by Anita Waller
He stood. ‘Think you’ll be okay tomorrow to come in and sign that statement?’’
She nodded.
‘The doctor will take you to a much nicer room than this. I want you to be examined properly, Linda, so if you’ve missed anything out, anything that he did to you, you must tell him.’
‘He didn’t rape me, DI Dunbar, if that’s what you’re asking. He likes little girls and big men, it seems.’
‘Sarah, stay with Linda, will you. See that she gets home safely and go in with her. Talk to her mum, make sure she understands that Linda needs some TLC at the moment.’
Dunbar smiled at Linda and left the interview room. He went to his office and made himself a coffee. The bruising down Linda’s arm and along her shoulder showed just what pressure had been exerted and he knew he had to calm down before interviewing Mark Carter. He sat at his desk and picked up the phone.
‘Pilot?’ Hi, it’s Jake. Listen, why don’t you take Grace and those other two little darlings of yours down to play on the swings? It’s over, Pilot, It’s over. Is Iain Dunne there? I need to speak to him and send your protective detail away. He needs to go and look for another job.’
Chapter 48
There was pandemonium at Hillside. Iain had spoken to Dunbar and was looking shell-shocked. He explained to Pilot that it appeared to be Mark Carter who had passed information on to Treverick and that Treverick was dead but beyond that, he knew nothing.
‘So I’m going, Mr. Farmer, along with everybody else. I’m not sure what we’ll do yet, but I’m just so glad your little one is safe now. It’s been a pleasure being stationed here and meeting your lovely family. I’m taking a couple of weeks off while I think what to do. We might know a bit more by then as well.’
Pat looked at her son.
‘Does this mean we can go back home? We’ve imposed on you for long enough and I need my own home.’
‘Best let me check with Dunbar first. Don’t forget the last person inside Moorgate was Treverick, so he might want to have it all checked out first.’
She nodded. ‘You’re right. And I’m not altogether convinced Josh will want to go back to Moorgate.’ She nodded towards the settee where Josh was sitting by the side of Jess. ‘The lad is smitten, methinks,’ she grinned.
Dunbar looked at Mark Carter through the two-way mirror of the interview room. Gone was the smartly dressed man he had always known; in his place, an unhealthy-looking, blood-spattered, shrivelled individual, every part of him shaking. Dunbar walked into the room and didn’t offer to get a doctor for him.
He switched on the recorder, said the names of the people present and asked Mark if he required a solicitor.
Mark declined and Dunbar began the interview by asking him to confirm his name and address. Mark mumbled his address without looking up.
‘And this is the address where Ronald Treverick was killed by police action this morning?’
He nodded and murmured, ‘Yes.’ His head stayed down.
‘When did you first meet Treverick?’
‘February 1974. He came to film John Thornton at that time. He was known as Brian Lazenby.’
‘And when did you get together this last time?’
‘He rang me when Angel left him.’
‘Grace. She’s called Grace.’
He shrugged. ‘She was Angel for seven years.’
‘Tell me the story, Mark. It will be better for you when this goes to court.’
‘He rang me. I met him. We fell in love. End of story.’
‘Not quite. I have questions. Firstly, why did you meet with him? Why didn’t you just tell me?’
‘I believed I could convince him to stop. I really got to know him when he was with Amy and I liked him. I thought I could help him move away and the whole thing would stop. We talked and talked when we did meet up and I saw another side to him that I trusted. He convinced me that what he was doing, what we were doing, was right in every way. I don’t expect you to understand...’
‘Too damn right I don’t understand. Why did he wait so long to move in with you? Why did he have to live in a caravan and then that awful little flat above the grotto?’
‘He also had a tent between the caravan and the grotto. He didn’t want me to be in any danger. And he said that if things went wrong, I wouldn’t be drawn into the endgame.’
‘So why did you both go down to the harbour last Friday?’
Finally, Carter lifted his head.
‘The sun came out. Simple, really. He changed his appearance a bit and went down there first. I followed soon after and we sat on the bench for quite a while. Did Linda tell you? He thought he’d done enough to scare her into not speaking to you.’
‘He had. No, it wasn’t Linda. Remember the camera? You’re all on it. And I had no idea it was you until I saw the photo. We guessed there was an accomplice. There had to be one, but I never thought for a second you would be that stupid. What were you arguing about?’
