Drew nodded. "I can imagine he did. But you need to remember your son was found guilty of a very serious crime."
She snorted derisively, but Harriet caught sight of whitening of the other woman's knuckles as she closed her creased fingers over the cane. Despite appearances to the contrary, it seemed John Taylor's mother was in fact perturbed by the crimes he'd been convicted of.
"I suppose you're here to accuse him of something else he didn't do?"
"Would it be possible for us to come inside and have a chat?" Drew gave her his most winning smile, but from where Harriet stood she could tell it had no effect.
"I don't suppose I can say no, can I?" She moved aside slowly, allowing Drew to step over the threshold and into the house.
Mrs Taylor huffed as Maz followed Drew, and when Harriet moved into the hall, she found herself the object of the other woman's attention. "Two coppers and a doctor, well aren't I the lucky one."
Harriet bit her tongue and allowed Mrs Taylor to shuffle ahead into the lounge. The house was in a state of disrepair. A large yellow water mark marred the far corner of the ceiling, causing the plaster to sag downwards. The faded floral wallpaper had begun to peel in places, but Harriet could see where somebody had made an effort to repair the damage. Despite outward appearances—the dated decor, wear and tear—Harriet could tell that Mrs Taylor took pride in her home. There were several small mahogany tables in the room with small trinkets and knick-knacks covering every inch of surface space in the room. Family pictures adorned the walls. The smiling faces of their children at various ages grinned down at them, spoke of happier times.
"Don't stand around," Mrs Taylor said. "I can't spend my time looking up at you, my neck doesn't work like that anymore." She pointed an arthritic finger toward the couch. Drew took a seat on the end of the couch nearest Mrs Taylor, and Harriet settled onto the opposite end, leaving Maz to stand awkwardly near the door.
"There's a chair in the other room," she said to Maz.
"I'm fine," Maz said. Mrs Taylor glared at him, and Drew nodded subtly, letting Maz know that he should do as he was told.
A couple of moments later, and all three of them were settled in the living room. It took Harriet a moment to realise just how strategic Drew's position was on his end of the couch. From the vantage point he'd taken up, he could see out the front window which meant anyone who came up the path would be instantly visible, and with his back to the wall it meant no one would sneak up on him without him knowing about it. Drew had many little habits and quirks, but this one in particular had become more pronounced since his run in with the Star Killer.
Mrs Taylor cleared her throat, her attention seemingly riveted to the television screen, but Harriet could feel the tension that radiated from the other woman. "You lot going to tell me what you want with John, or do I have to guess?"
"Are you aware of the boy who went missing yesterday?" Drew wasted no time in getting straight to the point. Mrs Taylor's jaw tightened, and she swung her gaze towards Drew.
"My John had nothing to do with that."
"How can you be so sure?" There was no animosity in Drew's voice that Harriet could tell, just a gently curiosity.
"Because he wouldn't harm a hair on anyone's head," she said vehemently. "He's a good boy."
"How much has John told you about his prior conviction?"
She shook her head. "You're not going to trick me, DI Haskell. He didn't do anything wrong."
"He was accused of a very serious crime," Drew said. "He'd been grooming a boy at the school where he worked. When they picked him up, he was found with indecent images of children on his laptop."
Mrs Taylor shook her head, but Harriet could tell that the colour had drained from her cheeks. "He was kind to a boy who'd lost his sister, that's all. And as for images on a computer, John never said anything about that."
"How much does John share with you, Mrs Taylor?" Harriet interjected before Drew could say anything else.
"He tells me everything. I know it's not what you're used to hearing, but it's the truth." She sighed. "When I got sick, he moved back in here with me to make sure I was safe." There was a wariness to her eyes that told Harriet to press the issue.
"I'm sorry to hear you were ill," Harriet said swiftly.
"I had a fall and broke my pelvis," Mrs Taylor said. "After John went to court, and they found him guilty, a couple of local lads came here and broke in."
"Was it connected to John's trial?" There was an edge to Drew's voice.
