by Anita Waller
‘We’re being followed.’ He smiled at his mother.
‘Really?’ She returned his smile.
‘Think so. Dark grey car, think it’s a Mondeo but not sure, about three cars back. Been with us since we left home.’
‘It can’t have, numpty, we stopped for petrol.’
‘Huh-uh.’
She glanced in her wing mirror, to locate the car. ‘Let’s see then.’ She laughed. ‘There’s a road off to the left in a minute called Pocket Handkerchief Lane. Nice road, bit bumpy. Let’s see if it follows us down there.’
‘This is good,’ Daryl grinned. ‘It’s like James Bond. Floor it, Mum. Let’s see what he does.’
‘Is it a he?’
‘There was a man in it when it waited in the petrol station for us to go out first.’
Suddenly, it wasn’t a game. Daryl’s words made Megan shiver. She decided not to indicate the left turn onto the quaintly named road; she simply accelerated around the corner into it, negotiated two large potholes and then put her foot down. The two cars that had been immediately behind her continued on the main road, the driver of the first one having used the horn to indicate his annoyance.
The Mondeo didn’t indicate, either, but it did follow her. She couldn’t increase her speed; the road was badly surfaced, and the last thing she needed was something to happen to the car. She knew there were houses further along, once she had passed the wind farm, and she saw that as safety.
Megan’s mind was racing. This was something to do with Carl, she knew it. He was into something really bad, and It seemed that his family were about to pay for it.
‘Mum?’ Daryl looked scared.
‘Daryl, there’s a bend coming up. Take off your seatbelt, and slightly open your door. Be careful. Hold on to something, I don’t want you falling out. I’ll slow down, and you get out and run. Make your way to a house, they’ll help you. Get my mobile. DI Roberts’ number is in it. Ring it as soon as you’re moving.’
Daryl reached down for the phone, thinking how useless his own was without that number in it. He put his phone into Megan’s bag.
‘You’ve got my phone, Mum,’ he said, his voice trembling. ‘Take care.’ He slipped Megan’s mobile into his pocket and pulled the zip top closed. He didn’t want it falling out.
He clicked his seatbelt and opened the door a fraction. The car slowed, and he waited until the right moment. He tumbled out onto the grass verge and felt instant pain in his shoulder. He heard the car door slam, and his mother sped away. He rolled down into the ditch and waited, unzipping the pocket and removing the phone. The dark grey car shot past him, picking up speed.
Kenny’s face was grim. She’d obviously spotted him, and Carl was probably giving instructions from the backseat, but Kenny had reckoned without her having to slow down for that last sharp bend. Now, she would be easy to catch. Three of them, all at one go. Shame about the kid, he didn’t deserve this. With Carl gone, it lessened their chances of finding the surnames of the kids, and no more would have to die. He didn’t agree with killing kids.
He could see the houses in the distance and knew he had to finish it now. He put his foot down hard and slammed his left wing into the right bumper of the Astra. The yellow car took off, rose into the air, and flipped, three or four times. He only saw three, he was gone by the fourth turn that crushed the one occupant left in the car.
Kenny smiled. Job done.
Daryl was crying on the phone as he tried to tell DI Roberts what had happened, and then, he screamed as he heard the heart-breaking sound of the car overturning.
‘Daryl! Daryl!’ Roberts was shouting down the phone at the child. He had heard the sound of metal against road, down the phone. ‘Stay where you are. We’re coming to get you. Don’t go to anyone who isn’t a policeman. Promise me. Hang on.’
Daryl heard Roberts tell somebody to get on to the fucking Dinnington police and get them out to Pocket Handkerchief Lane, and then, he spoke once again into the phone.
‘Listen to me. Are you hidden from the road?’
‘I’m in a ditch,’ Daryl sobbed.
‘Then, I need you to stay there. Police will be with you in two minutes, I promise. Stay in that ditch. I’ll come and get you myself when I get there. Listen out for me shouting your name. I’ll call you Charlie. Only answer to Charlie, not Daryl. Understand?’
‘Okay,’ he sniffled. ‘Find my mum.’
