‘Do you really think he’ll say anything if it works?’ Trudy said. ‘The lawyer who sold his client out? The lawyer who didn’t tell the police about someone being kidnapped? No, like most lawyers, he’ll look at ways to weasel out of it, because it’s what lawyers do, and pretending he didn’t know is the easiest way.’
‘If you’re sure it’ll work.’
‘We’re a bit short on options right now. We’ll deal with tomorrow and then work out the next move. For now, though, he’s better alive than dead.’
‘We could use him as a distraction. Let the police look for him and we might be able to run.’
‘Where to?’
‘Does it matter? I’m not going back to prison. I don’t care where we go, as long as we’re together.’
‘We’re not Bonnie and Clyde.’
‘And we’re not Brady and Hindley either. We need a plan though. We’ve always planned. We’re good together, a team, but this time you’ve messed up. This is too rushed.’
Trudy’s voice lowered. ‘I’ve messed up?’
‘You could have let him leave. You didn’t have to hit him.’
‘What’s done is done. We’ve got to deal with tomorrow. We’re not going to prison. No one will ever separate us again.’
Bill coughed and gasped. ‘They’ll discover you. I’ve got things at home, research through the years. I told people I was going to the marina. They’ll start looking if you don’t let me go.’
Trudy’s jaw clenched as she turned to Sean. ‘What did you do with his car keys?’
‘I threw them. I didn’t want to be caught with them.’
Trudy stood in front of Bill and slapped him across the cheek. The crack was loud in the bare space. ‘What do you know about tomorrow?’
Bill let his head hang down, exhausted. ‘That’s up to Dan Grant, you know that.’
‘But you know what Dan knows. What can Sean expect from the witness box?’
Bill took a deep breath and braced himself for another blow. ‘I’m not telling you.’
Sean stepped forwards, hands on hips. ‘What Peter says and what can be proved are two different things.’
‘We need to know first.’
Bill grimaced. He thought about what he could say, because all that mattered was staying alive. ‘He’s blaming you. Don’t you know that?’
Sean and Trudy exchanged glances before Sean said, ‘We know that much.’
Bill tried to clear his mind. Staying alert was the key to getting through this. ‘He’s going to link a number of missing people to you. Claire Watkins for one. Rosie too. Whatever Peter knows, he said it in court today.’
Sean put his hands out. ‘Were you there?’
Bill shook his head. ‘I helped Dan though. He’s got all the information I’ve gleaned over the years.’
‘And that’s it?’
He nodded.
‘Why were you at the marina then, if that’s all there is?’
‘Because I had to know. My son was killed by the canal. This thing has eaten me up!’
‘What have you found out?’
‘Just a list of names. People who’ve been murdered near or by the canal. I had no suspects. I spoke to Dan Grant and he was interested. This was all his idea, not mine, I just want to know what happened to my son.’ Tears ran down his cheeks. ‘Just let me go, please. I won’t say anything.’
Trudy bent down in front of Bill. ‘That’s why you’ve messed up,’ she said. ‘We had nothing to worry about. But now? Now we have everything to worry about because of you.’ She swung out wildly, hitting Bill’s face again with a loud smack. She turned to Sean. ‘He’s going to die. Just not yet. I want to know more about what he knows, and what Dan Grant thinks he can prove. Get it from him.’
Sean nodded his agreement and went past Trudy. As he looked down at Bill, he grinned.
Sixty-one
Jayne was driving too quickly as they headed to Bill’s house. Dan gripped the door handle and his legs tensed, his foot slamming an imaginary brake.
As they turned into his street, Dan pointed and said, ‘Look, I told you he’s fine. His car’s here.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ she said, as she skidded to a stop and rushed towards the front door. She banged on it but there was no reply. She went to his windows and peered through, her hands cupped around her eyes to block the glow of the nearby streetlight.
There was no one in. She could make out his sofa and the dark outline of the television. His car was there though, so he came home, at least.
