‘Oh God, I had a feeling this was where it was leading. Okay, we need to get a team here as soon as we can. Did she say if the other girls were safe?’
‘She thinks so, but she said there might be a third woman somewhere in the house too. This woman’s husband came looking for her, and Thea Atwell told him she was refusing to see him. Callie says she’s never seen the other woman, but she thinks her name is Judith.’
Tom stood still and thought for a moment.
‘Isn’t that the name of the woman we found on the golf course?’
‘No, you were right about the surname, but her first name was Julie. Callie has no idea where this Judith might be, or even if she’s definitely there. She says the house is like a rabbit warren, and there are areas she was never allowed to enter, even when she was cleaning.’
Tom had a stream of questions that he wanted to ask. But he didn’t have time. He needed to get into that house, and he couldn’t do it alone.
‘Becky, I need you to be the one to call this in. Would you mind repeating what Callie told you? Use that as the basis for getting the team out here. Let Control know I’m on my way to the scene – not that I’m here already – and I’ll meet them outside the property. We may need to force entry, and we’ll need a crime-scene manager. See if you can get Jumbo. Oh, and it would be sensible to have an ambulance standing by too. We’ve no idea what we’re going to find. No sirens. I’ll brief them when they’re en route.’
He could sense the unasked questions coming down the phone line, but there would be time to answer them all later. Right now he didn’t want to muddy the waters, and he needed to find Jack and get him well away from the place before anyone else arrived.
62
I look up as the heavily pregnant detective inspector comes back into the room. I don’t understand what is going on, because she hasn’t spoken to me about Ian at all yet. She only wanted to know where I have been hiding, and then she disappeared, saying she needed to make a call.
I felt a stab of guilt when I told her about Thea and Garrick. Their behaviour since I killed Ian has freaked me out, but before that they were so kind to me, especially Thea. And then I remember the doctor and his ‘trust’ exercises and I start to shiver again.
The inspector takes a seat.
‘Thanks for telling me about Thea and Garrick Atwell. My boss, DCI Douglas, is putting everything together now so we can get into the house and make sure the women you told me about are all okay. As soon as I know anything, I’ll tell you. But first, can you explain how you came to be staying with the Atwells?’
I tell my story: how I lost my job and had tried to end my relationship with Ian, and the way Thea had come to my rescue. I don’t know how much to say. Should I ask for a solicitor?
‘Ian wasn’t an easy man,’ I say, knowing it is a huge understatement. But I don’t want to sound as if I am making excuses for what I did. ‘He could be particularly vitriolic.’
The inspector pulls a face. ‘Yes, we know that. We read some of the emails.’
I’m shocked by this, although I don’t know why. Of course they will have been looking into our history to see what drove me to do what I did.
‘I’m sorry, but should I have a solicitor with me? Shouldn’t I be cautioned?’
The inspector gives me a puzzled frown. ‘Why would you think that?’
I am not sure I’m supposed to say this out loud. I’m fairly certain that I’m not supposed to admit to anything, but as I’ve no intention of denying it, it doesn’t really matter.
‘I’m here to hand myself in. I killed Ian. I don’t remember doing it, but I’ve seen the crime-scene tape, and I’ve seen the posters with my face on. That’s why I’m here. I can’t hide any longer.’
She’s staring at me now as if I have completely lost it.
‘Callie, Ian isn’t dead. We thought you were dead.’
I don’t know what to say.
‘Ian is being held on remand. He’s been charged with your murder.’
Hannah was feeling worse. She and Rosa had run out of words, and the misery had intensified. The pains in her stomach had increased and her muscles kept cramping. With no energy, she lay there alternately shivering and sweating, feeling as if someone was driving a screwdriver into her skull.
Rosa had gone downhill too. She had thought she would be the less affected of the two because the doctor had changed her medication, but half an hour ago she had keeled over and was now lying at the foot of Hannah’s bed.
‘Rosa,’ Hannah mumbled. ‘You said we might have seizures. If one happens to you, what can I do?’
‘Nothing,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t hold me down. Don’t put your fingers in my mouth. Try to get me on my side, if you can. But you can’t really do anything.’
We’re going to die here, Hannah thought. If Thea didn’t come, they would starve.
Slowly, carefully, she twisted her body until she was sitting up on the bed. Rosa opened her eyes and looked at her, but said nothing. It was probably too much effort.
Hannah used the bedside table as support and eased herself to her feet. They needed water. They had to keep drinking, if nothing else. She lurched across the room, grabbing the door frame as she stumbled out into the corridor.
63
Tom’s first responsibility was to the women inside this huge house, not to Jack. But there was nothing he could do to help them until the team arrived, and in the meantime he needed to track his brother down before the place was swarming with police. Jack’s presence would be impossible to explain. However, Tom knew it would take a while for a team to be assembled – some planning would take place first, and that gave him a bit of time.
He had no idea how far into the grounds he could go before triggering the inevitable security lights, and it would be unprofessional of him to do anything that might compromise the actions of the support team when it finally arrived. He could walk around the perimeter, sticking to the bushes, but that would take too long.
