Behind Shadows: A Psychological Mystery Thriller (The Adam Stanley Series Book 1) Read online

  As Adam entered the room, he nodded his head at Amanda's creep of a husband before sitting down next to Kate. He couldn’t understand how any decent man could accuse his wife of such a thing? Obviously, there was no love lost between them, but even so—she was the mother of his children for God’s sake!

  Michael told them Amanda hadn't got home until very late on Wednesday evening; he was in bed already.

  "So why do you think she had something to do with the murder of Annie Duncan, Mr Flynn?" Kate said.

  "Her sweatshirt." He sat up straighter, a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "I found it the next morning. She'd put it in a plastic bag in the bin. It was covered in blood."

  Kate gave a small gasp. Her feet shuffled under the table and she leaned forward, licking her lips.

  Adam had already heard the rumours about her. She was nicknamed Rottie because she could be like a Rottweiler with a ragdoll if she got the mere whiff of a result. He wondered if he'd led Amanda into the lion’s den.

  "Did you ask your wife about the blood?" Kate asked.

  "Yeah. She tried to tell me it was paint, but I knew it was blood straight off," he said. The side of his mouth lifted in a sneer. "I must admit though, I never thought she was capable of something like this."

  Kate glanced at Adam and raised her eyebrows before turning back to Michael. “Maybe you should explain, Mr Flynn.”

  Michael shook his head and glanced down at his hands. "She's been acting strange lately, and things have been strained with us. She even bit my face a couple of weeks ago, look at this scar." He moved his hair away from the side of his eye and showed a discoloured area with a scab in the middle.

  "Has she ever been violent before?" Kate said, almost on the edge of her seat. The more she heard, the more her eyes sparkled.

  "Not really, but this time she just snapped like a woman possessed. She frightened me. I don't know what's wrong with her. You know, she never even told me about her family—I thought she was an orphan all these years. Imagine the shock when I found out her dirty little secret."

  "Maybe she had good reason to keep it to herself," Adam said, feeling he needed to defend Amanda. She had nobody else to, if her own husband was ready to see her hang. "Sometimes it's best to leave the past in the past and focus on the future instead, Mr Flynn. Unfortunately for your wife the past seems to be back to haunt her."

  Michael shrugged. "Well, you can let her know I'm taking the kids at least until this mess is over. Even if she's got nothing to do with the murder, there's still a nut-case out there with a sick taste for kids and I'm not gonna let him anywhere near mine."

  The shrill sound of Kate's mobile had her up on her feet and in the corridor. When she returned a couple of minutes later, she was eager to wrap up with Michael, dismissing him in no time at all.

  On their way back to Amanda, Kate turned to Adam. "She did it! She was seen buying vodka on Wednesday night, and a number of people have given her description as the woman who helped Annie get home."

  Adam’s stomach did a flip. He hadn't seen this coming. He'd not sensed anything off about Amanda at all. "So what now?" he asked.

  "We turn up the heat."

  He followed her into the interview room.

  Chapter 12

  Amanda

  I sat staring at the back of the door for a while before deciding to check if it was unlocked. It was.

  Popping my head into the corridor, I came face to face with the uniformed officer who'd brought in the coffee earlier.

  "Can I help you, Ma'am?"

  "I...'erm...I need to use the toilet," I stuttered.

  "Of course. Follow me."

  He led me to a room down the corridor and waited outside for me. Then he walked me back to the interview room.

  "Where did the detectives go? I need to get back for my children."

  "They shouldn't be much longer. Can I get you another coffee while you wait?"

  "No, thank you. But please let them know I need to get going."

  When the detectives returned thirty minutes later, I was fuming.

  "About bloody time! Didn’t you get my message? I need to go home to my children."

  "That won't be possible right now, Amanda. We still have a few questions to ask." DI King limped over to take the chair she’d vacated earlier.

  "I've told you all I know and it's getting late. Can I come back tomorrow?"

  "Your husband has been in to see us,” she said. “He said to tell you he will be taking the children away for a few days."

  "What the fuck!" I couldn't believe my ears. "He can't do that. Where's he taking them?" I felt distraught at the thought of my children being taken to God only knows where.

  "Don't worry, Amanda, I'm sure they'll be okay. He was just concerned for their safety," DS Stanley explained, but I noticed he couldn't meet my eyes. "Okay, Amanda."

  DI King snapped my attention back to her.

  "Where were you on Wednesday night?"

  "We've already done all this. I told you earlier."

  "Just answer the question, please." Her tone was more formal than before.

  "Working. In Kingsley."

  "When did you last go to Peckham?"

  "What's happening here?" I said glancing at DS Stanley, but he was still trying to avoid my eyes.

  "We've had some further information that we need to check out," he said. "Please co-operate, Amanda. We shouldn't take too long.”

  Kate King asked again, "When were you last in Peckham?"

  "I already told you—never!" I began to panic. "What makes you think I've ever been there?

  "Someone fitting your description was seen walking Annie home the night she was murdered," Kate said.

  "That's impossible. It wasn't me." My head was in a spin.

  "Also, we have reason to believe you disposed of an item of clothing that was covered in blood."

