Gates began to hatch a plan.
NICK MET AMANDA AT the Pen y Pass car park. He thought she looked cute in her sky-blue woollen hat and gloves. Miners’ Track was a longer route than the alternative Pyg Track, but Nick wanted to retrace Harvey Pearson’s steps. He wanted to take a more focussed look at the site of his murder again, especially now that the search was being scaled down.
Amanda had the day off and said there was something she wanted to talk to Nick about. Nick had joked that walking to the site of a murder wasn’t exactly romantic, but the scenery was spectacular. He was also wondering what she wanted to talk about and feared that she was having second thoughts about their relationship. He couldn’t blame her. He had the same fears and doubts. The uncertainty wasn’t about Amanda. Everything about her felt right. It was the emotional vulnerability that could destabilise their sobriety.
They had been walking for the first twenty minutes, chatting casually, when Amanda reached for Nick’s gloved hand. He felt the same electricity spark through his fingers as he had felt when they held hands in the car park outside the AA meeting. He couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that. His love life had been a dark, sordid and drunken blur in recent years, devoid of warmth, love or romance.
They reached Llyn Teyrn, a small lake that sparkled in the winter sun. The icy wind had picked up and numbed Nick’s face. It wasn’t long before they came to the much larger Llyn Llydaw. A narrow path crossed the lake and then ran right along its northern edge.
Nick stopped for a moment to look out over the spectacular view and pulled Amanda close. He had to raise his voice a little because of the noise of the wind. ‘Have you been up Snowdon before?’
‘No, never,’ Amanda replied, tucking stray wisps of hair into her hat.
‘A Snowdon virgin, eh?’ Nick said with a grin, and Amanda gave him a playful shove. ‘You know the story of this lake?’
Amanda frowned. ‘No. I was never good at history.’
‘You’ve heard of Excalibur, King Arthur’s sword?’
Amanda smiled. ‘Yes. I’m not a moron.’
Nick grinned. ‘We’ll see about that.’ He then gestured. ‘Sir Bedivere took Excalibur after King Arthur’s death and threw it into this lake. And that is when the hand of the Lady of the Lake caught it and disappeared under the water.’
Amanda smiled at him. ‘I didn’t know that. Why didn’t I know that?’
‘Ignorance? Stupidity?’ Nick shrugged.
She hit him on the arm as they turned to carry on walking. The winter sun was warming them, but they had to squint from its low glare.
Nick continued, ‘This was the lake Arthur sailed across to reach the magical isle of Avalon. And that’s where he died and was buried.’
‘A romantic walk and a guided tour. I’m being spoilt,’ Amanda said with a slightly sardonic edge.
They continued on, passing the ruins of the old Britannia Mine crushing mill.
After another ten minutes, Nick knew that he would have to broach what Amanda wanted to talk to him about. It was making him feel anxious and if she was going to suggest that they no longer see each other, he wanted to have that conversation sooner rather than later.
Nick looked over at Amanda and could see she was out of the breath. He gestured to a large rock to one side. ‘Five-minute rest?’
‘Yeah, good idea,’ Amanda said, breathing hard.
‘See those fags have helped your lung capacity,’ Nick said sarcastically.
Amanda smiled and gave him the finger. ‘Do one.’
‘Probably going to struggle to light one up here.’
‘No shit, Sherlock.’ Amanda looked away for a moment, then turned back and took his hand. ‘There’s something I wanted to tell you, that you need to know.’
Nick started to feel anxious. ‘Okay.’
Amanda’s face changed and she looked troubled. She pursed her lips and for a moment she looked like she might cry. ‘I’m ... sorry ...’
Nick put his arm around her. ‘Hey, don’t worry. Whatever it is, just tell me. When you’re sober, everything gets a bit raw because you don’t have anything to numb it anymore.’ He pulled her closer and realised that whatever she was going to say, he really cared for her.
‘I was raped, Nick.’ She bit her lip, a tear ran down her face and she took a deep breath. ‘I ... was raped last year ...’
