45

The detective is standing in his living room, holding a piece of paper – a search warrant – while uniformed police officers go from room to room, rifling through the cupboards.

They’ve already searched the front room, scattering Jackie’s teddies over the floor. She’s managed to save four of them that are clutched to her chest.

He knew something was wrong as soon as he walked into the house. Jackie’s face and scalp were unusually flushed, like she’d caught the sun, but she couldn’t have gone out unless that awful Arjun had turned up on their doorstep, trying to worm his way back into Jackie’s affections. No, something had happened.

He hates secrets more than uncertainty and, eventually, he managed to coax it out of her. He knew instantly it was the CSI and that she’s on to him. He doesn’t know how, but she is. She also doesn’t have enough evidence to do anything about it and that’s why she came to the house.

The thought of her rummaging around in his belongings made him boil up inside, but he needed to keep calm. He wanted to shout at Jackie for being so stupid to let her in, but he couldn’t bear the thought of all that blubbing and, anyway, something was niggling at him.

He was sure she’d found what she was looking for, but if she had why hadn’t she taken it straight to the police station? Then he understood. She had lied her way into the house. Anything she found would be inadmissible in court so she went bleating to the detective instead, but it was too late. When the idiot detective turned up with a search team, he was ready for them.

A police officer enters the living room and whispers something in the detective’s ear.

‘Are you sure?’ the detective says out loud.

‘Absolutely. We’ve turned the place inside out.’

The detective nods, but his face is hard with fury.

‘We’ve finished our search, Mr Pascoe, thank you to you and your wife for your cooperation. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.’

He throws the detective a look of innocence.

‘Is this to do with the lady who came here earlier today?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Yes, it was the mother of the girl who was attacked in Three Brethren Woods. She’s a CSI, I think. She came here pretending to be someone from my work who is nominating me for an award.’

The colour drains from the detective’s face.

‘When was this?’

‘About three this afternoon. I wouldn’t have thought too much of it until you turned up with a search warrant. I’m guessing she called you saying she’d found something that connected me to her daughter’s attack.’

Mention it before he does. The detective says nothing.

‘I’m sorry, Mr Pascoe, I had no idea she’d been here.’

The detective is lying.

‘It’s fine. It’s not that unusual for a relative to fixate on the person who saved their loved one’s life.’

The detective frowns at him.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I’ve seen her watching me at the hospital a couple of times and I think, although I can’t be completely sure, she’s driven past my house several times too.’

‘Is that so? Do you want to file a complaint for harassment?’

‘No, not at all. I feel sorry for her. It’s a terrible ordeal to go through.’

‘That’s still no excuse.’

‘She’s got it into her head I’ve got something to do with what’s happened to her daughter.’

‘Which is completely unacceptable.’

‘Like I said, you’d be surprised how often it happens. We get accused of all sorts, Detective.’

The detective can barely contain his fury.

‘Well, I can assure you she won’t be bothering you again.’

* * *

There are messages on my phone from an irate Penny demanding to know where I am and when I’ll be back, but I can’t face her empty-handed. I need to know Pascoe has been arrested before I face her so when I reach Heale Cross I don’t take the road to Barnston but turn towards Morte Sands.

I take my place among the tourists in their Hawaiian swimming shorts and bikinis that just look like strategically placed bandages and queue for one of Liam’s coffees. Once at the front, he smiles warmly and tells me how good it is to see me, but with people waiting behind me I don’t linger. But it’s good to see him too.

I sit down at one of the small round tables Liam provides for those who want a brief break from beach antics and back-ache-inducing deck chairs.

I close my eyes, drawing a lungful of salty air that carries notes of coffee, but as I let go of my breath, hoping it will take with it a modicum of the stress of the previous hours and days, my eyes spring open and lock onto the live cam mounted on a tall post on the slipway to the sands and I think of Jackie, the silent voyeur. I shudder at the thought she has watched me on this beach with Megan. Is she watching me now? Is Simon watching with her?

I check my watch. No. Holt should be there by now with a search team. They’ll struggle to keep a straight face at the sight of all those teddy bears – that’ll do the rounds of the station for weeks, but the triangle of television screens tuned into the live cams dotted around North Devon’s beaches will unnerve even the long-timers.

‘How’s Megan?’

Liam joins me with a coffee.

‘She’s doing OK. She’s no longer in an induced coma so we’re just waiting for her to wake up. The doctors are hopeful she’ll come around soon. I fancied a bit of a break and some sea air, but I’ll be heading back in a bit. Thank you for the text by the way.’

‘When she’s awake, I’d love to drop in and say hello if she’s feeling up to it.’

‘She’d like that.’

I want to tell him that I’d like it, too, but I don’t. Some warped defence mechanism, I guess, that says admitting feelings just leads to a trail of regret.

‘I heard they got the guy.’

‘Shame it isn’t the right one,’ I say without thinking.

‘What?’

I shake my head, not wanting to take Liam into my confidence. He might take it to mean I have other confidences I’m willing to share.

‘Long story.’

He shrugs.

‘Well, I’m not going anywhere.’

‘It’s OK. It’s all sorted now.’

‘Sorry. Now you’ve lost me.’

‘Let’s just say DI Holt needed a little nudge in the right direction.’

‘Well, I’m still none the wiser, but the main thing is they get the right guy.’

