Behind Closed Doors (33 page)

Over the next few weeks, as winter set in and the end of the year approached, Scarlett had watched the house whenever she got the chance. Sometimes there was no sign of anyone; a few times, either Annie or Clive would come out and set off somewhere. She was always hoping for an opportunity but they never seemed to leave Juliette on her own. In any case, as the weeks and months passed, the desperate need to get her sister away from them had receded. She was alive and apparently well, not screaming, not imprisoned. What would she even say, if Scarlett knocked on the door? Would she even recognise her, after everything that had happened? The sister she’d been crying out for in the background of that phone call, the fifteen-year-old rebel who had looked out for her, was long gone. And what did Scarlett have to offer her, anyway? She worked in a brothel, washed dirty clothes and made sure the girls had enough condoms. She had a tiny room and no money. What if Juliette didn’t want to know her, now; what if she was disappointed?

She carried on visiting the park to watch the house, but it was more out of curiosity than anything else. This would have been her life. She felt detached from it, haunting the swings. Keeping her distance.

It was getting dark now, as well as cold. Scarlett was on the verge of calling Reggie to get him to come and pick her up when the front door of the house opened, and her heart stopped: Clive and Annie were coming out of the house, both of them, for the first time. Annie was wearing a dress and heels. Clive opened the passenger door for her – ever the gentleman – before going round to the driver’s side. The Volvo drove off towards the town.

It was the chance Scarlett had been waiting for, but now it was here it took her several moments before she could summon the courage. She took a deep breath in. Was she going to stay here forever, watching and not moving? Something had to happen. Something had to change.

There was no reply when she knocked on the door. Fidgety with nerves, Scarlett kept glancing behind her, expecting them to come back at any moment. She lifted the letterbox flap, looked down the long hallway that was so familiar.

‘Juliette?’ she called. ‘Are you there? It’s me.’

When there was still no reply, Scarlett began to wonder if Juliette might have moved out after all. She was twenty-three – she might have gone to university, or got a job. Just because she’d been there on the doorstep with Clive that first day, and Scarlett had seen her shape through a downstairs window a couple of times, there was no reason to assume she actually lived there.

Well, she herself was here now, and with both of them apparently out for the evening it felt like an opportunity for Scarlett to have a nose around. The gate wasn’t locked, and a moment later Scarlett was in the back garden. The old shed had been replaced with a summerhouse, a new section of decking at the back, pots full of flowers, the lawn neatly trimmed and weed-free. The back door which led into the utility room was unlocked. Scarlett opened it, stepped into the house. She walked back in time, into the life she had had before, smelling the house and the dinner her mother had cooked last night, her father’s aftershave.

Juliette was standing in the hallway, staring at the front door, her back to Scarlett. How had she not heard her come in?

‘Juliette,’ Scarlett said.

Half an hour later, Sam had exhausted both of the night shelters in Briarstone, and all of the others within an hour’s drive. Even the one in Charlmere – well, it was worth a try, wasn’t it? – no longer had any capacity at all. Time for Plan B. She called in to the control room, spoke to the night duty inspector and got authorisation to get Scarlett back into the Travel Inn for another two nights, the rationale being that she wouldn’t be tempted to check out first thing the next morning, and they would know where she was, at least for thirty-six hours.

‘I know it might seem easier to stay here,’ Sam said, as she started up her car, ‘but it’s just not something I’m allowed to do.’

‘And you don’t trust me,’ Scarlett said. She’d taken the news that she was going back to the Briarstone Travel Inn surprisingly well.

‘It’s not that,’ Sam said, although this was possibly not entirely true. ‘It’s that you’re a potential witness in a live investigation. And if you feel in danger, you’d be far safer in a place where nobody except me and the duty inspector knows where you are, right?’

‘Right,’ Scarlett said.

‘We’ll be in touch in the morning, check you’re okay. See if we can find you something a bit more permanent.’

‘You mean
you’ll
be in touch in the morning? I don’t want to talk to anyone else.’

Sam looked across at her. The security light outside the garage was illuminating Scarlett’s face, her eyes hidden in deep shadow.

‘All right,’ Sam said. ‘Just don’t disappear on me again, okay?’

And Scarlett smiled, and again Sam felt something give. Behind the greasy cropped hair and the dirty sweatshirt, behind the eyeliner smudged under her eyes – God knew when she’d put that on – and the chapped lips, there was someone so breathlessly gorgeous that Sam felt her heart start to break.

