Reflections

by Bannister, Jo

  “The woman was his wife,” said Brodie, a touch sharply. “They seem to have made one another miserable for fifteen years, but they still meant something to each other. She wouldn’t have been able to hurt him if they hadn’t.”

  “She seduced a teenage boy so Daws killed himself?” Deacon’s eyebrow canted doubtfully. “I don’t think so. Daniel?”

  But Daniel wasn’t paying attention. He had his glasses off and the balls of his hands pressed against his eyes. The yellow hair spilled through his fingers. “Oh no … ”

  Brodie’s brow gathered. “What? Daniel, what is it?”

  He exhaled slowly, his head tilting back against the headrest, his eyes shut. Without the glasses his face looked naked. “He came back. He saw his daughters putting the finishing touches to their handiwork.

  “What was he going to do? Nothing? Live with the knowledge of what they’d done? Or call the police and report what he knew? Whatever else they were, they were his children -he couldn’t live with doing that either.”

  “So he killed himself,” whispered Brodie.

  Daniel nodded. “He drove around in despair until he could bear it no longer, then he drove into Frick Lake. He hoped he’d never be found and the blame for Serena’s death would rest at his door. If he couldn’t deal with what the girls had done, he wanted at least to give them that.”

  He felt Deacon’s eyes on him, braced himself for abuse. “I know,” he said tiredly, “I need an analyst, things like that only happen in a seriously sick mind. Well, maybe they do. Superintendent. But this time it wasn’t mine.”

  Deacon went on looking at him for what seemed a long time. Then he started the car again. As he drove he was thinking. He didn’t leave them at Brodie’s house but followed them inside. “You know these girls better than anyone,” he told Daniel. “If you’re right about them taking their aunt, what should we expect? Is it a hostage situation? Or have they made up some story to get her to drive them where they want to go?”

  Fortunately there had been some things of Daniel’s in the wash when he moved out. At least he wouldn’t have to spend the next fourteen hours in women’s clothes. He changed in Paddy’s room, talking to Deacon through the open door.

  “I don’t think a lie would serve. Whatever they said—that they’d heard from their father, that they didn’t feel safe in the house, whatever -1 can’t see Peris driving them anywhere without telling me first. She’d know I’d worry if they just disappeared.”

  Deacon agreed. “So she’s a hostage.”

  “We know they take a fairly direct approach to getting what they want.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s any way you could be wrong about the fire.” It was in Deacon’s face and voice that he didn’t see much doubt himself. He just wanted to have it on record.

  A much cleaner Daniel tugged a sweater over his bright hair and shook his head. “I don’t think so. They went downstairs, locking the door behind them, and within minutes we heard the smoke alarm. I’d believe in Father Christmas, the Tooth Fairy and God before I’d accept that was a coincidence.”

  “So they think you’re dead.” Deacon was filling the doorway, a hand on each side. “So they reckon they haven’t much to lose. They will hurt Mrs Daws to get what they want.”

  “Oh yes,” said Daniel with conviction. “They’ve gone too far to turn back now. They’ll do anything they think will work for them. The only thing keeping Peris safe is the fact that she can drive and they can’t. If you stop the car, the only value she’ll have is as a hostage.”

  “But we have to stop the car. We can’t let them vanish.” Deacon reached a decision. “Daniel, will you come with me? When we find them there’ll be some negotiating to do. They may be more amenable talking to someone they know. I’ll tell you what to say.”

  Daniel stared at him aghast. “They think I’m dead! They think they just killed me.”

  “Then it’s important to show them they didn’t, that you and Brodie are OK. And they mustn’t find out we know about their mother.”

  Daniel’s cheeks were the colour of parchment. “Hell, Jack, I don’t know. A couple of days ago, maybe—I’d have said we had some degree of mutual respect, even friendship, I think if I’d had something important to say they’d have listened. But now? They locked me in an attic and lit a fire under me!” His voice cracked.

