CHAPTER ELEVEN
‘Stefan Deyna killed her,’ Hannah’s voice was flat and lifeless. It was as if Terri’s murderer had cut out her heart, leaving a vacuum to be filled with bitter despair. ‘He couldn’t have her, so he made sure nobody else could.’
‘We’ll soon have the bastard under lock and key,’ Fern promised. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’
They were back at HQ in Kendal, in Fern’s office, with its Lauren-defying Cluttered Desk Policy. A DC in Fern’s team had driven them from Lancaster; Fern had insisted on arranging for someone to pick up Hannah’s car. She’d turned a deaf ear to Hannah’s protests that she was fit to drive.
During the journey back up the motorway, Fern had described the discovery of the body at Ravenbank. Terri had been bludgeoned to death, and her face covered with a rough blanket. She’d been found by a small party of locals; together with two visitors, of all people, Daniel Kind and his sister. Within minutes, interviews revealed that Terri was being stalked by her former lover. Fern, who was familiar with Ravenbank and its inhabitants from the Shenagh Moss inquiry, didn’t only have Robin Park’s word for it; all the neighbours knew Stefan was refusing to let Terri go. She’d told everyone about his obsession.
There was more. Already Fern’s team had picked up a reported sighting of Stefan’s hired Ford Fiesta, on the narrow road bordering Ullswater’s east bank, at one o’clock that morning. He’d nearly crashed into a Mercedes coming in the opposite direction, not long after midnight. He’d clipped the wing mirror of the other car, but rather than stopping to inspect the damage, and exchange insurance details, had sped off in the direction of Pooley Bridge. Motive and opportunity were in the bag. With a known prime suspect, all Fern needed was to find him.
As the SIO in charge of the case, she had a thousand and one things to do in the first twenty-four hours after the crime, those ‘golden hours’ on which so much depended. But she’d been determined to break the news to Hannah in person. It wasn’t solely a matter of kindness. As Terri’s oldest friend and confidante, Hannah might possess information that could help to make a murder charge stick. Sure enough, Hannah had painted fresh detail into the picture formed by talking to people at Ravenbank, including the story of the missing cat.
‘So Stefan packed his bags and buggered off?’
Fern nodded. ‘In a tearing hurry, by the look of things. He rented a bedsit in Patterdale, and moved in after he and Terri split up. The house is owned by a nice old couple who live on the premises. See no evil, hear no evil types. He left sometime after midnight, owing a month’s rent. They were fond of him, and hadn’t pressed for the cash. Needless to say, he didn’t supply a forwarding address. His car’s already been found abandoned in a side road near Oxenholme Station.’
Oxenholme, on the outskirts of Kendal, lay on the West Coast main line. You could reach central London within three hours on a Pendolino train.
‘Presumably he’ll have headed south rather than to Scotland?’
‘I guess so. We don’t yet know whether he bought a ticket this morning, but that won’t take long to confirm. The first train of the day arrived at Euston around nine in the morning, so he’s a few hours ahead of us. London’s an ideal place to hide, but we’re checking out people he might be acquainted with down there. Hot on the trail, trust me.’
With Terri gone, there was nobody else in the world right now whom Hannah trusted as much as Fern. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed. Strange to think that she’d never again hear that raucous laugh, see that conspiratorial wink, feel a hand tugging her sleeve, urging her to do something against her better judgement. You only live once, was Terri’s motto. Too true, love, too fucking true.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah.’ A barefaced lie, and they both knew it.
‘Will you let me organise that cup of tea and biscuit for you?’
‘No, thanks, I’m not sure I can keep anything down right now.’
Fern gave her a hard stare. ‘You’re not on some kind of guilt trip, are you?’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘I know what you’re like. You take responsibility. Including when it isn’t yours to take. Admirable fault, some would say. Load of bollocks, in my book. You weren’t Terri’s keeper, you were her mate. I knew her too, remember. She wasn’t someone you could ever tell what to do. Don’t start torturing yourself because you didn’t save her from some sicko who couldn’t take no for an answer.’
