No Middle Ground

by Jack Slater

  Pete grunted. ‘I wish.’ He couldn’t tell her the truth. ‘Family issues,’ he said instead.

  ‘Louise thrown you out, has she?’ Karen asked with a laugh.

  Pete returned the laugh as best he could. ‘Not yet. See you in the morning.’

  ‘Yup.’

  He ended the call and kept driving. He was beyond tired, but he had to keep going.

  An hour later, though, with several possibilities eliminated but endless more to go, his eyes were so sore and he was feeling so groggy that he was forced to stop or run off the road. He pulled over in a passing place on a narrow, tree-lined lane, set the hand-brake and switched off the engine. He’d take a few minutes to relax and regroup then keep going.

  *

  The next thing he knew, he was opening his eyes to the pre-dawn glow, birds twittering in the trees around him as the sky began to lighten.

  ‘Shit.’

  He checked the dashboard clock. It was three minutes to four.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered, sitting up and starting the engine. He needed to get home, grab a shower and change his clothes before getting back to the station to interview Jonas Hanson.

  But first he had to figure out where he was. He’d covered so many miles last night, he’d lost track. Still, if he just drove down the road he was on, he was bound to come to a village or a main road and get his bearings from there.

  He switched on the headlights and set off. In minutes, he was driving into the small village of Bickleigh. He headed through to the main road and turned south, towards the city. It was early enough that the roads were almost deserted so, without rushing, he was home in under twenty minutes.

  As he walked in, Louise’s voice came from the sitting room. ‘Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick.’

  He went through. She was sitting in her dressing gown in the near-darkness with a throw wrapped around her like a shawl, legs tucked up under her.

  ‘I’ve been out looking for Tommy. Not because you asked me to, but because it was the right thing to do and what I needed to do.’

  ‘You could have let me know.’

  ‘I had my phone.’

  She sighed. ‘I’m tired. You look like shit warmed over. Let’s just call it a draw. It’s too late to bother going to bed. We’d have to be up in another hour or two anyway but come here and sit awhile.’ She patted the settee beside her.

  Pete complied and reached for her hand. Glancing at the clock on the mantle, he said, ‘I’ve got an hour. Then I’ll need a shower and some coffee and to head into the station. I’ve got an interview to conduct that could make Malcolm Burton look like small-fry.’

  ‘Eh? What’s this?’

  ‘The case we’ve been working on. A friend of Ben’s brought it to us. The bloke had done a runner. The one I told you was caught last night up in Lincolnshire and transferred down here.’

  ‘So, what is he, another paedophile?’ she asked, taking the cue from his mention of Burton.

  ‘No. Rapist and murderer. Allegedly.’

  ‘I haven’t heard about anything like that.’

  ‘You wouldn’t have. He was careful. Didn’t do any of it locally. He was a jobbing builder, went all over the place, carried out the attacks while he was away and even then, travelled a bit from wherever he was working, according to what we’ve managed to pull together.’

  ‘So, how… Never mind. Tell me after. For now, let’s not talk shop, eh?’ She shifted her backside across so that she could lean towards him and settled her head on his shoulder. ‘You scared me, going off like that. I thought…’ He felt her slump against him. ‘I don’t know what I thought. Lots of things. But mainly, I can’t lose you.’

  ‘You’re not going to. But like you said, I had to do something and that was the only thing I could think of. Not that it got me anywhere.’

  ‘You’ve been driving all that time? You must be knackered.’

  ‘I am. But not quite all the time. I had to stop for a little while. Shut my eyes for a few minutes.’

  Which was what he’d intended at the time, even if it wasn’t what had happened. It seemed like a small omission to make to keep her calm and relaxed. He couldn’t handle any more stress just now. He let his head rest onto hers and they were quiet for a time. He began to nod. Then jerked awake as his phone began to buzz in his pocket.

  ‘Who the hell’s that at this time of day?’ Louise demanded as she straightened up ‘Christ, it’s not even six.’

  Pete took out the phone and checked the screen. Number withheld. A sinking feeling seeped into his gut, cold and clammy. He touched the green icon. ‘Gayle.’

