Everything to Lose Page 10

The woman’s hand flew to her chest. “What? Oh yes. I'm Shelly. I’m just on edge after…you know, everything that’s happened.”

  “I’m sorry about your friend,” Ashley said softly.

  “Thank you,” Shelly said, bending down to pick up the contents of the box.

  Ashley knelt down to help.

  “I wasn’t expecting another visit from the police now that the animal has been caught.”

  Ashley winced. “I’m only here for an informal chat.” She stood as she put the last item into the box.

  “I’ve told the police all I know already,” Shelly said, closing the lid on the box and running her hand through her hair.

  “I know, but sometimes after a few days, you can remember things that didn’t seem important at the time.”

  Shelly gave a bitter laugh. “Believe me, I didn’t forget anything. How could I? It’s all etched in my brain. I will never forget any of it. Ever!” Her face crumpled in pain. “You should…have…seen…it…seen…her.” She buried her face in her hands as she began to sob.

  Ashley took a step towards her and rested her hand on the woman’s shoulder, trying to comfort her, but saying nothing as she knew there were no words that could help erase what she had witnessed. Ashley remained until the other woman calmed down and her tears slowed.

  “I won’t keep you long, Shelly. I just have a few questions that need answering then you can get on with your packing.” She eyed the boxes. “Where are you going?”

  “As far away from this place as possible. The police only just let me back in, and I don’t want to stay here a minute longer than it takes to get my stuff out.”

  “That’s understandable.” Ashley paused, then spoke again. “Can I just ask, did Emily have any ex-boyfriends who might have wanted to hurt her?”

  “Like I told the other officers, no. There was no one. No boyfriends, no co-workers. No one. The animal that killed her is the one that’s been arrested.”

  “So neither of you noticed any strange men hanging around recently? How about any tradesmen doing any maintenance or work nearby?”

  Shelly looked at her impatiently. “No. Look, what’s this about? Do you lot have the right bastard or not?” Her bottom lip trembled. Her eyes filled with fear. “Am I safe?”

  Ashley dodged the question by backing away towards the door. The truth was she didn’t know. It was a good thing Shelly was moving. She dreaded thinking about the killer coming back for her.

  “Just be vigilant, Shelly. Report anything that strikes you as strange to the police.” She turned to go. “Thanks for your time.”

  Ashley stepped over the threshold. She was disappointed that she had got no closer to finding out the truth. As she turned back to say goodbye, Ashley noticed a bruise on the side of Shelly’s face.

  “Hey, what happened to your face?” Ashley asked.

  “Oh, this,” she replied, touching her jaw. “It’s nothing really. It happened on the night Emily was killed. After the police questioned me, I had to get away from this place. So I decided to go to my Mum’s. She lives around the corner. I was in such a daze, I walked straight into someone. He nearly knocked me out, massive he was. Luckily, he caught me before I hit the ground, or I’d probably be in the hospital now with a concussion.”

  Ashley raised her eyebrows. “Yes, very lucky. What time was this?”

  “Erm, about midnight.”

  “Did the man seem in any way suspicious to you?”

  “Well, he made off pretty sharpish. He didn’t check to see if I was okay, just said a quick ‘sorry’, then ran. I think he was embarrassed at knocking me off my feet, that’s all.”

  “He ran? Did you get a good look at him?” she said, taking out her notepad and pen.

  Shelly looked up to the ceiling. “Not really, no. He was wearing a hoodie. To be honest, I was more concerned about my face than his.”

  “And you said he was well-built?” Ashley asked, scribbling with urgency onto her pad. Shelly carried on and was unaware that Ashley was watching her intently.

  “Yes, very muscular. It was like slamming into a brick wall. He must have been at least six-foot-two or three.” Shelly paused. “What I did notice though, were his eyes…they were really, really dark, almost black. When he looked at me, it wasn’t a normal kind of look. It was more like he was looking into my soul or something. Could have been my state of mind or the dark that made him look creepy, I don’t know. It was over so quickly. As I said, it really was nothing.”

  Her eyes misted over as if she was reliving the moment again. Her vision cleared and she looked at Ashley, then her boxes. “Anything else you want to know or can I carry on getting my stuff?”