‘Bloody hell, Jack,’ he hissed.
Suddenly the front of the house was bathed in a bright white light, and Tom saw a tall figure marching up the drive.
‘Shit!’
Was it Nathan? The man didn’t have Jack’s relaxed gait, and there was a purpose to his stride that Tom didn’t entirely like the look of. He was going to have to go after him. Sticking his redundant phones in the pockets of his jacket, he set off at a run.
Tom had no idea where Jack was but felt sure he would be close by, so as he ran he spoke in a voice that wasn’t loud enough to be heard through the closed windows of the house but hopefully it would carry to where his brother was probably skulking in the shadows. ‘You have to get out of here, Jack. Now. There’s a team coming. Get the hell out. You’d better be bloody listening.’
Tom caught up with Nathan at the front door.
‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ He didn’t try to hide his anger.
‘If my sister’s in there, I’m getting her out. It’s got nothing to do with you, Tom. If the police can’t deal with it, I will.’
‘The police are dealing with it. We have a team on the way now. You’re just buggering it all up.’
‘Well, too late now,’ Nathan said, raising his fist with the obvious intention of hammering on the door.
Tom grabbed Nathan’s forearm. ‘You are wilfully obstructing a police officer in the execution of his duty. Do you want me to arrest you?’
‘Piss off, Tom. You’re being ridiculous.’
‘No, Nathan, I’m not. I know far more about what’s going on here than you do, because I’ve been doing my job. And I know that barging in and alerting the Atwells to the fact that there’s a problem could be far more dangerous to your sister than waiting for a team of men trained to deal with things like this. Do you want this to become a hostage situation? It’s not what you think, Nathan. It’s far worse. Come away from that door.’
Tom couldn’t help thinking that Nathan was
the tosser he had always believed him to be when they were younger, but it wasn’t a helpful thought. He just needed to get him clear of the door.
‘I’ve met these two. They’re old, Tom. They’re harmless.’
Tom wanted to tell him that the Atwells had very probably been involved in the deaths of two young women. Never mind the fact that they had another two women locked in their cellar and possibly a third held somewhere else. But that would be unprofessional and would probably result in Nathan beating the door down to get to Hannah.
‘They’re not harmless. But as far as we know, Hannah isn’t in imminent danger. We need to be sure she stays that way.’
Nathan glared at Tom, his gaze unflinching. ‘They’ll have seen the security lights.’
‘Let’s hope not. No lights have come on in the rooms this side of the house. Maybe they live at the back. And I bet the lights trip every time a fox wanders by. If the Atwells are as old and doddery as you say, the worst they could have done is call the police or a security company. We’re covered if that happens. You’re with me. Come away from the door. Now, Nathan.’
‘I’ll give it thirty minutes. If your guys are not here by then, I’m kicking that bloody door in whether you like it or not.’
That wasn’t going to happen, but Tom knew that to threaten him with arrest again would just wind him up further. So he simply stared back until Nathan turned and started down the path.
Tom caught up with him. ‘Where the hell is Jack? He needs to be out of here.’
‘He’s waiting over there.’ Nathan pointed to a thick clump of bushes.
Tom nodded and jogged to where Nathan had indicated. But there was no sign of Jack. He turned and looked at Nathan.
‘If he’s not there, I don’t know where he is. He’s your brother, Tom, and you know what he’s like. He’ll be doing his own thing.’
That was exactly what Tom was worried about.
64
I’m still struggling to take in what the inspector has told me. Ian has been arrested and charged with my murder, although he denies he ever touched me. The poster I saw in the shop was there because they hadn’t found my body and were obliged to try to find me in case Ian had been telling the truth.
I didn’t kill him. I didn’t even hurt him. I didn’t go back to the house after the fight. Thea and the doctor had lied to me. But why? And why did the police think Ian had killed me?
‘We had a tip-off from a neighbour. She said there was a massive argument, and she saw blood on your clothing. She was sure he’d hurt you. She thought she heard Ian shout that he wanted you dead, so she’d gone round the next day to see if you were okay. Ian told her you’d gone for good and gave her a mouthful of abuse.’
This doesn’t surprise me.
‘And you had called us only days previously because you had locked yourself in the bathroom, scared he was going to attack you.’
Oh God! I had forgotten about that. I could see how it had all added up in their minds.
I remember a woman walking past as I hurled things out of the window – she must have been the one to call the police. And suddenly there’s something else in that image too. Thea wasn’t in the car all the time I was in the house; she was on the drive when I started to chuck Ian’s clothes out. At the time I had thought she was coming to my rescue, but she had scurried back to her car. Did she take the claw hammer from the garage then? The door was open, I remember that.
‘We found blood at the scene, and it matched yours,’ the inspector says.
‘I cut my hand,’ I say, holding up my damaged palm, which still has a plaster on it.
‘There was so much evidence pointing to Ian’s guilt,’ she says. I can see she is uncomfortable. ‘The blood wasn’t just in the house, it was on some of his clothes and in the boot of the car. We assumed he had taken your body somewhere.’
I remember seeing the red stains on his grubby T-shirts as I threw them out of the window. And I had rooted around in the car, trying to find my boots.
