‘We often lend things to one another. If my car needs to go to the garage, someone will drive there with me when I take it in and then bring me home afterwards. Then they’ll take me back to pick it up. We all do that for each other. If someone needs a car and there’s one not being used, we’ll use that one.’
‘That’s very neighbourly,’ Ruth observed. ‘Tell me, are you each insured to drive the cars you borrow?’
‘Of course,’ said Surtees. ‘We wouldn’t do anything illegal.’
‘And since you have a standing agreement to … car share,’ said Ruth, ‘you don’t specifically ask every time?’
‘No. It’s more an understanding. An open invitation.’
‘Tell me, Mr Surtees, did you borrow George Cotter’s car with his knowledge the night you abducted little Annie Snowdon?’
‘Don’t answer that,’ said Drinkwater.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Surtees exclaimed.
‘As I told you earlier, Mr Surtees, Tina Snowdon has positively identified you as the driver of the car she and her sister got into on the night her sister was abducted and she escaped. We already know that the car in question belonged to George Cotter. So the question is quite straightforward: did Mr Cotter know you had his car that night, or did you take it under the spirit of your understanding?’
Surtees’ mouth worked but no sound came out. He undid the top button on his shirt, then undid the cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.
‘My client has no comment to make,’ said Drinkwater.
‘Was it you who arranged for the young people of the church to clean the car afterwards?’ Ruth asked.
Surtees looked at Drinkwater, who prompted him. ‘No comment,’ Drinkwater said, and Surtees echoed the words like a parrot.
‘What did you do with Annie Snowdon after you abducted her, Mr Surtees?’
‘No comment.’
‘Is Annie Snowdon still alive, or did you murder her?’
‘No comment.’
‘George Cotter told us that he had disposed of Annie’s body in the North Sea. He told us that he had thrown it into the water from the pier head. George Cotter lied when he told us that. Did you tell him to lie, Mr Surtees? Was he acting on your instructions when he falsely confessed to her abduction and murder?’
‘No comment.’
‘Oh come on, Mr Surtees!’ Ruth’s voice had been getting steadily louder and she was shouting now. ‘You took that little girl away from her family. What did you do to her? Did you rape her? Did you murder her? Did you wrap her body in a sheet of plastic and bury her in the woods? What did you do with Annie Snowdon, Mr Surtees? Where is she?’
‘I didn’t rape her!’
‘Then what did you do to her?’ Ruth slid the picture of eight-year-old Annie Snowdon over the table to Surtees. ‘What did you do to her, Mr Surtees?’
‘I … I …’ Surtees looked close to tears. He put his hand to his throat and grasped the crucifix he wore around his neck.
Drinkwater butted in. ‘When my client says he didn’t rape Annie Snowdon, he means that he could not have done that because he is not responsible for her disappearance. Isn’t that right, Mr Surtees?’
Drinkwater looked at Surtees. Surtees muttered a faint, ‘No comment.’
‘Mr Surtees, we asked a police artist to look at that same photograph you have in front of you now and to give us his impression of what Annie might look like now. She’ll be seventeen, if she’s still alive.’ Ruth slid the artist’s drawing over the table towards Surtees. It had seemed to make an impression on him earlier; she was hoping it would have a similar effect now. ‘Is that what she looks like, Mr Surtees?’
Surtees looked at it, recognition on his face.
‘Mr Surtees? Please answer the question.’
‘What question?’
‘Is that what Annie Snowdon looks like now?’
Surtees looked at Drinkwater, who waved a warning finger in front of his mouth. He looked at Ruth, held her gaze for what seemed like a long time. Then he spoke. ‘No comment,’ he said.
***
‘I swear to God, I’ll bloody swing for him,’ Ruth exclaimed later, in Hardcastle’s office.
‘Bloody Drinkwater! Why did it have to be him?’ Winter shared her exasperation.
