Friday, 25 September
The weather broke and autumn arrived. Fresh air ran through the countryside like a blood transfusion. The population breathed a collective sigh of relief and shook their heads in faux dismay.
‘That’s the summer gone then.’
Lilly barely registered the drop in temperature and stood in the kitchen rubbing her bare arms.
‘What’s up, Mum?’ asked Sam.
How could he understand? The only decent man she’d met since David was gone. The relationship was dead before it was born, over some stupid kid who probably murdered her mother.
‘Nothing, big man.’
And there it was. The starkness of it frightening, yet crystal in its simplicity. Kelsey probably had killed Grace. The letter was a confession. The neighbour had seen her. Kelsey had lied about her voice and probably a lot of other things too. How could Lilly have been so stupid? She had been so desperate to evade the demons of a case from the past that she had failed to evaluate the details of the one in the present.
Up at Manor Park, the mothers were ahead of the game. The linen suits had been replaced by fitted trousers and shearling jackets from Boden. Only Lilly had failed to check in with the three-day forecast and still sported a vest top and goose bumps.
Penny waved. ‘Hi Lilly.’ She was gorgeous in a tan waistcoat, breathless with excitement. ‘I’ve got my first meeting today.’
Lilly was irritated. How was she supposed to know what this woman did from day to day?
‘Meeting with who?’
Lilly’s tone clearly stung Penny. ‘Social services. They’re going to take me through the steps to becoming a foster carer. I can’t wait to meet my first child.’
Lilly glowered. ‘They’re not pets, you know. These kids have problems. They set fires, wet themselves and nick anything that’s not nailed down. I’ve one client who likes to masturbate at the dinner table with her chicken nuggets and another who keeps his shit in a shoebox under his bed. A few cuddles and a bedtime story won’t make it all go away.’
Penny turned on her heel. ‘I didn’t for one moment think it would.’
Lilly sighed. She had been grossly unfair and would have gone after Penny to apologise, but she was already late for her next appointment.
Max sat in his car and waited. He was edgy, given what he was about to do. Who wouldn’t be? He scissored his knees and rapped the ring on his middle finger against the window. He had spent the night in a friend’s flat on the north side of the estate. Well, not really a friend, just some guy he knew around the Clayhill. They’d clubbed together to buy ten grams of coke and spent the first part of the night washing it into stones, planning to at least double their outlay.
Max had used the rest of Barrows’ money but he hadn’t been worried, the profit margin on crack was huge. This way he wouldn’t need to take the plane ticket. Fuck it, he’d buy one himself.
He couldn’t remember when they’d agreed to toot the first one but it had seemed like a good idea. The merchandise needed testing.
By five in the morning the stash was almost gone, and Max was so wired he punched his friend in the mouth. His hand was numb from the drugs and he’d felt nothing when his fist connected, but the sickening squelch and the arc of blood told Max the blow had been a hard one.
He’d taken the remaining rocks and left his friend dribbling obscenities and spitting out teeth.
When dawn arrived Max had an empty wallet and bruised knuckles. With so much stimulant in his system he hadn’t a prayer of getting any sleep. Most users took opiates to help with the comedown but Max wouldn’t touch brown on account of what it had done to Gracie. Instead, he circled the estate over and over, his mind galloping in time with his step.
Got to get away. Got to get away. Got to get away.
He needed that plane ticket but there was only one way to get it. Barrows. Charlene.
But how could he put them together with the redhead around?
He couldn’t let anyone stand in his way.
At nine he’d called the bitch’s office and had been told Miss Valentine would be out all morning on a prison visit. It didn’t take a genius to work out who she was going to see, so he decided to get there before her.
He thought he’d just scare her. Make sure she saw him following her. After the business in Gracie’s flat it might see her off, stop her interfering.
Now, as he watched her car pull into the car park, he wasn’t so sure that would be enough.
Lilly had thought about it long and hard. She’d wrestled with her conscience and weighed the options. Eventually she came to the conclusion that she could no longer represent Kelsey. The kid would be gutted and Miriam would probably never speak to her again. Word would spread and Lilly’s practice would be decimated, but it was still the right thing to do. She could not do a good job when she had serious doubts about Kelsey’s guilt. She deserved to be represented by someone who believed in her, not a doubting Thomas.
As Lilly pulled into Parkgate she rehearsed what she intended to say.
‘I’ll ensure you get another brief immediately, and of course you’ll keep Jez and Sheba. I have a meeting with them this afternoon when I’ll sort it all out.’
She walked to the passenger side to collect her papers. Although phones had to be turned off inside she slid her mobile into her jacket pocket where it stood less chance of being stolen.
‘I know you’re upset and that’s understandable, but please believe me that this is for the best,’ said Lilly, still practising her spiel.
‘Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.’
Lilly couldn’t see the speaker but she felt his presence close behind her and instantly recognised his voice. She looked around the car park for help, but as usual it was desolate.
She forced herself to remain calm. ‘What do you want?’
‘For you to do what I tell you.’
Lilly felt her throat begin to freeze and swallowed hard, forcing the airway to stay open.
‘And if I refuse?’
She heard his breath crackle and felt something hard pressing into the small of her back.
