Bleed Like Me

by Staincliffe, Cath

  ‘Yes,’ he said. His voice sounded dry, rusty.

  ‘This is your opportunity to tell us what happened, Mr Cottam. Before I ask you any questions, is there anything you want to say?’

  ‘No,’ he said. The fact that he had spoken at all gave Janet some hope.

  ‘There are several matters we will eventually wish to talk to you about, Mr Cottam. For now, I want to concentrate on where your children, Theo and Harry, are. And that is all I will be asking you about this morning. Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said again.

  There was no desk between Janet and Cottam, no furniture to his right or left. The layout of the space was deliberate, designed to make the suspect feel exposed and vulnerable. There was nothing to hide behind, no table edge to fiddle with, no table legs to kick a foot against. No barrier, no support, no prop. Nothing to focus on for displacement activity. The interviewee was spatially isolated, so that the only interaction was with the interviewer opposite.

  Janet knew she had to set aside the wider picture, the crime scene photos of Cottam’s victims, the acres of press coverage and speculation, the frantic hunt for the missing boys, her own troubles, and focus in on Owen Cottam. Ignore as much as possible the solicitor at his side, Lee behind her right shoulder taking notes, and the winking of the video camera. She must create a magic circle around herself and Owen Cottam. Undivided attention, endless patience, bottomless interest. Engineering it so that Cottam and what he could share was the only thing in her view, and similarly making Cottam feel that all there was in his world now was the woman opposite.

  ‘Can you tell me where they are, your boys?’

  He didn’t respond and Janet let the silence play out.

  ‘Can you tell me why you took Theo and Harry from home on Monday morning?’

  He gave a half-shrug.

  ‘We have a witness who saw you with the children later that day at ten past four when you stopped on the A570 to buy food and drink. The following morning, according to a second witness, the boys were with you when you stopped at a petrol station and were confronted. Where are they now?’

  He didn’t meet her eye but looked up and past her.

  ‘Are they safe?’

  ‘It’s none of your business,’ he said. A gleam of something, perhaps hatred Janet thought, in his eyes.

  ‘It is my business,’ Janet said. ‘The preservation of life is my highest priority. Are Theo and Harry together?’ When he said nothing, she went on, ‘I think they are. I think they are together and they are waiting for you to come and get them.’

  Cottam shuffled, but didn’t speak. ‘Your boys,’ she said, ‘you can’t be with them. No one’s with them. Will you help me find them?’

  She saw slight movement, his hand tightening.

  ‘The reason why we are here,’ she said, ‘my duty as a police officer, is to protect people. Your sons need protection. You can’t protect them any more, you can’t go to them, and I think as their father you will want to see them safe.’

  He closed his eyes momentarily.

  ‘You bought some rope yesterday,’ Janet said. ‘What was that for?’ No answer. ‘Shall I tell you what I think? I think you got the rope because you wanted to take your own life. I think you wanted to take the boys with you, too. So you’d all be together.’ Janet’s voice remained neutral. She could have been talking about a trip to a theme park or seats on an aeroplane rather than wholesale slaughter. But she could sense the tension mounting, see his knees pressed together, his facial muscles tighten as she described the failure of his scheme. ‘Now that can’t happen. You can’t be together, but they still need your protection. Theo and Harry need you to tell me where they are so I can get them to safety.’

  ‘It’s too late,’ he said.

  Janet’s stomach fell. ‘Why is it too late?’ she asked, wanting him to spell it out.

  No reply.

  ‘Please can you tell me what you mean by too late?’

  ‘It’s all too late,’ he said, ‘everything. They’ll be dead.’ Janet noticed the phrasing. They will be dead. Not they are dead. The syntax gave her a surge of hope.

  ‘What happened?’ she said. Having said they were dead, he should find it easier now to volunteer some details. But he was quiet for a long time.

  ‘Perhaps it’s not too late. If you help us get to Theo and Harry, we can bring them to safety.’

  ‘Not if they’re drowned you can’t,’ he said swiftly.

