What You Left Behind (40 page)

Lorraine had held her hand up to silence Jo. “Did you hear something?” They were in the middle of the courtyard.

“No,” Jo said.

They both stopped to listen. Lorraine strained her ears, turned to face the house, then toward the old barn ahead. The gardens and paddocks lay beyond.

“I swear I just heard someone cry out. Sorry, you were saying …”

They walked on.

“Well, Tony kept looking over at me and smiling. Not a smile like just ‘hi,’ but a smile that had real meaning. Malc’s smiles never—”

They both heard the scream this time.

“Hurry,” Lorraine said, running off in the direction of the barn.

There was another scream, shrill and piercing, as she flung open the wooden doors. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did she stuck out an arm, preventing Jo from getting any closer.

Jo became hysterical when she saw her son hanging from the beam. “Freddie, oh God no, Freddie!” Lana was screaming too, pressed against the back wall of the barn.

“Stay back!” Lorraine cried, but Jo ignored her and charged over to where Sonia was standing on some fallen bales, holding on to Freddie’s legs, desperately trying to lift him up, prevent him from choking. Her face was scarlet with the effort.

Lorraine searched around for something to stand on, not immediately noticing that Tony Hawkeswell was holding a shotgun, and pointing it straight at her.

“Get out,” Tony yelled, “or I’ll shoot.”

“No,” Lorraine said, angry but trying to stay calm, refusing to be stopped. Her eyes flicked down to the knife lying on the floor. Her
heart thumped in her chest as she grabbed it and shouted, “Drop the gun!”

The weapon was only a few feet from her face. She stared into Tony’s eyes—a dark and bitter place—and then saw where the rope was secured to the wall behind him. She had to get to that hook.

“The police will be here any moment, Tony, so just put the gun down,” she ordered, praying that Adam had called for backup.

“No … no …” he muttered, his voice faltering, the barrel unsteady. “I … I …”

There was simply no time for delay. Lorraine charged past Tony, intent on hacking through the rope. The shot momentarily stopped her in her tracks, the deafening sound ricocheting through her head, but she forged on and sawed frantically at the rope with the knife until it was cut in two. She swung round in time to see Freddie falling into the straw and Tony drop to the ground. She leaped over him to get to Freddie, kneeling down beside her nephew. Jo was already there, stroking her son’s hair, burying her face into his shoulder.

“Is he breathing?” Lorraine said, grappling the noose away from his neck. He was bruised and in shock, but she heard the rasping in his throat as his lungs gulped in air.

“Mum?” he murmured, already beginning to return to his normal color. He rubbed at his neck.

“Get him into the recovery position,” Lorraine said, dialing for an ambulance.

She turned and stared back at where Tony lay. Most of his face and the top of his head were blown open from where he’d shot himself, fragments of blood and flesh spread in a circle around him.

40

Lorraine had to work hard to encourage Gil to come out of the corner. His arms were clamped round his body as he stood up, terrified, trying not to look at Tony lying on the ground. Slowly, he walked toward Lorraine, keeping his eyes fixed low. Sonia had already taken Lana off to the house.

“Everything’s OK,” Lorraine said to Gil, putting her arm around him and leading him toward the doors. “You’re safe now.”

She turned back to Freddie, who was sitting up, his mother refusing to leave his side. “Can you walk?” she asked him.

“I think so,” he said, nodding and wincing as Jo helped him to stand, and hooking his arm over her shoulder.

“Tony can’t be angry with me now, can he?” Gil asked Lorraine
as he pushed the big doors open. “After I saw him kill Simon he forced me to keep quiet. I tried to stop Tony going into the barn and finding Simon with his boyfriend because it was a secret but I didn’t so it was my fault he killed Simon and Jason and now I just draw pictures to make everything better otherwise it hurts too much.” He took a big breath.

“No, he can’t get angry with you now,” Lorraine said.

“Tony said I had to keep quiet forever or else Lana and Sonia would get hurt, but Sonia knew that Tony killed Simon too, that’s why she is always sad.” Gil was panting, pulling at his clothes. “And then I saw the motorbike crash and Lana told me I had to keep quiet about that as well but it was really hard because things kept bursting out. And I’m sorry Freddie, I didn’t mean to scare you with the knife. I was trying to cut you down but then Tony and Sonia came and were fighting so I just went and hid because I was scared too.” Gil stretched his mouth wide and covered his face. “I would like to go to bed soon if that’s OK.”

“You’ll be able to shortly, Gil. Come back into the house with us now.”

Lorraine glanced at Jo and reached over to give her hand a squeeze before she ushered them all inside the back door. She sent them on in and waited outside because she’d spotted Adam running down the drive. His eyes were wide as he skidded to a stop beside her. Malc was following on behind.

“You OK?” he said, grabbing Lorraine with both arms.

“I’m fine. We found Freddie. He’s safe.”

Lorraine explained quickly what had happened, including what Gil had just told her.

Inside the crowded kitchen, Lana was sitting beside Freddie, staring down at her fingers. Gil was on the other side of her, his big arms ensnaring her. Lana had tears in her eyes and Freddie was comforting her. She looked up when Lorraine went over to them.

“It’s all our fault,” Lana said. “We should never have got Lenny to steal the laptop. Now him and my dad are … are dead.” She fell into another sobbing fit. “I should never have told you to give that ring to Abby either, Freddie. When I found it, I should have just chucked it in the lake.”

