As she opened it, she saw a strong glow coming from below.
She stepped inside and started down the stairs, closing the door softly behind her.
Somebody was sobbing down there. As she descended, she saw an old-fashioned coal cellar, undeveloped, a bare brick-walled square. The dust tickled her nostrils.
She was hesitant, aware that her legs were coming into view as she went down, but she was too far gone now to back out. There was a large lamp shining a violent light and, as her view of the cellar unfolded, she gasped, jumping down the last few steps.
It was Bill. Tied to a chair, his head hanging down, blood caked on his shirt and face.
She ran over to him, lifted his head, gave a small cry as she saw his injuries. ‘Bill, it’s Jayne. I’m going to get you out.’ Bill gave a weak nod as Jayne went to the back of the chair. She tugged at the knots. The rope had been looped round Bill’s ankles and wrists and threaded through the chair legs so that he was trussed up, unable to move any limb for fear of straining his joints too far.
‘Hurry,’ Bill said. His voice was hoarse, barely audible. ‘Gone to wash hands, that’s all, my blood on her.’
The knot was tight, but easier as the rope was thick, like a tow-rope. She found the end and tried to trace it back, pushing at it, her fingers clawing at the loops.
Footsteps above them. Trudy was coming back.
The rope slackened as she worked at the knot. Bill sighed as the strain on his muscles lessened.
The door creaked above. Bill shrugged off the rope but then shook his head. Not yet. He resumed his position on the chair, his arms pulled backwards, his feet too, his teeth gritted. Jayne realised that he was setting a trap.
Jayne pulled out her phone and took a picture of Bill, the brightness of the lamp stopping the flash from going off, before she scrambled to the space behind it, pressed against the bricks that supported the stairs, taking advantage of whatever shadows there were.
She pressed send and shoved her phone into her pocket, not wanting the glow of the screen to give her away.
Trudy’s steps were slow and deliberate as she came back down the stairs.
Jayne saw her knife first. Light glinted from the blade. She tensed, getting ready for whatever Bill had planned.
Trudy walked over to Bill and stood in front of him, the knife by her side. ‘One more word and I’ll kill you, and you can join the rest.’
Bill nodded, weak and meek. Trudy knelt in front of him, using the butt of the knife blade to lift his forehead.
‘Not so clever anymore, are you?’
Then she stopped. Her gaze moved. She’d spotted something. Jayne followed her gaze and saw what it was: the bunched-up rope on the floor.
Jayne shouted, making Trudy turn off-balance. Bill moved on the chair and swung with the rope, the bundle catching Trudy on the side of the head and knocking her to the floor, her knife tumbling from her hand.
Bill stumbled from the chair and headed for the stairs. Jayne was just behind him, but he was slow. Wincing, hobbling, his legs stiff from being tied up all night. Jayne pushed him forwards, ‘Go, go’, aware only of Trudy’s scream of rage and the promise of daylight at the top.
* * *
Dan’s laptop pinged with a message from Jayne. He clicked off the link that connected his screen to the televisions and stared at it.
She’d sent two pictures. Sean’s boat, and a cottage. It looked familiar but he couldn’t place it. He remembered her message from before and how the cottage appeared in Sean’s book.
He turned back to Sean Martin. ‘Where is your boat now?’
Sean’s eyes widened. He stammered when he said, ‘I don’t know exactly.’ He looked around the courtroom as if hoping he’d find the answer somewhere, but all he had were the gazes of everyone in the courtroom fixed on him.
‘Is there anywhere you liked to cruise to, so you could spend time together?’
‘We cruised all over the place.’
‘What about a place you put in your book, in the section set aside for photographs?’
Sean didn’t answer, so Dan made the picture of the cottage fill his screen and turned on the Clickshare software again, bringing the television screens to life once more.
‘What about this place?’
Sean swayed as he looked at the television screen. His tongue went to his lip, nervous and edgy, and he looked to the door, as if calculating whether he could make a run for it.
‘Mr Martin? Do you recognise it?’
