The Darkness Around Her

by The Darkness Around Her (retail) (epub)

  ‘Did he catch her?’

  ‘He dragged her to the floor. He had something in his hand, but I couldn’t see what. His arm pushed down into her, up and down, violent stabs, until she wasn’t moving any more. I couldn’t believe it. A girl. His stepdaughter. I wanted to scream but no one else had seen it, which meant it was all down to me again. Someone came along though, a man walking a dog, on the towpath, far in the distance, so Sean cradled her, wailing and making out like he’d just found her.’

  ‘What happened to the weapon?’

  ‘I don’t know. The boat set off and cruised past. Perhaps he threw it on to the boat because it just kept on going.’

  ‘You could have told the police all this.’

  ‘I know, but I was scared, and eventually there wasn’t a need because he was caught. I went to see Sean’s lawyer, Mr Molloy, but I got it all wrong, told him that it was all my fault, that I was responsible, and I was, but he thought I was some fruitcake.’

  ‘Why did you speak to his lawyer though?’

  ‘He had to know what kind of monster he was defending, but I messed it up. In the end, it didn’t matter; Sean was in prison where he belonged.’

  ‘But Sean won his appeal.’

  ‘I know, but what could I do then? No one would believe me, and he knew it. He was back with Trudy, publicly this time, so I started to follow him again. I knew he was carrying on like before, but I just never caught him, until it all went wrong that night with Lizzie. He was cruising, just looking out for someone, and he would have snatched her, so she would have died anyway.’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose I took away her chance to escape. I wish I could go back and change it all. Not just to the night I killed Lizzie but all the way back, to when Trudy killed Claire.’

  ‘And when you struggled with Lizzie?’

  ‘All the frustration, panic, worry, fear, despair, it rushed in like a wave, as if it wasn’t me anymore, and I held her, couldn’t stop myself. I’m not a murderer. I killed Lizzie, but I didn’t set out to do that. You’ve got to believe me. What I did was unforgivable, but it was because of Sean Martin and Trudy. Whatever people thought about him before he won his appeal, he’s that man, and more.’

  ‘And you know that the prosecution might call Sean Martin to give his side of the story?’

  Peter spat out a bitter laugh. ‘He won’t come to court. He thinks he’s the clever one in front of people like me, those who he thinks are below him, but coming here is different.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell the police all this, back when you were interviewed?’

  ‘I’ve kept these secrets for a long time now. How could it help me? I knew I didn’t murder Claire, or Rosie, or any of the others Sean and Trudy killed, although I didn’t save them. But Lizzie? That was different. That was on me. It was all the guilt and rage and frustration coming out. I wish I could change it, but I can’t.’

  Dan nodded and said, ‘Thank you. Just remain there. My learned friend might have some questions for you.’

  Francesca stared at her notes for a moment before she stood in front of Peter.

  Her questions faded into the background as Dan thought about what Peter had said. Pat had been right about Sean Martin, but everyone had misread Trudy.

  He had no interest in whatever Francesca asked. It was all about the next part. He wanted Sean Martin behind bars, and Trudy.

  He was doing it for Pat.

  Fifty-seven

  The courtroom emptied as Dan remained at his bench. He needed the solitude. Unsure of his next step, it felt like he’d lost control of the case. It had stopped being about Peter and had become about Sean and Trudy. He didn’t know whether that was a good thing or not.

  He called Jayne. When she answered, he said, ‘Any movement?’

  ‘Murdoch arrived a while ago, with some hot young detective. They weren’t there long though.’

  ‘It will have been about going to court tomorrow. What happened when they left?’

  ‘He waved them off and closed his door. Since then, not a peep.’

  ‘Are both Sean and Trudy there?’

  ‘I haven’t seen Trudy. So, what now?’

  He thought about that. ‘I wanted their immediate reaction but, if there hasn’t been one, there isn’t much point in you staying there. Come back to mine. We’ll think of another strategy. I need to nail Sean Martin tomorrow, but I don’t know what with.’

