ON DEVIL'S BRAE (A Psychological Suspense Thriller) (Dark Minds Mystery Suspense) (6 page)

She tackled the bathroom last. The mirror above the basin was speckled with iron mould and had a crack running down one corner. She had bought a replacement but needed a hefty screwdriver to take the old one down. Not wanting to get in the car and drive to the nearest town, she decided to leave it for another day. By then, she would most probably have a list of essentials she had forgotten. A handyman about the place would have been good, but Cassandra was used to doing things on her own. Besides, handymen often brought along their own share of problems, and those she could do without. She paused as an image of Angus flashed across her mind. She wouldn’t have minded seeing him in tight jeans and wielding a hefty screwdriver, sweaty and smelling of man. The memory of the line of his jaw, his five-o’clock shadow, and sensuous mouth made her heart thud in her chest.
Crikey, girl, you’ve only met him once, and you’ve got it bad!

Thinking of men reminded Cassandra she hadn’t rang her friend, Julian, since her arrival. Julian was a university lecturer, whom she had known for years. She couldn’t quite remember how they met—she thought it was at a mutual friend’s party—but he was always in the background. There was nothing between them: no romance beyond a goodnight kiss when they went out together, but he did tend to keep an eye upon her. Julian had his camping weekends, his book-club chums, and a love of hiking. Like Cassandra, he had never walked down the aisle or felt anything was missing. Cassandra wondered if he preferred men, but despite knowing Julian all those years, she had never dared ask. She assumed it was a reticence she had inherited from her parents.

Cassandra promised she would ring as soon as she reached Inverdarroch, but for some reason she kept putting it off. Like Cynthia and Rosie, Julian considered her move to the Highlands way over the top and told her she was batty even considering it.

“Cassandra, you’ll never cope. One week in a draughty cottage with no mod cons, and you’ll be climbing the walls,” he had vented a few days earlier.

Cassandra laughed. “For heaven’s sake, you’re as bad as the terrible twins. I’ve coped living on my own for over twenty years, and the place has running water, electricity, and a massive fireplace for heat. What more do I need? There’s a telephone, which I’ve yet to have connected. Besides, I have my mobile.”

“Ah, but is there a reliable signal? Inver-whatever-it’s-called is in the back of beyond. I looked it up on Google maps. It’s nothing but a blip on the landscape.”

Cassandra suppressed a sigh, knowing Julian’s real problem was that she hadn’t invited him over—not during one of her earlier weekend visits nor for this extended stay. She knew he would find fault with her disappearing for weeks or months. He would say she was running away and not facing up to her problems.

“Perhaps it’s one of the reasons I want to be there,” Cassandra replied in a calmer voice than she felt. Knowing full well it was true. News reporters or scandalmongers wouldn’t have heard of her in a remote part of Scotland, and there was a chance they hadn’t heard about Susan either. The more she considered the idea, the more attractive it was.

While Julian tutted and complained, she gave in. “Look. Give me a few weeks or whatever, and I’ll invite you up for the weekend. I want to get the place looking reasonably decent first. Yes, I know you’ll help.” She held up a hand, palm upwards, warding off his argument. “But I want to do this on my own. It’ll be good therapy.” She didn’t dare tell him her flat was no longer her sanctuary. Once people linked her to Susan and found out where she lived, Cassandra hated the place. In a fit of pique, she had been on the verge of ringing the estate agent and putting it on the market, but something held her back. She would give it another six months, after which everything would have died down, and then she would move house.

“All right, have it your way. I’ll give you a week on your own, and then I’m coming up. No arguments.”

***

Taking a rest from cleaning, Cassandra rang Julian and was surprised how easily the conversation went. She was expecting a lecture, but instead, he was good-humoured and genial, joking over her new yokel life and how he was expecting her to have a Scottish burr when he visited. Afterwards, she made a sandwich for lunch and sat by a newly lit fire. The warmth made her drowsy and relaxed as she stared into the leaping tongues of flame. Before she knew it, Cassandra was nodding off, her daydreams taking her back to the year before.

