The Silent Twin (17 page)

T
he rain dictated
their meeting place, and as she crouched behind the thicket, Jennifer accepted getting soaked in exchange for some much needed information. Her stake-out the night before had been disappointing, but her snooping during an early visit to Blackwater farm had revealed a secret meeting, away from prying eyes. Or so Nick and Karen had thought.

Jennifer shuddered as the rain trickled down her collar onto the back of her neck. At least she had had the foresight to wear her jeans, trainers and puffa jacket, rather than her usual suit and high heels. She only hoped that Nick wouldn’t see her, crouched like an idiot behind a shelter in the children’s playground.

Karen arrived just seconds after Nick, and Jennifer peeped out from behind the shelter, to spy on the clandestine meeting.

They hugged tightly as they met on the path, breaking to enter the shelter together.

‘We shouldn’t be meeting like this,’ Nick said. ‘If anyone sees us . . .’

‘If anyone sees us, we’re just two colleagues who bumped into each other. And besides, who’d be crazy enough to come out in this rain? Now, how are you doing? You look like shit,’ Karen said.

‘What do you expect?’ Nick replied, flatly.

Jennifer held her breath as the conversation came through loud and clear. She didn’t need to be able to see them, to know that Nick and Karen had a close bond.

‘Sorry, I’m only trying to . . .’ Karen said.

‘No. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped,’ Nick replied. ‘You’re only trying to help. I’m still getting over being interviewed by the police. It was weird, being on the other side of that table.’

‘I know. You’ve got to expect that. How’s the wicked witch of the west?’ Karen said.

‘You know I don’t like it when you call her that,’ Nick said, grimly.

‘Sorry. How’s Joanna? Still as mad as ever?’

‘Karen . . .’

‘What? It’s the truth, isn’t it?’ she said petulantly.

Nick sighed. ‘I don’t know how much longer I can keep up the pretence.’

‘Then don’t. You don’t owe her anything. All you have to do is leave.’

‘I can’t leave, not with all this going on. What would people think?’

‘Anyone that knows her will understand why. How you’ve stayed with her this long, I don’t know.’ Karen’s words seemed cold and well-worn. Nick’s lack of response brought forth another question, but this time her voice was unsure. ‘You don’t . . . you don’t still love her, do you?’

‘God, Karen, you’re so naive. It’s not that simple. Life isn’t one of those chick flits, you know.’

Karen chuckled. ‘Chick lit. If you’re gonna disrespect my reading material, then at least get it right.’ Silence fell between them as the rain pattered on the roof of the shelter. ‘It’s not doing Olivia any good, you know, watching you argue all the time.’

‘Argue? Joanna barely raises an eyebrow. It’s as if Abigail never existed.’

‘Then leave. Just pack your bags and walk out the door.’

‘What will people think? What about my job?’

‘It’s the twentieth century, Nick. You’re not the first person to have an affair.’

Jennifer’s thoughts raced as she tried to comprehend the revelation. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but hearing the words aloud seemed wrong. She pulled out her notebook and shifted her feet to evade the pins and needles gathering in her legs.

‘It’s not just the affair, though, is it?’ Nick said, his voice uneasy. ‘What if people find out . . .’

‘They won’t, not unless you tell them. God! I hate to see this turn you into something you’re not. Leave now before she bleeds you dry, or you’ll end up a zombie just like her.’

‘I know you’re right, but I’m scared. Scared of the consequences when it all comes out.’

‘Then just say you’re taking a break. What’s done is done. It doesn’t make any difference now. Life is short, you owe it to yourself to be happy.’

Nick sighed. ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be happy again.’

‘You will. It won’t always be like this. One day you’ll look back and you’ll be free. I promise you.’

‘Thank you. I don’t know how I would have got through this without you.’

‘You can thank me by leaving your wife. You deserve to be happy. Sod the lot of them.’

‘And Olivia? What’s she going to think of me?’

‘She hasn’t said anything, has she?’ Karen said, an edge of concern in her voice.

‘No, but . . .’

‘Then it’s OK. Honestly, you’re going to worry yourself into an early grave. Stay strong, otherwise you won’t survive it. You’ll always have me, remember?’

Jennifer edged away. She had heard enough by now, and needed to get off before they discovered her presence. She also needed time to process what she had just heard. Were Nick and Karen carrying a bigger secret than their affair? She remembered something Will had told her. Clues are like a jigsaw. Solve the easy pieces first, get your edges in order. The difficult middle pieces will slot together eventually, and bring you to the very centre of the crime. So the obvious clues were that Nick was having an affair, and Karen couldn’t wait for him to leave his wife. The wicked witch of the west . . . she’d heard that somewhere before. Shaking the droplets of rain from her hands, she slipped out her phone and logged on to Twitter.