  ‘And if we can’t?’

  ‘I’ll make the accusations on Peter’s behalf. Sean will deny them. The jury will reject Peter’s evidence and Sean will carry on as before.’

  ‘What about Trudy, if I leave?’

  ‘Unless you know where she is, what are you going to find out by staying? We need to work out what to do. Just give me time to get home.’

  He clicked off and tapped his phone against his lip. Before he could work out his next move, his phone rang. As soon as he pressed the answer button, the unmistakable smoky wheeze of Murdoch filled his head.

  ‘Dan, we need your help on this one. We have the same objective, and that’s getting Sean Martin in a cell. Let’s discuss.’

  ‘What about the prosecutor? Francesca won’t be happy about you bypassing her.’

  ‘Are you going to tell her?’

  ‘Well, no.’

  ‘There you go then. Our little secret.’

  ‘What did Sean Martin say when you went to see him?’

  ‘How did you know I’d been to his house,’ Murdoch said, surprise in her voice. ‘Are you watching me?’

  ‘No, I’m having him watched. Did he make a written statement?’

  ‘I told him he ought to speak to his lawyer first.’

  ‘Except his lawyer has gone missing.’

  ‘I made that point and told him to be at court in the morning.’

  ‘How did he react?’

  ‘He seemed nervous, but he kept his cool, almost rehearsed, as if he’d braced himself for the conversation. That’s where he got it wrong.’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘Let’s imagine he’s innocent, just for a moment. Your client is making false accusations against him, and they’re just like the ones that got him locked up. What would you expect?’

  Dan thought about that. ‘Outrage, maybe. Dismay, at least.’

  ‘An emotion, is what you’re saying. That’s not what I got. It was like a barrier going up.’

  ‘Did you mention Claire Watkins? That Peter’s described her murder in court?’

  ‘I did. He said he knew her to talk to.’

  ‘At least he’s admitting a connection. It means that something Peter said was true, which, when you think about it, is good for you. Peter has stayed silent throughout this case, which means he has never told a lie. If the jury believes him, you’ve got a credible witness against Sean Martin.’

  ‘Have you spoken to anyone?’

  ‘An old friend of Claire’s.’

  ‘Have you got a name?’

  Dan shuffled through his papers until he found Jayne’s notes. ‘Here we are, Mandy Rogers,’ and read out her address. ‘Mandy and Claire used to speak to Sean when Trudy lived on the next street and Sean moored his boat nearby. Peter liked Claire. I think that’s why Sean chose her, because he thought Peter wouldn’t be able to resist.’

  ‘Like some damn offering.’

  ‘Why didn’t the police speak to Mandy?’

  ‘We did.’

  ‘Why did you ask for her name then?’

  ‘To check that we hadn’t missed anyone.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘That Sean Martin was creepy.’

  ‘And he wasn’t a suspect?’

  Murdoch didn’t answer straightaway. ‘Let’s focus on what we have now.’

  ‘You said this was about sharing. Have you got anything you want to tell me that I don’t know already?’

  ‘I just wanted what you had.’

  ‘That wasn’t the deal. What about Pat?’

  Murdoch’
s tone softened. ‘Sorry, Dan, nothing so far. Have you thought of anything else?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry, and I’m worried.’

  ‘You’ve every right to be,’ she said, and clicked off.

  He left the courtroom. The corridor was deserted apart from a cleaner emptying the bins, the peace broken only by the rustle of a large black bag.

  He headed for the stairwell that led to the cell complex. It was cool and deliciously quiet, the drama of the courtroom behind him, but thoughts of Pat continued to trouble him as he went downstairs.

  He’d taken the first step towards nailing Sean Martin. He didn’t know how many more he had to make, but Pat was still missing, and he was certain that Sean Martin was somehow connected.

  For now, though, he had to be the lawyer and speak to his client.

  His footsteps echoed in the stairwell, and by the time he was buzzed through he was ready to sag into the chair in front of the glass screen. It seemed an age before Peter appeared on the other side, although it was probably no more than two minutes.

