The Silent Twin (8 page)

He nodded his thanks, brightening only when Olivia bounced over to the sofa, her eyes bright with a sparkle that had been absent far too long. His eyebrows shot up as she giggled, and Jennifer warmed to the sound. It was a beautiful song after what felt like a lifetime of silence.

‘I hear we’re bringing home a pony,’ Nick said, washing down the remnants of his sandwich with a mouthful of tea from a fat blue mug. Olivia nodded fitfully, dancing on her toes, barely able to contain her excitement.

‘Be a good girl and we’ll soon have him here,’ Joanna said, leaving Olivia with her father.

Jennifer turned to follow the women back out to the kitchen, feeling like an intruder.

Olivia planted a kiss on her father’s stubbled cheek. Almost as an afterthought, she leaned forward, her whisper just within Jennifer’s earshot. ‘I’ll be a good girl, Daddy. I promise I won’t tell.’

‘
A
re
you sure that’s okay?’ Will said, refilling Jennifer’s glass as she ate the reheated food. ‘I can make you something else if you like.’

Jennifer wound the pasta around her fork. ‘It’s delicious. I’m just sorry I’m late, especially after you went to all this trouble.’

‘Don’t be daft,’ Will said, smiling. ‘A spag bol and a bottle of plonk is hardly going to trouble.’

It was a novelty to be met with such understanding. But then Will was the first police officer she had dated. Well, apart from Ethan. But a quick fumble at the Christmas party was hardly what you would call dating. Being in a relationship with Will was the best thing that had ever happened to her. While past boyfriends complained about her inability to finish work on time, Will accepted it with calm understanding. She knocked back her wine, her eyes drawn to the defined chest muscles under his sweater. Her day had been stressful to say the least, with no real leads. It was heading towards a murder inquiry at breakneck speed. All they needed was a body . . .

A myriad of thoughts demanded her attention, and she silenced them without guilt. She needed this. She craved intimacy with Will, absorbing his affection instead of the anger, frustration and fear which had encompassed her over the last few days. Just a little while, she promised herself, then she would think about work.

But peace did not come quickly. Will’s phone constantly buzzed with texts from Zoe. There was a rumour that more people would be joining the team, and Jennifer was beginning to feel more like an outsider with each day that passed. Will turned off his phone and settled back into the sofa.

‘Sorry,’ he said, with an apologetic grin. ‘I think she’s a bit lonely. She was asking if we could go out for a drink tonight.’

Jennifer stifled a yawn. ‘I’m too tired. How’s it been, working with her?’

‘I couldn’t possibly say. We’re frontline detectives on Op Moonlight, you know, and seeing as how you’re just a lowly FLO . . .’

Jennifer moved in close and blew in his ear as she snaked her hand against the ridge of his trousers. His stomach tightened as her fingers found his skin, and she teased him by running her nail inside the waistband of his boxer shorts. ‘Oh, but I have ways of making you talk,’ she said huskily.

Will groaned, wrapping his hands around her waist as she sat astride him. ‘In that case, I’m ready for my interrogation.’

I
ntimacy followed
by a hot bath was all she needed to feel human again. Satiated, she lay back in Will’s arms, allowing thoughts of work to return.

‘So how are you getting on with the case?’ he said, kissing the side of her head as she lay back on his chest. Her hair was damp as from the water, and he tucked a strand behind her ear. Steam rose around them, and the gentle flicker of candlelight reflected against the bathroom window.

‘We don’t have to talk work,’ Jennifer whispered as she dipped her chin into the water, trying to push back the nagging questions demanding an audience.

‘I’m interested. A different perspective might help.’

Jennifer sighed. There was no getting away from it. She was doubtful other boyfriends would be as accommodating, although she would never have been able to speak to them about cases anyway. Keeping it to herself had made it all the harder. Not that they had understood any of that. She filled Will in on the case to date, bringing him up to Olivia’s behaviour around her father.

‘I took the opportunity to question Olivia again,’ Jennifer said. ‘I heard her whisper something to her dad, about keeping a secret. But she’s been mute ever since, and somewhat spooked. I didn’t want to push things too far.’

‘You don’t think he’s abusing her, do you?’

Jennifer shivered as their bathwater began to lose its heat. The words sounded ugly as they hung in the air.

‘I asked if her mummy or daddy had hurt her, or made her do anything she didn’t want to do,’ she said.

‘And?’

‘No. Well, at least she shook her head, which implied no. I watched her face closely for a reaction. I couldn’t see anything which would suggest that they were abusing her.’

‘Best you document it just the same,’ Will said, handing her his bathrobe as he stepped out of the water. ‘Here. I’ll make you a coffee, get you warmed up.’

