Hunting the Silence: The Yorkshire Murders (DI Haskell & Quinn Crime Thriller Series Book 4)

by Bilinda P Sheehan

  A few minutes later, Olivia sat across from Mr Andrews. He was taller than she'd thought. His lanky frame didn't fit into the tweed jacket he wore; almost as though he'd bought it when he'd been larger and just hadn't got around to buying a new one.

  She glanced down at her watch, her smile apologetic. "I'm sorry for the delay. My colleague will be here in a minute."

  Mr Andrews’ smile never reached his eyes as he crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair. "I tell my students that punctuality is the height of manners." He clasped his hands on his knee.

  Olivia nodded. "As I said, I'm sorry for the delay, but we are running an investigation here regarding one of your missing students. I've always found that things don't always run to time." There was something about the man that instantly put Olivia's teeth on edge, but she couldn't for the life of her put her finger on what it was.

  DC Green chose that moment to shove open the door to the interview room. His face was flushed and he looked flustered. Definitely not the start Olivia had been hoping for.

  "Sorry," he said, setting three cups down on the table. "I couldn't find the sugar."

  Mr Andrews' smile was a little more brittle than it had been. "Don't worry about it. I just want to help in any way I can."

  "Great," Olivia said, flipping open her notepad. "Can you tell us about your relationship with Oliver Poole?"

  "My relationship?" Mr Andrews sounded a little taken aback. "I wouldn't say we had a relationship."

  "Then what would you call it?" Timothy asked, settling into his seat. The directness of his question took Olivia by surprise, and she cast him a quick glance before she returned her attention to the man in front of them.

  "He was a student of mine. I met him once or twice, but that was it. I wouldn't call that a relationship."

  Olivia made the pretence of flipping through her notebook. "According to Mrs Poole you worked quite closely with Oliver after the incident regarding the school's caretaker."

  Mr Andrews straightened up and fidgeted with the knot on his tie before he brought himself up short. "We were all shocked to learn about that," he said. "I wanted to help Oliver, but he made it clear that he wanted nothing to do with me or the help I offered him."

  "And why do you think that is?" Olivia asked. "And why would Mrs Poole think your connection to her son was more than what you're making it out to be here today?"

  Mr Andrews flushed and reached for the cup of tea Timothy had brought him. "I suppose for a parent in her position she has latched onto every little detail in her son's life in the hope that something will come of it." He raised his gaze to Olivia. "But I assure you, my connection to Oliver is tenuous at best. He came to see me a handful of times and trying to get him to open up, well I may as well have been trying to get blood from a stone for all the good it did." He huffed out a breath and lifted the cup to his lips.

  Olivia dropped back into her chair. "Would you say Oliver was a happy child?"

  Andrews seemed to mull the question over before answering. "He introverted. I wouldn't say he was unhappy, but I always got the opinion that he was still grieving the loss of his sister."

  "Did he tell you that?"

  Andrews smiled, and this time it was genuine. "He didn't have to DC Crandell. I'm a trained counsellor and I'm capable of reading between the lines. He put on a brave face, but deep down Oliver had not dealt with the loss of Amy. And that monster who groomed him, never gave him a chance either."

  "You come from the area, is that correct?" DC Green asked. It was an innocent enough question, but Olivia had the sudden feeling that his delay hadn't been caused by him searching for sugar at all. Had he gone and found the notes she'd left on his desk, after all? And if that were true, then what was he getting at now?

  "Lived here all my life," he said proudly. "Generations of my family have come up in the same area. We can trace our lineage all the way back." His smile grew warmer. "My mother was an amateur genealogist. She went to great pains to create an accurate picture of our family tree."

  "And you'd have been how old twenty years ago?" Green asked, his tone suggested nonchalance.

  "Twelve." Mr Andrews shifted uncomfortably, and Olivia had the sneaking suspicion that he knew exactly where Tim was going with his line of questions.

  "So you remember the case of the children who went missing from the area twenty-odd years ago?"

