I Will Make You Pay (ARC) Read online

  lour, I watched the change in her eyes. It wasn’t long after

  Alex’s trial. She tilted her head, taking in my new look,

  and there was just this momentary flash of deep sadness.

  ‘Are you shocked, Mum? Do you disapprove horri-

  bly? Because if you don’t want me to do this. The name

  change, I mean. If it’s going to really upset you—’

  ‘It’s fine. The new hair suits you. And if this is what

  you need to do to put that blessed man behind you, then

  it’s fine by me.’

  ‘And you think you can cope? Me using my second

  name? That won’t freak you out too much?’

  And then my mother did that thing with her soft grey

  eyes. The smile that was set deep within them, to try to

  reassure me.

  ‘I’ve watched you lose sleep, Jenny. I’ve watched you

  lose weight. I’ve watched you take those pills for depression to cope with the trial. Don’t think I don’t know about that.

  And the truth? It has broken my heart into pieces, and if I

  could get hold of that man, I wouldn’t be responsible for

  what I might do to him. Leanne is right to have suggested

  this. I chose Alice for your second name because I love it. I can get used it. I will practise. You make a beautiful Alice.’

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  ‘I’m not going to tell them at the new job. I feel so

  bad about that. A journalist, a supposed seeker of the

  truth, starting out with a lie myself … What does that

  make me, Mum?’

  ‘It makes you unlucky. Someone who met a snake, my

  darling. Lots of writers use a different byline. A maiden

  name or whatever. You have good reason. And it’s not a

  made-up name. It’s on your birth certificate. It’s a name

  I chose for you.’

  ‘But do I look different enough from the newspaper

  picture? I’m very afraid they’ll find me out anyway.’

  ‘You look beautiful. My beautiful girl. And the media

  didn’t run much about you.’

  I could feel my lip trembling as she hugged me. I

  still wasn’t at all sure about what I was doing – morally

  or practically – but I didn’t want Alex to win. To put

  an end to my career. To stop me writing. When Leanne

  first suggested changing my name, I thought she was

  mad. I said no – absolutely not. I was sure I would slip

  up, maybe answer the phone as Jenny and be the subject

  of another story. An exposé? But, over time, I just got

  angrier and angrier about Alex, and I didn’t see what

  other option I had.

  New name. Clean page. Fresh start. What did I have

  to lose?

  I was still staying with Leanne when I decided to

  consider her idea. She started calling me Alice to see how

  it went. After a while, it felt OK. And then when – as

  ‘Alice’ – I was offered the new job as a trainee reporter in

  Devon, it suddenly felt doable. Far enough from Scotland

  for stories and contacts not to overlap, hence less likely

  for anyone to find me out. I knew that I would see less of

  Mum and Leanne than in recent times and wondered how

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  I would manage without their support, but it couldn’t be

  more difficult than Scotland in terms of the geography.

  ‘I’ll still phone and visit as much as I can, Mum.’

  ‘Course you will.’

  And then she asked the same question the police had

  kept asking me.

  ‘Are you sure there isn’t anything you haven’t told me,

  darling? About Alex? About how all this dreadful business

  started? He didn’t hurt you ever, did he?’

  ‘No, no.’

  ‘And there wasn’t some trigger? Something that might

  have started—’

  ‘No.’

  I answered too quickly. Too loudly. I felt myself blush.

  I was still tired and weak and overwhelmed. But the truth?

  At night, something new had been bothering me. One very

  private thing. One small, embarrassing and intimate thing

  that I had not yet told the police because I couldn’t bring

  myself to believe that it could have anything to do with

  what had happened. It was too embarrassing. Too personal.

  I had been to counselling and they kept saying over

  and over that I was not to replay events and blame myself.

  That Alex was responsible for his perversion. His lies. His

  behaviour. Not me.

  I had been duped. Tricked. This is not your fault. You

  must not blame yourself.

  But for all the reassurance, I couldn’t help – in the dark

  and silence of the night – still wondering. Picking over

  our time together. I felt so guilty for not seeing through

  Alex when he had the scene with the girl on his phone.

  And this other niggling thing. The other private, per-

  sonal thing that was about Alex but which I had stupidly

  brought up once and it had made him so very upset.

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  I didn’t want to believe that it could have anything

  to do with it all.

  Because if it did? Would that make it my fault after all?

  And was it my responsibility to mention it to the

  police? Even this late in the day …

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  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Matthew

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want a chair, Mel?’

  Matthew watches Melanie Sanders press her hand

  into the small of her back, making her spectacular bump

  protrude even closer to the one-way glass between them

  and the interview room.

  The police station in Scotland is smaller than any

  Matthew served in during his time in the force. It is also

  cleaner and brighter and tidier. He looks at a pinboard on

  the opposite wall with various posters neatly displayed.