  "It was paint! Check for yourself. I don't believe this is happening. I came here to help you, and now I'm your number-one suspect."

  "We have a team of officers going over to your place now to check your rubbish. In the meantime, we need to arrange for an identity parade. It looks as though you'll be with us for a while longer.”

  Chapter 13

  Adam

  "We have to release her," Adam said. "There's nothing to hold her on."

  "We have officers checking the dump as we speak. They shouldn't take much longer—they know where it should be." Kate was hanging on by a thread and they both knew it.

  The identity parade had been a waste of time. Three people saw the girl with Annie, yet all three chose a different person from the line-up, and not one of them chose Amanda.

  "It doesn't ring true, Kate. Why would she kill Annie now? She could have done it at any time."

  "It's all we have to go on at the moment."

  "That doesn't mean she's guilty, just because you have no more leads," he said, shaking his head.

  "I know that," she spat.

  "You're gonna have to release her—for now at least. I'll go and tell her."

  Adam couldn’t believe Kate. She’d been a detective for years and should know better than to focus on one lead of enquiry. Maybe it was the pain she was in that was clouding her judgement.

  He was relieved that Amanda had begged him to attend the interview now, Lord knows what would have happened if he hadn’t been there.

  His plan had been to leave Kate to her case and get back to his own work, but how could he? Kate would have Amanda tied up like a trussed kipper if he wasn’t there to make her see sense.

  Amanda lay in a foetal position on the wooden bench of the stark white cell and she sat up when he entered. "Have you come for another round of interrogation?"

  "No, quite the opposite. You’re free to go."

  "About bloody time. What happened? Hold on, let me guess. Nobody recognised me? Well, well, what a surprise—considering it wasn't even me."

  Adam shrugged and bobbed his head. He k
new better than to antagonise an angry woman.

  She stood in front of him, looking up to meet his eyes. "I'll tell you something for nothing though: I'm glad she's dead. Somebody did the world a favour that's for sure. She was a nasty, sick human being." Her eyes filled, and as she blinked, two large tears ran down her cheeks.

  "I wouldn't let DI King hear you—she'll keep you in another night." He awkwardly patted her arm and smiled.

  "She wouldn't. And besides, what about the sweatshirt? She must know by now it was paint."

  "The rubbish had already been collected. She's still searching the dump for it."

  Amanda shook her head and smiled. "This could only happen to me. I was the one abused for years, yet I'm treated like a criminal. You wouldn't believe what Dennis and Annie did to me."

  "I read the file, Amanda, and I sympathise, but you must understand we need to check out all avenues. You’ve gotta admit, you have a very good reason to want them both dead."

  "But I didn't do it! You've got to believe me."

  "For what it's worth, I do. Now come on, let's get you home."

  He walked Amanda to the exit before going back to his office, puzzled by the effects she was having on him. He considered himself a decent detective—he always worked by the book, with excellent intuition and he was sure of Amanda's innocence even though the evidence was piling up against her.

  Maybe he’d lost his edge.

  Her childhood had been horrific. That would have been obvious to him, even without reading the file.

  As a victim of child abuse himself, he could identify with her, could feel her fear.

  His abuse had been physical, not sexual. Even so, he knew the helplessness a child felt when their carers—the people supposed to love them, to protect them—were the ones who terrified them the most.

  Adam’s stepfather had been a hard man, ex-army, and would take no-nonsense. The worst part of it for Adam had been the way his beloved mum had turned a blind eye to his abuse of her only son.

  She had never been a very strong woman, but after Adam’s dad died she withdrew into herself. By the time she met Vernon at the local church she’d been a widow for four years and was grateful for his attention.

  Vernon was a God fearing, religious man with very definite ideas of how a household should run and how a twelve-year-old boy should behave.

  His mum had made excuses for the way he treated Adam, believing it was for his own good. But as Adam got older, the abuse became much worse and went from physical beatings to the withholding of food and basic human needs.

  Vernon was smart though and withheld just enough to cause Adam maximum discomfort but not enough for anyone on the outside to notice. Adam began stealing food from his school mates and was getting a name for himself. When Adams form teacher, Mrs Brady, noticed something wasn’t quite right and took him under her wing, he eventually confided in her.

  Vernon was never charged with anything. However, he left the family home and divorced Adam’s mum, who had been distraught and had still not recovered from the humiliation. This was one of the reasons Adam felt so responsible for her to this day.

  However, his abuse hadn’t been a patch on Amanda’s.

  It had shocked him to learn that, at fourteen years of age, she had given birth to a baby. Paternity testing couldn’t prove Dennis was the father as it was just as likely to have been Andrew.

  Amanda’s labour had started in her bedroom when her stepmother Annie was the only other person home. Dennis had never allowed Amanda to see a midwife or a doctor. He'd insisted they would deliver the baby themselves, but Annie panicked and instead called an ambulance. This gave Amanda her chance to escape.

  She told the midwife everything, and after her Caesarean birth the premature baby was given up for adoption. Amanda never laid eyes on it and for the next six weeks she remained in a trance-like state.

