---

Anna and Robyn headed back to the station. Connor Richards, head of Forensics, was set up and expecting them, his warm smile a sharp contrast to Tom’s scowl as he bashed away at his computer keyboard, ignoring them all. As soon as Robyn was ready, she tipped Connor the nod and he began.

‘It’s early days and there’s still a lot to check. We completed a thorough search of all of the immediate surrounding area, and there was indeed evidence of trampled grass at the scene, in some bushes approximately five metres from the car. We collected a cigarette end, crisp packet and dark fibres from clothing made of a cotton and polyester mix. They might be relevant. As for footprints, there are quite a few of varying sizes along the trail as you can imagine. It was a very large area to search and we covered all the car park and the trail itself.

‘These are the most important finds to date: fingerprints on Gregson’s Kia belonging to him and his wife Lauren, and a third set of prints, yet to be identified.’

He passed out a copy of the fingerprints, the loops and whorls clearly visible.

‘There were partials and an entire, clear print on the passenger door handle, and two more belonging to the same anonymous person on the door itself. There were also partial prints belonging to Mrs Gregson on the steering wheel. We collected several hairs and fibres, which we believe belong to the victim and his wife. We’re still testing them.’ Connor illuminated the overhead projector and slid in a transparency. A map of the clearing and surrounding area appeared on the screen.

‘Fragments of the bullet that killed Henry Gregson have now been removed from his body and we’ve identified it as a .455 cartridge. They’ve been sent for further forensic examination. Although we were unable to locate the weapon used, we found evidence of several areas of trampled grass especially here, about three metres from the vehicle.’ He pointed towards the spot marked on the map with an X.

‘Based on the angle of the victim’s body, the entry wound and the blood spatters, it’s possible to conclude the bullet followed a trajectory from this vicinity into the vehicle.’ His finger followed the arc he’d drawn on the transparency.

‘The cross, marked on the map as A, is where we found a small area of trampled grass. It is in and around a Scots pine tree.’

Robyn recalled the open space. The attacker could have had a good view of the car’s passenger side from there and remain unnoticed by the driver.

Connor searched the officers’ faces, waiting for questions. Mitz had one.

‘Could he have seen his attacker?’

‘I can’t answer that but it would make sense for the offender to step to one side to fire the pistol. As I said, it’s a clean shot and the perp must have had a good visual on his victim.’

Robyn kept silent. Mitz’s comment had her thinking. If Henry Gregson had seen his assailant and not leapt from the car, or driven away, he must have known them. Unless it all happened so quickly he couldn’t react. That made her consider a second question. Had Gregson recognised his assailant’s intent at the last minute and deliberately thrown his mobile under his seat to conceal it?

‘We discovered dark fibres on the tree trunk where an individual had rubbed against the bark. These matched fibres under the bush marked B, where we located footprints. There were no other matching fibres in the area, or in the car.

‘Finally, in spite of the heavy rain, we found five distinct footprints along the Gruffalo Trail itself, close to where the boy strayed. Two prints definitely belong to children. The third footprint is a size seven print, made by a hiking boot. The fourth is a size six ladies’ Rieker shoe print, and the last is most definitely made by a size ten trainer. This final print was identical to other prints found in the undergrowth, particularly under the bush marked B, where we found the clothing fibres. We believe this trainer to be a Nike LunarGlide 8. As you can see, it has a distinct, simplistic sole pattern, like a topographical map, and bears the Nike logo.’ He flicked on the overhead projector and flashed up a picture of a cast of the trainer, followed by a photograph of the side, overhead and sole.

‘Based on the size of the shoe and the stride length, you’re probably searching for somebody five foot ten or eleven. The depth of the print indicated that person was running before they turned off the trail. Examination of the wear pattern on the shoe – or rather, lack of wear pattern – shows these were brand new shoes.’ He turned off the overhead projector.

‘Thank you, Connor.’

‘I know it’s not as much as you hoped for. We’re still working on it. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have more for you.’

As soon as Connor had left, Robyn searched for information online about .455 cartridges. It appeared that such a cartridge was used in Smith & Wesson Webley revolvers, weapons that had been standard issue for the armed forces up until 1963. There weren’t many such cartridges in circulation, which made it all the more curious. There were more popular weapons, with more readily available ammunition. Was the perpetrator an ex-serviceman still in possession of their firearm, or had they bought it on the street? Such weapons, along with a host of others, including converted replicas, were easily acquired on the streets these days.

