Gallows Drop

by Mari Hannah

  ‘Relax, Colin. I’m not trying to trip you up or cause you any undue anxiety. From where I’m standing, Atkins is handing you enough of that. I find it curious, that’s all. Worrying too, if you want the truth.’

  ‘He just said it would be best if I went,’ Grant said finally.

  ‘That’s all?’ Kate took in his nod, disappointed but not surprised. Atkins was a slippery customer. He wasn’t daft. He’d say nothing to incriminate himself in what he knew was potentially a disciplinary offence. Another black mark against his character would finish him. ‘I’m not trying to put words in your mouth, Colin. Would it be fair to say that you suspected he might know the family?’

  ‘It crossed my mind.’ He could see she wanted more. ‘I can think of no other reason,’ he added.

  ‘Did you challenge him on it?’

  ‘Yes, and he said he had other matters to attend to.’

  ‘You weren’t buying that?’

  ‘Not entirely.’ Grant stopped chewing. ‘Every SIO is busy, but in my mind the boy’s parents were top priority. Nothing should have been more important. His actions were reprehensible.’

  ‘I agree.’ Kate still felt his anxiety. She owed him an explanation. ‘You’ll have worked out that Atkins and I have history. Whatever you think you’ve witnessed between us, I give you my word that my line of questioning isn’t a ploy to get even with him for something that happened in the past.’

  ‘I did wonder.’

  ‘Of course you did. Had I been you, I’d have drawn the same conclusion. I want you to know that my concern is purely professional. If it turns out that Atkins knew the victim and/or his family, it might jeopardize a conviction when the case comes to court.’ Kate shoved her plate away, meal half-eaten, her appetite shot. ‘Eat up,’ she said. ‘This conversation will go no further. I’m on leave the day after tomorrow. I’ll sleep on it.’ Fifteen minutes later, she paid the bill and dropped him back at the morgue.

  19

  By day, Otterburn Mill was a unique tourist attraction, a heritage centre housing antique mill equipment and spinning wheels preserved inside an original weavers’ building, tenterhooks retained in the open air. Now a retail outlet, visitor centre and cafe, the former woollen mill sat on the edge of the Northumberland National Park, accessible by footpath from the village.

  In the adjacent field, Beth Casey was sitting in the dark at a picnic bench, bleating sheep the only sound beyond that of cars passing along the main road a couple of hundred metres away. She often went there with Chris to get away from his mother, who was constantly on their case, refusing to allow them time alone, making them go downstairs and watch TV on the pretext of protecting Beth. From whom? she wondered. Her son? Herself? The woman gave them no peace.

  Not like her mum.

  Thinking about her made Beth feel instantly sad. It was unlikely she’d beat the cancer. They both knew that. It had been too far advanced when first diagnosed. The thought of losing her was intolerable. Having lost his father to the disease some years ago, Chris had been a rock throughout, someone she found she could rely on when things got tough. It was the glue that bound them together, as if he alone understood what she was going through. Beth doubted she’d ever come to terms with it.

  She stiffened as a figure approached out of the darkness. It took a moment before she realized it was Chris. As he came closer, she noticed that his hands were pushed deep into his pockets, shoulders hunched against the evening chill. Closer still and she saw that he was breathless. He’d run all the way. Despite the cold night air, he had no coat. He’d probably sneaked out of the window rather than use the stairs, avoiding a confrontation with his mother, twenty questions on where he was going at this late hour.

  Wouldn’t be the first time.

  Batting away irritating midges as they landed on moist skin, Chris straddled the bench, his mood matching the inky sky above their heads. He was angry. Beth could feel it rather than see it. For a moment, he stared into space, deep in his own miserable thoughts. Eventually, the tranquillity of their surroundings kicked in and he relaxed. He always did without his mother in his face, smothering him.

  Couldn’t the daft cow see that?

  Taking hold of Beth’s hand, he stroked her fingers, a touch so gentle it surprised her and brought tears to her eyes. Leaning in, she rested her head against his chest, a steady heartbeat pulsating through his thin shirt. He put an arm around her, the first physical comfort she’d received from anyone since hearing of Elliott’s death.