Will wrapped a thick white towel around his waist and rough-dried his hair. Jennifer admired the contours of his body, and looked forward to the rest of their night together. A night in his arms was long overdue.

‘Want to know what I think?’ Will said, as Jennifer joined him in the living room. She had just finished cleaning the bath, and was now eyeing the dishes piled up in the sink.

‘Yes,’ Jennifer said, taking the coffee from his outstretched hand.

‘Olivia’s keeping a secret, and she’s too scared to tell you what it is. It might not be related to her sister, but it seems too much of a coincidence that all this is happening around the time of Abigail’s disappearance. I think she knows what’s happened to her sister, but it’s too horrific a prospect for her young mind to contemplate.’

He closed his eyes briefly as he took a sip from his mug, then placed it on the newly purchased coasters now gracing the coffee table.

‘The bulbs blowing, things being thrown, that’s all coming from Olivia. Her emotions are so pent up, she’s making things happen, whether she knows it or not. She needs a child psychiatrist, to help her work through her issues.’

‘I’ve tried. They won’t allow it.’

‘Who won’t?’ Will asked, cocking his head to one side.

‘Her mother. Nick is all for it, but Joanna’s flatly refused.’

‘That’s interesting,’ Will said. ‘I expected you to say her father. I thought Joanna was withdrawn.’

‘She is. That’s what makes it so strange. It’s the only thing she’s insistent on.’

‘Have you asked why?’

‘She’s not given a proper reason. If any child needs help, it’s Olivia. I hope we find Abigail soon, so they can get on with their lives,’ Jennifer said.

‘Do they think she’s still alive?’

‘They’re clinging on to hope. Well, you would, wouldn’t you? Because the alternative . . .’

Her words trailed away. Jennifer placed her cup beside Will’s, turning them until the handles faced the same way. Will rubbed her back, and she lay back into the crook of his arm. Will had known her long enough to notice her signals, and after some comforting murmurs he pointed the remote control at the television and selected an inoffensive movie; something to take their mind off work, at least until they got lost in each other again.

But Jennifer didn’t see the movie. Instead, she replayed snatches of her visit to Blackwater farm, the bits that had been bothering her long enough not to evaporate into the ether. Natives of Haven, both Nick and Joanna had moved away a couple of times, only to return. They used to live in London, while Nick commuted to work in Lexton every day. Moving to their townhouse in Haven had made sense for them both. She had a good job, was financially secure. But everything had changed dramatically in the last few months. They had sold up to live in a creepy derelict farm and Joanna had given up her job to work online, going from mixing with lots of people to being a recluse. Her friends were all virtual, and quick enough to desert her when the allegations came to light. Jennifer thought of the farmhouse, hollow and empty, crawling with a negative energy that would send most people packing. But there was something niggling at the back of her brain. When they came back after their trip to see aunt Laura, Joanna had been locked out. Why didn’t she have a key to her own house? The doors were old and battered, but the inner locks had all been filled in. The only door that had a key was the bathroom, and she had never seen Joanna use it. Jennifer remembered Joanna’s throwaway comment about not being allowed to bake, and the embarrassment that followed. There was something about the way Joanna spoke, that made her think she wasn’t allowed to cook either, or even to touch a knife. But she wasn’t imprisoned in the house. Joanna was able to go to the local TV studios after all. It was as if there was an unseen rule. It was one Jennifer would be keeping a very close eye on.

I
t was
a welcome relief to return to the CID office a couple of hours early to catch up with outstanding work. Two suspects for a previous case had failed to answer their bail, and Jennifer now had the pleasure of updating them on the police national computer system as ‘Wanted’. But mundane tasks like updating the PNC didn’t bother Jennifer, because as stressed as her job got, it was nothing compared to the repressive mood pervading the Duncan household.

She pored over an email from her colleague Zoe. Her digging on Blackwater farm had produced some interesting insights about its history. In the 1880s the building had been used as what could only be described as a workhouse. Orphans and unwanted children had tilled the land until an epidemic of scarlet fever wiped them out one by one. Makeshift graves were discovered close to the house, and the remains removed to Haven children’s cemetery, where they were given a proper funeral. Several children were never traced. Jennifer thought of the paraffin lamp, and the sorrow emanating from the woman in the long black petticoat as she gently nursed the sick. Enough sorrow to keep her walking the corridors, tending to her charges long after her death. For a few brief seconds, she had shown Jennifer her world. She only hoped that, having done so, the woman would be able to move on.