With that in mind, she tackled the list of Henry Gregson’s acquaintances using the general database to establish if any were ex-military. Her efforts were in vain, and having turned up nothing of note, she turned her attention to the list of those who were in some way connected to Henry Gregson. It appeared on the surface to be an insurmountable task, but she had patience, and no task was too daunting. She’d do it after she’d spoken to Libby Gregson.

---

It was almost midday when Robyn and Anna pulled into Longdon Road and knocked at flat number fifty-five – a downstairs apartment in a dingy block. Libby Gregson, the victim’s sister, dark-eyed and pale-faced, opened the door and ushered them into a sitting room, where a skinny woman in her fifties, dressed in an overlarge, pink cardigan, skirt, thick tights and large furry slippers, sat staring vacantly into space, an open magazine on her knees. She turned to look at them; as she did so, the cardigan slipped from her shoulder.

‘This is my mother, Kath,’ Libby said as she moved across the room with the grace of a dancer, pulled her mother’s cardigan back over her shoulder, did up the top button and stroked her hair in a gentle gesture. ‘Mum, these detectives have come to talk about Henry,’ she said.

The silver-haired woman nodded, her eyes darting left to right in confusion. When she spoke, her voice was thin and reedy. ‘We went to see him yesterday.’

Libby shook her head. ‘No, we didn’t, Mum.’

‘I’m sure we did. We went in the car to see Henry.’ She smiled and Robyn could see that once she’d been a good-looking woman.

Libby let out a huff of exasperation. ‘We didn’t see Henry. You haven’t seen him in ages. He doesn’t come any more.’ She moved away from her mother, brows furrowed. ‘She gets confused easily. She hasn’t seen Henry for two years. Not since she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s. He said he couldn’t bear to watch her decline. He stopped visiting. Mum constantly thinks he’s been when he hasn’t.’

The tone of her voice implied frustration and irritation but she maintained a steady gaze. ‘Come into the kitchen. She’ll be okay in here. Mum, I’m going in the kitchen with these officers.’

‘Is Henry coming to visit today?’ her mother asked.

‘No, Mum. He isn’t.’

Kath’s face took on a fresh look of bewilderment.

‘Why don’t you read your magazine and I’ll come in with a cup of tea in a minute?’ Libby moved them into the adjacent kitchen and sighed. ‘It’s true then,’ she said with a finality that cut through Robyn.

‘I’m very sorry, Miss Gregson.’

Libby pressed her lips together in an attempt to control her emotions. Her face was very like Henry’s but with softer features, and her hair, slightly darker than his, hung in ringlets around her neat face. Looking at her, Robyn put her in her late twenties.

‘Mum doesn’t understand what’s happened. I told her but she can’t accept it. It’s the illness. She can’t remember much. Some days, she thinks Henry is still a boy and is going to come home from school. She’s no idea who I am half of the time. It’s hard.’ She reached for a cigarette packet, pulled one out and held it up. ‘Okay if I smoke?’

Robyn nodded. Libby lit it and dragged deeply. Pale grey smoke curled from her nostrils upwards to the ceiling, and she let out another sigh.

‘If there’s any way we can be of assistance, please let us know. Mrs Gregson has a liaison officer with her. If you require any—’ Robyn didn’t get to finish. Libby shook her head vehemently.

‘We’ll be fine. I haven’t seen him in so long, it’s not like we were close any more. We used to be. Before we grew up and apart. That seems such a long time ago. What can you tell me? Your officer only gave me a few details – that Henry had been found dead on Cannock Chase.’

‘We’re waiting for the pathology report this morning and then we’ll let you know more.’

‘How did he die? I want to know.’ Libby cast a furtive look through the open door at her mother in the next room.

‘I’m afraid he was shot.’

Libby drew a breath and let it out slowly. ‘Poor Henry. I hope he didn’t suffer.’ She took a second to compose herself before speaking calmly. ‘He took off when he was eighteen. Never liked it around these parts. He’d come back now and again, but like I said, once Mum took ill, he stopped visiting. I was still living at home and was working as a nurse, so the job of looking after her fell to me. One of us had to do our duty and stand by her. So, while Henry was off enjoying his life, and shirking his responsibilities, I was here.’ She sucked on the cigarette greedily, inhaling deeply, and then stubbed it out on an ashtray.

