by Chris Simms
'Mum, I'm picking Alice up. Bringing her home.'
'Where is she?'
'I'll explain later. Please, stay there just a little bit longer. Thanks, Mum.'
He flipped the phone shut, then directed Rick to the Liberal Democrat's office. When they pulled into Gill Bent Road ten minutes later they immediately saw two patrol cars, blue lights flashing in the dimming afternoon light.
Oh my God, what has she done, he thought, opening the car door before it had rolled to a stop. He approached the office, holding up his badge to the uniform standing there.
The constable looked surprised. 'Didn't expect you guys to come out to this. It's only some hysterical witch.'
Jon had him pinned against the doorframe before he knew what he'd done. His voice came deep and low. 'That's my wife.' The officer's eyes were bulging in his head, skin going rapidly purple. Jon released his grip on the man's throat and entered the building. Staff had gathered in the corridor, nervous whispers rippled around him.
In a side room a woman was crouched by their buggy. Holly was inside, a little hand wrapped round the woman's finger. From the end of the corridor he heard a strained moaning, as if someone was struggling with a heavy weight.
With a sense of dread he set off towards it. As he got nearer to the open door he could hear a man speaking, effort twisting his voice. He entered an office strewn with papers. Alice was face down on the floor. A female officer was sitting on her legs, hands clamped over her ankles. A male officer with black hair was crouching at his wife's side, one knee in the small of her back. Alice's arm was bent backwards by his grip, her face pressed into the carpet, strands of hair around her head. 'It's simple, love. You calm down and I'll release my grip. Or do you want us to spray you again?'
Jon felt his vision tunnel again. He grabbed a fist full of the male officer's hair and bent his head back so their eyes met. 'Get your hands off my wife.'
Noise to his side. He turned his head. A third officer. He was lifting an arm, bringing a small can up towards Jon's face. He shot out the heel of his hand. It connected with the man's chest and he flew backwards over a desk. Rick's voice. 'Easy! Easy! We're police officers. Jon, let go. Let go!'
He looked down, saw the officer's face screwed up in pain. He unclenched his hand, strands of hair falling from his fingers as the man sank to the floor. The female officer moved warily back and Alice scrabbled to a sitting position.
With streaming red eyes, she looked round the room. 'Jon? Jon? Is that you?'
He held out his hands and knelt down. 'Shush, Alice, it's
OK.'
Her face softened and he wrapped his arms about her, taking her weight as she collapsed against his chest. He heard Rick's voice again. 'You OK, mate? Can you stand? Good.'
Jon turned to see the officer he'd slammed over the desk getting back on his feet. Keeping one eye on Jon, he leaned down to retrieve his can of pepper spray from the floor. 'You're well out of order. That... that was assault. I'll report this.'
Jon looked at his face. He was in his early twenties, outrage all over his young features. 'Piss off out of it.' He swept his eyes over the other officers. 'All of you. Fuck off.'
The black-haired one got up, massaging his scalp with the fingertips of one hand. 'She had flipped out. She was wrecking the place.'
'So you fucking pepper-sprayed her? Get the fuck out.'
Rick stepped forward. 'It's OK you lot, we'll take it from here. Everything's cool.' He guided them from the room and as they went down the corridor, Jon heard the female officer say,
'Was that his wife?'
The door gently shut and Jon lowered his head, pressing his cheek against his wife's hair. 'Alice? Are you OK?' he whispered.
She didn't answer. He continued to cradle her, listening as her breathing began to slow. The office was a total mess. Files were pulled from shelves, sheets ripped from the binders. What the hell had she been doing?
There were footsteps outside and the door half opened. Rick looked in. 'She OK?' he whispered.
Jon shrugged.
'Holly's down here. I think she's hungry. What can I do?'
'Is there a red bag by the buggy?'
'Yes.'
'There'll be a half full bottle in there and a little pot of formula. Tip it in and heat it in a microwave. About ten seconds, just so it's lukewarm. Got that?'
Rick nodded.
'And you've got my home number in your phone?'
'Yes.'
'Call it. My mum's there. Tell her to ring Doctor Shaw and ask her to come round to our house.'