"They thought they could intimidate me; said they wanted to send John a message, so they pushed me down the stairs. But I won't be bullied by no-one, especially not a bunch of local thugs." There was a level of gritty determination to her voice that took Harriet by surprise. "I called the ambulance myself. And even though I told John I'd be fine to live here on my own, he insisted on moving in."
Harriet had a feeling that her son opting to move home wasn't entirely for altruistic purposes, but she wasn't going to say anything.
"Do you know what John was doing yesterday?" Drew asked, smoothly changing the subject.
"He was at work." There was a smug satisfaction to Mrs Taylor as she settled back into the faded, floral printed armchair.
"John doesn't have a job," Drew said gently. "We checked before we got here."
"That's not true," Mrs Taylor shot back. "He found a job a few months back..."
Drew's smile was sympathetic. "You're correct, he did. But he lost that job two weeks later."
Mrs Taylor sucked in a pained breath. "You're lying. You're just trying to trick me into saying something--"
Drew shook his head. "I'm really not, Mrs Taylor. All I want is the truth. I want to know where John is, so we can have a chat with him. The boy who went missing is the same boy John was accused of grooming."
Drew's words took their toll. "He's supposed to be at work," the other woman said miserably.
"And when is he due back?"
Mrs Taylor's face crumpled. "He should have been back already."
"Would it be possible for my colleague and I to have a look at John's room?" Drew asked.
Mrs Taylor nodded. Her face was chalk white, and she'd wrapped her fingers around the top of her cane as though it could protect her from the truth if only she clung to it hard enough.
"I'll stay here," Harriet said to the unasked question on Drew's face. He nodded and pushed onto his feet, allowing Maz to go first out into the hall. Harriet waited until the sound of their footsteps on the creaky stairs filtered through the house.
"Tell me about John," Harriet said, her gaze never left Mrs Taylor's face.
"He was such a quiet boy," Mrs Taylor said. "Everybody was surprised at how quiet he was. Today they’d call it introverted." She stared at the contestants on the television screen, before she glanced over at Harriet. "Do you have children?"
"No."
"Oh well, I suppose nowadays it's all about getting on in your career. People don't view marriage and children in the same way anymore."
"I'm just not in the right place," Harriet said diplomatically.
"Perhaps you're right. John has only brought me heartache..." She glanced down at her gnarled hands. "He lied to me."
"About his job?"
Mrs Taylor shook her head sadly. "Not just about his job. He lied to me about everything. DI Haskell said there were some images on a computer?"
Harriet nodded. While she hadn't found the opportunity to take a look at John Taylor's criminal record, she could already imagine what she would find there once she did.
"He promised he wouldn't lie to me."
"Why would he make a promise like that?" There was something in Mrs Taylor's tone of voice when she said it that made Harriet think there was more to the statement than met the eye.
The other woman sighed. "His father was a liar. Every second thing from that man's mouth was a lie. It was a compulsion. He lied to me, to John, to everyone who ever met him. One exaggeration after a
nother." Anger tinted her words. "John promised me he wouldn't ever lie to me the way his father did."
"Perhaps he didn't tell you because he didn't want to hurt you?"
Mrs Taylor's laugh when it came was brittle, and it hurt Harriet's ears to hear the sound. "If he didn't want to hurt me, then he wouldn't have done such terrible things."
"Do you think he's capable of taking Oliver Poole?" The question slipped out before Harriet could stop it.
Mrs Taylor shrugged. "Before you told me the truth, I'd have said no."
"But now you're not so sure?"
"How can I be certain of anything anymore? The apple didn't fall far from the tree with him it seems." The sound of a key turning in the back door pulled Harriet's attention from the woman in front of her.
"Is that him now?"
Mrs Taylor shrugged. "Probably... John, is that you?"
"Yeah, Sylvia, sorry I'm late, I--" John Taylor appeared in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking out the light that streamed in from the kitchen behind him. The moment his gaze fell on Harriet, his expression twisted into a grimace of distaste. "What do you want?"
