No Hiding Place: An edge of your seat mystery/thriller. (DI Sally Parker thrillers Book 2) (5 page)

“Of course I will. Thank you,
Inspector. Please, find the person who did this to Gemma. I know
many cases like this go unsolved for some reason or another, but
promise me you’ll do your best to find the culprit and bring them
to justice for robbing my daughter of her beautiful mother.”

“You have my word on that. My
team will strive to track the offender down and punish them
swiftly.”

“That’s all I can ask.”

He closed the front door
quietly once they left. “Crap, I’m sorry about the kid, doubly
sorry after what he told us about Gemma’s father.”

“It’s forgotten about, Jack.
However, Gemma’s father hitting Samantha like that needs urgent
investigation. It doesn’t sit comfortably with me. While I drive to
Heather’s house, you ring the station and get one of the guys to
run a background check on Raymond Lord. Then, once we’ve seen
Gemma’s mother, we’ll pay her father a visit. Hopefully, Gemma’s
mum will be able to fill us in more accurately as to the impact
he’s had on Gemma’s life over the years.”

Jack placed the call and
instructed Joanna to dig up what she could on the raging father and
to get back to them ASAP. He hung up, and out of the corner of her
eye, Sally saw her partner shaking his head.

“Are you thinking about the
father?” Sally asked.

“Yeah. It bothers me that
anyone could treat their family like that.”

“Not everyone is a
compassionate father like you, Jack. The world is crammed full of
nasty men who frequently sow their seed without contemplating the
responsibilities they’d be lumbered with. Let’s hold fire on the
recriminations for now until we get the full story from Gemma’s
mother, eh?”

“Okay. I suppose Gemma was at
least fortunate to have one decent parent in her life.”

Sally nodded. “Some people
don’t even have that honour. It’s at times like these, I for one,
count myself lucky for having wonderful, caring parents.”

“Do you think the father could
have done this? Is that where all this is leading?”

“At this point, I don’t think
we can rule him out. Something is bugging me big time about this
case. However, I can’t quite figure out what is annoying me. I
suppose the most important question I have is, why did Gemma feel
the need to get out of her car on a dark country road?”

“Good point. If I was female
and I got shunted from behind and was only a few miles from home, I
know what I’d do—put the pedal to the metal and get the fuck out of
there, sharpish.”

“That’s exactly what I’d do,
too, matey. So why didn’t Gemma?”

“Is that why you asked all
those questions about her character? I wondered where you were
leading with that.”

“Partially. I like to look at
things from the victim’s point of view occasionally, when things
don’t sit right.”

“I had noticed. Not so good
when we’re dealing with a prostitute murder, but I get your drift,
boss. Whatever floats your boat.”

His wisecrack earned him a
thump in the thigh.

“Hey, at least I
think
about a case,” she retorted playfully.

The mid-terraced house owned by
Gemma’s mother had no front garden and was situated in a rough part
of town.

“Don’t forget to lock the car,”
Jack reminded Sally as they approached the front door.

Sally made a point of showing
him she’d pressed the button to lock the vehicle before her partner
knocked on the front door of the property.

A woman in her fifties answered
the door with a cigarette hanging out of her mouth, grasping her
towelling robe at her cleavage.

“Hello. Mrs. Lord?”

“I am. And you are?”

Sally produced her ID and
introduced herself and her partner. “Is it possible to come in for
a chat?”

The woman’s brow creased.
“About what?”

“Please, take my word that
you’ll want to hear what I have to say in private,” Sally suggested
when a woman carrying shopping bags walked past, visibly straining
her ear to hear what they were talking about.

“You better come in.” Heather
Lord walked backwards a few steps to let them gain entry to the
property, then she turned and walked through the first door on her
left. “Okay, I’m listening. What’s this about? I haven’t stolen
anything or mouthed off to anyone, not as far as I can
remember.”

“Why don’t we all take a seat?”
Sally removed a few catalogues from the sofa and placed them on the
floor.

