Her Last Secret

You should be scared, he couldn’t help thinking. He opened and closed his mouth again, looking for all the world like a ventriloquist’s dummy whose owner had laryngitis. In the end, he managed a strangled, ‘I’m so sorry.’

But, as it turned out, he didn’t need to say any more than that. She’d already realised he was here in an official capacity, from his expression, from the fact he wasn’t alone; knew what his job entailed. There were really only three people this could be about – and Mathew had heard that Julie’s dad was in a home somewhere, so if something had happened to him, she would have received a phone call from there. That left a choice of two, and probably only one of them hadn’t been in the house all night. Wasn’t an uncommon thing, if what he’d heard about the girl was correct – which was why Julie hadn’t been worried …

Until now.

It was Julie’s turn to shake her head, going into denial: ‘No … no, it can’t …’ Mathew had seen this on more than one occasion as well. Julie’s hand was going to her mouth, tears were already welling in her eyes.

‘Who the bloody hell is …’ The voice drifted through even before this newcomer followed, dressed in a vest and pyjama bottoms. Mathew recognised him as Greg Allaway, Julie’s husband. Hair closely cropped to hide the fact he was going bald, and with a well-cultivated beer belly – even more so than the last time he’d seen the man – he was totally the opposite of what Mathew would have expected Julie to end up with. Mathew might not have stood a chance back in school, but he could run rings around Greg Allaway as it stood today. If he hadn’t been married himself, of course. The thought made him uncomfortable, and wasn’t welcome in any way, shape or form. But when Greg snapped, ‘What the bloody hell is all this? I was just getting ready for work!’ it surfaced again momentarily, and just for a second Mathew wanted to punch him squarely in the face.

Julie couldn’t speak, was having trouble even standing. She toppled sideways against the open front door, and it was only when Mathew moved forwards to try and catch her that Greg did something to help – getting there first and grabbing her by the arm to steady her. Grabbing a little too forcefully for Mathew’s liking.

Greg looked from his wife, back to Linda and Mathew. And was there a hint of recognition now that he could take the latter in properly? Did he remember him from the last time they’d met? Remember his vocation? Even if he didn’t, Mathew had been told after all these years on the force he definitely looked like a policeman; didn’t even matter that he was plain-clothes. ‘What’s happened now?’ Julie’s husband asked gruffly.

Linda spoke up this time, doing the job that she’d been trained for. ‘I think it might be best if we came in off the street to talk about it.’

Greg looked back at his wife, who was on the verge of collapsing altogether – her green eyes rolling back into her head – and nodded.

***

Twenty minutes later, and they were all sitting in the living room: Greg and Julie on the couch, him with his arm around her; Mathew and Linda on the chairs opposite. Linda had made them all a tea, after asking where the kitchen was. An especially sweet one for Julie because she was in shock, although the woman hadn’t touched a drop yet, kept staring at the mug in front of her on the coffee table.

‘I just … I just can’t believe it,’ she kept on saying. ‘Not our Jordan.’

All Mathew could do was shake his head in reply. Not that he hadn’t done all the talking he needed to for now, hoping that what he’d said had helped a little. Of course, hearing that your daughter had been stabbed to death was never going to be easy to take in. But the fact that they had a suspect in custody, that he’d been picked up covered in blood not too far from the crime scene, must have been some sort of comfort to her. He left out the fact that they’d found fingerprints on the handle of the murder weapon for now, because it was currently being tested, but Mathew had no doubt whatsoever that they would end up belonging to one Robert ‘Bobby’ Bannister: Jordan’s boyfriend.

‘But … but why?’ Julie asked again, gazing up at him with eyes that looked like they’d been scrubbed raw. All he could do in answer to that was give another shake of the head, because Mathew Newcomb didn’t have the first clue. What he did know was that it was only a matter of time before it all come out in the wash. Things usually did.

‘That young lass was always getting herself into some kind of trouble,’ was Greg’s reply. ‘I’ve … we’ve done our best to try and help her, but, well, some people just don’t seem to want to be helped, do they?’ Before anyone could say anything to that, he added, ‘Oh, Christ – work! I need to give them a call and tell them I’ll be late in.’ When he saw the look Julie cast him, he changed that to: ‘Tell them I won’t be in, I mean.’

He let go of his wife then and went out into the hallway to use the phone on the table there. It was only now that Mathew got up, went over and sat down next to Julie as she broke into another fresh bout of tears. ‘Hey, hey … it’s okay, Jules. Everything’s going to be okay.’ Hollow words and they both knew it. Nothing would ever be okay again as far as Julie Allaway was concerned.

The sound of Greg’s voice on the phone wafted through to them and it was suddenly as if a light bulb had gone on in Julie’s head. ‘Has … has anyone let him know?’

Mathew was puzzled for a second or two, then realised who she meant. ‘Someone’s contacting him, from the station.’

As Julie nodded slowly, Mathew caught the look of confusion on Linda’s face. ‘Greg is Jordan’s stepfather,’ he told her, and she nodded.

‘He … he’ll be in bits,’ Julie mumbled, as if she hadn’t even heard Mathew’s words to the FLO.

