by Carol Wyer
‘Yes.’
‘Copy.’
‘The techies have emailed us photographs taken from a Victorian enthusiast website. If you study them, you’ll note the two main entrances, although there are side or delivery doors. Check them all for access. The interior pictures show the staircases to be in a poor state and some of the flooring has broken through. I want to remind you to proceed with caution.
‘Logic dictates Rob is more likely to be camping out on the bottom floor; however, logic doesn’t always apply, and given his military training, he might have secreted himself elsewhere in the building. Finally, be mindful there could be others sleeping in there. Any questions?’
There were none. The structure was huge, far bigger than Lucy had remembered, and bathed in warm street lighting, the red bricks glowed as if heated on a furnace. At least they’d be able to see their way around the place and not stumble on broken pieces of concrete or rubble. She allowed everyone a minute to study the photographs, and when she received confirmation they had and were ready, she gave the order to move.
The five officers in stab vests slid silently from cars, sped towards the building and divided into three teams. Lucy went alone, ahead of Ian and Andy, firearm lifted in readiness. She reached the building and, with her back pressed against the wall, waited for the others. Ian and Andy peeled off to the right, stopping to check delivery doors for access as they made their way around the building to the rear.
Lucy took off at pace, her feet barely brushing the weeds and shrubby growth, to the end of the building in order to reach the front from the opposite side. Murray and Celeste were on her tail, pausing only to throw furtive looks through broken windows and gaps, in the hope of spying Rob.
Lucy turned the corner, spotted the railway track ahead and slowed. Andy’s voice was loud in her earpiece. ‘Negative access to side. Heading for front, guv.’
Murray and Celeste had caught up with her. Murray shook his head to indicate they’d found no other entry points.
‘Heading to front right entrance,’ Lucy whispered.
She powered forwards and spotted Ian and Andy advancing from the opposite end. She copied their movements and found herself in front of a boarded door. A gap under the lower board afforded entry.
She crouched in readiness. ‘In position.’
‘Negative here,’ replied Andy. They’d not found a way in. She waited until they’d joined the trio standing against the wall. She gave them a nod and entered first.
Wriggling under the door, she found herself in the half-gloom of a vast space. The concrete floor was dusty but covered in footprints. Steel pillars rose upwards to the floor above, and a wall of steel in the centre of the space made spotting anyone the other side of it impossible. She blinked until her night vision kicked in and she could appreciate the enormity of the interior. Figures emerged before her eyes. Murray and Celeste swept along the far side, pausing to kick at abandoned clothing, discarded food packets and filthy blankets. Andy and Ian headed for the metal wall in the centre, torch lights flickering against the walls as they hunted through similar piles of junk. Lucy followed the path of the wall, her own torch beam guided towards dark corners and piles of empty cardboard boxes behind which stood an old broken table and three mismatched chairs. It took several minutes to cover the entire room and move to the next floor.
The left-hand staircase was in too bad a condition to climb, with missing steps and broken wooden pieces hanging from it. Lucy instructed them to take the other staircase and she remained in position, watching out for any sudden movement, or for Rob to appear. She kept her back to the wall, eyes peeled. She couldn’t hear her officers padding quietly above her but a sprinkling of dust fell from the ceiling, scattering itself over her shoulders. She hoped nobody would fall through rotten floorboards. She’d warned them to be careful. A noise. She froze, braced herself then shone her torch towards the blankets Murray had already searched. There was a slight movement. It couldn’t be possible that Rob was so well hidden, Murray had missed him, could it? The blanket twitched again and her wrist tensed. She was about to shout a warning when a hairy snout pushed through the folds and a rat emerged, its lengthy, thick, black tail trailing over the surface of the blanket before it scurried towards nearby packaging and disappeared again. A shudder of revulsion travelled the length of her body. There was no way she’d ever sleep in this warehouse.
She cocked her ear but apart from a barely audible tread, all was quiet above her and she was beginning to lose heart. They’d been inside at least ten minutes and there was no sign of Rob. Maybe he’d never been here and Kirk had given them false information.