J
ennifer cursed
under her breath as she looked at her watch. Ten past nine. DCI Anderson was a stickler for time and wouldn’t approve of her late arrival. But it wasn’t without reason, and there was no way she could go to work looking like something that had been pulled out of the river Blakewater.

She knocked on his office door and murmured an apology for being late.

‘You missed briefing again,’ he said. ‘I’ll fill you in, but as an integral part of the investigation you should have been there.’

‘I’m sorry, boss, but I took the initiative and it paid off. I’ve got some information that may be of use to you.’

But as Jennifer filled her superior in on Nick’s possible affair, she got the distinct feeling it was low down on his list of priorities. She pulled down the hem of her black shift dress and crossed her legs.

‘. . . and it was something that Karen said. I’ve got a feeling I’ve heard it on Twitter. There’s hundreds, maybe thousands of posts under that hashtag, so I need some time to look through them all. I’ve got the feeling she could be our troll, or at least one of them.’

‘Hmmm,’ the DCI said, taking a sip of his coffee. ‘Hang fire on that for now. Nick may well be having an affair, but it doesn’t make him our suspect. Keep doing what you’re doing, monitor the situation, and report back to me. I don’t want to jeopardise our relationship with the family. The last thing we need is them withdrawing their support.’

‘But, sir . . .’

‘Trust me,’ the DCI said, ‘and don’t go stirring things up just yet. We’ve got another suspect we’re interested in, someone close to the family.’

F
iona opened the door
, greeting Jennifer in hushed tones and signalling for her to come in. The hall flickered with light from candles of every shape and size, and chanting . . . no – Jennifer listened intently . . . praying filtered through from the living room.

‘It’s Bob and Wendy,’ Fiona whispered. ‘They’re having mass.’

Jennifer followed her through to the kitchen, dropping her coat and bag onto the table for her second visit of the day, as Fiona poured her a tea. The portable radio played soft music next to the stove, and Jennifer took a seat.

‘They just turned up with Father Murphy and some of their church friends,’ Fiona said, wearing a weak smile. ‘They got wind of the séance and came straight around, dragging that poor priest after them. There’s no stopping them. Nick and Joanna’re in there now.’

Jennifer nodded. The term ‘a force to be reckoned with’ had been invented for Nick’s parents. ‘And Olivia?’

‘She’s gone to school. The teachers recommended she try to get back into some routine. Perhaps they’ll be able to help her come out of herself, to speak a bit more. I only hope it’s not too upsetting for her.’

‘I’m surprised Bob and Wendy didn’t insist you attend mass as well.’

Fiona gave a sideways grin. ‘I told them I had to answer the door, take calls, attend to visitors, and if the school rang . . . Well, I’ve been on tenterhooks, hoping she’s getting on okay.’

Jennifer welcomed the cup of tea, and took it in both hands. ‘You really care for this family, don’t you?’

‘I’ve come to, yes. Goes with the territory, I suppose,’ Fiona said, taking a butter knife from the drawer. ‘Can I make you anything? I’ve been so busy looking after everyone else this morning, I’ve not had a chance to eat.’

‘No, thanks, I’m fine. You work away.’

‘One thing about Joanna,’ Fiona said, pulling out wafer-sliced ham and a tray of butter from the fridge, ‘she always insists on having plenty of food in the house. Eats like a bird herself, mind.’

Jennifer watched as Fiona skimmed a layer of butter across a thick wedge of bread. ‘How did you meet?’

‘I was in between jobs when I saw the ad online. I have a diploma in complementary therapy, but there’s not much call for that around Haven. I worked as a nanny in Canada for a few years, so I thought I’d fall back on that until something turned up. It’s worked out well so far.’ The smile fell from Fiona’s face. ‘Until now.’

Jennifer took a sip of tea. ‘A nanny, eh? Would you say Joanna’s maternal?’

‘She’s not everyone’s idea of maternal, but she loves her girls. I don’t think she’s capable of hurting anyone,’ Fiona said, bringing her tea and sandwich to the table.

Jennifer nodded her understanding. ‘I never said she was. I’m just trying to understand her. That way I can answer any awkward questions in briefing, like why she appeared on TV with a smile on her face after Abigail went missing.’

Fiona plopped heavily into her chair, as if her legs had decided they couldn’t take her weight any more.