When he still didn’t answer, Dan navigated to the other picture and made it fill the screen. ‘That’s the boat, isn’t it?’
Sean nodded.
‘It’s by that cottage. Have you been there before?’
He coughed. ‘Yes, a few times.’ His voice had developed a tremble, almost a stammer. ‘It’s just somewhere on the canal, somewhere secluded.’
‘If I ask the police to go there now, will they find anything?’
He shook his head.
‘If I ask Detective Inspector Murdoch to leave the courtroom now and send officers to that location, while you’re still here, unable to use your phone and without any other way of getting a message out, will those officers find any trace of you or Trudy?’
His breathing had quickened. ‘It’s just a place, somewhere to go.’
The peace of the courtroom was broken by Murdoch rushing through the door, her phone in her hand. She’d got Dan’s hint.
But then something else struck him. Jayne was there, and she was alone.
* * *
Jayne ran quickly up the stairs, past Bill, who was going too slow. She stopped and grabbed his arm, tried to pull him the rest of the way. He stumbled, groaning in pain.
Downstairs, they heard a thump as Trudy got to her feet, screeching in anger.
‘Come on, come on!’
They tumbled through the door and into the hallway as the sound of Trudy running up the stars echoed in the cellar. Jayne turned and threw herself against the door, hoping to slam home the bolt, but Trudy pushed on the other side. Jayne screamed at Bill to help her, but he was on the floor, holding on to his leg. Before he could join her, Jayne was thrown backwards as Trudy charged through.
Trudy was enraged, her knife held outwards, growling. Bill scuttled backwards. ‘Get away, get away!’
Trudy’s focus was entirely on Bill, who was scrambling backwards into the room at the back of the house, where Jayne had hidden not long before.
Trudy grabbed the ruins of Bill’s shirt and pulled him up off the floor. She held the knife against his throat, ready to slash. ‘You bastard!’
That made Jayne move.
She ran forwards.
Trudy turned towards her, surprised, pulling the knife away from Bill’s neck. Jayne grabbed the doorframe and swung, kicking out with both feet. She caught Trudy in the ribs with a satisfying crack. Trudy went to the ground, yelling in pain.
Bill crawled towards the doorway, getting ready to run, but Trudy reached out and grabbed his shirt again. She yanked him backwards before advancing towards Jayne, her knife held out.
Jayne wasn’t going to leave Bill behind. She backed up against the nearest wall, her arms out.
Bill pushed himself to his feet and went to the wall opposite. Jayne moved as if she was about to rush across the room to join him, but Bill shook his head.
Jayne understood. Stay apart. Make two targets. Divide her attention.
Bill put his head back against the wall, panting hard. ‘Give up, Trudy. It’s the end.’
Trudy lashed out with the knife. ‘I won’t be separated from Sean. Not again.’
Bill dodged it and moved along the wall as Jayne spoke up, shifting Trudy’s attention at the crucial moment.
‘Can’t you see that it’s all over?’ Jayne said.
‘Bullshit.’
Trudy wanted to attack, Jayne could tell from the tension in her body, but didn’t want to make herself a target.
‘Why
haven’t you killed Bill?’ Jayne was backing towards the door as she spoke. ‘You’re a killer. So why is he still alive?’
Trudy was looking more hesitant, turning all the time, the knife held outwards.
Jayne kept on backing up, making Trudy move with her, distracting her, getting her ever closer to the doorway. ‘Dan Grant knows where I am. However it goes, you’re finished. All you can do is get the best deal.’
Trudy was looking back towards Bill and then again at Jayne, trying to track two targets who were getting further apart.
‘It was all Sean, we know that,’ Jayne said. ‘All you did was fail to stop him, got swept along by him.’
Trudy laughed. ‘Credit me with some invention.’
Jayne had reached the stairs. She stopped when she felt the sharp jab of a wayward stair spindle in her back. Trudy was edging towards her. As Jayne moved back, the rail made a loud crack as it bent out even further.
This was the moment. She had to get it right. Trudy was focused on her, not on Bill. Jayne would engage her in a fight and give Bill the chance to get away or at least to get into open space. He was an old man, wheezing hard. He needed a head start.