  Janet looked up towards the video camera that was recording the whole interview. The word drowned should alert the team to avenues for the search. Lakes, canals, rivers, sewers. She remembered what Andy had said about mines and thought there might be shafts with underground water too.

  ‘How did they drown?’ she said.

  He made fleeting eye contact with her, animosity plain in his expression.

  ‘Can you tell me how they drowned?’

  Again nothing.

  ‘Can you tell me where they drowned?’

  He took a slow breath in, didn’t answer.

  ‘I can’t verify what you told me unless you give me some more information,’ Janet said. ‘If it was true then help me prove it.’

  His face was impassive, and he looked away and down. Absented himself as much as he was able.

  ‘Mr Cottam, I can’t take your word for it and I’d be failing in my responsibility as a police officer if I didn’t pursue this and bring your children back, even if it is too late.’

  He continued to look at the floor.

  ‘You wanted everyone to be together, your family. Is that right?’

  He didn’t respond but she saw his jaw twitch and his lips thin as though he’d seal them up if he could. And she saw how his fingers sought his wedding ring, no longer there – it had been confiscated with the rest of his belongings, a white band marking where it had been.

  ‘But at the moment your boys are on their own, not with you or their mum or their big sister.’

  A tremor passed over his face and she watched his Adam’s apple move. She sensed he was uncomfortable and knew she had to be very careful not to alienate him. ‘It might be difficult to talk about these things, Mr Cottam, but everything I have heard about you tells me you were a family man, a good father. I think a good father would want to see his family reunited. Where are they? Tell me where they are and we can get someone to go and fetch them.’

  His mouth worked and she thought he was about to speak then, but instead he cleared his throat and shifted position.

  ‘This – everything that’s happened over the last three days,’ Janet said, ‘I don’t think you wanted anyone to suffer. Am I right about that?’ Silence. ‘But what if the boys are suffering now? You can help us put an end to that. Will you do that? Will you help them?’

  ‘It’s too late,’ he said brusquely. Then he glared at her, pent-up energy leaking out. ‘Too late.’

  ‘If that is the case,’ Janet said, ‘let me fetch them back. They should be with the rest of the family. This isn’t what you want for them, is it?’

  He didn’t answer. Janet waited for a moment, then decided to deal in some hard facts. If Cottam would not speak, she would have to keep going.

  ‘The day before yesterday you bought nappies for Theo and Harry, you bought food and drink and Calpol. What was the Calpol for? Was one of them poorly? Margaret says Theo gets earaches, is that right?’

  He squirmed, that was the only word for it, and colour flushed his neck and cheeks. He did not like the new tack she was taking. Janet carried on, alert to the risk that she’d take a step too far and he’d shut down on her completely. ‘That was just after eight o’clock in the morning. Theo and Harry were alive then and you were looking after them, making sure they were fed and clean. What happened after that?’

  He remained silent.

  ‘I know you left your car at Gallows Wood and I know you stole a vehicle close to there, a red Hyundai which you drove to B&Q yesterday to buy the rope
and some bin bags. What were the bin bags for?’

  He swallowed but didn’t speak.

  ‘You can still be a good father. A decent man. You can do this for your own father, for Pamela’s mother. For your boys.’

  He closed his eyes. A refusal. Janet felt a flood of impatience, felt too hot, itchy in her skin. All of which she had to conceal. ‘Talk to me,’ she said simply. ‘Tell me about yesterday. Where did you leave Theo and Harry?’

  The silence went on and on. Janet sat, her body as relaxed as she could make it, her eyes on him.

  Silence isn’t golden. Not in an interview room. It’s oppressive. The silence seems to gain in weight as the seconds tick by. Janet sat it out, aware of the rhythm of her breathing, the smell of Cottam’s pungent male sweat reaching her. Darker and stronger than the talcum powder scent the lawyer gave off.

  Janet watched Cottam and was disconcerted to see his tension gradually ease off, his hands relax. He scratched at his throat and closed his eyes. She was losing him. It was going to be a very long day.

  18

  Every item of interest from every path of the investigation was fed into the HOLMES database. At the click of a mouse, Gill could call up forensic details, witness statements, crime scene photographs, biographical information on any of the victims. The pool of information grew by the hour. As SIO she was the one person expected to have a complete overview. And to develop new lines of investigation as a result of studying the disparate elements.