  ‘Tried to find us, didn’t you?’ A dry chuckle. ‘I bet you were out there all night. Along with half the bloody force. Didn’t look far enough, though, did you?’ Another chuckle. ‘Still, we’ll be back down there soon enough. Post arrived yet, has it?’

  ‘No.’ It didn’t arrive until at least ten, most days, and the parcel post was later still. As long as he made it home to collect it before Louise and Annie, he’d be able to save them both the trauma of seeing whatever Southam had sent.

  Pete didn’t think for a moment he was bluffing. It wasn’t his style.

  ‘Oh, well. When it does…’

  ‘You know you’re not going to get away with this, don’t you?’ Pete said.

  ‘Why not? You ain’t got far towards stopping me yet.’

  We’ve got your brother, though, and he was the brains of the operation, Pete thought, but didn’t say. ‘You really think you’re going to evade every copper in the country? Because that’s who’s going to be looking for you from this morning.’

  ‘And if they find me, I’ve got a chip off the old block to bargain with, haven’t I? Nothing like it to screw with your head, force you into a mistake.’

  ‘Which is why we don’t allow victim’s relatives to work cases.’

  ‘No, but you will, won’t you? You’ll find a way if anyone will.’

  How had the Wiltshire man got to know so much about him? Unless… Tommy. He must have been torturing information out of the kid. Pete was sorely tempted to tell him that if he’d hurt Tommy in any way at all, he’d be hunted down like a dog and no court would ever see him alive, regardless of the consequences but, with teeth clamped together and rage boiling inside him, an effort of will that he hadn’t realised he was capable of somehow stopped him.

  ‘You think you know me?’ he said instead. ‘You don’t know the half of it.’

  Southam laughed. ‘I don’t need to, Gayle. I know your nightmares – that’s enough.’

  And before Pete could respond, he cut the call.

  Pete drew a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

  ‘What did he mean?’ Louise demanded. ‘About the post.’

  Pete shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’ Which was true, at least technically. ‘Mind games, I expect. Trying to scare me into a mistake.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. It was too specific. He’s done something, hasn’t he?’

  There was no way Pete was going to tell her what he suspected. ‘That’s the point, love. Make it as plausible as possible. That’s what makes it work.’

  She pursed her lips, not convinced but unable to argue the point further with no real evidence and the likelihood of playing right into the man’s hands.

  Pete squeezed her hand and leaned across to kiss her. ‘I might as well have that shower, now we’re awake.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Pete sat down, put his coffee on the table and reached for the recording system as Dick Feeney settled beside him. On the other side of the table the gaunt, long-haired and grizzled-faced Jonas Hanson was already seated.

  ‘Do want anything, Jonas?’ Pete asked him. ‘Do you prefer Jonas or Joe?’

  ‘Joe’ll do.’

  ‘OK. So, you’ll have been told why you’re here when they arrested you up in Mablethorpe. On suspicion of rape and causing the deaths of multiple victims. Have you
got anything you want to tell us?’

  ‘No comment.’ Hanson kept his gaze on the table between them.

  ‘OK. We don’t need a confession,’ Pete said with more confidence than he felt. ‘We’ve got all the evidence we need. Based on that, you’re looking at a full-life term. This is about giving you the chance to put your side of the story. I know there’s always at least two sides. Sometimes an explanation that we haven’t seen. Maybe you collected all that stuff in your loft in some innocent way?’

  ‘No comment.’

  ‘I mean, they sent your computer down with you. Maybe you got all that stuff off e-bay or something? We can check your purchase history and see if that’s the case. Or maybe there’s some sort of collectors’ organisation for that kind of memorabilia?’ He shrugged. ‘It’s not something I’ve heard of, but I’m always willing to learn.’

  Hanson stayed silent.

  ‘Oh, and we’ve been out to the farm. Got your records. Very thorough. They put you in several places where young women went missing while you were there.’

  ‘No, they don’t.’ He looked up briefly at Pete, his pale eyes fierce.

  Ah, a response at last, Pete thought. He nodded. ‘’Fraid they do, old son. The vicinities, at least.’

