Spider's Web (19 page)

Jim handed her a wad of tissue. ‘Here. Press that to it.’

She did so bemusedly. Her gaze returned to Emily. ‘I feel like I’m fifteen years old again and I’m waiting for Jessica at the school gates to walk home with her.’ Her voice was quiet and distant. She shook her head and returned to the present. ‘Who is she?’

‘Her name’s Emily Walsh. She’s fifteen years old and supposedly the only living child of Ronald and Sharon Walsh.’

‘What do you mean, “supposedly the only living child”?’

‘The Walshes had a son. Gavin. You know him better as Spider.’

As Jim filled Anna in on Gavin Walsh’s short life and its seemingly violent end, her eyes followed Emily as if afraid of losing sight of her. Waving goodbye to the boy, Emily approached a group of girls at a bus stop. The girls were laughing and making kissy faces at her. It was only gentle teasing, but still Anna had a sudden almost overwhelming urge to jump out of the car and yell at them to leave Jessica alone. No, not Jessica. Emily. The girl’s name was Emily.
Leave Emily alone, you little bitches!
‘You realise what this means, don’t you?’ she said, trembling with barely contained emotion. ‘If Emily’s fifteen, she was born in 1998. Jessica was taken in February 1993. So Spider—’ She paused to correct herself. ‘Gavin Walsh must have kept her alive for at least five years. And if he kept her alive for that long, maybe she’s still alive.’

All Jim’s years on the job suggested such a thing was out of the question. And yet there was no denying the logic of Anna’s words. The possibility hinged on one as yet unknown factor. ‘That’s assuming Emily really is your sister’s daughter.’

‘Of course she fucking is!’ Anna retorted with total conviction. ‘Look at her. Look at her hair, her eyes, her build. She’s all Jessica.’

‘Not according to her birth certificate or the records of Queen’s Medical Centre.’

‘Then they’re fakes. Just like William Keyes and Clotho Daeja are fakes. You said Ronald Walsh worked for a Birmingham gangster. He must have all sorts of contacts who know how to fake identities. He obviously helped his son to disappear back in ’87. And that’s another thing. Ronald and Sharon must be far too old by now to have such a young daughter.’

‘I think you’re right. The problem is proving it.’

‘Where’s the problem? All we have to do is get a sample of Emily’s DNA and match it to my sister’s.’

‘We need a court order for a DNA test. And we’re not going to get a court order based on Emily looking like Jessica.’

‘Fuck a court order. I’ll get a sample myself.’

‘How?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe I’ll break into her bedroom, steal her hairbrush.’

‘I can’t let you do that. We need to do this by the book and make sure any evidence we gather is admissible in court.’

Anna looked at Jim incredulously. ‘You didn’t seem to mind bending the rules when you came to me for help.’

‘That was then. I was desperate. The investigation was dead. Things are moving now. A search warrant was granted today for Villiers’ house.’

‘How does that help me? How does it help Jessica?’

‘If we can nail Villiers, he might give up his accomplices.’

‘But that’s going to take time. Time my sister doesn’t have. Don’t you see? Gavin Walsh probably already knows you’re onto his parents. If he thinks you’re getting too close to him, he could kill Jessica.’

‘Would he, though? If you’re right, Gavin’s kept your sister alive for twenty years. He’s fed her, clothed her. You don’t do that unless you have some sort of deep attachment to someone. And don’t forget, Gavin left the Cowper Road house in 2007, possibly because he feared discovery. According to your theory, he must have moved Jessica with him. If he did it once, what’s to stop him doing it again? Look, all I want is for you to hold off for a few days. We might get a hit on the skeleton’s DNA that leads to something. Or we might find something that proves Emily Walsh’s birth records were falsified.’

Anna stared at her bleeding hand, her face screwed up with uncertainty. ‘Do you think Emily knows the truth?’

‘Would you trust a child with a secret like that?’

The uncertainty left Anna’s face. She reached suddenly for the door handle. ‘Where are you going?’ asked Jim.

‘I’m gonna talk to her.’

Jim caught hold of Anna’s arm. ‘That’s not a good idea.’

Anna looked at him with eyes as raw as the cut on her palm. ‘Why the fuck did you bring me here if you were just going to ask me to do nothing?’

‘Because you have a right to know what the score is.’

Anna stabbed a finger in Emily’s direction. ‘So does she. What if she’s in danger? What if Gavin Walsh turned out like he did because his parents abused him? And what if they’re doing the same to Emily?’

