Bad Sister(38)

‘He’s got some new bloke, made him a partner – the idea being he’d take a back seat more, particularly with the foreign deals. He can’t let go, though, Connie. Can’t bear to hand over full responsibility to anyone else. Would’ve been different if he’d been able to pass the business over to Luke …’ Connie noted how her mother’s voice became hushed when she spoke his name. After a small pause, she continued, ‘He said he needs to keep a close eye on things, make sure there are no mistakes. He was always the one to be in control. Certainly won’t let go of the reins easily.’

‘No,’ Connie scoffed, ‘they’ll have to prise them out of his hands from his grave.’

‘Connie!’ Her mum’s shock travelled through the wire. ‘That’s a terrible thing to say.’

‘Sorry. Was only meaning it would take rather a lot for that. After all, if he couldn’t let go for his family …’ She let the rest of her comment slide. She’d got her point across. It wasn’t her mum’s fault; she shouldn’t be taking it out on her. ‘I need to speak to him, actually. What time did he leave?’

‘Must have been around ten this morning.’

It would take him about five hours to drive back, give or take. By the time she’d finished for the day he should be back in Manchester, she’d call him.

It was time to confront the past.





CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN


DI Wade


‘You okay?’ Mack kept his eyes on the road as he drove towards the area they were informed the incident had taken place. Numerous 999 calls had been logged from tourists and walkers. This had the makings of a bad day.

Lindsay stared out of the passenger window. The bushes whooshed past a little too quickly, her stomach squirming in response. Together with the heat, the twistiness of the narrow roads and the apprehension of what was to come, she thought she might vomit.

‘You’re speeding a bit … making me feel sick. I should’ve driven.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’

She took a deep breath in through her nose. ‘I know.’ Her voice was almost a whisper. Lindsay cricked her neck, left then right, and repositioned herself to look forward. She had to get it together before they reached the scene. ‘I used to love coming to the moors. A shame that doesn’t work any more. Me and Dartmoor are no longer good bedfellows.’ Her attempt at humour, a defence mechanism at times like these.

‘Not all memories are bad ones, though, eh?’ Mack gave her one of his reassuring grins. ‘Try and remember the good times you had here, not those to do with work.’

‘Tell me that again when we’re driving away.’

Their car began a sharp incline. At the top of this hill and round one more bend, the granite rocks of Haytor would come into sight.

A shiver jerked her body. Would she be able to handle this?

Mack looked at her again, his focus removed from ahead.

‘Can you watch the road, please?’

‘I know it’s not much comfort, but at least this is a suicide, not a murder we’re going to. This person had a choice.’

‘Some would argue that Karen Finch had a choice too, she chose to stab herself moments before her husband killed their daughter’s abductor.’ The memory of that evening’s events was as clear in Lindsay’s head now as the day it occurred. Some cases never left you. What a mess that scene on the moors had been. What mess were they about to encounter now? A leap from the highest point of Haytor, crashing into rocks as they fell, would not be a pretty sight.

‘There’s media everywhere.’ Mack’s voice low, as Haytor loomed in front of them. There was a helicopter circling, camera crews in the lower car park, police vehicles scattered along the road leading to the tor. Lindsay’s eyes flitted from the grey of the tor to the greens and browns of the rolling moorland, trying to take in the whole area of what appeared to be chaos. It wouldn’t be, though. Each person there had a role to play; a job to do. Their car was ushered into a space at the bottom of the tor.

‘Everyone loves a good suicide.’ Lindsay shook her head, questioning the need for so much media interest. It was like a pack of animals skirting around their prey, waiting to pounce and rip it to shreds. She tutted. ‘So sad. Bet they didn’t envisage their death being such big news.’

Lindsay and Mack approached the police officer at the perimeter of the crime scene tape, gave their names so he could write them on his clipboard. Another uniformed officer called to them.

‘Not a nice one, this,’ he said.

‘Are there ever nice suicides?’ Lindsay frowned.

‘Brace yourself for this, though, Detective Inspector Wade. It’s not exactly your standard suicide.’

Those words hit her in the gut. Hard. She took a deep breath and headed for the white tent.





CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT


Connie


After a quick hello cuddle with Amber, Connie headed for the fridge and the cold lager she knew was waiting there. Her skin was clammy after the train journey and then the walk from the station. Or that’s what she told herself. Not from the thought of calling her dad. She swigged straight from the bottle, the refreshing liquid hitting just the right spot, then went into the lounge. She stared at the phone for a long while, as though it were a deadly spider she didn’t want to take her eyes off in case it moved. Then she picked it up and dialled.