‘If you refuse I’ll finish what I started that night in Gracie’s flat.’
Max guided her to his car with his right arm, his left keeping the pressure of his knife firmly in place. Lilly gauged the distance to the prison entrance. It would take less than a minute if she went at full pelt, but could she outrun Max? One glimpse of her captor told her that if she couldn’t he would kill her instantly. His eyes were bloodshot and she had been around enough addicts to recognise the smell of crack on his clothes.
He opened the door of a familiar BMW, pushed her into the back seat and got in beside her. Her bowels lurched when she saw rope and duct tape on the floor.
‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.
‘Shut up,’ he said.
He tied her hands together and ripped off a single piece of tape with his teeth.
‘Please don’t,’ she begged. ‘I won’t speak, I won’t make a sound.’
Max shook his head and placed it over her mouth. ‘I’d like to believe you, but you women just can’t help yourselves.’
He pushed her sideways so her hands were trapped beneath her and her cheek rested against the old leather of the seat.
Lilly was concentrating so hard on breathing that they had driven a few miles before she realised she had wet herself.
Max rubbed his cheek. His skin felt alive, like ants were moving under the surface. He told himself it was just the comedown from the drugs. After all, he had caned it last night.
And yet it seemed more than that. His dreams were imploding, and without them what had he got? No family. No Gracie. Nothing. Nothing at all.
He shot the solicitor a glimpse. Even now when he had her cornered she was lying there like butter wouldn’t melt. Like she was in control.
He could see in her eyes that she thought he was scum, that he was stupid. He saw the same look on Barrows’ face every time they met.
Well, they’d both got it wrong and Max would show them just what he was made of.
Lilly caught him looking at her, his eyes sly, furtive. She tried to seem calm, in control, and hoped he couldn’t smell the urine that burnt her legs.
In films the victim of a kidnap has to try to remember significant things about their journey so that they can work out where they have been taken, but Lilly couldn’t even have guessed how long she’d been on the back seat, her cheek bumping rhythmically against it.
For minutes, maybe hours, Lilly concentrated solely on breathing, terrified that she would pass out, the adrenalin pumping through her and making her dizzy. At last she forced herself to take note of her surroundings. How could she formulate a plan to get out of this if she didn’t even know where she was?
She was disorientated both by fear and her position, but she was sure she was still on a main road. She could hear other cars, and Max slowed and quickened as if in traffic. She could only see the top of things, office blocks and lampposts. Where on earth was she? Where was Max taking her?
Lilly tried to ease her head up to get a better view but it was impossible. She pushed down on her hands but they had lost all feeling. She was about to give up when a bus pulled alongside. Inside she could see a man in the window seat reading a paper. Behind him two girls giggled and whispered to one another behind their hands. If Lilly could see them they must be able to see her if only they would look down. She urged the man to turn from the news and look to his right, willed the girls to notice a handsome boy passing on a cycle and at the same time to notice the woman bound and gagged only feet away.
Her instinct was to shout but the tape muffled every sound.
If she kicked hard against the glass might they hear it? Probably not above the sounds of the street with its cars, sirens and road works. Still, she had to try.
She shuffled onto her back and tucked in her knees, preparing to push her feet upwards.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ said Max, and flashed the silver of his knife.
Lilly sank back into the seat. Soon the office blocks became tower blocks and Lilly realised where Max was taking her.
He didn’t know where he was going until he pulled up outside the flat. Then it seemed obvious. This was where it had all started to go wrong for Max, and this was where it had to end.
At the top of the stairs Lilly willed Mrs Mitchell to be keeping guard and turned her head to display the tape. Surely she’d realise Lilly was in trouble.
Max emitted another low crackle as if his throat were raw. ‘Unlucky. The nosy bitch ain’t in.’ He opened the door to Grace’s flat. ‘Her old man snuffed it last night and she’s down the morgue.’
Until that moment Lilly had been cold, unable to take in what was happening, but the thought of that tiny old man, whose last years had been spent as a prisoner, a hostage to both his body and his bitter wife, was unbearable. Her shoulders began to heave in silent sobs and soon her eyes began to fill. Not long behind her eyes came her nose, suddenly blocked by thick streams of mucus, and her sadness turned to panic as she realised she couldn’t breathe. She snorted hard but this seemed only to push the blockage deeper.
She opened her mouth to scream but her lips were sealed.
When Max pushed her inside the flat she fell to the floor, gyrating, her body racked by convulsions as she tried to fight for air.
‘Stop it, woman,’ shouted Max, but Lilly couldn’t. Like a fish pulled from the sea she lay on the deck fighting only herself.
When her head repeatedly banged against the skirting board Max bent over her and pulled off the tape with a vicious flick of his fingers and stuck it to his sleeve.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he shouted, but Lilly could only gulp in the air in greedy rasping mouthfuls.
He cut the tape around her hands with one vicious swipe of his knife and pinned her arms above her head.
‘What the fuck are you doing?’ he repeated.
She lay on her back until her breathing became steady, with Max straddled across her. When her chest quietened she looked up into the face of her kidnapper and saw that he was out of his mind.
