Two Evils: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel

by Mark Sennen

  ‘Sorry, ma’am.’ Riley turned his hands up in guilt. ‘It was only this morning Stone became a suspect in our case. I guess we haven’t correlated all the information yet.’

  ‘OK, let’s leave that for a moment and try and get our heads around what’s going on here. We’ll start at the beginning and go through the events sequentially. One, Jason and Liam disappear in 1988. Nothing is found until Layton digs up the cellar and discovers a bone which belongs to Jason Caldwell and we find the rest of the boy’s skeleton is buried in a wood near Woodland Heights. We now suspect Frank Parker of killing Jason to cover up the abuse at the home. Fast-forward to the present day. Tim Benedict and Perry Sleet go missing. Next, Jason Hobb goes missing and Liam Clough is murdered. Finally, Benedict turns up critically injured and dies a day later.’

  ‘And you’re suggesting Stone is the link between these crimes?’

  ‘Stone was a resident at the home, he was enquiring about Perry Sleet and he had contact with the Hobb boy through Hobb’s mother, Angie.’

  ‘What about the raft?’ Riley said. ‘The one Tim Benedict was found on is identical to the one which washed up on the beach at Jennycliff. Do you think Stone could be involved with that too?’

  ‘I doubt it. I can’t see Stone having the nous to build such a thing. He can barely cobble together a sentence, let alone a complex woodworking project. And even if he could, where did he construct the thing? He lives in a bedsit.’

  ‘The same place he’s holding Jason?’ Riley said.

  ‘I don’t buy it. Stone has three brain cells. If he is our man, then he doesn’t have the wits to cover his tracks. Which means we should get something from his house or car. His place has already been looked at but I think it’s time it was searched properly.’

  Savage told Riley that she’d despatch a team of CSIs over to Devonport to rip up Stone’s bedsit and examine his Corsa. A week ago, DC Calter had suggested just that; Savage hoped her decision not to proceed back then hadn’t been the wrong one.

  ‘This is getting much too complex for my liking,’ she said. ‘We’ve got Stone and Parker as suspects in linked investigations, but the PACE clock is running on Parker, so it would be nice to find Stone before we have to release him.’

  That wasn’t the only clock which was running, Savage thought, as she remembered the drawing Hardin had been sent. The drawing depicted a stick-figure representation of Jason Hobb imprisoned in a box. Scared, alone and buried underground, time was almost certainly running out for him too.

  After speaking to Riley, Savage and Calter rendezvoused with an interview advisor at the custody centre. The advisor, a small thin man in his thirties, looked as if he was about to have kittens. When Parker had been booked in, he’d been asked about legal representation, but he’d rejected the offer.

  ‘He’s refused a lawyer.’ The advisor shook his head. ‘Apparently the only thing he needs is a Bible. It’s bloody inconvenient, I mean, he’s a nutter, isn’t he? This God and damnation stuff. All he needs to add is he’s hearing voices and we’re bloody knackered. If he’s got mental issues, then any sense we’re cajoling him could lead to all sorts of problems down the line.’

  ‘Are you telling me we need an appropriate adult?’

  ‘If not a lawyer, then yes. If he’ll wear it.’

  ‘I can put it to him, but no, I don’t think he will.’

  Half an hour later, armed with copious notes from the advisor, Savage and Calter moved to the interview room where Frank Parker awaited. Savage wanted to know if Parker was still refusing a lawyer and if he’d accept an appropriate adult.

  ‘No. God will judge me,’ Parker said as Savage pulled out a chair and sat. ‘His love and protection are enough. His will will be done and there is nothing you or I can do to alter that fact.’

  ‘Fine,’ Savage said. She was fed up with Parker’s religious talk. Whether it was put on or genuine, she wasn’t going to let his preaching stand in the way.

  Calter conducted the preliminaries with the audio and video equipment and then they were off. Savage ran through the events of the 26th August as described by Brenden Parker. She then asked him if he agreed with that version.