‘Yes, but I do have a question for you, though.’

He brightens at the prospect of being useful.

‘Another one?’ He smiles. ‘Fire away.’

‘I was trying to find a bit of background on someone, but I could only find information on them going back three or so years and then nothing. A complete dead end. They seemed to vanish into thin air. Any thoughts as to why? I wondered if they’d been abroad.’

As soon as Pascoe’s name had sidled into my mind at Three Brethren Woods, I had wanted to know more about him, but a deep trawl of the internet yielded nothing before he took up his job as paramedic, nothing at all.

‘Maybe. Or the name they’re using now isn’t their real name. It’s not that difficult to change your name by deed poll.’

‘But what about applying for jobs and that?’

‘You would just apply under your new name.’

‘What about your national insurance number?’

‘That doesn’t change, but when you change your name, you just tell the tax office and they update their records with your new name.’

‘So how would I go about finding the person’s original name?’

‘That depends. If they registered it, then there would be a public record of it at the Royal Courts of Justice. You’d have to contact the court and ask for it.’

‘What if they haven’t enrolled it?’

‘Then you’ve got no easy way of finding out.’

A customer trudges up the slipway, loose sand fanning from his steps, eyeing the coffee shack. Liam drains his coffee and lobs the cup into a bin. ‘I better get back to it. Good to see you, Ally. And if you have any more questions, let me know.’

‘Thanks.’

The tourist is leaning over the counter searching for someone to serve him. He strolls back towards the van but pauses at the steps up to the side door and turns back to me.

‘And I’m here if you need me for anything else.’

‘I know. Thank you.’

He appears back behind the counter, delivers the tourist a hundred-watt smile and asks what he can get him. I return to my coffee. So Simon Pascoe isn’t his real name. No surprises there. I think I can guess why he might have changed it, so who was he before? But it isn’t down to me any more. Pascoe is likely already cuffed and in the back of a police car. When Holt calls, I’ll let him know. He can take over. I’ve done my bit. I need to get back to Megan.

As if on cue, my phone goes off. It’s Holt. At last. Pascoe is going down and this ends now. Relief rushes through me before Holt even has a chance to speak, so much so, that when he does, it takes me a few moments to make sense of what he is saying.

‘You’ve really fucked up this time. I’m sorry, Ally, but I’m done protecting you. You’re on your own.’

* * *

It’s late evening when he pulls up in the deserted industrial estate behind the Strudwicks’ house. He parks at the end of a cul-de-sac of dull green units, built in the hope businesses would appear and snap them up. They didn’t.

His special phone beeps and vibrates a dozen times as soon as he turns it on. Someone’s keen to reach him: TruffleDelite. The thought of her impatiently firing off messages at him and then becoming increasingly anxious waiting for a response leaves him glowing with satisfaction.

He’s glad he hasn’t been able to check them until now. She’s got herself into a right state which makes it a whole lot easier.

Swiping his screen, most of her messages are complaints about her parents who are ‘total bastards’ because they’ve banned her from seeing that boy, but they won’t tell her why. Life’s so unfair and now she wishes her parents were dead because she’s so sick of how they keep trying to control her life.

He says a silent thank you to her father. He’s guessing he didn’t hold back and he doesn’t blame him. What dad would want their daughter hanging around with the son of a paedo?

Ruggerboy666: They’ll come round.

TruffleDelite: No, they won’t. I’m not allowed ANY contact with Luke.

Ruggerboy666: That’s rank. Got the impression you guys are really into each other too.

TruffleDelite: Yeah, we are, but I’m not giving up that easily.

Ruggerboy666: U still seeing each other then?

TruffleDelite: Nah. Can’t risk it. Don’t want to even message him. Parents threatened to send me to my aunt’s up north, if I have anything to do with him.

Ruggerboy666: Seriously. They’re mad. What you gonna do?

TruffleDelite: Dunno. If I can’t see Luke, I’ll die.

Ruggerboy666: I get it. What if I said I know Luke. He’s the really tall lad with long black hair, right?

TruffleDelite: Yeah, that’s him. How come you know him? Are you his mate, Tim?

Ruggerboy666: No, bit insulted you should think I’m that spanner!!!

TruffleDelite: Soz. I know. He’s a right idiot. Btw, thanks for listening to me. Can’t talk to anyone else. Luke was going out with my best mate, Shana, before we got together. He cheated on her to get with me. She’d kill me if she found out.

Ruggerboy666: Don’t worry. Ur secret’s safe with me. I got my own troubles.

TruffleDelite: Oh yeah. How’s that going?

Ruggerboy666: Good, been a bit tough, but we had a long chat last night. We’ve decided to stay together.

TruffleDelite: So you don’t have a secret crush on me any more?

Ruggerboy666: Lol. No. Soz. Think it was because of all the stuff we were going through. We’re still mates though?

TruffleDelite: ’Course.

Ruggerboy666: You serious about this guy?

TruffleDelite: Yeah.

Ruggerboy666: OK. I’ll talk to him for you. See if we can get you lovebirds together without the parents knowing.

TruffleDelite: You’d do that for me? I’m desperate to see him.

Ruggerboy666: Sure. That’s what mates are for. Will message you.

TruffleDelite: Thx. You’re the best.

Ruggerboy666: I know.