Jon looked up from his armchair as Dr Shaw entered the room. His mum and younger sister Ellie were on the sofa, Rick was half sitting on the windowsill, sipping from a cup of tea. The curtains were open and the glass in the windows shone black.
Jon started to get up, but the doctor gestured to him to sit down. 'I'm fine.' She placed her bag on the floor, strands of long brown hair falling over her face as she did so. With the tip of a thumb, she pushed them behind one ear. 'You should have rung me weeks ago.'
Jon felt a blush rise in his cheeks. 'I couldn't work it out. She insisted she was just tired. I wasn't sure... is she awake?'
'No. I've given her some sleeping pills. She'll be out until the morning.' Her eyes turned to Holly, who lay in Jon's lap. 'Your baby will have to make do with bottles of formula. I wouldn't normally advise this, but it may be better if Alice gives up breastfeeding all together. She really needs total rest.'
'What about medicines?'
'Well, I think it's best I come back to see her tomorrow. If she needs something to calm her nerves, that's not a problem. As regards anti-depressants, let's talk first. There are many other options before we turn to pills.'
Jon caught a glimpse of his sister's face. Seeing her on the verge of tears brought a lump to his throat.
'Now,' the doctor continued. 'You take care of that gorgeous little girl. I'll be back tomorrow, ten o'clock.'
'Thanks for coming out.'
'No trouble.'
Jon handed Holly to his mum and showed the doctor to the door. When he walked back into the front room, the others were talking. Jon looked at his sister and suddenly thought about his brother, Dave. 'Mum, did anyone else call you today?'
She looked up. 'No. Should anyone have?'
That little bastard, Jon thought. 'No, I just wondered if Dad was OK.'
'Oh, I've talked to him. He's coming round with fish and chips.'
Jon nodded. 'I'll brew up again.'
He wandered into the kitchen and flicked the kettle on. The appliance began to tick as electricity warmed the element inside. Soon it began to rumble quietly, the bubbling sounds picking up in strength to something that resembled a roar before the kettle turned itself off. The noise he'd heard on the moor came back to him and he couldn't keep thoughts of the case from his head. Had it been Field making the sound? He must have written the word Kuririkana on the rocks, but who had scrubbed it off ? Sutton? Surely, if he was first to have discovered his wife's body, the letters would have been plain to see? Something was going on at that farm, no doubt about it.
As Jon poured fresh water into the pot the conviction grew.
'Field killed Sutton's wife? Why? The affair? That was of no concern to Field. His motive is revenge for past wrongs.'
'Talking to yourself, Jon?'
He turned to see Rick standing in the doorway.
'Did I say that out loud?'
Rick nodded. 'You know what they say about that. First signs of... ' His words dried up.
'What if Field killed Rose Sutton to get back at the husband? The message on the rock was for him, that's why he scrubbed it off.'
Rick shook his head. 'Leave it, Jon. There's dozens of officers tracking down Field. Talking of which, I'd better report back too, Summerby will be wondering where I am. Shall I call you tomorrow?'
'But we overlooked Sutton. Did his name go up on that whiteboard?'
Rick said nothing
.
'It didn't. Listen Rick, I think the man could be the key to this. He's hiding something, I'm certain.'
Rick sighed in frustration. 'Jon, drop it. Enough's enough. Your wife is upstairs, remember?'
'Ten minutes with Sutton. That's all I need.'
Rick held up a hand. 'Jon, you've been going on about your wife being exhausted and obsessed. Look in the bloody mirror. You're on your last legs and you're still harping on about the case. That doctor should have been giving sleeping tablets to you as well.'
Jon looked into the other man's eyes. 'I can't drop it.'
'You don't have a choice.'
Jon put the teapot back down. 'I've got a feeling about this, Rick.'
He pushed past his partner and walked into the front room. Holly was fast asleep in his mum's arms. 'Mum, can you give Holly her next bottle? I need to pop out.'
'Pop out? Where?'
His mum and sister were staring at him in disbelief.
'To see someone. I'll be an hour, two at the very most.'
'But Alice is—'
'Alice is asleep, Mum. She won't stir until the morning, you heard Doctor Shaw.'
Ellie's face was showing anger. 'Jon, get a bloody grip. You can't be serious.'