She banged once more, even though she knew it was pointless. She thought about calling the police, her instinct telling her that something was amiss, but what would they do? An adult wasn’t at home? Hardly enough to start a manhunt.
Dan’s phone rang. It was Murdoch again.
‘Anything new?’ He sounded tetchy.
‘Do you remember the woman who went for a walk with her dog and never came home, Annie Yates? Turns out that she knew Trudy.’
He held up his hand to attract Jayne’s attention, who had gone back to looking through Bill’s windows. ‘Keep going.’
‘They’d gone to school together, but Annie moved away when she met her husband. Trudy had looked her up not long before, which had surprised Annie’s friends, because Trudy had been quiet at school, almost unnoticeable, whereas Annie had been one of the popular girls. Trudy found her on one of those Internet sites where you connect with old classmates. They met up a couple of times, but when she went missing Trudy faded into the background. And why wouldn’t she? There was no reason to suspect her.’
‘They must all have a connection to Sean and Trudy,’ Dan said. ‘These aren’t random abductions. They’ve sought people out. Do you know anything else about Trudy?’
‘If you’re looking for a narrative, some story of a girl reacting against a bad upbringing, you’d be mistaken. It was ordinary. Decent parents, suburban living. If you want my take, it was about the excitement, the thrill of the forbidden, something wild. There doesn’t always have to be a reason.’
‘Keep on looking.’
‘Don’t tell me how to do my job,’ she said, and hung up.
Jayne moved away from the window. ‘Good news?’
‘Another victim connected to Sean and Trudy. Annie Yates.’
‘Do you remember when we were going through the clippings?’ Jayne said, animatedly. ‘We talked about Charlotte Crane, the woman who went missing the same night that Lizzie was killed. Peter said Sean was out cruising because he followed the boat. Lizzie wasn’t killed by Sean, we know that now, and perhaps she was never in danger anyway. Too random. But if they select their victims, groom them almost, what if Charlotte was their target instead? We were trying to connect Charlotte’s disappearance to the others to rule out Peter, but can we connect her to Sean or Trudy?’
‘You’re right.’
‘And we don’t have to leave it to Murdoch to find everything out.’
‘That’s her job.’
‘No, that’s our job. There’s only one place to go.’
‘Where?’
‘Charlotte Crane’s house.’
* * *
Bill huffed as the chair he was strapped to was kicked over. His knees banged on the compacted ground and the dirt scratched his cheeks.
It didn’t seem real anymore. He sucked in deep breaths and tried to tell himself that he was still alive, to be strong, to get through this for Tom’s sake.
It was hard though. He put his forehead to the ground. Kill me, he thought, almost involuntarily, make it end and let me join Tom. No more pain. He had no information to give them apart from some names and his own theory.
It was the pain they enjoyed, the fear, the power they had over him.
He fought against the bindings, but it was no use. He lay there, staring straight ahead, wanting it to end. Do it, he thought again. Kill me.
Trudy grabbed his hair as Sean pulled the chair upright again. They were
both panting. Part-exertion, part-excitement.
‘It’s time for me to go,’ Sean said. ‘I need to rest for tomorrow. You stay with him.’
‘Are you sure I shouldn’t come to court?’
‘No. Divide and conquer is how they would win, because we’d trip up somewhere. Me on my own, I can’t do that. Just keep him alive in case Dan needs proof of it.’
‘Just keep me up to date.’
‘Yeah, you too. Let me know if he tells you more. I need to be prepared.’
Trudy nodded but didn’t reply. Her focus was entirely on Bill.
As Sean went up the stairs and out of the cottage for another walk along the towpath and a taxi ride, Trudy stepped closer. ‘Now you’re going to talk.’
‘How many times? I’ve told you everything.’ Blood drooled from his mouth.
Trudy slapped him, making his cheek sting.
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW!’
‘I’ve told you everything.’
‘So tomorrow, Dan Grant can only throw a few names at Sean, nothing more? He can only repeat Peter’s accusations?’
He nodded and let his head hang down. His lip trembled.
Trudy punched him in the ribs, making him cry out.