  When she spoke her voice was hardly audible. ‘I can’t believe I’m never going to see Elliott again.’

  ‘Me either. I just shoved him, Beth.’

  ‘I know.’ She hugged him closer.

  ‘He was fine when we left him.’

  ‘Well, he’s not any more.’ Beth lifted her head. They both knew that ‘fine’ was overstating it. She pulled away. ‘I’m not blaming you. I saw what went on . . .’ She paused. ‘I also saw Elliott hanging from Winter’s Gibbet.’

  ‘What? How?’

  ‘There was a photograph on my dad’s computer.’

  ‘Shit! That must’ve been gross.’ He stroked her hair.

  ‘It was. You’ve got to speak to my dad, Chris.’

  He let go of her hand. ‘I told you, I can’t!’

  ‘Why not? You did nothing wrong. Everyone who was there knows what happened—’

  ‘Yeah, like they’ll stick up for me.’

  ‘I will!’

  ‘Well you would, wouldn’t you?’

  He had a point. And that’s exactly what her old man would be saying. She tried hard to make Chris feel better. ‘My dad might be an arse sometimes, but he knows I don’t lie. It’ll be ten times worse for you if you don’t make the first move. His team are hunting for witnesses as we speak.’

  Chris didn’t react. Didn’t give a stuff.

  ‘They’ll be looking for me too,’ Beth said.

  She wondered how far she dared push him. Couldn’t imagine what it would be like when Chris and her father came face-to-face. She knew it had to happen, and it would sooner or later. She’d seen them both at their worst, slinging allegations around, testosterone-filled rage that hurt her feelings and kept her awake at night. The two of them in the same room wouldn’t be pretty. And when her father learned that she had also been there, there would be hell to pay. He’d hit the roof.

  Chris finally acquiesced. ‘I’ll speak to him.’

  ‘Really?’

  He nodded. ‘Just don’t complain when the shit hits the fan.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Relief flooded through her. ‘Thank you.’

  He took in a deep breath. ‘There’s something I need to tell you first.’

  His voice was drowned out by thumping music from a car radio at full volume. The vehicle it was coming from circled the empty car park twice. When it reached the far end, the driver did a handbrake turn and came the other way, the headlights like menacing eyes in the darkness. Grabbing her hand, Chris tightened his grip as the vehicle stopped at the gate leading to the field. They didn’t need to see inside the car to know who it was or what his cronies were capable of.

  The occupants got out, slamming doors that echoed against the mill buildings behind them. Phone torches were illuminated, bright lights moving in their direction like a police SWAT team. Beth stood up and took a step away, wanting to run. Chris got to his feet too, keeping hold of her, pulling her close.

  ‘Oi! A word.’ Liam Gardner’s voice cut through the silence.

  Chris didn’t move. His eyes were on the approaching group, one figure a metre or two ahead of the rest. Gardner was backlit by torchlight, a hoody pulled up over his head. It made him seem even more intimidating than he did in the daylight. Fury erupted inside Beth as he came to a halt a few metres in front of them.

  ‘Piss off,’ Chris said, undaunted. ‘Haven’t you caused enough trouble?’

  ‘Meaning what?’

  ‘I think you know, or you wouldn’t be
here.’

  ‘You saying Elliott was my fault?’

  ‘I’m saying nowt.’ Chris took a step forward, a protective left hand guiding Beth to a position behind him, out of immediate danger. ‘Get in the car, Beth. It’s time you went home. I’ll handle this.’

  Frozen in fear, she refused to leave.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘Go! Go on.’

  As Chris let go of her, Beth slid her hand inside her coat pocket, feeling for her phone, wishing she’d taken her father’s advice and carried a personal attack alarm. He insisted that a loud noise might put an offender off if there was any chance of getting caught. She’d argued that they were sod-all use in the countryside. You could scream your head off and never be heard.