'Listen to her, Jon. She's right.' Rick's voice, behind him. Jon felt his resolve falter. He crossed the room and sat down.
They're right, what was I thinking? But then he caught sight of the windows and the darkness beyond. This thing started on the moors and that's where it'll end. He got back up. 'Two hours. I'll be back in two hours.'
Silence as he crossed the room.
'You coming?' he asked Rick as he reached for the keys to
Alice's car.
His partner shook his head in reply.
Fuck you then, Jon thought, slamming the door behind him. Outside he paused. If you're going to feel like shit, you might as well do it properly. He reached for his cigarettes and jammed one into his mouth. After reversing out on to the street he pushed the dashboard lighter in and hit the accelerator.
The traffic was light as he turned on to the main road. He glanced at the clock. Jesus, ten past seven. The M60 came into view, a trickle of cars gliding along in its orange glow. Jon steered off the slip road and rapidly cut across to the fast lane. Smoke curled up from the cigarette held in his right hand before being sucked out of the crack in the side window.
He kept his thoughts on Sutton, knowing if he didn't guilt would force him from the motorway and back to his house. The turn off for Bredbury shot past and his phone started to ring. Rick's name on the screen. Jon toyed with ignoring it, sure it would only be his partner having a go. He dragged deeply on the cigarette and flipped the phone open.
'Jon, where are you?'
'M60, just past Bredbury.'
'I just got a call from the station. Some uniforms patrolling the banks of the Medlock spotted something on the edge of Oldham Golf Course.'
'Something?'
'They're not sure what. One thought it was a person. The other reckons it was a big cat. He swears it had a tail. Anyway, whatever it was, it raced off across the fairway. The helicopter's been called out, dogs, armed response. Everyone's heading over there.'
Jon kept his foot on the accelerator. The turn-off leading to Saddleworth Moor was up ahead. 'I'm carrying on to Sutton's farm.'
He hung up before Rick could respond.
Thirty-Seven
As he reached the top of the empty moor, the red light of the radio mast came into view. In the blackness behind it a pale light glowed in the sky. Dark clouds slowly shifted and a ghostly moon was revealed. At least it's not full, he thought. Faint light seeped down, coating the moor in a silvery sheen and emphasising the shadows pooled in every dip of the wild landscape.
He pressed on, reaching the other side of the plateau a few minutes later. The road curled down towards Holme and soon the track to Sutton's farm appeared on his left. Jon bumped along it before swinging the vehicle round to the farm buildings. A fence, topped with barbed wire, blocked the way into the courtyard. As he came to a halt, security lights mounted high on the walls switched on.
He got out of the car, immediately aware of the sounds of sheep in the barns. Several lights shone in the farmhouse itself. A gate was built into the fence and an open padlock was hanging from the links. Cautiously, he swung it open. 'Hello? Mr Sutton? DI Spicer, Manchester Police.'
As he rounded the corner of the farmhouse Sutton's border collie, Chip began to bark, a chain tying it to the kennel behind. More security lights came on to reveal Andrew Du Toit. He was standing in the doorway to the farmhouse, a rifle levelled at Jon.
'Fuck, didn't know who you were. We're just locking up for the night.'
As he lowered the weapon, Jon breathed out. Anger replaced his feelings of shock. 'You always walk round with a loaded gun?'
'Mostly.'
'Is Ken here?'
'Inside.'
As Jon walked across the courtyard he noticed that each barn was full of sheep. Fencing had been erected in the gaps between the buildings, barbed wire snaking along the top. This isn't to keep the sheep in, Jon thought. It's to keep something out.
The kitchen was the same as before, except for some sort of monitor set up next to the pair of walkie-talkies. Jon carried through into the front room, the mounted heads of dead animals staring down at him from every wall. Sutton was in the chair by the fire, a rifle with telescopic sights leaning against the wall. His gaze shifted briefly to Jon then returned to the flames. His eyes seemed almost to shut and Jon thought he looked more gaunt and strained since the last time he saw him in that chair.
'Mr Sutton, we need to talk.' The man didn't answer.
Jon sat down opposite him. 'You know more about these killings than you've admitted. I need to know the truth before someone else dies.'