‘Just let me go. Please.’
Trudy rolled her eyes. ‘You’ve forgotten to say, “I won’t tell anyone.” And that’s because we both know that it isn’t true.’
Bill closed his eyes and took some deep breaths as he tried to make the pain go away, but it made it worse, his ribs sending out sharp jabs. He let out a sob. They say fight or flight, but he had nothing left for either. ‘Just tell me why.’
Trudy leaned in and whispered, ‘Now for the deep psychological discussion. I love this part. This is where I break down and tell you how he makes me do it. How I’m a victim too. Big bad Sean, the sicko.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘Oh, you did.’ She kneed him in the side, and when Bill arched his back in pain, Trudy gritted her teeth. ‘You think it’s got easier because it’s just me here, that I’m the soft one?’ She scoffed. ‘Bullshit. You want answers? I’ll give you answers. I like it. No, it’s more than that. I love it, because I’ve got the power. Little Trudy, for once I get what I want.’
‘You think? He’s making you do this, can’t you see?’
Trudy sat back on the floor and leaned against the wall by the stairs. Bill had to squint to see her, the light still trained on him.
‘You think you’ve got all the answers, old man, that I’m the weak one here?’ She shook her head. ‘You’ve got it so wrong. Can’t you see that I brought him here, knowing how he likes the rough stuff? Yes, he’s like a growling dog, but I’m holding the lead. He daren’t leave me because he knows how much I know, and I know it all.’
‘That makes you sound trapped.’
‘No, he’s trapped. I could leave anytime, except he doesn’t realise that. I’ve got all the power.’
‘And you like this?’
Trudy grinned, the gleam in her eyes obvious, despite the glare from the lamp. ‘I love it, old man.’
‘You sick bitch.’
Trudy laughed. It echoed round the cellar. ‘Don’t make me love it more. This is it. Don’t you get it? The fun we’ve had, with all these people hiding away in their lives. What’s the new term? Basic bitches? That’s it. That’s what they are. I saw them growing up, all so ordinary, wanting the job and the man and the kids and the oh-so-boring suburbia. Makes me sick. All so fucking basic.’
‘I don’t see that.’ He spat some blood on to the floor. ‘What do you have, really, that’s more? Stuck here, in Highford, with your man, standing by his side. Who did you say was holding the lead? Who’s the basic bitch?’
Trudy scrambled towards him and gripped him around the jaw.
He twisted out of it. ‘What are you scared of?’
‘Me? I’m not scared of anything, and that’s what you don’t understand.’
‘Why am I still alive then?’
Trudy didn’t respond.
‘It’s not about me being a hostage. Sean could make the threat to Dan whether I’m alive or dead, because it’s not as if you’re going to let me go if Dan does as he asks. You know I’m right. You’ve killed the others. Why not me? Because it’s the end, and you know it. All you’ve got left is your legacy, whatever you think that is. You won’t have each other so you want people to know what you’ve done. If you kill me but they still catch you, what have you got? Keep me alive and I can tell the story of how you really are. You’re worried about being labelled the little woman, the victim of his manipulation. Not if I’m around to tell the story.’
Trudy gripped his jaw again. ‘Or perhaps I just enjoy the torture, because when they’re dead, I feel used up. I feel empty.’ She laughed and pushed him away. ‘Yeah, the irony of it. And do you know what’s another irony? Go on, guess.’
‘I’m not playing your game.’
‘I’ll tell you anyway. Sean has to go to court tomorrow, so he’ll have an alibi, a good one. You’ll die in the morning and he’ll be in the clear. Do you know where he is now?’
Bill didn’t answer.
‘He’s gone to a hotel close to the courtroom, where they’ll track his credit card, and he’ll buy a film too, just to give him a time stamp. And the lobby will have CCTV that will catch him when he leaves in the morning, after his hearty breakfast in front of witnesses.’
Bill tried to swallow down his fear, determined not to let it show. ‘Where’s the irony?’
‘You came after Sean, to prop up Peter’s story, but now you’ll guarantee his freedom, because Dan Grant will do as he asks.’
