Contents ( 71)
- THE
- DAUGHTER
- MICHELLE FRANCES
- PROLOGUE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- SIXTY-THREE
- SIXTY-FOUR
- EPILOGUE
- AUTHOR’S NOTE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
‘But you heard what the police said. There’s no proof, no direct link to anyone. And we couldn’t tell them of anyone we suspected.’
Kate groaned. ‘If only we still had Becky’s laptop . . .’ She suddenly banged her forehead with her fist. ‘I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid.’
‘What?’
‘The break-in. Last year. It wasn’t those scally kids we thought it was. It was them. They took Becky’s laptop. That’s all they wanted. To know what she was working on.’
‘I guess it’s possible . . .’
‘He knows,’ said Kate, fiercely.
‘What?’
‘Justin Holmes. The farm manager. He knows who owns the farm he works on, but he won’t tell me.’
Tim put his arms on her shoulders. ‘I know but—’
‘Oh my God!’ Kate pushed his hands away. ‘I’ve just remembered.’
‘What?’
‘That man. The one with the moustache that I saw in Ramsbourne. I’d seen him before, remember? Only I couldn’t recall where.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It was outside the court. The day of Becky’s inquest. He was there, Tim, right there, talking to the driver’s solicitor.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘They’re connected. They must be. He has something to do with this.’
‘Do with this, how?’
‘I don’t know. I just don’t know, Tim.’ Kate suddenly found herself crumpling, sucker punched by these new revelations. ‘Maybe we should tell the police.’
‘Tell them what? A bad man we don’t know is up to something, but we don’t know what?’ Tim sat beside her. ‘You need to get rid of all your evidence,’ he said, gently. ‘I can help you. You need to tell those people in Ramsbourne, too.’
Kate frowned. ‘Tell them what?’
‘That you’re quitting.’
‘What?’
‘Well, you’re not going to carry on, are you?’
‘I don’t know. I mean, it’s not just about me.’
‘Hold on. You suspect Becky was deliberately got out of the way because she was trying to expose a story and now they know you’re working on the same story – worse, you want to sue them – and you want to carry on? Are you mad?’ Frustrated, Tim rubbed his eyes. ‘They’re not joking, these people. They’re dangerous. And now they know exactly what you’re doing. They’ve read your files – they know everything.’
‘Not everything. I didn’t keep the names of the villagers on there.’ In fact, like Becky, she’d kept them on a separate memory stick and hidden it in a plastic bag in the bird box in the garden instead. She’d bought it when Becky was five but, to their disappointment, not one bird had ever nested in it. Now it held treasure of another sort.
‘They know plenty.’
Kate suddenly leapt up and went into the living room, frantically searching the message on her computer screen. ‘There’s got to be a clue on here. Something.’
Tim was right behind her. ‘There’s nothing.’
‘Here!’ said Kate. ‘It was sent at twenty past four this afternoon.’
‘What does that tell you?’
It was when she’d been standing at the bus stop waiting for Tim. It reminded her that she’d missed him.