‘Why did you have to stick your nose in, get involved in stuff that ain’t got nothing to do with you?’ he asked. ‘You should have let me alone, let things be.’
His face was inches from hers, in a twisted version of the position she had been in with Jack less than twenty-four hours ago. Horror seeped through her. She literally felt it start in her toes and worm its way upwards, burrowing into every cell, leaving its paralysing poison. Lilly knew that if she didn’t do something before it reached her chest she would pass out or lie there immobile while Max cut out her heart.
Lilly’s body became rubber, unresponsive, and Max’s nostrils began to flare like a wild bull. She sensed herself on the precipice without any idea of what to do next, but commanded herself to stay calm.
They say that in the moment before death your whole life flashes before your eyes, a seamless sequence of events that make perfect sense. Lilly experienced nothing so cerebral. Instead she could smell the soft caramel of her son’s head and feel the warmth of his cheek on her lips.
If she’d known she was going to die like this she would have done it all so differently. She would have stayed with David and ignored his affairs. It would have hurt like hell but Sam would have had his father with him instead of competing for attention with a pampered anorexic. She needn’t have worked so the poor kid could have had his mum at home like the rest of his friends instead of being shunted from pillar to post like an unwanted parcel. Oh Sam, if only I’d known. If …
Laughter rang out in another room. It was so familiar. What on earth was Sam doing here? No, not Sam, but Elsa. Lilly could hear her mother laughing.
‘Oh my girl,’ said the familiar voice in the distance. ‘If ifs and buts were apples and nuts we should never go hungry.’
Lilly almost laughed too.
Elsa’s voice was muffled inside Lilly’s head. ‘Down there for dancing, up here for thinking.’
‘And use your mouth for everything else,’ said Lilly.
‘What?’ said Max, momentarily snapped out of his own private nightmare.
Lilly strained to hear her mother. ‘Use your mouth, my girl, keep him talking.’
Lilly understood and looked deep into the eyes of her tormentor. ‘Tell me about Grace.’
Max threw back his head and grimaced. Lilly thought he might howl uncontrollably but instead he spoke softly. ‘I told her again and again to leave things as they were, but you and her are just the same, you won’t listen.’
‘Oh my God,’ whispered Lilly, ‘it was you. You killed her.’
Max laughed. ‘Is that what you think?’
‘You had the most to lose. She couldn’t stomach the paedophile stuff any more and she threatened to report you.’
‘She’d never have grassed me to the old bill. Not Kelsey. Not Grace.’
‘No, but she did tell her MP.’
Lilly saw he was genuinely surprised. ‘What a bitch. She deserved all she got,’ he said.
Lilly wondered for a split second why she was discussing what had happened to Grace with this psychopath, but a part of her realised that he was less likely to kill her while he was talking, and part of her still needed to know what really had happened.
‘If you didn’t know what she’d done, why did you kill her?’ she said.
He came close enough to kiss her and she could feel his breath on her mouth.
‘I didn’t kill Grace.’
Lilly once again looked deep into his eyes, their gaze so intense they could have been lovers. She wanted to believe him, thought she did believe him.
‘So who did?’
Max jerked himself from the moment. He let go of her arms, leaned back and the connection was lost. ‘I ain’t got the faintest idea.’
‘Sure you do, Max. You say it wasn’t you and I don’t think it was Kelsey.’
He sniffed and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Could have been anyone.’
‘I think you know. It’s the other person with most to lose, the other person who wouldn’t like Gracie to tell tales.’
Max furrowed his brow as if weighing this information then shook his head. ‘Nah, it couldn’t be him.’
Lilly assumed they were talking about the man in the films. The man Grace had been scared of. The man who’d hurt Candy. The man bank-rolling the whole thing. She could see by the cheapness of Max’s shoes and the level of his addiction that he was not the driving force behind the pornography.
‘That person isn’t like you, he’s sick in the head. You just want to make a few quid but he’ll stop at nothing,’ she said.
‘That’s true, but Barrows would never have the bollocks to do something like that.’
Lilly went to speak again but Max put his hand over her mouth, a childlike gesture that reminded her of Sam.
‘Did you hear that?’ he said.
Lilly shook her head, her chest once again contracting.
They listened together. Something was scratching the door.
‘A dog,’ said Max.
With a lightness of foot that came from nowhere, Max sprang to his feet and pulled Lilly by the hair from the hallway into the bedroom.
‘Lie on the bed and say nothing.’
He pulled out his knife and went to the door. ‘One sound out of you and I’ll finish this.’
Shut in the bedroom, lying in the same spot that Grace had been butchered, Lilly was trapped. If she opened the window and screamed for help Max would kill her long before anyone on this estate glanced in her direction. Violence and screams were a way of life, part of the white noise of the estate.
She felt the pressure once again in the small of her back and could still feel the shape of the knife. It was a delusion, she knew, but no less terrifying for being all in her mind. Then she half-remembered putting something in her pocket, which was twisted beneath her and digging into her back. Lilly felt for the object hurting her spine. It wasn’t a knife but her mobile phone.
