Heartlands Page 5

  ‘Shannon was last seen by Ben going into an Andrew Foster’s house.’

  ‘What? Why weren’t we told this straight away?’

  Dylan shrugged before Jessie opened the living room door again.

  ‘Andrew Foster. Who is he and where can we find him?’

  Louise clasped her hand to her mouth. ‘The blood! What if some of the blood was Shannon’s?’ Louise was clearly struggling to speak. It obviously hadn’t even entered her head that this Andrew could do anything to Shannon. ‘He’s, erm, I mean, he’s—’

  ‘Andrew was rushed to hospital, detective,’ said Jason. ‘We found him barely conscious. He’d cut his wrists and he was bleeding all over the place. He was rushed to hospital by ambulance a couple of hours ago.’

  ‘Where did they take him?’ Jessie asked as she rummaged in her pocket for her car keys. ‘Dylan, I want you to go and search this Andrew Foster’s place.’

  The drive back down the A9 didn’t feel quite as long, and Jessie was relieved the ambulance had taken Foster to Perth and not Dundee, which would have added an extra thirty minutes at least to the journey. She slotted into the last space in the car park – much to the annoyance of the BMW driver who pulled into the hospital car park just after her. Small victories. Jessie held her ID up for the woman on Reception in the bustling A&E department.

  ‘I’m looking for Andrew Foster.’

  The woman glanced over at a row of chairs on the far wall.

  ‘Have a seat and I’ll get someone to come and talk to you.’

  Jessie dropped down onto one of the cold, hard chairs next to a woman with a toddler on one knee snuggling close to her chest and a pram with a sleeping baby bundled up in a blanket. Her heart ached unexpectedly when she stared into the pram. She exhaled sharply, then stood to browse the assortment of leaflets in the wire rack. She hadn’t anticipated that. It had been a while. A slight pain tugged at her belly; it was psychological, she knew that.

  The smiling, thin, tired-looking doctor greeted her. ‘Detective Inspector, sorry to keep you waiting. I hear you’re looking for Andrew Foster. Andrew has just come out of surgery.’

  ‘Surgery!’ Jessie chirped. ‘What’s happened? I know he cut his wrists, but they required surgery?’

  ‘That’s the least of his problems. Andrew won’t be fit to talk to the police for a while. Not until his acute psychosis is brought under control.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Louise spat the remaining toothpaste into the sink and rinsed the residue away. She stared at Shannon’s toothbrush and a gut-wrenching sickness slammed into her stomach. She turned and vomited violently into the toilet next to the sink. She retched until all that was ejected was the putrid bile that comes with an empty stomach. Louise didn’t know when she’d last eaten. They certainly hadn’t had anything for tea. It was going to be a chippy tea which she’d picked up after work but, with no sign of Shannon when she got in, she’d decided to wait and eat with her daughter. The part-time hours in the second-hand bookshop still suited the family, even now that Shannon was a teenager.

  The thought that Andrew might have hurt Shannon was impossible for Louise to comprehend. Andrew was ill. He wasn’t a bad man. He couldn’t have hurt her, but the memory of all that blood swam round and round in her mind. She sat back and leaned her head against the bathroom door to catch her breath. As she tried to get to her knees, she was overcome with dizziness. She reached for the last of the toilet roll and spat into the toilet bowl.

  ‘Louise, you OK in there, hon?’

  Jason’s voice tore into Louise’s thoughts as she spat out the last of the vomit-streaked saliva, coughing to clear her throat.

  ‘Yes, I’m fine,’ she called back, her throat sore from retching.

  ‘Do you want a cup of tea?’

  Louise closed her eyes and sighed.

  ‘More bloody tea,’ she muttered to herself. ‘No, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.’

  ‘OK.’

  Louise heard his footsteps move away from the bathroom door.

  She took a long, slow breath, then exhaled while staring at her sickly, pallid reflection in the bathroom cabinet mirror. Her ashen colour reflected the fear she felt increasing inside her. Shannon never stayed out like this without telling them. She bent over the sink and splashed cold water over her face. She grabbed the towel on the rail and shivered at its dampness, then tossed it into the laundry basket next to the bath. She picked up the towel Jason had used for his shower that morning and wondered how he managed to miss a basket that size every time. Damp towels disgusted Louise. She raced into the bedroom at the sound of her mobile ringing to find Jason talking to her mum.

