‘No, Lucy’s fine. She wants to come and see you the minute you’ve had the baby – so be warned.’
Becky smiled. ‘She will be very welcome. Now, a couple of things. I had thought about calling you, but I decided to leave it until tomorrow.’
‘Go on,’ Tom said. ‘I’m not doing anything else useful.’
Becky repeated all she had learned about the woman found on the golf course. ‘You were right about her name too. It was Williams.’
‘Oh well, good to know I don’t have too bad a memory.’
‘The thing is, Tom, it sounds like there’s quite a bit of similarity between the woman who befriended the golf-course victim and the one our Penny – sorry, Jasmine – was seen with a couple of times.’
‘What did she look like?’ Tom asked abruptly.
‘She was quite an elderly lady, apparently, with long silver-grey hair, sometimes tied back. Quite elegant, they said. Wonderful bone structure, another one said. Why? You sounded almost excited then.’
‘Hang on, Becky. I’m going to make a call on my personal mobile. Stay with me.’
Becky could only just hear his voice, but not what he said or who he was talking to. He must have put his phone down and walked away. All she heard was one word.
‘Shit.’
As soon as Tom heard Becky’s description of the woman who had been seen talking to the two supposed suicide victims, he knew he had to get hold of Jack and Nathan urgently.
Dorothea Atwell had been on the mindfulness retreat with Hannah, and Hannah had said that the wonderful woman she had met was going to be holidaying on a boat on the Irrawaddy in January. Thea Atwell was on that boat, and now a woman of a similar age was linked to both of the dead women. There was nothing to tie her to Hannah’s disappearance, so it could be a coincidence, but Jack was right – Tom didn’t believe in them. Jack and Nathan could be walking into something they didn’t understand.
He called Nathan straight away. ‘Did this Dorothea or Thea woman have long silver-grey hair and beautiful bone structure,’ he said without preamble.
‘Definitely the hair. Can’t comment on the bone structure. Why, Tom? What’s—’
The phone went dead in Tom’s hand. ‘Shit!’
He picked up his other phone. ‘Becky, I’ll call you back. Don’t go anywhere. I need to speak to someone.’
He hung up and sat staring at his mobile. Why the hell had his conversation been cut short? He tried again, but it didn’t connect.
Tom was about to call Becky back when his personal mobile rang again.
‘What happened? Why did we get cut off?’
‘I’ll put Jack on,’ Nathan said.
‘Tom, there’s something weird going on. We’re outside the house. We came up with a plan, and we were heading up the drive while Nathan was talking to you and his mobile went dead. So did mine. I think there’s a signal jammer operating.’
‘Maybe just a dead patch. Why would you think it’s a jammer?’
There was a small sigh. ‘I wrote an app for my phone. It pings when there’s a sudden loss of signal. It’s helpful to know if you’re walking into trouble.’
Tom said nothing. There was nothing to say.
‘I’ve tried walking up the drive a couple of times and it pings each time. There’s a full signal at the gate and then nothing. It’s more than a dead spot – I’ve moved around a bit to check it out. I’m telling you, it’s a jammer. Now why would an elderly couple do that? How would they know how to do that?’
‘What’s the address?’
Jack told him, and Tom scribbled it down while speaking quickly to his brother, hoping that for once he would listen.
‘I want you both to stay out of there. Seriously, I think there’s more to this than we already know, and if I’m right, I don’t want you to alert anyone. Can you do that?’
‘I suppose so. The house looks quiet. No lights on anywhere. Even though it’s not fully dark yet, I would have expected a few lamps on at least. Maybe they’re out.’
‘Well keep well away from the entrance, in case they come back and find you two skulking around in the undergrowth. Understood?’
‘Okay, okay. And I promise not to break in.’
Tom sighed with exasperation and Jack laughed.
‘Oh, and as we were driving here I accessed iMessage on Hannah’s laptop and found an interesting text she’d sent to her employers. I’ll forward it to you. Make of it what you will.’