Silently, she took it in both hands and brought it to her face, kissing it like a talisman. She couldn’t risk even a whispered call, a text was her only option. She lifted her fingers to it but she was shaking so violently she dropped the phone onto the bed. Panicking that Max would return any second she placed the phone on the bed in front of her, then digit by excruciating digit she spelled out a message. When she was finished her hands trembled with such ferocity that she pushed the phone off the bed before she had pressed send.
Lilly almost cried out but bit down hard to silence herself. She could taste the blood from her tongue. She crouched at the side of the bed and patted the floor for the phone. Her fingers felt the scratch of worn nylon carpet. At last she found the familiar solidity of her lifeline and forwarded a text to the one person she knew she could trust with her life.
Jack retched into the toilet bowl. He had downed half a bottle of bourbon before midnight and spent the early hours bringing it back up.
He rinsed his mouth with a handful of tepid water and headed back to bed. Who would believe that he of all people would get himself into such a state, and over a bloody woman.
He turned his pillow and laid his cheek on the cool cotton, ignoring the beep of his phone. It was a text and it could wait.
Five minutes later, Jack cursed himself for being the sort of man who couldn’t ignore his messages even when he was dying.
AT 58 WITH M, PLEASE HELP
Jack groaned and rolled onto his back. Lilly was some piece of work. Even now, after the trauma of last night, she was working on the case with Miriam and expected his assistance. Some people just didn’t know when to stop taking the piss.
Max muttered to himself, passing his knife from one hand to the other as he came back into the bedroom. The increase in tension was palpable. A slick of sweat glistened on his top lip.
This time the voice in Lilly’s head was Miriam’s, her tone calm and lilting, like waves lapping the shore.
‘Keep him talking, girlfriend, keep him talking.’
‘Was it a dog?’ Lilly asked.
Max looked at her as if he had forgotten she was in the room and shrugged. He seemed dazed and distant, madness clouding his face.
‘I know you and Grace were friends. That she meant a lot to you,’ said Lilly.
He looked at her again as if unsure what she was doing there.
‘I think she loved you, and the only reason you had words was because she was afraid for her kids.’
Max laughed. It was high-pitched, almost a giggle, and totally inappropriate. The laugh of a madman. It frightened Lilly more than the knife.
Please hurry, Jack.
Max sat on the end of the bed, his left hand resting the blade inches from Lilly’s leg.
‘They were good kids. Always did what they was told.’
‘Did that include Kelsey?’ Lilly asked.
He raised an eyebrow. ‘She did what she had to and I loved her for it.’
‘But the other man, he didn’t love Kelsey or any of the others?’
Max grunted. ‘He don’t love nobody.’
Lilly’s eyes darted to the door, willing Jack to burst through.
‘He uses and abuses people, gets them to do what he wants them to do,’ said Lilly
‘He didn’t make me do nothing,’ said Max, his pride aglow even now.
Lilly kept her tone soothing as she tried to exonerate the monster before her, show him his way out, that none of this was his fault, that some other dude did it.
‘But none of this was your idea, I’m sure of that.’
‘He didn’t make me do nothing,’ Max repeated, as if to himself.
‘But he suggested this, didn’t he?’ Lilly opened her arms. ‘That you come and get me. You said yourself he’s too much of a coward to do it himself, so he gets someone else to do his dirty work.’
Max whipped round to face her, hatred swelling in his eyes. He grabbed a thick fistful of red hair and pressed the knife against her cheek. Lilly held her breath.
‘Nobody controls me. Not him, not Grace, not you,’ he shouted.
She felt a sting as the sharp metal pierced the top layer of her skin.
‘How do you think I got this far without a mind of my own?’
He was ranting now, the knife digging deeper and deeper into the fleshy mound of Lilly’s cheek.
She didn’t dare speak or move except to push her head into the bed away from the burn of his weapon. She felt the wet trickle of blood tickling her ear and closed her eyes.
‘What’s that?’ said Max and flailed his arms.
Lilly swallowed hard in relief and followed the arc of the knife, now above her.
‘The dog?’ she said. ‘Someone’s bound to come looking for it, you should let me go now.’
It wasn’t true, of course. Kids ran wild, unchecked, never mind dogs.
Max let out a sound so guttural he seemed more animal than man.
Lilly began to gabble. ‘I won’t tell anyone what you do. I’ll leave you alone.’
In one deft movement he pulled the tape still attached to his sleeve and pressed it to Lilly’s lips.
‘You talk too much,’ he said.
Again the scratching came at the door.
‘I’m gonna cut its throat,’ he said, and sprang from the bedroom.
Lilly touched her cheek and felt the skin wet and open. She heard the front door slam as Max stepped outside and knew she had only seconds to take action. Jack had let her down and she was on her own. As always.
Lilly didn’t waste time on the tape but moved to the window. Maybe she could jump. It was awkward but she pulled hard at the frame. It was locked, the key hidden goodness knew where. Lilly looked around the room for something to smash the glass but the room was almost bare. She threw open the tiny wardrobe and snatched at a flimsy shirt. If she wound it around her hands she could break the window with her fists. With the lavender cotton acting as little more protection than a lace glove she readied herself to punch the glass, but as she pulled back her fists she looked out of the window. What was she thinking? Even if she smashed it there was a three-storey drop straight onto the concrete pavement below.