  He’d told Amanda he’d read the file but hadn't mentioned that he knew all this. Kate mustn’t have read it or she would have been in for the kill—vicious cow that she was.

  He poured himself a coffee from the pot. It was hot and wet—he didn't care that it tasted burnt.

  Sitting down at his desk, he opened up the missing person file. The rugged yet handsome face of Dennis Kidd looked back at him.

  "Where are you?" he said aloud. He rubbed his chin, the rasping sound of stubble reminding him he'd missed his shave this morning.

  He couldn't understand what made a man do the kind of things Dennis had done to his children. No matter how many times he read similar cases it never got any easier. Now this monster was out there somewhere—doing what, was anybody's guess.

  His phone rang.

  The desk sergeant told him Amanda was asking for him. He stuffed the file into his drawer, switched off the light and closed his office door on the way out.

  His stomach did a little lurch when he saw her sitting in reception. She looked done in, elbows on her knees and her head in her hands.

  "Amanda, I'd have thought you'd be home and in bed by now."

  "I would have been but my car won't start."

  "I'm about to leave myself. Come on, I'll drop you off at home. The car can wait till tomorrow."

  "Are you sure? I don't want to put you out, but I didn't know what else to do. My phone's dead," she shrugged, smiling sheepishly. But the smile didn't reach her sad blue eyes.

  "No problem at all. Let's go."

  They drove the first few minutes in silence, Amanda seemed deep in thought. He wished he could console her in some way–assure her that they’d catch her father and everything would be alright. But he wasn’t sure they could.

  He didn’t trust Kate to do the right thing, and he wasn’t sure how much help he’d be. It would be best all round if he were to go back and bury his head into the missing person files, leaving Kate and her team to investigate this case.

  But although that was what he’d prefer to do—deep inside him was a bloody good detective, one who had been a bit battered and bruised of late but he was still there. He knew he had no choice. Amanda needed an ally and unlikely as he was, he was all she had.

  “How long have you been here?”

  Her voice surprised him from his own thoughts.

  “Sorry?”

  “You’re obviously from up north. How long have you been in Pinevale?”

  “Oh—er … not long, a couple of months.”

  “You’re accent is very strong. I guessed it must be recent.” She smiled. “What made you come here? I’m not sure London would be my choice.”

  The sky was suddenly lit up by fireworks, giving Adam a few moments to gather his thoughts. He didn’t know what to tell her. He rarely spoke about his private life and especially not with a stranger and a suspect at that, but something about her made him want to spill his guts.

  “I’m sorry—none of my business,” she said.

  “No—it’s not that. It’s just difficult to talk about. You see, my wife died and I had to get away. Here was as good a place as any.”

  “I’m sorry—I had no idea.”

  “Why would you? It’s okay, honest.”

  He turned onto her street. The house was in darkness as he pulled the car along the curb.

  "He's actually taken them," she whispered. Her gaunt expression was illuminated by the feeble street light.

  "I'm sure it's just for their safety. He's concerned there's a murderer on the loose."

  "He's not concerned about me though," she whispered.

  "I take it things are not right between the two of you?"

  Amanda shook her head. "No. They haven't been for ages, but all this has freaked him out."

  “Is there anyone that would come and stay with you for a few days?”

  She shook her head. “No, there’s nobody.”

  Once again, Adam was surprised at the sudden jolt of tenderness he felt towards her. He wished he could comfort her, pull her into his arms and calm her fears, but he couldn’t, he needed to ke
ep his professional distance.

  "He knows how I feel about the children. I can't remember a night we haven't spent under the same roof." She shook her head, poking at the corners of her eyes in an attempt to halt the flow of tears. She opened the door and stepped out onto the street.

  Adam asked, "Do you want me to come over to take you for the car in the morning?"

  "Would you? Thanks so much." Her face lit up at his suggestion.

  "Call me just as soon as you’re ready—it's no problem."

  Adam waited until she was inside the house, and then felt compelled to wait a little longer. After a few minutes, he saw the lights go out downstairs and the front upstairs light go on. Amanda appeared at the window and closed the curtains.

  "Come on Adam, you’re no better than a peeping Tom," he muttered.

  He started the car and drove to the end of the street, discovering it was a dead end. He did a U-turn, slowing down as he passed the house again.

  A movement in Amanda's garden caught his eye and his stomach lurched. A man dressed in black with a dark hood covering his face, was standing at the side of the path underneath the trees. He was looking up at Amanda's bedroom window.

  Adam's headlights caught the prowler's attention and made him turn to face Adam before he ran through the garden down the side of the house.

  In the time it took Adam to park the car and get out, the guy was long gone. After searching the back garden, he returned to the street. In two minds whether to contact Amanda or not, he decided on the latter. Instead, he rang through to the station requesting a patrol car to keep an eye on her house.

  Chapter 14

  Brian

  "It's almost ready, sweetheart," Brian said as he placed one of the frozen meals into the microwave. Since he’d retired six months ago this had become a daily routine. Barbara made the lunch most days, she always had more energy earlier in the day, but dinner was now his responsibility.

  The microwave dinged, and he replaced the piping hot lasagne package with the frozen one and reset the clock.