Hannah gazed through the window at the cascade of rain. Fern’s office commanded a view of the force’s overflowing dustbins; a tiny act of malice on Lauren’s part the last time rooms had been reallocated. In the ACC’s eyes, Fern committed the dual sin of being not only highly effective, but also a fellow woman officer – and therefore a potential competitor. She hadn’t even given Lauren any chance to kick her into a career cul-de-sac such as cold case work. Hannah suspected that Fern frightened the ACC. Buried within that large, jolly body was an inner core of tungsten. Fern had the ruthlessness to go for the kill, whatever the consequences.
Stefan had better beware.
‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘No suppose about it. I’m always right. Question is, are you going to pay attention, or simply pretend to agree while quietly hating yourself for no earthly reason?’
‘Don’t worry about me.’
‘I don’t want you to be alone tonight. I’d invite you to stay at mine, you’re more than welcome. But Christ knows what time I’ll get back home. You’d be better with someone.’
‘I need to visit Marc. No need for your eyes to pop out of your head, we’re not getting back together, quite the reverse. Last night he was involved in a car crash.’
‘For crying out loud, whatever next? What happened?’
Hannah had thought out her story. The truth, but much less than the whole truth, that was always the best plan. ‘He came round to Undercrag last night. Let’s just say it didn’t go well. He fucked off in a temper, and next thing I heard, he’d wrapped his car round a tree. But he’ll live. The damage he’s done to himself sounds pretty superficial.’
‘Oh God, what a plonker.’ Fern shook her head. ‘First that, then Terri. No wonder you look so frazzled.’
‘You’re so good for my morale.’ Hannah had glimpsed her pale, grief-stricken features in the rear-view mirror on the way here. She’d have made a suitable model for Edvard Munch in one of his bleaker moods.
‘Sorry, but that’s my point. When you’ve finished at the hospital, you don’t want to go back to that bloody great house in the middle of nowhere. You could do with some company. And you ought to take a spot of leave, while you’re at it.’
‘Not a good time. Might come back and find I don’t have a desk, let alone an office.’
‘Not even Lauren would do that to you.’
‘You reckon?’
‘She has nothing to gain for crucifying a popular officer for no good reason. Take some time out, you could do with it.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ Hannah said, wondering if she’d ever felt less popular.
‘Ever realised you do too much thinking for your own good?’ Fern levered herself out of her chair. ‘Seriously, Hannah, give yourself a break. Otherwise, you’ll fall to pieces. Sorry to be blunt, but someone needs to say it. Now I really must hit the road. I’ll keep you posted. The minute we arrest him, you’ll be the first to know.’
Hurrying down the corridor back to her office, keen to have a few minutes to herself to get her head straight, she ran into Maggie Eyre. The DC’s face was an open book, as usual. Her frantic sympathy said louder than any words that everyone knew the DCI’s best friend was dead.
‘DS Wharf is looking for you, ma’am. He’s heard that DCI Larter brought you back from Lancaster.’ Maggie’s voice faltered. ‘It’s shocking news about …’
Hannah touched her arm. ‘Thanks, Maggie. Let’s hope the man who did it is nicked before the day is out, eh?’
As the thought entered her mind, she banished it. Fern was right. The past was for learning from, not for living in.
‘I suppose there’s no doubt that Stefan killed her?’ Greg said.
‘Not in my mind. I’ve never known any man scare Terri before.’
‘Yeah, but Fern Larter won’t have ruled out other lines of enquiry.’
‘Such as?’ Hannah frowned. ‘Terri wasn’t someone who made enemies.’
‘Didn’t you tell me once she’d been married three times? Makes me look like a novice in the matrimonial stakes. Even if she never knew it, she won’t have been everyone’s cup of tea.’
Hannah shrugged. ‘Terri was no saint, but that doesn’t mean anyone else wanted her dead. She wasn’t at daggers drawn with any of her exes.’
