Tides of Suspicion

By Dawn Marsanne

Tides of Suspicion follows Layers of Deceit and Waves of Guilt, and is again set in my home town by the coast.

'Help me! Help me!' screamed the young woman as she pounded on Sarah's car window. It's late at night on a dark stretch of road. Sarah is alone. Is it a trap? Sarah has a split second to decide what to do.

Traumatised by this experience, Sarah finds support comes from an unlikely direction.

Luckily, her role as a school governor provides a distraction from her personal crises and prompts her to delve into a philanthropic Broadstairs family with connections to the school.

Meanwhile, Sarah's path crosses with a character whose ambition becomes an obsession with unforeseen consequences. Her concerns heighten when she realises how damaging that drive and desire to succeed can be, especially when judgements may be clouded by grief.

A story of emotions, trauma and friendship as Sarah's life enters its next chapter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dawn Marsanne
• Release date: Oct 20, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201635817

Dawn Marsanne

Having worked in the pharmaceutical industry for almost twenty-five years I wanted to write a novel which explored some of the serious issues in the field. The reproducibility of scientific data is a common problem which has recently been highlighted in the news and this forms the basis of my first book Adverse Reaction. I particularly enjoy reading thrillers and suspense novels and I have tried to create a fast paced story which holds the reader's attention. Many of the themes of the book occur in everyday life and I have used the backdrop of research to illustrate them. There are relatively few novels which are set in the laboratory environment so I saw this as an undeveloped area but at the same time scientific details are kept to a minimum to allow the work to be accessible to readers of a non-technical background. As I finished the novel I became sufficiently interested in the characters I had created to develop them further and the six book Persford Reaction Series was born. Since then I have written to standalone novels, A Form of Justice and Relative Error. Waves of Guilt is the first in a new series and is now joined by a sequel, Layers of Deceit.  Follow me on twitter @dawn_marsanne

Book preview

Prologue

Three months earlier

‘So, Tobes, I’ve got a bit of good news. I’ve spoken to my solicitor and all being well, I should be able to sign the contract for the new house next week. We are looking at moving down in early August.’

Toby thought about his father’s statement for a few moments before replying, ‘Are you having a trip down again soon?’

‘Yes, probably in a couple of weeks. Why?’

‘Can I come with you? Have another look around?’

‘But you are going away with Zac and his family. Your flights are booked and Zac’s expecting you to go with them. Three weeks in a lovely villa in the south of France! It will be great!’

‘I’d rather stay with you. And as we are going to be moving to a new area, I’d like to get to know it.’

‘There will be loads of time to get to know it when we move. Why not make the most of the time you’ve got left with Zac before we leave here?’

Toby sighed. ‘I suppose.’

‘Besides, I’ll be so busy with meetings and looking for premises for the business, I won’t have much time to take you around. It won’t be a holiday for me.’

‘I’m seventeen, I don’t need babysitting,’ replied Toby.

‘No, but you won’t have transport, and I won’t be able to ferry you to and fro all day.’

‘We could take my bike and I’ll cycle,’ persisted Toby.

‘No, I’m sorry, Tobes. It’s not possible.’

‘OK. I understand.’

‘You’ve seen the house when we went down with mum and Jade just before......, well earlier in the year. You liked it didn’t you?’

‘Yes, it’s great. Well, it will be when you’ve done the work on it. But Dad, isn’t it a bit big for the two of us?’

‘It’s good to have the space. I’m not going to change my mind now. That house is, well, it just feels right. Your mum was excited about it and I think I’d like to buy it for her memory. It might seem silly, but well, we had decided to move and I want to follow through with it.’

‘She was going to redesign the garden, wasn’t she?’ said Toby.

‘Yes. But I’m going to get someone in to do that. You might like to get involved with it?’

‘Possibly,’ replied Toby. ‘I don’t know anything about plants though. Not like Mum did.’

‘We can both learn. Our project?’

Toby nodded.

‘Also, you can pick whichever bedroom you want and I’ll make you an en-suite and you can have a sitting room as well. It will be like having your own flat in the house. Doesn’t it sound great?’

