Page 44 of The Girl in the Grave
As she pulled into the cemetery gates she saw a familiar face smiling back at her from a car exiting the cemetery. Phil pulled alongside and put the window down, looking unusually smart in a black suit and tie.
‘Hey! Are you coming to the pub again tomorrow night, or did the happy couple put you off for life?’
She laughed. ‘Who, Audrey and Bob? I think they’re sweet actually and yes, I think I will. I enjoyed myself. Were you at a funeral?’
He shrugged. ‘Yeah, my friend’s dad sadly passed last week. I’ve just been to visit his grave and say goodbye, I couldn’t make it to the funeral.’ ‘Sorry to hear that, it’s tough. You don’t ever want to have to say goodbye to a loved one, no matter how old they are. Look, I’m sorry but I need to get on, it’s a work thing. I just needed to check something out. I’ll see you tomorrow? Take care, Phil.’
He smiled at her, but it wasn’t his usual cheery smile. He looked sad. As she drove away she realised she knew very little about him and hoped that he wasn’t going home to an empty house.
Driving up the hill, she reached the chapel and parked next to the rusted fencing. It was so peaceful here. She spotted a marble memorial bench near to the still-open grave and walked over to take a seat and think everything through. The bench was dedicated to a woman named Gail O’Neill, which sounded familiar to Beth. Wondering where she knew it from, she realised it was the name of a local PCSO who’d died from cancer far too young last year. She had spoken to her a couple of times, and what she remembered most about her was her kindness; nothing had ever been too much trouble for her. The world needed more people like that, more happiness.
She stared at the open grave a few feet away from her. All that remained of what horrors they’d discovered here was the blue and white police tape that had been wrapped around either side of the graves, and the neat mound of soil next to it which had been sieved by the forensic anthropologist to make sure all the evidence had been collected. She wondered when Florence Wright was going to be reburied. Would Florence’s family even want her to go back in there? If a body had been found underneath her own mum’s coffin, she wasn’t sure she’d want her to go back into the same hole. Not that it really mattered, she supposed, they were both dead.
Beth inhaled deeply then released her breath. She did this three times. Abe called it being mindful and raved about a meditation class he attended once a week. He’d even invited her along several times. Standing up, she wished she’d brought some flowers to lay by the grave for Chantel, but it hadn’t entered her head. She would stop off at the florist’s on the way home and buy a bunch to put on her dining table. Something bright and vibrant, something to make her smile and remember what it was like to be younger and carefree. She decided now was the time to pay a visit to Dalton View Care Home. She wanted to know more about the girl that no one seemed to care about except for her and Josh.
Fifty-Nine
Happy with his little gift, he crept back through the bushes just as a police van rounded the bend. He crouched down, heart pounding in his chest, a sheen of perspiration prickling his forehead as he pretended to search for something in the long grass around him. Stealing a glance at the coppers inside the van he almost laughed out loud when he realised they were too busy talking to each other to notice him. Standing tall, he stepped out onto the road and strolled back down to his car, the terror churning in his stomach quickly changing to a delicious tingle as the fear of getting caught added to the enjoyment of what he was doing. He knew he was taking excessive risks and he hoped she appreciated it. Everything he did was for her. Would she realise this when the time came? Would she appreciate his effort? He liked to think so.
He’d left the gift on her patio table knowing how much she liked to sit there with a large glass of wine and stare at the lake after a long shift. He would do the same if he had that kind of view. It truly was beautiful and such a shame he couldn’t sit there with her. At one point in his life he’d thought that maybe they could, if she’d just give him a chance, but Beth Adams had time for no one but herself and that would be her downfall. It seemed her house was her only real luxury. She drove a nice car, but nothing too extravagant; she dressed nicely but nothing too showy or designer. She never took holidays, preferring to spend the days she had off work pottering around her garden. He’d been watching her for so long he felt as if he knew her better than she probably knew herself…
It was almost time; the watching and the waiting was finally about to pay off and he couldn’t be more excited at the prospect of what lay ahead for him. And Beth.
Sixty
The convoy of police vehicles that drove up to Dean&Sons funeral home was pretty impressive; even Josh thought so and he’d been doing this job a long time. He wished someone had filmed the chief super’s face when the message had come through from Crimestoppers and was delivered in person by Barker. Josh looked at the search warrant next to him on the seat, signed by the Right Honourable Judge Farley. They couldn’t brush this under the carpet, not while there was a chance Annie Potts was still alive.
It was after closing time and the gates were shut and locked. Josh couldn’t deny the buzz he felt in his stomach, and the butterflies; everything he had was depending upon this. He needed enough evidence to bring James Dean in. His car was first in the convoy, behind him was the huge van full of the task force officers who would also conduct the search of the premises. Behind that was the CSI van. It was no surprise to Josh that Carl had phoned in sick, the coward.
Josh pressed the intercom and wondered who was going to answer, hoping it would be Alex. Not that it mattered; he would search every corner and lift every coffin lid if he had to; he wasn’t leaving here empty-handed.
‘Can I help you?’ The voice was male, older than he’d expected.
‘Yes, it’s the police. We have a search warrant to come in and search these premises for evidence which might link to the murder of Chantel Price and/or the disappearance of Annie Potts.’
‘Who are they, and what have they got to do with Dean&Sons?’
Josh resisted the urge to say: ‘You tell me.’ Instead he smiled. ‘If you open the gates and let me and my colleagues through I can explain it fully to you, in person.’
The intercom went quiet. After a minute the gates began to slowly open.
Sam looked at him. ‘Nice one, Josh. Do you think he’s shitting himself?’
‘We’re about to find out.’
He drove through, hoping to God they were going to find something worthwhile that might help break the case, because he had nothing else.
Sixty-One
Dalton View wasn’t at all what Beth had expected. She’d envisioned a sprawling house in its own grounds, a smaller version of Dean&Sons maybe. What she hadn’t expected was the terraced house along one of the busier town centre streets in Kendal. The three-storey house had a glass front door, the lower pane taped up with a piece of cardboard and yellow electricians’ tape. It was open, so she pushed it and walked inside the tiny entrance where there was a two-seater sofa with two teenage girls sat on it listening to music on their phones. Both of them looked her up and down, decided she wasn’t worth bothering about and continued staring down at their phones.
Behind a sliding glass window, two women were staring at her. She smiled at them and began to introduce herself. One of them leaned forward and slid open the glass the tiniest bit. Beth realised they hadn’t heard a word of what she’d just said.
‘Can I help you?’
‘Yes, I hope so.’ She fished a business card from her pocket and passed it to her. The woman read it, then passed it to her colleague. Beth cleared her throat.
‘I’d like to talk to you about one of your former residents, a girl called Chantel Price.’
