The DI glanced towards the sash window. “Can I ask when this became a hotel?”
“Er, sure. It was 1999. There’d been a children’s home here for decades. My father had always thought it would make a fantastic hotel and restaurant. It was his big vision. He convinced my mother they should buy it, when the home closed.”
“I see. Is your mother still involved?”
“She passed away.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. Forgive me, I-”
“It’s okay. It’s been ten years now. I still miss her, but it’s no longer raw.” He shrugged.
“Do you know why the home closed?” Dewi was taking his own notes, his head bent over as he asked the question.
“There was a scandal. I don’t know all the ins and outs, but it centred around alleged sexual abuse.”
“Of the children?”
Mark nodded. “There was an investigation. My father said only one or two people were prosecuted in the end, even though a massive pedophile ring was rumoured to have taken advantage of the youngsters here. It was a major news item that appeared to go nowhere in the end. The guy who ran the home ended up in jail.”
“Who was that?” Yvonne paused her writing, her blue eyes intent on what Mark had to say.
“Oh God, erm…somebody Broadman. Tim Broadman?” He screwed up his face, looking at the ceiling.
“Not T.H.Davis?”
“T.H. Davis? No, definitely not T.H.Davis. He got away clean. They decided he hadn’t been involved, even though he’d been described by some of the kids.” He had both Yvonne and Dewi’s undivided attention. He gave them a look, as if to say ‘What have I said?’
“Who is T.H.Davis?” Yvonne’s voice was low and firm.
“Well, he was the local MP. At the time of the scandal, he was into his third term of office.”
“Your knowledge is very good.” The DI pressed her pen to her lips, pensive.
“My father kept cuttings. It was all part of the history of the place.”
Yvonne nodded. “Of course. Do you still have those cuttings?”
“Probably. Somewhere.” He put his hand over his mouth, his eyes moving side-to-side, as though trying to remember. “I’m not sure where they’d be, now. Filed away somewhere.”
“It’s okay.” Yvonne smiled. “I’m sure we can get the information from archives and the web.” She pulled photographs from her bag and handed them to Mark. “Do you recognise any of these people? The pictures were taken here, at your hotel. Do you remember anything?”
He pointed to the newest of the photographs. “Abuse survivors group. They meet here every few years. These were the people who came together to comfort each other and look for ways forward.”
“Were they trying to get the investigation reopened?”
“No. Nothing like that. At least, not the survivors. They avoided publicity like the plague. Or, at least, some of them did. I remember her.” He tapped his finger on the image of Kate Nilsson. “She’s not one of them.”
“No?”
“No. I got talking to her. Probably the night that picture was taken, I’d say. She was sat at the bar. Shoulders hunched and chin in her hands. I felt sorry for her and joined her for a while.”
“What was troubling her?” Yvonne stared at him intently.
“She’d had a row with one of the survivors. A fellow soldier, I think she said. One of her friends.”
“What was that row about?”
“She didn’t go into detail, but she said she wished the person would let her go public. I wondered if it was something to do with the abuse, but she was cryptic about it. Not really giving me anything to go on. She was very sad. She looked about ready to give up.”
Yvonne shifted in her chair. “Did she say who it was she’d rowed with?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“I see.”
“She’s a lovely girl. I’d love to meet her again.” He gave a wistful smile.
“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.” The DI’s eyes were downcast. “She’s dead.” She let out a slow sigh.
“Dead?” The shock in his face appeared to be genuine.
“How? Why?”
“She was murdered in cold blood. Assassinated, in effect.”
He put a hand to his mouth, which had opened as though to say more. Nothing came.
“I’m sorry to tell you like this.”
“I hadn’t expected that.” He shook his head. “Is that why you’re here?”
“It is.”
“I wish I could tell you more.”
The DI reached out to put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve given us quite a bit. Could we trouble you for the guest list, from the time Kate was here? Would you be able to find it for us?”
