Barbara was drinking alone in the bar when Dan walked in.
He’d driven to her hotel when he’d left his father, his advice still ringing in his head, that it is better to fight and lose than not fight at all. And he reckoned the answers lay with Barbara. She had been in Highford for just a couple of days and already Nick’s defence was being disrupted and Dan had been threatened. That made him suspicious.
She seemed surprised as he marched over towards her. The bar was quiet, not much demand for an executive hotel in Highford, the only other person there being a bored-looking barman replacing some spirits bottles and tidying up the shelves. There was a grand old fireplace, a painting of a winter scene over it, snow-covered hills, but it was an affectation. The heat was created by metal radiators that were throwing out too much heat.
‘Mr Grant?’
Dan sat down opposite. The barman looked over and raised his eyebrows and a glass, but Dan shook his head. He wasn’t there to socialise. He turned to Barbara. ‘I want to know what’s going on, whether there is another agenda.’
She frowned. ‘Why do you have an attitude?’
‘Because I’ve a right to be suspicious. You’ve shaken things up and I can’t work out how, because all I get is the wide-eyed Barbara, the quiet stranger in town. I wondered at first whether your real intention was purely to be disruptive, to distract us so that Nick is convicted, his defence a mess, chasing false leads. That changed today though.’
‘How so?’
‘I was threatened. Some young goon with a knife ordered me to stop looking into whatever Mark was looking into. Run Nick’s case as it always has been, that was the message.’
Barbara leaned forward, her eyes showing her excitement. ‘That’s good, isn’t it? It means that we’re right, that there is more to it. What are people scared of?’
‘That’s the wrong question,’ Dan said, bringing a scowl from Barbara. ‘The real question is how do they know? Who else you have spoken to?’
‘In Highford? Just you. You may have noticed that I don’t have any ties here. I’m just here to see that justice is done. I need to know who killed my son, Mr Grant, and why, so for God’s sake have a heart.’
‘Your son died three months ago. Whatever he was investigating, it’s long forgotten, the secrets buried. Whoever was holding that knife knew we were looking into it, but how? I haven’t spoken to anyone, and I’ve had Nick’s case for three months without any problems. That leaves you, Barbara.’
She clenched her jaw and her eyes glassed over. For a moment, Dan felt bad for upsetting her, for making it sound like her son didn’t matter.
‘Or was he a put-up job today?’ Dan continued. ‘You don’t think I’m taking you seriously, so you get someone to make it look even more suspicious. Who wouldn’t be persuaded by that?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I can’t believe you’d think that.’
‘Who else have you spoken to then? I don’t believe you’ve spent all your time here, watching the television in your room.’
Barbara swirled the drink in her glass for a few seconds before she answered. ‘Please go now, Mr Grant.’
‘Why won’t you tell me?’
She slammed the glass down on the table. ‘Because there’s nothing to tell you. Don’t you understand? Do you really think if I wanted to see Nick Connor convicted of my son’s murder, I’d do it this way? I thought you were better than that. Clearly, I was mistaken. Please go now.’
Dan wondered whether to stay and extract more from her, but the way she stared at the table and pursed her lips, he could tell that the conversation had ended.
‘As you wish,’ he said, and left the hotel.
As he pulled away from the car park, he glanced towards the hotel window. Barbara was visible inside, still at her table. She was no longer still and silent though. She was talking on her phone, her face animated, her finger jabbing at the air as she spoke.
Dan turned away. He’d been threatened and told to ignore whatever Barbara was dredging up. There was no way he was going to do that. His father was right. Don’t turn away from the fight.
But he could do it without Barbara.
Jayne shivered.
The seafront was cold and dark. During the day, it had seemed long and bright and open, the gleaming sea beyond. At night, it became more dangerous, the shelters just dark holes that housed threats, impossible to see inside. The only point of brightness was the moonbeam that trailed along a shifting black sea, illuminating the white spray as waves thumped onto the sand.
It hadn’t been Jayne’s idea to meet there. She’d called Sean, William’s father, but he’d been somewhere noisy and didn’t want to be overheard. Mel had told him to expect a call, so he knew who she was. She’d thought about refusing, but he’d said he couldn’t meet her where he’d be seen because people talked about him. He just wanted to be left alone, and he didn’t want to spark any new rumours.
She’d agreed, worried that it might be the only way, and then told herself that it was a good idea, that she’d only been there a few hours and was already making some progress.
As the night turned dark and silent, she wondered about the wisdom of her decision.
The lighthouse on the headland in the far distance swept a beam across the sea. There were some tiny lights from boats close to the horizon. She looked up and was struck by the blackness of the sky and the brightness of the stars. So many more of them than when at home, the city lights obliterating the beauty of the night sky. The Brampton skyscape seemed more unspoiled, a vast glittering display.
There was a noise. The sound of movement, feet on concrete.
She turned, expected to see him, but it was too dark to make anyone out. ‘Hello?’
No answer.
She peered harder into the shelters along the seafront, trying to see whoever was there. All she saw was an all-consuming blackness.
She looked along both ways. A long dark strip, rising to the cliffs at one end, and the shimmering lights of the arcades at the other. Her hotel was that way. People were that way.
Another noise. The sound of clothes rustling. A coat against a wall, but moving slowly, creeping up on her.
Jayne pushed herself away from the railings, her eyes straining to see someone.
‘Sean?’