  As she made a move towards her car, Gardner stepped into her path deliberately, barring her way. He was so close she could smell fags and alcohol on his breath. They had been this close before once. The memory made her recoil.

  Chris squared up to him. ‘You into bullying girls now? Leave her out of this.’

  ‘She’s staying put.’

  ‘I said let her go. She’s not the one you want.’

  Gardner turned to his pals. ‘He said she’s not the one we want.’

  They all laughed.

  ‘She’s the one I want,’ one of them yelled.

  ‘Put your dick away!’ Gardner turned back to Chris. ‘You wouldn’t be setting me up now, would you?’ Their foreheads were almost touching. Prize bulls locking horns. ‘’Cos someone is.’

  The sound of police sirens ended the exchange.

  ‘They’re playing your song,’ Chris said.

  ‘Either of you dob me in to the law for fighting with Elli, you’ll be joining him in the morgue, so keep it shut.’ Message delivered, Gardner shoved Beth away, got in his vehicle and drove off at speed. She slid her arm around Chris. This wasn’t finished yet.

  20

  Still determined to have another go at getting Matthew Willis to talk, Kate called Hank at the crack of dawn and asked him to head back to Elsdon in the hope of catching their witness before he left for work. She then set off for the station, arriving just in time to see Carmichael emerging from her car, a copy of The Gallows Tree in her hand.

  While Lisa logged in to her PC, Kate made a strong pot of coffee, poured them both a cup then sat down in the incident room. On the way in, she’d been mulling over her conversation with Grant. It had been unfair to question him last night and she intended to apologize for it. Certain in her own mind that Atkins was failing to disclose knowledge of the Foster family, she required more than corroboration, she needed hard evidence to substantiate her claim. Without it, there was nothing she could do.

  With so many ends to tie up before she went on leave, the Atkins issue continued to compete for space in her head among a long list of other jobs. The fact that Lisa and Hank had both picked up on the fact there was a history between Kate and the SIO had her questioning her motive in trying to get him removed from the case. Was she digging because of the bad blood between them or acting for the good of the investigation? Staring at her reflection in the blackened window, she asked herself why she cared when it clearly wasn’t her problem. The sooner she could piss off on holiday, the better she’d like it.

  Kate’s team was hard at work when Atkins finally arrived at eight forty-five, quarter of an hour ahead of the scheduled briefing. When it began, he took the floor like a lead actor on stage, theatrically and full of self-importance, repeating every single scrap of intelligence she’d listed in the report she’d emailed him at midnight, almost word for word. To ensure that nothing got lost in translation, she’d sent a blind copy to every member of her team. Atkins’ grandstanding therefore made him look like a total prick.

  He’d be furious if he knew.

  After fifteen minutes watching him strut up and down like a madman barking orders to a classroom of schoolchildren, Kate caught Carmichael’s disinterested eye in a sea of bored faces. In spite of her own concerns over Atkins’ ability to lead a murder investigation, Kate tried desperately not to show contempt for the man or undermine his position.

  He wasn’t making it easy.

  She could tell from Carmichael’s expression that she had something significant to say. She was nervous of the detective in charge, hesitant about interrupting: uncharacteristic behaviour for a police officer usually brimming with ideas and keen to contribute. Kate used her eyes to point in his direction, urging Carmichael to say her piece and put a stop to his gratuitous tirade, for her own sanity and the benefit of everyone present.

  If anyone could, Lisa could.

  ‘Boss?’ Carmichael raised her hand. ‘I have some important news to share.’

  Atkins shot her down. ‘I’ll let you know when your views are required, DC . . . ?’

  ‘Carmichael.’

  ‘Well, Carmichael, I’ll be the one to decide what is and is not important in this case. We’ll have your input when I’m done and not before.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Blinking away the embarrassment of a public reprimand, Lisa’s eyes shifted to Kate, almost an accusation. Like the rest of the squad, Carmichael was dreading the next three weeks under Atkins’ command. Guiltily, Kate thought of the suitcase lying on the spare bed at home, still empty, and the early start she’d promised Jo she would make in the morning. Already they had exchanged several texts. Jo had planned a million things to do while they were on vacation. Although desperate for a break, Kate hated the idea that she was leaving her motivated squad in the hands of a moron, someone capable of quashing team spirit, sending morale into a tailspin, splintering the solid team she’d spent years fostering.