He thought for a moment. “Of course. It’ll take me about half an hour, but I run a pretty tight ship, as regards records. It’ll be here.”
The DI rewarded him with a broad smile.
Four names jumped out at them:
Kate Nilsson
Stephen Whyte
Wayne Hedges
Billy Rawlins.
It suggested that Stephen Whyte, Wayne Hedges and Billy Rawlins were possible survivors of abuse at Sunnymede children’s home. The older photographs which Kate had had in her possession pointed to Scotty McEwan, Helen Reynolds and Tom Rendon as also being survivors of abuse at that home. Albeit their abuse had happened a few years earlier.
“Was that what Kate was onto?” Yvonne felt sure this information was key. “Billy Rawlins…” She pursed her lips, shaking her head, as Dewi began the drive back. “Billy Rawlins is the surprise. His abuse must have occurred not long before the home was closed for good. He’s not old enough for anything else. Boy, there’s so much to get my head around.”
Yvonne felt deep concern for Billy. “We’ve got to find him,” she said, as they arrived back. “He told me he warned Kate off looking into the Dale deaths. He knows something.”
A quick phone call to Dale confirmed that Billy Rawlins had not yet returned. Broderick Forster explained to Yvonne that he wasn’t overly concerned, yet. This was not the first time Billy had gone AWOL.
“He suffers panic attacks. He’s received counselling.” Forster’s tone was clipped and to the point. “He’s risking medical discharge.”
Yvonne identified with the panic attacks. “How many times has he done this?” she asked.
“This is the third time in three years.”
The DI sighed. “Can you let us know if he returns?”
“Yes. Of course.” Forster’s line clicked and went dead.
Yvonne tasked Dai Clayton and Callum Jones with looking through online news archives for information about Sunnymede and the alleged abuse. She was surprised at the extent of the allegations. The majority had either been unsuccessfully prosecuted or not prosecuted at all. The accused had included politicians, celebrities, police officers, and other pillars of the community. The list was staggering. Strings of people going to and from the home.
She sat back in her chair, pensive. Dewi plopped down two fresh coffees on the desk. “Do you think this is the key?” he asked, as he pulled up another chair.
“Honestly? I don’t know, Dewi. But, I think it could be.” She blew on the top of her coffee before taking a grateful sip. “Stephen Whyte told me to look at the battalion sergeants and then keep going up. But how high? Commanders? MOD? Politicians?”
“But if he knew they were all victims of abuse, as he had been, why didn’t he tell you that? Why be so cryptic about it?”
“I think we got our answer to that when he was killed, Dewi. I suspect, as well, that he was trying to protect others.”
“Such as Billy Rawlins?”
“I think so. And Wayne Hedges…”
“Who knew you were going to meet Corporal Whyte?” Dewi took several swift gulps of his coffee, as though his mouth was made of asbestos. The DI was still blowing on hers. “No one. I don’t think…no, wait. Wayne Hedges. Wayne kn
ew.”
“Might he have passed that on to someone?”
Yvonne pursed her lips. “Possible, I guess.” She thought back to when she’d first met Wayne. He’d seemed nervous and scared. “But if he did, I think he would have done so inadvertently. I say we go back to Lars Nilsson. If Kate knew all about the abuse connection and the soldiers who died, then you can bet her journalist father knew, too.”
“Perhaps that’s the part of the story he wanted most of all.” Dewi finished his drink.
“Perhaps it’s part of the reason Hayley Nilsson is so nervous. Powerful people might do anything to avoid being exposed.”
“Looks like T.H.Davis won’t be much help.” Dewi pointed to the paragraph in the summary which outlined Davis’ dementia. “He joined the Lords, only to be retired a couple of years later.”
“We could talk to the guy who ran the place. He’s in HMP Altcourse. Ask one of the DCs to arrange something.”
“Will do, ma’am.”