‘So I can play my music loudly and you won’t be on at me all the time?’ said Toby.

‘Don’t push it!’ joked his father.

‘It can be my bachelor pad,’ laughed Toby.

‘Yes, and it will mean you can study with nobody disturbing you. Which reminds me, when you come back from holiday, you will need to spend some time catching up. I’ve been in touch with your new school and the staff are going to send through some topics for you.’

‘Oh, Dad, not in the holidays! I promise to work extra hard once term starts.’

‘No, Toby. You need to fill the gaps otherwise, it will be too much once term starts. You’re not like.....’

‘You mean I’m not like Jade who didn’t need to study all the time,’ retorted Toby.

‘We are all different. I just mean you need to put the effort in. Wenton House is a good school and you need to make the most of your opportunity. Remember what happened at your old school?’

Toby flushed with embarrassment.

‘OK, so no arguing,’ said Toby’s father, sternly.

Chapter 1

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Autumn had arrived. The beginning of October was grey, wet and windy, and according to the weather forecaster, temperatures were lower than the seasonal average. I had relented and switched on the central heating. Light levels were low, and I could feel myself slipping into that familiar seasonal depression.

In three weeks the clocks would go back, ushering in even shorter days. However, this year, I had Craig for company, and although I knew I would struggle with my mental health until the spring, I didn’t have to cope alone.

As well as the meteorological challenges, I had another burden, mental rather than physical. Two weeks ago Katy had phoned with the news that Abigail Jarvis was missing. I had immediately seen the parallels with David’s death. However, in Abigail’s case, someone had spotted her and the emergency services had led her to safety from the railway line in Canterbury, and from thereon, a mental health team had looked after her. After a few days in hospital, she had returned home into the care of her husband and the community mental health team. I feared that Abigail would never recover from that fateful night when she had failed to call for an ambulance for Joshua Hanson. Craig repeatedly told me I wasn’t to blame, but from time to time, guilt tapped me on the shoulder.

I wondered whether the police would have worked out what had happened at QexChem without my input? Possibly not. Then, Abigail would be carrying on with her normal life and continuing her career in research. Although there was no chance to turn back the clock, a tiny part of me wondered whether it would have been better for me to leave matters alone. But my rational self accepted that Abigail had abandoned her moral and legal duty of care towards her colleague. Despite Joshua’s dishonest actions, he should have received medical help to at least give him the chance of survival. Abigail now had to live with her failure of responsibility for the rest of her life.

Craig was busy with his scientific journalism and simultaneously contributing to another textbook whilst still completing the chapters for Meg. I worried that he was working too hard, but he assured me he could cope. Thankfully, he had taken to his new jogging routine with enthusiasm and had shed around half a stone.

‘How’s it going?’ I said to Craig as he appeared in the kitchen to get a coffee mid-afternoon.

‘OK, although I’m going to have to rewrite my article on molecular machines. Clare isn’t happy with it.’

‘Oh, sorry about that,’ I replied. ‘What doesn’t she like?’

‘All of it,’ said Craig bluntly. ‘Oh, come on, what’s happened with this fucking coffee machine. Argh!’ he shouted, pulling at the lever.

‘Wait a minute. These pods aren’t dropping down like the others. Just push the pod gently, and it will drop down.’

‘Oh, I see,’ replied Craig, stabbing the button on the front of the machine and positioning his cup directly underneath the trickle of coffee.

I looked at Craig and noticed he was holding his arm across his stomach. His face looked unusually drawn and tense. Something was wrong, and I didn’t think it was just the pressure of his work.

‘Craig, are you feeling OK?’

He sighed. ‘I’m a bit stressed, that’s all.’

‘Sure that’s all it is? You are holding your stomach again.’

‘Yes, I’ve still got a bit of stomach ache. Maybe I’ve pulled a muscle on my run?’

‘I asked you to phone the doctor two days ago.’

‘And I said that I would see whether it got any worse,’ replied Craig tetchily.