  “Did you tell the officers who questioned you before about this man?”

  “No. I mean, I didn’t think it was relevant.” Shelly looked up from the box she was closing. “You don’t think he could have had something to do with it, do you? That there were two killers?” she asked. Her forehead creased with anxiety.

  “Probably not,” Ashley tried to keep her voice even as she continued, “But it’s good to gather as much information as we possibly can. I’ll let you get on. I’ve taken up enough of your time already.” Ashley nearly skipped down the path. Surely this couldn’t be a coincidence. This was the first piece of good news in what had so far been a hopeless pursuit. It might not prove Nathan’s innocence, but it was a damn good place to start. If she could find this hooded giant with dark soulless eyes... She crossed her fingers. Could things possibly be taking a turn for the better? She dare not even hope so yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Waiting for Dale to finish work had been torture. Ashley was itching to share what she had found out with him in person. Nathan’s neighbour, Ms. Richards, had called her and after twenty minutes of listening to her ramble on about the level of crime rising in Harlow, Ashley had eventually managed to prise out of her the details of what she’d seen on the day of the break in. Buoyed by the definite sighting of the man in the hoodie, Ashley had written down what Ms. Richards had said word for word so she could return to it later and recheck the information.

  A little after lunch time the solicitor from Colin’s firm contacted her. Mrs Marks well-spoken voice only confirmed what Colin had said. The man she saw was “rather large” as she so eloquently put it. When Dale finally arrived she could barely contain her excitement.

  “Whoa, slow down and start again,” Dale said as he took off his leather jacket and settled down on the sofa in Ashley’s living room, having been greeted at the door with a torrent of information gushing forth from Ashley.

  Ashley caught her breath and stopped pacing the floor. “Okay, okay. On the night of Emily Hill’s murder, her flatmate said she bumped into a man on the street.” Ashley looked expectantly at Dale, waiting for the penny to drop.

  “And that’s got you excited because…?”

  “Because he fits the description of the man at Nathan’s apartment and at his workplace. In all cases, the women who saw him described him as being a very big man in a hoodie. Look, we know Emily thought someone was stalking her at the bar. If it was the same man that broke into his flat he would have seen Nathan was going to Moe’s on his calendar. Maybe the guy wasn’t stalking her. Maybe he was stalking Nathan.”

  “Allegedly,” Dale interrupted. “We only have that on the word of your brother. Was this the mystery man the flatmate saw brandishing a knife? Did she see blood on his clothes? He would have been covered in it if he was the murderer.”

  Ashley looked down sheepishly. “Well, she didn’t mention anything about blood. But it was dark though, and she nearly fell... and....”

  Dale interrupted her. “Come on, Ash. Don’t you think you’re clutching at straws here?”

  Her head snapped up. “Dale, listen to me. I feel in my gut this guy has something to do with Emily’s murder.”

  Dale sighed. Ashley couldn’t believe that he didn’t get it. He’d trusted Ashley’s gut feelings befor
e and more often than not they had panned out. Surely he owed her some leniency now.

  “Okay, let me play devil’s advocate here.” He spread his large hands flat out on his knees.

  Ashley nodded. “Go on,” she said as he paused.

  “Let’s say this man Emily’s flatmate bumped into was the killer. What was his motive? Why, if he was stalking Nathan, would he murder Emily Hill? From what I’ve heard, there wasn’t any sign of a break-in, and, as far as we know, nothing was stolen. Are you saying this guy randomly decided to go and kill this woman because he saw your brother walking her home? I know you need to find the answers to free Nathan, Ash, but this lead has quite a few holes in it.”

  Ashley ran a hand through her hair and looked at the ceiling as she spoke. “I don’t know the reason yet, but it just seems as if all the pieces are beginning to fit together – there’s a man out there who’s responsible for Emily’s death. Forget him stalking Nathan then. Maybe he followed Emily home from the bar and waited until he saw Nathan leave,” she said, trying to visualise the scene. “He could have knocked on the door straight afterwards, and she opened it, thinking it was Nathan returning.” She turned her eyes to Dale’s face and raised her eyebrows at him. “Well?”