Lorraine did her best to reassure her, knowing now wasn’t the time to press her for more details. That would come later, when she made a statement.

Freddie stood up, clutching his shoulder, hugged his mother and Malc, then took his aunt aside.

“I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused, but it wasn’t without good reason,” he told her.

He looked utterly exhausted, and his voice was not much more than a croak, but Lorraine thought how grown-up he suddenly seemed.

“I was hiding at Gil’s place and found some awful pictures on Tony’s laptop.”

Lorraine held up her hands to spare him. “Yes, I know, love. Your mum and Tony.”

“No, there was more than that,” he said quietly. “I discovered an invisible folder.” His cheeks reddened. “There were some really vile pictures in it. As Gil said, Simon was murdered, and that’s why Tony was after me.” He bowed his head. “The laptop is still in the barn.”

“Oh, come here,” Lorraine said, embracing him tightly. “We were worried sick about you.”

The sound of sirens outside broke them up. A moment later there were two paramedics in the kitchen. Lorraine explained to them what had happened and left them to check Freddie out, even though he was protesting that he was absolutely fine. She went over to Sonia, who was leaning against the sink, looking terrified.

“I’ve let everyone down,” she said. Her face was slick with tears and her eyes flared. “It nearly happened again.” She took a moment to blow her nose. “I’ll never forget that day. We were all packed and about to go on holiday, but couldn’t find Simon anywhere. Then I
discovered him hanging. He didn’t look like my boy.” She wiped her face on her shirt sleeve. “Lana was waiting in the car, and Gil was out helping to look.”

Lorraine allowed her to speak, aware of the police arriving outside.

“I didn’t register what had happened at first.” She paused, swallowing a couple of times. “He was staring above my head, across the barn. Then Tony appeared, drenched in sweat, glaring at Simon with crazy eyes. I didn’t believe him when he told me he’d just found him like that.”

Sonia fixed her eyes on Lorraine, ignoring everyone else in the kitchen.

“Then Tony grabbed me, told me not to call the police. When I saw the scratches on his cheeks, the grazes on his knuckles, I knew he’d killed our son. There was something in his eyes too. He’d found Simon and Jason together, strangled Simon with a belt.”

Lorraine recalled the pathologist’s report, how it had mentioned a second, fainter ligature mark, possibly consistent with a badly tied knot slipping, in effect hanging him twice. Burnley had missed the obvious, concealed within the spate.

“Tony told me that he’d found them at it, said it had been going on right under our noses, that it was disgusting, and that he’d had no choice but to put a stop to it. He went after Jason a few days later.”

“I’m so sorry,” Lorraine said.

“But then something strange happened.” Sonia’s eyes narrowed. “He said there was a suicide note, that Simon had been depressed and wanted to end his life. I didn’t understand at first.”

“Go on,” Lorraine said, glancing out the window.

“He kept saying it over and over, making it into something believable, a better alternative to the truth. When I told him to show me the note, he said we had to write one, that we would do it for Simon. I told him no, said he had to give himself up, but then I began to wonder if he was right. How would I manage if he went to prison?”

She covered her face again.

“When I went to fetch a pen and paper from my bag in the car, Lana was still in there, listening to music, scowling because we were late. Gil was sitting beside her by then, stiff and white, staring straight ahead. I knew immediately that he knew. From that moment, he became part of our secret. I hated myself for it. But knowing that Simon had been in love was some comfort.”

Sonia’s face seemed calmer now, as if that thought combined with telling the truth was a relief.

“He’d planned on dropping out of university, going traveling with Jason.” She gripped Lorraine’s hands. “Tony wrote the words. It’s hard knowing what to put in your son’s suicide note.”

Lorraine shuddered, realizing just how much danger Freddie had been in the night Lenny was killed. It could so easily have been him on the railway tracks—his faked suicide note instead.

W
HEN
L
ORRAINE WENT
outside, the courtyard was filled with the
tick-tick
of blue flashing lights, and Adam was briefing the officers present. Several others were stepping into white forensics suits, ready to enter the barn once the SIO arrived—Greg Burnley, Lorraine assumed. Another was unraveling tape, cordoning off the courtyard in a wide circumference, logbook already in hand to record all comings and goings.

A car came down the drive and a woman, about Lorraine’s age and wearing a dark suit, got out. Lorraine went over to introduce herself.

“And Greg Burnley?” she said after learning that DI Walton had been assigned as the SIO.

“I understand he’s been suspended from duty, pending an investigation,” she replied, glancing around.

Lorraine nodded slowly and briefed her on what had happened.

She was about to head back into the house to see if the paramedics had finished with Freddie when she saw a figure lumbering up the drive. He slowed momentarily when he saw all the police.

“Frank,” Lorraine said. “There’s been an incident, I’m afraid.” She stared at the plastic bags he was holding.

“I was in the pub when I heard,” he said. “I came as fast as I could, but couldn’t keep up.” He was out of breath and dumped the bags on the ground. “I came round earlier to bring these back, but I couldn’t find Sonia. I collected the wrong ones the other day. I feel awful because the lads at New Hope already took some of the stuff.”

“Under the circumstances, I’m sure Sonia won’t mind,” Lorraine said.

Frank bowed his head. “I was guilty myself,” he said quietly. “I feel like a vulture.” He hesitated. “I don’t blame you if you press charges, but I took a cell phone. I couldn’t believe it was in the charity bag, but Sonia’s so kindhearted and I couldn’t afford a new one.”