The Travel Inn was just ten minutes’ drive away, thankfully. Sam spoke to the woman behind reception while Scarlett skulked in the doorway, chewing at a fingernail.

‘Room 116,’ Sam said eventually, handing Scarlett the keycard. ‘Here you go. I’ll come and see you in the morning. Sleep tight.’

For a moment Scarlett stared at Sam, challenging, accusing, then she took the card.

‘Thanks,’ she said, and slouched off in the direction of the stairs.

Back in the car, Sam let out a huge sigh of relief and picked up her mobile to call Lou. For now, Scarlett was sorted.

04/11/2013, 00:12

Dispatch Log 1104-0021

04/11/2013, 06:25

Dispatch Log 1104-0072

Lou woke up abruptly to the sound of her work phone ringing downstairs. She got out of bed quickly, nearly falling down the stairs in her haste.

‘Lou Smith,’ she said.

It was Rob Jefferson, one of the Major Crime DIs. ‘Ma’am, sorry to bother you so early. We’ve just had a report of a murder and assault, Russet Avenue. Just off London Road. It’s been assigned to my team but this guy is flagged to you.’

‘To me? What’s his name?’

‘Rainsford, Clive Rainsford. He’s been identified by his daughter. And the assault is his wife, Annie Rainsford. She’s in the hospital but unconscious.’

‘Thanks, Rob. I’ll be there in less than an hour; can I have a quick meeting with you first thing?’

Jefferson agreed and rang off.
Clive
Rainsford
, Lou thought –
shit. What next?
She took a deep breath and ran back up the stairs. If she hurried she just about had time for a shower.

She would need to call Sam first thing, Lou thought. She’d been at the Rainsford house yesterday with Caro Sumner – Clive’s death might well count as a ‘death following police contact’. And she’d had that meeting with Annie on Saturday. There would likely be an internal investigation. As she rinsed her hair, she wondered if SB had been notified too – she must remember to ring Caro as well as Sam. This wasn’t even going to be her case, unless she could convince Mr Buchanan to let her oversee it. Clive Rainsford, unpleasant as he was, was not a dealer or a member of an organised crime group at any level. If Annie was in hospital with injuries too, it was possible it had been a domestic between the two of them.

Drying herself off and getting dressed as quickly as she could, Lou tried to rein in the theories already tumbling over themselves in her mind. It didn’t help at this stage. She knew next to nothing about what had happened. Better to wait until she had a chance for a proper briefing with Rob.

Sam was sitting with Scarlett in the pub next door to the Travel Inn, the one that helpfully provided breakfasts for the morning after, and for a change the sun was shining through the window, showing the finger marks on the stainless steel teapot on the table between them. Scarlett was working her way through a full English, and although Sam had paid for two breakfasts the sight of the dripping egg yolk smeared on Scarlett’s plate and smell of fat coming from the kitchen had taken away her appetite. The two pieces of toast on her plate were cold and bendy and she’d only managed one bite.

Sam was distracted by Scarlett, even more so because of what she was wearing. Conscious that she’d not seen Scarlett in anything other than the chewed sweatshirt and grubby jeans, she had found some old but clean clothes at the back of her wardrobe, and brought them with her this morning.

‘I know what you said about cast-offs,’ Sam had said, handing the carrier bag through the door of Room 116, open a crack to reveal darkness and a tangled mop of hair, ‘but – well, you know, I thought you might be ready for a change of clothes by now.’

Giving Scarlett clothing was probably breaching some regulation or other, but that wasn’t what was troubling her. It was only when Scarlett had arrived in the reception area of the hotel thirty minutes later, with freshly washed hair, dressed in a white blouse and jeans made to fit by the addition of a tightly cinched belt, that she’d realised the clothes were Jo’s – of course they were; everything shoved at the back of the wardrobe belonged to her ex, because after all what was she supposed to do with it all? And, looking at the blouse, Sam had realised it was the one Jo had worn to her disciplinary hearing. Not long after that Jo had left, packed a bag and gone, leaving Sam and all manner of other things behind. Sam hadn’t seen her since.

Scarlett coughed and Sam focused her attention back on the room. Luckily they were the only ones here. The hotel was usually dead quiet during the week, which was how they’d managed to negotiate special rates for the emergency waifs and strays that the police needed to find a safe place for.

‘How did you sleep?’ Sam asked.