‘And has it?’ Craig didn’t respond. I could see he was trying not to snap at me. ‘Do you feel sick? Is it a stabbing pain?’ I asked tentatively.

‘Not sick but I don’t feel hungry. Which is good as I’ll lose a bit more weight,’ he said, smiling for the first time during our conversation.

‘Yes, but it’s not good having stomach ache. Perhaps it’s indigestion? I’ve got some antacid tablets somewhere.’

‘I’ve taken some, but they’ve not had any effect.’ Craig drained the rest of his coffee, then winced, and his hand flew to his stomach. ‘Oh, that’s a twinge.’

‘I want you to phone the doctor tomorrow. Agreed?’

Craig nodded. ‘I will. I don’t think it’s going to get better.’

‘Can I do anything to help? What about a microwave heater? That might help?’

Craig shrugged. ‘I can try one. It can’t do any harm.’

I microwaved an oat bag for Craig and he went into the lounge and flopped down on the sofa. ‘I’ll just take a break for ten minutes,’ he said. ‘How’s your afternoon going?’

‘Fine. I’ve been working on this fundraising for the school. I’m not making a lot of progress, though.’

Since I’d organised a successful careers evening at Wenton House School, I’d been asked to get involved in other initiatives. Six months ago, the school had engaged builders to start work on a new science block, but shortly after digging the foundations, there were some issues with the land stability. An undocumented underground tunnel caused a sinkhole to appear, and this had added costs due to additional surveys. The county council was unable to provide any extra funding, nor was central government, citing a clause that indemnified them. The county council’s legal team fought the decision, but they were found to be negligent in the surveys carried out. As a result, the school had initiated a fundraising campaign to make up for the shortfall in funds. There was probably just enough money to build the shell of the building, but equipping it was another matter. To fully complete the project, an additional hundred and fifty thousand pounds would be needed.

‘Any response from QexChem?’ asked Craig.

‘They are thinking about it, and promised to get back to me by the end of the month.’

‘Oh, well, that’s good. Are you hopeful that they will chip in a big wodge of cash?’

‘Reasonably. These things are always good publicity for them. To be honest, I don’t know why the school didn’t contact them before. It seemed obvious to me.’

‘Well, fingers crossed,’ said Craig. ‘By the way, has Phillip heard any gossip about the builders recently?’

Another governor, Phillip Sedgwick, played golf with the owner of a local building firm, Rodgers who were building the science block. Phillip was adamant the firm was in financial straits due to some sloppy accounting. Phillip’s details were sketchy, but he’d heard from another source that five staff had recently been made redundant and Rodgers were having trouble paying their suppliers. It was a worrying snippet of news, and the school might well be in danger of being left in the lurch.

‘Phillip’s not been in touch recently. I hope the school bursar did due diligence on Rodgers, otherwise, it’s going to be very embarrassing. I mean, it’s good that the school wanted to give the job to a local firm, but it’s no good if the company isn’t viable.’

‘Do you think someone got a back-hander? It wouldn’t be the first time that sort of thing has happened,’ said Craig.

I shrugged. ‘No idea. Phillip would be the one to know about that. He seems to know everyone in the area. His golf club is where all the gossip happens.’

‘Have you contacted anyone else in the area about sponsorship?’ said Craig.

‘I’ve been in touch with a few other small companies on the Science Park, but they’ve  not responded yet. I’m hoping to get the school kids involved in something. I think it will be good if they can feel they are contributing.’

‘That’s a lot of special pens and pencils you will need to sell,’ said Craig. ‘I remember at my primary school we had a building fund and had to sell pencils with the school logo on them to our relatives.’

‘Well, I’m trying to think of something a bit more exciting than that,’ I replied. ‘Although exactly what, I’m not sure at the moment.’

Craig didn’t respond. He had his eyes closed and his head back against the sofa. His face looked strained, and his face pale.

‘Craig, I’m worried. You don’t look well. Perhaps you should phone the doctor now?’

‘Tomorrow, OK? I’ll take some painkillers,’ replied Craig.