‘I know,’ said Mathew, patting her knee. ‘I know.’ She broke down once more, leaning across and sobbing into his shoulder. There were words, but he couldn’t really make them out at first. Then Mathew realised what she was saying.

‘What are we going to do?’ Julie was repeating over and over. ‘What are we going to do?’

***

Jacob Radcliffe yawned as he sat waiting for the other members of his team to get their act together, to get there. It was like trying to herd cats, getting the producer, reporter and sound person all in one place at the same time so they could set off to their destination – this time to do a thrilling piece about an old married couple who’d been together for seventy years. Lucky them. Typical kind of thing for the local news sections on TV. Jake was so looking forward to pointing the camera at them and listening as they gave sage advice like: ‘Never go to bed on an argument’ or ‘Try not to worry about things you can’t control’. Jesus.

Where was all the big news? he had to ask himself. He’d been on more exciting gigs when he’d been a photographer for The Granfield Gazette back in the day. There was even that report about mob boss Danny Fellows and his operations that Jake’s old colleague Dave Harris had been lining up until it got squashed. It had been exciting though, going round and taking pictures of the places Fellows owned, like that casino or the strip joint. Felt like they were doing something important, something worthwhile … Probably a good idea it stopped where it did though, if Fellows’ rep was anything to go by, Jake often thought to himself. At least when you were interviewing old married couples there was no chance of ending up at the bottom of the river wearing concrete slippers.

He looked at his watch again, then out across at the newsroom at the various people who were in at this hour: only a handful so far, checking emails, answering or making calls. Jake yawned again. What was the point of arranging a time to set off on their long drive when nobody was going to show up but him? He had been hoping they could get this in the bag and out of the way before lunch, so he could sneak off and do some more editing on the short film he’d been making in his spare time. It was just something he was doing for fun at the moment, not really thinking it would go anywhere – and certainly not thinking along the lines of BAFTAs or Oscars – but maybe if he could get it up to scratch he could hit the festivals with it. Jake had mostly recruited students from the local unis and colleges to help with it all, people who’d work just for credits over several weekends. And it wasn’t shaping up too badly at all, if he said so himself: a film about young people today and their thoughts about the future, where everything was heading. Fiction, but in a documentary style.

But he was never going to get it finished at this rate, not if Sarah, Phil and Howard didn’t get their arses in gear so they could get this over and done with. ‘For God’s sake,’ he said, stifling yet another yawn.

They were lucky he was in at all, the restless night he’d had. It had taken him ages to actually get to sleep and he’d only been in the land of nod a short while when he’d woken up, panicking and sweating. He could have sworn someone had been calling out his name, but when he turned on the light he felt quite silly for answering. Jake had struggled to get back off, tossing and turning, rolling onto his front, his sides. Thank Christ he didn’t share a bed with anyone anymore, because they probably would have kicked him out onto the couch. In the end, he’d got up at stupid o’clock and made himself several cups of coffee – which was probably why he’d got here so early that morning, and why it seemed like he’d been waiting ages. Couldn’t blame the others for staying tucked up in bed a little while longer, he supposed, but all the same …

Jake was relieved when he saw Sarah, their reporter, come through the doors, looking immaculate as usual (he’d once joked that she probably got out of bed looking like that, and she’d scowled and filled him in at great length about all the prep it took). She held up a hand in greeting, then pointed to indicate she was going to grab a drink before coming over. He sighed … but then neither of the others had even shown their faces yet.

Phil and Howard turned up together, laughing and joking as usual – not a care in the world – and Jake was just rising to go and join them when someone actually did call his name. It was their IT person, Alison, holding up a phone for him to come over. Jake touched his chest and she nodded, face quite serious.

‘Who’s calling me here?’ he asked her as he trotted over. He had his work mobile on him, so why not use that? ‘What’s it about?’

Alison shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t say. Sounded official, though.’

Jake took the phone from her, his brow creasing. ‘H-Hello?’ He nodded when they asked if they were speaking to the right person, before realising they couldn’t see him. ‘Yes, that’s me.’

Then, as the words came through the receiver, it was as if time stood still. Jake tried and failed to process them. Instead, he dropped the phone which hung down the side of Alison’s desk by its cord. Then he walked away, leaving Alison and everyone else mystified, ignoring their calls.

He had somewhere to be.

He had something to do.

Chapter 2 (#ulink_61935f97-23c3-5776-9792-42671c152f22)

How Jake got to his Silver Toyota, got on the road, and made it to the motorway was something of a mystery in itself.

There were just too many thoughts racing through his mind. Memories especially, winding back time to the day he’d first seen Julie at school, and they’d shared that moment – the one that told them both they’d be together forever (hadn’t made seventy years, though, had they). Hanging out with her and Mathew after hours – the Three Musketeers – then him and Matt getting into all kinds of trouble as they started to gravitate towards the wrong kind of company. Graffiti, bit of pickpocketing, joyriding; the usual juvenile stuff. In Jake’s defence, he’d lost his father back when he was only 10 to bowel cancer and his mother was so busy working all the hours God sent, she couldn’t keep a proper eye on him. That was the excuse those lawyers had used at any rate. Then they were caught with a stolen car, and Jake had carried the can for Matt. It had seen him get away with a suspended sentence and community service, thank Christ, though it had probably contributed to his mum having her heart attack a couple of years after that.