Tom hung up and called Becky. She picked up straight away.
‘I want you to find out everything you can about a Dorothea and Garrick Atwell. Husband and wife.’ He passed on the address in south Manchester that Jack had given him.
‘Okay. Are you going to tell me what’s going on?’
‘I can’t right now. I have to do a bit of thinking about how to deal with this. But there is something about them that warrants a look. And I think Nathan Gardner’s sister – the one I told you had gone missing – is involved too. It may all be perfectly innocent, but I need to decide how to play it.’
Tom couldn’t tell her everything he knew until he had worked out how to square the fact that some of the information had come via Jack. He didn’t want Becky embroiled in this as well.
‘I’m on it. Before I go, do you want to know how things are looking with the Callie Baldwin and Ian Fullerton case? She’s disappeared without trace – no phone, credit card usage, or cash withdrawals. Everything’s been checked, and there’s been a press campaign with her face plastered everywhere. But don’t worry about that now; it sounds like you have more important things on your plate.’
The forwarded text from Hannah’s messages had come through as Becky was speaking, and for a moment Tom was distracted.
‘What names did you say?’ he asked sharply.
‘Just now? Caroline Baldwin and Ian Fullerton.’
‘You didn’t say Caroline, though, did you?’
‘Sorry, boss. She goes by the name of Callie.’
Tom closed his eyes and focused. What had Nathan said? Something about there being only one single woman on the boat from this part of the world. And her name was Callie. He rushed over to Jack’s laptop, which was still open at the passenger list. And there it was: Caroline Baldwin, who Becky said was better known as Callie.
And nobody knew where she was.
59
Tom was struggling to get his head round everything that had come to light in the last few hours. More importantly, he was trying to work out whether the information that had come to him legally – via Becky – was sufficient for him to make a move.
Becky had established that an elderly woman with long grey hair was known to both dead girls – Jasmine, and the one found on the golf course. But Tom had only been able to match that description to Dorothea Atwell because of Nathan and the hacked records.
Becky had also confirmed that there was no trace of Callie Baldwin. Once again, if Jack hadn’t accessed the passenger list from the boat, there was nothing to link her – officially – to Thea Atwell.
Tom knew what he should do: register Jack’s hacked information as intelligence without declaring its source, so it could be checked for reliability. Then an application could be made for a court order so he could officially obtain the information he needed from the travel companies. But it would take too long.
A thought occurred to him. Becky had said there had been extensive press coverage in the attempt to find Callie Baldwin. But Nathan knew her – he had met her.
He quickly dialled Nathan’s number again, hoping that he and Jack had stayed outside the Atwells’ grounds.
‘What can I do for you, Tom?’
‘That Callie woman you talked about. Did she have anything to do with Thea or Garrick Atwell when you were all on the boat?’
‘Anything to do with them? They practically lived in each other’s pockets! I tried to get Callie alone a few times – like I said, I thought she could have been the one who met Hannah and might know where
she had taken herself off to – but Thea bit my bloody head off whenever I went near her. She was so protective. I’d have found it claustrophobic if I’d been Callie. Thea seemed to revel in the role of being the understanding older woman, and Callie fell under her spell.’
There might just be a solution here that Tom could work with.
‘I can tell you this, Nathan, because it is all over the press in north Manchester. Callie Baldwin is missing.’
‘What the fuck?’
‘There’s more to it than that, but I can’t talk to you about the rest right now. I’m surprised you’ve not seen her picture on the news.’
‘I told you, I don’t watch TV much.’
Tom felt a flash of frustration. Nathan could have helped them solve this days ago.
‘Ask Jack to Google her. Check if the girl in the photo is the one who was on the boat and then get back to me. If they are the same, we can say the information that links Thea Atwell, Callie Baldwin and your sister Hannah has all come from you – legitimately.’
Tom hung up and waited, although he knew in advance what the response would be. Now all he had to decide was the most appropriate next step.