Chapter 10 Liverpool 2012

For the past few months she had been feeling anger directed at almost everything. How could the system have let Natalie Hodges down? Why was it women like Stacy met such loutish oafs and allowed themselves to become drudges to them? Down-trodden, bullied, and often abused. Moreover, why did these women marry these ill-mannered men?

During her time spent with the Hodges family, Susan learnt a thing or two about them. She told Cassandra how Stacy first met Wayne when she already had Natalie in tow. She had two more children by him: the toddler, Darren, and the new baby.
Why?
Susan asked Cassandra.
Why did these women give in to men, who disliked and often never accepted another man’s child?
Cassandra agreed, although she had never had any personal experience. As Susan talked and they spent more time together, Cassandra suddenly realised her sister not only disliked and distrusted Wayne Hodges, but she felt contempt for men in general. Was this why she was single?

Susan eventually blurted out to Cassandra how she first noticed the bruises on her second visit to the house. Stacy Hodges lived on a small social-housing estate, Pentland Park. Cassandra knew of the place and thought despite the change of name from council house to social housing, it did nothing to dispel the usual soulless construction. Within five years, it had a rundown, desolate look. It wasn’t as bad as the high-rise blocks of flats, but even so, she would have hated living there: every house the same, miles of concrete, little green areas, and few trees.

Susan paused, stubbing out one cigarette and immediately lighting another. Her hands shook, and she fiddled with her hair as she told Cassandra her story. Stacy Hodges had eventually come to the door; she couldn’t ignore the knocking for ever. She held her newborn in her arms and grudgingly let Susan in. She followed the woman into the living room and saw that her other two children, Darren and Natalie, were playing quietly on the floor with some plastic bricks. The older child was patiently showing her younger brother how to build the walls of a house. Both children were wearing clean clothes, their hair and faces looking as if they had been freshly scrubbed. Stacy appeared to be coping well with the latest addition to the family.

The eldest, Natalie, looked at her mother and then gave Susan a shy smile.

“I suppose you’d like some tea,” Stacy asked, after putting the baby down in a carrycot on the floor.

“Let me get it for you. I don’t want to take up too much of your time, and I’m sure you have plenty to do. I want to take a few more photographs of Natalie, if you don’t mind,” Susan replied.

“There’s no need. The baby’s been fed and changed. I was going to make one anyway. Put my feet up while I read a story to them two. Go ahead with your pictures.” She nodded in the children’s direction before leaving the room. “Now, you kids, just behave while I’m in the kitchen, and don’t wake the baby with your noise.”

Susan walked farther into the room and glanced around. It looked clean and tidy; the furniture was cheap but serviceable. After a few seconds, the boy followed his mother from the room while the older child carried on playing. She seemed perfectly content, as she had when
Susan saw her last: well-cared for, unobtrusive but alert, placid, and obedient. Stacy was lucky; many children were noisy and wilful. Susan got out her camera and adjusted the lens. The child’s position on the floor was perfect for what she had in mind. She asked Natalie what she was making, and the girl replied she was making a house. She held up her bricks for Susan to see. Susan stared at where the sleeve of her cardigan slipped down her arm, revealing a large blue-black-and-yellow bruise.

She mentioned it to Stacy, who said Natalie hit it against the metal bars when she was playing on the swing in the park.

“Isn’t that right, Nat?”

Natalie turned her pale-grey eyes to Susan and nodded, her ponytail flicking from side to side.

Susan shrugged and let it pass; it wasn’t her business to interfere. What did she know about children, anyway? She glanced across to the baby, who looked as pink and healthy as she would have expected a bonny baby to be. The toddler, Darren, was cheeky and smiling as he leant relaxed against his mother’s knee. Apart from the niggle of Natalie’s bruising, everything appeared fine…

Susan mentioned other occasions…other echoes. Natalie was off school during Susan’s next visit; there was a plaster on her temple covering stitches…a fall from the roundabout. This playground sounded lethal. When neither parent was in the room, Susan asked Natalie what had happened, and the girl gave a clear explanation of the accident, perfectly matching the versions of her father and mother.

