Garrick Atwell lives in south Manchester. He has never married.
65
The track leading to the Atwell house was silent. A breeze rustled the dry leaves of the tall beech hedge that bordered the property. In the distance Tom heard the bark of a fox. Despite the impressive house and its beautiful grounds, it felt like a lonely, isolated place.
Tom had banished Nathan to his hire car, parked at the end of the lane that led to the track and far enough away from the gates not to be seen. He wasn’t as far away as Tom would have liked, but Nathan had refused to leave. Only Tom’s insistence that he could compromise Hannah’s rescue had any impact and had finally persuaded him to keep out of the way.
Tom paced up and down the track. There was no sign of Jack. He didn’t know whether his brother was still hiding somewhere or if he had heard Tom’s warning and disappeared. He could only hope so, because the grounds of the house would inevitably be searched, and if he was there, he would be found. Jack was good, but the police should – at least in theory – be better.
The lights of several vehicles were approaching. There were no sirens, no flashes of blue to brighten the black sky, but Tom knew the support team had arrived. Following the two lead vans was an ambulance, which he sincerely hoped they weren’t going to need. The lights were masked from the house by a thick hedge, and as soon as the vehicles grew close they were switched off and the track was plunged back into darkness, quiet again. Only the soft clicks of van doors being opened and the dull thuds of feet hitting the ground penetrated the silence.
The sergeant heading up the team jumped out of the front of the van and approached Tom. He had been briefed en route but needed to get the lie of the land.
Keeping his voice low, Tom spoke quickly as the two of them edged towards the entrance to the drive, keeping close to the bushes.
‘The crime-scene manager is on his way, but he’s a bit behind you. We’re expecting there to be two elderly people inside, and I have no reason to suspect they’re armed. As you know, we think there are two women in the cellar, probably locked in, and there may be another woman somewhere else in the house, but we don’t know where.’
The sergeant nodded. He was listening closely to what Tom was saying, but his eyes were all over the place, taking in access points to the property and looking for any potential hazards.
‘We tried to get some details of the layout,’ the sergeant said, ‘but it seems the Atwell family have owned this property for years, so there are no handy estate agents’ plans and we haven’t been able to get our hands on anything else that might help.’
‘DI Robinson asked Callie Baldwin about the layout. Apparently at this time of night the couple would normally be having a pre-dinner drink in the drawing room, which is the window at the front of the property on the right.’ Tom pointed to the room in question. ‘There hasn’t been a light showing there, although it’s possible they have thick curtains. It’s equally possible that Baldwin escaping from the house has put the wind up them. They could have absconded, abandoned everything. Callie was inevitably going to discover that she hadn’t killed her boyfriend and then it would have been only a matter of time before she reported them.’
The sergeant nodded. ‘Anything else we should know?’
‘The Atwells’ bedroom is on the first floor at the back of the house. The entrance to the cellar is in something that looks like a cupboard, halfway down the long corridor that runs from the side door towards the entrance hall.’
Tom glanced over his shoulder to where the team were silently and efficiently preparing the equipment they would need to enter the premises.
‘We need multiple points of entry,’ the sergeant said. ‘We’ll enter via the main door as well as the side and back doors. We need to get up the drive as quickly and quietly as possible, so we’ll keep off the gravel until the last moment, and entry through all access points will be simultaneous.’
‘Okay. The women are the priority, of course.’
‘Absolutely. Some of my men are tasked with locating the cellar and getting the women out. The rest will secure the other rooms and locate any other occupants.’
Tom turned back towards where a group of around ten black-clad men in protective gear waited in silence, several of them carrying forcible-entry tools. They stood straight, legs planted firmly apart, and Tom imagined the adrenaline pumping through their systems, as it was pumping through his.