‘I don’t think that’s the case.’

‘How can you know that?’

‘I can’t,’ admitted Jim. ‘All I can go on is what I see. And I don’t see any pain in her eyes.’

Anna gave a dismissive hiss. ‘Some kids are better at hiding pain than others,’ she said with the conviction of experience. ‘We need to get her away from them.’

‘We don’t have any right.’

‘She’s my niece. I have every right.’

‘What if she won’t listen to you?’

A caustic gleam came into Anna’s eyes. ‘Maybe I’ll kidnap her.’

Jim frowned at her. Was she being serious? He couldn’t tell. ‘Don’t even joke—’ he started to say, but broke off as Anna jerked her arm free. A bus had pulled up at the bus stop. She jumped out the car and, prompting a chorus of horns, sprinted across two lanes of traffic towards it. He made to follow her, but a van blocked his way. As he dodged around it, he saw Anna boarding the bus. The doors hissed shut and the bus accelerated away. Swearing under his breath, he darted back to his car and set off in pursuit.

11

Emily made her way to the back of the bus and sat down between her friends. ‘Are you coming to the shops?’ asked one of them.

Emily shook her head. ‘I promised my parents I’d go straight home today.’

‘Aw, go on, Emily. Tell them the bus broke down or something.’

Emily hesitated to reply. Normally she would have given in to her friends, but her parents had been so serious and insistent. Not only had they made her promise to come straight home, they’d also made her promise not to talk to any strangers along the way. ‘Why would I talk to any strangers?’ she’d asked. She’d got no answer other than a repeated insistence that she made the promises they wanted to hear. Her dad had even threatened to keep her home if she didn’t do so. His expression had been both pleading and angry. Another question had come to her lips. ‘What’s going on?’

To which her dad had exploded, ‘Fucking hell, for once will you just do as I say without asking questions!’

She’d never heard him swear like that before. It had weirded her out. Even scared her a little. Tears had started into her eyes. Her dad had stroked her hair then and said gently, ‘I’m sorry for shouting, Emily. It’s just that I’m worried about you. You’re growing up so fast. Too fast. Sometimes I look at you and wonder where my little girl’s gone.’

It had seemed obvious to Emily from his words what they were worried about. Boys. There was a lad at school she’d been seeing on and off for some time. She’d written about him in her diary. Had they sneaked a look at it? The possibility had been irritating her all day. But she was in two minds over whether to confront them about it. She didn’t want to unnecessarily open a can of worms. They were a lot older than her friends’ parents. And their views matched their age. They’d made it abundantly clear that they didn’t approve of teenage romance.

As Emily mulled over what to do, both in regards to the shops and her parents, she noticed a woman looking at her. The woman had dashed onto the bus at the last second. There were no seats left, so she was standing in the aisle, facing the back of the bus. She was wiry-thin with short blonde hair that looked as though it needed a wash and grey eyes – eyes that were fixed on Emily with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. Emily dropped her eyes briefly, then looked up. The woman was still watching her.

‘That woman’s staring at you,’ said one of Emily’s friends.

‘Do you know her?’ asked another.

Emily pouted in thought. Now that her friends mentioned it, there was something vaguely familiar about the woman’s face, but she couldn’t place what it was. Maybe she’d seen her somewhere before. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Well, she’s looking at you like she knows you.’

‘Maybe she fancies you.’

Emily’s friends laughed. Blinking, she lowered her gaze again. Her thoughts returned to her parents. Maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe it was this woman who was somehow worrying them. The bus pulled in at a stop. Several people disembarked. The woman took one of the vacated seats and sat staring out the window. Emily’s friends resumed trying to convince her to go to the shops. She shook her head. She had a sudden urge to get home and make sure her parents were OK.

When the bus reached Emily’s stop, she somewhat uneasily said goodbye to her friends. It was only a short walk to her house, but she didn’t particularly feel like making it alone. She noted with relief that the woman showed no sign of standing to get off. As she passed her, she flicked her a look. She’d thought the woman was in her twenties, but up close she looked older. There were lines under her eyes and where her bony cheeks pinched in to meet her mouth. Her eyes rose to Emily’s. Emily was struck once again by the recognition that seemed to gleam in them. But even more unsettling was the need she saw. It was as if the woman was barely restraining herself from grabbing hold of her. Emily flinched from her gaze and hurried to the exit. As the bus continued on its way, her friends knocked on the window to catch her attention and pointed animatedly at something behind her.