  ‘Yes, all true.’ Parker sat as straight as a broom, one hand extended rigidly across the table and resting on a hastily rustled-up Bible. ‘I went down to the cove and found Jason lying in the sand, blood all over him. Brenden had dragged him up the beach away from the water and into the shelter of a cave. I think Jason had been alive at that time, but looking at the state of the body I knew there was nothing anyone could have done. It was a sickening sight.’

  Savage said nothing for a minute. Silence, she often found, revealed the veracity of any statement. In this case she thought Parker’s words were a pack of lies. She let Parker sit a little longer and then spoke again.

  ‘Except there was plenty which could have been done, wasn’t there?’

  ‘No, Inspector. Jason had bled to death. Brenden had stabbed him repeatedly.’

  ‘Not at all. The wounds were superficial. Brenden cut Jason with a pocketknife. The blade was perhaps two inches in length. According to the pathologist, the weapon used to kill him was much larger. Something like a kitchen knife.’

  ‘Patholo …’ Parker blinked rapidly and then clasped the Bible with both hands. ‘I thought there were only bones left?’

  ‘Jason Caldwell’s bones have told us a lot. There’s no way a pocketknife could have caused Jason’s death.’

  ‘Brenden must have had a different blade then.’

  ‘Well, coincidentally a kitchen knife was reported missing by the housekeeper, Edith Bickell.’ Savage looked down at her notes. ‘The knife vanished from a locked drawer and she was sure she’d used it earlier that evening.’

  ‘There you go. Brenden must have used that.’

  ‘Later, though, Miss Bickell retracted the statement, saying instead the knife had been missing for months. Odd, huh?’

  ‘Not at all. Her memory must have played tricks on her. Edie’s like that, even now she—’

  ‘Edie?’ Savage stared at Parker, something clicking in her brain. She cast her mind back a few hours to when they’d arrested him. He’d shouted at his wife as they’d led him away: Edie! Silence, woman! Edie, Savage thought. Not Deborah. Of course. She had it now. Mrs Edie Parker was none other than Miss Edith Bickell. The change of name explained why Collier had had trouble tracking her down. Savage nodded and then smiled. ‘And Edie Bickell is your second wife, right?’

  ‘What of it?’ Parker snapped. ‘Edie and I got together after the home closed. Deborah, my first wife, left me. She took Brenden and ran off. Turned the boy against me.’

  ‘Right. Seems to me back then Edith might have been doing you a favour in changing her story about the knife because she was in love with you. Or perhaps, afterwards, you owed her.’

  ‘Complete and utter nonsense.’

  Once again Savage let Parker’s words hang for a minute. Then she tried a new tack.

  ‘You know why the investigation wound down, don’t you, Mr Parker? The real reason you didn’t report Jason Caldwell’s murder.’

  ‘I’ve told you why I didn’t report it. I didn’t want to implicate my son and I didn’t want the home to close.’

  ‘And I don’t believe you.’ Savage reached into the folder once more. She brought out the photocopy of the picture Hardin had given her and slid the image across the table. ‘Might this not have played a part?’

  ‘My God! Where did you get that?’

  ‘You didn’t want anyone poking their noses in too deeply, did you?’

  ‘I …’

  ‘As you said, a murder investigation would have caused massive disruption. There would be more than just a few questions. This man’s name would have come out and you would be implicated in the abuse as well.’

  ‘You don’t understand. This isn’t what you think.’

  ‘But it is, Mr Parker. Next you’re going to tell me some story which p
rovides a justification for what went on in the home. You’re a sad, pathetic excuse for a human being. You hide behind your religious rhetoric, but underneath you’re nothing but a pervert and a murderer. You went down to the cove and you discovered Jason. He was cut badly on his hands but he wasn’t dying. You’d brought the kitchen knife with you and you decided there’d be fewer questions if you killed Jason. I bet the poor boy looked up from the sand, pleading for help. Instead of help he got a blade in the stomach.’

  ‘STOP!’ Parker spat the word at full volume. He leant forward and stared at Savage. Then his bottom lip began to quiver. His eyes filled with tears and he collapsed face down on the table with his hands on top of his head.

  Savage glanced across at Calter. The DC shrugged. This wasn’t what Savage was expecting at all.

