Dont let him in, p.26
Don't Let Him In, page 26
How did he hear that? Those same contacts Dominic had in Simon’s legal team? The ones she’d never met, who somehow seemed to think she was untrustworthy and worked for a tabloid. Where did they get that idea from?
‘I was wondering if he said anything of note. Anyway, give me a call back when you can and let me know. Bye.’
Anything of note? Like the fact that he saw a uniformed police officer in the churchyard moments before he stumbled upon the body of Rose McIntyre. He had also told her that Katherine Prentiss had wanted to speak to him and had pushed a note through his door. This was significant but the police didn’t understand why at the time. Rebecca thought she did now, though. Katherine wanted to talk to Simon because she had questions for him, including the one Rebecca had just asked Simon twenty years later. Who did you see walking away from the churchyard just before you discovered the body?
Like Rebecca’s father, Katherine had contacts in the local CID. She might well have known Simon had claimed to have seen a detective walking away that day. Her contacts wouldn’t have been shy in revealing that so they could rubbish his story, because there were no detectives in Eriston that day, according to DI Hall. Perhaps Katherine had decided not to accept that and wouldn’t let it go. Rebecca hadn’t after all. Maybe they were more alike than she would have admitted, at least as reporters.
If Simon had just used the word policeman instead of detective, then the investigation would have gone very differently from the beginning. Hall and the rest of the detectives on that case could all account for their movements, so they naturally assumed Simon was making it up to try to save his own skin. None of them realized the boy had actually seen a man in uniform but didn’t know the difference between a policeman and a detective.
If someone knew Katherine was trying to speak to Simon, during the gap between his first questioning and eventual arrest, that might be sufficient reason to silence her. If she revealed what Simon had actually seen, it would be a strong enough motive to kill her. Maybe it also explained why Rebecca’s father had to die. He was the only person to visit the man in prison apart from the boy’s mother, and he’d wanted to go and see Simon again. What if he had probed further into Simon Kibbs’s story and found out what the boy had really witnessed that day? Her father had been silenced before that could happen.
If all this was true, then there was surely only one man who could have killed Rose, Katherine and Rebecca’s father, and he had just left her a voicemail.
There was a bang on the side window then and Rebecca jumped. Her stomach lurched as she whirled round to see someone standing by the window. At first, in her shocked state, she thought it was Dominic. He had driven here to meet her, to find out what she had learned from Simon Kibbs. But, no, her eyes focused on the man who was staring at her now and it wasn’t Dominic. He had a look of concern on his face. It was the prison officer who had watched her sign out. Tentatively she wound the window down, just enough to hear him speak.
‘Miss, you dropped this.’ And he held up his hand. It was her Sheaffer pen. Rebecca had left the prison quickly and gone to her car in such haste, she had forgotten to do up her bag properly and not heard the pen hit the ground.
‘Thank you,’ she said, as he handed it through the window to her. She took the pen and slipped it into her inside jacket pocket.
Rebecca drove straight home and moved swiftly from her parked car to the front door, unlocking it and getting inside as quickly as possible in case Dominic was nearby. She closed the door behind her, locked and bolted it and double-checked the back door was locked and bolted too, then went upstairs in case he showed up and tried to peer through her window to see if she was home.
Dominic phoned twice more that afternoon but Rebecca did not pick up. She couldn’t face speaking to him. She desperately needed some time to think. She wished Alan was here with her and not miles away in Edinburgh, so she wouldn’t be on her own tonight. She didn’t have anyone to talk to about her new theory that Dominic Green might be the man responsible for the deaths of Rose, Katherine and her father. It still seemed incredible, impossible even, but what other reasonable explanation could there be for the presence of a uniformed policeman in the churchyard that day when Rose was killed and why would he walk away from the scene and not towards it? Why also would he not simply declare that he had been there just before the murder, unless he was leaving the scene of the crime?
Rebecca recalled Dominic’s disgrace at that earlier crime scene when he was still a rookie police officer. The woman had bled all over him so that all the physical evidence there had been contaminated. He had sworn she was still alive and had hoped to save her. DI Hall, by contrast, had said, ‘Lazarus was in better nick than her by the time we found her.’
Oh God, he killed her too, didn’t he?
What about the latest woman to have gone missing? Was he responsible for Amanda Mayhew’s disappearance too? Was that how he knew about the wind chimes?
How the hell was she going to convince anyone of this when she could barely convince herself? Who would believe that Dominic Green, the local police officer, known for his obsession with finding the killer of Rose and Katherine, was actually the man he was pretending to look for? If that was true, then it was genius.
No wonder women let him in.
But all Rebecca had was the word of a convicted murderer and even that was flimsy. He had seen a policeman walking away from the scene. Would that be sufficient to convince reluctant authorities to re-examine the case? She strongly doubted it. She could only imagine the scorn DI Hall would pour on her theory, if she was foolish enough to approach him with it. She had been defending Dominic all this time and now suspected him of murder. Hall would laugh in her face.