  ‘That was your mum.’

  ‘I gathered that,’ Louise snapped. ‘Give me my phone.’

  Jason silently handed it over, then flopped down on their bed.

  ‘Lou,’ he called after her as he watched her leave their bedroom then heard her feet on the first step that creaked just a little.

  ‘Go to bed, Jason,’ she yelled back up the stairs as she dialled the number and waited for the answer.

  ‘It’s me, can you talk?’

  Chapter Fourteen

  2004 – Paderborn, Germany

  ‘I think you’ve had enough, J.’ Magda Leverkusen attempted to pull the beer glass away from Jason. ‘Time you were heading back.’

  Jason Ross gripped the glass in his fingers then lifted his head and tried to focus on her face.

  ‘Jus’ one more, then I’ll go,’ he slurred, then belched and tried to stand, swaying slightly before leaning on the bar top to steady himself. ‘I’m fine, I’m going for a slash. Please, just one last pint.’

  ‘Go home, Jason,’ Magda repeated and kissed his cheek as she passed him on her way to collect empty glasses. ‘I will see you tomorrow.’

  ‘I think I might just love you, Magda.’ Jason waved and staggered away. As he did so, he bumped into a man shorter and stockier than him on his way out of the NAAFI. ‘Sorry, mate.’

  ‘Watch where you’re going!’ the man yelled into Jason’s face in a Cockney accent. ‘Private Ross, I should have known. Get back to barracks and sober up. You’re a bloody disgrace, man.’

  Staff Sergeant Liam Bundy wiped lager from his shirt and trousers. Jason stared without saying a word, then – before he realised what he was doing – Liam Bundy, his commanding officer, was on the floor, punches raining down on him thick and fast. Again and again Jason pounded into him, months of frustration fuelling his outburst.

  ‘Jason!’ Magda shrieked. She called for help and, thankfully for Liam Bundy, the redcaps were on Jason in minutes, dragging him off and away from the bar.

  ‘Ger off me!’ Jason screamed, and kicked the police van door as they tried to restrain him. ‘You should’ve let me kill the bastard.’

  Magda sobbed from the door of the bar as she watched them take Jason away. Iraq affected the squaddies in different ways.

  She’d known there was something troubling Jason. He’d just said he couldn’t tell her what it was.

  ‘Lucky for you, Staff Sergeant Bundy is going to be OK,’ Jason’s solicitor told him. ‘He’s not pressing charges, but they’re offering you a medical discharge, which is an offer they don’t expect you to refuse.’

  Jason smirked. ‘That’s convenient, isn’t it? One less person here to remind him, eh?’

  ‘I think this is the best outcome under the circumstances, Private Ross.’

  Jason scoffed. ‘Best for who, exactly?’

  ‘I think you’ll agree that your drinking has become a problem. Perhaps a new start will give you time to reflect on your future.’

  Jason signed the paper and, if he was honest with himself, this probably was for the best. Seeing the same faces around him. The reminders of that night were killing him. Her face never left his nightmares. The blood. The scream. The thud, and then the silence. The silence was the worst. He would have given anything to hear her scream again instead of the thick,
deafening silence before the pitiful whimpers of the squaddie who was driving the Land Rover.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Cassie was fast asleep as Rob closed the bedroom door. The pregnancy was taking its toll and her energy levels were so low that, some days, it scared him. The sofa was comfortable enough for tonight. He didn’t want to bother Cassie with Jason and Louise’s fears. She would only worry and want to go straight over there.

  He could probably get a bit of book promotion in too before he turned in. His US readers were up, and the Australians were likely just starting their day. Maggie Malcolm was right. Even Rob couldn’t believe book five was here already. The isolation of the writer’s life suited Rob. Having Cassie move in was difficult, but he was adjusting, slowly. He clicked on his laptop and checked his emails.

