by Lin Anderson
Lisa’s eyes opened.
‘Oh Dad, I’m sorry.’
Bill drew her into his arms, not wanting her to see his tears. Lisa was apologising to him, but he was the one who’d failed. Failed to protect his family, failed to protect his precious daughter, with all the knowledge and resources at his disposal.
‘I lost Susie on the way out. I went back in to look for her, but she wasn’t there. I panicked a bit because you didn’t want me to go to the concert, and Susie’s mum had only let her go because she was with me. She thinks because you’re a policeman …’ Lisa left the sentence unfinished. ‘I went looking for Mum. There was a van with its back door open. I walked past and he just grabbed me.’
Magnus had been right. The killer had watched and waited and taken his opportunity when it arose. They’d all played into his hands, one way or another.
‘We got him. He’ll pay for what he did,’ Bill said, knowing he wasn’t interested in justice. He wanted Henderson dead. He would always want him dead.
When Margaret arrived, Bill left the two women alone together. Margaret would need to be told about the charm, but not yet.
Rhona lay still, a monitor beeping beside her. Bill thought she was asleep, but when he approached, she turned and looked at him, her eyes full of fear.
‘We found Lisa. She’s all right.’
Rhona grabbed his hand. ‘Thank God.’
‘McNab searched a van going through the road block. She was trussed up in the back.’
They stared at one another, both knowing how close death had come. Bill couldn’t bring himself to mention the charm. Rhona had enough to think about without that horror. He felt as responsible for her as he did for his daughter, for Nora’s daughter. For all the women the Gravedigger had tortured and killed before they caught him.
Accident and Emergency had a half-dozen people still waiting to be seen, but there was no sign of Magnus, either in the waiting room or the cubicles. An enquiry at the desk confirmed Bill’s suspicions. Wherever Magnus had gone when he left the Necropolis, it hadn’t been to the hospital.
74
MAGNUS MADE HIS way home through the early morning streets. He knew he looked a mess, by the shocked glances of the few people about at that time. One man offered to call an ambulance, but Magnus brushed his concerns aside. The pain from his wounds was the only thing keeping him upright.
The flat was silent and still. Magnus poured himself a stiff drink and took the bottle to the balcony. The sight of the river calmed him a little. Had he been in Orkney he would have immersed himself in the sea. Tried to wash himself clean, inside and out. Here, he had to be content with the river’s close presence. The whisky entered his bloodstream like a transfusion. Magnus drank it down and poured another.
He swirled the measure around the glass, thinking of Rhona standing next to him that night on the balcony. The scent of her skin. The mind games they’d played.
He’d wanted to go to the hospital and make sure she was all right. But he hadn’t, knowing it wasn’t his place to be there. He wasn’t her lover. Sean was.
When the buzzer went, Magnus glanced at the video-screen and opened the door without speaking. He’d been waiting for this moment. It was the first time they’d met since that night in the club. Then Sean had been relaxed, friendly, and rightly suspicious of Magnus’s motives.
Sean walked into the sitting room, his steady stride belying the amount of drinkhe’d consumed. They stood facing one another, absurdly, over the chessboard.
Magnus waited in silence. Part of him wanted Sean to hurt. Maybe then he would break up with Rhona, leave the way clear. The rest of him hated himself for even thinking that.
‘Is Rhona okay?’ he said.
‘What the fuck do you care?’
When Sean sprang towards him, Magnus didn’t move. Perhaps he wanted to be beaten, punished for abandoning Terri and leading Rhona into danger. Sean caught him by the throat and forced him against the wall. They stood eye to eye.
‘I saw you at the club. I saw the way you looked at her.’
‘I didn’t touch Rhona.’ Magnus wanted Sean to know that, at least.
‘But you wanted to.’
‘Yes, I wanted to.’
His admission should have made Sean angrier, but seemed not to. He released his hold and stepped back.
Sean looked Magnus up and down, taking in the muddied torso and wrecked hands.
‘What happened to Rhona in that place?’
Magnus knew then that he wasn’t the only broken man in the room. He shook his head. It wasn’t for him to say.
‘What did he do to her? Tell me, you bastard!’