  Peter seemed brighter, almost excited.

  Dan put his file on the narrow shelf in front of the glass. ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘Better,’ he said, nodding. ‘It’s what I wanted to do all along, but I didn’t know how to do it.’

  ‘You weren’t open with me, or the police. You weren’t prepared to talk about Claire Watkins, about your involvement in her death.’

  ‘I didn’t take part though.’

  ‘You didn’t stop it. Morally, that’s close enough.’

  He thought about that and some of his brightness faded. ‘My conscience isn’t clear, and it never will be, but at least I’ve tried to get there.’ He leaned forward so that his breath misted the glass. ‘Will you get them, Mr Grant?’

  ‘I don’t know, Peter, but I promise you that I’ll try my best.’

  He sat back as he thought about that before saying, ‘That will have to do.’

  Fifty-eight

  Bill tried to move his head as the sounds became clearer, but a sharp jab of pain made him stop. He tried to lift his hand but couldn’t.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been out but there were more voices now. They started as soft mumbles that came in waves, getting louder each time, as if he were walking past a busy room.

  The voices were angry.

  ‘What the hell have you done?’ A male voice.

  ‘He was snooping around the boat.’ He recognised Trudy’s voice. ‘Why do you think he was down here?’

  ‘People will know he’s missing, and if he’s told them where he’s gone, the police will send a squad down. You’ve blown this. I can’t believe it.’

  ‘Look at him. Some sad old loner. Do you really think anyone knows where he is? But it’s you who can’t see what’s going on. It’s all coming to an end. All of this. Us. It’s over.’

  ‘You’re overreacting.’

  ‘Am I? Really? Let’s ask him.’

  Bill grunted in pain as he was kicked on the thigh.

  ‘Wake up, you stupid bastard.’

  Bill opened his eyes and winced. One eye felt glued together. Dried blood, he guessed.

  He tried to straighten but pain flashed across his forehead. He was sitting on the floor, still in the kitchen of the boat. He pulled at his arms, but they were tied behind his back around the metal pole that supported the kitchen unit.

  ‘What’s happening?’ His voice was a croak.

  Someone knelt in front of him. Trudy.

  ‘Tell him why you’re here.’

  Bill let his head hang down. ‘It was just something I needed to know. Whether any of the victims I’ve discovered died here.’

  ‘Which victims?’

  ‘Are you going to kill me?’

  ‘Just talk.’

  ‘There were many victims, too many, but you know that. They go back years.’

  She gripped Bill’s chin and made him look up. ‘What were you hoping to find?’

  ‘I don’t know. You never know until you find it.’

  ‘Did you find anything?’

  Bill sucked in air and tried to sit upright. He thought of his son and used his grief to find some inner strength. He wasn’t going to bullied by them, not after what they’d done. ‘Your camcorder.’

  Trudy blinked. She’d tried not to react, but Bill saw it.

  ‘Did you film your victims as you killed them?’

  There was more movement in front of him, and the outline of Sean Martin came into view.

  It was the first time he’d met him, and he seemed different from his media images, where he came across as warm and intelligent. His appearance now was different, his mood darker. He knelt in front of Bill and reached out for his head. He pulled away instinctively.

  ‘Be careful,’ Sean said. ‘You’ll bump your head again.’ His voice was quiet, but through menace, not concern.

  Bill sucked in some deep breaths. ‘I didn’t bump my head last time.’

  ‘Why, what happened?’ There was a trace of a smile.

  ‘You know what happened. She hit me.’

  As Bill looked around the boat, his focus better now, he saw a hammer on the floor. His baseball cap was next to it, knocked off when he was struck.

  Sean followed his gaze and asked, ‘What do you propose to do about it?’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘If we let you go, what are you going to do?’

  Bill closed his eyes for a moment. This was the moment when it would all get worse. They wouldn’t believe him if he begged them to let him go and promised not to tell anyone. He had to try a different lie.

  ‘I’ll have you arrested. You know that.’