She darted instead to the bedroom door and opened it as steadily as possible. From there she could see down the hall to the front door. The dark figure of Max stood in front, visible but distorted through the frosted glass, his arms flailing in agitation over the poor dog that had inadvertently strayed onto the walkway and into this insanity. She heard barking and snarling, which could as easily have come from Max as the dog.
She fell to her knees and crawled on her belly down the hall, away from the bedroom and into the kitchen. Max was outside, only feet away, so she kept her body pressed tightly to the wall.
Outside the howls turned to whines and Lilly imagined the dog bleeding to death, its life pumping out of it onto the walkway. She wondered how it would feel, that descent into darkness. Would she know she was dying?
When Max rattled a key in the lock Lilly knew she had to act. Using her elbows as leverage, she jumped onto the work surface and made for the window. As she heard Max’s footsteps padding down the hall she pushed with all her might.
‘Bitch,’ he screamed when he saw she was missing, and crashed from Grace’s room to the girls’ room, then to the sitting room and the bathroom. Glass smashed against tiles, chairs shattered against the wall, and Lilly struggled with years of gloss paint binding the frames of the kitchen window together.
Lilly heard Max approach the kitchen, his fury increasing, and knew the window was not going to open. She took a breath, as deep as a diver’s, and kicked at the glass with all her force. It cracked from top to bottom like the San Andreas Fault, like the magic mirror in Snow White. The wood splintered in a shower of off-white chippings but the window remained shut, the glass intact.
Lilly pulled back her leg for another kick when the kitchen door flung open, ripping itself from the hinges. Max stood in the gap, howling like a wolf.
A moment passed, no more than a heartbeat, but time seemed to stand still. Max fell silent and stared at Lilly up on the counter. Her leg stopped in mid kick and she stared back.
When he spoke his voice was as clear as water. ‘I’m going to kill you.’
He leaped towards her, his arms grasping the air as she scrambled backwards along the counter, falling into the sink.
Then boom. Another door flew off its hinges. This time the front door. It landed, together with Jack, in a pile of shards. Max instinctively turned to the noise and Lilly immediately knew what to do. She reached along the windowsill and snatched the nearest hard object. Before Max could look back at her she swung it above her head, and with every bit of strength left in her arms she brought it crashing down on his skull. Max fell to the floor. Lilly looked first at his head, split above his ear, and then to the plant pot in her hand. She wiped off his blood and read the words ‘To the world’s best Mum’.
Jack helped her down to the floor with one hand and removed the tape from her mouth with his other. Lilly rubbed her torn lips. ‘What kept you?’
‘Is he dead?’ Lilly asked the paramedic who was cleaning her cheek.
‘Just resting,’ he said. ‘You’re going to need a stitch in this. Do you want us to take you back with us?’
Lilly shook her head. She didn’t think she could move from her spot at the top of the stairwell. ‘I’ll make my own way, thanks.’
She watched Jack on the street below, moving a handful of onlookers back so that the ambulance could get on its way. He climbed the stairs towards her and she tried to smile but it hurt too much.
When he came closer she noticed his pallor. ‘You look like hell.’
‘You’re none too radiant yourself,’ he said.
‘I’ve been kidnapped and held at knifepoint, what’s your excuse?’
‘I hit the bottle and spent the night wondering what to do with my life.’
‘Come to any conclusions?’
‘None whatsoever.’
‘Ouch.’
A burly nurse pulled the suture tight.
‘Nearly finished,’ she said, and dug the needle once again into the soft flesh.
Lilly closed her eyes and winced. What sort of train track was being laid?
‘My God, it’s the bride of Frankenstein.’ Miriam poked her head around the cubicle curtain. The nurse tutted at her audience but didn’t ask Miriam to leave.
At last she cut the thread and held up a mirror for Lilly to see. Although the skin was slightly raised, Lilly had to admit it was a very neat job. The nurse’s sausage fingers had been unexpectedly deft.
‘Wow,’ said Lilly, ‘you should have been around when I gave birth to my son.’
The nurse wrinkled her nose. ‘I prefer to stay at the North Pole.’
The three women laughed.
* * *
Lilly confirmed once again that she was up to date with her tetanus jabs, collected one bottle of antibiotics and another of pain relief, and signed herself out of the hospital.
‘I wouldn’t have thought your job was so dangerous,’ said the nurse.
‘I’m getting a new one,’ Lilly replied. ‘Knife-thrower’s assistant.’
The nurse gave a half-smile and went back to her needlework. Lilly headed out of the ward but took a right turn before the exit.
Jack was leaning against the vending machine at the hospital entrance, his arms crossed high on his chest. He didn’t look at Lilly but fished deep into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins, which she grabbed like a grateful addict. She fed the machine and a Kit-Kat took its dive to freedom, followed closely by a Mint Aero and some Milky Way Magic Stars.
‘For Sam,’ she muttered through a mouthful of chocolate, and made her way out.
Lilly was surprised to find it was still broad daylight. Somehow she thought the day had long since passed. Funny how major things can happen in such a short space of time. Earthquakes, plane crashes, murders, they all passed in minutes, less time than it took someone to wash their hair.
A brisk wind was gaining momentum. Lilly let the chill dance around her.