‘How can you be sure? They’ll have to be questioned.’
‘Not as easy as you may think. One moved to London, another emigrated to Crete, the third died last year of liver failure. Take it from me, Stefan’s the man. He was spotted in the vicinity of the murder scene, and promptly did a runner. The facts speak for themselves.’
‘Okay, okay.’ He was ready to change the subject. ‘I hate to say this, but you need to take a break. You look totally knackered.’
‘That’s twice in ten minutes I’ve been reminded what an ugly old hag I’ve become.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ he said. ‘But for a day or two, you need to look after yourself. Have you got anyone to stay with?’
Hannah’s eyes narrowed. Was Greg about to make her an offer she would have to refuse?
‘I’m sorted, thanks.’
He studied her, as if conducting a visual lie-detector test. Evidently he wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t push the point, and for that she was grateful. He sprang to his feet.
‘If I can do anything, even just offer a shoulder to cry on, you only have to call.’
‘Thanks.’
She avoided his eyes. Decision made. Last night had been a colossal mistake. She wasn’t going to make it again.
As the door swung shut behind Greg, she dug out her mobile. She’d switched if off after arriving in Lancaster, and the missed calls included one from Daniel Kind. He’d left a message on her voicemail. Hasty, breathless, yet characteristically polite. ‘Hannah, could you call me, please? It’s about poor Terri, of course. Thanks.’
Daniel, witness to the discovery of Terri’s corpse. She must speak to him. Fill in the pages missing from the story Fern had told her.
‘Hello?’
‘Hannah, thanks for calling back.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m so sorry about Terri. I know how close you two were.’
‘Fern told me you found … the body.’
The body. This was Terri she was talking about. Her gorge rose.
‘I was with the man who did. One of her boyfriend’s neighbours.’
‘The boyfriend, yes. Tell me about him.’
‘All I can say is that Robin is in bits right now. It’s obvious he cared a lot for her.’
‘I realised there was someone, but I guessed wrong. I thought she’d got mixed up with the guy she worked for. I suppose I gave off vibes of disapproval, and that pissed her off.’
‘Oz Knight?’ He paused. ‘He has a track record as a womaniser, but I didn’t pick up any hint that he and Terri …’
‘The Knights are friends of yours?’
‘I only just met them. They organised a conference at the weekend, and I was a speaker. That’s how I met Jeffrey Burgoyne, who found Terri. He and his partner, Alex Quinlan, are actors. They run their own two-man company.’
‘And Robin?’
‘I met him for the first time this morning. He turned up early, in a distressed state because Terri was missing. That’s why we set up the search party.’
‘Wasn’t Robin Park at this do at Ravenbank Hall?’
‘No, he was poorly.’
‘Are you saying Terri went without him?’ A thought struck her. ‘She wasn’t on a mission to chat up this man Knight, by any chance?’
‘Not as far as I’m aware. She was keeping Miriam Park company. Robin’s mother. Look, Hannah, it’s not easy talking on the phone. Can we get together this evening, are you free?’
‘My social calendar isn’t that crowded, to be honest. Though I need to visit Marc. He’s in hospital.’
‘God, what’s happened to him?’
‘He only wrapped his car round a tree last night. The silly man is lucky to be alive, even luckier that he’s come out of it with not much more than a few scratches.’
‘You’ve had a bellyful.’
‘You can say that again.’
‘Why don’t you come over to Tarn Fold? Louise can cook a meal. Stay over, if you like. After what’s happened …’
His voice trailed away. Hannah filled the silence.
‘That’s a kind offer. I’ll take you up on it before you have second thoughts.’
Hannah still hadn’t absorbed the news of Terri’s death, but she knew she couldn’t surrender to grief and misery. The choice was to sink or swim. She steeled herself for a return visit to the dreaded hospital, and a difficult conversation with Marc. What, unaccountably, she forgot to bargain for was the brooding presence by his bedside of his mother. Mrs Amos had never taken much trouble to hide her belief that Hannah had never been good enough for her son. Nothing personal, really. Kate Middleton wouldn’t have come up to scratch, either.