  Deacon moved into the room as if his mere proximity might prove persuasive. It wouldn’t be the first time. “If you don’t want to do it, fair enough. You don’t owe it to them. But you may be the best chance Peris has of walking away from this.

  “Whatever else they are, they’re two scared little girls who’ve done things even they can hardly believe. They acted on sheer instinct—it felt right, they wanted to do it, they were clever enough to get away with it. In the short term: they never even considered the long term. They didn’t realise that at some point there would be consequences. Now they’re on the run to nowhere, and when we find them they’ll be trapped and desperate. I don’t know what they’ll do, but I can’t see them giving up their hostage in return for a kind word and a clean hanky. Can you?” .

  Daniel so wanted to say yes. If he could say yes there was no further role in this for him. He had never wanted to be redundant so much in his life. But he wouldn’t lie. He didn’t lie about trivia, he couldn’t lie when lives might be at stake. “No,” he mumbled unhappily.

  Deacon nodded. “Right now they must be terrified of the police. If I try to talk to them they’ll pull up the drawbridge. They’ll use Peris any way they can think of to keep us at bay. Unless we can get their trust. If we can convince them they’ll be looked after, they won’t be hurt, that despite what they’ve done people want to help them. I can tell them that but they won’t believe me. A trained negotiator will say it just the right way, but they won’t trust him either. Why should they?—they don’t know him.

  “They know you, Daniel. If they’ve learnt anything this week it’s that you wouldn’t lie to them. If you tell them they’re all out of options, that things will be difficult for a while but they’ll have help getting through it and if they can just look far enough ahead there’s a better time coming, they’ll believe you. They’ll trust you. If you think they’re worth saving, try. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

  Brodie too had washed and changed; and sprayed a little perfume around for good measure, so she was literally smelling of roses. She came looking for them in time to pick up the gist of the conversation. Unnoticed by either man, she froze in the doorway, implications pulsing through her like electricity. She could only guess how Daniel felt.

  He shook his head microscopically and his voice was thin. “That’s not fair. You can’t put that on me.”

  “No,” agreed Deacon quietly, “I can’t. Only if you want to help.”

  “Of course I want to help! I don’t want to be the reason it all goes wrong. I don’t want Peris to get hurt because I guessed wrong about what would make them give her up.”

  “If it all goes pear-shaped,” said Deacon, “it still won’t be your fault. It’ll be mine. It goes with the job: my decision, my responsibility. Nobody’ll blame you, Daniel, I promise. But you could save that woman’s life.”

  Every instinct urged Brodie to intervene. It was unfair -whatever Deacon said, failure was a burden that would bend Daniel double. But her cooler head said Deacon was right to ask. If someone’s safety depended on it he had to use every weapon at his disposal, even if some of them weren’t police issue. And then, how would Daniel feel if he might have prevented a tragedy and didn’t even try?

  She sidled past Deacon into her daughter’s room and slipped a hand into Daniel’s. She said softly, “It’s your call. I’ll support you whatever you choose. So will Jack.” She faced the big man squarely, daring him to contradict.

  Daniel mumbled, “You really think it would help?”

  “I don’t know,” Deacon said frankly. “If I knew what was for the best in every possibl
e situation I wouldn’t be here, I’d be the goddamned Chief Constable. I think it might help. I think it might be the thing that turns the balance. Even if I’m wrong, if events have gone too far, I don’t see how it can make matters worse. You could come and never be needed. You could try and make no progress. But they might respond to a familiar voice when the best negotiator in the world would only scare them more.

  “I can’t make you do this, Daniel, I won’t even try. It’s your decision: I won’t fling it in your face whatever the outcome. But I’d be happier dealing with those girls if I had you with me than if I have to do it alone.”

  Jack Deacon always reckoned he had no particular talent with words. But he could hardly have pitched his sale better than that. Daniel felt the last shreds of choice blow away. He let his pent-up breath go with them. “I’ll come.”

  Brodie nodded. “Then I’m coming too.”