The sergeant walked back to his men and spoke quietly. Tom saw several nods before the sergeant turned back towards the house. He held out a radio to Tom. ‘We’ll let you know when we’re in.’ He signalled to his men, and as a group they disappeared between the gate posts into the dark night. Tom could hear the faint swish of fabric on fabric as their arms and legs pumped them across the grass by the side of the drive, but nothing more.
This was the worst part. Events were out of Tom’s hands for now, and all he could do was stand quietly by and wait. The ambulance was waiting too, the paramedics both out of their vehicle and pacing up and down. They, like Tom, wanted things to move. He glanced towards the end of the track and thought about the car parked down the lane. He knew Nathan would be watching, wanting to be there with the team to see if his sister was alive.
Suddenly the security lights came on and illuminated the front of the house. Within seconds there was an explosion of sound – booms, as not just one door, but two or possibly three were smashed open. Loud shouts of ‘Police! Police!’ ripped through the night air.
Tom didn’t need to wait for any radio message to let him know they were in. He set off at a run up the drive. Lights were going on all over the house, and he hoped and prayed that the women were safe.
By the time he reached the side door the noise had died down. Inside, officers were swarming along corridors and running up and down stairs.
‘Have we found anyone?’ Tom asked the sergeant.
‘We’ve found the door. We’re going to have to break it down. They’re going in now.’
Tom heard the officers shouting to anyone on the other side of the door to move away, and then there was another loud boom as the door to the cellar was broken down. Tom rushed towards the entrance as two men raced down the stairs.
The sergeant’s radio crackled into life. ‘Ambulance needed. Woman down, unconscious.’
Tom desperately wanted to get into the cellar, but there were two officers down there and this was a crime scene, so until Jumbo arrived the priority had to be to get the women out.
‘Is the other woman okay?’ the sergeant said into his radio. There was a crackle before Tom heard the answer: ‘There’s only one woman here, Sarge. Nobody else.’
66
When Becky returned to the interview room, she wasn’t entirely surprised to see Callie with her arms wrapped around herself as if she was trying to keep warm. Her face had a grey, defeated look to it.
‘Are you okay, Callie? Are you feeling ill?’
‘Yes, mainly because of what I’ve just read.’
Becky felt a pang of guilt. The article about Garrick was on Google for the world to see, though, and in spite of all that had happened to Callie, Becky felt she was still conflicted. The last few days may have been hell, but prior to that she had seen Thea and Garrick Atwell as her saviours and was struggling to balance the bad against the good. Becky needed her onside – to give them every piece of information they might need to convict the couple for their crimes.
‘I’m sorry, but I thought you deserved to know.’
Callie shrugged. ‘What a bastard. I never liked his so-called treatment sessions, but I accepted them because I believed I was such an evil person.’
There was nothing that Becky could say to that, so she changed the subject.
‘I’ve found an answer to your question about Albie. There were no babies reported missing in the period you mentioned, but we think we know what happened. DCI Douglas says you met Hannah’s brother.’
Callie looked at B
ecky with startled eyes. ‘Yes, he was the man I thought was a bit dodgy on the boat. How did your boss know that?’
‘It’s a long story. It seems we’ve managed to access Hannah’s texts. One was sent to Albie’s parents resigning without notice. They were furious. That was the day she went missing – but she didn’t take Albie.’
‘Bastards!’ Callie repeated. ‘I bet Thea sent the text to stop them from wondering what had happened to Hannah when she didn’t turn up for work.’
Bastards indeed, Becky thought.
‘Do you mind if I ask you about the third woman – the one you’ve never seen, but you think might be somewhere in the house?’ Becky asked, trying to move Callie on. ‘Judith, you think she is called?’
‘I don’t know much. Garrick called us all Judith, supposedly because he found it easier, but there was more to it than that. It felt as if we were all somehow stand-ins for the real Judith. Apparently I look a bit like her, although the others don’t look at all like me.’
‘I doubt any of you were chosen for your looks – your similarity was possibly just a happy coincidence. Now we know a bit more about the Atwells, it’s almost certain that the key criterion was vulnerability. Do you think the original Judith could have been Garrick’s lover?’