  "Twenty-one, to be precise," Mr Andrews said coldly. "I'm not sure what that has to do with Oliver's disappearance."

  "You must have known the three children who disappeared then too?"

  "What of it?" Andrews folded his arms over his chest.

  "I'm just trying to get a little background, is all," Tim said, his smile pleasant. "You don't think this feels too much like history repeating itself?"

  "What happened to those children has nothing to do with Oliver," Andrews said, his voice harsh.

  "How can you be so sure?" Green asked. "It seems a little coincidental that four children disappear from the same small village in Yorkshire."

  "Twenty-one years apart," Andrews said. "They're not connected."

  "You sound awfully sure," Olivia said gently. "For all we know the same person who took those children--"

  Andrews was already shaking his head. "It's not possible."

  "And why is that?"

  "Because my parents said it had been dealt with. Everyone at the time knew it."

  It was Olivia's turn to feel confused. "I don't understand. They never found the children?"

  Andrews shrugged. "I was never privy to the story, but I believe my parents and they said the parents of those three poor children got the closure they needed."

  "Why would they say that?" Tim asked. He leaned his elbows on the table and leaned forward.

  "How should I know? If you're so interested, go and ask them. But I doubt you'll get much from them on the subject. I came here to give you my statement regarding Oliver Poole and I think I've done just that." Andrews stood abruptly, causing the untouched tea in the cups to slop over the sides and out onto the table. "I'm sorry I can't help you further, but I really think I'm wasting both of our time here."

  "Mr Andrews," Olivia said, trying to keep her tone level. "There are a few more--"

  The other man held up his hand. "I don't know anything about Oliver's disappearance. If I did, I would tell you. And if I knew who took him, I would definitely tell you. The only thing I can say is that the monster who targeted Oliver to begin with, I'd look to him. He might have said nothing happened and Oliver wasn't in any fit state to dispute it, but we all know that's simply not true."

  Tim opened his mouth, but Olivia gave him a subtle shake of her head and he stopped. "Thank you for your time," Olivia said, pushing onto her feet. She held out her hand and Andrews took it, his grasp sweaty and limp.

  He left without a backwards glance. "What did you make of that?" Tim asked, as soon as he was out of earshot.

  "He was a little cagey regarding the past," Olivia said thoughtfully. "But he's not wrong when he says they likelihood of this case being linked to Oliver's disappearance is little more than coincidence."

  "Come on, you didn't think what he said about the parents wasn't weird?"

  Olivia nodded and chewed the top of her pen. "It's worth having a chat with them. If only because of the coincidence." Glancing down at her watch, Olivia pushed onto her feet. "I'll see if Ms Mayhew is here."

  Tim nodded. "If she knows as little as Mr Andrews then these interviews were a complete bust."

  Olivia didn't argue with him. But in an investigation like this background interviews were a lot like panning for gold in that everything helped. While Andrews hadn't told them anything particularly useful, there were still traces, and she wasn't going to dismiss them as a waste of time just yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Sliding into the driver's seat, Drew waited for Maz to hop in before he gunned the engine.

  "Should I call for back-up?" There was no esca
ping the edge of excitement in Maz's voice.

  "We don't even know if he's going to be there," Drew said thoughtfully as he manoeuvred the car around the narrow roads. "We might be better off waiting to see if there's a hit on the partial plate I called in. We can always check the school."

  Maz slumped back against his seat. "I suppose."

  The wheel shuddered beneath Drew's hands as the tyres slid on an icy patch on the road. Swearing broadly, he clung to the wheel as got the car back on track. A few moments later, they entered the heart of the village. The Christmas lights strung overhead glittered and blinked in the evening light. From the corner of his eye, Drew watched Maz grip the door as the car took a corner a little faster than he'd anticipated.

  Cresting the hill, Drew spotted the primary school up ahead. There was no sign of John Taylor's bike, but that didn't mean he wasn't hiding somewhere on the grounds. Drawing to a halt, Drew killed the engine.