  ‘Come to bed, honey.’ Cassie’s voice tore through the silence.

  ‘I’m sorry, did I wake you?’

  Cassie sounded weary as Rob stood to hug her.

  ‘No, I needed to pee as usual.’ She patted her stomach.

  ‘You go back to bed. I’ll be through in a bit.’

  ‘Don’t be long,’ she answered, and reached up to kiss him before turning back towards the bedroom.

  Rob couldn’t concentrate. He grabbed his trainers from the utility room and pulled a sweater on. He needed to clear his head. He closed the back door quietly. He liked running when it was dark. It seemed to enhance the sense of isolation he craved. The back road between the main town and the small village of Weem was five miles there and back. Rob could run it in just under an hour. All Rob heard was the sound of his own breathing along with the rhythmic slap of his trainers on the wet ground, until the hum of an engine approaching from behind made him tuck into the grass verge. He waved to Bob Massie as he sped past in his Land Rover.

  He took the opportunity to catch his breath as he stared across at the outline of Ben Lochty, illuminated only by the moonlight, its imposing stature impossible to ignore. For thousands of years the mountain had stood proudly watching over the increasing expansion of Inverlochty, from small township of a few hundred to a rural town of over ten thousand. To the mountain both life and death passed in the blink of an eye.

  Having the house on top of Scroggie Hill meant Rob could look out and watch the world turn without being trapped in the middle of the chaos. Some days the only sound was the call of the collared doves nesting in the mixed woodland that his house backed on to. The silence, mixed with the warm sunshine in the garden, had been bliss that first summer. It was like a dream after his previous place. Sitting writing, staring out at the snowdrop carpet after a long, harsh Highland Perthshire winter was unbeatable.

  Before heading for a shower, the blue lights drew his attention and he shifted the blind to see exactly where it was headed. He wondered what the police would want with Andrew Foster now, and anyway, they’d be out of luck because Rob figured Andrew was still in hospital, the state he was in. His wounds were deep and would definitely have required stitching. He winced when he thought of how painful they must have been, and the sight of all that blood had made him retch.

  ‘What’s going on down there?’ Cassie yawned and cuddled into him.

  ‘Never mind that. You go back to bed.’ He kissed the top of her head.

  ‘Yes, boss.’ She smiled and joined him at the window, then frowned. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Don’t know, you get back to bed, missus.’ He tapped her bottom as she offered him a playful salute on her way out of the living room.

  Rob smiled until she was out of sight, then resumed his observation. It looked like the officers were inside and, just as he prepared to move away, a van arrived with a canine officer. Rob ran his hand over his chin and pushed the blind back quickly.

  ‘DC Logan,’ PC Molly Wilde called out.

  Dylan jogged into Andrew Foster’s kitchen. He ran his fingers across the back of his head and exhaled a huge breath.

  ‘Is it hers?’

  ‘It’s got Shannon’s photos on it.’

  Dylan clasped his hands at the back of his head and wondered how to tell Louise and Jason. Loud barking tore into his thoughts and he moved upstairs two at a time.

  ‘Get the dog out of here. I’ll get SOCOs in here asap.’

  The sight of blood on the bathroom floor sent chills through him. Andrew Foster’s home was now a crime scene.

  Chapter Sixteen

  1996

  Daniel’s eyes burst open. He inhaled a huge breath and grabbed hold of his T-shirt. That dream again. It was like a horror movie playing over and over in his mind. He feared closing his eyes. He saw her everywhere, behind every corner. And not just in his dreams. He wondered if Jack went through the same nightmares. Was it the nightmares that pushed Jack over the edge? When Cam told him that Jack was dead it was so much worse than losing his mum. Jack was more like family to Daniel. He ran a hand across his wet brow and rubbed at his damp neck. He turned his pillow in the hope of finding a dry spot to sleep on. Not that he would sleep much now.