Jennifer scrolled down, her heart skipping a beat as she digested the second paragraph. Zoe stated that in the 1960s, teenage squatters had regularly frequented the house. That in itself was not unusual, but the email contained pictures of the interior after their departure. Pentagrams were crudely daubed on the floors, the carcass of a dead goat was found in the basement, and dozens of half melted candles lay throughout. Jennifer’s stomach heaved as she gazed at the image of an abandoned pot in the filthy living room, animal bones sucked dry, strewn beside a mattress on the floor. Had the teenagers invoked something evil? According to Zoe’s research, the farm had been plagued with misfortune ever since. Suicides, failing crops and dying animals followed over the years and, given recent events, the spate of bad luck wasn’t changing any time soon.

She clicked off the email, as much to dismiss the thoughts of her earlier encounters as anything else. To allow them to linger would be to give them power, and she had come far too close to such entities in the past to want to go there again.

She studied copies of the Duncan family’s statements for the third time, trying to glean some clues. Nick had stated that he was at home, clearing rubbish from the outbuildings and throwing it in the trailer on the back of his tractor for burning. At least he hadn’t lit the fire. The thought of going through the charred timbers in search of a body was too grizzly to imagine.

Joanna had said she was working from home on her computer with Fiona, who was baking cookies in the kitchen. The handyman Radcliffe had stated that he had been helping Nick but had left to attend a job. Jennifer’s thoughts lingered on his van. She had only seen Radcliffe twice, and each time he had seemed keen to avoid her.

Jennifer dry-washed her hands as an internal clock started ticking in her brain. Hearing Abigail’s voice had heightened the sense of urgency, and she wondered if her DI, Ethan Cole, had been asking too much of her, throwing her into such a harrowing case so soon after the last one. She gave her desk a critical gaze before straightening her monitor, keyboard and mouse mat with strict precision. As long as she was in control, she would get through this. She had to.

Will’s desk told a different story altogether. Coffee-ringed paperwork lay skewed in an order only he would understand. His computer screen was framed by yellow Post-it notes with illegible scribblings, and a half eaten sandwich lay beside empty sweet wrappers which had not yet found their way into the bin. But her constant source of irritation also brought a wistful longing. She missed their banter, the work-fuelled days, and the satisfaction of a job well done.

Working with the Duncan family was draining, and deciphering their emotions was like wading through a web of chewing gum. She glanced at her watch and sighed. It was almost 8 a.m. and time for her to go to the farm. DI Ethan Cole’s well-groomed head bobbed up from his office, and signalled her in for a catch-up. She couldn’t get used to the fact that he was her superior, particularly given that he was several years younger than her. By the time she entered the office, he had poured her a fresh cup of coffee from the percolator and placed it on the desk. It was becoming an agreeable habit, and she inhaled the welcome aroma as it mingled with the light spice of his aftershave. Ethan was lucky enough to have a window in his office, and the slice of morning sun brightened the sterile room. Jennifer smiled in appreciation as she took a seat across from him.

‘Hello, boss. You’re looking well.’

He flashed her a smile. ‘Thanks. I thought it would be good to have a catch-up, discuss what’s happening up at Blackwater farm. Any closer to answers?’

Jennifer crossed her legs. Will would have asked her how her family was, or how she was settling into work after such a horrific experience with her previous case. But Ethan was not Will, and he had her back at work as quick as her legs would carry her. Will may be a scruff bag, she mused, but he was
her
scruff bag, and had a caring nature beyond the realms of her DI. Still, at least he made good coffee. She took a sip and cradled the cup in her hand.

‘The family are distraught. They’re all dealing with their own issues. Fiona, the housekeeper, seems to be the strongest, and I’ve been very grateful for her support.’

‘I’ve read your reports to date. Is there anything you’re leaving out? They’ve not been giving you a tough time, have they?’

‘No more than you’d expect. Getting them in the same room together is like trying to herd wild cats. Between us, I’d be surprised if their marriage survives this.’

‘Sue’s said as much. But I want to get to the crux of this case. Dozens of officers are investigating, but you’re the one making that connection with the family. Tell me, with whom do your suspicions lay?’

Jennifer bit back her dimpled smile. Ethan’s formal tone took some getting used to. She wondered if he had to try very hard to prove himself; prove that he was all grown up instead of a young man finding his feet. His designer suit, his authoritative tone, they hid his vulnerabilities well. But she saw right through him, because that was exactly how she had been before she met Will. She straightened her spine and looked him in the eye. ‘I have my suspicions, but it’s early days.’

‘Go on,’ Ethan said, his long slender fingers toying with the rim of his cup.

‘Nick’s hiding something, and his daughter is scared. He resents my presence, and tolerates me only because he’ll get quicker updates. But I’ve no solid evidence yet, nothing that would warrant a formal investigation.’