Jayne twirled round and grabbed the spindle. She moved quickly, twisting it until it cracked in her hand. It snapped away from the rail and she held it like a baseball bat.
The spindle was old wood, heavy but dried out, with two twisted nails sticking from the end.
She swung it towards Trudy a couple of times, hoping to make her back up, but Trudy kept on coming.
Bill ran across the room, stumbling and limping, and through the doorway. It was enough to distract Trudy, making her turn. Jayne swung the spindle hard. She missed but Trudy stepped backwards. Jayne took another swing as Bill barged his way into the hallway. The spindle crashed against the doorframe.
Trudy swung out with the knife, slashing at Bill, but just caught air. She started after him, her eyes wild, enraged.
Jayne swung the spindle again, and heard it connect with satisfaction. Trudy dropped to the floor, screaming, one of the nails embedded in her cheek.
Jayne turned and ran after Bill, who was waiting for her in the doorway, leaning over and sucking in air.
‘Come on,’ Jayne shouted. ‘My car.’
They both ran along the front of the cottage. They had no plan other than getting away. All they had to do was reach the car.
Footsteps behind, angry shouts.
‘I can’t do it,’ Bill cried.
Jayne stopped, and waved her arm in encouragement. ‘Come on, come on.’
‘No, you go ahead.’
‘Bill!’
‘I’m an old man. I can’t run. You go.’
Jayne went to him and grabbed his arm. ‘I’m not leaving you.’
Bill struggled on, but as they went round the side of the house, he slid on some loose turf and thudded to the ground.
Jayne stopped, went to grab him again, but faltered as she looked down.
Bill had dislodged a strip of turf, as if it had just been dug out and re-laid, loose soil underneath. It wasn’t the grass that drew her attention though, but what lay underneath.
It was skin, grey and pale, with short tufts of hair peering through the thin layer of soil. As she looked in horror, she realised that the strip of turf was around six feet long, slightly raised, as if freshly dug out. She looked around and saw that the undulating ground around her was different from how she’d first seen it, that it wasn’t the natural dips of old farmland but that the bumps and hollows were all the same size.
Graves.
The photographs from the book came back to her. Sean and Trudy posing on grass by the canal, picnicking on a mound, happy and carefree. This was where they buried the bodies. The book really was a taunt.
She brushed away the soil, then put her hand over her mouth, worried that she was going to vomit. ‘It’s Pat Molloy.’
She didn’t have time to say anything more.
Trudy appeared, running, but surprised to see Jayne and Bill still there.
Bill scrambled backwards, but Trudy was on him.
She grabbed Bill’s hair and pulled it back. She held the knife against his neck.
‘Don’t run or I’ll kill him.’ Trudy was still dazed, blinking hard, blood running down her cheek.
‘This is where you killed Pat. And what about the rest?’ Jayne gestured to the other mounds. ‘How many more will we find?’ When Trudy didn’t answer, she said, ‘It’s over. You’re going away for a long time. Accept it. Don’t make it worse.’
Bill shook his head, wincing as the knife dug into his skin. His body sagged, and there were tears in his eyes when he said, ‘Jayne, just go.’
There was another sound. Sirens. Blue lights flashed somewhere in the distance. Trudy looked over and realised what was happening. She pulled Bill’s head back, her hand trembling on the knife, her teeth bared in a snarl.
Jayne put her hands out, pleading, ‘No, no, no. Stop. Give yourself up.’
Tears ran down Trudy’s cheeks before she slashed with the knife, cutting deep into Bill’s throat, blood flicking from the blade as she raised it high.
Jayne screamed. ‘WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?’
Bill’s eyes bulged, then he coughed. Blood spewed out of the wound.
Trudy grimaced and plunged the knife in deeper this time, just under Bill’s ear.
Bill’s eyes clouded and then went out of focus. His body slumped in Trudy’s grip, who finally let go and stood straight. She kicked Bill, who fell forward, blood arcing as he went, landing with a thump on Pat Molloy’s partially uncovered corpse.