‘I will,’ Roberts said, hoping he wasn’t lying. ‘Five minutes, Daryl, five minutes, and I’ll be with you. But you must stay in that ditch.’
‘Okay,’ Daryl said, and disconnected. He curled down even lower into the ditch, and then, he heard the first sirens and saw the blue lights. He remained still. DI Roberts would get him. DI Roberts would find his mum, get her off to hospital, if she needed it. He guessed he wasn’t going to be getting his new shoes today. He brushed the tears away from his face and began to shake. Every limb felt like jelly, and his shoulder was hurting so much. He hoped his mum wasn’t hurting.
Charlie, that was what he had to listen out for, Charlie, not Daryl. When he heard Charlie, the nightmare would be over.
Chapter 12
Cissie Johnston and Sally Brownlow walked back up the main road toward Cissie’s home. Sally had offered to go and feed the cat, but Cissie insisted she needed to go to her own home. She had to get it over with, that first footfall knowing Ella wasn’t going to be there waiting for her.
Cissie retrieved the key that Megan had brought to her after securing the house and inserted it into the front door. She hesitated, and Sally put her arm around her, giving her the support she needed.
‘I’m here for you,’ Sally said gently. ‘Do you want me to go in first?’
Cissie shook her head and turned the key. She pushed open the door and let out a small cry.
Ella’s night-time teddy was on the stairs, where it lived during the day until it was time to take it back to bed. Cissie turned and buried her head into Sally’s shoulder, sobs exploding from her, her slight frame shaking as if it couldn’t hold up any longer.
Cissie lifted her head, spent and drained. ‘I’m sorry.’ She was broken.
‘Hey, come on. Let’s go in. We’re all here for you. You don’t need to be on your own until you’re ready.’
Cissie moved towards the stairs and picked up the teddy. ‘Mr Grumps can go with me.’
‘And so he should.’ Sally smiled at the still-distraught woman. She had no idea if she was handling things properly. She’d never had to deal with a woman who had lost the only person in her life who mattered to her.
They went into the kitchen, and Cissie poured away water that had been left on the kitchen table, then immediately re-filled the glass. She took a long drink, then asked if Sally wanted anything.
‘Water, please,’ Sally responded. ‘I’ll get it.’
Glasses were in the first cupboard she checked, and they both sat at the table cradling their drinks.
‘What do I do next?’
‘I’m not sure. I think you have to wait until they tell you Ella’s body has been released, and then, you can organise the funeral.’ Sally reached across and clasped her friend’s hand. ‘I’m here for you, and I’ll help,’ she said gently. ‘Is Ella’s dad in the picture?’
Cissie shook her head. ‘Not really. He didn’t want to know when I told him I was pregnant, so I moved to a different part of the city, and I don’t think he even knows what I had. I’ve no idea where he is now, but I do know where he used to live. Surely I don’t have to tell him?’
‘That’s up to you, Cissie. I wouldn’t, but you’re not as hard as me. You have time to think about it.’
Cissie sat deep in thought, occasionally wiping a tear from her cheek. She stood and took the glass to the sink, rinsed it out and stood it on the drainer.
The cat flap clattered as Misty heard her mistress rattle the cat food, and Cissie placed the dish carefully on the floor before refilling the water dish.
&n
bsp; ‘I’ll go and get a few things,’ she said with a sigh, ‘and we’ll head back to yours, if that’s okay. There’s more food than usual in the cat dish, so she will be okay now. I thought I might be able to stay here, but I can’t. It’s too soon. Is that okay?’
‘Cissie, you stay with us as long as you need to.’
Sally watched as her friend left the kitchen and went upstairs. She couldn’t do anything to help her, other than be there, and she could damn well do that.
‘Charlie? Charlie?’ At the sound of Dave Roberts’ voice, Daryl stood.
‘I’m here,’ he called, and waved with his right arm. His left shoulder was too painful to move.
Roberts scrambled down the bank, landing in the ditch with a thud. ‘You okay, Daryl?’
Daryl shook his head. ‘I’ve hurt my shoulder. Have you got my mum?’
‘I can see two ambulances, but I came straight for you. Let’s get you back up to the road, and then, I’ll see what I can find out. We’ll get the paramedics to take a look at that shoulder.’
