Maggie knocked again, harder and with more authority. She heard a rustle as if somebody was getting up off the bed, and then the soft thud of shoeless feet padding towards the door. She held her breath. There was a pause, and she realised he must be looking at her through the peephole, her face distorted by the fisheye lens.
The door opened abruptly. Standing in front of her was a man with a half-grown beard, looking slightly grubby and unkempt. She glanced over his shoulder to the room beyond. There was nobody else there.
‘Hello, Duncan,’ she said, looking straight into his bloodshot eyes.
44
The clammy surface of Leo’s skin belied the deep, penetrating cold she felt. She wasn’t going to die of exposure – cold as she was, she knew it wasn’t as bad as that. But she might very well die of the infection that was raging through her system. Sometimes she felt she was slipping into delirium, seeing images that weren’t there. She thought she saw figures, mainly women dressed in long skirts and high-necked blouses. There was line after line of white reels, and metal wheels overhead being turned by giant rubber bands. She could hear the hum of machinery interspersed with a clack, clackety clack noise. Then she would sleep for a few moments and wake to the reality of her prison – a bare old mill – and the knowledge that those figures weren’t real. Her imagination had painted pictures of the past in her mind to comfort and distract her from her pain.
Leo dropped her head onto her chest and wondered what they were going to do with her. They hadn’t been for a while. It felt like weeks, but Leo was trying to keep a grasp on reality and knew this was only the second night that nobody had come. And in such a short time what had been nothing more than a painful wound had become a swollen, agonising lump of purple flesh.
Max and Ellie had to be looking for her, surely? Her sister wouldn’t believe for a moment that Leo had simply forgotten the baby’s christening, or that she would have gone away and totally ignored an event that Ellie had been planning with such excitement for weeks. And she knew what Max would have done: he would have called Tom.
Tom.
She had been so stupid. She hadn’t been able to trust him when they were together and in the end had pushed him away. It had taken her a long time to forgive herself for that, but she genuinely believed she had learned her lesson. Tom had told her repeatedly that he would never hurt her, but he had. Or rather, she had hurt herself. She could have fixed it, but her stupid pride wouldn’t let her.
Tom had explained to her that everybody was vulnerable when they loved another person. That person might die, but does that mean you have to avoid loving anybody because at some point you might suffer the pain of loss? The thought of being vulnerable was more than she had been able to bear, but then she had met Julian. Another genuinely good man. And she had driven him away too. It was like a disease.
She had decided before all of this – this nightmare that seemed to have no end – that she was going to fix it with Julian. She wouldn’t have embarrassed him by turning up unexpectedly at the races, but she was going to make it right and she was going to change who she was. For years she had hidden behind a persona – the uber-cool Leo Harris who only wore silk and cashmere and only ever black and white.
The morning after her row with Julian, moved by a level of self-disgust she had never experienced before, she had raced into her bedroom and ripped all her monochrome outfits from their hangers. They were all going to the charity shop and she was going to wear bright red, royal blue, emerald green – she was going to be different.
And then this.
She wiped her sticky forehead with the back of her free hand and looked at the dark spongy surface of the skin of her other wrist. Would she lose her arm? She didn’t know any more than she knew if she would lose her life.
One thing that Leo recognised when she saw it, though, was a psychopath. Her years of studying psychology had seen to that. The man who had sewn her arm to its binding showed no remorse for his actions and was totally indifferent to her pain. He blamed her. If she hadn’t tried to free herself, he wouldn’t have had to do this.
The other man tended to speak calmly and sensibly in a voice that spoke of a public school upbringing. That had confirmed one thing in Leo’s mind: she wasn’t dealing with ordinary Manchester thugs. But what did they want? Why keep her here like this? She was sure that if they had planned to kill her, they would have done it by now.
Her brain started to feel fuddled again, and she allowed herself to begin the slide back into delirium, her escape from the pain and discomfort.
