by Matt Hilton
Danny Korba was desperate to visit her, but had to make do with a brief telephone call, as it was impossible for him to travel up from London when he was carrying both his and Kerry’s workload. Kerry soothed his conscience, assuring him she needed him to stay put, and make sure the replacement DI didn’t get his feet under the table in GaOC — that was if she ever made it back, a point she didn’t raise with him. Besides, she told him, she was a mess and she didn’t want him seeing her with a face like a panda. His retort was unexpected: ‘Why not? You have to look at mine day in and day out, and I think I get the better end of the deal. You’re an incredibly good-looking woman, Kerry, and I’ll never tire of seeing you.’ It hurt to smile, but also felt good. As she had for her mother, she experienced a genuine pang of affection for her best friend, and a longing to see him too, and had to hang up quickly before she began weeping.
During her second night in hospital, the first after her surgery to fix her shattered forearm, she dreamed vividly of Erick Swain. He still wore the tie-dyed shirt and scruffy jeans, and his silver earring, but he’d lost the rigid cuff from his wrist. In her dream, Kerry was in the same hospital bed, her arm in a cast and an antibiotic drip fed intravenously through a cannula on her right wrist. He sneered at her from where he lounged in a visitor’s chair alongside her bed.
‘If you’re still set on rent-a-ghosting in and out of my life like this,’ she said, ‘the least you can do is be helpful. I still don’t know who the real Fell Man is or what he did with Sally. You promised to tell me…’
‘I told you to go home,’ he said. ‘It got you to where you needed to be.’
‘That was on me. It was my decision to come back.’
‘I nudged you into making the decision. Poked loose your childhood memories. I’d say I’ve paid my dues.’
She exhaled through her nostrils. ‘I see you’ve lost your handcuff. Does that mean you aren’t shackled to me anymore?’
He didn’t reply, only sneered.
‘So why are you here? If you’ve nothing to tell me and nothing to hold you here anymore, why show up at all?’
‘To luxuriate in your agony,’ he replied, but his sneer warmed a little. ‘No. I might just have mellowed in death. I came to thank you.’
‘For what? Clearing you of murdering the Ghedis doesn’t make you any less of a scumbag. We both know what you are, Swain. A killer.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘So what does that make you?’
By definition Kerry was a killer. ‘There’s a difference,’ she said. ‘I only killed Brandreth to survive.’
‘And I only killed who I did to survive,’ he countered. ‘The situation might’ve been different, but dead’s dead. If I hadn’t taken them out, they’d have done the same to me.’
She shook her head. Even in her dream her skull pulsated with the effort. ‘You killed out of greed. For control. For the thrill of it.’
‘When you went to that old dump of a house, you wanted something. You were greedy for it, or you’d have taken other coppers with you. You wanted to control the situation to your liking. And, tell the truth, Kezza, when you slapped Brandreth in the skull with that spade, you got a little tingle down in your lady parts, didn’t you?’
Her tongue felt like damp cotton wool. ‘You might have mellowed, but you’re as vulgar as ever.’
‘Yep. There’s no changing a leopard’s spots.’
‘Actually, there is. You said you came here to thank me. I didn’t expect that from you.’
‘I’m not a total wanker. I paid my dues, but I also give credit where it’s due, Kezza. I came to thank you for setting the ball rolling with Robson.’ He winked grandiosely.
‘What do you mean?’
He snorted. Then leaned forward. ‘Ask Adam.’
‘Ask him what?’
‘Don’t act naïve, Kezza. Cell doors don’t get left unlocked all by themselves.’ He winked once more, flicked her a salute of gratitude and was gone.
She woke, and wondered if she’d even been asleep because there was no difference between the two. Feeling sick to the stomach, she groped for the telephone next to her bed to ring Adam.
‘Kerry? You’re awake. It’s the middle of the night. Doesn’t matter. How are you, love?’ By the sound of his slur, he’d woken from sleep too.
‘What did you do, Adam?’
‘Uh, what? I’ve booked a train for tomorrow. I’m going to come up and collect you.’
‘What happened with Jermaine Robson?’
‘Oh, right. Him.’
‘He died, didn’t he?’ She didn’t need confirmation, because Robson’s death was the only thing that could have released Erick Swain from the shackle that held him here. Despite the evidence to the contrary, she’d tried to convince herself his latest visitation was a dream, but had to accept she was wrong. She would also lay a bet on Robson’s time of death: it would coincide with when Swain dropped out of existence sometime after he spoke with her the other morning in the B&B, the reason he’d been absent the entire time she’d been at Brandreth House.
‘Yes.’ Adam didn’t expound at first. He was being guarded. After all, his fiancée was a detective inspector…correction, his ex-fiancée.
‘What happened?’
‘Uh, well, nobody knows how for sure. Somehow his cell door came unlocked, and a couple of Swain’s boys got in with him. They had shivs.’
‘Somehow a cell door is left unlocked in a high security wing?’
‘It was a mechanical failure, not human error. It happens. Besides, you told me that you’d never be free of Swain until Robson died. You should be relieved things have been taken out of your hands.’ He audibly swallowed. ‘Last time we spoke, I offered to make things better, and you said you hoped so. Remember?’
Kerry closed her eyes and groaned.
‘He has gone,’ said Adam. ‘Swain. He’s gone for good now?’
‘I…yes, I think he’s gone.’