Nick looked at her and held her closer. ‘I’m so sorry.’
For a moment, they just held each other closely as the wind swirled around them and the sun lit their faces.
‘It was a work night out. In town. I was hammered ... I was always fucking hammered.’ Amanda stopped for a moment as more tears came.
‘It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me what happened.’
‘No. No ... I want to,’ Amanda said, nodding her head. ‘This guy was chatting to me. You know, buying me drinks. We were dancing. I went into a blackout and the next thing, we were in my flat. He was on top of me and he was really strong. And he had this look on his face like he hated me. It was terrifying. And he just pinned me down on the floor and raped me. I was struggling and saying no but I just couldn’t ...’
‘I’m sorry. That’s just ... horrendous.’
Amanda nodded and wiped the tears from her face.
Nick nodded. ‘Did you report it?’
‘Yeah. I went to the sexual assault referral centre. You know, what I do as a job, I know all about it, don’t I?’
‘Any idea who did it?’
Amanda shook her head. ‘No. I’ve been through CCTV with the police. Talked to my friends. Nothing. No traceable DNA. And the worst thing is ... if I can close my eyes, I can still see his face. And that’s when my drinking took off twenty-four seven.’
‘Of course.’ Nick looked at her. ‘You’re doing well, you know that?’
‘Thanks. I just wanted you to know. I felt I was hiding it from you and ... I really like you.’ Amanda buried her face into his chest.
Nick put his hand comfortingly on her cold face and pulled her closer.
CHAPTER 16
By the time Ruth arrived at Llancastell Magistrates’ Court, they had brought Gates up from the holding cells. He was freshly shaved, dressed in smart clothes and handcuffed to a prison officer. Looking around the courtroom, Gates had an expression of bemusement. Ruth found this incredibly annoying. She knew the devastation that he had caused the families of those he had murdered, many of whom still thought their loved ones were missing. And she knew all about the pain of that. Yet Gates’s demeanour was obviously to show everyone that he didn’t care and wasn’t remotely fazed by what he had done. He was undeniably a psychopath, so she knew that was true. She also knew that he would get off on causing anger and misery at every stage of the investigation. His casual indifference and lack of remorse were all designed for this purpose.
The courtroom was newly built with light-coloured wooden-panelled walls, a blue carpet and blue padded chairs at a row of tables. It looked like a smart conference room rather than a court. Especially when she compared it to the dusty, old courtrooms of London.
Earlier that morning, Ruth had put in a phone call to Interpol to chase up information about Jurgen Kessler. How had he managed to avoid any detection in over seven months? Ruth wasn’t naïve. She knew Sarah’s case wasn’t the top priority. However, Ruth was one of them, a fellow officer of the law, and that usually meant things got done more thoroughly and faster, even if that wasn’t strictly ethical. She had to console herself that it would be several days before anyone got back to her.
As Ruth sat down in the public gallery, Gates spun around and immediately caught her eye, nodding in recognition with a smirk. Ruth couldn’t help but feel unnerved by the fact that Gates seemed to feel that there was some kind of connection between them. It was as if he had known instinctively that she had just arrived at that precise moment. It made her physically shudder.
Even though this was just a preliminary hearing to establis
h Gates’s name, address and the not-guilty plea he would be putting in, Ruth felt that as SIO she needed to be present.
Given the magnitude of the crimes that Gates had been charged with, the magistrate would categorise this is an indictable-only case that needed to go to trial at a crown court up at Mold. And Gates would be held on remand for many months as she, and the rest of Llancastell CID, gathered evidence and worked with the Crown Prosecution Service to mount a case against him.
The court clerk looked over at Gates. ‘Could the defendant please stand?’
The prison officer and Gates stood.
‘Could you please confirm for the court that you are Andrew Raymond Gates and that you live at Gabriel House, Hall Way, Llantysilio?’
Gates nodded. ‘Yes.’
The magistrate looked over at Gates and frowned. ‘Mr Gates, is it correct that you have declined legal counsel today?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Gates nodded. ‘I intend to act as my own legal counsel so I don’t require one.’