‘What about you?’
‘It’s Sean they want, not me. We won’t let them prise our stories apart. No one knows you’re here, or else the police would be all over this place. You’re alive because I choose it, and the end will come when I choose it. Tell me, are you religious?’
‘Why?’
‘Just that if you are, you’ll see your loved ones again pretty soon. Some solace. If you’re not, well—’ and she laughed. ‘This is it.’
Bill closed his eyes. Some part of him wanted that to be true.
Sixty-two
Dan knocked on the door and stepped back. ‘We should have called ahead.’
‘What if he’d said no?’ Jayne said. ‘At least this way, we get to ask the questions and see his response.’
They’d found the newspaper reports from when Charlotte Crane went missing to find out which part of Highford she lived in, and a few minutes asking passing locals had got them her address. Dan had no idea what reception he’d get but Jayne was right, and it felt like they were keeping the case alive.
The house was a barn conversion, high and long, dominated by a window where the large barn doors had once been, with a view over a field with cows and bordered by drystone walls. The main door was solid wood but new, an attempt to blend with the style of the building.
Dan squinted as the door opened. There was a man in front of him, early fifties, small and squat, his grey hair swept into a side parting, his stomach protruding against a v-neck jumper.
‘Michael Crane? I’m Dan Grant, and this is Jayne Brett, an investigator. I’m a lawyer defending a murder case and I think it might be connected to your wife’s disappearance.’
For a moment, Dan thought the man was going to slam the door in his face. His jaw clenched and his fingers tightened on the doorframe. Then he stepped aside. ‘Come in.’
Dan and Jayne exchanged glances before making their way inside.
As they stepped into the living room, Michael folded his arms and said, ‘I know who you are.’ Before Dan could respond, he added, ‘I’m a reporter. I don’t do the court stuff, but I cover local news, so your name comes up sometimes.’
Dan looked around the room. He couldn’t see any pictures of Charlotte.
Michael must have guessed what he
was thinking, because he said, ‘There were no photographs of Charlotte on the wall before she went missing. I’m not going to turn my home into a tribute.’
Dan was surprised by his hostility. ‘I’m sorry if my questions are difficult for you, but it’s important.’
‘I don’t need the fake sympathy. You’re not here to tell me how sorry you are. You want information from me but let me ask you a question first. Why do you think Charlotte’s disappearance could be linked to one of your cases?’
‘You’ve heard of Sean Martin?’
He laughed, but it was bitter. ‘This is a joke, right? Your firm represented him. I know all about Sean Martin. I wrote about him when he was first convicted, and the newspaper sales were so good that the boss asked me to keep on writing about him, even after he was freed.’
‘What did you write?’
‘About how sick he was, a cold and calculated liar, and when he was acquitted I wrote how nothing had changed my mind. I had to stop though, because I got a letter from your firm. He threatened to sue the paper, said that we’d libelled him, but we hadn’t. He’s never been proved to be innocent, just not guilty, but the owner backed down and apologised. We agreed to run a story on him that was more favourable, and he was happy with that. You can guess that I wasn’t.’ He looked confused. ‘Why are you asking about Sean Martin?’
‘My client is accusing him of murder, of a few murders, in fact, and we are wondering if he might have been involved in your wife’s disappearance.’
Michael didn’t say anything for a few seconds, just stared at Dan and then Jayne. ‘Are you serious?’
‘I wouldn’t come to your home and joke about this. Did Charlotte know Sean?’
He scoffed and shook his head. ‘Sean Martin? Yeah, that would be about right.’
‘I’m sorry, I don’t understand.’
Michael’s tone was angrier when he said, ‘Charlotte was having an affair. I found out about it before she went missing, but I never knew who with. She was always on her phone, messaging constantly, and then she stopped coming to bed as early. One night, she was up later than normal but I couldn’t hear the television going, so I went downstairs, to check whether she’d fallen asleep on the sofa, and I caught her.’
The Darkness Around Her Page 30