Roberts half carried Daryl up the incline and back onto the closed-off road, waving a paramedic over.
The woman led Daryl away, limping, to the ambulance and sat him inside while she checked him out. His knee was badly swollen and causing him discomfort. She laid him on the stretcher bed and placed an oxygen mask over his face.
‘Breathe this in, Daryl, it will help with the pain.’
‘But my mum…’
‘Somebody will be here soon to tell you whatever you want to know.’ Her voice was soothing, and he felt the pain lessening. She stayed with him, monitoring him, talking in a gentle way until he felt relaxed. He wanted to see his mum.
Roberts was at the other scene, the one with the upturned car. The car with Megan Clarkson’s body still in it, and a lot of blood.
She had saved her son’s life, there was no doubt about that, but at the expense of her own. And now, Roberts had the challenging task of breaking the news to Daryl. Ideally, the lad’s father should be the one doing that, but he had seen the intelligence in Daryl, and Roberts knew he would have to be honest with him.
He stayed a few minutes longer and then walked back to the ambulance containing a much more comfortable Daryl. He climbed the step into the body of the vehicle and sat across from the young boy. Looking at the paramedic, he saw her nod. He took hold of Daryl’s hand.
‘How’s Mum?’
Roberts paused for a heartbeat and then spoke. ‘I’m sorry, Daryl, your mum didn’t make it.’
Daryl’s eyes widened. ‘What do you mean? She’s dead?’
Roberts couldn’t simply say yes, he couldn’t. ‘The car overturned…’
Daryl’s eyes filled with tears. First, Ella, now, his mum.
‘Daryl, I need you to think. The car that was chasing you, did you get the registration? Something about it?’
Daryl didn’t want to think about anything but his mum, but he sensed the urgency in Roberts’ words.
Daryl pulled away the oxygen mask and closed his eyes. ‘It was a dark grey, quite posh-looking car, I think a Mondeo, but I’m not sure.’ He hesitated. ‘The registration I’m seeing is JWW 51KA.’
Roberts wrote it down and stared at it. ‘This isn’t a reg number. Did the plate look odd?’
‘No, that’s in the wing mirror. You need to read it the other way ‘round. I thought it best to tell you how I saw it, so I didn’t get it wrong. I did see the man, though. I got a good look at him when he waited to let us pull out of the petrol station.’
‘Daryl Clarkson, you’re a genius. I’m so, so sorry about your mum. I have to go now to find your dad and tell him. Let him know where you are. Is he at home?’
‘No, Mum threw him out. I think he’s living with Vinnie Walmsley’s mum.’
Dave Roberts hoped his face didn’t show the shock he was feeling. When Aileen Walmsley had been interviewed, she had laughed aloud at the idea of a partner in her life.
‘How long has he been with her?’ He was trying to be careful with the questioning. The boy had enough to cope with.
‘Two days, I think. Have you got to tell him?’ He sobbed, great heaving sobs that made Roberts lean forward and hold him as gently as he could, aware of the shoulder injury.
‘I have to tell him,’ he explained. ‘He’s your parent. He has to know. He’ll want to know.’
His brain was racing. Three deaths, clearly all linked, and it seemed that Carl Clarkson was tied closely to all of them.
‘I have to go, Daryl, now that I know you’re safe, but I’m going to send Heather Shaw with you in the ambulance. She’ll stay with you, she won’t leave you alone. And I’ll get your dad to you as soon as I find him. You’re a brave lad, Daryl, and I promise we’ll find whoever did this to you and your mum.’
He climbed down from the ambulance and immediately patched the now-reversed registration into the station. He received the answer he expected. False number plates. Three different vehicles, three false number plates. This wasn’t a small operation. This was someone with enough backing to hold a fleet of vehicles that couldn’t be traced. And he’d stake his reputation on it being drugs and not cash that had been buried in that hole underneath Vinnie Walmsley’s head.
Aileen Walmsley saw the police car pull up outside. Carl had decided to wait ’til after dark before leaving, and they were cuddled up on the sofa, him watching the television, her reading her newest book. The slam of the car door caused her to look up.