  Cottam’s assertion that his children would have drowned prompted Gill to plan a new strategy for the hunt. Lundfell and the Porlow retail park were taken as two fixed points to delineate a search area of some fifty miles diameter. Until one looked at an aerial view it was hard to imagine how many stretches of open water littered the landscape. In that zone alone there was a reservoir, a river with tributaries, a canal and two lakes as well as numerous smaller meres and streams. Gill did not have unlimited resources, even given what was at stake, and could not dispatch underwater search teams to all those locations.

  In consultation with the POLSA, Mark Tovey, a police search adviser, she set out to establish an order of priority. Which sites were easiest to access from a vehicle? As they had no link for Cottam to the immediate area and he had not used his phone at all, they had to assume that he had found a site by chance, spotting something as he drove, or from a road atlas (a copy had been recovered from the Mondeo and there was one listed by Mr Wesley in the contents of the Hyundai – now so much ash).

  The reservoir was secured by high, locked gates and monitored by CCTV so they ruled that out. Of the two lakes one was part of a country house estate, now used as a wedding and exhibition venue and not open to the public. The other, Kittle Lake, was a popular beauty spot. The river and canal were more problematic, with multiple access points at road bridges and in Porlow country park, and webbed with a network of public footpaths and bridleways.

  ‘At best it would be a scattergun approach,’ Mark Tovey said. ‘A body of water the size of that lake alone could take several days to cover. Meanwhile, if the bodies are in the river they’re getting moved downstream. We’re dealing with small bodies too, so that’s an additional factor to consider.’

  Gill understood. ‘Harder to find. I’m not interested in a PR exercise,’ she said. ‘I’d rather hang fire and use you wisely. And all we’ve got to go on is his claim that they’ve drowned. He’s refusing to back it up with anything at all.’

  ‘What about forensics from the cars or his clothing?’ Tovey said.

  ‘Working on it. The Hyundai’s likely to give us less than we might have hoped for because of the fire. I’ve been promised results on the Mondeo today. Cottam’s footwear and clothing are being fast-tracked now.’ Gill had got the forensics lab to pull out all the stops, which meant paying extra, but if anything could tell them where he had come from to the retail park, his shoes were probably the best bet. ‘Soon as I get anything on that, we’ll look at this again, yes?’

  He agreed.

  She saw him out, then turned back to look over the map. An area of almost two thousand square miles. There have to be some clues somewhere, she thought. We’ve got to find them.

  Everything was in the system but now it was a waiting game.

  Cottam was taking his statutory break and Gill had pulled together the team for updates. ‘Gallows Wood gave us nothing, except the Mondeo,’ Gill said. ‘No sign he even entered the wood itself. We have increased patrols and we are repeating the appeal to the public throughout the Lancashire area to look in their garages and outhouses.’

  ‘When he took the car it was low on petrol. He didn’t fill up anywhere,’ Mitch said.

  ‘That we know of,’ said Kevin.

  ‘There are only four petrol stations in the area,’ Gill told them, ‘and all have been visited and alerted. So, yes, it’s more likely he kept his mileage low. Holed up somewhere like he did on the first night. Nevertheless, we are keeping the net wide in terms of public assistance. Today is day four, over forty-eight hours since the children were seen by Rahid. Forty-eight hours since he bought provisions. Janet’s just gone three rounds with him. He’s been less than cooperative, yes?’

  ‘He’s implied repeatedly that the children are dead,’ Janet said, ‘and that they drowned, but I’m interested in how he put it. The first time he said They’ll be dead, and the second Not if they’re drowned. Conditional. He was not making a definite statement.’

  ‘It means the same thing, though,’ Rachel said.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Janet said. ‘I think they might still be alive and he’s stalling because he doesn’t want us to find them. He doesn’t want us to save them.’

  ‘But the bin bags,’ Rachel said. ‘Whether he’s killed them by drowning or strangled them with the missing shoelace or whatever, the bin bags point to him having something to get rid of.’