‘My hand bled so much, and I couldn’t stop it. My heart was really pumping that day. I have never been in such a rage in my life, so I guess my blood pressure was through the roof.’
The inspector gives me a sympathetic smile. ‘They probably laced your food or drink with something designed to fire you up, make you angry. Why did you think you had killed him, though?’
I explain about waking up in the bath and not being able to remember a single thing that had happened.
She shakes her head. ‘I suspect they used a drug called scopolamine on you as well. It makes you compliant, but you forget everything you’ve done.’
We’re both quiet for a moment as I take in the horror of what has been happening to me, and what could have happened had I stayed in that cellar.
The inspector continues: ‘The evidence against Ian stacked up further when we found the emails – all of them antagonistic, to say the least. Another neighbour – an older man – came forward to say that he had heard Ian shouting at you and witnessed a serious argument. So we had the blood, the aggression, the shouting, the abusive emails – and you were missing. Your phone hadn’t been used; you hadn’t withdrawn any money from your personal account or bought anything on a credit card; your car was in the drive, and your passport was in the house. We had to arrest him.’
‘What will happen to him now?’
‘The CPS will have to be told. We’ll need to take a statement from you, saying where you were and why you didn’t come forward. Then they will take him to a magistrate to secure his release.’
I shiver at the thought of what Ian has been through. I despise him for the way he treated me, but I know how I felt when I thought I was his murderer and was going to prison for a long time. How much worse to be arrested, knowing that despite all the things you had done, this was the one thing that you hadn’t.
‘So Thea and Garrick wanted me to believe I had killed Ian just so that they could control me?’
‘I assume so. If you thought you were wanted for murder you would stay with them – possibly forever. They probably chose you because you were going through a tough time. From what we know of them, that seems to be their modus operandi – to seek out vulnerable young women.’
The thought of the Facebook post that had lost me my job and drove me to staying with them springs into my head.
‘I always thought the Facebook post that got me the sack had been written by Ian – an act of revenge because I was going to throw him out. And if it wasn’t him, I thought it might have been a man I met on the boat in Myanmar, although I couldn’t think why he would do such a thing. It never occurred to me to suspect Thea, even though I found her waiting for me in my cabin more than once. I didn’t think she would know how to use Facebook.’
The inspector raises her eyebrows and I realise how naive that thought was.
‘I’m sorry, Callie, but I think you were targeted from the start. I can’t tell you much about our ongoing investigation, but after they managed to convince you that you had killed Ian, what did your daily life consist of?’
I think back to the brief time I was in the cellar and the devastation I felt. For the first time I begin to imagine how the other two must feel after months of living there, so I tell Becky about the drugs I’m sure we were given, although fortunately for me I wasn’t on them long enough to become addicted. I talk about the cleaning, the ironing, taking care of the couple. I don’t tell her about the doctor and the treatment sessions, though. Especially the last one. I will have to, I suppose, but I’m not quite ready. Every now and again, through the mist of my anger and revulsion at everything that happened, I see Thea’s kind face on the boat as she helped me through such a dreadful time.
And then I think about Hannah and the other woman.
‘Can I ask you a question? Do you know if a baby called Albie was kidnapped some time around November last year? That’s what they said Hannah had done, but she can’t remember.’
The ins
pector shakes her head. ‘Nothing springs to mind, but I’ll check it out.’ She swivels a laptop to face me. ‘DCI Douglas, my boss, asked me to look into Thea and Garrick Atwell. I’m going to share this with you because it’s the result of a Google search and not restricted information. Did you know that Garrick was a psychiatrist?’
I nod. ‘Retired, I think, but he still liked to practise on all of us women.’
‘Not retired, Callie. Struck off. Read this article. It was only written last year, but it exposes malpractice over the last fifteen years. A number of psychiatrists were named. Garrick Atwell is one of them. I’ll leave it with you.’
I see sympathy in her eyes as she leaves the room. She must know something about Garrick’s methods. I look away from her pity, and I begin to read.
The piece begins with information about his training and background. It takes a while to get to the meat of the article, which focuses on statements from several patients. Each in turn comments on Dr Atwell’s obsession with trust, the treatments that he prescribed and how he encouraged them to loosen or even remove their clothes during a session, to free them from restraint, encourage self-respect and demonstrate their trust.
A shudder runs through my body. I think of myself lying on his couch, listening to his words wash over me, telling me to loosen the cord of my tracksuit bottoms. I want to stop reading, but I can’t.
“My actions have been taken totally out of context,” Dr Atwell said when interviewed. “Trust is an essential part of any close relationship and all barriers have to be broken down. I am writing a thesis on the subject, and I am confident that I can prove my point. I will continue with my work, using willing volunteers who are happy to put their faith in me.”
I wasn’t a willing volunteer, though. If I had decided to stay, I would have been forced to become a guinea pig for the good doctor and a servant for his wife. I feel a lurch in my stomach, and for a moment I think I am going to be sick. But then the last sentence catches my eye and drives all other thoughts from my head.
Come A Little Closer Page 26