60
A few cars have come and gone since I arrived in the police station car park, but no one is taking any notice of me. There are cameras, and I wonder how long it will be before someone comes out and asks me why I’m sitting here. Maybe it would be easier to wait until that happens. It feels like less of a conscious decision.
It’s completely dark now, even though I can see from the clock on the dashboard that it is more late afternoon than early evening. The car park is well lit and that makes it worse. If I could have slunk into the station in the dark I would have felt less exposed, less vulnerable.
I’m just procrastinating – putting off the inevitable – and I decide finally that this is the moment. I’m going to get out of the car, go into the police station, tell them who I am and confess to what I have done.
I push open the car door and tell my feet to move. To travel, one in front of the other, to the entrance. It is so hard, and my guts are in knots.
I know that I look grubby and unkempt. I haven’t seen a comb or soap and water for a while now, and the police officer on the information desk probably thinks I’m a vagrant.
‘Can I help you?’ she asks pleasantly enough.
‘I think so,’ I say. My voice is so quiet that she puts her head on one side as if to hear better. ‘My name is Caroline Baldwin. I think you’re looking for me.’
Her eyes open slightly wider. ‘We are indeed,’ she says.
She stands up and turns to the officer on her left, speaking quietly. I can’t hear her; the only word I pick up is ‘detective’ before she turns back to me.
‘Would you mind coming with me, please? We’ll get you into a private room and someone will be along to speak to you.’
She flashes an access card at a reader on the wall and presses some keys on a silent keypad. I hear the locks go back and I walk through the door. It swings shut behind me with a heavy clunk, and I wonder if that is the last time I will walk freely and voluntarily through a door. I feel my body sway, and the police officer grabs my arm.
‘Are you okay?’ she asks. ‘No, clearly not. You’re very pale, and I can feel you’re shaking. Let’s get you sat down.’
She leads me into a small room, and I slump down in the nearest chair.
‘I’m going to leave you here for a few minutes while I get you something to drink. Tea, coffee, water?’
I shrug. ‘Anything,’ I say. It seems too big a decision.
‘Are you hungry? It’s okay. You don’t have to answer. I’ll bring you a sandwich.’
I don’t know why she is being so nice to me. I want to shout that I’m a murderer and I don’t deserve her concern. But walking into the police station has taken every ounce of energy I had, and my limbs feel weak and floppy.
She smiles at me and uses her card to get out of the room. The door closes behind her, and I hear it lock.
Tom had decided he should call Philippa Stanley and lay out the facts as he knew them, making Nathan the source of the information and leaving Jack out of it altogether. He was about to pick up his phone when it rang.
‘That was quick, Becky. What have you found out about the Atwells?’
‘Nothing yet. That’s not why I’m calling. I thought you should know that Callie Baldwin has just walked into divisional HQ.’
‘What? Bloody hell, that’s a turn-up. Right. I guess you’re on your way over there now to interview her. I know I’ve not been involved in the case, but she has links to the Atwell couple. I’m on my way to you, and I’ll call when I’m in the car to fill you in on what I know – or suspect.’ Tom was rushing around his kitchen, picking up his keys, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair, pushing his personal mobile into his pocket. ‘I’ve another call to make first. Go and see her, but hang fire on the questioning if you can. Okay?’
Becky agreed, but he could hear the puzzled note in her voice. He didn’t have time to explain and needed to speak to Jack.
He ran out to the car, jumped into the driving seat and threw his phones into the well in the central console, where they would automatically connect to the Bluetooth system.
As he reversed his car out of the drive, he tried Nathan’s number while at the same time working out the best route at this time of night from his home to divisional HQ on the opposite side of Manchester.
His call went straight to voicemail. For a moment Tom was irritated that Nathan might have switched his phone off; the next second he was furious. He would bet money that Jack and Nathan had ignored him and were somewhere in the grounds of the Atwell property. That was why Nathan wasn’t picking up, and he was sure Jack would be behind that decision.
