Sleep Tight (38 page)

Philippa nodded, as if this sort of obsession were normal. But of course, it just made his ramblings seem even less compelling.

‘And the key?’ she asked.

‘I would never be able to prove this, I don’t suppose. But I suspect it’s a key to Olivia’s parents’ home. If he’s as smart as I think he is, Robert would have had the locks changed when he was put in charge of selling the house. As a precaution. This is his memento.’

Philippa leaned back in her chair.

‘Wow. You think he killed her
parents
?’

‘I’m sure of it, but I’ve no evidence. At some point when he was checking out the flat – I don’t know, measuring space for his TV or something – he must have nicked her keys and had one cut. Knowing what we know about him now, he probably had the whole lot copied, just in case they ever came in handy. He would have known that without her parents, Olivia was all alone and she would only have him to rely on. It was the perfect way to make her utterly dependent on him at the worst time of her life.’

‘You seem to be saying that you believe Olivia has framed Robert Brookes. So let me get this straight. You think he killed the parents, but you
don’t
think he killed Danush Jahander.’

Tom shook his head. ‘No, not at all. I’m absolutely certain he killed Jahander.’

Philippa lifted her arms and let them fall by her sides in total bewilderment.

‘But it wasn’t last week. I think he killed Danush Jahander nine years ago.’

63

Tom had stayed with Philippa for the best part of an hour, going over everything he believed to be true, and in the end she had told him to go home. She wanted him to think very carefully about this and about his next steps. So he had called Leo. She was at home today with no lectures, and she sounded unusually welcoming.

‘You sound depressed, Tom. Come here to my apartment. I’ll make you my version of a late lunch, and we can talk or just listen to music, or you can sleep if you like.’

That sounded like bliss to Tom. Leo was the most soothing company he could imagine, and within half an hour he was ringing her doorbell.

To begin with, he said nothing about the case, other than to tell Leo what a magical place he thought Alderney was. He found himself saying they would have to go there some time, and Leo agreed. He couldn’t think about what that might mean just now.

They ate lunch, which meant Leo had been to the deli on the corner and bought some delicious cheese, crusty bread and red onion marmalade. It seemed perfect with a glass of wine, and Tom felt himself begin to unwind.

‘Have you thought any more about the cottage?’ Leo asked. He knew she meant the break-in, but this was a gentler way of reminding him.

‘Steve’s taken all the files into storage for me so the papers are safe. But you know what? I’m going to look through them all when I next get a few days off. I’m going to find out what on earth is so interesting about my brother’s documents. Because there’s something, I’m sure of that.’

‘If you need any help, you only have to ask.’ Leo said, standing up from the kitchen stool and heading towards the coffee machine. She pointed to it and raised her eyebrows.

‘Yes please, that would be perfect.’

‘Well, you go and relax, and I’ll bring you some coffee as soon as it’s ready,’ she said, making shooing gestures with her hands.

Tom sat on the sofa and leaned against the soft cushions, his head back, gazing blindly at the ceiling. He felt, rather than saw, Leo place a mug of coffee on the small table next to him, and she knelt between his legs resting her hands on his knees.

‘Tell me,’ was all she said.

And so he did. Without taking his eyes off the same point on the ceiling where a thick beam was supporting the roof, he told her everything he knew, and everything he suspected.

‘So if you’re right, who was the man that visited Sophie Duncan?’

‘We’ve shown Mrs Evans a photo of Dan, but it’s nine years old. She wasn’t able to confirm or deny it. We were obviously supposed to believe it was him, though – we had to have as much evidence as possible that he was alive and kicking ten days or so ago.’

‘Can you prove any of this?’ she asked. At that he shifted his gaze to look at Leo and after a brief pause shook his head.

‘I don’t think so. If I’m right about how they did this, we would need enough of the blood found at the scene to test for citrates.’

‘What would that prove?’

‘If, as I suspect, nobody really did die in that room, the blood must have come from a living person. To take so much blood and not kill somebody it would have to be done a pint or two at a time over a period of days or even weeks – and the blood would have to be stored ready for being sprayed on the wall. They’d need to add a chemical to stop the blood from coagulating. Some form of citrate. I looked it up last night to be sure, but it’s not part of a routine forensic test.’

