Jamming the van into gear, he slammed his foot on the gas, the wheels whirring, the engine complaining as he drove away, the blood in his veins boiling with the need for revenge.
'Kill the whore,' the voice echoed through his brain.
The snow started to fall again.
42
'Perhaps this wasn't such a good idea.' Jackie said as the car fishtailed along the road.
It had taken them over forty minutes to get from the boat to the town centre, a journey that would normally take fifteen minutes at the most. The roads were treacherous, the snow coming down again in a swirling flurry of white.
Lasser eased off the gas and the car straightened out again. 'I can't remember the last time I went to the church to listen a carol service.'
'I get that, but we both know that you could be called out any minute, and you haven't slept yet,' she replied.
Reaching out his left hand he gave her knee a squeeze, after the conversation on the boat he had paced back and forth trying to decide what to do with his suspicions about Craig Lanark.
In the end, Jackie had told him to sleep on it, but that had seemed impossible, so when he had suggested they go to the church she had agreed.
Now, the road started to gradually dip towards the town centre and Lasser put his left hand back on the wheel. 'If you ask Bannister, he'll say sleep is for wimps.'
'I bet you a tenner he's snoring as we speak.'
Lasser gave her a crooked grin. 'Yeah, you could be right.'
Thankfully, as he arrived at the traffic lights they flashed onto green and he edged across the junction. The road levelled out and he risked another gear, then blinked several times in an effort to clear his vision from the dancing white flakes.
'At this rate there'll only be you, me, the vicar and Dorothy Marsh there.'
'Can you sing?' Lasser asked.
'Well, I can but don't expect me to get up and do an Elkie Brooks number in the pulpit,' she warned.
Five minutes later, they were parked in front of the old court building, surprisingly the road was lined with parked cars, most of them relatively free of thick snow.
'It looks as if the congregation made it after all,' Jackie said as they climbed out and headed for the lychgate, her arm linked through his as they walked.
'Do you think we have time for a cig before we go in?' Lasser asked.
Jackie stopped, pulling out her pack and handing it over.
'Do you want one?' he asked.
'No thanks, I'm fine.'
Standing under the lychgate, Lasser sparked up.
'If Plymouth had been here then it's a good thirty feet from where Craig claimed to have seen him,' Jackie said as she watched Lasser peering along the snow-swamped path.
'He's bullshitting,' Lasser said. 'The question is why?'
Taking hold of his hand, she gave it a squeeze. 'You'll sort it tomorrow,' she offered.
'I'll have to, but I'm not sure how Odette will react.'
'I know, it'll be hard, but she'll see the reasoning behind what you have to say.'
Lasser nodded thoughtfully, before pulling her close and kissing her, he could feel her warm sweet breath on his lips as she eased away.
'Come on, let's get inside, you never know they might even have the heating on,' she said.
Flicking the cigarette back to the road, they walked towards the church, warm light spilled out onto the snow from the open doors.
When he spotted Mia in the entrance, he smiled and raised a hand.
'Well, this is a surprise,' she said, smiling warmly at them both.
'Mia, this is Jackie,' Lasser said.
'Hi, Jackie, lovely to meet you. Come on, I was just about to close the doors. The heating's been on all day, goodness knows what the bishop will say when he sees the bill, but I'll worry about that later.'
They followed her inside, Lasser pulling the door closed, a slight grimace on his face as he thought about what had been hanging on the handle a few hours earlier.
The church was packed with people in thick winter coats, some sporting hats and gloves. Lasser eased to one side with Jackie as the organ began to play. Then the choir joined in, lovely voices ringing out around the church that was decked out with holly, the flickering candles giving out a warm welcoming light.
Lasser spotted Dorothy Marsh sitting in one of the pews, her eyes wide and tear-filled as the music swelled.
When he saw her start to cry, Lasser felt the emotion catch in his throat.
Jackie kept hold of his hand, their fingers entwined as Hark the Herald Angels Sing filled the ancient church.
43
Bannister was feeding the Christmas cake with brandy, though his heart wasn't really in the task. He could hear laughter coming from the lounge, Kelly and Belle no doubt amused at something on the television.
Pouring himself a drink from the bottle, he screwed the lid back on before snapping the plastic lid into place, keeping the cake moist, ready for the big day.
Drink in hand, he wandered into the conservatory and made his way over to the French doors. As soon as the sensors picked him up, the lights came on outside, flooding the garden with light, chasing the shadows away and making him squint at the glare from the snow.
Sipping the drink, he looked around the garden and sighed. After arriving home, he had tried to get into the festive mood, but the truth was he felt devoid of any Christmas cheer.
He couldn't stop thinking of the head in the hessian sack dangling from the church door like bag of offal. Then he pictured Marsh farm, the interior walls black with mould, the window frames rotten, vermin shit all over the place.
He took another drink from the glass, a gulp this time, as the images floated through his mind like apparitions as ethereal as the drifting snow.
Rubbing at his eyes, he tried to keep the heavy sigh at bay and then gave up as his shoulders sagged.
His mind travelled back to the hot summer months, to a threadbare terraced house in town, Rose Hope in her eighties, sitting in the only chair in the place, her face battered, her life over and done with.