  Deacon opened his mouth to protest. But the look she hit him with had rocks in it, and said that if he wasn’t ashamed to put pressure on someone that vulnerable then neither was she. Deacon shut his mouth and led the way out to his car.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Deacon headed for the motorway. He didn’t know the girls were making for London but so far no one had come up with a better suggestion. God alone knew what they hoped to achieve there. But then, they hadn’t got into this much trouble by planning ahead.

  So when the word came through on the radio that the Volvo estate car rented to Mrs Peris Daws had been spotted at motorway services twenty miles north of Dimmock they were only minutes away. Deacon pumped the accelerator and soon bright lights sprang at them out of a dip in the road, refuelling facilities for vehicles and people linked across the motorway by a high-level footbridge.

  The Volvo was in a garage service bay, jacked off the ground and with one wheel removed. “Smart woman,” muttered Deacon approvingly. He drove round the back, where a police car was parked in deep shadow, and got out to talk to the crew.

  “Smart woman?” echoed Daniel, confused.

  Brodie put it together for him. “She told the girls there was something wrong with the car. They didn’t know enough to be sure she was lying, but they knew if there was an accident they’d be caught. So they let her bring it into the garage. And then …” She didn’t know what had happened then. They must have left or they’d have been detained by now. It wasn’t immediately clear to her where they went.

  Daniel nodded at the lights of the cafe across the bridge. “They went for a snack while they were waiting.”

  But Brodie shook her head. “Peris Daws isn’t a timid woman. She’s only co-operating because the girls will hurt her if she doesn’t. Bet you anything they’ve got hold of another knife. But they can only control her like that close to.

  if nobody sees the knife and she can’t ask for help. They can’t risk being in a crowd.”

  She was thinking aloud now. “Peris knows that too. She wants to cross the bridge. She offers to buy them drinks and stuff, but they’re not falling for it. They can’t stay with the car—the mechanic’s going to be too close for too long. So they look for somewhere safe to wait. Out of sight, out of earshot, but not too far from the car.” She looked around for inspiration. But dotted around the garage were a variety of permanent and temporary structures serving a variety of obscure purposes. It would be necessary to check each one. “Jack—”

  He leaned an elbow on top of the car. “The mechanic didn’t see where they went. He assumed they’d headed for the cafe. That’s about twenty minutes ago—he told Mrs Daws to give him half an hour. But there’s nothing wrong with the car.”

  “Like you said,” agreed Brodie, “a smart woman. But the girls aren’t stupid either. They didn’t go to the cafe. I don’t think they crossed the bridge.”

  Deacon nodded. “Constable Batty’s had a good look round. They’re not in the cafe or the shop, and he had a member of staff check the Ladies. Nobody remembers seeing them. And they aren’t hard to remember—a black woman and two white girls.”

  “They could be in one of these buildings.”

  Constable Batty leaned down to look into the car. Whatever he was expecting to see in the front of Detective Superintendent Deacon’s car, what he actually saw surprised him. He tried not to stare. “Why do you think that, miss?”

  Deacon gave a gravelly chuckle. “Mrs Farrell is good at finding things. Batty. She reckons the easiest way to find something is not to look for it but to look where it has to be. So I’ll take a wander round and see what I can spot. Daniel, do you fancy a stroll?”

  Daniel could hardly think of anything he wanted to do less. But it was why he was here, so he got out of the car and trailed off behind Deacon like a dog being taken to the vet.

  Almost, Brodie went with them. But Deacon had to avoid startling the girls, wanted to be close enough to talk to them before they knew they’d been found. Three were more likely to attract attention than two. So Brodie stayed where she was, with Constable Batty and his partner, watching the Volvo.

  “When we find them,” said Deacon conversationally, his casual stroll in fact so purposeful that Daniel had to jog to keep up, “play it cool. We were worried about them. They were in a bit of a state when they left the house, we wanted to find them and tell them there’s no damage done that can’t be fixed. Don’t accuse them of starting the fire—for now, it’s something that just happened. Fortunately nobody got hurt.”

  “But they know that I know,” objected Daniel.