‘Is that a good idea for stomach ache? It might make it worse.’

‘I’ll take a couple of paracetamols. I’m sure that won’t harm me. Anyway, I’d better get back to what I was doing. I’m going to have to work this evening as well, sorry.’

‘Oh, don’t worry. I’m fine. I’ve got things to do.’

Craig dragged himself up off the sofa, and I could tell he was trying not to show that he was in pain. I was about to offer to reheat his microwave heater when I heard my mobile ringing in the kitchen. It was DS Katy Forbes. I filled Katy in with my news, and she listened without interrupting me, and I felt conscious that I was gabbling away.

As we chatted, I could hear someone else speaking to her. ‘OK, I’m coming,’ she replied to her colleague. ‘Sarah, I’m going to have to go now. I’ve got to rush off to a crime scene.’ Katy sounded as though she was walking quickly, and there was a hubbub of voices in the background. ‘Perhaps I could pop round to see you this evening?’

‘Sure. Craig is working, so it will be good to see you.’

‘OK, is eight convenient?’

‘Yes. See you then.’

I disconnected and felt a few butterflies in my stomach. Unless Katy wanted some scientific advice about a case, I had a horrible feeling that Katy had some more news about Abigail. Deep down, I knew that it was unlikely to be good news. I glanced at my watch. I had about four hours until I found out what it was.

Chapter 2

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Katy arrived just before 8 p.m. I’d been watching from the front window so that Katy didn’t need to wait in the pouring rain. She sprinted up the driveway and stepped into the porch, wiping her face with her raincoat sleeve.

‘Ugh! The rain’s so heavy now,’ she said. ‘It started suddenly. When I left the station, it was only drizzling.’

‘Come in and get warm,’ I said, taking her coat and hanging it up on the newel post. ‘We are certainly having a wet spell of weather at the moment.’

‘Tell me about it! We’ve got buckets all around our office area. The roof started to leak after those thunderstorms two days ago. Hopefully, the builders will sort it out soon.’

‘Go through. Can I get you a drink? Red wine, tea, coffee?’

‘Oh, well, I’ll have a glass of red. Thank you.’

I poured us both a glass and joined Katy in the lounge. ‘Craig’s working this evening. He’s very busy at the moment.’

‘So, as you might have guessed, I’ve some news about Abigail,’ said Katy quietly.

I sighed, bracing myself for what was to come. I nodded for Katy to continue and took a large mouthful of my red wine.

‘Sadly, Abigail tried to take her life again. She’s in hospital, but the next few days will be critical.’

‘Oh, no. I thought that might be what you wanted to tell me. What did she do?’

‘She took an overdose of her antidepressants along with a large number of paracetamols, and a few other things she could find. Some hay fever pills, some others which I’ve forgotten. A real cocktail of things.’

I shook my head. ‘Poor thing.’

‘Her husband had popped out to get some shopping, and although he had locked the pills away, Abigail prised open the desk drawer with a big screwdriver. I guess if someone is determined, there’s not a lot you can do about it.’

‘But the mental health team was happy she was improving, weren’t they?’

‘Yes, but people don’t always tell the truth, and Abigail is clever. She doubtless told the team that she was feeling better than she was. Or, she might suddenly have had a deterioration in her mood. Who knows?’ Katy shrugged. She looked directly at me. ‘I know what you are thinking, Sarah, and I’ll say it again, you mustn’t blame yourself. Abigail acted very foolishly. None of this is your fault.’

‘I know, but sometimes it feels like it is,’ I replied.

‘Well, it shouldn’t. I asked you to help me as I felt there was something to investigate. The whole thing was tragic, I can’t dispute that, but you are in no way responsible for the fallout from the sorry affair.’

‘OK, I’ll try to be good,’ I smiled. ‘You will let me know how Abigail gets on?’

‘Certainly. This wine’s lovely, by the way,’ said Katy draining her glass.

‘A little more?’ I said.

‘I’d love to, but I’d better not. I’ve got an early start tomorrow.’