‘The “No Comment Kid”,’ said Hardcastle. ‘Bloody bad luck.’ He yawned and looked at his watch. ‘Look folks, it’s getting late. Let’s call it a night. Go home, get some sleep. We’ll see just how chipper Surtees is after a night in the cells.’ He grinned. ‘There was a stag party down from Glasgow. They’re steaming and they’ve been fighting, half a dozen of them are now Mr Surtees’ neighbours in the cell block. I’m sure he’ll have a lovely night with that lot shouting, swearing, and throwing up. What with that and one of Sweaty Betty’s breakfasts in the morning, he’ll be a broken man when you next get him in the interview room.’
‘I’ll take whatever advantage I can get, sir,’ said Ruth.
Ruth Crinson and Rob Winter headed out to the car park. ‘Fancy a curry?’ Rob suggested.
Ruth nodded. ‘Good call,’ she said. ‘The one on the sea front?’
‘See you there.’
They each jumped in their car and headed off to their chosen restaurant. Ruth was glad Rob hadn’t suggested car sharing: she welcomed a few moments in her own space to sort her thoughts out. Surtees was guilty, of that she had no doubt. It choked her that Tina Snowdon was locked up when the likes of John Surtees and George Cotter enjoyed their freedom. She was equally convinced that Cotter was involved somehow, as were Barbara Neville and the young people of the church. They’re like the Midwich bloody cuckoos, she thought, they seem to communicate almost telepathically. She thought back to the search they had conducted of the church and the buildings and made a mental note to have a word with Webb to see if he had traced any property held in the name of Surtees or the church. She parked up on the sea front opposite the restaurant, pulled her car in behind Rob Winter’s and got out. She stretched as Rob got out of his car and joined her.
‘Slowcoach,’ Rob teased, grinning.
‘Don’t tell me, last one here picks up the tab.’
They headed over to the restaurant and were looking at menus and sipping on lager in the bar area prior to placing their order and being shown to their table. ‘Last time I was here was with Karen,’ Ruth told Rob. ‘It was just after she and Jimmy had split up. She was gutted. Even though she knew he was unhappy about the amount of time the job took, she had thought they were sound. Hit her like a ton of bricks when she found out about the affair.’
‘It was the same for me and Diane,’ Rob said. ‘Not that we were married, but I thought she was the one.’ The waiter came over to take their order.
‘How long ago was that,’ Ruth asked, when he left. ‘You and Diane?’
‘Been two years since she left. She married a fitness instructor from Spring’s gym, bought a house on Dene estate.’
‘Can you think of any one of us in this job who’s managed to hold a relationship together? Because I can’t.’
Rob shook his head. ‘It takes its toll, that’s for sure.’
Later, as they were mopping up the last of the curry sauce with naan bread, Ruth spoke. ‘Quick, look out of the window,’ she said to Rob. ‘Isn’t that Charlie Gray with one of the young lasses from the church?’
‘Bloody hell, you’re right! What’s her name … Helen …?’
‘Elaine. I remember her from the search we did.’
‘Right, Elaine. Well, a cosy little chat with our PC Gray has got to be pretty high on our “to do” list tomorrow, eh?’
***
‘Hello, Tina.’
Tina froze, her fingers gripping the edge of her tray of food, when she heard Leanne’s voice behind her. She had known the time would come when she would have to face her, but hadn’t been looking forward to it. She took her time, counted to ten, then turned around.
‘Leanne. How are you?’ Her voic
e cracked slightly and she cursed inwardly for showing weakness.
‘It’s not like the YOI, is it? I miss Mother Mary Mac and her fussing.’
Tina smiled, ever so slightly. ‘Yeah, me too. She drove me crazy sometimes, but—’
‘Have you missed me?’ Leanne asked.
Tina blinked. ‘Maybe a little bit,’ she said honestly. ‘But not so much that I’d want to turn the clock back.’
‘I’m hurt,’ said Leanne, making a duck face.
‘Tina, love. We’re over here.’
Tina looked to see Jackie waving to her. ‘I have to go,’ she told Leanne. ‘My friends are waiting for me.’ She was turning to walk away, relieved to have been thrown a lifeline and to have got through that first encounter relatively painlessly, when Leanne darted in front of her and barred her way. She stroked Tina’s hair, the younger woman unable to stop her, her hands full with the tray of food.