Quick, light footsteps followed by a hissed ‘Guv’ caught her attention. Ian was beckoning her. She darted across and shadowed him to the top floor. The air was thick with recently disturbed dust that caught in the back of her throat. She swallowed the urge to cough and, picking her way around chute holes and steel girders, she saw why she’d been summoned. Murray pointed out the spot where two blankets had been perfectly folded and left one on top of the other. Next to them, and rolled into balls, were three pairs of socks and two grubby grey vests, also perfectly folded, and sitting on top of the neat ensemble was a creased photograph of a couple. Lucy bent to examine it.
‘Felicity.’ The picture must have been taken ten years ago but there was no mistaking either the woman who she’d recently spoken to or the man with sandy hair and piercing blue eyes. This was Rob’s sleeping spot.
‘And there’s this,’ said Ian, sweeping his torch over a Kate Spade quilted black leather shoulder bag and three mobile phones, in a line.
Lucy slipped on gloves, undid the bag and extracted first a mobile and then a purse, which she opened and counted five twenty-pound notes and a ten-pound note. The credit cards were in Rachel’s name, as was the driving licence.
Murray was examining the first of the three phones, a cheap Nokia. When switched on, it revealed a photo of Amelia and Tommy, both smiling. Ian turned on the iPhone. It belonged to Eugene. The last phone had no photos or anything to suggest who it belonged to.
‘Could be Rob’s phone,’ said Andy.
Lucy stared at the blank home screen. ‘Then why hasn’t he taken it with him?’
Andy offered a shrug. ‘He didn’t intend going far?’
‘Well, he’s certainly not here,’ said Murray.
Lucy replaced the bag on the floor where she’d found it and advised her officers to do likewise. ‘He isn’t going to abandon his possessions. Chances are he’s not far away and will return. We’ll wait for him outside in case he hears us and makes a run for it.’
They retreated to the bottom floor and made for the door. Lucy’s mind was on Rob, the ex-military man whose possessions had been laid out as if he were still a soldier laying out his kit in his barracks. It was strange he’d kept trophies yet hadn’t spent the money in Rachel’s purse. More curious still was the photograph of Felicity. It clearly meant a lot to him or he wouldn’t have hung onto it all these years. Certainly, not many people would climb the broken staircase to see what lay on the top floor, but surely the photo would be safer if it were on his person. Another thought hit like a slap to her cheek. Natalie! Natalie had gone in search of Bev. What if Rob had gone to the wasteland? The urge to contact Natalie surpassed all other emotions and she squeezed through the gap under the boarded door, intending to contact her superior, but came to a sudden stop. A figure was shuffling alongside the railway lines, kicking at loose stones. She whispered for the others to remain where they were and, remaining immobile, observed the man as he approached, head lowered, hands in his pockets. It was Rob.
‘Rob.’ She didn’t need to shout his name. His head snapped up and he raised his hands in surrender.
‘Don’t move!’ shouted Lucy.
‘I won’t. I’m done with running and hiding.’
Andy, who’d clambered out behind her, scrambled to his feet to dart forwards until Rob shouted, ‘Stay there! Let me
speak first. I’ll tell you what you want to hear.’
Lucy signalled at Andy to remain where he was. ‘We can’t stand here shouting at you.’
‘You can come a little closer and I’ll tell you everything I know.’
‘My men are coming out.’
‘Tell them to stay put.’
‘I can’t do that.’
‘Then you’ll never learn the truth.’
‘We’ll find out. You’ll tell us.’
‘I won’t crack under interrogation. I swear, if any of your officers come out of the warehouse, these will be the last words you’ll hear from me.’ He pointed at Andy. ‘Make sure he stays exactly where he is and I’ll talk to you, but only you.’
Lucy gave a low growl and took a pace forwards but he spoke again with urgency. ‘I confess to murdering Eugene and Rachel Hardy and her boyfriend. I know who killed Amelia and Katie. I’m sure you want to know who’s responsible, and you want other answers too – why I wrote the word guilty on the foreheads of my victims, for one.’
‘You can tell us at the station,’ said Lucy, sharply, making to move again.