‘Stress,’ she said, by way of an explanation, looking at the unfinished cigarette end. ‘I managed to kick the habit. Didn’t touch one for a whole eighteen months, then Mum became more of a handful and I took it back up again this year. So, as I was saying, Henry hasn’t been in our lives much. He and I had an almighty row about it. I told him I was sick of him coming around only when it suited him. I was tired of him waltzing up here to play the doting son, bring her chocolates, flowers, get her all excited, and disappear again, leaving her more confused. I had to put up with her talking endlessly about how wonderful he was, and yet it’s me who’s been here for her every day. It’s me who’s had no life to call my own because she needs me. It’s like looking after a child and sometimes an angry child at that.

‘Henry didn’t care. He just did his own thing. Like he always did. He dossed about, going from one place to another, and then he met Lauren. Didn’t hear from him for ages, then suddenly I got a call to say he was getting married. We got an invite to the wedding but we couldn’t go. Mum took a bad turn at the time and was too ill. I could have left her in day care and gone alone and buried the hatchet, but what difference would it have made? He’d have still been Henry – selfish, irresponsible Henry.’

Robyn mulled over what Lauren Gregson had told her. Lauren’s version differed greatly to what she was seeing here. Lauren believed Kath to be in a care home. It appeared that Henry had lied to his wife.

Libby continued her monologue. ‘He didn’t bring Lauren to visit us – not once. I offered to drive across with Mum a couple of times, but he made excuses about them being busy and so on. I gave up. It was transparently obvious he didn’t want either of us over. I’ve never understood why Lauren didn’t want to make any contact with us though – try to persuade him – or even visit on her own. We’re related, after all. I asked Henry about that and his response was they’d both decided it was better for Mum if they didn’t visit and confuse her. Bloody liars!

‘I spoke to him two weeks ago. I phoned him because Mum’s been getting really needy recently, as you may have noticed. She’s been talking about him more than usual, and the Alzheimer’s is really taking hold. She’ll have to be admitted into full-time care very soon. I can’t look after her alone any longer. I thought I ought to let him know. I needn’t have bothered. He told me to do whatever I wanted to do. Just like that. How selfish is that?’

She turned sad eyes on Robyn. ‘I was so angry with him I slammed the phone down. Now… Well, now I wish it had turned out differently.’

Anna, who’d been standing quietly, gave her an understanding smile. Robyn rested her gaze on Kath in the chair in the next room. Her eyelids were drooping shut and her head was falling backwards as she began to doze.

‘So you never met or spoke about Lauren – Mrs Gregson – with Henry?’

Libby looked away briefly. ‘I spoke to her on the phone – a few words. He mentioned her a couple of times, but to be honest, I wasn’t interested in her. Had her down as a self-centred bitch.’

‘What did he say about her?’

‘Just they were having a few problems. He rang me for some sympathy.’ She tutted. ‘That was Henry – always the needy one. He was feeling low and needed me to make sympathetic noises. Funny that, because he never made any time for me, not when I was feeling upset or sick of looking after Mum. Just left me to get on with it. Honestly, some days, I could’ve—’ She pressed her lips together to halt the words.

‘I gave up everything to look after our mother. I put my career on hold to become her full-time carer. I often ask myself why I did that. Henry certainly wouldn’t have. But I did. And you know why? Because she’s my mother and I didn’t want some stranger tending to her personal needs, somebody who had no idea of the love she’d shown us over the years, or who really cared about her. I gave up a social life – boyfriends and opportunities – to be here with her, washing her, feeding her and watching her fade away, a little more every day. And I’d do it all again if I had to. You only get one mother. She’s mine. I wish Henry had felt more that way.

‘When I first became her carer, I thought it would only be for a short while, but it’s been much longer than I expected, and all the while, Henry was elsewhere, not even thinking about us. He found a new love – Lauren. He was going to have a new family and then that didn’t happen. They didn’t have the children they hoped for. He rang me one afternoon and cried because Lauren blamed him for her not falling pregnant. He asked me if I thought it was likely to be his fault.’