So why would Dominic be so obsessed with keeping that truth locked away? Was it because once people began to doubt him all his behaviour would then be challenged? Where was he on the day of the murder in the graveyard and did he have an alibi? Of course not. He was there. Who could have lured Katherine Prentiss to a meeting in the woods and why would she go? Did Dominic promise her information, then kill her before she could speak to Simon? Then there was his behaviour towards Claire Tilbury, his ex, who swore he had destroyed her life, just as he had threatened to do, and, of course, his contamination of a crime scene he himself had caused. When you added all this together, along with his ability to get close to her unsuspecting father, supposedly to help him with his own investigation into the murders, it began to add up.
Dominic had said he had links to Simon Kibbs’s legal team and would put in a word on her behalf to secure her a visit. Instead that same team had tried to dissuade Simon from speaking to her, because they were convinced she was a tabloid hack who would trap their client. Only Dominic could have done that and now she knew why. She could probably get the solicitors to admit it too, if the policeman came under enough suspicion.
It wouldn’t be enough, though, not to get the police to take it seriously.
So what could she do? Think, Rebecca.
No newspaper or mainstream news site would ever allow Rebecca to go public with her suspicions of Dominic Green. She could never name him. Even if they didn’t think she was crazy, they would be too worried he would sue them for libel, but what if she could out him in a different way?
How could she get reputable, widely read news organizations to take her seriously? She knew how they worked and what to do to attract their attention. Give them a crumb, just enough to get them asking questions, so they would come to her and not the other way round. A blog page and maybe a podcast with a headline to entice even the most jaded editor. ERISTON ROSE KILLER IDENTIFIES MAN LEAVING MURDER SCENE.
That ought to do it. Even if they thought it was clickbait, they would be sure to read it, just in case. No one wants to be the one to miss an exclusive.
Rebecca wouldn’t name Dominic but she could describe her visit to see Simon Kibbs in prison. This was almost news in itself, since he’d permitted himself only one other visitor, apart from his own mother, in twenty years and her father had not publicized the fact. She could describe how he saw a detective leaving the graveyard and was ignored by the police, then silenced by his own defence team because no one believed him. Her explanation that he really meant a police officer would lead her to ask an open question to Northumbria Police. Did they know where all their officers were that day and could they account for the movements of all their men at crucial times when other women had disappeared?
Rebecca knew her lone voice would not be enough. She would have to use all her skill to write a piece convincing enough to entice newspapers to start asking awkward questions of the police. Only then would they bow to pressure and investigate their own officers. The accumulation of circumstantial evidence against Dominic would be damning and if they delved more deeply into his life, they might even find the proof they needed.
She could write the piece, set up the web page, post the blog and send the links to every news organization she could think of. Then she would get out of town for a few days until it had been seen by enough people. A raised profile would be a form of protection against Dominic and he wouldn’t dare come after her.
It was a plan. It might even work.
Her phone rang again then. It was Dominic, calling for a fourth time since he had left that voicemail. He was clearly rattled but what should she do? Rebecca didn’t want to speak to him but if she failed to answer, he would become even more suspicious of her. He might realize she had extracted the truth from Simon and that would put her in immediate danger. Perhaps he would come straight round. Rebecca needed to stall him.
She tried to put his almost certain guilt out of her mind and told herself this was all about self-preservation. She picked up the phone and spoke in as breezy a tone as she could manage. ‘Hi, Dominic.’ She could feel the tremble in her voice, the words seeming to catch in the back of her throat, and she wondered if he could hear it too.
‘Hi, Rebecca,’ he said. ‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I forgot to charge my phone and it went flat while I was out but it’s charged now obviously.’
He didn’t respond for a moment and she wondered if he didn’t believe her. ‘That’s not like you.’
‘I’m having an off day.’
‘Did you get my voicemail?’
‘Yes, yes, I was just about to call you back. I did go and see Simon.’
‘And?’
‘It was a bit of a waste of time, if I’m honest.’ She was trying to sound embarrassed. ‘I didn’t get anything new from him.’
‘Oh, really? I thought you might have.’ Was he waiting for her to speak now? ‘So he didn’t tell you anything?’
‘He talked about the murders, but nothing I didn’t already know.’
‘I see. That’s a shame.’
Rebecca didn’t answer. She realized she was actually holding her breath, hoping he would believe her, then hang up. Instead he said, ‘I was going to pop round for a catch-up.’
Rebecca couldn’t allow that, but how could she prevent it without him becoming suspicious?
‘Are you at home now?’ he asked her.
The very last thing she wanted was to be alone with him here.
‘I am but I’ve got to nip out again now.’ And she desperately tried to think of a reason before coming up with ‘I’ve got to go to the doctors.’
‘Really? Why?’
Shouldn’t she just tell him to mind his own business? Wouldn’t she normally do that if a man asked her such a personal question or should she invent something to embarrass him and put an end to his prying?
She settled on: ‘I’ve not been feeling good for a while now and I need to get checked out.’