He shook his head as if it weighed too much to move. ‘You don’t understand. If you take me in now, I won’t tell you a thing. You can do this my way or not at all.’
Lucy paused, confused by his demands. Why would he confess out here but not if they took him to the station?
‘You want to know the truth, don’t you, DI Carmichael? You want to be able to tell your superiors why I murdered those people and who killed the girls. Come closer so you can hear. Six paces. No more. The others must stay where they are. I’m not running anywhere.’
Lucy spoke to her team. ‘Stay back, everyone. Andy, I’m counting on you to stay alert and act if you think you need to.’ She took six measured paces forwards and waited for his response.
He rubbed behind his neck, head flopped to one side. ‘I’m tired, DI Carmichael. Weary of it all. It’s time I unburdened myself.’
‘If you didn’t kill Amelia or Katie, who did?’
He gave a heavy, soul-emptying wheeze. ‘Tommy.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I found out the truth after Katie died. She was only a teenager, a runaway, stuck in a hellish place with that bastard Tommy. I tried to convince her to go back home but she chose a different way out.’
‘What do you mean…?’
It’s pouring with rain and Rob is hunting through the bin for any leftover food. Usually one of the lunchtime workers who visit the park leaves behind a half-eaten sandwich or something but it seems nobody has eaten in the park today. Hardly surprising given the abysmal weather. He gives up sifting through the empty cans, dog poo bags and cigarette packets, and shuffles to the next bin, accompanied by stomach rumbles. He hasn’t eaten for two days but it is a punishment he deserves. He deserves to suffer. He’s a nobody, a wimp, a failure, and he is doomed to scavenge and live the hard life he has chosen forever more. Every night, he sees Lorna’s face in his nightmares. He saved her from Whitey but nobody could save her or the others in the truck from the explosion as it ran out of control into a petrol tanker. He’d failed to save her and he’d failed to regain the love of the one person who’d meant the world to him – Felicity, who’d gone on to marry Whitey. There were people in this life who were weak. He was one of them. He’d not fought hard enough for what he’d believed in. He’d tried to warn her.
He spies Tommy drunkenly headed her way. If Tommy attacks her, he’ll intervene. The man’s dangerous when he’s high, and judging by the way he’s reeling about, that’s the case. The rumours on the street are he killed Amelia, and Rob already wishes he’d intervened. He’d overheard their argument and done nothing about it. What a failure. Again. Rob Yeomans the wimp. He despises his own cowardice. This can’t continue. He has to take action. He knows things. Terrible things he can do something about, if only he stops being such a pathetic loser.
He trains his eyes on Tommy, who halts in front of Katie. He crouches in front of her only to jump to his feet and pace around in small circles, hands on his head, before bending over and grabbing her by the shoulders. Her head shakes loosely like a rag doll’s.
‘Wake up, you stupid bitch!’ he yells.
Even from where Rob stands, he can see Katie won’t ever wake. Rain falls steadily on them all. Wet strands of Katie’s hair are stuck to her face and Tommy lifts an object, stares at it. ‘This was my gear. Mine! You had no right to steal it. Now look what’s happened, you stupid, stupid bitch. Why?’
Rob tries to make out what he’s waving in front of the dead girl’s face and realises it is a syringe. Tommy continues to rant like a madman, and from what Rob can gather, she’s overdosed on Tommy’s drugs.
Tommy stands again, kicks at Katie’s foot and, shoving the syringe and a small plastic bag in his pocket, races away. Rain falls steadily on Rob’s head. Tommy is responsible for her death. He may not have given her the drugs but it is thanks to him she is dead. Rob has to make this all right and there’s only one way. He’ll take his cue from Whitey, who successfully framed him. He’ll make sure the police hunt for the right person.
He checks nobody is around the park and approaches Katie. He can’t look at her face, and even though she is already dead, he despises himself for doing this. ‘I’m sorry. It’s the only way.’ He places his strong fingers around her neck and squeezes.
Rob spread his arms wide. ‘I wanted you to punish him but he went into hiding.’
‘Did you kill him?’