‘I want you back,’ she told her.
Tina stepped back, away from Leanne. ‘No,’ she said, as she skirted around her and made her way to the table where Jackie was waiting. She barely made out Leanne’s whispered, ‘Yes’, as she sat down and started unloading the dishes from her tray.
***
PC Charlie Gray was in Hardcastle’s office and he was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. Hardcastle was sitting on the other side of the desk and was looking at him as though he was some sort of pond life. Hardcastle had been sitting looking at Gray like that for what was probably less than a minute, but which felt like a very long time.
‘So, PC Gray,’ Hardcastle said at last, ‘let me get this straight. You are in a relationship with Elaine Telford, who is a member of the Young People’s Fellowship at the Ebenezer Tabernacle.’
‘Yes, sir. I met her when we—’
‘When we searched the buildings and grounds of the church, looking for six missing children and one missing police officer.’
‘Sir, she has nothing to do with tha—’
‘So while your colleagues were searching the premises, focusing on doing their jobs, you were chatting up this young woman?’
‘No. Sir, it wasn’t like that.’
‘What was it like, PC Gray? I suggest you tell me, and make it good, because I am more angry than I can remember being in a very long time.’
Gray looked at Hardcastle. His anger was cold, controlled, but it was there. Gray swallowed. ‘Elaine and I are old friends, although we hadn’t seen each other in ages. A few days after the search she called me and suggested we meet up. We did, and then met a second time last night.’
‘She rang you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Out of the blue?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And that didn’t start any alarm bells ringing?’
‘What? No. As I said, we’re old friends, it seemed natural and since nothing had been found to incriminate anyone, I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong.’
‘You are very naïve, son, very naïve.’ Hardcastle ran his hand over his chin. ‘Wait a minute. Old friends? Where and when do you know each other from?’
‘Elaine used to go to my church. Then, a couple of years ago, she saw Jason Christopher give testament at a rally, and that was it. She went to the Ebenezer Tabernacle from that day on. She had a …’ Gray looked down at his hands.
‘A what, son?’
Gray looked up. ‘A revelation. She was saved at that rally. She told me she realised that beforehand she must have just been going through the motions, that her experience at the rally made her realise what true salvation felt like.’
Hardcastle felt the corners of his mouth twitch and fought to control it. ‘And what did you make of that?’
‘Well, she was keen to persuade me to go to the Tabernacle, too.’
‘And did you?’
Gray shook his head. ‘I went along to a rally, but I wasn’t as impressed with Jason Christopher as she had been.’ He flicked a glance at Hardcastle. ‘I also didn’t consider my own religious experiences and beliefs to be bogus. I wasn’t saved at the rally. I didn’t need to be. My faith was, and is, genuine and robust.’
‘Did you tell Elaine that?’
‘Yes, I did.’
‘And how did she react?’
‘She said she pitied me, because I wasn’t truly a Christian. I hadn’t been saved, born again in the Spirit. We rowed about it.’
Hardcastle could only imagine the vehemence on both sides in a row like that. ‘And?’
‘And she continued to go to the Tabernacle, and I continued to go to the Chapel.’
‘So you lost touch?’
Gray nodded.
‘And then you just happened to see her as a result of the investigation?’
‘Yes. When we searched the church, she was there.’
Hardcastle couldn’t shake the feeling he was missing something. He scratched his head. Was he being side tracked by the issue of Gray and his relationship with the girl from the church? Did it matter as much as he, Crinson and Winter had originally thought it did? Gray seemed like a decent enough lad, once you put all the religious stuff to one side. There was something else, though, niggling away in the background. It came to him, and he nodded. ‘Charlie,’ he said, ‘who’s this Jason Christopher character?’
***
‘It just seems a shame if we can’t even be friends,’ Leanne said. ‘After all, we were far more than that not so long ago.’
Tina stood in the doorway of her cell, not wanting to let Leanne in. Leanne stroked Tina’s cheek with the back of her index finger, a familiar gesture that brought a pang of longing and a stab of loneliness. ‘I know every inch of you,’ Leanne continued. Tina met her gaze and was surprised to see tears in the older girl’s eyes. ‘I’ve missed you.’