She was disturbed by a sound. Somebody was coming. Leo closed her eyes. If they weren’t wearing masks, she didn’t want to see them. Whatever their intentions up to now, if they knew she had seen their faces, they would have to kill her.
Leo heard footsteps coming towards her and felt a kick on her thigh, not hard enough to hurt her but to see if she was awake. She lifted her head slowly, keeping her eyes closed. She opened them to slits. His mask was in place. She opened them a fraction more but knew that they would be glassy with dull whites and dilated pupils.
‘Shit,’ the man muttered. He walked away from her and she heard the beep of mobile phone keys being pressed.
‘You need to get over here,’ he said without introduction. ‘The girl’s sick. Bring some stuff.’ There was a pause. ‘I don’t fucking know. You’re the doctor.’
That might have been interesting information had Leo not already guessed by the sutures in her arm.
She allowed herself to nod off, wanting to save her energy for when the posh boy’s accomplice arrived.
She didn’t know how long she had been dozing when she heard voices – the two men talking. The first one had been pacing up and down, a sound that had penetrated her light sleep, but she knew she should pretend to still be asleep.
The newcomer crouched down in front of her. She didn’t open her eyes, but she could feel his presence, smell a subtle but expensive aftershave and feel his warm breath on her cheek.
‘Stop panicking,’ he said to the first guy. ‘I’ll give her some antibiotics and she’ll be as right as rain. Not that it makes any difference.’
Leo tried not to react. That didn’t make sense. That sounded as if she was going to die, so why treat her?
‘How long do we have to keep this up for?’
‘Until he’s compliant. He has to take his punishment. If he doesn’t do as we ask, he knows what’s going to happen. It’s simple. He’s let me down once. Now it’s time for retribution. We give him twenty-four hours or we kill his wife.’
45
It was hard to read Duncan’s face. Not because it was grey from lack of decent food and sleep and covered in a thin light-brown beard, but because so many expressions flitted across it in quick succession. The first was horror, the second looked vaguely like relief.
Maggie didn’t know how she felt. Breathing seemed difficult, as if a band of steel was being tightened around her chest. Half of her wanted to reach out, hold him close and beg him to explain. The other half wanted to slap him hard across the face, to release some of the pent-up hurt, fear and anger that had been seething through her for the last few days. Once the tears started, though, she wouldn’t be able to stop them and she couldn’t fall apart yet. Not until she knew if he still loved her.
For a moment she didn’t think he was going to let her into the room, and then he stepped back and held the door wide.
Maggie walked into a small room that held not much more than a wardrobe, a hard-looking double bed and a flat-screen TV on the wall. A bedside lamp cast ovoid shadows on the beige walls. She sat down heavily on the bed and stared at her husband, who was leaning against the wall. She had been married to this man for ten years, and at that moment it felt as if she didn’t know him at all. Did anybody ever really know anybody else? Neither of them spoke for what seemed like minutes.
‘Talk,’ Maggie eventually said, setting her face in what she hoped was an assertive expressi
on.
Duncan shook his head as if it was all a mystery to him.
‘I’m sorry, Maggie. I didn’t want to leave you. I’m sorry I left the kids alone, but I knew you’d be home soon, and Josh sometimes seems like the most grown-up of all of us. I knew they’d be safe.’
He hadn’t known they would be safe. At best, he had hoped they would be safe. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t want to reveal what she knew. She wanted to see how much of the truth he was going to tell her.
‘I had to go. I was putting you all in danger,’ Duncan said. He paused and looked down. ‘I’d borrowed some money, and not from the right sort of people. They wanted it back. They said they would come to the house. It was best if I left. I didn’t do it for me; I did it for you.’
She felt the first stirrings of something like disgust and pushed them away.
‘In what way would we have been safer without you there if some men were coming to collect their cash?’ she asked.
Duncan looked nonplussed, as well he might. ‘It was me they wanted. Not you.’
‘No it wasn’t. It was their cash they wanted. And I was probably a better bet than you, so what would have kept them away?’
He fell silent, and she waited.