Looking into the glass, he drained it and shook his head, trying to shift the tormenting ghosts that had been making his life a nightmare.
More laughter drifted into the conservatory, but he didn't hear it, his mind was busy parading the dead in what felt like a never-ending procession of horror.
He tried to think of the last time he had slept without waking: without the scream locked in his throat, his heart pounding, his body drenched with sweat. The panic would take over as he checked to make sure he hadn't disturbed Suzanne with his nocturnal terrors. Once or twice she had almost woken up, and he had held his breath, praying that she would stay asleep. The fact was he knew that if she got even the slightest inclination that he was unravelling then she would demand that he take a break and seek professional help.
He tried to calm his heart, but he could feel it thumping, the blood whooshing through his skull like a whirlpool where his reality was being drawn away by forces he couldn't control, leaving behind only his inner turmoil.
'Just need a holiday,' he mumbled and then winced as the bitter voice inside laughed at the pathetic notion.
He went to take another drink and grimaced when he realised the glass was empty.
Turning, he saw Suzanne standing in the doorway, looking at him keenly, a no-nonsense expression on her face.
'What's the matter?' she asked.
Caught unawares, he cleared his throat, sensing the furtive look on his face. 'Nothing's the matter.'
'Last night I watched you crying in your sleep.'
Bannister felt the urge to dash out through the French doors, he envisioned himself clambering over the back fence and onto the lane, running until his legs gave way and he collapsed into the snow. 'I don't know what you're talking about,' he managed to get the words past the rising panic.
'It's not the first time, three nights ago you did the same thing. I wanted to wak
e you, but I knew you needed to rest.'
Walking forwards, he bustled into the kitchen and grabbed the brandy from the table before pouring himself a glass.
'I'll be fine,' he said.
'You don't look fine.'
Lifting the glass to his lips he managed to take a sip, when really, he wanted to down it in one. 'Come on, you know things are rough at the moment, once we catch the killer then I'll book us a holiday and…'
'A holiday won't fix this, and you know it.'
Pulling out a chair, he slumped down, he could hear Belle and Kelly chatting in the next room, their voices full of Christmas cheer.
He watched as his wife crossed the room slowly before taking one of the chairs opposite. 'Six months ago, you told me that if things hadn't improved then you would quit the job and…'
'And lose my pension? Come on, Sue, think about what you're saying.'
She looked at him, her eyes still calm though he could see the seriousness in the depths. 'Money isn't everything, you can't spend it when you're six feet underground.'
'Now you're just being ridiculous, I'm fine, I will admit I need a couple of weeks off, but…'
'What have you been dreaming about?' she interrupted.
Bannister could feel the walls of the house closing in around him, the need to bolt mounting as he took another hurried drink. 'No one ever remembers their dreams,' he offered lamely.
'Don't try and be clever, you know exactly what I'm talking about.'
'Yeah, well, I have no recollection of crying in my sleep, I mean, it's preposterous.'
'Are you saying I'm imagining it?'
As soon as he shrugged he realised his mistake, he saw the hurt in her eyes, hurt that quickly changed to anger. 'I know your job is high-pressured, I also know that you've having trouble switching off when you get home. But seeing as you won't confide in me then I'll have to hazard a guess. You feel swamped and worthless, you used to feel confident in your abilities to do the job and you thought you were making a real difference to people's lives.'
'I…'
'Ever since Susan Coyle was killed, the doubt has been eating away at you, it made you realise that you can't protect the people you work with, the people you feel responsible for.'
Bannister felt his body start to shake and then with a gigantic effort he squared his shoulders, his chin jutting. 'I came to terms with what happened to Susan months ago.'
'Really?'
'Of course I did.'
'So, why have you called her name out in your sleep on three separate occasions in the last two weeks?'
Bannister lurched back in the chair, his eyes springing wide. 'What!?'
'You heard me, I can give you the dates and times if you want me to?'
'''Dates and times''!' his voice rose as the anger took control and started to break through the brittle surface. 'Christ, you've been spying on me.'
Tilting her head, she looked closely at her husband, she could see his cheeks burning with an amalgamation of anger, shame and embarrassment, his mouth twisted, teeth almost bared.
'You need help, Alan,' she said in a calm, considered voice.
Suddenly, the house seemed deadly silent, the sound of the girls chatting and laughing had ceased, Bannister somehow knew that they were listening to every word that was being said.
The realisation should have calmed him down, made him see sense, yet the truth was it seemed to stoke the burning anger inside. 'Next, you'll be telling me you've filmed me on your phone, recording my meltdown for prosperity, is that it?' he snapped.
Suzanne didn't flinch at the burst of anger that lanced out at her across the table. 'All I'm doing is trying to help, you need…'
'Some bastard help you are!' he bellowed. 'Yes, I feel knackered, but you're trying to make out I have a screw loose.'
'That's not what I'm saying, but listen to yourself, you're getting furious rather than acknowledging the problem.'
Bannister lunged upright, his fists planted on the table, the inner voice screaming for him to calm down, yet he was too far gone, too blind, to step back and see how he was reacting. 'I have no fucking problems, I'm perfectly fine and you spouting bullshit is ridiculous.'