Cassandra had wondered about Wayne Hodges when Susan relayed all this to her. Susan said he was a rough-speaking, lager-swilling, cigarette-smoking lout. He always dressed in pale jeans and a sleeveless shirt, exposing his wiry muscled arms with entwined snake tattoos. Cassandra accompanied Susan on one occasion, when Susan wanted some close-ups of Natalie. She persuaded Cassandra to accompany her by saying her photographs were legendary. When Cassandra met the father, she disliked his shaven head and gold earrings, a chain hanging from his belt, and the air of violence which seemed to hang around him. He oozed aggression when his eyes met hers, and it took a great deal of willpower not to shudder with instant dislike. She vowed not to go with Susan again.

Susan was suspicious and confessed as much to Cassandra. She admitted she made casual enquiries at the school and playground. “Wayne Hodges? He’s a great father. Loves playing with the kiddies and is always ready to play footie or help out with swimming practice. He’ll pick up from school if you’re stuck and never complains he’s being used. Everyone loves him.” Except Susan and Cassandra, who had their doubts.

On Susan’s last visit, when she was dropping off a set of the photographs as a present, Natalie was off school again. The girl wandered into the hallway, a teddy-bear clutched tightly to her chest. Her face was pretty and pale, her mid-brown hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. She went to stand next to her mother, fiddling with the cloth of her nightie, her nails bitten down to the quick. She didn’t say a word, but stared at the television her brother was watching in the adjoining room, the sound down low.

Susan asked her a question, and the child glanced at her mother before answering. Her father was banging around upstairs. Stacy nodded and smiled. Natalie turned back to Susan, her movement causing her nightdress to rise, and Susan saw with horror the pale blisters down her leg. Blisters caused from cigarette burns…

Chapter 11 January2013, Inverdarroch

Cassandra jerked awake with a start. Pushing aside her disturbing dreams, she sat up, and the plate slipped from her lap onto the floor. She needed to go out, get some air in her lungs. Rid herself of the memories. The inquest had come and gone, the verdict had been manslaughter. Wayne Hodges shouted his innocence as he was taken into custody. The post-mortem report was read slowly and quietly from the coroner. “It was a pitiless action from a callous man, who filled the last three years of Natalie Hodge’s life with suffering.”

She thought back to his words when he carried on, and Cassandra felt stunned and lifeless as she listened from her seat in the gallery. “In the circumstances, social services could not have done any more than they did. The child could not have been removed from her home, for legal or justifiable reasons.”

There was more, but Cassandra hardly took it all in. When she glanced across at Susan’s white face, she felt like weeping. Rosie took her hand and whispered. “See. There was nothing more anyone could have done. There’s nothing Susan or you could have done to prevent that little girl’s death.”

Chapter 12 January 2013, Inverdarroch

The view from the hill was wonderful. The air was crystal clear, rarefied, and felt soft against her cheek. Cassandra adjusted the lens of her camera and shot off another dozen photographs. Pleased with the day’s light, she was sure she had captured something special. She switched off the camera and slipped it back into its case. While she stood and breathed in deeply, Cassandra suddenly felt she was being watched. It was like the last time. She turned and looked all around her, but there was no one there. Her senses told her differently. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as she looked towards an outcrop of rocks, and there he was. Unmoving and featureless, dressed in dark clothes: coat, hat, trousers. It was exactly like before; he stood as still as the stones lying around. As she stared, she saw he was holding something in his hand. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought it looked like an animal—a rabbit, or hare.

Cassandra paused. Was he real? Or a figment of her imagination? A ghost even? A gust of wind blew down from the mountains beyond, lifting the ends of his black scarf to fly against his face, threatening to loosen the hat from his head. She felt a pulsation in the wind, a gentle thrumming. Mind made up, Cassandra walked towards him, picking her way through the hummocks of dead heather and melting patches of snow. She stumbled as she missed her footing and fell sprawling between piles of rocks. When she sat upright, like before, he had disappeared.