"Mr Taylor, my name is Dr Quinn, I--"
The sound of footsteps on the stairs broke John's concentration, and he swung away from Harriet and turned toward the stairs.
"Hello John, fancy a chat?" Drew's voice was amicable, but Harriet was acutely aware of the underlying tension as he raced down the stairs.
"Fuck this!" John bolted back in the direction he'd come from.
"Don't run, John. You'll only make this worse!" Mrs Taylor shouted, her voice drowned out by the slam of the door. Instinct caused Harriet to move after John. He couldn't be allowed to get away. A young boy's life depended on it. She reached the doorway in time for Drew to block her path.
"You stay!" He barked the order at her, as he manoeuvred past her into the kitchen. Maz clattered down the stairs clumsily and followed hot on Drew's heels. Harriet reached the kitchen in time to see Maz disappearing out the backdoor.
"Is there somewhere John would go? Somewhere he would feel safe?" Harriet turned to face Mrs Taylor, who had shuffled out into the kitchen.
"How would I know? We've established he's been lying to me the whole time. Why would I know where he'd go to ground?"
"Because you know your son, Mrs Taylor."
The older woman glared at Harriet before she shook her head and ambled over to the kettle. Leaning heavily on her cane, she lifted the kettle with one hand and carried it over to the sink. Letting it drop into the sink with a resounding clatter, she pulled off the lid roughly and turned on the tap. Water gushed into the receptacle, as Mrs Taylor stood over it, her gaze fixed on something beyond the window.
"I don't think I ever knew him," she said flatly.
A few seconds later, Maz appeared in the doorway. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes bright from the chase.
"Did you get him?" Harriet asked.
"No. He had a motorbike. Drew followed him in the car."
"And you didn't go with him?" Harriet couldn't keep the irritation from her voice.
"He didn't give me the chance," Maz said sheepishly. "You know what the boss is like. Before I knew what he was doing, he was in the car."
Closing her eyes, Harriet pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose before she turned back to face the woman who was at that moment hobbling back to the counter with the kettle.
"You must know where he'd go," Harriet said. She crossed the kitchen and took the kettle from Mrs Taylor. Setting it down on the base, she turned it on, before facing the indignant woman. "This is far too important. I need you to be honest with me."
"I have been honest." Mrs Taylor's voice crept up, as two spots of colour mounted her cheeks.
"No. You're telling me what you think I want to hear. You want me to believe that you had no idea what your son was capable of, when we both know that's a lie."
"How dare you come into my house and accuse me of lying?" Mrs Taylor tried to slip past Harriet as she spoke. "I've been nothing but cooperative."
"You've known all along what your son was like," Harriet continued. The front door flopped open with a thud, and Drew appeared in the kitchen.
"He got away."
"You can't speak to me like this," Mrs Taylor said.
"You knew what your son was, and you turned a blind eye to it all, just as you did with your husband..." Silence descended on the room as though she'd dropped a grenade into the centre of the room. Cringing inwardly, Harriet knew she had to push onwards. As much as it was distasteful to her to question Mrs Taylor in this way, the fact that there was a young boy missing seemed to warrant a more direct approach to the situation.
There were all sorts of reasons why people tried to pretend they knew nothing of the truth, especially when it came to something as shocking and disturbing as paedophilia. And in some cases it was entirely believable. Nobody wanted to believe the worst of their loved one. But in light of the conviction he’d received there was no way Mrs Taylor hadn't known what was going on where her son was concerned and considering the way she'd spoken about her husband Harriet knew it wasn't such a stretch to think she knew exactly what he'd done to their son. She might not have known at the time, but she certainly at least had her suspicions.
"I think you need to leave," Mrs Taylor said. Her voice shook with emotion, and she gripped the edge of her cane so tightly Harriet wouldn't have been surprised to see it warp beneath her strength.
"Protecting him now, won't fix the past," Harriet said softly.
Mrs Taylor flopped back against the counter as though all the strength had left her body. Before Harriet could move, Drew was there to catch the elderly woman before she collapsed entirely. Wrapping his arm around her, he helped her over to a chair at the table. The woman dropped into the chair and buried her head in her hands.