“Sorry about that. I’m sorting
out my granddaughter’s Christmas presents. I buy them through the
catalogue to eke out the payments. Of course, I don’t tell my
daughter that—she’d hit the roof if she thought I was going into
debt just to buy them presents.”

Sally swallowed then cleared
her throat with a gentle cough. “Your daughter is the reason we’re
here, actually, Mrs. Lord.”

“Why? What’s she done wrong? I
can’t believe Gemma would do anything illegal—not my Gemma.” Tears
glistened in Heather’s eyes, and her hand clutched her robe
tighter, making her knuckles turn white.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you
that your daughter’s body was found first thing this morning.”

Heather’s head protruded, and
her eyes widened in disbelief. “What?” she whispered.

“Jack, please get Mrs. Lord a
glass of water from the kitchen.” Jack rushed out of the room and
returned with a glass, which he offered to Mrs. Lord. While the
woman sipped at the clear liquid, Sally thought how best to tell
the woman about the circumstances surrounding her daughter’s death.
“It happened on a country lane close to her home. We’re still
trying to figure out how the incident occurred. I’m so sorry. We’ve
just come from breaking the news to her husband.”

Tears flowed down Mrs. Lord’s
cheeks like a rampant river. “Why? Was this an accident?”

“At this moment in time, we’re
working on the theory that this was an intentional act.”

“Stop blinding me with police
talk, Inspector. Are you saying that my daughter was targeted?”

“Yes, it would appear to be the
case. If you’re up to answering some questions, I’d appreciate it.
If not, then we could come back another time.”

“What sort of questions?
Surely, you should be out there, hunting down the killer, if you
believe this to be a deliberate act.”

“I agree with you.
Nevertheless, it’s important for us to find out a little about the
victim first and foremost.”

Heather wiped her tears on the
back of her hand. Fresh ones quickly replaced them. “What type of
things?”

“Mainly, whether you can think
of anyone who would deliberately set out to hurt your
daughter?”

Heather placed her head in her
hands and sobbed openly. Sally and Jack exchanged an awkward glance
while she wept.

“My baby. My poor baby. I’ll
never see her again. It’s not right for a child to leave this world
before the parents.” Her head rose, and she looked Sally in the eye
and nodded. “
He
did this!”

Sally shook her head as if
trying to stir herself from a daze. “Excuse me. Who did it? At
least who do you
believe
is responsible for killing
Gemma?”

Her lip curled. “Take your
pick.”

“You’re not making any sense,
Heather.”

“None of this makes sense to
me. She’s fallen out with so many of her family members lately, it
could be any bloody one of them.”

Jack withdrew his notebook.

“Okay, I think you better start
giving us some names and the reasons why you think they might be in
line for us regarding them as a suspect.”

“Do we have to do this now? Am
I not allowed to grieve, even for twenty-four hours?”

“If that’s what you want, then
I’m happy to adhere to your wishes, although I do have to tell you
that there is every chance of the suspect taking off, the longer we
delay things.”

Heather let out a long breath
and swept a hand over her colourless cheeks. “You should visit that
no-good bloody father of hers first.”

Sally nodded—so far, the
evidence against him was stacking up, placing him at the summit of
their suspect list. “Okay. Who else?”

“Her husband, Mark—I wouldn’t
discount him, either.”

“Why do you say that, Heather?
Was the marriage in crisis?” Sally asked, flummoxed by the
revelation.

“It’s had its moments over the
years. Like every marriage in this stratosphere.”

“Okay, that’s plausible and
something we’ll eagerly delve into.”

“Then there’s that smarmy shit
of a brother of his.”

Sally had the notion that
Heather, and not just Gemma, had fallen out with most of Mark’s
family over the years and was merely venting her anger to combat
the loss of her daughter.

“I’m getting the impression
that you don’t care much for any of these men.”

She shrugged and exhaled again.
“All I’m doing is helping with your enquiries. I believe these men
should be taken into consideration when you’re looking at suspects.
You’d be foolish to ignore me.”

“I appreciate that. Do you want
to go into detail as to why we should question these men in
connection with the… crime?”