She sighed. ‘It’s the police again, Carl. You’d better go upstairs. They’ll be wanting to tell me something else about Vinnie.’
Carl stood and headed for the hallway. He was at the top of the stairs when Roberts spoke. ‘I need you to get Carl Clarkson, Ms Walmsley.’
‘He’s not—’
‘Yes, he is. Stop pratting about, Aileen. Is he upstairs?’
She didn’t answer but opened the door wider to allow him access.
‘Mr Clarkson? Get down here please. I need to speak with you urgently.’
There was silence, no sound of movement.
‘Carl!’ Aileen shouted. ‘Get the fuck down here pronto, or I’ll send the DI up there.’
There was the sound of a door opening, then a curse as Carl hurt himself on something. He limped to the top of the stairs. ‘What?’
‘Can you come downstairs, please, Mr Clarkson?’ Roberts remained polite.
Carl continued to limp as he came down the stairs. ‘Fucking door, stubbed my fucking toe,’ he grumbled.
‘Into the lounge, please, sir,’ Roberts insisted, secretly hoping the toe was broken.
Carl lounged on the sofa and waited. He didn’t like this one, this Roberts bloke. He guessed he was pretty smart.
Dave Roberts sat down in the chair opposite Daryl’s dad and waited for the smart alec comments he suspected were about to come out of Carl Clarkson’s mouth.
When they didn’t, he spoke. ‘Mr Clarkson, I’m sorry to have to inform you that your wife, Megan Clarkson, died in a car accident earlier today.’
Shock was all over his face, and Roberts knew Carl Clarkson had known nothing of the events.
‘Megan? Dead?’ He was spluttering. ‘And Daryl? Was he with her?’
‘Yes, he was. He has an injury to his shoulder. His mother slowed down and made him get out of the car before she was rammed. Her car overturned. She saved his life.’
‘Where is he now?’ Carl stood, casting his eyes round wildly, as if looking for clothing or shoes to get him on his way to his son.
‘He’s been taken to the Children’s Hospital. Do you have transport?’
‘No, my wife had the car.’
Roberts noticed the look of surprise on Aileen’s face, and he filed the information away in his brain for later.
‘I can take him, DI Roberts,’ she said.
‘I want to know more.’ Carl’s attitude was changing. The bullying that Roberts had witnessed when the children had been in the station was re
-surfacing.
‘What do you want to know, sir?’
‘Who fucking rammed the car, for a start.’
‘We don’t know. Your son remembered the registration, but they were false plates. We know it was a man behind the wheel, and that your son saw him, so maybe we’ll know more when he’s looked at some photographs.’
‘I’ll go see him. Aileen, get ready. I’ll make him fucking remember who’s done this.’
‘No, you won’t, Mr Clarkson. Daryl doesn’t actually want to see you, but my DC is with him, and she won’t be leaving his side. She has instructions to arrest you if you upset Daryl in any way. I can assure you, we’ll find some charge that will stick.’
‘He won’t upset Daryl, DI Roberts. I’ll see to that.’ Aileen’s voice was unyielding, and Carl slumped backwards.
Roberts stood. ‘I’ll be in touch, Mr Clarkson. Don’t leave the area, will you? I may have some questions.’
They stood together at the window and watched as the driver held open the rear door for Roberts. The car pulled silently away, and still, they hadn’t spoken.
Carl turned, and then, Aileen spoke. ‘Shithead.’
‘What?’
‘I said shithead. That kid of yours found my lad, took the police to him, and you couldn’t bloody care less about him. You only want to go see him to find out what he knows, not how he is, and I tell you what, shithead, Roberts knows that. That’s why he’s put a DC with Daryl, to protect him from you. And you seriously need to think about why your Megan’s died. She’s nothing like you. I reckon that feller who rammed her thought it was you in that car. Now, your lad is an orphan, ’cos you don’t want him, do you?’
‘Of course I want him,’ Carl blustered. ‘He’s my boy.’
‘No, he’s not. He’s Megan’s boy. He’ll never be yours. And it’s irrelevant whether you want him or not, ’cos he don’t want you. Now, get dressed, and I’ll take you to see him. I’m warning you, though. One word wrong to that little lad, and you’re on your own.’