  ‘Coincidence.’ His gaze had returned to the table.

  Not that many, it isn’t. But he didn’t argue. Not yet. ‘So, what about the stuff in your attic? Where did that all come from?’

  Hanson looked up and connected for the first time, a calculating glint in his eyes. ‘Did you have a warrant to go up there? Or into my house, even? ‘Cause I can’t see how you’d have got one and, without it or my permission, anything you found up there’d be inadmissible, wouldn’t it?’

  Pete shook his head. ‘We didn’t need a warrant. You were reported missing. That gave us reasonable cause to enter the property to ascertain your possible condition or whereabouts. Plus, in your absence, we had permission from your next of kin.’

  His lip curled into a sneer. ‘I haven’t…’ He stopped, eyes narrowing as realisation dawned. ‘Sal. She let you in.’ It was a statement, not a question.

  Pete nodded. ‘She was concerned for your safety. How’s that for ironic?’

  Hanson’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’ve got nothing more to say to you. I want a solicitor.’

  Pete tipped his head. ‘You’ll need a good one, to get you out of this.’ He took a sip of his coffee and checked his watch. ‘Interview terminated at 08.17.’ He switched off the recorder and stood up. Looking down at Hanson, he said, ‘You do realise what happens to the likes of you in prison, don’t you? It ain’t good, I can tell you that.’

  Hanson looked up, eyes hooded. ‘Solicitor,’ he said.

  ‘Come on, DC Feeney. Let’s go prepare his bed for him to lie in. For as long as they let him.’

  Hanson sneered. ‘You’ve got nothing. Circumstantial, at best. You won’t get a conviction on that.’

  Pete turned back from the door. ‘I thought you wanted a solicitor?’

  Hanson shrugged. ‘Just saying.’

  Pete stepped forward, leaning his fists on the desk between them as he stared down at the smaller man. ‘You’ve got away with this for so long, you think you’re clever. Invincible, even.’ He nodded. ‘And you have been clever about it. But not clever enough.’ He winked and straightened up, turning away to follow Dick out of the small room, leaving Hanson to dwell on that while he waited alone for his solicitor.

  *

  In the corridor, Dick looked at him with a twinkle in his eye. ‘His brief won’t be here for another hour or more. That’s a long time for him to wonder what we’ve got on him.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Pete agreed as they reached the custody desk. ‘Bob, you’ll need to put Mr Hanson back in his box for a bit.’

  ‘Lawyered up, has he?’

  Pete nodded.

  ‘Shame.’

  ‘Yeah, well. We’ll have him.’

  As they headed back upstairs, Dick said, ‘He’s right, though. Hanson. The case is basically circumstantial apart from that one hooker’s witness statement that the judge might not even admit into evidence.’

  ‘True, but the weight of evidence comes into it. Plus, he doesn’t know that. Not now. He might try for a deal when his brief gets here.’

  ‘But if he doesn’t? I mean, we’ve only got half a day or so to charge him and Fast-track won’t want to do that without something concrete to support it.’

  Pete turned around to face him, annoyance flaring inside him. ‘So, we’d best find something, hadn’t we?’

  ‘How?’ Dick asked. ‘All that paper work’ll only add to the circumstantial, it’s way too late for forensics and we haven’t got time to use the press.’

  Pete raised an eyebrow. ‘Is it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Too late for forensics?’

  ‘Have you seen the state of a builder’s van? And it’s been ages since his last victim that we know of.’

  ‘That we know of, yes. But what if there’s been a more recent one? I mean, why was he all of a sudden off on a road-trip?’

  Dick’s eyes widened. ‘What – you think he’s done one in the past few days?’

  Pete’s eyebrows rose. ‘It’s worth a shot.’

  ‘But the car’s up north still.’

  ‘They do have civilization up there. Even electric lights now, so I’ve heard.’

  ‘Wonders will never cease,’ Dick responded. ‘Best get onto them then, eh?’

  They continued up the stairs and took their seats in the squad room, Pete opening his desk drawer to withdraw a note book.

  ‘How’d it go?’ Jane asked as Pete took out his notebook.