‘Not bad,’ Scarlett said. ‘Bit more comfy than the bus station.’

‘Is that where you spent the night before?’

Scarlett nodded. ‘And walking around. When it opened I went and sat in the library to warm up. I was reading the newspapers. I saw an article about Mrs Rowden-Knowles in the
Eden Evening Times
. She was with a bunch of other people protesting about road-building or something, in their village. There was a picture of her outside her house. Teacher, it said. I knew it was her.’

‘So you thought you’d go and find her?’

‘Something to do, wasn’t it? I think I scared the life out of her,’ Scarlett said, smiling at the thought of it. ‘She was kind to me, though. I don’t think I deserved her kindness. I was a pain in the backside at school —’

Scarlett stopped abruptly. Sam’s mobile phone was vibrating on the table.

‘I’d better get that,’ Sam said. ‘It’s probably work. You okay?’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Scarlett said. ‘Go ahead.’

The caller display showed Lou’s mobile.

‘Hiya,’ Sam said.

‘Morning, Sam,’ Lou said. ‘Are you free to talk?’

‘Not really. Can I ring you back later and explain?’

‘Why, where are you?’ Lou’s tone was grave.

‘I’m with Scarlett right now. We’re in the pub next door to the Travel Inn – whatever it’s called; I can never remember.’

‘That’s good to hear. But this can’t wait, I’m afraid. Do me a favour: just make sure this is out of earshot?’

‘Sure. Scarlett, will you excuse me for a sec?’ Sam got to her feet, went to the door of the pub and stood in the entrance vestibule. From here she could still see the girl at the table. She had helped herself to Sam’s discarded toast and was munching on it.

‘Go ahead, boss. What’s up?’

‘I had a call earlier this morning. Clive Rainsford was found dead this morning. Annie is in hospital.’

‘Shit! What happened?’

‘Juliette found them outside the front of the house first thing. All they’ve got from her so far is that they went out for the evening, and she didn’t hear them come in. It looks as though they were attacked on the doorstep when they got home. I’m on my way into the briefing now.’

‘Do you need me to come back to the station?’

‘No, Sam. I really need you to stay with Scarlett for now. Whatever happens, I don’t want her to disappear again. If it looks like she’s going to do a runner you can arrest her – for her own safety if nothing else. All right?’

‘Of course.’

‘What about her movements last night?’

‘She turned up with her former teacher at about half-ten. I took her to the hotel – and I left her at just before one, when I called your mobile.’

‘Her teacher?’

‘I’ve got her details written down – Mrs Rowden-Knowles. Scarlett found her somehow, she brought her round to my house.’

‘We’ll need to get a statement from her. And Scarlett, of course.’

‘I’ll try and get as much of that out of her as I can,’ Sam said.

‘Sure. If you feel you have to tell her the news about Clive and Annie, do – it’s your call.’

‘Right.’

Back at their table, Scarlett had finished eating. She looked up when she heard Sam approach, treating Sam to one of her radiant smiles. ‘Everything okay? Your boss checking up on you?’

‘Something like that,’ Sam said. ‘Scarlett, can I ask why you weren’t keen to see your family?’

The smile died and a cloud came over. Scarlett looked away, bit her lip. She began fiddling with the teapot, pouring herself another cup. ‘Put it this way,’ she said at last, ‘I didn’t think they’d want to see me. Turns out I was right about that, wasn’t I?’

Sam was certain that she was withholding something. If in doubt, it was worth a direct question. ‘Did you try to make contact with them?’

Scarlett considered her answer for a long time, and when it came out Sam knew it was a lie. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I was too scared.’

‘Why were you scared, Scarlett? They could have helped you. They thought you were dead.’

‘I didn’t want their help,’ she said. ‘I thought they would be ashamed of what I was doing, so I stayed away. But now they know I’m here, I’m not so scared any more – especially with you here, Sam.’

She took a deep breath, summoned up a smile.

‘I’m going to have to face them sooner or later. Get it over with – right?’

Rob Jefferson was on his way into the stuffy, airless room that had been designated as the incident room for Op Vanguard – the murder of Clive Rainsford.

‘Ma’am,’ he said, seeing Lou heading towards him in the corridor. ‘Sorry – I know we were supposed to meet, but the briefing’s been brought forward. Are you able to sit in? It’ll bring you up to speed with everything we’ve got so far. We can have a chat afterwards, if that’s any good?’