  ‘I can understand why you did it, Frank, but I can’t understand why you told Brenden he was guilty. A thirteen-year-old boy. He’s spent his life thinking he killed Jason Caldwell. What a burden for him to carry.’

  Parker continued to sob, his face pressed against the Bible. Savage opened the folder again. She pulled out two more photographs.

  ‘We need your help, Frank,’ she said. ‘You can put things right.’

  Parker looked up as Savage pushed the pictures across the table.

  ‘The left-hand one is Liam Clough. He was murdered, his body dumped on the Drake’s Trail cycle path. The other boy is Jason Hobb and we believe he’s being held captive. He’s buried in the ground in a makeshift coffin. If we don’t find him soon then he’ll die.’

  ‘Jason?’ Parker stared at the pictures. ‘My God, no, what is this?’

  ‘You know what this is, Frank. It’s history repeating itself. Somebody playing a deadly game.’

  ‘Mr Parker?’ Calter spoke using an even lighter tone than Savage. She reached across the table and pointed at the picture of Jason. ‘That little boy is scared. He needs your help, Frank. Where is he?’

  Parker turned from Savage to Calter. ‘I’ve got nothing to do with this. Are you crazy? Why would I hurt these two?’

  ‘Come on, Frank, you killed Caldwell.’ Calter extended her arm a little farther and touched the Bible beneath Parker’s hands. ‘It’s a fantasy, isn’t it? These two boys are standing in for the two boys in the past. I’m sure God will forgive you if you tell us the truth.’

  ‘You’re crazy.’ Parker snatched the Bible from underneath Calter’s hand and drew the book across the table. He clutched it to his chest. ‘What happened on the beach was awful, but I was trapped. The minister threatened me and I had no choice, but ever since, I’ve lived a blameless life. I swear to Almighty God I’m innocent of these crimes.’

  ‘Mr Parker.’ Savage decided to go formal again. ‘We believe there’s a link from these contemporary crimes to the missing boys from the home. It seems beyond doubt whoever abducted Jason Hobb and Liam Clough is connected with Woodland Heights.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right, but the connection isn’t me.’

  ‘So who is it then?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask Brenden?’ Parker said the words with venom. ‘He’s the cause of all this. If he hadn’t got into a fight with Caldwell, then none of this would have happened. I will confess to killing Jason Caldwell and I’ll make a statement to that effect. I will not admit to anything else because, by God, I’m innocent of any other crime.’

  Savage nodded. Parker, it appeared, was done. She nodded to Calter to pause the interview and they left the room. In the corridor, Savage asked the DC what she thought.

  ‘A charmer, our Mr Parker,’ Calter said. ‘Happy to diss his own son when the blame lies with him all along.’

  ‘Well, somebody’s telling porkies,’ Savage said. ‘Let’s see what progress the sexual offence liaison officers have made with Brenden and then re-evaluate the situation. Depending on what they’ve found out, we may need another word with him.’

  ‘You think he could be in the frame?’

  ‘Well, I’m pretty sure that between the pair of them the Parkers are responsible for this whole thing.’

  ‘What have you done!’ The voice came in the pitch-black. ‘You abomination! Not only are you trying to escape again like you did all those years ago, you’ve also disturbed Mother.’

  Jason flinched in the darkness and cowered back into the corner as he heard the sound of a spade clanging on stone. Somebody was digging down from above. He reached out in the dark and found a long thin piece of the planking he’d dug out earlier. The end had splintered and left a sharp point

  ‘Well, I won’t have it. You’re staying here with me now, whether you like it or not. I don’t know. I thought Smirker was mischievous. You’re in another league entirely. Wait until I get down there, my boy, I’ll give you a taste of discipline you’ll never forget.’

  ‘No, please!’ Jason called out. The corpse had been one thing, but now the nutter was coming for him. ‘I’m a good boy really. Ask my mum.’

  ‘What’s that you say?’ The digging stopped. ‘A good boy?’

  ‘Yes. Honestly. And I’ll be your friend.’

