‘That would be a corrupt police officer who I uncovered, a certain DCI William Fields, who was taking backhanders from local gangs, tipping them off if the police were onto them, that sort of thing. I almost lost my job over that one, and got a few threats during the investigation as well. Nothing ever happened, but I was pretty nervous for a while, kept looking over my shoulder.’
‘I can imagine he was pretty pissed off with you. I’ll check him out too. And the third one?’
‘A Gosport gang. That was my first serious investigation – I got close to the gang for a few months, gathered all the info I could, which my editor passed on to the police, and they were arrested soon after. It was a pretty big case, it took over my life the whole time I was working on it.’
‘What were they arrested for?’
‘Drug dealing, mainly. There were also robberies, muggings, rapes…’
‘Nice people.’
‘I know. After they were arrested, I wrote a series of articles for the paper, and after that I did one or two investigations a year. Up until Thomas died.’ Maggie was saddened; the death of her nephew four years earlier had changed her life in so many ways, but the day she’d given up being an investigative reporter had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. ‘But these cases are the ones I think could be connected to the letter.’
‘Do you know what happened to the Gosport gang? Hang on a sec.’ Maggie heard mumbling in the background as Sally spoke to someone. ‘Yeah, that can go back on his desk, we’ve finished with it. Oh, and you’d better remove that jewellery, it’s not allowed during working hours.
‘Okay, sorry about that, Mags. New person, wanted to know where to take some files. Where were we?’
‘You asked what happened to the gang,’ Maggie said. She rummaged in the file. ‘Here. I’ve got a newspaper clipping from back then. There were six of them, all sentenced.’ Her eyes skimmed over the names, and she put her hand over her mouth, her breath coming faster as each face flashed up before her.
‘Mags? Are you still there?’
‘Yes. I’m okay, it’s just seeing those names again…’
‘Who were they?’
Maggie scanned the newspaper article and read it aloud. ‘Paul Collins, twenty-one, got seven years. Daniel Barnes, twenty-two, got six years. Mark Wilson, twenty-two, got seven years. Peter Spencer, twenty-two, got twelve years. Adam Hayes, twenty-one, got five years. And Liam Moore, seventeen, got four years. Have you heard of any of them?’
‘None of them rings a bell. I’ve written them all down and I’ll get cracking on it right away.’
‘Don’t get Dyer’s back up.’
‘Like I said, leave him to me.’
‘So, could it be one of these?’ Maggie asked, her mouth dry.
‘I think it’s highly likely. Everyone you’ve mentioned has a reason to think you ruined their life. Now we just need to cross each one off our list until we find the guilty person.’
‘Oh, easy, then,’ Maggie said.
‘You’d be surprised. I’ll search our database, see what comes up. And I’ll get onto the lab, ask if they’ve found anything. I’ll phone you back soon.’
‘Okay. Love you.’
‘Love you more.’
Not even ten minutes later, her phone rang. Maggie answered, surprised. ‘I thought it would take you longer than this,’ she began.
‘Mags, he didn’t give the letter to the lab,’ Sally said, agitated. ‘I just phoned Steve, and he says Dyer didn’t give it to him.’
‘Maybe he forgot,’ Maggie said, trying to calm her down. ‘Go and remind him.’
‘That’s the problem,’ Sally replied. ‘He’s not even in today, he’s out at a crime scene, apparently. The letter’s probably still in his drawer, but I can’t go in and get it, I’d lose my job if he found out.’ There was a dull thud, as if Sally had thumped her desk.
Maggie ran her hand through her hair, frustrated. ‘So what now?’
‘I sent Steve the photos we took of the letter and envelope, and he said he’d get someone to look at the font and postmark for me. But we need fingerprints, dammit.’
‘At least he’s got something to get on with for the time being. And as soon as Dyer gets back, you can nag him to send Steve the letter.’
‘Yeah, I guess. I’m just going through the records now, see if anything else comes up.’ Maggie heard the keyboard clicking, while Sally muttered to herself.
‘Shit.’
‘What?’ Maggie gritted her teeth.
‘Okay, I’m going to print this off, then I’m coming home as soon as I can.’
‘What the hell’s going on, Sally?’
‘This is too much of a coincidence. Dyer was part of the CID team that was investigating the local gangs back then. He wrote a letter to your editor, complaining about you.’
‘What?’
‘That’s not all. Here’s the best bit: his boss was DCI William Fields.’
7
It felt like poetic justice, getting a job in the place where I could create the most havoc. Mum hadn’t been too happy when she’d found out she’d have to take over most of Pete’s care, but we couldn’t jeopardise things now. Not when everything was slotting into place.
Mum would have to make up for all those lost years, when she’d been a drunken slob moping over a loser who’d stick his dick into anything that moved. She was pathetic, neglecting her kids for someone who was worth less than shit under her shoe. Now she would have to deal with it and do something for her kids for once in her life, while events set in motion all those years ago finally came full circle.
Pete understood, Pete was the one who had given me the idea. Oh, he couldn’t say the words, but I knew he’d want his revenge for what they’d done. Revenge. What a glorious word, so simple, yet so powerful. And I was going to make Pete proud.
I remember when Pete came home and started talking about a girl hanging around the gang, my world fell apart. Up until then, there’d always been the hope he’d give it all up, come back and make something of himself. But then Emma had wormed her way in, sleeping her way through them, fluttering her eyelashes and laughing as they came running. Even I’d been taken in, the one time I bumped into her by accident during a pub crawl. That way she had of cocking her head to one side as she listened, her plump red lips moist from the drink she was sipping, those sultry eyes gazing up in adoration. She made sure everyone knew she was available, if they wanted… and God, how I’d wanted. Only the thought of hurting Pete had stopped anything from happening that night.
Pete had fallen hard for her, I knew just by the tone of his voice when he spoke about her. Only scum, like those in the gang, would have slept with her, knowing how he felt. After the arrest, when they’d found out Emma was actually that bitch of a journalist Maggie Turner, digging up information on them to hand to the police, Pete had spiralled into a deep depression. He hadn’t cared when the gang had piled the blame onto him. He’d taken his punishment, holding himself responsible for getting them arrested, and had shown no reaction as his sentence was read out.