‘You said some nasty things.’ Tina took a step back to break the contact between them. ‘You hurt me.’
Leanne wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands. ‘I was hurt too. I was confused. I … I’m sorry. If I could turn back time, I would.’
Tina considered what she was hearing. She almost believed Leanne. Almost, but not quite.
‘I’m sorry, Lea, I can’t cope with this. I want you to go away. Keep your distance. If you’re telling the truth about how you feel, you’ll do that for me.’
Leanne met Tina’s eyes, then looked down at the floor. ‘Okay, then, if that’s what you want.’ She flicked a glance at Tina. ‘I really am sorry, though.’
Tina nodded and Leanne walked away slowly. As soon as she heard Tina’s door close, she speeded up, allowed herself a satisfied little smile. She had seen the chinks in Tina’s armour, knew she was still a soft-hearted girl. Just a matter of time, she thought to herself, just a matter of time.
***
‘Tell them what you just told me.’ Hardcastle sat back in his chair and Gray spoke to Winter and Crinson.
‘I was telling DSI Hardcastle about Jason Christopher, the Young People’s Fellowship leader at the Tabernacle.’
Crinson looked at Winter. ‘Have you heard of him before? I don’t remember his name coming up.’
‘I understand he’s on retreat,’ said Gray. ‘He hasn’t been at the church for a while.’
‘Who is he?’
‘He’s the leader of the young people. It was Jason who built the fellowship up from just a handful to what it is now.’
‘When was this?’
‘He’s been at the church for maybe ten years. He was just a teenager when he started out there. He worked miracles.’
‘How?’
‘He used to go round Youth Clubs in the area and give testimony. Sometimes he’d speak on street corners. He told people how it was he found Christ and was saved,’ Gray explained when he saw the blank looks he was getting. ‘He came across really well and it attracted people to the church.’
‘Then what?’
‘Then he got the idea of organising a rally. He was barely twenty, but he organised it all himself. Got a mar
quee on the cliff top at Seaburn Park, arranged guest speakers, put the word out—’
‘I think I remember that,’ said Rob Winter. ‘It was on a few times, wasn’t it? Every year or so.’
‘That evangelical tent thing? That was him?’ said Ruth.
Gray nodded. ‘It was very successful. A lot of people were saved. Not just youngsters, people of all ages.’
‘But Christopher’s interest was young people.’
‘That’s right. That was his main focus. He built the whole thing up from practically nothing.’ Gray shrugged. ‘Well, you’ve seen them now. They’re strong, organised … he did a great job.’
‘But you weren’t convinced.’
Gray looked at the backs of his hands, flexed his fingers. ‘He was a bit … showy for me. I liked the church I was at, I wasn’t looking to change.’
‘I still don’t understand how he didn’t surface earlier. He must have been around when we were looking at George Cotter, but I can’t remember even hearing his name.’
‘Me neither. And he wasn’t mentioned this time around, either. What’s this “on retreat” business anyway? Where is he?’
‘As far as I can tell, he’s in Northumberland somewhere.’
‘Aren’t retreats quite short? I mean, I thought a weekend or a week. He’s been gone for how long?’
‘It does seem unusual,’ said Gray. ‘But he might have got caught up in the work that was going on, or been frazzled by all the work he’s done.’
‘Or he could have been sent out of harm’s way because they didn’t want us questioning him or looking too closely at him,’ observed Hardcastle.
‘Oh, I don’t think—’ began Gray.
‘Because they’re Christians, and Christians are nice people,’ Hardcastle finished for him. He looked at the three people in his office. ‘I want him. Find him and bring him here.’
‘On what grounds, sir?’ asked Winter.
‘On the grounds that he’s a creepy little fucker who’s been hiding from us from day one. Start by interviewing Surtees again.’ Hardcastle snorted. ‘Although no doubt he’ll want Drinkwater in with him, so the chances of us getting anything out of him are pretty slim.’
Convictions Page 17