  “Okay, that sounds plausible enough. But following your logic, it still doesn’t explain Nathan’s blood being present in her flat.”

  “Oh. That’s easy. Nathan told me he had a cut on his finger and it must have opened when he used the bathroom.” She inhaled deeply and dropped onto the sofa beside Dale.

  “But he told you he only used her toilet. How did his blood get on the bedroom door handle?”

  She felt herself deflate. She could only explain away the blood in the bathroom.

  She sat upright as an idea popped into her head. “Unless…” she paused, letting the idea form in her head before she spoke it. “Unless the stalker’s aim was to frame Nathan! He found the blood in the bathroom and moved it to the handle.” She turned to Dale. She saw that he opened his mouth to speak, but a knock at the door stopped him.

  “Hold that thought!” Ashley rose to her feet with the agility of a cat. She hurried to the front door, thinking it was Charlotte with Muffin. When she opened it, she took a sharp intake of breath.

  “Steve, what are you doing here?”

  Steve took a step towards her. His questioning eyes searched her face. “Hello, Ashley.” He looked as if he wanted to say something else but kept his mouth closed.

  Dale came down the hallway, brushed past Ashley, and stood between them both. The two men acknowledged each other with awkward nods.

  “How are things?” Steve asked her with a nervous smile.

  Ashley ignored his question. Instead, she said casually, “Can I ask you something?”

  The smile vanished from his face. “If it’s to do with your brother’s case, I’d rather you didn’t. Colleen has forbidden us from talking to you about it.”

  “Oh she did, did she?” Ashley couldn’t keep the scorn from her voice.

  He nodded. “I’m sorry about your brother. I really am, but I am tied by protocol. You understand how it is.”

  Ashley and Dale exchanged glances.

  “What have you got there?” Dale asked, nodding towards the newspaper that Steve held in his hand. Steve offered the paper to Ashley, but Dale stopped him. “I hope you’re not going to show Ashley any crap that’s been written about her brother.”

  Steve winced. “Seriously, do you think I’m that crass?”

  “So what is it, then?” Ashley asked, placing a steadying hand on Dale’s arm.

  Steve turned his attention back to her. He handed Ashley the paper, exposing the front page. “Sorry, but I thought you should see this,” he said, and then turned and hurried down the path without glancing back at the two detectives standing in the doorway.

  Ashley looked at the paper in her hand. Blood rushed through her veins making a roaring noise in her head.

  A photo of a beautiful, young, black child smiled at her. The smile was so wide and bright that Ashley could feel a lump forming in her throat. She knew that smile, she knew that photo. It haunted her to this day. She’d never come to terms with the depth of cruelty and evil there was in the world. She knew she was being cynical, but as far as she was concerned, the good would never outweigh the bad, no matter how much the New Age “positive thinkers” spun their yarns. Evil was evil – that was the end of it. Karma never had the same kick that evil did.

  The bold headline blared, Cover-up at the Highest Level. Underneath was a news article about the Coleman case that Ashley had worked on. She held her breath as she scanned the story. Written by a well-known local reporter, Alexis Cross, it stated that the supposedly solved case of nine-year-old Nicola Coleman, who had been reported missing from a children’s home and found murdered, remained suspicious due to a cover-up by the police. New information had come to light to support these suspicions. The article didn’t name names or indicate where the officials were stationed, but the reporter implied that the person who’d been arrested for Coleman’s murder wasn’t the only one involved.

  Alexis Cross ended her story by saying she’d get to the bottom of the conspiracy and, above all, name all of those responsible. That Nicola Coleman deserved to have all those involved in her murder brought to justice, not just one man who was the scapegoat, albeit a guilty one.

  Ashley’s mind became awash with memories of the waif-like child, lying in a ditch at the side of the road, abandoned like a piece of rubbish. The little girl’s braided hair was matted and muddy. Her naked body curled into a foetal position. With an in-depth look into the past of the manager of the children’s home, Ashley had uncovered a history of sexual abuse allegations made against him that had been conveniently swept under the carpet. Alistair Blair had been convicted of Nicola Coleman’s kidnap, rape, and murder. Ashley, though, was convinced that this abuse in the home was only the tip of the iceberg but any attempts she made to investigate further were shut down by her superiors. Again.

