Page 41 of Worse Than Murder
‘What had he done with the bodies?’
‘I don’t know that either. Iain said that Jack couldn’t remember. He said one minute he was watching them playing in the field, the next he was walking back to the farm. Hours had passed and he had no memory of what had happened.’
I nod. ‘That is something that can happen. Jack’s mind might have shut down in order to protect himself from what he’d done. I’m not justifying his actions at all, but it’s possible he was trying to fight his urges but couldn’t, and was struggling to admit what he’d done. Did you ever suspect Jack of?—’
‘No. Of course not,’ Lynne interrupts, almost violent in her protest. She has another sip of her coffee, turns, and gazes out of the window for a while. She releases a heavy sigh before continuing. ‘Iain told Jack to tell me. He said he couldn’t. Iain gave him twenty-four hours. He said, if he didn’t tell me, then he’d call the police and report him. Brother or no brother.’
‘What happened after twenty-four hours?’
‘He walked out into the lake before Iain had a chance to do anything.’
‘You think he walked out into the lake purposefully?’
‘It’s the only explanation.’
‘There have been sightings of Jack.’
‘I’m aware. I don’t know… I… I really don’t know what to make of all those. He either killed himself or he walked away from his life. I’m only glad he left us,’ she says, swiping away more tears.
‘You said he went to visit his mother that day,’ I say, after giving Lynne time to compose herself.
‘Yes. She lived in the next village. She and his father divorced years earlier. Hardly surprising. I don’t know how she put up with him for as long as she did. I wasn’t a fan of Granville. He was a bully. Anyway, when we told her that Jack appeared to have taken his own life, she said that it felt like he was saying goodbye to her when he visited. She didn’t last much longer after that. She’d always had a weak heart for as long as I’d known her. We didn’t tell her anything about… about the abuse. We just said Jack was struggling with the girls being missing and that his depression had returned.’
I watch Lynne. Her face is a map of worry and confusion. ‘Lynne,’ I begin, my voice quiet, sensitive. ‘Is it possible Jack abused Alison?’
Tears roll down her face. ‘I’ve no idea,’ she eventually says. ‘Alison has never said anything. I’ve kept a close eye on her over the years, looking for signs of repressed memory or… I’ve read a lot about victims of abuse acting out in different ways to try and make sense of things or to punish themselves; I’ve not seen any of that in Alison. She’s had a relatively normal life.’
‘Did you and Iain ever tell the police about the abuse?’
She shakes her head. ‘I wanted to. I wanted the police to tear the country apart looking for Celia and Jennifer. Many times, I stood outside that station, wanting to go in and tell them everything, but I kept thinking about Alison and what it would do to her if she found out. I didn’t want her growing up with all that hanging over her head, wondering if her father had abused her too and she’d blocked it out. I thought it was best to leave everything as it was. Jack had killed himself. It’s not like they could arrest him.’
‘I can understand that, I really can. Alison is a credit to you. I’ve only met her a couple of times, but she seems like a strong, capable young woman. Who knows what path she would have gone down had she known the truth as a teenager.’
‘I know.’
‘You’ve had a lot to deal with on your own.’
‘Iain has been a big help. He was strong for me, even though you could see he was struggling to understand what his brother had been capable of.’ She pauses as she takes another drink of coffee. ‘You can see why I don’t want you helping Alison. After all this time, how would she take the news of her father…’ She stops herself from mentioning the word abuse again. ‘And how would she react to me for keeping it from her in the first place? It’s all a mess, isn’t it?’
‘Alison isn’t stupid, Lynne. She’s constantly asking herself questions. What if one day she asks herself something that unlocks a memory?’
Lynne shrugs. ‘I don’t know. I think I can take whatever comes, but I’d rather not reveal it myself, if I don’t have to. I’ve left a letter with my solicitor to give to Alison after I’ve died. It explains everything in minute detail. Hopefully, I’ve written it in a way where she won’t hate me.’
‘I’m sure she won’t.’
‘Promise me, you won’t tell her.’
‘I promise.’
‘Thank you.’ Lynne reaches across the table and places her hand on mine. ‘I’ve been reading up about you. You’re a good woman. I knew you’d understand.’
‘Lynne, what can you tell me about…?’ I stop. There’s the sound of a fleet of cars driving at speed into the restaurant car park. I turn to look out of the window and see a police car pull into the car park, followed by a police van with ‘Crime Scene Investigation’ written on the side.
What the hell have I done?
Sheffield, South Yorkshire
Detective Sergeant Sian Robinson had taken a few days off work. The demands of the job, as well as searching for Matilda Darke, had started to take their toll on her, so her interim boss, acting DCI Christian Brady, forced her into taking a few days annual leave to relax, put her feet up, and forget about work. That was easier said than done. They had a serial killer who had gone eerily quiet, a depleted workforce, and three new cases, one of which involved the murder of a six-year-old boy which Sian was finding particularly distressing. However, she hadn’t argued with Christian when he told her to stay home for a few days. Her sleeping patterns were a mess, she hadn’t had a decent meal in a week, and she was neglecting her children.