‘Good. Yes, that’s good. Kerry…I didn’t believe he was real before, but now…well, let’s just say he got what he asked for, so won’t trouble you any more. He isn’t in our way anymore. Look,’ Adam went on, ‘I’m getting the first train up in the morning. I’ll be with you before noon.’
‘Don’t.’
‘I’ve already got your stuff from the hotel and brought back your car to the house. Once I get you home, everything will be all right. You said we could try again…’
‘No, Adam. No. We can’t.’ She hung up.
He got the message loud and clear. Adam didn’t arrive on the morning train, but DCI Charles Porter did. It was inevitable, she supposed. She was only surprised he hadn’t arrived accompanied by Superintendent Graeme Harker, or another of his professional standards investigators. Her part in the killing of Carl Brandreth would have to be fully reviewed by Cumbria Constabulary, and the Met. She’d be the subject of an investigation by the Independent Police Complaints Commission too, and not forgetting the DPS. She was the focus of another media storm, and wherever there was a camera Porter didn’t like to miss a photo opportunity. She cringed when she heard him identifying himself to the security guard outside her door.
But when he entered her private room, he was more sanguine than the last time she’d seen him. He was dressed in casual clothing, and was the less imposing because of it. He smiled when he saw her awake, adjusted his spectacles and approached almost bashfully.
‘Hello, sir,’ she said.
‘We’re away from the office now, please…call me Charles.’
‘So you haven’t come to arrest me?’
He blinked in surprise. ‘I came as a concerned friend.’
‘Friends usually bring grapes and Lucozade.’
Again he blinked, and Kerry smiled. ‘I’m only joking, sir.’
‘Charles,’ he reiterated.
She didn’t feel comfortable calling him by his given name. She indicated the chair alongside her bed. ‘Please…sit down.’
He sat. Awkwar
dly. His viewpoint was lower than hers, not a position he chose to take whenever they’d spoken before. ‘So…?’
‘So.’ Kerry’s lips tightened.
‘I was going to ask how you’re feeling, but, well, I can see for myself.’
‘It looks worse than it is.’
‘Ever the martyr, aren’t you, Kerry?’
‘Joan of Arc has nothing on me.’ As soon as she made the quip, she grimaced. Recalling how Adam had used the saint as a metaphor for her behaviour, and reminding her that Joan was burned at the stake. ‘Actually, I’m not going to lie. I feel bloody awful.’
‘Not surprisingly.’ He chuckled politely. ‘It was quite an ordeal you went through.’
‘Aye, you can say that again. Who’d have thought a little nostalgia trip would’ve turned into such a nightmare?’
He studied her swollen face, and her eyes in particular. For once he didn’t appear perturbed by her mismatched colouring. But then her paler eye was much darker than normal with pooled blood. ‘You and I both know it was nothing of the sort. Even our colleagues here don’t buy your story about visiting your childhood haunts, and stumbling across the abducted girl. But to be honest, Kerry, nobody cares. You saved a child and stopped a monster. That’s what matters most.’ He stared between his knees, twining his fingers together. ‘I don’t care where your information came from, none of it anymore. Sandy, uh, Superintendent Tinsley reminded me that it’s the result that matters, and, well, I have to concur. You’re one hell of a detective, Kerry, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to admit it. I want you to know you’ll be welcomed back to GaOC when you’re ready.’
‘So you’re denying my request for transfer again?’ she asked.
‘The transfer to Homicide and Major Crime we talked about? I’d rather not lose you to them, Kerry.’
‘I’ve already withdrawn that transfer request. I’m talking about the nationwide taskforce being formed to investigate the Fell Man case. I want to be part of it, sir. I want to help dismantle the paedophile snuff ring the bastard supplies to. I want to catch him.’
‘It’s a National Crime Agency case now, Kerry. Their cyber crime teams are on it, and it’s already apparent that the offenders are spread worldwide. You’re a talented officer, and yes, you were instrumental in saving Courtney Bell and stopping Carl Brandreth, not to mention uncovering the remains of his previous victims…but this isn’t a case you can help further with.’
‘But I have a clear link to him…the original Fell Man.’
‘I’m sorry, Kerry, and sympathise with you. But a transfer’s not something I can grant, and it’s not something I’m sure I would if I was able. Besides, don’t you think it’s best to keep the Fell Man case at arm’s length, before it consumes you again?’
She breathed out. Arguing the toss with him then wouldn’t be helpful. She was disappointed, but while she still had access to the formidable investigative resources of the Met, she’d take it…and nothing would stop her conducting an unofficial investigation if it came to it. Besides, she wouldn’t be consumed again: she was already consumed by the need to discover who the bearded Fell Man was, and bring him and those he worked on behalf of to justice. She was still consumed by the need to find Sally, and also to bring eternal rest to Girl. ‘I’ll be back at work as soon as I’m given the all clear,’ she promised, and for emphasis hitched her broken arm in its sling. ‘But speaking of keeping things at arm’s length, well, Danny might have to carry on steering the ship a little longer.’
He chuckled at her weak joke, before realising she was staring at a point behind his right shoulder. He struggled to avoid looking for whom she aimed a victorious smile and nod at, and instead flapped a hand at an annoying moth that kept beating its wings on the back of his neck.
Thanks
I’m indebted to Luigi Bonomi, Alison Bonomi, William Massey, Mike Craven, Tony Forder and Karen Ratcliffe for their guidance and feedback. Without their input this book would be a very different read, and poorer for it. Also, thanks to the real Alexandra Tinsley for allowing me to use her name in this book.
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