‘So what’s the problem?’

‘Jumbo told me they found microscopic amounts of blood. Enough for DNA, but not enough to test for citrates.’

‘And what does Philippa say?’

‘She said emphatically that she doesn’t want any further investigation. We have what appears to be a cast-iron case against Robert, and I have absolutely no evidence at all that he’s been set up. If I can prove it, she’ll look again but gut instinct alone isn’t enough. And of course, if I’m convinced Robert Brookes killed three people nine years ago but I can’t prove it, we should go with what we’ve got. I can’t prove a thing about either then
or
now. What I do know is that he swore he didn’t know Olivia at university, but he was lying. And when we told him that the person visiting his wife in Anglesey – when we still believed it
was
his wife – was Jahander, he actually thought it was funny, which you might expect if he knew the guy was dead.’

‘So Philippa wants you to leave it, and you don’t agree.’ It was a statement, not a question.

Tom closed his eyes. He didn’t want to say this, but he had to.

‘Do you remember last year I told you there was one secret that I would keep from you – and from anybody – for the rest of my life?’

He knew she wouldn’t have forgotten, and he had always wondered if this was the last remaining hurdle that they couldn’t overcome. He didn’t need to wait for her answer.

‘The truth is, I let a murderer go free. I acted as judge and jury, and my conscience has plagued me ever since. I still think I was right. But it’s not my job to make those decisions. It’s why we have a justice system – and a bloody good one at that. Sometimes, occasionally, you know that the outcome of playing it by the book won’t be morally right. That’s Philippa’s view in this case. But I’m not sure I can do it again and live with it.’

Leo grabbed his hands, and pulled one towards her cheek. She kissed the palm gently.

‘Then let Philippa be the one to make the decision. If this man goes free, will he kill those children?’

Tom leaned back again, and he felt his eyes sting.

‘Probably.’

‘So you’re locking him up for life for a crime he did commit, only not in the way your evidence suggests. That
can’t
be wrong, Tom. But let this one be on Philippa’s conscience. Not on yours.’

He said nothing and stared back up at the beam.

They were both silent for a moment. Tom felt her move closer, her soft breast brushing against the inside of his leg. He almost groaned. He could hear her breathing, shallow and fast, and he could smell the subtle spice of her perfume. So close.

‘I think what I love most about you, Tom,’ she said, her voice low and hesitant, ‘is how honest you are. You never let anybody down. You’re the first man I’ve ever felt I could truly trust.’

Tom held his breath.
If only she meant it
. Despite all his efforts to control his feelings, he knew without a doubt he was in love with this woman. He lowered his head, and looked at her beautiful, wary eyes. She met his gaze and he felt as if nothing else existed in the world.

He felt Leo’s hands move. They slid up his thighs and she leaned towards his chest.

‘Stay with me tonight,’ she said softly.

Tom reached out a hand and stroked her hair. ‘And tomorrow?’

She turned her face and kissed his hand where it lay against her hair.

‘And tomorrow,’ she smiled, ‘and maybe even the day after.’

64

November

The car is bumping along the narrow track, and I’m trying my best to avoid the largest of the boulders and the holes in the road. At last I’ve got a decent car instead of that stupid Beetle that Robert bought me. Pretty as it was, it had to be the most impractical car possible for a woman with three young children. I can still remember my horror when Robert turned up with it. Fortunately, he translated my open mouth as awe and delight.

‘Fuck, Liv, can you just be a bit more careful. You’ll have me back in bloody hospital if you jerk me around much more.’

I laugh out loud. It is so wonderful to be with my friend. Unfortunately Sophie has been forced to have another round of operations on her leg as Robert’s attack did more damage than the doctors had originally thought. But she said she wouldn’t miss today for anything. She knows how much I need her.

We have reached the end of the track, and it’s time to get out and face the early November weather. A thin drizzle hangs in the air, as if suspended. I shiver, but there is something magnificent about the bleakness of Saddleworth Moor. Standing here, it’s hard to believe we are so close to Manchester. The only signs of life are the sheep and a scattering of stone farmhouses in the distance, nestling in their protective hollows. The hills are treeless at this height, but the ground is covered with a blanket of grass interspersed with patches of bare peat, forming a carpet of green and brown mixed with the faded purple of spent heather.