"I think we should go," Drew said. Harriet caught his eye and was surprised to see his face white with rage.
"If he'd told me, I would have done something," Mrs Taylor said, breaking the silence finally.
"If who'd told you what?" Drew paused.
"John. If he'd told me what his father used to make him do when he was a boy, I'd have put a stop to it. I would have done something..." She trailed off. Her hands shook as she placed them on the table in front of her. "There's a shed. It's over near Darkby Primary school... It's where he'd go to feel safe." Her voice was half-choked with emotion.
"You go, I'll stay," Harriet said.
Tight-lipped, Drew nodded. "Fine." He was gone before Harriet could say another word, leaving her alone in Mrs Taylor's kitchen.
"How do you take your tea?" Harriet asked, moving to the kettle.
"You think I'm a monster, don't you?" Mrs Taylor asked, causing Harriet to turn back.
"No. I think you're a mother who loves her son... no matter what he's done."
Tears gathered in the corners of Mrs Taylor's eyes, causing the blue to brighten. She closed them as she nodded. "God help me, but I do still love him. I never wanted this for him, but I know now it was my fault."
Shaking her head, Harriet reached out and covered the other woman's hand with her own. "This is not your fault."
"I wish I could believe you."
Chapter Twenty-Five
"How do you want to handle this?" DC Green asked. Olivia kept her gaze trained on the papers in front of her. Every time she glanced up at the DC he became flustered and while it was funny to mess with him under normal circumstances, she needed him on his game now. Drew had trusted her with and she wasn't about to let her boss down.
"We've just got two coming in for a chat, a Mr Andrews and a Ms Mayhew."
"And do we know how they knew Oliver Poole?"
Olivia risked a sneaky glance up at her colleague. "Didn't you read the notes I gave you?"
Timothy lifted his gaze to hers, and colour suffused his face. "I didn't get any notes. Shit, when did you leave them there?" He started to turn awa
y, but Olivia shook her head.
"Don't, it's fine. I'll catch you up here. We don't have time now, anyway." She glanced over at the clock on the wall. "They'll be here any minute. Andrews is a guidance counsellor at the school, so he knows all the kids. But by his own admission he knows Oliver quite well because of what happened to his sister." She let her eyes travel down over her own notes. "Oliver's mother said Mr Andrews developed a close rapport with her son. And that only seemed to strengthen after the incident involving John Taylor." She glanced up and found Timothy nodding, his attention locked onto her as though she were the only person left in the world.
"And Ms Mayhew? How does she fit into the Poole boy's life?"
"She's a volunteer with the scouts. Oliver didn't stick with the scouts for very long so I'm not sure what use she'll be, but we still need to talk to her."
DC Green nodded. "Want me to stick the kettle on?"
A genuine smile cracked Olivia's cool facade, and she nodded. "That'd be great."
Colour swept up over Timothy's face for a second time, and he practically bounded away toward the kitchenette. Sighing, Olivia watched him go. Ever since he'd arrived on the team, he'd been somewhat awkward around her, and she hadn't been able to figure out why. But it was rapidly getting to the point where she was going to have to confront him about it. They were a team; they didn't need any kind of weirdness, especially when they were working such an important case.
She caught sight of one of the uniformed officers in the door waving her over. Over his shoulder she could see the guidance counsellor. Mr Andrews was younger than she'd expected him to be; early thirties at most, and his face was smooth and freckled. He wore his greying strawberry blond hair swept over to one side; a bad attempt at covering a prematurely bald spot, she surmised. Sighing, she pushed onto her feet and caught Tim's eye as he worked in the kitchen. He nodded his understanding and carried on with the kettle. It would have been easier if Maz had been doing the interviews with her, at least with him she knew exactly where she stood.
"Please don't shit the bed on me," Olivia muttered as she gave Green one last look before she crossed the office.
Hunting the Silence: The Yorkshire Murders (DI Haskell & Quinn Crime Thriller Series Book 4) Page 15