‘I didn’t realize you weren’t well.’
‘It’s probably something I picked up on my travels.’
‘Right.’ His tone wasn’t just unsympathetic; it was almost scornful. He didn’t believe her, she could tell. Maybe he even wanted her to know he didn’t believe her. There was a long pause on the line then and she wondered if he had gone until he finally said, ‘All right then, Rebecca. Maybe we’ll catch up tomorrow instead.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘let’s.’
She said goodbye and finished the call.
‘Jesus Christ,’ she said aloud, because now Rebecca was more convinced than ever that she had just had a conversation with the man who had murdered her father.
43
That evening Rebecca made sure her front and back doors were both locked and she drew the downstairs curtains but did not put the lights on. Instead she used the light from one small lamp in the living room to see by. She hoped that if Dominic drove up to the house, he would imagine she was out somewhere. She resolved not to answer the door to him or anyone else. She needed time to think about her next steps and how to go about them.
Her phone beeped then and she felt a sense of rising panic in case it was Dominic. She was hugely relieved to see that the message was instead from Alan. Rebecca was even happier when she read it.
Back early. Can you meet me?
When? she messaged back.
Now, of course, Shortbread.
She smiled at that. Where?
My house. Just come over. Please. I want to see you.
Alan was exactly what she needed right now to take her mind from all the fear and the worry, at least until morning when she could start work on her blog post. She would feel so much safer at his house too and could stay the night there. All she had to do was get out of here and into her father’s car without being surprised by Dominic and she would be safe.
Rebecca peered out through a small gap to one side of the drawn curtains. There was nobody in the road outside, which was only half lit by that one flickering street lamp. A sea mist had descended but she could still make out her father’s car, which was parked nearby. She could see the top of the road and the outlines of the trees and bushes opposite but little else.
Someone could wait right outside her door, of course, standing off to one side of it, but Rebecca banished that thought from her mind in case she lost the nerve to leave the house. Why hadn’t she asked Alan to come and get her? She could ring him back now but this was stupid. The car was just yards from the front door and no one but Alan knew she was about to leave the house.
She grabbed her bag, phone and keys, positioning them so the sharp pointed end of her door key protruded through her fingers in case she was attacked, then she opened the door, stepped outside, closed it behind her and immediately went straight to the car at a brisk pace.
The car was nearby but not close enough and she heard something flutter in the bushes. Was he coming for her? Rebecca told herself it was a bird but broke into a run anyway. She pressed the key on the fob and the car’s lights blinked at her, then she pulled open the door and was about to get straight in when she stopped and checked the back seat. That was how they always got you in movies. You sat down in the driver’s seat, thought you were safe and they grabbed you from behind.
No one there. She did not hang about then. Rebecca climbed into the car, closed the door and immediately locked it in case that sound had not been a startled bird, then she started the engine and drove quickly away and down the hill. She had never felt more relieved to put her home behind her.
Rebecca rang the bell at Alan’s house and waited but there was no answer. She knocked but still he did not come to the door. Perhaps he was upstairs or out the back and couldn’t hear her but he had to be there because he had messaged Rebecca to come round and there were lights on inside. She still had Alan’s spare key so she opened the front door and went inside. She turned on the hall light and called, ‘Alan?’
No reply.
Was this a stupid joke? Was Alan mucking about and would suddenly leap out on her? Surely he wouldn’t be that idiotic? Rebecca would be seriously pissed off with him if he was.
She opened the door to the lounge and reached for the light but when she flicked the switch it didn’t come on. The bulb must have gone but she noticed movement in the far corner of the lounge and she stepped inside. The light from the hallway was no longer being blocked by her body and she could see more clearly. The sight that greeted Rebecca made her freeze in shock.
Claire Tilbury was sitting on the floor. She was tied up and gagged but conscious and staring right back at Rebecca, wide-eyed. Claire was distressed and more than likely in pain but the most immediate signal she was giving with her eyes was one of alarm.
Rebecca only had a second to work out what was going on. There was no sign of Alan or anyone else but someone had tied the woman up and, even in her fearful, shocked state, Rebecca could see they knew what they were doing. The gag was so tight round Claire’s mouth that when she attempted to speak, whatever she was trying to say was horribly distorted and Rebecca could not make out a word of it.
Claire’s face contorted then and Rebecca realized the other woman was trying to communicate with her eyes, which were wild and had an urgent look in them. Rebecca suddenly understood what Claire was trying to tell her but by then it was too late.
There’s someone behind you.
Before she could turn to see who it was, Rebecca felt a sharp, searing pain in the side of her head. She toppled forward and fell to her knees, shocked and in pain. Her attacker was on Rebecca before she could move, pinning her head down with his hand, then letting his body weight force her towards the floor. Was he trying to kill or rape her? She felt a sharp pain in her arm then, which must have been the point of a needle. In a desperate panic to free herself Rebecca struggled harder, then suddenly found she had no strength left in her at all.
Got you.
I told you that you were done.