‘Hello, Glenda.’ Marc’s eyes were clamped shut. Fast asleep, or engaging in a tactical retreat from tricky questions? The latter, more like. ‘How’s the patient?’
Glenda Amos grunted. Hannah thought the old woman had shrunk since their last meeting. Age and disappointed expectations were taking their toll. The atmosphere in the ward was stuffy, but she hadn’t undone a single button of her lime green overcoat. From the look on her face, she hadn’t quite worked out how to justify accusing Hannah of causing her son’s car crash, but it wouldn’t take her long. She was a grand mistress of the blame game.
Marc stirred, and made a little moaning noise, as if contriving a protracted return to consciousness. His mother gave a truculent sniff.
‘The journey here was a nightmare. It’s a long way from Grange by public transport, you know.’
‘Why don’t you take a break?’ Hannah suggested. ‘Treat yourself to a cup of coffee, or a snack from the shop?’
‘I had my tea before I came out.’ She considered her son’s flickering eyelids. ‘I think he’s coming round. I’ll go and powder my nose. Back in a couple of ticks. Don’t you go upsetting him in the meantime.’
As she stomped off, Hannah pulled her chair closer to the bed and inspected the patient. The gash was bandaged, and he wasn’t instantly recognisable as the good-looking bloke she’d shared a bed with for so long. But it could have been so much worse.
‘How are you?’
He opened bloodshot eyes and said croakily, ‘They tell me I’ll live.’
‘How are the ribs?’
‘Hurt like hell.’ Was he calculating whether self-pity would attract sympathy, or be counterproductive? He really ought to know better by now.
‘The doctor tells me you’ll be as good as new before long. Thank God.’ She took a breath. ‘About last night.’
The battering his face had taken made it easy for him to hide emotion. ‘Yes?’
‘It was a one-off. I’d had a couple of drinks and I was feeling sorry for myself. Stupid. It’s not that Greg took advantage …’
‘No?’
‘No! My fault, and I’m not going to make a habit of it. But …’
‘Uh-huh?’
‘Even if I wanted to make a habit o
f it, that would be my choice. Marc, you need to understand, it’s over between the two of us. I’d already made that clear. It’s none of your business what I do or who I’m with in my private life. Such as it is.’
Slowly, he said, ‘I’ve had a bit of time to chew things over since I regained consciousness.’
‘And?’
‘I agree.’ He expelled a long sigh, as though the admission had cost a vast physical effort. She wasn’t convinced; he often resorted to play-acting when things got tough. Or was she just a cynical old witch who had never deserved a man’s devotion? ‘I kept hoping, couldn’t help it, but …’
‘But?’
‘Last night I finally saw we were finished, and it was forever.’
She sat tight, sure there was more to come.
‘It’s not about Greg Wharf, is it? It’s about … me. And you’re not going to change your mind.’
‘’Fraid not.’
‘I was furious with you. I felt betrayed, even though I had no right. That’s why I drove like a maniac.’
‘You could have killed yourself.’
‘Last night, I didn’t care.’ He was gritting his teeth, whether against the physical pain or the despair of admitting defeat, she couldn’t say. ‘I wasn’t drunk, you know.’
‘Just as well, you’d have had a court case and a driving ban to worry about, as well as your cuts and bruises.’
She was doing it deliberately, this ostentatious lack of sympathy, so he was in no doubt that playing mind games would be a waste of time.
‘Apparently I might still get prosecuted.’
‘For driving without due care, yes.’
‘Making an example of me, I suppose. No favours shown to a DCI’s ex. That sort of thing.’
‘What do you expect? You smashed your car into a tree. It could have been so much worse. And for what? No reason.’
‘Losing you was a pretty good reason,’ he murmured. ‘Or so it seemed last night.’
She patted his bruised hand. ‘In the cold light of day, you can see how wrong you were.’
The Frozen Shroud Page 15