‘Mmm,’ Ethan said. ‘Sue’s been investigating Joanna’s family, what’s left of them. I’d like to know why she’s estranged from her father, particularly given he’s her only surviving parent. She certainly doesn’t seem too concerned by his condition.’

Jennifer swallowed the dregs of her coffee. ‘Yeah, but that’s how she is about Abigail. I’ve tried asking her about her father, but she won’t say.’

‘Then ask Nick. Suggest taking Olivia to see her grandfather. That might get him talking.’ Ethan arched an eyebrow. ‘Are your psychic skills giving you anything?’

Jennifer squirmed. She hated being called a psychic. The term covered such a wide range of people. The word had been tarnished by fraudsters, as far as Jennifer was concerned, taking advantage of the vulnerable and exploiting the lonely.

‘It’s very hard to get some quiet time, with so much going on. But you’re aware of what I’ve picked up on so far.’

‘Yes, that was good work with the child. Do you think you’ll get any more out of her?’

Jennifer thought of the little girl with the pale face and spectacled moon eyes, lost in the absence of her sister. She wouldn’t use her as a pawn. The family had been hurt enough. Not that she was going to tell Ethan. She wouldn’t put it past him to take her out and put someone else in her place. Someone cold-hearted enough to extract what they needed, with little thought for the child.

‘Yes. I hope to. I just need more time. What she’s picked up so far . . . it’s not very hopeful.’

‘Yes, I know.’ Ethan shook his head. ‘But we have to focus on catching the person responsible. Olivia could be at risk. That’s why I need you to hang on in there as long as you can.’

Jennifer wanted to ask Ethan how he
really
was, running a new team with such a high profile case hanging in the balance. Reporting to such a strict taskmaster as DCI Anderson would not have been easy. But now was not the time. She straightened her skirt as she stood, painfully aware she was needed at Blackwater farm, where a drama of some kind most likely awaited her.

‘I’d best get a wiggle on.’

‘If you need anything, just give me a call. You’ve got my mobile.’

Jennifer returned to her desk, checking her emails as a ruse to wait a few minutes longer for Will. He and Zoe were already out on a job, an early start attending the graveyard where an occult group had set up camp and were allegedly decapitating dogs. Intelligence had stated that they were on the lookout for a human sacrifice, and the mention of Will attending a job where machetes and cults were involved had made her bristle. It didn’t help that he was with Zoe, who was all of seven stone. What good was she going to be, if they got into trouble?

An echo of laughter floated through the air as footsteps approached the office. Pulling up her sleeves, Jennifer began to clean Will’s desk. The thought of him working in such a mess bothered her, and she wiped over the coffee stains with a quick spray of antiseptic before shuffling his papers into a neat pile.

Zoe burst through the door, sniffing the air. ‘Ah, the antiseptic queen is back.’

‘Behave,’ Jennifer replied with a grin. She warmed at the sight of Will. Despite his crumpled tie and plodding apathy, she had missed spending the morning with him. ‘How was the graveyard?’

Will dropped his briefcase on the desk, frowning at the disappearance of his chaotic filing system.

‘Disappointing. There was nothing but a few meth heads. They were cooking up some roadkill over a fire.’ He shouted over at Zoe. ‘Oi, Danger Mouse, I’m parched here. Stick the kettle on, will you?’

‘Already done,’ she said with a twinkle in her eye, shuffling off to the kitchen with the dirty mugs.

Will returned his glance to Jennifer and gave her a wink. ‘That’s how you do it.’

Jennifer laughed. ‘It’ll take a bigger man than you to house-train Zoe. How’s it going? You feeling all right?’

‘It’s like I’ve never been away. Zoe’s a nice enough girl. Weird, but nice.’

‘Weird is a prerequisite for the job, isn’t it?’

Will smirked. ‘Speaking of weird, how are things going down at the crazy farm?’

Jennifer glanced around before lowering her voice. ‘It’s difficult with Nick being a sergeant. I had to prevent a domestic between him and Joanna on my first day. He’s so bewildered, I don’t think he knows whether he’s coming or going.’

Will rolled his eyes. ‘Well, if he gives you a hard time I’ll be having a word with him. You’re only trying to do your job. He should know that more than anyone.’

Jennifer contemplated Will’s words during the drive back to the farm. She knew from previous run-ins with Ethan that he meant what he said. She hummed as she tapped the steering wheel, feeling better for seeing her colleagues. There was still a chance Abigail was alive. Perhaps today she would find answers. The short trip to the office had done her good, clearing her mind and setting her priorities. Because now she knew what she needed to do. It was time to confront Nick.