His brother was never far from his thoughts at the moment.

When he returned to the sitting room, Emma was leaning back on the sofa, eyes closed, clutching some paper in her hand, but not paper from the notepad. She opened her eyes and looked at Tom.

‘Talking about Jack reminded me. I’ve got something to show you. They’re the two letters I received from Jack – the one when he dumped me, and the other when he was asking for forgiveness just before he died. I brought them for you.’

Tom stood still. He didn’t know if he wanted to read the letters or not. He had enough on his mind without clouding it with more memories of Jack. Emma put the letters on the coffee table.

‘I printed them out. I knew he’d wipe them from my computer as soon as I’d opened them and had time to read them – so it was the first thing I did.’

‘You said he ended your relationship by email?’

‘Well, technically not email – he hacked into my computer.’

‘And did what, exactly?’

‘You know Jack couldn’t be bothered with things like email. And if you remember, he hated using the phone with a passion.’

Tom did indeed remember. Whenever Jack had no option but to use the telephone – mobile or landline – he would hold it in one hand and rub the top of his head with the other, as if totally perplexed. It had always been a source of amusement between Tom and Emma.

‘If he wanted to send me a message,’ Emma said, ‘he would write something and then hack into my desktop and leave a folder or a file sitting right in the middle so I couldn’t miss it. He liked me to know that he’d been there and could look at anything on my computer if he wanted to. It amused him.’

Tom was silent for a moment. ‘Did you tell David any of this?’

Emma looked puzzled. ‘He knew Jack had dumped me by email – sort of – but if you mean about the hacking into my computer, I don’t think so. Why?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Tom didn’t want to voice his suspicions out loud, even to Emma.

He took the letters and glanced at the first one. He realised immediately that this was something he needed to do in private and he was trying to work out how to excuse himself without appearing rude when Emma picked up her notepad and pencil again and mouthed the word ‘Go.’ He didn’t need telling twice.

Dear Emma

I am finding this email very difficult to write, but I don’t think I could bear to have this conversation face to face.

For the last few months, I’ve felt that we have drifted apart. Perhaps it was because I was no longer working full time and had too much time on my hands, but being together 24/7 showed me that we have little to say to each other. It was only when you went away for a brief stay with your family that it struck me how liberated I felt by your absence. And now that I’m away from you in London, it is even more apparent.

I’m sorry if that sounds cruel. It isn’t meant to be, and we have had some wonderful times together in the past. But our future is not as a couple.

I must tell you this now, as you will be certain to find out. I have met somebody else. She is a woman who has the same values as me, who enjoys the life of freedom that I now have and isn’t always in search of the next worthy cause to contribute to. She wants fun just as much as I do, and with that in mind we leave tomorrow for Monaco where I plan to buy a home in the sun.

I hope you can find it in you to forgive me for the hurt that I have inevitably caused, but I think you need a man who is more serious than I am.

I have transferred ownership of our home into your name, and you can keep it with my blessing. I have also taken my name off our joint bank accounts, and you are welcome to the not inconsiderable sums in each of them. As you know, I have funds in other places and if you find yourself in need of anything financially, please do not hesitate to contact me.

With affection always

Jack

Tom read the letter again. He couldn’t believe Jack would have done this to Emma. It seemed so unlike him. He would have been much more likely to end things by causing a monumental row, so that somehow it wasn’t his fault.

Tom opened the second folded note, and saw a much shorter message.

My darling Em

I’m sorry if the letter I sent all those months ago hurt you. You deserved better. You are, and always have been, wonderful.

I’ve made many mistakes in my life, and the day of reckoning has finally arrived. The decision I’ve made is going to cause pain to many people, particularly my family, but they have Tom. It’s the only way out of an unbearable existence. I’m sorry it’s come to this, but the time for me to leave this life has arrived. This time it’s goodbye forever.

Please forgive me for all my failures, and find your own happiness. If anybody deserves it, you do.

Jack

Tom felt his throat constrict. What could have happened to his brother to make him feel that life wasn’t worth living?

45

Becky had managed to complete two of the tasks assigned to her, but was struggling with the third. Natasha had locked herself back in her bedroom and wouldn’t speak to her. At least Becky had managed to convince Natasha to leave her phone downstairs, so she knew the girl wasn’t contacting any of those bastards and sharing information. She would deal with her later. First, she needed to feedback to Tom.

He answered his radio immediately.

‘Tom – we’re doing okay here. I’ve done a risk assessment, and it’s not great. There are several possible points of entry downstairs – front door, back door, French windows in the sitting room and dining room, and then there’s a huge kitchen-living room at the back of the house that not only has the back door, but also some glass doors to the garden.’