None of this had put Julie off him, though. In fact, it only seemed to make her want him more, despite the fact he’d dropped out of school and she was trying to get her A levels. Maybe it was the bad boy thing a lot of young girls went through? He hadn’t been that bad, though, not really. In any event, they’d ended up spending more and more time together – at the local skateboarding area, at the park after sunset, at the woods nearby. Her parents, the Brents, who to him were like something out of the 1950s, definitely didn’t approve. But it was getting to the point where they couldn’t really tell her what to do anymore. He and Julie started sleeping together, and it was amazing … right up until the point that the condom they were using one night split; Julie had been too scared to go to the doctor’s and get the pill, so that had been their only method of birth control.

Jake remembered the night she’d told him, having hidden it from everyone for months – right up to the time when it was too late to do anything about it but have the baby. Not that they’d have done anything differently, he didn’t think. So there they were, not even 18, green as grass, and they were looking at being a family. Naturally, Julie’s parents had freaked the fuck out – her dad even handing her an ultimatum, to give Jake the heave-ho or get out, much to her mother’s distress. He hadn’t meant it, he’d told her later, just hadn’t known what else to do to get her to see sense. Stubborn Jules and that fiery temper, which matched her hair. She’d been his little girl, and the man had seen it as a violation (Jake didn’t get that until much, much later). He wasn’t exactly a catch anyway …

However, Julie had chosen to be with him – put her faith in Jake even though it scared the crap out of him. It had forced them both to grow up overnight, for Jake to take some responsibility and get whatever above-board job he could (and now he could finally understand what his mum had been doing to put clothes on his back, to put food on the table). He’d done all kinds of work back in those days, from manual labour on building sites to packing goods on a conveyor belt in a factory.

Julie had to give up on the A levels, of course, abandoning her ambitions of becoming a vet. But oh, it really was worth all the struggle in the end. Because when Jules gave birth that afternoon in January, it was like their lives had only really started. The love they’d felt for her … for this girl they’d named Jordan – becoming The Three ‘J’s now – well, it was just indescribable. Like he would do anything for her, anything at all. Step in front of a bullet, a train …whatever, gladly.

She’d been Jake’s pride and joy, had brought so much happiness to their tiny little home: a two-bedroom flat, in quite an undesirable part of town. They didn’t have much, but they had each other, they had love. More love than some folk had with mountains of cash.

And, in time, Jake had found himself in better – more regular – employ, while Julie had gone to work part-time at a local vet’s, just while Jordan was in school. Jake began to think about bettering himself, and Jordan had made that happen. He wanted to be somebody she could look up to, not just ‘Daddy’ but a guy who had a vocation. That was when he’d taken the night-school classes in photography, something he hadn’t thought about in years but had been quite keen on as a young kid. He soon found he had an aptitude for it – composition and framing came as second nature to him (this was back in the days of single lens reflex and developing fluids, back before digital photography became the norm). Some of his work had even been sent with the classes’ offerings on a touring exhibition abroad.

It gave him the encouragement he needed to apply for work at all the newspapers in the surrounding areas, especially now they’d finally managed to afford a small car. Julie’s parents had started to chip in as well, not vast amounts but at least they were trying – probably so they could gain more access to their grandchild. By then, Jake’s mum had passed away, so really they were all Jordan had in terms of grandparents.

He’d got his job as a junior at The Granfield Gazette, and worked his way up, becoming one of the most trusted photographers on the staff. They got a house, a real house with stairs and everything. Jordan was doing well at school, showing signs of Jake’s own creativity – especially painting and drawing, some writing too – but also a love of animals that she got from her mother. Always wanting to take in strays, look after them. Things were good, life was good.

But then came the teenage years.

In the space of just a few months – so little time – when Jordan was coming up to her fifteenth birthday, her whole personality had changed. She’d always been so sweet, so thoughtful, but the kids she’d started hanging out with at school were just idiots, plain and simple. Jake and Jules had tried to instil in her a sense of right and wrong, a moral core, but that was soon eroded away by the need to be popular – to not look like one of the eggheads who were always studying. And those fucking smartphones, bloody social media … They’d been able to police it to some extent when she first got one, which they’d thought was a good idea to begin with, a way of keeping in touch. Jake had even bitten the bullet and got one himself at the same time, just to try and hang on to some of that closeness they’d once had as father and daughter.

Gradually, and inevitably it seemed, guys showed up on the scene. Jordan went from not really being interested, to plastering herself in make-up when she was heading out, even just down the road to a mate’s, or staying over at a friend’s (which they would later usually find out was male). Photos would appear all over her online pages: Jordan with groups of both girls and boys, some they didn’t even know from other schools, or older lads from college. Some of the comments beneath them were absolutely disgusting. They’d confronted her about it on several occasions, but her answer was always to point to their own teenage years. And, no, Jordan hadn’t got pregnant, but there had been a couple of scares at least that they knew about. All of which had Jake pulling his hair out.