No reply.
She scrambled in her pocket for her phone and took a photo, hoping to see someone in the flash. The shelters were opened out by the light, but she didn’t have time to examine the picture. She dialled Sean’s number. His phone was switched off.
It wasn’t safe. He’d invited her to trap her.
She set off walking. A slow pace at first, her hands thrust into pockets, listening out, looking round, trying to work out from where the danger would come. It was too hard to hear though, over the slap of her pumps on the tarmac and the steady crash of the sea. Her breaths came quick. She glanced back. No one there, but most of it was in darkness. Anyone following her could track her from there.
She quickened her pace, the lights from the arcades closer now, twinkling multi-colours promising slots and games and fun. A voice drifted through the night, a bingo caller.
Another noise behind her. Someone stumbling, a shout.
She ran, aiming for the streets, the lights, any place that would offer her protection.
The seafront ended with a slope and she bolted for it, sprinting onto the pavement, a pedestrianised strip in front of the arcades.
She doubled over and sucked in air, her hands shaking, sweat sticking her fringe to her forehead.
It had been a mistake to meet him there. What would she have achieved?
A man was watching her from the entrance to one of the arcades, in tight trousers and a short-sleeved shirt, keys hanging from his belt.
‘You all right, love?’ He drew on a cigarette.
‘Yes, fine, just scared myself in the dark.’
He threw his cigarette to the floor and went back inside. She shook her head and straightened, tried to take some deep breaths. From her few hours there, she’d worked out that he fitted the town, that it seemed outwardly pleasant but there was a more sinister undercurrent.
She’d had enough.
She reached for her phone again and dialled Dan. As she listened to the ringtone, she set off past the arcade, heading into the town centre to make her way back towards her hotel. The streets were quiet.
He answered on the third ring. ‘Hey, I thought you’d disappeared. How’s the seaside?’
‘Just finding my way around.’
‘And?’
‘Pretty, in its own way, but cold and derelict too.’
She glanced into a pub, wondering if a drink might make the night go better, but the seats were empty, the only person in there a barman staring outwards.
‘What have you found out?’
‘Mark was upsetting people. This true crime book of his? One of the chapters must have been about some child murderer, a guy called Rodney Walker who murdered two young children, a boy and a girl. Mark seemed to have got the idea that Rodney was innocent, which didn’t make him any friends, but if they were going to kill him because of that, they’d have done it here. Do you know how far this place is from anywhere? Miles of countryside and a whole bloody sea to dump a body in. No, they wouldn’t have gone to somewhere unfamiliar like Highford.’
‘If Mark was right, though, the real killer won’t be happy with him. Keep looking.’
‘Will do.’ A pause, and then, ‘What about you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘This evening. What have you been doing?’
‘Are you all right? You don’t normally make idle chat like this. It sounds like you’re trying to keep me on the phone.’
Jayne put the phone against her chest. She wanted to tell the truth, that the hotel was another ten minutes through town, past a taxi rank with cars standing idle and dark shopfronts, and she was scared. There weren’t any of the chains she saw in other town centres. Just local enterprises or shops selling things for a pound. Others were boarded up, as if the trading heart was slowly dying.
But Dan was too far away to help her.
‘Just on my own in a strange place. Wanted to hear a friendly voice.’
‘If you’re sure.’
‘I am. Good night,’ and she clicked off.
She sped up, unnerved by the quietness of the town, with little traffic and only the occasional gull for company. She was relieved to see her hotel, which surprised her, but in that moment, she craved the security of a locked door and a few hours to plan her next move.
As she headed down the cobbled slope towards the harbour, she laughed to herself. Her imagination had got the better of her.
The laugh choked in her throat as someone stepped in front of her. A man.
Jayne didn’t have time to scream or shout or run. He grabbed her neck and pulled her towards the wall of the hotel, her feet kicking out as she was dragged out of sight of the reception area and the nearby street. He banged her head against the brickwork and tightened his hand around her throat.
She couldn’t make him out, his face in shadow, but she could smell his booze and his anger. She tried to punch him, claw at him, but his arms were too long, so her efforts were just wild flails.
With his free hand, he slapped her. ‘Leave town.’
She winced and kicked out at him, catching him on his shin. He yelped and hit her again, harder this time, his fist clenched.
The sounds went muffled as she was pushed against the wall, lights dancing in her vision. He pressed himself against her, his knee pushing between her legs, the brickwork digging into her scalp.
‘Stop struggling and listen.’ His voice was an angry hiss.
Jayne kicked out again, but it was ineffective, so he pushed himself harder against her. Memories flooded back. Being pushed against a wall, someone between her legs. She could feel his arousal, but was that from her past or was it now?
She lashed out with her fist. It caught him on his jaw, but it wasn’t strong enough to make him lose his grip.
It enraged him.
He let go of her neck and began to rain blows on her, hard punches knocking her head back against the wall. Everything blurred. The black of his clothes. Something silver. She lifted her arms to protect herself and his knee found her ribs, knocking the air out of her.
She slid down the wall, gasping on the floor. She raised her hand in surrender, breathing hard, her ribs screaming pain, blood and sweat coating her lip. Her shirt was torn, the buttons popped, showing her bra, wet and dirty.
He didn’t say anything, so she looked up.
All that she saw was his fist travelling towards her. There was a moment of crashing pain as it thudded into the side of her face, and then it went black.