Lee Weeks - Frozen Grave

‘Yes. I’m going to look after you. We only need one another. You’ll see.’

Emily reached an arm down to help him up. He got wearily to his feet.

‘Okay. We can make it. You ready, JJ?’

‘I’m ready.’

He gripped her tightly and drove her forward over the edge of the cliff and the quarry filled with screams. There was a cracking sound in the middle of the deepest of the three lakes at the base of the quarry. The moon shone down on Ellerman lying on the top of the frozen surface as it slowly cracked around him. His eyes were open. His skull was smashed – blood leaked warm onto the frozen surface. Emily moved once, a spasm, then she sank with him into the black water.

Smith was in the cells by the time Carter and Willis got back from Devon. Carter and Willis stood outside the interview room.

‘What’s going to happen, guv?’

‘We have all we need to convict Balik of Olivia Grantham’s murder.’

‘What about Smith’s sister, Emily?’ Willis looked at him incredulously. ‘She murdered the women.’

‘We don’t know if it was her or Ellerman setting others up to do it and transporting them in his car. We have yet to find that out. Maybe we never will.’

‘Pretty sure it was Emily: she taught Toffee to use the Internet, she had access to the PCs used to message Harding and the others.’

‘Yeah, but I understand how things went wrong for her. I can see that she was a good person, just deceived one too many times. She needed help along the way when she didn’t get it. She found it in someone like Ellerman,’ said Carter. ‘Ellerman was the root of all this.’

‘Guv?’

We convict Balik, job done. Ellerman got what he deserved.’

‘Case isn’t closed.’

‘No, case isn’t closed, but I’m satisfied with the outcome.’

‘What are we going to do with Smith?’

‘He hasn’t done anything wrong as far as I can see. He may be a twat but he hasn’t done anything we can convict him of. He’s lost his sister, that’s enough.’

In the morning, Alison parked her car as she always did on a weekday and got out and opened the rear door. She took out her coat, put it on and picked up her backpack and then she saw the dog limping out from behind the arch. She put her hand to her mouth to stifle a cry. The dog’s eye was gone. It had massive wounds over its body. The skin was so ripped that she could see the bone of its shoulder. She stood there, watching as it limped towards her.

‘Oh, my God.’ She swallowed as the emotion stuck in her throat. The dog was coming towards her with a purpose. It could hardly walk but it was focussng on her and it kept coming. Alison looked around the car park but there was no one there to help. There was a homeless girl watching from the far side, her shawl wrapped around her head. She was staring but not moving.

Alison stood absolutely still as she watched the dog drag itself towards her and then she took a step towards it.

Sandy couldn’t stand upright. Her balance was gone but she knew she had to reach the woman who gave her the food. She knew if there was one more task she had to do before she gave up, it was to try to save her master. She kept her eyes on the woman and limped towards her.

The dog continued to come forward. Alison took two more steps towards it and stopped. The dog turned and waited for her to follow. It limped back towards the far side of the arch and she followed. As she came level, she saw a man; he was shaking with fever and his face was mottled and swollen around deep cuts.

The dog collapsed by her master. Alison took out her phone and dialled for an ambulance.

Willis stared at the photos onscreen as she dialled a number.

‘Hello?’

‘Hello.’ There was a slight time delay on the line. ‘Is this Eddie?’

‘Yes, speaking. I know who this is… this is Ebony, right? I got your email. I’ve been sat by this phone ever since. How are you doing?’

‘I’m okay…’

‘Thank you for the photos in the email. I could not believe it when I received them.’

‘Sorry – it must have been a big shock. Not the kind of thing you think will happen.’

‘No, not a shock, but it was a great surprise. It’s not every day you find out you have a twenty-four-year-old daughter that you never knew about.’

‘She never told you, did she?’

‘No, I was young. I probably wouldn’t have been much use but I would have done my best by you. I would have loved to have had a daughter. Well – it’s never too late, huh? You will meet my sons and see how much you look like them; you’re tall, right?’

‘Yes. Five ten.’

‘Just like me. My boys are both way over six foot.’ Willis had a sudden urge to cry with happiness.

‘But, Ebony – your mother. I read about the problems. She will stay in hospital, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. She’s a very sick woman. I am sorry for the life you must have had with her.’

‘Yes.’

‘You live in London now?’

‘Yes, north London.’

‘Have you ever been to Jamaica?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Ah… you will love it.’

In April, the air had a sweetness to it. The quarry was a leafy green place.

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ Harding called down to Megan as she made her way down the side of the quarry in the spring sunshine.

‘I left you sleeping.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m just tending my husband’s grave.’

Harding reached her and hugged her.

‘Did he jump off here?’

‘No. He couldn’t bring himself to end it. After the cremation, I scattered his ashes in here. I feel close to him here.’

‘I’m sorry to disturb you.’

‘Not at all. I was talking to him about you.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I said I feel happy for the first time since I lost him.’

Fifi and Esme had matching white cotton dresses on. Paula had dressed them for the big day. They had bought the dresses in the market in Marbella. The girls had wanted flamenco outfits but Paula had said no – she explained that if they were to make Spain their home, they needed to give respect to the people that lived there. After all, Paula wouldn’t only be cutting expats’ hair. She would be opening the salon to everyone. It was the beginning of her dream. Over the door, the salon’s name shone in bright red letters: Truer Colours.

Paula smiled as she wiped away a tear and pulled her girls close to her side and lifted her glass of sangria as a toast.

‘To the future,’ said a voice from her side. Dee Ellerman gave Paula a hug as she came close. ‘Mike?’ Dee turned to usher forward the man standing at the edge of the pavement admiring his handiwork. He was proud of the shop front. It had been a challenge.

‘From gardener to builder, Mike.’ Dee said proudly. ‘You can be whoever you want to be.’

Thank you to so many people who gave their time and expertise generously and listened to my ideas for stories: Aengus Little, Carolyn Stephens, Neil Rickard, Dave Willis, Becky Long. All of whom are so important to the process of story writing for me.

Thanks to the usual suspects of friends and family who have to listen to my ideas time and time again and are invaluable in the development stage and the despondent stage and the gone completely mad stage.

To Della and the team at True Colours.

The teams: my agent, Darley Anderson, and his hard working women who take it personally if you don’t buy my books, and the dedicated staff at Simon & Schuster. Massive thanks to them all.