‘That seems a strange thing to ask your sister.’

Libby shook her head. ‘No. You misunderstand. He wanted to ask my professional opinion, as a nurse. I told him it was possible his fertility had been threatened by the damage he sustained years ago, but unlikely, and recommended he see a specialist in these matters. He was involved in a fight years ago, and got kicked in the groin. I don’t know how bad it was – we never discussed it. We were both a lot younger then and it wasn’t the sort of stuff we shared. However, it was bad enough for him to be taken to hospital. He hadn’t told Lauren about the incident. He was too scared to. Can you believe that? Too scared to tell his own wife.’

‘So, you think he and Lauren had fallen out over this?’

‘Definitely. She made him sleep on the settee. Was even talking of splitting up with him. That’s why he was upset when he called me. I tried to be sympathetic, but I have enough to handle here without listening to my brother’s reproductive problems.’

Robyn digested this information before continuing. ‘Bearing in mind what you’ve just told us, Miss Gregson, can you think of any incident or anybody from his past that you think might be significant? Had he ever had any trouble with an individual or individuals?’

‘He rubbed one or two people up when he was a teenager, but nothing serious. He was one of a gang of kids from around here who got up to mischief. There wasn’t much else to do in those days. I think that’s one of the reasons he left – boredom. You think somebody deliberately killed him?’

‘We’re investigating all possibilities. It might have been an accident. We can’t say for sure yet.’

Libby looked at the cigarette end again and shook her head. ‘You must think I’m such a cow. I’ve done nothing but slag him off. I don’t mean to sound like I don’t care about what’s happened. Of course I care. He always looked out for me when I was younger. He was my big brother.’ Her voice finally cracked.

---

Anna drove from Longdon Road, leaving Robyn in the passenger seat to dwell on what she’d heard and observed. Henry had lied to his wife about his mother being in a home, but had he also lied to her about Libby being on drugs and about saving her after she overdosed? Something else didn’t add up. Surely, Libby wouldn’t have given up everything in her life to care for her mother. While Libby had been dealing with Kath, who’d suddenly called out, her mobile, on the table in front of them, had lit up with a message. Although it had only been visible for a moment or two, Robyn had noticed the name of the sender – Tarik Akar – and had read the message before it disappeared:

Remember – just keep quiet about it and it’ll be okay

---

Luv U

She pondered its significance. What was Libby to keep quiet about? Was it linked in any way to their visit, or was she reading too much into it?

‘Anna, what did you make of her claim she had no life?’

Anna considered the question, and without taking her eyes from the road, she said, ‘It was nonsense. She was wearing a trendy jumper and designer jeans, and make-up. She wouldn’t sit around the house all day with her mum dressed like that. She must have friends, and there’s support for carers in similar situations so they can have free time. She doesn’t sit in that house day after day, does she? She must have some life.’

‘My thoughts exactly. When we get back, will you do a little digging on her, please? And find out if she has any friends called Tarik. Try the clinic where she used to work, and social media.’

‘Sure. You think she might have gone after her own brother?’

‘She definitely bore a grudge against him for leaving her to support and look after Kath alone.’

Anna’s face screwed in concentration, and with eyes still trained on the road, she voiced her thoughts. ‘Do you think it’s possible that last phone conversation they had pushed her over the edge? Lauren said she heard Henry shouting at Libby. And he told Lauren that Libby takes drugs. If she was high, or not thinking straight through drug usage, she might have decided to kill him – or it could even have been an accident and she hadn’t meant to actually kill him, just scare him.’

‘It’s conceivable. Libby has no concrete alibi for her whereabouts yesterday, only her word she was at home all day with her mother.’

‘Her mother insisted they saw Henry yesterday. What if they did? What if Libby drove her mother to visit him?’

‘We’ll check to see if her Toyota passed through any of the ANPR points in the Stafford area. That’ll answer that question. Her mother has Alzheimer’s. It’s likely she doesn’t have any idea if she did or didn’t see Henry. I don’t think we can take what she says too seriously. However, we’ll check. I never take anything for granted.’

Anna grunted a response. Robyn was glad Anna felt the same way as her. Her instincts rarely let her down, and for now, she wasn’t 100 per cent convinced Libby Gregson was who or what she made herself out to be.