‘Bollocks – that makes it hard to protect them. Can we get a team in?’

Becky hated giving Tom bad news. She wanted to solve problems, not create them. But she had no ideas that would work.

‘I know we checked for surveillance, but this lot seem smart and I’d hate to risk it. There’s no back way in – all the paths lead down the side of the house and out the front. With a bit of time we could do something to bring more of us in, but creating a point of entry to the garden through the thick hedge and bushes would be noisy at night.’

‘What’s your recommendation, Becky?’

‘I don’t think Natasha is safe, and I think she knows it. If it all goes wrong they’ll blame her – and we know what will happen to her then. If it goes right, they’ll expect her back – they can’t afford to leave her here. If we’re going to protect Natasha, I suggest we have an armed response team standing close by. Very close by.’

With Tom’s agreement to organise the team and set up liaison with her, she moved on to describing her conversations with David Joseph.

‘I’ll be as succinct as possible. The vault and all the offices at Joseph & Son are below ground. Access to the building is via a communal entrance – lots of people know the code, but it only gets them as far as the entrance hall. There’s a coded keypad to Joseph & Son, but it’s on a time lock and can’t be opened outside working hours.’

‘Is he sure about that, Becky?’

‘He says so – we’d have to ask the people who installed it to be sure. Anyway, each safe deposit box has two keys – one kept by the owner, the other by Joseph & Son. You need both to open a box. The company’s keys are stored in a room that’s protected by a biometric lock and only four people’s prints can open it. David, of course, is one of them. There’s another biometric lock to the main area of the vault. That’s it.’

Becky hoped she hadn’t missed anything. David Joseph had gone on and on about how it was impossible, pacing the room, hands in pockets, repeating over and over that it couldn’t be done.

‘What about the contents of the boxes? Does he know what’s in them?’ Tom asked.

‘He says they don’t have a clue. The owners pull their box from its safe and take it into a private room to put whatever they want in. There are ordinary safes too, without boxes inside, in various larger sizes. According to David, a random attack would be a complete waste of time. He thinks most of the boxes hold personal documents, wills, house deeds – even love letters. But he says it’s irrelevant, because nobody can get in. Whatever’s going to happen, he says he’s convinced it’s got nothing to do with the vault.’

‘I can hear a ‘but’ there, Becky. What are you thinking?’

Becky knew she was sticking her neck out; Tom would understand, though, even if she turned out to be wrong.

‘I don’t believe him, Tom. He knows it’s the vault – but he doesn’t want us to
know
that he knows.’

*

There was nothing from his conversation with Becky that Tom thought worth sharing with Emma. Certainly he didn’t want her to know that her home was vulnerable. But as he made his way back to the sitting room he decided there was one thing he needed to ask her, because no matter how hard he tried to forget them, Jack’s words kept spinning through his mind.
Unbearable existence
.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked when he returned to the room.

‘I’m okay, but I need to ask how you would feel about me speaking to a professional about the last letter from Jack, to see if it’s possible to understand his frame of mind when he wrote it.’

Emma leaned back, resting her head against the sofa. ‘Do what you want, Tom. Do you mean a psychiatrist?’

‘No - a forensic linguist. They study how language is used – analyse the words and the structure of sentences – to get an understanding of the underlying meaning.’

Emma shrugged her shoulders. ‘It’s up to you. But it’s all a bit academic since he’s dead anyway.’

She was right, of course. But he was finding out other things about his brother and struggling to make sense of it all.

‘Thanks Emma. I appreciate that, and you’ll be pleased to hear that Becky’s nearly done at your house – she just wants to talk to Natasha and then we can get you back to them. How’s the list going?’

‘I don’t know if any of it’s useful. Tasha talked about the kind of jobs she had to do and the punishment she received. I’m not sure it will help, Tom, but I’ll carry on until Becky’s ready and see if I can think of anything else.’

‘Fine,’ Tom said. ‘I’m going to check in with a few people. I’ll go to my study, but I’ll let you know the minute there’s any news. Is that all right?’

Emma gave him a distracted nod of the head. He was certain she would prefer to be alone.

His study was actually a wide area off the hall at the front of the house. It had a small fireplace, and was surprisingly cosy even in the middle of winter. He sat down, the letters still in his hand, and stared at them for a moment longer, then pushed them to the back of his desk.

He wanted to call Becky back, but he knew she would call him when there was something to report. He looked at his watch.