  She must have arrived while they were downstairs. She seemed to be busy already, though, and with a steaming mug at her elbow.

  ‘He lawyered up,’ Dick told her. ‘But the boss sowed a seed of doubt before we left him to stew.’

  Finding what he was looking for, Pete picked up the phone and dialled.

  ‘Lincolnshire police. How can I help?’

  ‘Can you transfer me to the Mablethorpe station? This is DS Gayle of Devon and Cornwall.’

  ‘One moment, sir.’

  There was a pause, then a ring-tone. A click. ‘Police. How can I help?’

  ‘Is this the Mablethorpe station?’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘This is DS Gayle from Exeter. You transferred a prisoner down to us last night. Something’s just come up in interview.’

  ‘Oh, yes?’

  ‘Can you get forensics done on his car as a matter of urgency? We’re looking for fibres that don’t belong and, more importantly, for blood. Specifically, blood that doesn’t belong to the car’s owner. If you didn’t take his DNA, it’ll be on the steering wheel for exclusion.’

  ‘This is… Blimey, you don’t want much, do you? Blood and DNA results in fourteen hours! You’ll be lucky.’

  ‘I know, but if you can get them in process, that could get us a further twelve hours, pending the results. Let me know, will you?’

  ‘OK.’ The man still sounded dubious but at least he was willing to try. Pete hoped.

  He gave him the station’s direct number, thanked him and rang off.

  ‘Have we heard anything from the hospital yet?’

  The door opened to his right, admitting Ben and Jill.

  ‘They managed to stabilize him in the end and fixed him up. He’s not out of the woods by a long shot, but he’s headed in the right direction, they reckon,’ Jane reported as they headed for their seats.

  ‘Is that Dave?’ Jill checked.

  Jane nodded.

  ‘At least we’ve got a bit of good news, then. I don’t suppose we’ve got a confession from Jonas Hanson?’

  ‘He’s stringing out his five minutes of fame,’ Jane told her.

  Pete frowned. Then one eyebrow rose. ‘Well done, Jane,’ he said, getting up.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You’ve given me an
idea.’

  ‘What?’

  He headed for the door, ignoring her repetition.

  *

  ‘Come.’

  Pete opened the door and stepped in. ‘Chief.’

  ‘Peter. What can I do for you?’

  The question sounded far from genuine, the tone flat and uninterested as DCI Silverstone stared up at him.

  ‘I think we’d benefit from a last-minute appeal to the media in the Hanson case, sir. Get the TV crews down here and make a national appeal for witnesses or victims. He didn’t start off with killing these women, did he? They work up to it. Indecent exposure, theft, burglary, rape. Someone must have survived and can tell their story. Or someone must have seen something, at least.’

  ‘That sounds a little desperate, Detective Sergeant.’

  ‘Dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s, sir. We’ve got a mountain of circumstantial evidence but only one witness statement so far. More would be helpful.’

  ‘And with the man already in custody, time is of the essence.’

  ‘Exactly. We have got one other iron in the fire, but the more the better.’

  ‘And what exactly is that?’

  ‘Forensics.’

  Silverstone’s eyes flashed wide in surprise. ‘Forensics? How long has it been since his last attack?’

  ‘We’re hoping just a few days, sir. Why else has he suddenly upped and offed on an extended road-trip without telling anyone he was going?’

  Silverstone tipped his head, lips pursed. ‘All right. But we have only a matter of hours, Sergeant.’

  ‘A simple test for blood doesn’t take long, sir. And I have asked them to prioritise it.’

  ‘Very well. In the meantime, I should be able to get an urgent press conference organised.’

  ‘Perfect. Thank you, sir.’ Pete turned and reached for the door.

  ‘And what of the still un-arrested Southam brother, Detective Sergeant?’ Silverstone asked before he got hold of the handle.

  Pete stiffened and turned back to face the senior man, who was sitting there with his fingers steepled in front of him, an innocent expression on his face. ‘He seems to have taken it into his head to contact me personally, sir. He’s done so twice so far.’

  ‘And have you shared the details of those contacts with Detective Sergeant Bridgman?’