  Recent appeals. Helpline numbers.

  Finally Melanie lets out a long sigh. ‘You’re right. I’m

  being stubborn. Trying to put on a show, but the truth is I

  worry that if I sit down, I’ll never get up. Jeez – this baby is in training for the Olympics today. Through there…’

  She points to a small room off the corridor and Matthew

  darts through to collect a chair, watching several eyes in

  the room turn to him in puzzlement.

  ‘I’ve lied,’ she confirms as she slumps on to the chair

  on his return, signalling that he should close the door to

  the corridor. ‘I’ve told them you’re ex-job and that you

  have crucial inside information on this case.’

  ‘But that’s true – not a lie at all.’

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  ‘I might have added that you’re now a respected

  profiler.’

  ‘Profiler? ’

  ‘Yeah. That shut them up.’ She’s smiling. ‘And we all

  know what most of them think about profilers. They’ll

  hopefully just gossip behind your back and leave us alone.’

  They both stare through the glass. Alex is sitting next

  to his solicitor but the interviewer handling the parole

  issue has been replaced by Mel’s colleague Mark Fisher,

  who is to lead the questioning about Alic
e. Alex is already

  certain to be returned to jail for breaking the terms of his

  licence, so has nothing to gain by cooperating.

  Matthew does not expect him to be helpful. He strong-

  ly suspects his brief will have advised him to say nothing

  regarding this second inquiry. Sadly there’s no evidence

  to put to Alex yet so this is just a fishing trip in case they get lucky. Matthew’s hoping he will at least be able to pick

  up something from Alex’s face and general demeanour

  while they wait for his phone to be fully checked.

  ‘So, Alex. Back to jail, then. That wasn’t very clever, was

  it?’ Mark Fisher is a tad careful with his tone as he pauses, before slapping a picture of Alice – or Jenny, as she was –

  on the table. A picture of her with her darker, longer hair.

  Alex Sunningham looks down at the picture and

  Matthew leans closer to the glass to watch his face. Not

  a flicker. Whatever he may be thinking, Alex is careful

  not to give anything away. Damn. He’s good, Matthew thinks. Very good.

  Alongside him, Mel seems to be holding her breath.

  ‘So. Your fiancée. The one who knew absolutely

  nothing about what was going on.’ Mark’s tone is still

  steady. Confident.

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  Alex glances at his solicitor, who is also looking at

  the photograph.

  ‘I find myself wondering how you feel about your

  former fiancée now, Alex? After your time in jail.’

  There’s silence. No reaction at all.

  ‘Because here’s the thing. We think you may have

  been stewing about what’s happened to you these past few

  years. And that you’ve developed some kind of grudge.

  An entirely unfair grudge. Is that true, Alex?’

  Still nothing.

  Matthew turns to Mel, who still appears to be hold-

  ing her breath.

  Mark won’t want to give much away in this early part of

  the interview. Without any evidence, he’s simply goading

  a bit. He will be looking for Alex to dig a hole – to hope-

  fully give away a small detail that he couldn’t know without

  involvement. A starting point for the interview proper. But

  Alex doesn’t even look puzzled. His face is entirely blank.

  ‘Direct question then. Have you made contact or sent

  any message to or had communication of any kind with

  your former fiancée Jennifer Wallace since the court case?

  And most especially since your release from jail.’

  There’s a long pause. Again Alex, expressionless, turns

  to look at his solicitor before turning back to face Mark.

  And then it starts…

  At first Matthew simply can’t believe it. He exchanges

  a glance of astonishment with Mel. And then Matthew

  feels the full irritation and hopelessness of the situation

  as the noise gets louder and louder…

  ‘What the hell is he singing?’ Mel says finally.

  ‘Opera,’ Matthew replies.

  ‘Yes. I can tell it’s bloody opera. I’m not a complete

  philistine.’

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  ‘You need to stop that … right … now.’ Mark keeps

  his expression calm but raises his voice to be heard over

  the singing while Matthew closes his eyes to listen.

  You get quite a bit of singing in police stations. Drunks

  mostly, as they’re led to the cells to sober up. Mostly it’s

  very poor. Out of tune and the lyrics gibberish.

  This is different. This is good. Matthew is surprised by something else too. A flicker of recognition. He listens

  some more, trying desperately to place it. He’s frowning

  as he thinks hard and tries to tune in.

  ‘I’m warning you, Alex, to stop singing right this

  minute. This is a serious situation you’re in.’ Mark then

  turns to the solicitor. ‘Can you please advise your client to stop wilfully obstructing our inquiries and to cooperate

  with this interview.’

  The solicitor shrugs as if there’s nothing he can do.

  ‘Look. If your client doesn’t stop singing, he will be

  taken straight back to his cell until he quietens down.’