Sutton snorted as Andrew moved across the room and settled on the sofa. Jon pondered which angle to take. There wasn't a lot he could do if Sutton chose to stonewall him. He needed to provoke a reaction. 'Why did you remove the word Kuririkana from the rocks by your wife's body?'
Sutton's half-closed eyelids moved slightly.
'You won't realise this, but the same word was written at the scenes of Derek Peterson's and Trevor Kerrigan's murders. It also appeared at the bottom of a suicide note left by one Danny Gordon.'
Sutton remained impassive.
Jon sat back, injecting a more casual note into his voice. 'Why all these security measures? Shouldn't the guns be kept in their locker when not in use? Are you frightened of something, Mr Sutton?'
His head moved a fraction. Obviously unsettled by Sutton's silence, Andrew Du Toit said, 'We're taking extra precautions because of the animal out there.'
Jon kept his eyes on Sutton. 'Animal or person?' Du Toit looked confused. 'What do you mean?'
Jon saw a chink in Sutton's defence. His nephew didn't know what was really going on. 'Your uncle has reason to fear a person, not an animal. These killings are to avenge past wrongs aren't they, Ken? That's why you scrubbed the word off the rock. You knew its significance. Do you speak Kikuyu then, Mr Sutton? Have you ever been to Africa?'
Du Toit sat forwards. 'Uncle? What's this about. Tell the policeman—'
Sutton's head whipped round and spit flew from his mouth.
'Say nothing!'
His nephew flinched backwards.
That's better, thought Jon. Now we're getting somewhere. The dead animals were staring down and Jon glanced up, as if by glaring back he could force their heads to turn. A stag, antlers branching out high from its head. Several foxes, their mouths partly open as if panting for breath. Deer, sharp horns spiralling up a good two feet. Jon's eyes narrowed. Those weren't deer, they were impala. He ran his eyes along the walls, identifying the head of a warthog in the corner.
'You lived in Kenya, didn't you? When was it?' He began working out the dates. Sutton was about seventy. During the fifties, he would have been in his twent
ies. He married Rose Sutton late. What had Clegg said? When he was well past forty? Was that because he didn't live in Britain during the fifties?
'James Field.' Jon said the words slowly. 'Njama Gathambo.' Sutton's head turned and Jon saw the fury in his eyes.
'That name means something to you, doesn't it? Njama
Gathambo's mum was called Mary.'
Sutton kept his silence. Keep going, Jon thought. You'll hit a nerve soon.
'She was orphaned during the Mau Mau uprising in Kenya. Her mother died in a British detention camp at Kamiti.'
Still he kept his mouth closed.
'Njama has made two metal panther claws. He used them to kill your wife and then he daubed the word “remember” on the rocks with her blood.'
Sutton's fingers dug into the arms of his chair. 'The savages. The filthy, bloody savages. I knew that evil would never die.'
'Uncle, what's he talking about?'
'What did you do in Kenya? Were you in the army?' Sutton shook his head. 'I was a farmer, one of the dozens who the Government encouraged to go out there and make something of that land. We transformed the country, made it a success. But the bloody Kukes weren't happy. They wanted what we'd created. They formed that barbaric sect and started attacking us, creeping out of the jungles, smeared in blood and entrails. Eating their victims.'
Jon sat forwards. 'You fought the Mau Mau?'
'It was a fight to save civilisation itself. And people get hurt in fights. I joined the Kenya Regiment. Later, when the detention camps were built, I worked in one of those.'
'Kamiti? You worked there?'
Sutton raised a finger. 'That was for bloody women. The ones who'd hide bullets in their baby's blankets, then smuggle the ammo to the animals hiding in the jungle.'
'Where did you work then?'
'Hola.'
'The site of that massacre? You tried to deny it ever happened.'
'Massacre?' Sutton gave a cruel smile, eyes glinting in the light from the flames. 'We only killed ten of them. They were the hardcore, the lowest of the low, the ones who wouldn't confess their oaths, no matter what we did.'
'And you did plenty, didn't you?' He looked into Sutton's eyes and saw only malice. You cruel bastard. He wanted to wipe the look from his face. 'Well, the grandson of one of those men you killed is coming for you, right now.'