‘What happened, Lilly?’ asked Miriam.
‘We don’t need to talk about this now,’ said Jack.
His tone was gruff, his body stiff. Clearly, he had not forgotten the letter.
Lilly wanted to speak but found she had nothing to say. She turned away and shivered.
From behind, Lilly felt the weight of Jack’s jacket being placed over her shoulders. She pulled it around her, grateful for the comfort of Jack’s familiar smell as much as its warmth. ‘It’s fine. I don’t really know what happened. I arrived at Parkgate and he must have been waiting for me there, but I didn’t see him until he put a knife in my back.’
‘Jesus,’ Jack muttered under his breath.
Lilly put her hand on his arm with the lightest of touches. He tried to force a smile and she left her hand there. ‘He tied me up and took me to number 58.’
‘What did he want?’ asked Miriam.
Lilly paused. What did he want? ‘He’d made a connection in his mind between me and Grace and kept saying we’d both tried to get in his way.’
Miriam opened her eyes wide. ‘Do you think he killed Grace, after all?’
‘He couldn’t have,’ said Jack. ‘He has an alibi.’
‘He could have got someone else to do it,’ said Miriam.
Lilly opened the second bar of chocolate and popped half into her mouth. ‘I don’t think he had anything to do with it. He was genuinely shocked when I told him Grace had been to see her MP.’
She took a last bite and screwed the wrapper into a ball. ‘Could you give me a lift to Lancasters?’ she asked Jack.
‘The pub?’
‘Mmm,’ Lilly said. ‘I’ve a meeting with counsel and the shrink in there, and I’m late.’
Jack shook his head, but it was in resignation not refusal. ‘You should rest.’
‘I will.’
Jez and Sheba were settled at what had become their usual table. Unlike Lilly they seemed well at home in the smart surroundings, smoking Marlboro Lights and sharing jokes.
That morning Lilly had planned that this would be their last meeting, on this case at least, but now all thoughts of pulling out of the case were abandoned. For the first time in weeks she felt like her mother’s daughter. She had seen off an armed attacker with a strength, both physical and mental, that had surprised her. It had been a glimpse of her inner resources, which she was sure could be further mined to help Kelsey. And there was something else, something tugging in her mind. Something she couldn’t put her finger on.
When he saw her in the doorway Jez waved, his eyes cheery, but then looked puzzled at the sight of Miriam and Jack. When she got closer and he could see the fresh dressing on her cheek and her limp, he frowned in what Lilly took to be concern. She couldn’t help feeling a little buzz at the thought that he might have feelings for her, however minuscule. All this power had definitely gone to her head.
‘Something tells me there’s been a development,’ he said.
They listened intently as Lilly relayed the morning’s events, Jez shaking his head in disbelief, Sheba nodding hers in encouragement to continue the story.
Jez fixed Jack with a pointed look. ‘You’ll charge him this time.’ It sounded like an imperative, not an enquiry.
Jack bristled at the unfairness of the statement. It hadn’t, of course, been his fault that Max had walked last time, but Jez didn’t know that.
‘He’s still in hospital at the moment. Jackie Chan here gave him quite a whack, but as soon as he’s fit he’ll be taken to the station and he’s under police guard till then,’ said Jack.
Jez nodded stiffly as if Jack’s answer were just about good enough. ‘And what about Grace’s murder? Surely this points to him as the most likely suspect?’
The others answered as one. ‘No.’
‘He was in custody at the time,’ said Jack.
‘He didn’t know Grace had spilled the beans,’ said Miriam.
‘He doesn’t fit the profile,’ said Sheba.
‘Okay, okay,’ said Jez, his arms open in surrender.
‘I think it was the other man involved,’ said Lilly.
‘I thought we’d decided that wasn’t likely,’ said Sheba.
‘But not impossible,’ said Lilly. ‘You said so yourself, and my only alternative is Kelsey and I’m not yet ready to give up on her.’
They all nodded, even Jack.
‘But we’re no nearer to finding out his identity than before,’ said Sheba. ‘All we know is that Grace seemed to know this man and, given her line of business, I suspect she knew more than one or two.’
Lilly smiled so broadly she felt her cheek smart. ‘I know his name.’
Everyone turned to Lilly open-mouthed.
‘Max said his name was Barrows.’
Barrows was silently drowning as the man from MI5 spoke. Hermione had always loathed the security services but conceded they were a necessary part of political life. They were supposed to protect the national interest, but since the days of Thatcher they had been used by each successive prime minister to protect the government from those who would harm it, not just by sarin gas or mortar attack, but also by rumour and scandal.
The man was thin and pale, his hair the colour of dirt, his features instantly forgettable. No wonder Hermione referred to them as spooks.
‘What was the man’s name again?’ asked Hermione.
‘Max Hardy, madam.’
Hermione shook her head and turned to her husband. ‘It doesn’t ring a bell with me. Could he be one of your patients, darling?’
Barrows was unsure what to do and it was a feeling he couldn’t stomach. He dare not lie in case they’d already checked the clinic’s records.
‘I don’t recall the name,’ he said, ‘but I’ve seen so many people over the years one doesn’t remember them all.’
