I frown. Rutherford. ‘Is Anastacia related to Olivia?’
‘Yes. She’s her mother. And I suspect, although I don’t know for certain but just based on the fact she was born in August 1980, that John-Paul is her father.’ He doesn’t speak for a few seconds, allowing me to digest this information.
‘Does Anastacia know that Samuel is in town looking for his brother?’
‘Hmm. Well, when I asked Samuel about Anastacia Rutherford he hadn’t heard of her. He didn’t know she was once his brother’s girlfriend. According to this, they leased the flat above what used to be the launderette in the high street, but it’s now a jewellery shop. Anyway, back in 1980 John-Paul was convicted of drug-smuggling.’
‘What?’ I’m reeling. First that the man with the scar might be Olivia’s father and now the drugs conviction. ‘Does Olivia know?’ That must have been why he was following her, back in 1998. But why not tell her who he was? Why disappear and make her wonder all these years?
‘I’m not sure. It’s still very murky.’
‘So what happened to him after he was seen in Stafferbury in 1998? Olivia never mentioned seeing him since.’
Dale tucks his notebook back into his coat. ‘I checked and there is no record of John-Paul Molina going back to prison and it doesn’t look like he left the UK.’ He takes a sip of his coffee. Mine sits, untouched, in front of me. ‘That’s what we’re trying to piece together. Why disappear for so long and why come back now?’
‘We need to speak to Olivia again,’ I say. ‘Her dad is back and he’s a known drugs felon. Olivia reckons she was drugged last night. Ralph had drugs in his body and money hidden in his caravan, and then there’s Wesley and the burner phone. Are they all in it together? Is Olivia making up being drugged?’
‘Something doesn’t add up about it all,’ he agrees, his eyes focused on the middle distance. ‘I have my theories but …’ He shrugs and looks at me. ‘I think Olivia must know more about all this than she’s letting on.’
I feel jittery, like I’ve drunk too much caffeine, and I can’t stop my leg jigging up and down.
Everyone is lying.
Has Olivia been lying to me the whole time?
‘She could have given Ralph the drugs when she went to see him the afternoon he died,’ I say, remembering. ‘Or the money. Did they argue about that? Is that why she was crying? She could be part of this whole drugs ring.’ I jump off my stool. ‘I’m going to pay her a visit. See what I can find out.’
Dale shakes his head. ‘No, Jenna, that’s not a good idea. I was planning to go there myself after seeing you. I told her last night I’d pop over and talk to her about the night of the accident.’
‘She’s hardly going to admit anything to you, but she might to me.’
Dale looks concerned. ‘I don’t know …’
‘Come on, Dale. She wouldn’t tell you anything. She’d clam up. You know she would.’
He hangs his head, defeated.
‘And I’m good at getting people to open up. It’s my job.’ I hesitate. I really want to trust Dale and it’s been niggling at me since Olivia told me Dale had found her. ‘Why were you at the stones last night? Why didn’t you go home after seeing me?’
He sighs. ‘I told you. I was following up a lead. I work crazy hours.’ But he breaks eye contact and picks up his mug, draining the remains of his coffee. The feeling returns that he’s not telling me everything. ‘Right, well.’ He gets up too and takes our mugs to the sink. ‘I’d better get going.’
He follows me into the hallway and watches as I pull on my boots.
‘Jenna,’ he says softly, when I’ve opened the door. Our eyes lock and his gaze is intense. ‘Just be careful. We don’t know Olivia’s full involvement in this.’
I dip my head, my cheeks hot. ‘I’ll be careful, I promise.’
I close the front door behind us and watch as Dale walks swiftly to his car, his overcoat flowing out behind him. As I get into my Audi I see in my rear-view mirror that he’s sitting behind the wheel, his mobile pressed to his ear. He’s talking intently to someone and glances in my direction before averting his eyes. He ends the call and pulls away from my drive.
43
Olivia
Olivia stares at her mum, aghast, as she listens to her describing her father’s attributes, their relationship, but she can’t stop thinking about the one fact that overrides everything else.
‘My dad killed someone?’
Her mother stops talking and nods, glancing down at the pine table.
‘And you never thought to tell me before?’ The room tilts. Another secret. Another lie. ‘Who … who did he kill?’
‘Does that matter?’ her mother replies sadly.
‘How? I mean, why? I just …’ Olivia pushes back her chair. She can’t breathe. A pain shoots from her knee to her hip. She’d forgotten to take her medication this morning after everything that happened last night. ‘I need to get out of here,’ she says, stumbling towards the door. She grabs her coat from the porch and rushes out into the cold winter air. Mel’s car is pulling up on the driveway and she steps out, waving to Olivia. Olivia plasters a smile on her face to cover her true feelings. The horses aren’t even ready. Three adults are booked into the 11 a.m. class. Mel will be annoyed.
‘We’re running a bit behind schedule today,’ Olivia calls, her voice carrying on the wind. ‘I won’t be long.’
She doesn’t wait for Mel to reply. Instead she heads to the tack room to retrieve the saddles and bridles required for Roxie and Prince. She’ll come back for Petal’s. She can’t think of anything but her father. He’s back in town. He’s a murderer. A convict. She saddles up Prince first, a fifteen-hand bay gelding. She feels calmer as she goes through the motions of slipping the bridle over his head by pushing her fingers into the corner of his mouth to insert the bit between his teeth. She hears footsteps outside the yard and sees her mother coming out of the tack room carrying the saddle for Petal, the piebald. She has so many questions she wants to ask about her father. He’d always been a faceless entity, someone with no name, no personality. A spectre, really. A heartless bastard who’d left her mum while pregnant. But now – now he has a name. John-Paul. And a personality – gentle, her mother had said, kind but also troubled. Secretive. It must be a family trait.
And he’d killed someone.
She moves on to Roxie. As she does up her girth Mel arrives. ‘I’ll take her. Laurie’s waiting,’ she says, grabbing the reins from Olivia. She already has hold of Prince with the other hand. Olivia nods and watches her walking off, leading both horses, then hides in Roxie’s stable until the clients and their horses have followed Mel into the arena.
‘Darling?’ She looks up to see her mother poking her head over the door. ‘We need to talk.’
‘I can’t right now. We’ve got work to do,’ Olivia snaps, ignoring the guilt she feels at being mean to her mum.
‘I’m so sorry to lay this on you. Please, for the moment, don’t tell Wesley or anyone else.’