  Maz was already out of the car and surveying the scene. "With all due respect, guv, I really think we should call in for back-up. What if the Poole boy is here, and--"

  Drew nodded. "Fine. You're right. It's better to be safe." If Maz thought he was going to hang around and wait for the uniformed officers to arrive, then he was sorely mistaken. Maz was right about one thing, if Taylor was responsible for the abduction of the Poole boy, then hanging around here would only give him the opportunity to harm the boy. And that wasn't something Drew could allow.

  "Wait here," Drew said.

  "But--"

  "DS Arya, just do as I ask. If he comes back this way, then I need to know about it."

  Maz looked apoplectic, but he nodded. "Right." There was a mutinous tone in his voice that irritated Drew, but he didn't have time to hang around and argue the correct protocol.

  Drew hopped the low gate of the school and took off towards the side of the small squat grey building. The evening light had begun to close in around him, and sleet was drifting down from the sky, coating the ground in an icy slick which made every step treacherous. Rounding the corner of the school, Drew spotted tracks across the grass at the back of the building. Excitement thrummed in his veins as he scanned the area before he set off in the direction the tracks led.

  He followed them up to the back of the school where there was a large bottle green shed tucked away. Taylor's bike was propped up against the side of the building, and Drew could see light from beneath the bottom of the door. Sliding his phone from his pocket, he called Maz and in hushed tones told him what he'd discovered. With his free hand, Drew pulled his cuffs from his belt and approached the shed cautiously.

  "Mr Taylor, John, my name is DI Haskell, I just want to have a chat with you."

  There was a muffled noise from within the shed, followed by a half strangled noise that caused the hairs on the back of Drew's neck to stand to attention. Reaching the door, he tugged it open and found John Taylor suspended from a beam in the middle of the building. His legs kicked and thrashed beneath him, hands clawing at the rope wrapped securely around his throat. Taylor's face was turning an unnatural colour, blotchy and purple as he was slowly strangled by the ligature.

  "Fuck!" Drew swore vehemently as he dropped the cuffs and crossed the small floor space. The stool which Taylor had stood on was knocked aside, and Drew wasted no time in standing it upright. Grabbing Taylor's legs, Drew fought with the flailing man who seemed determined to remain suspended from the rope.

  He finally managed to get Taylor's feet on the stool, and he glanced up at the man who towered above him. "What the fuck are you doing?" Drew's breathing was ragged, adrenaline zinging in his veins as he kept the large man steady. "Take the rope off."

  Taylor shook his head, but Drew was pleased to see his colour slowly returning to something that resembled a normal hue as he kept him in place. "Leave me be."

  "I just want to talk to you," Drew said, exasperation colouring his voice.

  "Well, I don't want to speak to you lot. I know what you're going to do, and I'm not going to prison."

  "Nobody said you were," Drew said. "Look, come down so we can talk about this sensibly."

  Taylor shook his head and made a futile attempt to kick Drew away. "No. I'm not going to prison. I didn't touch that boy, but you lot never listen. I can't go to prison. I won't let you send me there."

  "Come down, please. We can talk about this."

  "Guv?" Maz's voice broke through the panic. Relief flooded through Drew as he turned in time to see the other man appear in the doorway.

  "Help me."

  Maz moved into the space and reached up to steady Taylor, allowing Drew to push up onto a box. Taylor tried to push him away. It took a couple of minutes to get organised, but Drew managed to pull the rope from Taylor's neck. They collapsed onto the ground in a heap of limbs.

  "Fuck!" Drew huffed, sucking in large mouthfuls of cold air. "Get him up. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." Drew pulled in a deep breath as he sought to get his heart rate back under control.

  Between them, they managed to get Taylor onto his feet. The other man seemed to be more irritated rather than injured, but the last thing Drew wanted was to find a negligence case on his hands if Taylor turned up later with some mysterious injuries. "We need to get an ambulance here," he said, urging Taylor over to the edge of the room where he could sit.

  John Taylor tried to shrug free, but after everything Drew was in no mood to be denied. "Sit. Maz get an ambulance out here."