  The singing continues…

  ‘He’s quite good, actually,’ Matthew offers, opening

  his eyes.

  ‘Unhelpful, Matt.’ Mel is fidgeting with her wedding

  ring – twisting it round and round, apparently exasperated.

  And then Matthew suddenly recognises it. Yes. The

  lyrics. L’amour, l’amour! … Ah! Lève-toi, soleil…

  ‘This is Romeo and Juliet.’ He feels a ridiculous sense of pride. ‘In French.’

  Melanie turns to him, eyes wide. ‘And so who are

  you suddenly – Inspector Morse?’

  ‘Sally likes opera,’ Matthew offers sheepishly. ‘She’s

  got a recording of this. She doesn’t speak Italian, you

  see. She likes this one because it’s in French. Gounod, I

  think you’ll find.’

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  Melanie shakes her head in astonishment as, inside the

  interview room, Mark announces for the tape that he’s

  pausing the interview to return Alex to his cell until he

  stops singing. A sergeant then appears through the door

  and Alex is accompanied out, still singing at full volume.

  ‘Well, that went well,’ Melanie says finally, then

  stands. ‘Shall we get coffee from the machine? They’ve

  given me use of an office while we wait to hear if there’s

  anything on Alex’s phone. But I rather think we’re

  wasting our time, don’t you? Unless we find any evi-

  dence, we’re snookered. Bet you’re sorry you came all

  this way now.’

  * * *

  In the small office, Melanie has a bulging briefcase with

  notes from Alex’s previous interviews and the court case.

  ‘No videos of the interviews with him last time round?’

  ‘No, just transcripts. I went over them on the flight up.’

  Just then, Mark pokes his head around the door of the

  room. ‘Sorry, Melanie. Didn’t see that coming. A first for

  me. An aria mid-interview.’

  ‘Not your fault, Mark. Take a break. Go get a sand-

  wich. I’m going to go over the notes again. Let’s give it

  an hour. See if the Phantom of the Opera gets bored with

  his cell. If no progress, we’ll let them transfer him back

  to jail and interview him inside once we’ve hopefully

  come up with some evidence.’

  Mark gives them the thumbs up and closes the door.

  ‘He’s a good operator – Mark. Not as good as you of

  course,’ Mel teases. ‘But I don’t think anyone is going to

  get anything out of our Mr Sunningham until we have

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  something concrete to put to him. What a bloody waste

  of everyone’s time.’

  And then Matthew takes a deep breath.

  ‘Romeo and Juliet. Young lovers.’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Mel’s expression is once again pure

  puzzlement.

  ‘I reckon our deluded narcissist is trying to cast himself

  in the role of romantic hero. That’s what Gretna Green

  was about. Why he wants to marry her.’r />
  ‘You kidding me? He seduces a fourteen-year-old and

  thinks casting himself as Romeo will wash?’

  ‘But that’s precisely it. He’s deluded. Which means

  he’s capable of anything. So can I look at the notes? All

  the statements from Alice before the trial.’

  ‘No. Of course you can’t,’ she says – pushing the pile

  of folders towards him and winking. ‘I’ll go make us

  some coffee. See if you can spot anything I’ve missed.

  I couldn’t find anything in the court notes or Alice’s

  statements – or Jenny, as she was then – which suggests a

  motive to target her now. Her part in the trial was pretty

  small actually. It was all about the two girls, especially

  the one he seduced and dumped.’

  Melanie leaves the room, returning after five minutes

  with drinks in large, chipped mugs. For the next hour

  they work together through all the statements and the

  notes on the trial. Matthew is surprised to find reference

  to a third girl. Also just fourteen.

  ‘There was a third victim?’

  Melanie takes in a long breath. ‘You are absolutely not

  supposed to have access to that. But yes. Turns out a third

  girl came forward but she didn’t want to give evidence

  so she was interviewed informally. Same pattern. Alex

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  groomed her, slept with her then dumped her. It was at

  the very time he was getting engaged to Alice.’

  ‘What a snake.’

  ‘The team decided not to push her. They had enough

  to nail him without her evidence.’

  Matthew continues through the many sheets, ap-

  palled at the bitter coffee and wishing they had time to

  pop out for a decent one. It’s only after some forty-five

  minutes that he puts the trial notes and statements aside

  and scours through the files for any additional material

  involving Alice.

  And it’s then he comes across a single sheet of paper

  folded within one of the old files of statements. The date

  is odd. It is some time after Alex was arrested and charged.

  Matthew smooths the paper to read half a dozen para-

  graphs. It’s the record of a short conversation with Alice

  – then Jenny – at a London police station. She’d turned

  up to give some voluntary additional information to be

  passed on to the police in Scotland, stressing that she didn’t want Alex to be made aware she’d said this. He reads it

  carefully. There is a stamp to confirm it was referred to