  ‘How can I believe you? Boys lie all the time. The other Jason lied to me. He said he was my friend and then he ran off. Later he came back and I put gems in his eyes. He was a good boy for years, but now he’s run away again.’

  ‘I won’t run away, I promise. Cross my heart.’

  ‘Ah! How do I know you’re crossing your heart?’

  ‘Look down. I’m right beneath the tube.’

  Silence. And then a shaft of bright light. The beam from a powerful torch.

  ‘OK, show me.’

  ‘Drop the torch down so I can light myself up.’

  Silence again and then the sound of the torch sliding down. Jason caught the torch as it fell from the bottom of the tube. He glanced up the tube and saw a face press down, an eye moving into place at the end. He pulled the piece of wood to him and selected the sharp end.

  ‘Are you looking?’ he said.

  ‘Yes. Show me.’

  ‘OK.’

  Jason rammed the piece of plank up the tube with all his might, connecting with something soft and squishy at the other end.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  I haven’t written anything for over two months. Two months! My world has fallen apart since that night on the beach, but it’s time to put pen to paper and record what happened.

  As Jason lay in my arms, I knew I had to get help. Liam had disappeared out to sea, so my only hope was to run back to the house. I lowered Jason to the sand and ran for all I was worth. Back at the house, my father was coming down the front steps with Bentley. At my approach the two of them looked up, Father concerned. I blurted out what had happened and Father at once made to come with me. Bentley said something to Father, but I didn’t catch it. He then got into his car and drove away.

  Father then set off for the beach. I wanted to come, but he changed his mind and insisted I remained behind. It wasn’t until several hours later that Father returned. He stomped upstairs to the apartment and barged into the living room. I was lying on the settee, my head on Mother’s lap. I raised my head. Father was covered in dirt. Sand – of course – but mud and leaves too.

  I asked him where Jason was but he only started to shout. It was all my fault, he said. And my mother’s. I began to cry and asked him again about Jason. You killed him, he said. You stabbed him and left him dying in the surf.

  Then Father hit me. Not a smack but a full-on punch which knocked me down. As I lay on the floor, I thought of what had happened at the cove. I’d cut Jason on the hands, but could I have killed him?

  ‘No,’ I said as Father walked away. ‘Noooooo!’

  What had I done? What awful sin had I committed? Had I blacked out in a rage and stabbed Jason?

  Now, over two months later, I’ve at least managed to work out what happened to Jason’s body. You see, Father and Mr Samuel have been in the cellar tonight. I watched through the airbrick as they carried a b
undle down the steps and through into the adjoining room. The bundle had to be Jason’s corpse. They must have hidden him somewhere away from the home. Now everything had calmed down, they’d brought him back. I couldn’t see what Father and Mr Samuel were up to, but I could hear. They were digging and then afterwards they were mixing concrete.

  Once they’d gone off to bed, I made my way down to the cellar. The place smelled of cement and other odours. And the flies, there were masses of them. In the little room next to the cellar, I found an area of freshly laid concrete. I knew Jason was down there. Sleeping. He could only be sleeping because he couldn’t be dead. I couldn’t have killed him. Not me.

  I’d brought a number of night lights with me and I placed them around the room. On one side were a set of scaffold boards Father had used to tamp down the concrete. I took a couple of the boards and slid them across the wet concrete. I scrabbled across the boards and began to dig. It took ages as I flung lumps of wet concrete to one side. The more I dug, the more the concrete tried to flow back into the hole. Eventually the cement dried somewhat and I managed to clear an area a few feet across. Beneath the concrete was soil and rubble. I picked out dozens of pieces of brick and stone and put them in a tin bucket. Each time the bucket became full, I dumped the contents to one side. Eventually I saw something golden in amongst the earth: hair!

  It took me a while to understand what they’d done. All I could see was the top of his head. Then I realised they’d buried him vertically in an old well, with huge lumps of stone all around him. I leant over and tried to remove some of the stones, but the task was impossible. Jason was wedged in place.

  I think it was then I lost it. I figured that there was no way to get him out. I began to cry as I thought of his beautiful face, his welcoming smile and his sparkling eyes.