'Is it really?'
'Yes, it fucking is!' saliva flew from his mouth, his eyes bulging.
When he saw Kelly appear in the doorway, he quickly closed his mouth, the sweat running freely down his face as he tried a sickly smile. 'Kelly, I…'
'Mum's right, you need help, Dad.'
Bannister tried to keep the lid on the pressure cooker inside his head, tried to dampen the flames of fury, but the look of concern on his daughter's face just seemed to add fuel to the fire.
'You lot are in this together then, I might have bloody well known it!'
'You need to calm down,' Suzanne said as she eased the chair back and stood up.
'I tell you right now, if you were a bloke, then I would knock the shit out of you for the things you've done.'
'The things I've done?' she asked in confusion.
'Spying on me, trying to make out I'm losing my fucking marbles!'
'Breathe, Alan, you need to control your…'
'Get fucked!' he roared, storming towards the kitchen door.
When he saw Kelly lurch to one side, her eyes wide in fear, he felt a small part of himself curl up and die inside.
Belle was standing in front of the Christmas tree, her face pale with shock, tears sparkling in her eyes.
Grabbing the keys to the Range Rover, he almost ran to the front door, snatching it open before lurching out into the snow. Seconds later, he started the engine and pulled off the drive, his face clouded with fury, the tears running down his grizzled cheeks.
44
'Did you enjoy the concert, Dot?' Lasser asked as he eased down the road in second gear.
Dorothy Marsh was sitting in the back of the Audi, a smile of wonderment on her face. 'Oh, it was so beautiful and the people there were lovely, especially the vicar, she even cooked me a wonderful meal before the service,' she finished with a sigh of utter contentment.
Jackie smiled as they reached the junction and Lasser turned right. After the service had finished, he had told Mia that he would drop Dorothy back at home.
He had seen the relief in Mia's eyes. 'That would be wonderful, the truth is I didn't fancy driving in all this snow.'
'I heard you singing along to the carols,' Lasser said as he glanced into the mirror.
'I love music,' Dorothy paused, 'I once asked my husband for a wireless, but he said no.'
Jackie heard Lasser sigh and she understood why, she tried to imagine a life with someone who abused you to the clock, as if it was simply another thing to be done, like feeding the chickens or servicing the tractor. And who refused her even a little chink of happiness like music.
'Never mind, Dot, he isn't around anymore to tell you what you can and can't have.'
Looking into the mirror, she caught Lasser's eye and nodded.
'You're right, if I want a wireless then I can just go and buy one,' her voice sounded full of amazement.
Lasser eased his foot down on the gas as the road started to climb out of town.
When he felt Jackie's hand close over his on the gear lever, he smiled feeling a sense of calm descend.
'Are you two married?' Dorothy suddenly asked.
Lasser felt his cheeks grow warm. 'Er no, Dot, we're not married.'
'Well, you should be.'
Jackie hid a smile behind a raised hand as Lasser's face started to burn with awkwardness.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled onto the track that led to Marsh farm, the inside of the car felt warm and snug yet Lasser shivered as he saw the house growing closer. The place was in darkness, the roof covered with thick snow, no sign of smoke coming from the chimney.
Glancing at Jackie, he saw the shock in her eyes as she looked out at the grim reality of how Dorothy had been forced to live.
'Have you got any heating in
the house?' Jackie asked, turning in her seat as Lasser pulled up in front of the ramshackle property.
Dorothy looked unconcerned as she shook her head. 'No central heating but I have a bar fire in my room.'
'Look, are you sure you're going to be OK in there?' Lasser asked.
'Oh, I'll be fine,' she replied, unclipping her seat belt.
When Jackie pushed the door open Lasser did the same.
'What are you two doing?' Dorothy asked.
'I'll make us all a warm drink and Lasser can nip to your room and put the electric fire on.'
'But you don't have to do that, it's late and you need to get home.'
'Come on, Dot, after all that singing I need to wet my whistle,' Lasser explained as he climbed out, the icy wind blowing over the open ground taking his breath away.
Once inside the house, Jackie put the kettle on as Lasser dashed upstairs to click the heater on in Dot's bedroom.
Standing at the bedroom window he looked out over the fields, it seemed ironic but from here the vista looked magical and he could imagine that in the summer it would look even more impressive. Though he doubted whether Dot had ever stood here and admired the countryside with a smile on her face.
Then he thought of Odette and the conversation they would have tomorrow, he tried to fathom how she would react to his assumptions and found that he couldn't.
His face was clouded with uncertainty as he left the room, closing the door quietly before heading back down the stairs to find Dorothy sitting at the kitchen table, hands clasped, eyes closed, her lips moving silently.
He glanced at Jackie who looked at him and shrugged, her face imprinted with anxiety as the elderly woman continued to pray.
Moving closer to the table, Lasser stopped. 'Dot, are you OK?'
When he saw the tears slide out from beneath her closed lids, he leaned down and placed a hand on her shoulder.
'Come on, things are going to be fine,' he said, and then looked around the squalid room and felt the foolishness of his token words.
Desolate Hearts Page 14