Ruth didn’t know what the hell Gates was doing, but surely he wasn’t going to try to defend himself in a criminal trial?
‘In that case, Mr Gates, you have been charged with the murder of Stefan Olsen, along with the murders of other victims whose identities are yet to be confirmed. Can you enter your plea for the court today?’
Gates glanced up at Ruth. ‘Guilty, sir.’
Ruth took a moment to process his change of plea. What the hell was he doing? Throughout their interviews, he had maintained his innocence. Ruth had assumed that he would enter a not-guilty plea and they would go to trial. It was a complete U-turn.
Gates cleared his throat for a second. ‘For the record, I would like to establish that I am also guilty of the murder of Harvey Pearson on Mount Snowdon last week. The police haven’t asked me about the murder, but I would like his family to know that it was me. I hope that will help give them a little peace and also save the North Wales Police a lengthy investigation.’
NICK LOOKED AROUND at the cold, grey crevices and the uneven landscape that loomed all around them. He and Amanda had said little since her revelation, but he felt connected to her as they walked. The carved rocks and peaks were now dusted with snow that shimmered in the winter sunlight. Up to the right, a flock of white-fronted geese, who had migrated over from Greenland, flew in a circle. Their call was an unsettling, rhythmic screech like that of a gull.
Nick and Amanda arrived at the steep edge of the murder scene. As Nick looked down the ravine, he could see the blue-and-white police tape flapping noisily in the wind. It marked off the area where Harv’s body had been found. The nearby ridge was decorated with various floral tributes, many of which had been scattered.
‘How well did you know him?’ Amanda asked after a minute, her voice raised a little against the noise of the gale.
‘Pretty well. Went to school together. Spent a lot of time going out drinking in our twenties. We sort of lost contact recently,’ Nick explained.
Amanda nodded as she gazed down at the large rock behind which the body had been found.
Nick’s phone vibrated against his leg. It was Ruth. ‘Boss?’ He tried to move out of the direct blast of the wind so he could hear what she was saying.
‘Gates has pleaded guilty at the magistrates’ court.’ Ruth said.
‘What?’ Nick knew that CID were all prepared for a not-guilty plea and a trial. A guilty plea would make life a lot easier and would mean less time negotiating with the CPS. But what the hell was Gates doing? ‘You did say guilty plea, boss?’ Nick clarified. Maybe the wind had affected his hearing.
‘Yes. He has also admitted to the murder of Harvey Pearson,’ Ruth said.
‘What?’ Nick was taken aback. It didn’t make any sense. He quickly ran this development through his head and then said, ‘The MO’s completely different, for starters, boss?’
‘Both asphyxiation. But yes, completely different to Stefan Olsen and the body we found in Gates’s car. The PMs show they were strangled with rope. In fact, it would be hard to find any similarities.’
‘Do you believe him?’ Nick asked.
‘No. I think he’s dicking us about. He just wants as much publicity as possible now he’s decided to confess,’ Ruth explained. ‘That’s psychopaths for you.’
‘I’m at the murder scene now. Then I’ll get back.’
‘See you later, Nick.’
Nick nodded and hung up the phone, still taking in the idea of Gates murdering Harv. The MO was different and there was no hint in Harv’s life that he was homosexual. It was bullshit. And it made Nick angry that Gates was manipulating the death of his friend for his own narcissistic ends.
‘Everything okay?’ Amanda asked.
‘Just work stuff,’ Nick replied.
As he looked at the path and then the ridge, something about the murder scene suddenly occurred to him. Something he hadn’t thought of before.
Turning back, Nick walked over to the footpath. It was at least fifteen feet from the edge of the ravine where Harv fell or, more likely, was pushed.
Amanda joined him and gave him a quizzical look. ‘Something up, Sherlock?’
‘Try to push me towards the edge of that ravine,’ Nick said to her.
‘What? Don’t be stupid, Nick.’
‘Seriously. You won’t be able to do it, but just try to push me that way as hard as you can.’