  Taylor took the hint and dropped onto the stool he'd used only moments before in his attempt to end his life. He rubbed at the red ring around his neck. The skin was reddened and angry looking. Drew glanced away. The sight of the bruising which was beginning to appear brought back too many unpleasant memories that he would much rather not be reminded of.

  "Why would you do that?" Drew asked, pausing in front of Taylor.

  "Why not? Like I said, it's not as though you'll actually listen to me." Taylor’s gaze strayed to the rickety floorboards under foot and he shifted on the stool. The squeal of its legs as it slid across the damp, moss covered ground hurt Drew’s ears, but he ignored it.

  "Why wouldn't we listen?"

  "I know what you think of me." There was a hoarseness to Taylor's voice as he fixed his gaze on the wall opposite. "I know you think I'm scum."

  Maz snorted derisively, and Drew shot him a withering glare. "We just wanted to speak to you, John. Nobody was accusing you of anything."

  Taylor's laughter was brittle, and he glanced up at Drew. "You really believe that, don't you?"

  "Why wouldn't I? I'm a man of my word."

  "Given half a chance, you'd string me up, just like everyone else would."

  "It's not my job to pass judgement, John. I'm just looking for Oliver Poole."

  "And your first thought was that I had him?" The colour leeched from Taylor’s face.

  Drew opened his mouth to argue, but Taylor cut him off before he could get a word out. "Don't lie to me. There's no point. You thought when you followed me here that you'd find the boy? Come on, at least admit that I'm right."

  Shaking his head, Drew glanced down at the oil stained floor. "It crossed my mind."

  "Hah, see that wasn't so hard now, was it?"

  "But you can understand why we'd want to talk to you?" Sirens split the air, apprehension spiralled in Drew's gut as he realised he was rapidly running out of time to ask Taylor all the questions he had. And if he did have Oliver, then Taylor going into hospital would be a delay they could ill afford.

  "Aye, I can understand it. Don't mean I have to like it."

  "Do you know where he is?" Drew blurted the question out and watched as Taylor's expression closed.

  "I never hurt him."

  "But do you know where he is, John?" The sirens grew closer, and the cold fingers of dread gripped the back of Drew's neck. "
Please."

  "I don't know where the lad is. I haven't seen him, not since..." Taylor trailed off as Maz popped his head around the door.

  "Sir, ambulance is here."

  "Since when?"

  "Since before I was arrested. I didn't touch him then, neither. Not that you lot would believe me."

  Paramedics in high-vis jackets appeared in the door carrying their bags of medical equipment.

  "Fine." Drew let go the breath he'd been holding onto.

  "You believe me then?" Taylor asked, as the paramedics began setting up.

  "You said you haven't seen him, what choice do I have?" There was a hard glint in Taylor's eyes as Drew spoke, which sent a chill down his spine. Taylor might not have Oliver, but there was something he wasn't telling Drew, and that made him uncomfortable. "But when you're done in hospital, you and I are going to have a chat."

  Taylor shrugged, his expression one of ease as though Drew had just wished him a merry Christmas. Drew left the paramedics to settle the blood pressure cuff on the other man. He stepped outside the shed, one eye on the proceedings taking place inside.

  "Do you really think Taylor had nothing to do with Oliver's disappearance?" Maz asked, his voice hushed.

  "Honestly, I have no idea," Drew said, the strain of the case evident in his voice. "But right now, all I can do is take Taylor's word for it. At least where that's concerned."

  "So we just sit around twiddling our thumbs, and in the meantime Oliver is god-knows-where?" Anger laced Maz's words, which took Drew by surprise.

  "Nobody is going to sit idly around, Maz. In the meantime we get a warrant for Taylor's communications, his computers, his house. I want you to go to the hospital with him, make sure everything is above board. "

  "We don't have a lot of evidence to get a warrant."

  "We'll get it," Drew said, determination hardening his resolve as he watched the paramedics lead Taylor from the shed and back in the direction of the ambulance.

  “There’s something he isn’t telling us, and I want to know what it is.”