Billy Rawlins threw his bedroll down onto the floor of his makeshift shelter. He’d spent the last hour or two arranging branches and leaves, the way he’d been taught. He checked his watch. Four-thirty and getting too dark to work without a torch.
He lit his hexamine stove. It gave off just enough heat to have a hot drink and some food. He didn’t want to risk a full fire.
He put his pan of water on the stove and went back inside his shelter, to check his map by torchlight.
He wasn’t even sure what he was running from. Just knew it was evil. He could feel its thick, sinuous tendrils reaching out for him. The darkness was sweeping everything before it. He’d felt it first when he was a boy. Then, he had felt that if he got out of bed, he would fall off the earth. Only his sheets kept him safe. And then again, in Afghanistan. It waited for him outside the walls of Camp Bastion. And now, somewhere out there, it lurked again. He wasn’t going to wait for it to get to him.
16
Lars opens up
Yvonne and Dewi waited patiently outside Lars and Hayley Nilsson’s home. They’d heard movement. Footsteps on the stairs. Someone was coming.
Lars Nilsson opened the door, expectancy lining his tired face.
“I’m sorry, did we wake you?” Yvonne meant it. She did feel sorry. It was clear the man hadn’t slept much.
He rubbed his forehead. “I was dozing. We had a bad night.” He glanced at Dewi, before shifting his gaze back to the DI. “Has there been a development? Have you found my daughter’s killer?”
Yvonne shook her head. “I’m sorry, not yet.”
His face fell, his bloodshot eyes half-closed. “Then why-”
“We wanted to ask about your daughter’s investigation into the deaths at the barracks. May we come in? Or should we come back at a better time?”
Lars stepped back into his hallway, running a hand through his hair before motioning them inside. “Come into the kitchen. We’ll need to keep our voices down. My wife has only just gotten off to sleep, too. She needs her rest.”
“I understand.” Yvonne nodded.
Lars arranged seats next to the Aga. The DI was glad of its warmth. She saw Dewi reach his hands behind his chair to touch it. Giving them a rub, after he’d held them there a few seconds.
“So, how can I help?” Lars rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, his voice low and cracked.
“You know your daughter was looking into the deaths at the Dale barracks.”
“Yes.”
“Did she mention that many of the victims were also victims of abuse?”
Lars paused, mouth partially open. She could see the knowledge in his sunken eyes.
“Can I ask when you knew?”
He let out a large puff of air. “From the beginning. Pretty much from the beginning of her investigation. Some of her friends had been victims. She went to a survivors get-together.”
“But she wasn’t a survivor of abuse?”
“No. She’d gone along to support Wayne and Stephen, among others. That was just after she found out. I think she found out accidentally, by overhearing an argument between Wayne and Stephen.”
Yvonne pursed her lips before whispering, “Why didn’t you tell us this before? You want your daughter’s murder solved?”
Lars bowed his head, gazing at the tiles on the kitchen floor. “I do.”
“Then why?”
“Guilt.” He let out a heavy sigh. A tear dropped off the end of his nose.
“Guilt? I don’t understand.” The DI kept her voice soft.
“The sexual abuse scandal at Sunnymede had been on my radar for years. When I found out that some of the survivors had been found dead at Dale, I was excited at the possibility of investigating both stories at once.”
“And you had someone on the inside.”
“I did.” Lars let out a painful sob which wracked his body. “It was my idea. I asked Kate if she would help. I put my own daughter into the dragon’s mouth. I have to live with that. It’s something I will always carry. I don’t know if I will ever sleep again. I don’t deserve to.”
“Lars, I’m sure Kate would not have taken on the investigation, unless she, too, had wanted the answers.” She resisted the urge to put a hand on his shoulder. “Some of her friends were victims. She would have wanted to do it for them.”
He looked up at her. She sensed doubt. He was stifling the urge to say something.
“You know who the killer is?”
He shook his head.
“But you think Kate knew?”