  ‘If they are still alive he might have been planning to drown them,’ Pete said. ‘Drown them in the bags like you would kittens.’

  ‘Isn’t it usually sacks?’ Mitch said.

  ‘Water wouldn’t fill a bin bag as quickly,’ Andy agreed.

  ‘Suppose it’d still do the job,’ Rachel said, ‘if you weighed it down with a brick or stones or whatever, tied it up, chucked it in. Maybe the air runs out before it fills with water. Either way the job’s done and it’ll take months for the bin bag to rot so no nasty surprises for a while.’ Rachel pragmatic as ever, Gill thought.

  ‘He’s not worried about surprises,’ Janet said. ‘He’s not been trying to escape detection. He didn’t expect to be around much longer anyway so he’s not been planning long term.’

  ‘Okay,’ Gill said, ‘we’re speculating. We don’t know if the drowning is fact or fiction but it’s all he’s given us. If it is, or was, his intention and if he’s remained in the area as we think, these are the places where he might accomplish it.’ Andy pulled up a satellite view of the area. ‘We’ve ruled out Lundfell Reservoir and the smaller lake at Groby Hall House. That leaves Kittle Lake in the west, the River Douglas near Wigan in the east, and the Leeds & Liverpool Canal. Several small meres in the north.’

  Gill heard the various sighs and murmurs from the team as they reacted to the sheer scale of potential crime sites. ‘I’m in touch with a POLSA. Until we narrow it down, I can’t call out fire service search and rescue,’ she said, ‘but if we reach a point where we can focus our energies that’s what I intend to do.’

  ‘But the rope,’ Rachel said. ‘The rope must be so he could string himself up.’

  ‘Or to tie up the bags—’ Kevin began.

  ‘No, listen,’ Rachel interrupted. ‘Everyone’s saying that he wants to die and he wants to take the family with him. So we want trees, don’t we, or something else with some height.’

  Gill almost reprimanded Rachel for barging in but the point she was making was valid, so she let her continue.

  ‘And I bet he’ll want them to be together, the three of t
hem, so he’ll do it next to the kids if they’re dead already, drowned or whatever. If they’re alive he’ll hang them with him.’

  ‘Not easy to hang a child, not enough weight,’ Mitch said. His army experience had given him a breadth of knowledge beyond that gained in the police.

  ‘We know that; he might not,’ Rachel said. ‘All this talk of drowning – I think he’s trying to throw us off the scent. We fart around in wet suits and the kids are in some forest somewhere. It’s bollocks.’

  ‘I’ll be the judge of that, DC Bailey,’ Gill said, irritated that Rachel dared to criticize her strategy. ‘Janet, you and Lee go prep for your next interview. The rest of you, actions as follows: Pete talk to Dennis and Barry Cottam – any link, however slim, to the area. Rachel – same with Margaret Milne and Lynn. Mitch, work with Andy on any sightings, timeline, CCTV, ANPR. Go.’

  Rachel had been sent to ask Margaret Milne and Lynn about the location. Any ties they could think of. Pete was asking the same questions of Dennis and Barry Cottam. Rachel thought it should have been the other way round, since she had already met the Cottams and continuity was always thought to be an advantage in liaison with the families and victims. But given that Godzilla still had her on the naughty step she wasn’t going to quibble.

  She had briefed herself before driving over, read through Janet’s report on the Margaret Milne interview, revisited what Lynn had told them.

  Lynn’s house was in Moston, north Manchester. A council house but in one of the better parts of the area where the tenants were more likely to be in work and some had exercised their right to buy and set up home watch schemes and the like. Red-brick semis, three bedrooms and a garden.

  One of Lynn’s teenage lads answered the door, nodded at her request to see Lynn, moved to fetch her, then appeared to think better of leaving Rachel on the doorstep and invited her in. She could smell pizza or something similar and her stomach growled with hunger.

  Lynn, a scrawny black woman, came through from the kitchen at the back, wiping her hands on a tea towel.

  ‘Rachel Bailey.’ Rachel showed her warrant card. ‘Did the family liaison officer explain?’