‘So, how’s everything in the murky world of crime in Kent?’ I asked.

‘Oh, it’s the usual depressing catalogue. However, I’ve got a bit of good news. Personal news, that is,’ smiled Katy.

I raised my eyebrows in expectation. ‘I could do with some good news.’

‘So, DI Bignell is planning a six-month secondment to another team, which means that I’m going to be acting DI in his absence!’

‘Wow! I’m so pleased for you! Excellent news. Do you think it might become permanent?’

‘Fingers crossed. There’s another DI who is close to retirement so I could be in line for his position. Failing that, I might have to move to another area.’

‘Oh, well, whatever happens, I wish you luck.’ I was genuinely pleased for Katy. From the interactions we’d had, she had demonstrated herself to be very able and personable. I hoped she had a great career ahead of her.

‘Thank you.’ Katy glanced at her watch. ‘Well, I had better be on my way. Thanks for the wine. You and Craig must come over and have a drink with Scott and me. Let’s try and put something in the diary.’

‘I’d like that. Perhaps I could text you some dates?’

‘Yes, do that. Right, well, out into the rain again. I’m going to go straight to bed when I get home and snuggle under the duvet!’

We said our goodbyes and I went upstairs to tell Craig the news. I was surprised to see the light was off in Craig’s office, but there was a faint glow coming from our bedroom. To my surprise, Craig was lying on his side, with his legs drawn up to his stomach.

‘Craig. Are you OK?’ I whispered.

‘No, I don’t feel good at all,’ he replied. ‘How’s Katy?’

‘Oh, fine. I’ll tell you later, but I’m worried about you. Can I get you something?’

I’d heard footsteps going across the landing a couple of times during Katy’s visit which was a bit unusual for Craig. His trips to the loo were infrequent compared with mine, and when he was concentrating on his work, he often spent hours without leaving his office.

‘I feel sick. I thought I was going to throw up a couple of times, but nothing happened.’

‘Oh, dear. What about a cup of tea? Or some water?’

‘Just water, please. I’ll phone the doctor tomorrow. The pain is getting worse.’

I went downstairs and heard footsteps once again heading towards the bathroom. As I went back up, I could hear retching.

He didn’t emerge from the bathroom, so I went along and pushed open the door, ‘Craig, do you need me?’

‘Yes,’ he replied weakly. ‘I need to go up to the hospital. I’ve just vomited up a load of blood.’

Chapter 3

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We were once again heading up to the A&E department at the local hospital. It was only a few weeks since we had taken Cyril after his accident in the garden. Luckily, I’d only had one glass of wine with Katy as I had to drive. Craig was a silent passenger, clutching a plastic carrier bag should he feel sick again. After he had vomited blood, Craig had sat in the lounge whilst I had rushed around the house collecting our phones, keys, and a bottle of water.  Bending down to put his shoes on caused Craig more pain in his stomach. Although neither of us had mentioned a possible diagnosis, I feared that Craig was suffering from a perforated stomach ulcer which could be fatal if left untreated.

At 9 p.m. on a wet autumn evening, the traffic was light and the hospital car park pleasantly empty, as was the A&E reception, where only four people were waiting. Craig gave his details along with his symptoms, and the receptionist entered them into the system.

We took seats towards the back of the waiting area, away from two young men who were showing the effects of overindulgence in alcohol. One lay across several seats, his head on his folded up jacket. Craig rolled his eyes at me as he inclined his head at the inebriated pair.

‘Once when I was here with David, there was a tramp asleep on the seats next to the vending machine,’ I whispered to Craig. ‘I woke him up when I put my money in the machine, and he glared at me.’

Craig managed a weak smile. ‘I feel a bit better now after being sick. Perhaps it’s a bug?’

‘Let’s see what the medics say,’ I replied. It seemed unlikely that Craig was suffering from norovirus. He had brought up a copious amount of blood, but fortunately, it was bright red in colour, which showed that any bleeding was new.