“I strongly believe she knew.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“She was different when she came home this time. She seemed dejected. I went up to her room, a couple of days before she died. She was slamming things around, muttering about being let down. She was angry with someone.”
“A friend?”
“That’s the impression I got.”
“So, let me get this straight. You think one of Kate’s friends may have been involved in the deaths at Dale?”
“It’s a suspicion, yes. I think the deaths on the base are linked to the abuse that went on at Sunnymede. I think that before she died, my daughter figured out who was responsible. Whoever that person was had Kate killed, or killed her themselves.”
“And that is why your wife was afraid of you talking to me.”
Lars nodded. “We may none-of-us be safe.”
Yvonne turned to Dewi as they left the house. “Wayne and Billy are in danger. We’ve got to locate both of them. I think one of them is the killer.”
“Ma’am?” Dewi raised his eyebrows.
“Kate had her suspicions, but didn’t tell anyone. Not even her father. Why not? I told Wayne Hedges I wanted to meet Stephen Whyte.”
“We need to find Billy.” Dewi agreed.
17
The chase
Yvonne could feel the sweat developing on her brow, as she fought to find her phone in her handbag. Instinct told her she couldn’t afford to miss this call.
“Hello? Inspector?” It was Billy Rawlins.
“Billy? Yes, this is Inspector Giles. Billy, where are you?”
“There’re after me. They’re coming, I haven’t got long.”
“Who’s after you, Billy? Billy?”
There were huffing and scraping sounds in the background. She heard the creak of a door. There was brief birdsong then silence, save for the occasional muffled car. This was followed by beeping. The line went dead.
“Was that Billy Rawlins?” Dewi took the phone from the shocked DI, and wrote down the number from the last received call.
“It was.” Yvonne sparked into action. “He’s in danger and that sounded like a phone box.”
“Should be easy for the lads to trace.” Dewi was already dialling through to Newtown station, using his own mobile. He barked instruction to Callum Jones and Dai Clayton.
Then it was a case of waiting. They leaned on the car, in the middle of LLydiart, every muscle in th
eir bodies taut. They wanted to go go go. But without knowing where to, they were left listening to the birds and drumming their fingers.
“The call came from a BT box on the edge of Plas Power Woods, near Bersham.” The unusually high pitch of Callum’s voice, betrayed his excitement, as he gave Dewi the GPS coordinates.
“That’s near Wrexham.” Dewi frowned. “We’re gonna need backup. Get on to North Wales Police. Tell them what’s going on. We’ve got an individual on the run in the area, who believes he’s in danger. The assailant or assailants may be armed and will be dangerous.”
“Have you spoken to the DCI?” Callum hesitated.
“No time. I’m heading up there with the DI. Ask Dai Clayton to get on to Dale Barracks and find out if Wayne Hedges is on the base. Get back to us as soon as you know one way or the other.’
“Will do.”
“Oh, and Callum?”
“Yep?”
“When you call back, ring Yvonne’s phone. I’m driving.”
“Will do.”
“Let’s go.” Yvonne was breathless as she threw open the passenger door and fumbled with the seat belt.
“We’re off to Bersham, ma’am.”
“Put your foot down. Use your lights and sirens if you have to.”
They were nearly twenty minutes into the journey, when Yvonne got a call from Callum. “What have you got?” she asked, heart pounding.
“Forster’s had his men looking all over. Wayne Hedges is not on the base and no one knows where he is. He missed roll call this morning. He hasn’t been seen since lunchtime, yesterday.”
“Thanks, Callum. Can you pass this on to North Wales. Let them know they are dealing with an experienced soldier who may be armed. Ask them to go careful, we don’t know for sure that he’s armed or what we are facing. We’re going to get there as soon as we can. I’ve got to find Billy. He knows me, and I think he trusts me.”
“Okay. Ma’am?”
“Yes, Callum?”
“Take it steady. Don’t do anything daft.”
“Thanks, Callum.”
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