‘He wanted me to speed things up and leave Angel vulnerable. You’ll have realised by now I was passing information on to him. I thought it was too soon.’
‘I just want to back-track a little here. When he rang you after Grace ran away from him, what convinced you to meet up with him? You knew what he had done, what he was capable of. So what was it that attracted you to a paedophile and a murderer?’
‘Just one thing, Jake.’
‘DI Dunbar.’
‘Just one thing: Amy Thornton. She was the one thing we had in common. I loved her and in a twisted kind of way, so did he. He just mentioned her name and I was lost. We were lovers within a week of that first meeting. It wasn’t just a physical thing. In ordinary circumstances, I would have spent the rest of my life with him. And now he’s dead and I’m covered in his blood.’
‘You’ll be in the shower shortly.’
Again, he lifted his head. ‘I’m pleading guilty. I don’t regret anything, I loved Ronald and I’d do it all again; whatever you end up charging me with, I shall plead guilty. Angel has suffered enough and I don’t want her having to relive it all.’
Dunbar stood. ‘Get a solicitor, Mark. Get a solicitor. We’ll speak more after you’ve had a shower and something to eat and drink.’
He left the room and walked up the stairs back to his office. He had phone calls to make, people to see and he needed personal time out. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.
EPILOGUE
Grace and Olivia rolled over and over down the grassy bank; Noah watched them, delight on his face. He held up his arms to his Mummy and she lifted him up.
‘No. Noah,’ she said gently, ‘you’re not quite old enough to do that, yet. Just watch your sisters.’
Grace ran back up the bank followed by a panting Olivia.
‘Can Papa take us to the swings in the park, please, Mummy?’
‘Papa’s at work, sweetheart. Maybe we’ll have a walk down later, after Noah has had his afternoon nap.’
‘Is it still safe?’
Lauren laughed. ‘As long as you’re with either me or Papa or the two Nans or Josh or Dawn or Jess or Granddad Ken, you’ll always be safe.’
And then Grace asked the question she asked every day.
‘Is he dead, Mummy? Is Ronald dead?’
‘Yes, my love, Ronald is dead.’
Dunbar was sitting in his office when the phone call came through.
‘DI Dunbar, it’s Marcia Shaw.’
He hesitated, not quite knowing how to respond.
‘Hello?’
‘Hello, Marcia. How can I help you?’
‘Is he really dead?’
‘Yes.’
‘So Matthew will inherit anything he’s left?’
Dunbar put down the phone and just stared at it. A flashback to Kenny Raines’ body hit him and he knew he could never speak to her again. God help that little boy with a mother like that.
He pulled his computer towards him and looked at Eric’s photographs one mo
re time. He had a temporary flashback moment and shivered.
What if?
What if he had accepted Mark Carter’s offer of help in downloading the photographs?
The End
A Note From the Publisher
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Bloodhound Books specialises in crime fiction and psychological thrillers. If you enjoyed Angel you will also enjoy;
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The Quiet Ones
A powerful psychological thriller that pulls you along and then hits you hard and fast with its genuinely disturbing revelations. Betsy Reavley’s Amazon top 100 best-selling thriller is a must read.
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Forgotten
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Acknowledgements
My grateful thanks go as always to my family who patiently listen to me trying out different avenues in the plotline, who get texts and emails at odd times and who just as patiently respond to my requests for instant answers.
Individually I have to thank
Erica Cheetham, who was the first one to read Beautiful and who read the first 50,000 words of Angel for me when I was starting to doubt; her words were inspirational.
Cerys Kitchen, my twelve year old granddaughter and proof-reader for her attention to detail; let no typos go undiscovered!
Karen Tighe, for her brilliant feedback and nagging.
Siân and Kirsty Waller, for their unswerving support.
Bloodhound Books for their commitment to a seventy-year- old author. Thank you, Fred and Betsy, for your belief in me.
There are many people who I haven’t named individually who have, in some small way, kept me strong. You know who you are – the people who have written fantastic reviews, helped with publicity and quite a huge chunk of thanks goes to the United States reading public who have helped a British writer climb the charts over there to quite dizzying heights!