  “Hey, what is it? You’ve gone as pale as a ghost,” Dale said.

  She handed him the paper without saying a word. Moments later, he let out a low whistle.

  “Jesus Christ, who would have thought it? A journalist actually doing some investigating. Do you think she’s going to find out anything?”

  The two went back inside the house. Ashley shut the front door and walked towards the living room, with Dale following. “Depends on how deep down the rabbit hole she goes.”

  “Maybe we should tell her what we know,” Dale said in jest.

  Ashley stopped abruptly and spun around to face him. She crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her eyes. “There’s no need. I already have. Every last detail.”

  Dale eyed her curiously. “Yeah, right. Of course you did,” he scoffed as he walked past her and back into the living room.

  “I’m serious, Dale.” The tone of her voice made him stop in his tracks and turn to look at Ashley, searching her face for a sign that she was having him on. “Have you lost your mind, Ash?”

  Ashley looked up at him and met his gaze. “No. And I haven’t lost my conscience either. I made a promise to Nicola that I’d bring those responsible for her death to justice, and I meant it.”

  Dale put his hands to his head. “Jesus, Ashley. So you’ve turned into a whistle-blower?” He shook his head in disbelief. “Do you know what will happen if this ever gets out that it was you who spoke to this...?” He hit the newspaper he was holding with the back of his hand. “This Alexis Cross woman? Do you know? Do you? Your career will be finished, finito, done, out the window.” He shook his head in resignation. “I have to ask you again – has all this stress with Tasha and your brother finally pushed you over the edge? That is the only logical reason why you would do something like this. Why you would kiss your promising career goodbye! Jesus, Ashley! What were you thinking?”

  Ashley walked to the sofa and sat on the edge of it, leani
ng forward. She spoke earnestly. “Dale, I only confirmed what the reporter already knew. Look, we knew there was something dodgy going on by the way they closed her case down so quickly. Why did her files disappear? Sorry, what was their cover story?” She rolled her eyes. “They were lost in transition. If I can’t do my job with a clear conscience there’s no point in me doing it at all, is there?”

  Dale walked over to the window, leaned his forehead against the cool glass and closed his eyes. He exhaled a deep breath. “Didn’t it cross your mind to speak to me about it first?”

  She gave a wry smile. “Of course it did but I decided against it, because I knew you’d try and talk me out of it.” She paused, then said quietly, “Dale, the image of Nicola’s savaged body left to rot like she was a piece of rubbish never leaves my mind. I have to do this for Nicola, no matter the personal cost. This isn’t about protecting my career so that I can secure a good pension; this is about justice, truth, and bringing everyone involved to book for the murder of a little girl. That’s what we do, you and I. Make the guilty pay for what they’ve done. That’s why we became detectives isn’t it? I owe it to Nicola and her family to do the best job I can, or I should hand in my resignation today.”

  She leaned back, rested her head against the sofa and closed her eyes, trying to push the image of Nicola Coleman’s corpse from her mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Warren stood transfixed, touching himself as he watched her through the slightly open bathroom door. He felt the hot surge of arousal rush through his body. Her delicate hands moved sensually across her large breasts as water sluiced over her curvy body. His breath quickened. Warren normally prided himself on his ability to keep calm and level-headed in most situations – but this was proving to be difficult. He had to blink several times to make sure he wasn’t imagining things. Man oh man! He really was staring at reality TV star Justine Lockhart. The same one he had sat and ogled from his room, daydreaming about what he’d like to give that little bit of tail and here she was, right before his eyes. Damn she was hot. His gaze fixed on her pubic hair. It was dark and bushy. This surprised him. In the women’s magazines he’d read, Brazilian waxes seemed to be the craze. Maybe Justine had never heard about it. He’d have thought that a TV star would be up on the latest trends. Well, it made no difference. The only person that was going to be seeing her pussy any time soon was the pathologist. He grinned to himself as he watched the rivulets of water stream between her legs.