‘You stupid, irresponsible idiot.’ Tom gripped the steering wheel tightly and fought the temptation to take his irritation out on his accelerator pedal. He was torn. Should he prioritise interviewing Callie Baldwin, who was safe in Becky’s hands, or should he stop his reckless brother from being arrested if, as Tom suspected, he would very soon be forced to send a team out to the property where Jack was illegally lurking?
He was about to swing onto the motorway, but at the last minute he carried on round the roundabout. He was nearer to the Atwell house, so he would have to leave Callie with Becky for now.
He used his work phone to call her. ‘Becky, I’ve been sidetracked so it’ll probably be an hour before I get to you. You can’t wait for me – you’ve got a tricky situation there. Are you okay to handle it?’
‘Of course, but what’s going on, Tom?’
‘Nathan Gardner has been doing his own investigating, and I think I know who the woman with the silver hair might be. I think Callie knows her too. So ask her about Thea and Garrick Atwell. That’s the priority. Ask what she knows about them; forget about Ian Fullerton for the moment. Call me when you’ve got anything.’
He cut Becky off and gave in to the temptation to put his foot down.
61
Tom slowed down as he turned into the leafy lane that led to the Atwell home. It wasn’t yet six o’clock, but it was pitch dark outside and there was a fine mist in the air that meant he had to switch on the windscreen wipers for a moment, then off again as they dragged across the glass. He wished the weather would make its mind up and rain properly. Perhaps if it tipped down, Jack and Nathan might be less inclined to snoop around in the Atwells’ grounds.
The houses on either side of the lane were well back from the road, but Tom could see patches of bright light shining through the hedges and shrubs that bordered each property. He could well afford to live somewhere like this, thanks to the money he had inherited when Jack ‘died’, but he didn’t think he would want to. Each building seemed like an island, self-contained, with no connection to the outside world. He wondered for a moment if any of the residents knew their neighbours.
His satnav was telling
him to turn down a narrow track, and he knew he was in the right place when he saw the car that had been parked on his drive a couple of hours ago. Nathan’s hire car. As Tom had suspected, though, it was empty.
He pulled up behind it and switched off his headlights. What he really wanted to do was knock on the Atwells’ door, announce himself and ask if they knew the whereabouts of Caroline Baldwin. They weren’t to know that she had turned up. He could say they had been tracking her movements and understood she had become quite friendly with Thea on the trip to Myanmar.
It was an idea, but he would have a hell of a job justifying his actions later. And it could totally destroy the case against this couple if they had been involved in the assisted suicides of Jasmine DuPont and the woman on the golf course. For now he had to find Jack and get him out of there.
Tom walked to the entrance to the property. The grounds extended into the distance and must have covered at least a couple of acres. His brother could be anywhere.
‘Bollocks,’ he muttered.
It was too dark to see anything, and there wasn’t a sign of life anywhere. He stepped back outside the gates, hoping that if he called Nathan he would get an answer this time, but before he had the chance, his phone vibrated in his hand. It was Becky.
‘Any news?’ he asked without preamble.
‘You could say that! I don’t know where you got your information from, Tom, but you’re bang on the money. Callie’s as nervous as hell and looks like she’s going to fall over with exhaustion, but I’ll deal with that later. I didn’t have to ask her about Thea and Garrick Atwell. I asked her where she had been for the last few days, and she just came out with it. She’s been staying with them.’
‘Staying with them? What, as a friend? As a paying guest? What, exactly?’
‘It’s complicated, but she said they were helping her out after the trouble she’d been having with Ian – which is something of an understatement. I obviously need to delve into that a lot more, but you thought the Atwells were a priority, and Callie isn’t going anywhere so I let her talk. Tom, it sounds bad. She’s been living in their cellar. And not just her. She says there are two other women there too. And one of them is called Hannah.’
Come A Little Closer Page 25