The spook nodded as if this were a perfectly reasonable answer.
Hermione poured some tea. She seemed a picture of calm but the lid of the china teapot rattled, alerting Barrows that she was anxious. He assumed the other man had seen it too. They were trained for that sort of thing.
‘What exactly has this person done?’ he asked.
The spook set down his cup without the merest chink as it touched the saucer.
‘He attempted to kill the solicitor for Kelsey Brand. Apparently it’s not the first time.’
‘That’s awful,’ said Hermione, ‘simply awful. Perhaps he’s one of these vigilante types.’
‘Perhaps,’ said the spook, and helped himself to a biscuit. ‘But that still doesn’t explain why the last call received by his mobile phone was from your husband.’
There was an uncomfortable silence punctuated only by the slight clicking sound of the spook’s jaw as he chewed.
‘Darling,’ said Hermione, her voice shrill, ‘didn’t you have your mobile stolen last week?’
‘Yes,’ said Barrows.
‘There we are, then,’ she sang.
The spook finished his biscuit. As he swallowed Barrows watched his Adam’s apple move conspicuously.
‘There we are, then,’ he repeated, and got to his feet. ‘Of course we’ll go through Mr Hardy’s phone records for the past year or so. If we need anything more we’ll be in touch.’
Hermione showed him to the door, but Barrows couldn’t even get to his feet. When she came back she no longer looked nervous, her face was grey and stony.
‘Hermione,’ Barrows stammered, but she held up her hand to stop him.
‘I thought I made it very plain that if you did anything to embarrass me, then this’, she opened her arms, encompassing their home, their marriage, their life, ‘would be over.’
He nodded and pulled himself to his feet. Though his legs felt leaden he forced himself to walk out of the room and out of the house. Hermione didn’t even watch him go.
‘The problem is,’ said Jez, sloshing wine into five glasses, ‘it’s a pretty common name.’
‘Did it come up in the case papers?’ asked Miriam.
Lilly sighed. ‘Maybe, but there are thousands of documents, it would take us forever to find it if it’s there.’
Jez took a gulp of his wine and shook his head. ‘Uh uh.’ He reached into the slim black attaché case by Sheba’s feet and pulled out a pristine ring-binder. Every sheet was hole-punched and aligned precisely, the edges littered with multicoloured tabs.
‘My sister cross-references everything, and I’d be shocked if she hadn’t a list of names mentioned in alphabetical order.’
Lilly was awe-struck.
‘I have issues, okay,’ said Sheba, and passed Lilly a long list of names.
Lilly ran her finger down the line. ‘Bagshot, Bajari, Ball … Here it is, Barrows, page 199.’
Sheba flicked to the page and passed the file to Lilly. It was a psychiatric report, not on Kelsey but on Grace during her time in care. Lilly checked the author.
‘He worked in The Bushes years ago when it was a home for disturbed children,’ said Lilly.
‘Now it’s a home for children with disturbed parents,’ said Miriam.
‘It was back then, but no one had the balls to say it,’ said Jack.
‘Let’s not get sidetracked,’ said Jez. ‘Let’s get back to the shrink.’
‘What’s his first name?’ asked Sheba.
‘William,’ said Lilly.
Sheba threw her arms up and her head back. ‘I met him once at a conference, he was jittery and smelled of sick. He used to be quite big in behavioural stuff in the early Eighties, but there was a whiff of scandal and he went into private practice.’
‘What sort of scandal?’ asked Lilly.
Sheba raised her eyebrows. ‘They say he got too close to the children in his care, if you get my drift.’
‘What happened to him?’ asked Lilly.
Sheba shrugged. ‘As I said, he went into private practice.’
‘The bastard swept it under the carpet,’ said Miriam.
‘I wonder where he is now?’ asked Lilly.
‘Living a life of misery, I hope,’ said Jez.
Sheba gave a hollow laugh. ‘Sadly, men like that always bounce back. He’s married to that politician with the cardboard hair.’
Lilly jumped to her feet, sending two glasses of chardonnay onto the floor. ‘Sorry,’ she called to the waitress as she hopped to the door, aware that Jack was only feet behind her.
Jack stood at the door to the clinic with a skeleton key. Lilly had always imagined a single pick-like implement with mythical powers and was disappointed to see a myriad of keys, from small to huge, but all unimpressively key-like, hooked onto a silver ring.
‘This could take hours,’ said Lilly.
Jack sifted through the keys and isolated a small brass one. ‘Not if you know what to look for,’ he said, and opened the door.
Lilly raised her eyebrows at him.
‘Misspent youth,’ he explained, and they made their way through the reception area.
‘Strictly speaking, this is none of your business,’ said Jack.
‘The hell it’s not,’ said Lilly.
‘I mean it’s police business,’ he said.
She took hold of his hand. ‘Lucky I brought one along.’
From outside the clinic had seemed empty, but they could hear sounds from the room that seemed most likely to be Barrows’ office. Jack put his finger to his lips and they crept to the door, then there was an almighty bang as Jack kicked it open.
‘That’s twice you’ve done that today,’ said Lilly, pleased to find them both full of surprises. Not only was she the sort of woman who could kick some serious ass, the man she fancied beat down doors when the need arose. Who said the South made you soft?
