He rubbed at his forehead as though trying to make the information stick.
How much had this man lost through this one case? Kim wondered. His marriage. His friends. A career that had stagnated because he couldn’t get beyond his own failure or guilt.
‘You didn’t let anyone down, Gum. I’ve seen the files. You worked that case as hard as you possibly could have. Her abductor didn’t show up on your radar, and there’s no reason why he would have. It wasn’t your fault.’
He shook his head, and Kim understood his mind’s refusal to accept her words. It was like having a wart that bothered you every single day for twenty-five years and then suddenly having it removed.
‘Sh-She’s still alive?’ he asked, blinking away the emotion. She could hear the thickening in his throat.
‘Those pictures that were in your head all this time weren’t real. She didn’t suffer. She wasn’t raped; she wasn’t beaten.’
A tear slid over his cheek which he quickly wiped away.
She gave him a moment before continuing. ‘There’s more, Gum. You can read all the gory details when it comes out, but Melody was responsible for the deaths of three little girls.’
‘The ones you’re digging up half of the Midlands for?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘I’m saying no more until all the charges are in place, but I didn’t want you hearing this on the news. You deserve better than that.’
He wiped at his eyes and opened his mouth to let out one of the hundreds of questions that must have been on his mind, but he closed it again. He knew she was going to say no more.
He took a deep breath. ‘Thank you. I appreciate the courtesy. Now, what the fuck is in that glass?’
‘Lemonade.’
‘Why the bloody hell would you—?’
‘You know, Gum, there are times when we need to know shit. I mean, we need answers that we as police officers can’t get. I’m talking stuff that only a seasoned, experienced, gifted ex-police officer can find out. One that’s sober, has an excellent memory, impeccable contacts and a nose for getting to the truth. It doesn’t come with a title but most likely expenses, a few quid for your time and a chance to do what we all know you do best.’
Interest lit his eyes as she glanced at the glass of lemonade.
‘Your choice, Gum. I’ll leave it with you, okay?’ she said, pushing herself away from the table.
She turned at the door to see him staring at the glass of lemonade as though it would give him the answer; he hadn’t yet touched his other drink. His brain had a lot to process.
If he wanted to turn his life around, she had given him a reason.
She could offer him no more than that.
Eighty-Eight
Kim leaned against the seat of the Ninja with her ankles crossed and her hands balled in her pockets.
Her day had been the equivalent of a three-ringed circus. After speaking to Gum last night, she had sent the whole team home for some much-needed rest.
Overnight the news had come in that bones had been located at the Clent site. No one doubted they would be formally identified as belonging to Helen Blunt, Melody’s third and final victim.
The whole team had returned this morning, fresh and alert, ready to sort out all the charges for both Steven Harte and Melody Jones.
The CPS hadn’t been best pleased but had agreed that with Steven’s testimony they were happy that convictions of Kate Swift for the murders of Lexi, Paula and Helen would be achieved. And for his part, Steven Harte would never walk free again.
A couple of hours ago the press had exploded both locally and nationally. Every outlet and media were carrying the story; initially, that Melody Jones was alive after all this time, and then that she’d been charged with murder. Kim was sure that documentary makers were lining up talking heads already.
It was one of those stories that had captured the public’s interest. They wanted to feast on an oddity. To try to understand how the relationship had formed and then twisted between Harte and Melody.
She was pretty sure the Jones family would be considering how to milk this new development for everything it was worth. Not one of them had phoned the station to see how Swift was doing. Melody Jones was truly dead to them, and they would try and find some way to profit from her crimes.
Except a local reporter had been given a tip-off about certain eBay accounts, and Kim felt sure a juicy article about the family’s profiteering ways would be appearing imminently. The offers would soon dry up after that. They had made enough money out of Melody. It was time for it to stop.
Grace had been reunited with her mother at the police station. They had held each other as though they would never let go. The gratitude in Claire Lennard’s eyes had said more than any words she could have spoken.
So much pain, so much anguish caused by the twisted relationship of two people that never should have even met.
Two people had been responsible for the fact that three little girls had died, and yet she couldn’t find it in herself to hate either one of them.
Hollytree had been her home once too. Her own six-year hell had happened against the backdrop of a place that was devoid of humanity and hope. There was an ugliness there that consumed everything that lived within it.
Steven Harte had been imprisoned there for years, desperate to find hope, life, beauty. He had found that beauty in the faces of little girls.
He had admired them as one would admire a piece of art, a sculpture, except he’d allowed his fascination to drive him, to control him. He had not harmed any of the girls and had tried to justify his actions in relation to their backgrounds. In his own misguided way, he felt that he’d taken care of them.
During his confession he had admitted that he was repulsed by what Jenson Butler had done all those years ago, and he had used him only for the purpose of directing suspicion towards the man in the event that any of the bodies were found sometime in the future.
And then there was Melody – unloved, unwanted and abused. She had found a life with Steven Harte. She had become so attached to the ghost that protected her that she couldn’t bear the thought of sharing him with anyone else.
Her experience had turned her into a child killer. Would anything like that have happened if she’d never been taken? They would never know. Harte had been the only father figure she had ever known, and she had wanted to remain an only child.
It wasn’t the only time the subject of father had come up this week. Her arch nemesis had not only informed her that her mother was close to death, she also now held the only missing part of Kim’s childhood. Kim had been offered the piece of the puzzle and had turned it down. The price had been too high. There was no way her conscience would have allowed her to make any kind of trade with Alexandra Thorne.
And yet her refusal had all been for nothing, she thought as the prison doors opened.
Kim’s breath caught as the woman herself stepped out of the facility. The guard handed her a small holdall like a bellboy at a top hotel.
The afternoon sun glinted off her blonde hair as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, savouring the taste of freedom. A slow smile that Kim knew well turned up the corners of her mouth. It was the smile of victory.
Kim had no idea how she’d managed to swing it but it made no difference now. She was out and there was nothing she could do about it.