‘Emily.’

The voice was female with a broad Yorkshire accent. She threw a glance over her shoulder and her heart quickened. The woman had followed her off the bus. And she knew her name! She felt certain then that this woman was the cause of her parents’ strange behaviour. But who was she? And what did she want? She was half tempted to fire off the questions, but then she noticed something that made her heart beat even faster. In one hand the woman was clutching what appeared to be a bloodstained tissue. Whose blood was it? Her own or someone else’s? A vision suddenly came to Emily of her parents laid on the living-room floor covered in blood. She broke into a half-run.

‘Emily,’ the woman called again. ‘Wait. I need to talk to you.’

Emily ignored her, hoping she would go away. She heard an onrushing of footsteps. A hand encircled her upper arm. ‘Let go!’ she yelled. ‘Or I’ll scream.’

The woman released her. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. Please, I swear I only want to help you.’ There was a desperate need to be believed in her voice.

Emily turned to face the woman, curiosity partially overcoming her anxiety. ‘Why would I need your help?’

‘My name’s Anna Young.’

‘Yeah, so? Am I supposed to know who you are?’

Anna shook her head. ‘We don’t have much time.’ She pulled out a phone and showed it to Emily. Its screen displayed a drawing of a man with a round face, dark-brown eyes and hair. ‘Do you recognise him?’

Emily’s eyebrows tightened. She’d seen photos of her mum from when she was young, and the drawing instantly reminded her of them. The thought came to her. Was this woman a cop? She didn’t look like one. But then again, what did a cop look like? She’d never had any contact with the police. Nor to her knowledge had her parents. Were they in trouble with them? She found it almost impossible to believe. They were so strait-laced. So boringly honest. And yet, thinking back on it, her dad’s reaction to her questions seemed to suggest just that. She warily shook her head. If her parents were in some kind of trouble, she wasn’t about to help the police get them.

‘His name’s Gavin Walsh,’ continued Anna.

‘Gavin Walsh? You mean like he’s related to me?’

‘He’s your brother.’

Her face puckering incredulously, Emily shook her head. ‘I’m an only child.’

‘You’re wrong. Gavin Walsh was born in Birmingham in 1968 and was supposedly murdered there in 1987.’

‘Murdered?’ Emily took a step backwards, unnerved by the word.

‘By the brothers of a girl he raped. Only he wasn’t murdered. He fled Birmingham and assumed a new identity.’

Emily shook her head again, more vehemently. ‘You’ve made a mistake or you’re lying.’

Sympathy softened Anna’s voice. ‘I’m sorry, Emily, I realise how difficult this must—’ She broke off at the sound of a car pulling in sharply alongside them. Urgency replaced the sympathy. ‘Listen to me, Emily. You’re in danger.’

Emily’s eyes darted past Anna. A man in a crumpled grey suit was getting out of the car. He was heavily built with deep-set brown eyes and a salt-and-pepper moustache. He didn’t look happy. She took several more quick backwards steps. What the fuck was this? Were they going to force her into the car?

‘Please, Emily,’ continued Anna. ‘Your parents aren’t what they seem.’

‘What do you mean?’ Emily’s voice was trembling, close to tears.

‘They’re not who—’

‘Anna!’ shouted the man. ‘That’s enough.’

Emily turned to run, but Anna sprang forward to grab her again. ‘You can’t go back to them.’ Her eyes were bulging. ‘I won’t let you.’

‘You’re crazy! I’ll call the police!’

Emily tried to wrench her arm free. This time Anna didn’t let go. She jerked her chin at the man. ‘He is the police. If you don’t believe me, ask him about your so-called parents and—’

‘I said, that’s enough,’ he interrupted again, catching hold of Anna’s hand and prising it off Emily.

The instant she was free, Emily ran for home. Her satchel came open and a book fell out. She didn’t stop to pick it up. She didn’t look back until the house came into sight. The woman – what had she said her name was? Anna Young. Anna and the supposed policeman were nowhere to be seen. Breathing hard, Emily shoved her key into the front door. Slamming doors behind herself, she ran upstairs and fell face first onto her bed. Her mind was whirling like an out-of-control fairground ride. Anna’s parting shot still seemed to echo in her ears.
Ask him about your so-called parents.
Had she been suggesting that they weren’t really her parents? And what about all the other things she’d said? Was it possible they were true? Or was she just some madwoman?