Heather lit a cigarette; her
brow creased as she thought about Sally’s question. “I would rather
wait and grieve a while, but I’m aware that any evidence I give you
now will get this vile creature off the streets before they can
harm anyone else. I doubt that will happen, though, as their target
has already been brought down.”

Sally smiled at the woman,
appreciating her willingness to be open. “Just take your time. Let
us know if you need to take a break, okay?”

Heather inhaled a few more
puffs of her cigarette, then started telling them about all of
Gemma’s father’s faults, which were lengthy to the point that Sally
wondered if Jack would complain his hand hurt once he’d noted down
all the information. Before things got out of hand, Sally
interrupted Heather. “Okay, I think we need to narrow this down to
actual specifics. I appreciate that he’s your ex-husband and that
he’s your ex for a reason, Heather. The thing is, I need to find a
possible motive your ex-husband might have for taking his own
daughter’s life.”

“I understand that, and that’s
what I’m trying to give you, Inspector. Maybe we should call it a
day, if you’re not interested in what I have to say about him.”

“I’m sorry if that’s how it
came across. Of course I’m interested in what you have to say. My
job is to sift the information into piles of possible grievances on
your part as an ex-partner and plausible motives for a father
killing his own flesh-and-blood daughter.”

“Stop right there. This isn’t
about me trying to get retribution for the years of suffering that
man has subjected me and my daughter to in the past. This is about
his relationship with Gemma, the child he wanted me to get rid of
as soon as I found out I was pregnant with her.”

“I see. And yet you went ahead
with the pregnancy?”

“I did. No man has the right to
tell
a woman, with his fists, to get rid of her unborn
child.”

“I agree with you
wholeheartedly,” Sally said. She looked sideways at Jack, who
fidgeted in his seat and refused to raise his head to look at
either of the women. He’d recently gone through the same agonising
decision whether to ask his sixteen-year-old daughter to terminate
the child she was carrying or not. In the end, the family had
compromised and was looking forward to the child being welcomed
into the fold in the next few weeks. “Therefore, are you saying
that he’s never treated or loved Gemma like a daughter?”

“He’s had his moments over the
years, but always ends up spoiling any trust that he tries to build
up between them.”

Sally found it hard to
understand any father not wanting to be part of his own daughter’s
life.

“When was the last time Gemma
had any contact with her father? Can you tell me that?”

“At the beginning of the year.
He showed up at the house drunk one day, begging for forgiveness
after neglecting her all these years.”

“And did Gemma welcome him with
open arms?”

“Foolishly, yes. She usually
did. The thing is, I’ve never set out to deter her from seeing her
father. I believe children should be guided in this life to form an
opinion of people for themselves. There should be no need to force
your feelings upon others. Don’t you agree?”

“I do.” Sally found it strange
that Heather would say such a thing after spending about ten
minutes at the start of the interview ripping Gemma’s father to
shreds. Maybe it was her way of venting her grief and anger or
frustration with herself for not forcing her child to think poorly
of her own father now that she’d lost her life. “So, this time,
they remained on speaking terms. Is that right?”

“No, anything but! She left
Samantha with him one day while she went out to the shops. When she
returned, Samantha was bawling her eyes out, and she had a huge red
mark on her bare leg.”

“From what?” Sally asked,
sitting forward in her chair.

“I suspect it was from his
hand, but Gemma seemed to accept his answer that Samantha fell and
banged her leg on the table as she tumbled.”

“You didn’t, though?”

“No, I didn’t. I know the
bruises he used to give Gemma during her childhood. At one point, I
threatened to hit him with a frying pan. On that occasion, I
realised we no longer had a future together and told him the
marriage was over and to get out of my house.”

“How old was Gemma?”

“Just turned three, I
believe.”

“And you’ve struggled to bring
her up on your own ever since?”

“Yes. He flitted in and out
when guilt played havoc with his heartstrings, but apart from that,
he pretty much left us alone while I raised her myself.”

“That must have been hard?”