Callie shrugged again. ‘I don’t know. I think she might be Thea’s younger sister, although I don’t suppose that rules her out as a lover. It said in the article that Garrick had never married, but he and Thea appeared to share a bed. So I guess she must have been under his spell too.’
Becky was silent as she processed everything Callie had just told her. She knew exactly what the relationship between the Atwells was and had called Tom to share the information. For the moment she thought it better if Callie didn’t have any other revelations to contend with.
‘Why do you think she was Thea’s sister?’
‘In the house there was a photograph of two women taken in the seventies. The names on the back were Thea and Judith Atwell. Not that it proves anything. They could have been cousins, I suppose. Judith looked about fifteen years younger than Thea. I had no idea there was anyone else in the house until Judith’s husband came looking for her – Vincent, he was called – but Thea wouldn’t let him past the hall.’
Callie explained how Thea had reacted to Vincent’s arrival, repeating everything she could remember about the shouting match that had taken place.
If Callie had remembered the conversation correctly and Vincent hadn’t seen his wife for a year, Becky realised there was something she needed to do.
‘That’s really useful, Callie, but I’m afraid it means I’m going to have to leave you again briefly. I’m sorry, but I need to see if we can track Vincent down. While you wait I’m arranging for you to have a bit more than a sandwich to eat. There’s a hot meal on its way, and one of my colleagues will sit with you to keep you company. I won’t be long.’
Becky lumbered up the stairs, determined not to resort to the lift until she absolutely had to, and sat down at her computer. She was hoping to hear from Tom about progress at the scene and couldn’t help wishing she was there by his side, although she wasn’t sure how much use she would be with Buster – as her partner Mark had started to call the baby – on board.
Instead of the rush she would be feeling if she was there, she had the joyous task of hunting down Judith’s husband, although it wouldn’t take long. They knew more about the Atwell family than she had let on to Callie, and it was relatively easy to locate the address and phone number of Vincent.
‘Vincent Bickerton? This is Detective Inspector Robinson of the Greater Manchester Police. I wonder if you could give me a little information. It’s about your wife, Judith.’
‘What’s happened to her? Is she okay?’ There was no mistaking the panic in his voice.
‘Can I ask when you last saw her, Mr Bickerton?’
She heard what sounded almost like a moan from the other end of the line. ‘I don’t know why you’re asking questions unless something’s up. It’s nearly a year since she went, and I still don’t believe it.’
‘Went where, sir?’
‘Her sister had a fall, and Judith went to help out. I knew it was a mistake and that Thea wanted her to move in with them. She couldn’t manage the house any more, you see. She wanted a free housekeeper, and Judith was always so willing, so happy to help.’
‘But your wife didn’t come home?’
‘I begged her not to go. I knew that weird bastard Garrick would fill her head with rubbish, make her feel guilty about leaving them. And now she’s refusing to see me. Thea says Judith’s told her she never wants to see me again.’
Becky heard Vincent Bickerton’s voice break.
‘Why do you think she won’t talk to you, Mr Bickerton?’
‘I think they’ve twisted her mind. They’ll have convinced her that their need is greater than mine. I don’t know. They’re incredibly persuasive. Somehow they have the ability to make you fall under their spell – to make you trust them. And then you learn the truth. They’re not who you think, you know.’
67
Tom barely had time to register the fact that only one woman had been found in the cellar when there was a shout from upstairs. An officer was leaning over the balustrade.
‘Sir, you need to get up here. Now, sir.’
Tom ran along the corridor to where the staircase curved up towards the first floor, taking the stairs two at a time.
A door part-way along the corridor stood open. Two officers stood by it, their arms hanging by their sides. Whatever lay within clearly offered no danger, and one of them turned to Tom as he approached.
‘Ben’s gone in, sir. But we thought one of us was enough.’