‘If you go over, I’m not pushing you in a wheelchair for the rest of your life, you do know that?’ Amanda said with a smile.
‘I’m not going anywhere,’ Nick said as he smiled at her. ‘Come on.’
Amanda shrugged and started to push Nick. He resisted and walked back two steps. She tried again, and he just moved out of her way. It was impossible. It was too far, there was too much room to manoeuvre and she wasn’t strong enough.
‘And I’m making a tit of myself because ...?’ Amanda asked wryly.
‘Okay. How many extra people would you need to push me over that edge? From here?’ Nick asked. He was starting to realise that it was almost impossible for Harv to have been attacked by one person.
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Humour me.’
‘Three. No, four to be on the safe side. You’re quite big,’ Amanda said with a bemused smile.
‘I’ll explain in a minute.’ Nick took out his phone and dialled Ruth.
‘Nick?’ Ruth said, answering the phone.
‘Boss. I’m at the point from which Harvey Pearson was pushed down the ravine. How tall is Gates?’
‘Five foot eight, I guess,’ Ruth answered.
‘Ten or eleven stone?’
‘Thereabouts. Why?’
‘Harvey Pearson was sixteen stone and six foot four. There is no way Gates pushed him off the footpath and down the ravine. And I think you’re right. There was definitely more than one killer up here. I think it would have taken three or four people to get him over the edge. And that explains how the body was moved after he was dead.’
‘Do we have any leads in that direction?’ Ruth asked.
‘Two walkers who saw Harvey and Jack Pearson on Snowdon that day also saw a group of four women climbing the mountain. They were dressed in pink.’
‘Maybe they were climbing Snowdon for charity?’ Ruth suggested.
Nick nodded. ‘That was my thought, boss. My other thought was that, given all the publicity, why hasn’t one of them contacted us to say they were on the mountain that day? Unless they have a good reason why they don’t want anyone to know they were here.’
IN THE STARK LIGHT of Interview Room One, Gates sat next to the duty solicitor rubbing his eyes. Ruth noticed a scar across his left eyelid that was normally well disguised by the frame and tint of his glasses. Gates replaced them again. Drake had taken the seat beside her. Given the growing magnitude of the case, Drake wanted to be in on Ruth’s interview of Gates to get a handle on him. Ruth knew that there would be increasing pressure from higher up the police
food chain and from the media for the case to be settled in an efficient and dignified manner with no mistakes.
Ruth had already reminded Gates that he continued to be under caution. The room was painted a cold pale-blue with simple chairs around a central wooden table.
Ruth shuffled her papers and looked over at Gates, who was now sitting back as if he was on holiday. ‘Why did you change your mind about pleading guilty, Andy?’
‘Look, Ruth, I have judged and punished myself more harshly than any court ever could. I just need to address what I have done morally,’ Gates said, but Ruth thought his words sounded rehearsed and hollow.
‘We are going to need the details and identities of every murder,’ Drake said.
Gates nodded but continued to talk directly to Ruth. ‘Of course. Ruth, I know that I can trust you implicitly. And I think that you trust me too. I think of myself as two characters and I want to explain both to you. So you understand. In one, I played an angel. I was a caring husband, friend and son who would have done anything to help those I loved. The other, an evil, primitive creature who revelled in causing and playing with death. There was no mid-ground for me. No balance.’
Ruth gave Drake a withering look that she was happy for Gates to see. She wasn’t interested in his pseudo-psychological philosophies on life. She wanted to move the interview on. For her, the most important thing was finding out how many murders Gates had committed and getting the identities for the families. ‘How many were there, Andy?’
‘Seven.’ He nodded. ‘Yes, there were seven, I’m afraid.’
Gates was again trying to make direct eye contact with Ruth. She wouldn’t be intimidated by him. She had interviewed her fair share of killers.
‘You have the names of all of them?’ Drake asked.
‘Yes, of course. They were my friends, my lovers, to me. I know that’s hard to understand.’ Gates continued to stare directly at Ruth.
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