  “Of course they do. But we don’t have to deal with that now. They’re scared and feeling a long way from home: all we have to do is make them an offer they want to accept. Come with us and we’ll look after you. Everything’ll be OK. People have been worried about you. OK, you’ve been a bit silly, but come with us and we’ll sort it out.”

  Walking round-shouldered, hands deep in his pockets, Daniel considered. “You may be underestimating them. Johnny in particular: she’s a pretty robust individual. I can’t see her quitting just because someone asks nicely. She had something in mind to come this far. She won’t give it up unless I can offer her something better.”

  Deacon sniffed. “Do you know why most people obey the law? Not because they have an overwhelming moral commitment to it, or they’re terrified of the consequences of not doing. Not because there’s nothing they want that they can’t get legally. The reason is, it’s easier to keep the law than to break it. Things get complicated when you throw the rule-book out the window. You end up burning your house down to silence people who know what you’ve done—only then, where are you going to sleep tonight? So you make a run for it—but you can’t drive so you have to kidnap someone who can.

  “The longer it goes on, the more difficult it gets. Sooner or later you have to eat, sleep, change your clothes—and you don’t have any money, and you don’t know where anything is because you’ve left the only town you’ve ever known. Those girls are suffocating under all the complications. Offer them a square meal and a bed for the night, promise that nobody’ll bother them until tomorrow, and they’ll jump at it.”

  Daniel wasn’t convinced. He knew, as perhaps Deacon did not, how incredibly single-minded children could be. They can focus on an object of desire to the exclusion of everything else. He couldn’t see Johnny Daws meekly giving up her knife, and every vestige of autonomy for the next ten or fifteen years, in return for things she had before she started this. “What if they won’t?”

  Deacon shrugged. “They have to. The only question is when.”

  “And, who gets hurt.”

  The policeman cast him a sidelong glance. “If they start to cut that woman, Daniel, I’m going to forget they’re just a couple of little girls. You put a knife to someone’s throat, you forfeit the right to be treated with kid gloves.”

  Daniel stopped in mid-stride and stared after him until Deacon was forced to stop too. “You told me they’d be safe.”

  “They’ll be as safe as houses once
I get hold of them,” the big man said testily. “But as long as they’re waving lethal weapons around their safety is not my prime concern. Rescuing the innocent bystander: that’s my prime concern.”

  It was hard to argue with his logic. Still, Daniel was a little shocked. Teachers are generally less sentimental about children than those who see less of them, but it was difficult to talk about two young girls that he knew, that he’d taught, as if they were dangerous criminals. Even though they were. He said hesitantly, “You’re not thinking … snipers … ?”

  Deacon laughed aloud—too loud for a man who was trying to pass unnoticed. “You’re a hoot, Daniel, you really are. No, I wasn’t thinking snipers. And I’ve got the carpet-bombers on hold for the moment, too. Come on, let’s find the little horrors before we worry too much how we’re going to grab them.”

  But as they walked on he murmured, “Besides, there aren’t many situations that snipers can resolve that a couple of big Rottweilers can’t.” The startled jerk of Daniel’s yellow head in the half-darkness was all the reward he asked.

  They passed among the sheds and stores, trying doors as they went. Daniel’s nerves cranked a little tighter with every one. When they found the right door it was unlikely Johnny Daws would instantly leap out of it with her knife between her teeth. Still, the tension racked him until he couldn’t think straight.

  After a minute Brodie turned to Constable Batty. “I’m going to have a look round the main concourse.”

  He said mildly, “We’ve done that. And there’s another crew on the other side watching out for them.”

  “I can go places you can’t.”

  “A WPC did that.”

  She breathed heavily at him. “I can’t sit here doing nothing any longer. I’m going to have a look across the bridge. All right?”

  As she got out of Deacon’s car another pulled up and Detective Sergeant Voss emerged. Learning what was going on he’d chased up the motorway to join in. Charlie Voss was made for discreet surveillance. With his shock of sandy hair, freckles and amiable open countenance, he looked more like a curate than a detective. His car looked less like a police car than an entry in a Demolition Derby.