‘I don’t know what else to tell you,’ he said, a look of almost defiance on his face.
Trying to control her anger, Maggie pulled her phone out of her pocket. ‘Right. I’m calling the police. They can catch these guys, and that will be the end of it.’
Duncan lunged across the room and grabbed her wrist.
‘What the hell are you doing, Duncan!’ she shouted.
‘Don’t call the police, Maggie. It’s a bit more complicated.’
She waited again, and could see his mind ticking over. He was trying to think of another, slightly more plausible lie; it was written all over his face.
‘Duncan, I know a lot more than you realise. I’ll know if you’re lying to me, so I suggest you don’t even start.’
He still didn’t speak. He looked at the floor, but she was sure it wasn’t shame she was seeing. She could see his eyes were open, staring intently down as if trying to work out what to say next.
‘I thought you’d left me for another woman, you bastard,’ she hissed at him.
Duncan lifted his head and looked at her. ‘I wouldn’t do that, Mags. You know that.’
‘I don’t know anything. Have you any idea what the last few days have been like for me and the kids?’
He dropped his head again, and Maggie wished she could see his expression. She didn’t want him to have time to work out what to say – to decide what would cause the least grief or anger.
‘Start talking, Duncan. And start at the beginning because I know this is not only about what’s happening now. I want to know it all.’
Duncan slid slowly down the wall until he came to rest on the floor, his forearms resting on his raised knees. Maggie waited. She wasn’t going to prompt him. Eventually he started to talk without looking at her, staring at the carpet between his feet.
‘It started when I was at university.’
‘Which university would that be?’ Maggie asked, her expression showing nothing.
‘You know where I went to university. Leeds,’ he responded.
Maggie felt as if somebody had stamped on her chest, and for a moment she thought she might actually stop breathing. He was still lying to her. This man she loved with all her heart was still lying.
‘Stop it,’ she said. ‘Stop the bloody lies, Duncan – or should I say Michael.’ She practically spat out the name and was rewarded with a look of shock on her husband’s face. He didn’t speak, and she wasn’t going to prompt him. The next step was down to him.
After what seemed like hours, Duncan shook his head, and he began to speak.
‘The story I’m going to tell you isn’t about Duncan Taylor. I’m Duncan Taylor. Me. This is about another boy – somebody you’ve never met. And yes, his name is Michael.’
46
‘I told you to go home hours ago,’ Tom said as he approached Becky’s desk. ‘We’re neither of us much good to anybody unless we get a few hours sleep, and we need to start bright and early tomorrow with clear heads.’
Becky yawned and stretched her arms high in the air. The incident room was fairly quiet by now, although it would stay manned throughout the night.
‘You’re right, I know. But I’m getting so frustrated with this Adam Mellor guy. Maggie Taylor wasn’t lying about him being in the vicinity of her house that day – we’ve got him on ANPR going into the area, but we can’t pick him up leaving. He seems to have disappeared into thin air.’
‘He’s a smart guy. You and I both know there are ways of fooling the cameras, or maybe he used false plates.’
‘Well that’s not all. It’s just been confirmed that Ben Coleman did leave for holiday before Hayley went missing.’
‘Bollocks,’ Tom muttered. ‘Another dead end.’
‘Not as dead as you think,’ Becky had responded. ‘We’re still waiting for confirmation that he got on the flight, so we’ll see. But here’s the thing: it seems Ben and Adam shared the same counsellor at university – well, to be precise they attended the same practice. I don’t know yet who their specific counsellors were. Julian Richmond mentioned that Adam had had counselling, so I thought I’d check it out. I got somebody to check with the university to find out which practices they recommended, and then when I’d tracked down Adam’s, I requested a list of other clients. If they had counsellors from the same practice, there’s a possibility that he and Ben met in the waiting room or something?’
Tom sat down opposite Becky, the tiredness suddenly slipping away.
‘Here we go again. Another coincidence. Did Ben’s name come up on the original enquiry? It’s not ringing any bells.’