  ‘Why should I let you go then?’

  ‘Because whatever you do from now on will just make it worse for you. What have you done so far? Trudy has hit me with a hammer and tied me up, but she’ll say that I’m a burglar and she was protecting herself. I can’t dispute that, because I did break in. They won’t even prosecute her for it, I reckon. They’ll say I got what I deserved, and you get to be the hero.’

  ‘Me, the hero? How does that work?’

  ‘You get to release me and take the credit. Those out there who still doubt you might change their minds.’

  Trudy paced behind them, the space tight and claustrophobic.

  Sean turned around to her. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Bullshit.’ She spat the word out. ‘Can you trust the police to let you walk away again? No. But no one is going to prison. Not again. Not ever.’

  Sean turned back to Bill. ‘You see, now we’ve got a whole new set of problems. Can you guess what they are?’

  Bill closed his eyes as his heartbeat increased, and his chest tightened with creeping terror.

  ‘Lost for words?’ Sean said, his head tilted, a malevolent gleam in his eye. ‘I’ll help you out. If no one is going to prison, that’s because no one is getting caught for this, which means that no one is going to hear from you.’ He smiled, but it was cold, taunting. ‘Can you see where I’m going with this?’

  Bill opened his eyes and tried a bluff. ‘What happens when the police get here? Dan Grant knows where I am.’

  Sean stood up and laughed. ‘Not that old cliché. Come on, whatever you’re called.’

  ‘Bill.’

  ‘Right, Bill, this is how it works. If anyone cared about you, you wouldn’t be doing it on your own, which means that no one is coming here looking for you.’

  ‘What about my car? And the CCTV of the entrance?’

  ‘You’re a clever old man, but not as clever as you think. Can you guess your mistake?’ He kicked him again, harder this time. ‘Can you?’

  Bill yelped in pain.

  ‘You’ve just pushed us to the point of no return.’ He turned to Trudy. ‘Start the boat. We’re going for a cruise.’

  ‘Where to?’

  He thought for a few seconds. ‘Downstream. We need to get away from this place.�
��

  ‘Please, just let me go.’

  Sean shook his head. ‘That isn’t going to happen. What I know for certain is that you won’t be coming back here. Not ever.’

  Bill closed his eyes.

  ‘How the hell do we do this?’ Trudy said.

  ‘Just get us away from the town.’

  ‘At four miles per hour, for Christ’s sake?’

  ‘We don’t want to attract attention. We just need to get somewhere quiet.’

  ‘Okay, the usual place.’

  The usual place? Bill didn’t like the sound of that. He fought back a sob.

  Sean bent down to rummage through Bill’s pockets. He tried to pull away, but he couldn’t.

  Sean found his phone in his trouser pocket, along with his wallet. He pressed the start button on the phone and frowned. ‘What’s the passcode?’

  Bill tried to think quickly, even though his mind was still fuzzy and unreal after the blow with the hammer. He knew Sean wanted to check his phone though: to see whether anyone knew he was there. If Sean gained access to the phone, he would know the answer: Jayne. Uncertainty was his best defence.

  ‘I can’t think. Hang on.’

  ‘Don’t mess me around.’

  ‘I’m not, but she hit me with a hammer. I’m still dizzy.’

  ‘What is the passcode?’ he repeated slowly.

  ‘I’m trying, but it stops being a number after a while and more like muscle memory, like your fingers know where to press.’ A deep breath. ‘Try one-eight-seven-three.’

  Sean tapped the numbers into the phone. ‘Nice try. Wrong number.’

  ‘Wait then, try one-eight-nine-five. It’s something like that.’

  Sean tried one more time. Wrong number again. He knelt on the floor in front of Bill. ‘We can play this nicely or we can play this horribly, but I’m going to get into this phone.’

  ‘I’ve told you, I can’t remember.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’ He reached around Bill to grab his bound wrists and forced them upwards, the rope sliding up the pole, his arms straining, as if they were about to pop out of their sockets, his body thrust forward.