  Dr Julia Hudson was disappointed but not surprised to hear about the escalation in Daniel’s violent outbursts over the past week. For a boy with serious anger issues to lose both his mother and his best friend in little over two weeks, it was always possible he would react like that. It was his last explosion that caused his social worker, Cam Walsh, to ask for the emergency consultation. The hospital said there were no broken bones, but the two young offenders he’d got into a fight with would be badly bruised and sore for a couple of weeks. The prison officer who intervened was treated for concussion but should be back at work sometime next week. Daniel was escorted by two officers and greeted Julia with a quick raising of his eyebrows before taking a seat opposite her.

  Julia smiled a warm greeting. ‘Hello, Daniel.’

  ‘Hello,’ he answered, his tone sombre.

  ‘I hear there’s been a bit of an incident since we last spoke.’

  Daniel kept his eyes on his feet and shrugged. Julia began to read from Cam’s letter.

  ‘You’ve had your television and Sega Mega Drive taken away, is that right?’

  He shrugged for a second time.

  ‘Losing Mum and Jack has been hard on you.’

  Julia allowed the words to hang in the silence, unanswered. It was important for him to acknowledge their passing. Daniel slouched low in the chair and nibbled on a thumbnail, but still Julia waited.

  ‘I suppose,’ he eventually muttered without looking at her.

  ‘It helps to talk about people we’ve lost,’ Julia encouraged him.

  ‘Wait a minute.’ Daniel snapped his head up. ‘I was told that part of our sentence was that me and Jack were to be separated. Talking about him now, it’s daft, don’t you think?’

  ‘Not when you consider the pivotal role Jack played in your crime.’

  Daniel stared coldly, unblinking. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Would Jack have done it without you?’

  Julia knew the answer to that already, but she wondered what Daniel believed.

  Daniel shrugged. That day Jack changed. Daniel didn’t know anything about him any more. He was like a stranger to him after that. The days following what they did, Jack acted as if nothing had happened. In fact, if anything, he was the most relaxed Daniel had seen him for a long time. As if a weight had been lifted rather than sitting heavily on his mind.

  ‘Why do you think he did it?’

  His answer was given by way of a shrug this time.

  ‘Do you ever think about what you and Jack did?’

  ‘I guess so,’ Daniel muttered, then scratched his nose and sniffed.

  ‘How do you feel about it now that you have had time to reflect?’ Julia probed.

  Six weeks after his conviction, Julia was keen to hear his thoughts. It came to light in Daniel’s statement to the police that Jack invited Sophie Nicoll to meet him that afternoon. He knew she fancied him and would be flattered by his invitation. Daniel claimed he h
ad no idea what was about to unfold, and Jack’s full motivation was still unclear.

  ‘What we did wasn’t right. I know that.’ He resumed biting his nails. ‘No, it’s not that it wasn’t right. It was so wrong. We should never have done that.’

  ‘That’s good to hear you say that. It’s important to acknowledge what we’ve done. Taking ownership, you might call it.’

  Daniel closed his eyes and nodded. ‘I suppose.’

  ‘Did you want Sophie to be your girlfriend?’

  ‘No,’ Daniel immediately scoffed, then frowned.

  ‘You’re very sure about that?’

  ‘Very sure,’ he insisted.

  ‘Did Jack want her to be his girlfriend?’

  ‘I doubt it.’ Daniel shrugged.

  ‘So what you’re saying, then, is that the two of you only wanted to have sex with Sophie.’

  ‘That’s right.’ He stared directly into her eyes until she was forced to look away first. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Julia pushed harder. ‘Did you need any encouragement?’

  Daniel tilted back his head and smiled inappropriately.

  ‘Did you encourage Jack in any way?’ she asked again.

  ‘Stop, Daniel, don’t do this,’ Sophie begged. ‘Stop, please. You don’t have to do this.’

  Jack watched Daniel rape Sophie just like he had ten minutes before, exhilarated by their actions. When Daniel was finished, Sophie lay frozen in fear. He stood to fasten his trousers.

  ‘Shit, man.’ Jack laughed and patted Daniel’s shoulder.

  ‘Get off.’ Daniel felt sick.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ Jack questioned him.

  Sophie rolled over and started to stand until Jack grabbed a fistful of her hair.

  ‘Jack!’ Daniel shouted. ‘Leave her. Let her go. She’s had enough.’