very special there, a tiny, voice-activated, electronic device. Then I drove over to the park and went to your favourite spot, long before you got there. I’ve got it all on tape, Annie, every word, because I bugged the bench we were sitting on.’
Chapter Forty-Six
Tom played her a short extract of their conversation on the park bench but not before assuring her he had more than one copy.
‘Please,’ she said as she followed him back through the house, ‘don’t do this. I’m begging you. Think of them!’ She pointed back towards the garden. ‘They’re only little girls. They need their mother. Don’t take me away. I’ll do anything you say, I’ll give you anything you want but don’t do this.’
‘You’re thinking of your children now, Annie,’ he said because he was trying not to think of them, ‘but you should have done that before you went after Rebecca Holt. You should have considered the lives of your children before you beat that woman to death and sent their own father to prison for her murder.’
‘He doesn’t deserve them and they don’t deserve a father like him!’ Annie screamed.
Tom realised it had been a very bad idea to visit Annie Bell at home. He’d hoped it would be a calmer environment than the office, but the presence of her children seemed to make Annie more desperate. He did not want to hear any more of Annie Bell’s protestations so he left as quickly as he could, but she followed him out into the street and began shouting at him as he climbed into the car.
‘What would you have done,’ she demanded, ‘if you were me, what would you have done? The same thing!’ she told him. ‘The exact same thing!’ She slammed her hand on the bonnet in frustration.
‘No, Annie,’ he told her through the open window of the car, ‘I wouldn’t. Not everyone is a murderer.’ He drove away leaving her shouting in the street.
Tom knew he could do no more now. Annie had been given the facts; only she could interpret them and make her next move. He had fenced her in and left her with only one viable option: phone Ian Bradshaw, tell him the full story and throw herself on everybody’s mercy, including her husband’s. Would she go through with it or would she force Tom to turn over everything to the police and get them to reluctantly pursue her over a previously solved case, while hiring herself the best lawyer money could buy? All he could do now was wait and learn whether Annie Bell had the nerve to see this through.
The next morning get-together at the Rosewood café was dominated by talk of Annie Bell and speculation around what she would do next. It had been almost twenty-four hours and Bradshaw had received no phone call from her.
‘I could just arrest her,’ he reminded them.
‘Then she would hire a solicitor and find out your star witness is a pervert. Let’s wait a little longer,’ the journalist told him. ‘Annie is under a lot of pressure right now and she might just crack.’
Then Bradshaw told them, ‘I finally got a copy of the photograph of Sandra Jarvis from the CCTV at Central Station.’
‘Great.’
‘Maybe not,’ said Bradshaw.
‘Why not?’ Bradshaw handed him the Manila envelope containing the photograph.
Tom slid the photo from the envelope and peered at it. ‘This is Sandra Jarvis?’ he asked.
‘Yep,’ said Bradshaw, ‘according to her case file.’
‘But …’ Tom began ‘… it’s not Sandra Jarvis.’
‘Exactly,’ agreed Bradshaw, ‘or at least it might be her, but it could be practically anybody.’
Helen took the photograph from Tom’s hands and looked at it. ‘You mean someone spent hours going through CCTV footage and they found this,’ she said, ‘then they categorically stated that it’s Sandra Jarvis?’
‘Yes,’ agreed Bradshaw and Helen glanced once again at the blurred image of a young blonde woman. Nobody could have convincingly stated it was Sandra. The image was too distorted by distance and the deep grain on the photograph for it to be recognisable.
‘But that’s ridiculous,’ she said. ‘Who could have done this and why?’
‘Someone corrupt,’ said Tom because he realised immediately what must have happened, ‘in Northumbria Police who wanted everybody to think Sandra Jarvis got on a train that day and left Newcastle when she didn’t. In fact,’ he added, ‘she may never have left the city at all.’
Annie Bell dressed in a dark suit that morning, but she didn’t go into her office. She arrived mid-morning at an office