‘No, and neither did Adam’s. I checked that too. They were never questioned, and there are no clear links between either of them and the first victims.’
‘Where’s Ben gone, and when did he book it?’
‘He only booked it a week ago, but he’s gone to Antigua.’
‘We really do need to know if he caught that flight.’
Becky pulled a face. ‘I know. That’s the one bit of information I haven’t been able to get yet,’ she admitted. ‘Sorry. We’re trying to get the airline to check the flight manifest. You’ll know the minute I hear.’
Ben Coleman knew Hayley, and Adam Mellor appeared to be following Maggie Taylor. And Adam Mellor had a somewhat tenuous link to Leo. These were no coincidences.
‘And one more thing, boss,’ Becky said as if reading Tom’s mind. ‘We’ve been in touch with Adam Mellor’s family, and nobody knows of anybody who has died.’
Tom was convinced that Adam had something to do with Leo’s disappearance. They had next to nothing to go on, but somebody had come to her with a huge bouquet of flowers, knowing that she’d had a disagreement with her boyfriend. The only person Julian had told seemed to be Adam, who suddenly wasn’t able to make it to the races, an event he had organised himself.
So where was he hiding her?
‘Becky, your Mark’s a bit of a railway geek, isn’t he?’
Becky rolled her eyes. ‘And then some,’ she said, although the corner of her mouth lifted in an affectionate smile.
‘We know Adam’s family were closely involved with transport in Manchester over the years. Think of the locations we’ve had for these murders – all vaguely transport related. Mark might only know about the railways, but can you ask if he can think of anywhere else that might be a good place to hide somebody. Pity he’s not an expert on canals as well.’
‘Oh, you’d be surprised,’ Becky said. ‘And he certainly knows plenty of other nerds who can fill in the gaps. I’m on it.’
There was one more thing that Tom wanted to do.
‘If Adam Mellor and Ben Coleman’s only connection is through a student counsellor, it might be worth having anot
her look at that patient list, to see if any other names jump out.’
Becky picked up a sheet of A4 paper from her desk and passed it to Tom. She began collecting her things together, but Tom was only vaguely conscious of her actions.
‘Well bugger me,’ he said quietly.
Becky stopped what she was doing and the room was still for a moment. Tom didn’t speak.
‘What?’ Becky asked, clearly unable to restrain her curiosity.
‘Alexander.’
‘Who’s Alexander?’
‘Do you remember me telling you that my ex-boss Victor Elliott refused to listen when I said I thought Tamsin Grainger’s boyfriend was involved in some way? “It’s not that boy Alexander,” he used to say all the time; “he has an alibi,” which was true. But I knew there was something funny about the lad even though he couldn’t have killed either of the girls because he was definitely somewhere else on both occasions. Then I was taken off the case, and that was that.’
Tom looked at the sheet again.
‘And?’ Becky said, a note of exasperation creeping into her voice.
‘He’s here on the list. The same counselling service. Alexander. Right at the top.’
‘Alexander who?’
‘Alexander wasn’t his first name – old Victor called everybody by their surnames. His name was Michael. Michael Alexander.’
47
Duncan still wouldn’t look at Maggie. She was sure it was so that she wouldn’t spot the lies, and a wave of sadness washed over her. The fact was, she could no longer trust a word he said.
‘It all started when I went to university. And yes, you’re right. It was Manchester, not Leeds. I only lied a minute ago because it’s what you’ve always believed, and I didn’t want you to feel bad about making us move here.’
Maggie could feel her brow furrowing. That was a pathetic attempt at an excuse, and if he was trying to put the blame on her for his lies, it wasn’t going to work. And it hardly explained the original lie over ten years ago. She remembered the nights they had lain in bed, arms around each other while he told her how much he had loved university in Leeds and how difficult it had been to give it all up to go and look after his mother. The saddest thing of all was that those nights, nights that had meant everything to her, had been built on lies. But for now she had to let him speak.
Tom Douglas Box Set 2 Page 53