Jayne stood there in shock not able to believe what she’d seen. Then she lost all reason. She ran at Trudy, aiming for her ribs again, just hoping to make it hurt.
Trudy looked up, surprised, and was thrown off-balance as Jayne crashed into her. They went to the ground together, the knife knocked from Trudy’s hand, Jayne on top. She punched Trudy, her fist connecting with her cheekbone, the hard smack satisfying. Two more punches as Trudy thrashed, and with the next one she groaned and stopped struggling.
Jayne rushed to Bill. ‘Come on, stay alive,’ but he didn’t move. She looked down and saw how much blood was on the ground, and the glassiness of Bill’s eyes. He was dead.
Trudy lay on the ground, curled in a foetal position and whimpered. Jayne’s anger erupted. She kicked her hard, her foot crunching into Trudy’s cheek.
Trudy’s head snapped backwards. She went limp, only her hoarse breaths letting Jayne know that she was still alive.
The sirens got louder.
Jayne hung her head and took in gulps of air, tears streaming down her cheeks. There was the sound of heavy footsteps running over the field. She didn’t look up as the police officers went to Trudy.
* * *
Dan leaned forward, one hand on the table, more snarl to his voice. ‘That’s all the cottage is to you, Mr Martin? Are you sure?’
Sean nodded but didn’t respond.
A message pinged on his laptop. He turned off the Clickshare software, and the televisions went blank again. He opened the message, and the courtroom swam in front of him. He clenched his fist and fought the urge to run at Sean Martin and pummel him.
Take some deep breaths, he told himself, stay calm. He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, his vision was clear, focused.
‘Do you know Bill Maude?’
Sean shook his head and tried to shrug a reply, feigning disinterest, but he looked like he knew what was coming next.
‘Is that an answer?’
Sean swallowed, his eyes darting around the room until he said, ‘No, I don’t.’
‘Would a picture help, to see if you recognise him?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
Dan filled his laptop with the photograph of Bill, bloodied and scarred. He jabbed the Clickshare button and clenched his jaw as the picture filled the television screen in the courtroom.
S
ean moaned and swayed in the box. There were gasps from the public gallery. Francesca muttered, ‘Jesus Christ.’
‘This picture has just been taken by my investigator,’ Dan said, a tremble to his voice now, but it was anger, not fear. ‘At the cottage where your boat is moored.’
Sean looked down and took deep breaths.
Dan banged the desk, making everyone jump. ‘You killed them, Sean Martin.’
‘No, no, no.’
‘You killed them all. Annie Yates. Sharon Coates. Claire Watkins. Charlotte Crane. Your own stepdaughter. And there were more.’
Sean shook his head violently. ‘You don’t understand.’
Dan was leaning forward, his thighs jammed against the desk, trying to get as close as he could. ‘You’re a murderer. A fraud and a killer.’
Sean looked around the courtroom, his mouth open, and let out a moan.
Dan slammed his fist on the table. ‘Did you kill my boss? Did you, dammit? Talk.’
‘Mr Grant, calm down.’ It was the judge.
‘Where is he, Sean?’
‘Mr Grant!’
‘Talk!’ Dan wasn’t paying any attention to the judge. ‘All these women. Pat Molloy. Bill Maude. Your stepdaughter, the one you’ve lied about to the press.’ Another thump of the desk. ‘Where is he? Where’s Pat Molloy?’
Sean looked as if he was about to faint, but instead he bolted from the witness box, heading for the door by the public gallery. Someone screamed. The court assistant pressed a buzzer that would bring the security guards.
They weren’t needed.
As Sean passed the public gallery, Lizzie Barnsley’s father leaped forward and stuck his arm out, connecting with Sean’s jaw and sending him crashing to the floor.
There were more shouts and screams. The doors banged as the security guards rushed through. The judge disappeared along his corridor.
Dan jumped out from behind his table and rushed to where Sean was being restrained on the floor. He gripped him by his lapel and snarled in his face, ‘They’d better both be safe, or I’m coming after you.’
The Darkness Around Her Page 34