  Divide and conquer had always been his watchword.

  ‘Now it’s your turn.’ Atkins was addressing the team collectively, scanning the room expectantly for detectives eager to raise outstanding issues or share intelligence he might be unaware of.

  Kate waited for the explosion.

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Is there anything further I should know?’

  His jaw dropped as every single hand went up simultaneously, then went down again without anyone volunteering a response. The team were blanking him out, sending him a message that he wouldn’t forget in a hurry. Colin Grant was almost beside himself.

  ‘Carmichael?’ Atkins’ focus fell on Lisa. ‘You had something to say?’

  ‘No, sir.’ She met his gaze. ‘I don’t think so.’

  Faced with such defiance, the SIO was forced to climb down. He could argue until he was blue in the face with Kate, but without the support of her team he’d be helpless. It was impossible to conduct a murder enquiry on his own – and well he knew it.

  Kate’s eyes found the floor, a smile flitting across her lips.

  Atkins had picked on Carmichael, believing her to be the path of least resistance – the officer he considered more biddable than the rest. He was a mile wrong. Kate raised her head, just as he realized he’d made a bad choice. In order to get the team back on board, Atkins backpedalled swiftly, offering a weak apology to Carmichael.

  She made him wait before accepting it. ‘The victim’s brother Adam Foster is absent without leave,’ she eventually said.

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since I raised my hand a moment ago.’

  ‘I meant—’

  ‘I know what you meant, sir.’ Lisa’s smile could melt steel. Under her spell, Atkins mellowed a touch. Satisfied that she had his undivided attention, Carmichael delivered her important news: ‘I just got an email from his commanding officer. Adam has been missing four days.’

  21

  Proud of her team for standing up for themselves, Kate left the office to hook up with Hank in Elsdon. He was coming out of the Bird in the Bush as she drove round the corner at eleven o’clock. Pulling over, she wound the window down. ‘Bit early to be drinking, isn’t it, even by your standards?’ Before he could answer, she closed the window and climbed out of the car.

&nbs
p; ‘Get out of bed the wrong side?’ He was grinning.

  ‘Don’t feel like I’ve been to bed, to be honest with you.’

  ‘Well cheer up, you’re on leave tomorrow. Are you all packed?’

  ‘No, I’ll do it later. I’ve so much to do, I shouldn’t really be here.’

  ‘If you’d have gone off on Friday like normal people, you wouldn’t be—’

  ‘Thanks for stating the obvious.’ Kate was smiling. ‘I had it in mind to make it easy on you. It seems I made the wrong choice. It won’t happen again. I take it there’s no news?’

  ‘Of Willis? Nah.’ Hank scratched his ear. ‘I missed him by minutes.’

  ‘Someone saw him this morning?’

  ‘No. There’s smoke coming out of his chimney though, so I know he was there earlier.’

  ‘Unless he’s in and not answering the door.’

  ‘You want me to take another look?’

  ‘No, leave it.’ Kate swept hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. ‘What else have you been up to?’

  ‘A lot, considering I’m on light duties.’

  ‘Light ale duties you mean.’

  He made a face. ‘I was thirsty!’

  Kate pointed up the road. ‘They serve tea in the village cafe.’ She paused, considering. ‘Don’t suppose you’ve come across any army personnel on your travels?’

  ‘Retired or serving?’

  ‘Serving.’

  ‘Thought you said this wouldn’t involve the military.’

  ‘That was yesterday. Adam Foster went AWOL from his base in Germany four days ago. Atkins is checking ports and airports. No results yet, as far as I know.’ Kate glanced up at the smoking chimney on Willis’s house.

  Hank followed suit.

  ‘What?’ he said.