Inside the office Barrows was nowhere to be seen, but his wife, Hermione, was behind his desk emptying a bottle of fluid into a bin full of videotapes.
Hermione looks up at the door. ‘That was unnecessary.’
‘Where is William Barrows?’ asks Valentine.
‘Such melodrama.’
Hermione’s glare is cold, and so is her tone. She knows that everything is at stake. Her career, her marriage, her life.
She turns to the man. ‘And who, may I ask, are you?’
‘You know who I am,’ says the solicitor angrily. ‘And you know why I’m here.’
Hermione ignores the solicitor and smiles at the man.
He flashes his badge. ‘Sergeant Jack McNally.’
This time the solicitor shouts, ‘Where is William Barrows?’
‘He’s away,’ says Hermione.
‘Where?’
Hermione shrugs and looks at the videos that are sizzling and smoking in the bin. The acid has worked well and the tapes are all but melted, filling the air with heavy chemicals.
McNally puts out his hand. ‘I’ll take that, Mrs Barrows.’
She holds the bottle against her chest and hopes nothing leaks onto her beautiful cashmere sweater. ‘Under what authority?’
‘It’s evidence that a crime has been committed,’ he says.
‘What crime?’ asks Hermione.
Valentine becomes furious and snatches the bottle. She waves it in Hermione’s face.
‘Do you know what those tapes are? They’re films of your husband having sex with little girls. He paid someone to find them for him, mostly from care homes, girls without families, girls without anyone to watch out for them, then he raped them.’
Valentine’s voice cracks, no longer an angry shout but a strangled cry. ‘And, not satisfied with that, he had someone get it all on film so he could enjoy what he’d done again and again and again.’
She stops to catch her breath, and McNally puts his hand on her shoulder. Hermione might almost find them sweet were she not so contemptuous.
‘Must you really behave like a fishwife?’ she asks.
‘I think you need to come with me, Mrs Barrows,’ McNally says.
‘I think we should call your superior,’ says Hermione, and punches the number into the telephone on William’s desk.
‘Yes.’ The familiar voice of Bradbury comes over the squawk box.
‘It’s Mrs Barrows again,’ Hermione purrs. ‘I have one of your subordinates here, an Officer McNally. Please confirm to him what we were discussing earlier.’
‘Jack, is that you?’ asks Bradbury.
‘Yeah.’
‘Barrows didn’t kill Grace,’ says Bradbury.
‘Of course he did,’ Valentine shouts.
‘Who the hell is that?’ asks Bradbury.
‘Never mind,’ says Jack. ‘How can you be sure?’
Bradbury sighs. ‘Mr and Mrs Barrows were at a charity dinner for the NSPCC on the night Grace Brand was killed. Also present were the Chancellor and his wife, and the editor of a national newspaper. I believe Judge Blechard-Smith sat at their table.’
Valentine and McNally are shocked into silence. Hermione stifles a laugh. She is pleased to have taken control of the situation, but crowing is so unseemly.
‘What about the tapes?’ says McNally, but the edge has gone from his voice. ‘She’s destroyed the lot.’
‘That’s being dealt with at a higher level,’ says Bradbury.
McNally guides Valentine away. She still hasn’t spoken.
Bye bye, silly girl.
Lilly was still aghast when she got home. Jack had tried to impress upon her the futility of a confrontation about the tapes. Hermione Barrows was government, and his experience in Northern Ireland had taught him that what the government wants it usually gets. Justice, morality and the like came a very poor second to the ‘bigger picture’, whatever that might be at any given time.
‘But you came here to escape all that bullshit,’ she’d pointed out.
He gave a half-smile and dropped her back at Parkgate to collect her car.
‘You okay to drive?’ he’d asked.
Lilly had imagined how she must look, wounds at her throat and cheek, her foot swollen to twice its size.
‘I’ll keep her below ninety.’
Outside the cottage David was helping Sam unload something from the boot of his car. He did a double take when he saw Lilly’s cheek.
‘What on earth happened this time?’
Lilly evaded the question. ‘Thanks for bringing him home from school.’
David looked at the ground. ‘Actually,’ he said, ‘I’m collecting a few bits and taking him back to mine.’
Sam was also studiously avoiding her eyes and kicked at a stone that was lodged between two flagstones.
‘Sam?’ said Lilly.
‘It’s just for a few nights, Mum, while you’re so busy and everything.’
She looked from David to Sam and back again, but neither could tear their eyes from their feet.
‘What does Cara think about this new arrangement?’ asked Lilly.
‘She’ll be fine,’ said David.
‘So she doesn’t know,’ said Lilly.
This time David did look up, and when he spoke his words cut through her. ‘Sam’s unhappy.’
They got in the car and drove away. Lilly stayed on the drive long after they’d gone, and long after she could make out the car in the distance, unable to get David’s words out of her head. A bite was circling in the wind and it made Lilly shiver. Her cheek stung and she was tired, so very, very tired, but still she didn’t go inside. She wondered if Grace had felt like this when the girls were taken into care. Did she stand on the walkway outside number 58, afraid to go back inside to the place she could no longer call home?