The men stood to one side so that Tom could see into the room. A large bed stood facing the door. Two people lay on the quilted cover, fully clothed. A thin young woman with long dark hair was standing at the end of the bed, holding on to the brass bedstead with both hands as if she needed the support.
‘I remembered the number,’ she said. ‘I remembered it. We had no food, Thea. You forgot to feed us. We were hungry. We needed a cup of your tea.’ She was staring at the people on the bed, rambling – incoherent phrases mingled with short sentences.
Tom spoke quietly to one of the officers. ‘Get her out of there, will you? Gently as you can. And get a paramedic up here.’
The officer nodded and approached the girl. ‘Come on, love. Let’s get you downstairs.’
There was a sudden shout from below and Tom’s head whipped round.
‘Have you found my sister? Hannah! Hannah! She’s my sister. Let me through!’
‘Bollocks,’ Tom said to nobody in particular. ‘That’s all we need.’
The girl lifted her head, a puzzled frown between her eyes. ‘Nathan?’ she whispered.
‘Take her down, and get that bloody idiot out of here. He must not come up here under any circumstances, and if he argues, arrest the stupid bugger.’
Tom wanted to go down and give Nathan Gardner an earful, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the two people on the bed. The officer named Ben was crouching by the side of the elderly woman, taking her pulse. He looked at Tom and shook his head.
‘Okay,’ Tom said. ‘Better come out of the room, then. Let’s get a paramedic up to confirm it. Both of them, I presume?’ The officer nodded. ‘Then let’s get the crime-scene boys in here.’
‘I’m right behind you, Tom.’
For such a big man, Jumbo could move very quietly. Without taking his eyes off the bodies on the bed, Tom spoke. ‘Jesus, Jumbo. I’ve seen some things in my time, but this feels like one of the worst.’
Jumbo stood close to him in the open doorway, their shoulders touching. Neither had anything more to say.
The two elderly people on the bed were holding hands. Matching gas cylinders sat on the floor on either side of the bed, each with a tube leading to a bag firmly fixed in place with parcel tape. The pressure of t
he gas after all breathing had ceased had caused both bags to split, and Tom could see the features of the man and the woman through the clear plastic, where it had settled onto their faces. The wrinkled polythene clung to the protruding noses, to the lips where they had breathed their last breaths, and to the tears he was certain he could see on the old woman’s cheeks.
In the wide corridor behind where Tom and Jumbo were still standing, the crime-scene team were suited up ready to enter the room, waiting for formal confirmation of life extinct, although there was little doubt in anyone’s mind.
The young paramedic spoke quietly to Tom, confirming both Thea and Garrick Atwell were dead.
‘As I was checking her pulse, I noticed a piece of paper protruding from under the old lady’s pillow. Thought you might like to know,’ he added, his voice hushed and slightly croaky. For men used to far more bloody scenes, these two deaths seemed to have affected them all with their sense of hopeless surrender.
Tom looked at Jumbo and raised his eyebrows. The big black man nodded and signalled with his eyes for one of his team to retrieve the note. He placed it inside a clear plastic bag and brought it back to Tom.
Tom took it from him. It didn’t say much, but it seemed to have been written by Thea.
Please rescue Judith and transfer her remains to their rightful place. Don’t think badly of him. He didn’t mean to do it. He went too far, but only because he loved her and wanted her to stay.
Tom read it again, out loud, to Jumbo. ‘Judith was her sister,’ he added for the crime-scene manager’s benefit.
‘Sounds like we’ve got a body to find somewhere, that’s clear enough. It would have helped if she’d told us where to look. I wonder how he killed her.’
‘At least one of them was quite a specialist in drugs,’ Tom said. ‘I would guess he had the knowledge and she administered them. Maybe that’s what she means by “He went too far”. We’re not going to know until we find her body, I don’t suppose.’
Come A Little Closer Page 27