‘Yes. He tried to hide among the homeless people but I found him under Samford Bridge. He didn’t know who I was, thought I was some nobody. I told him I knew where I could get him some gear and he followed me like an eager puppy. He died too quickly. He should have suffered more, like Katie did. I tossed him into the canal.’
‘What about the others?’
‘As I said, I killed them all – Eugene and Rachel Hardy and her boyfriend, Dominic. You know how. I strangled them.’
‘Why?’
Rob wandered a few feet further away from her, across to the railway lines, and stared into space. ‘They were guilty.’
‘Of what?’ Lucy asked.
He didn’t respond, seemingly miles away.
‘Rob?’
‘I’m sick of being me. I’ve disappointed too many people.’
‘Who have you disappointed?’
‘Lorna, Felicity.’
‘Lorna. The woman you raped.’
He gave a sad shake of the head. ‘You think that too. I didn’t rape her. Whitey did. I tried to stop him, but in protecting her, I became the next victim. Did you know, DI Carmichael, there are thousands of people who are controlled by others who are mentally stronger, craftier, nastier and more manipulative? Those people don’t play fair, and one way or another, they imprison their victims. Tommy was one such person. Neither Katie nor Amelia could leave him even though he used and abused them. Victims of physical and mental abuse are strangled by their own inability to break free. They believe, for some bizarre reason, they actually deserve the hatred, the beatings and the sexual degradation. They lose their self-worth to the point they firmly believe they are worthless and they deserve to suffer.’ He pressed his lips together tightly and looked Lucy in the eye. ‘I didn’t rape anyone. I’ve never even had sex with a woman. After saving Lorna from Whitey, I was physically and shamefully abused by my fellow comrades-in-arms and unable to fight against them. I couldn’t even tell anyone, not the doctors or my father, and certainly not Felicity. I was far too ashamed.’ He half-turned, his gaze on some point further along the railway line.
‘This time I wanted to make proper amends, and I believe I have. I’ve made my peace.’
‘You’re talking in riddles. I’m going to have to caution you. We can talk about this properly at Holborn House.’ Lucy had barely registered the high-pitched whistle before she realised with sudden clarity what was about to take place. She lurched forwards, yel
ling, ‘No!’ but Rob gave a quiet smile, stepped away from her and launched himself onto the railway lines. She powered on but was immediately thrown back by the sudden roar of the high-speed train that had sent a warning of its approach as it passed through Samford station. When she opened her eyes again, Rob had disappeared.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Rob
This is the end of the road. After this, he’s finished. The relief is in his mind’s eye, waiting to be hooked like a yellow, plastic hook-a-duck. A vision of dazzling fairground lights, carefree carousel music and the whir of rides and screams of joy; the plastic duck dangling at the end of his hooked rod and his mother applauding his win – the top prize, a large furry toy. As usual, the memory of his mother brings a lump to his throat. All recollections of her do. They are happy memories, tainted by the fact she was stolen from him and his father far too soon. His mother was the gentlest soul on the planet, raised him to respect and care for others; a nursery school teacher with golden hair who’d loved him with her entire being.
Thoughts drift to Felicity, not an exact copy of his mother, but certainly full of goodness and love. Felicity, who he’d won and subsequently lost. The shame of what happened to him in the barracks still twists in his belly like a restless serpent. Gradually over the years it has eaten away at him, leaving him hollow inside. Now there’s nothing left, and after his meeting with the journalist, he’ll finally be able to let go, rejoin his mother in some faraway place. He doesn’t believe in an almighty, a heavenly presence presiding over man and the universe. Man is made of molecules of energy which dissipate when life is extinguished, and somewhere out there, one of his energy particles will find his mother. He’s tired of it all. He has roamed and been lost for too long. The lack of purpose almost did him in, but in recent weeks he’s found a reason to continue, first trying to convince young people on the streets to return home, and now to right wrongs.
He ensures all the objects he took from his victims are in place. Maybe another homeless person will discover them and make use of them and the money in Rachel’s purse. It was never his intention to hold onto any of them. If Bev does her job properly, the police will find everything here, including a necklace he unclasped from Katie’s neck. Her parents ought to have it.