I checked that our phones were switched to silent and took off my coat as the waiting area was stuffy and hot. ‘Craig, shall I text Micky to let him know you aren’t very well?’

‘Not now. Let’s see what they say. I don’t want to worry him.’

‘OK, but you should tell him in the morning.’

‘I will if there is anything to tell him. Don’t fuss. I’m not a child!’

I didn’t respond verbally to Craig as I knew he was snapping at me due to feeling so unwell. Instead, I reached for his hand as I glanced at the TV which was playing the news channel, on mute with subtitles.

‘Oh, God, the pain is worse,’ said Craig. ‘I feel like shit.’

‘I’ll go and tell the receptionist you feel really ill,’ I replied. Craig’s face had a grey pallor, and beads of sweat had broken out on his forehead. I’d never seen him look so bad.

I went over to the receptionist who looked through her glass booth with concern, then made a phone call.

‘Someone will be through in a few minutes,’ she replied to me.

I thanked her and returned to Craig, who was now leaning forward, his arms crossed over his stomach, and he was rocking back and forth. I sat next to him and rubbed his back. I was beginning to feel a bit light-headed and could feel my heart beating rapidly.

‘Craig Dennison?’ called a male nurse.

We stood and walked over to the door into the emergency ward. ‘Come this way,’ he said. I let Craig go in front of me. A few yards into the treatment area, Craig moaned, then doubled over and vomited on to the floor. Blood spewed from his mouth like something from a horror film. I cried out in shock, reaching for the wall to steady myself.

The nurse stepped to one side to avoid being spattered by bodily fluids and called for assistance as Craig lost consciousness and fell heavily, his knees landing in the pool of blood.

I can’t remember the exact sequence of events, but Craig was surrounded by medical staff. They put him in the recovery position, checked his airways were clear, measured his pulse rate and listened to his heart, fastened a blood pressure cuff around his arm and an oxygen sensor on his finger. The atmosphere was frenetic.

Another member of staff led me to a chair, and I put my head between my knees. The shock had made me feel faint, and I felt slightly queasy myself. I was so worried about Craig, but at least he was with the experts now. I could hear instructions being shouted, and an emergency consultant appeared to assess Craig. Hopefully, he would soon be on a bed instead of the hard floor.

I gave thanks that we hadn’t waited any longer before coming up to the hospital. Another hour and the consequences could have been fatal.

**

The emergency staff had suggested I left the treatment area whilst they stabilised Craig, so I went over to the main cafe, which stayed open all night and bought a cup of tea. It gave me the chance to get some fresh air and to check that I had locked my car. Being in such a stressed state, I had little recollection of arriving at the hospital.

Now, at just after midnight, I was sitting next to Craig, still in A&E. He was in a morphine-induced sleep, hooked up to a saline drip and the second bag of blood was slowly replacing his copious loss. His blood-stained clothing was in a plastic bag next to me. Craig looked vulnerable and weak in his hospital gown, so different from his normal ebullient self.

The consultant came over to speak to me. ‘Hi, I’m Dr Faisal Khan. Mr Dennison is stable now. We are monitoring him closely, and as soon as a bed becomes free, we will transfer him to a ward.’

‘Thank you,’ I replied, clearing my throat as my voice sounded croaky.

‘So, we think that he has suffered a perforated ulcer. He’s lost a lot of blood, and we may need to operate. In a couple of hours, we will perform an endoscopy to check his stomach. When we can see the extent of the lesion, we can decide on whether he needs surgery.’

I nodded as I took in the information. My suspicions had been correct.

‘It’s entirely up to you, but there’s not much you can do here. I’d advise you to go home and get some rest. Phone in the morning to find out which ward he’s on. We’ve got your details, so if there is any change, we will let you know.’

I thanked the consultant once again and he disappeared to treat other patients. Craig was fit and healthy for his age with no underlying problems, so hopefully would make a full recovery. He might need to make some lifestyle changes though. All that was in the future, we had to get through the next few days before facing that hurdle.

Chapter 4

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It was almost one in the morning when I left Craig. Now that the adrenalin had worn off, I felt