‘How can I explain without sounding disloyal? Joanna . . . she doesn’t handle stress well. When things get tough, she closes herself off to it.’ Fiona rubbed her mouth, as if the words were distasteful. ‘She handles things her own way. She likes working for herself, because she can focus on her business twenty-four hours a day if she wants.’

‘And we’ve effectively taken away her business, so . . .’

‘She’s had to come to terms with what’s happening, with no safety net to fall back on when things get tough. She’s a good person, they both are, but this has hit them very hard.’

‘But don’t you mind, feeding everyone and caring for the children while she’s sitting at the kitchen table? Doesn’t it bother you?’

‘Not at all. Joanna pays me well and I enjoy it. Being at the heart of the family is lovely, to feel needed . . . I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.’

‘Has she always been so troubled?’

Fiona glanced around the empty room. ‘This isn’t an official line of questioning, is it?’

‘God, no, I’m just interested,’ Jennifer replied.

‘Joanna told me once that she had a troubled childhood. It wasn’t until she met Nick that things began to improve. He was her knight in shining armour. Marrying Nick turned her life around.’

‘You said earlier that Joanna wouldn’t hurt anyone . . .’

Fiona chewed her sandwich and muffled an ‘uh huh’.

A mellow tune played on in the background, and Jennifer was grateful for the meditative effect. It softened the question she had been waiting to ask, and she waited for Fiona to finish her food. ‘How did Joanna get the scars on her arms? Self-harm?’

Fiona nodded slowly, as if an unspoken secret had been exposed. ‘So you’ve seen them . . . It’s something a lot of teenagers go through, isn’t it? Teenage angst? I can’t say I could go through with it myself . . .’ Her voice trailed away.

Jennifer wasn’t surprised to have her thoughts confirmed. She had only glimpsed one faint scar on Joanna’s wrist, but had a feeling there would be many more. Another piece of the puzzle locked into place, and suddenly everything made a little more sense.

‘It’s part of the reason you’re here, though, isn’t it?’ she said to Fiona. ‘It’s not just the children you’re babysitting, it’s Joanna.’

Fiona’s lips turned upwards in a smile. ‘There’s not much that gets past you, is there, DC Knight?’

‘Please, call me Jennifer. And to be honest, it didn’t take a lot of figuring out.’

‘I suppose not,’ Fiona said. ‘She sometimes has mood swings, and she’s prone to paranoia. Nick imposed the house rules for her own good. She uses her en suite toilet, and the cabinets are clean. There’s no lock on the door, so she can’t be tempted to hurt herself.’

‘And what about the main bathroom?’ Jennifer asked, although she had already figured out the answer.

‘It’s out of bounds. Nick keeps his razors there, and there’s always a concern she could lock herself in and get tempted to use them. It’s not a prison here – if she really wanted to harm herself, she could – but she wants help. And it’s all worked well, up until now. She has little tics, signals when she’s getting stressed.’

Jennifer took a sip of her tea, which had now gone cold. ‘Have you ever tried to draw the truth out of her?’

‘She doesn’t like talking about her feelings, and I don’t like to stir things up.’

‘I’d say things are already stirred up,’ Jennifer said. ‘Could you try to find out what’s bothering her? It may give us the answers we’re looking for.’

‘I don’t know. I’m her employee. It seems disloyal to spy.’

‘I’m not asking you to incriminate her, Fiona, I just want to make sure we’ve explored every avenue.’

‘In that case, there might be a way . . .’ Fiona said, looking thoughtfully at Jennifer. ‘Sometimes we meditate together. It helps her de-stress, and stops me becoming de-skilled. Perhaps if I could get her to relax enough, she might open up. See what’s blocking her psyche.’

‘It’s worth a try.’

Footsteps echoed in the hall, and Fiona rose, empty plate in hand.

‘Heaven help me, I’ll do it. I don’t want to cause trouble, but if it helps you find Abigail, then it’s worth a shot.’

Jennifer smiled her thanks. The DCI had advised her to lay low, so he didn’t need to know about this latest line of enquiry. His focus was elsewhere, although he wouldn’t tell her with whom. Her latest adventure down the well had cast her in a bad light, and his earlier promise of full disclosure had now been withdrawn. All in good time, Jennifer thought, knowing that if an arrest were imminent she would find out soon enough. In the meantime, she would pick through the family secrets slowly unravelling before her. The door opened, and Jennifer cast her face in a neutral expression, disguising her knowledge of Nick’s affair.