‘How far do we have to walk?’ Sophie asks me, grabbing her walking stick from the back seat.

‘Not far,’ I reply, hoping I have remembered correctly. I don’t want any more damage to Sophie on my conscience.

‘Are you sure it’s the right place?’ she asks.

To be honest, I’m not. But it will be close enough.

We start walking away from the track and on to the moorland, clambering over a wooden stile.

‘Do you think he’ll come?’ I ask Sophie. I’m nervous about seeing him, but it’s right to have him here.

‘He said he would, and he’s never let you down before, has he?’ Sophie plonks herself down on the spongy surface, clearly oblivious to the damp that must be penetrating her jeans. ‘Do you want me to leave you on your own for a bit?’ she asks.

But I don’t want to be alone. I just want to wait to see if he comes.

We’re quiet while we wait, perhaps both listening to the silence. Finally we hear the distant sound of tyres crunching over stones on the rough track. A pheasant is noisily disturbed from the undergrowth and its loud raspy cackle makes me jump.

The car pulls up behind mine, and a man gets out, slamming the car door behind him. I gasp. He has grown his hair to just below his collar, where it curls in the damp air. Just for a moment, I believe the impossible.

Sophie is struggling to her feet. ‘You found us then,’ she calls.

He nods, but it’s me he’s looking at, examining my face, checking if I seem okay.

‘How’ve you been, Liv? It’s months since I’ve seen you. Come here.’ He opens his arms, and I don’t need asking twice. My throat is tight, and I can barely speak.

‘Thanks for coming, Samir.’ My voice breaks on the name. I so nearly called him Dan. But I owe this man so much – almost as much as I owe Sophie.

‘I don’t know what to say to you both, how to thank you for everything you’ve done.’

‘He was my brother, Liv. What else did you expect?’ Samir says. The pain is still raw for him, of course, even after all these years.

‘And you’re my best friend,’ Sophie chips in. ‘We couldn’t have let you do it on your own. I nearly blew it when I let that stupid woman take my photograph, though.’

‘But you didn’t. And in a way, Robert’s reaction to that photo made it all so much more plausible. It was very dangerous for both of you,’ I say, knowing this to be true. ‘What if…’

‘Shh,’ Samir says, raising his finger to my lips. ‘It’s been five months since Robert was arrested. He’s been convicted of murder, and nobody’s come chasing me for a DNA sample. They’re not going to now, so stop worrying.’

I pull slightly away from Samir and nod. I don’t know if it will ever be safe, but my children have to be protected for life.

‘Shall we go?’ I say. ‘I don’t think it’s much further.’

We start to walk, eager to get there, but at the same time this final acknowledgement of death is hard to bear.

‘Why do you think this is where he buried him?’ Samir asks.

That’s hard for me to explain, but I try my best.

‘Robert didn’t have much of an imagination, and he was always fascinated by the Moors Murders, particularly the fact that the body of the last victim – Keith Bennett – has never been found. He brought me here about seven years ago when I was pregnant with Billy. He said a walk would do us good. We stopped just a bit further on from here – and I sat on a stone because I was tired. Robert started to talk about the Moors murders.’

I don’t know if I can go on with this story, knowing what I know now. But Samir needs to understand what happened to his brother, and I can’t shy away from the truth.

‘I can remember one sentence, word for word: “I wonder how many other bodies are buried up here – you could be standing on top of one right this minute.” It seemed a gruesome thing to say, but he was smiling.’

I look from Samir to Sophie, knowing that they have begun to understand Robert’s warped mind.

Without a word, I hold out both my hands. Samir takes one, Sophie the other. Each in turn gives my hand a small squeeze of encouragement.

‘When did you realise that he’d killed Dan and your parents?’ Samir asks. ‘When did you figure it out?’

I look at Sophie and give her a hint of a smile. It had all started to come together when I met her again – nearly two years ago now. As soon as she told me that Robert was Creepy Guy, everything had fallen into place.