Magnus took the blow full on the face. On the second, he fought back, feeling his own knuckle hit bone. They were evenly matched. Two men, full of anger because they’d failed to protect the woman they both cared deeply about.
75
BILL WAS MET with a cheer when he entered the incident room. The night shift hadn’t left and the day shift had joined them. Bill let their combined forces express their joy, his joy.
‘Okay, where is he?’
‘Interview room one, but the Super wants a word first.’ Janice handed Bill the phone.
It rang only once. Bill imagined Superintendent Sutherland in his dressing gown, pacing the floor.
‘Sir?’
‘How’s your daughter?’
‘She’s fine,’ Bill lied.
‘Good.’
There was a pause while the Super cleared his throat.
‘You will not interview Henderson.’
Bill said nothing.
‘DS McNab will do it.’
Bill remained silent.
‘That’s an order.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Sutherland sounded relieved not to be argued with. ‘Go home. Get some sleep. Be with your family. Come and see me in twenty-four hours.’
Bill put down the phone, aware of every eye in the room on him. Everyone knew what the conversation had been about.
He turned to McNab. ‘Okay, let’s go.’
Magnus had been right. He was ordinary. Henderson, or Williams, or Gordon. His hair was thinning on top, though still blond, grey at the temples. Eyes not empty, nor soulless, just calculating, with a hint of mocking superiority.
McNab sat next to Bill, awaiting orders to start the tape. Bill nodded and McNab did the preliminaries, listing all the pseudonyms. They were facing not one man, but three, and all of them killers.
‘I demand a lawyer be present.’
McNab snorted. ‘English law. Doesn’t work that way in Scotland. We haven’t charged you yet.’
A flicker of unease crossed Henderson’s face. It was a small success, but tasted sweet nevertheless.
Bill fingered the plastic evidence bag in his pocket. The half-moon charm would go to forensic, but not yet. Bill drew out the bag and placed it between them on the table. He reported the exhibit for the tape. McNab had never seen the charm and had no idea what it meant. He threw Bill a questioning look.
Henderson glanced down at the bag and smiled. Bill’s stomach lurched.
Henderson looked up. ‘Shame. I planned to go back in for that.’ He licked his lips. ‘Bet you didn’t know your daughter shaved her pussy. Who for, I wonder?’
McNab flinched, anger reddening his face.
Bill fought to control his own reaction and succeeded in keeping his voice steady, as he addressed the tape. ‘Note, Mr Henderson has admitted to placing the charm inside Lisa Wilson and also to planning a further sexual assault on her.’
‘You fucking bastard,’ McNab hissed.
‘Got in there before you, did I?’ Henderson met McNab eye to eye, goading him. When he didn’t respond, Henderson carried on. ‘Pity about the flat shoes. Still, I used my own stiletto.’ He held up two fingers and mimicked a fucking motion through the circle of thumb and forefinger. ‘Daddy’s little girl will never forget me.’
There was a second’s silence, then
the table lifted off the floor as McNab’s boot caught Henderson hard between the legs. His face twisted in agony at the force of the impact. He grunted and slumped forward, gasping for breath, scrabbling to shield his crotch from further blows.
Bill grabbed McNab by the arm and addressed the tape. ‘This interview is suspended at 7.15, on the request of the interviewee to visit the toilet.’
When Henderson got his breath back, he started doling out all kinds of threats. Ignoring him, Bill righted the table and motioned McNab outside. The commotion had brought a constable to see what was wrong. Bill sent him away with an angry wave.
‘I’ll kill that bastard.’ McNab’s body shook with fury.
Bill’s voice was sharp. ‘Neither of us is going back in there. Someone else takes over from here.’
McNab opened his mouth to protest, then saw the determination on Bill’s face.
‘If I can let it go,’ Bill said quietly, ‘so can you.’
McNab looked close to weeping. Whether he was upset for Bill, himself, or Lisa, Bill didn’t know.
Throughout the day, they began to put the pieces of the jigsaw together. Bill watched as McNab channelled his anger into work. He owed his sergeant a debt he could never repay. But one thing he could do. If there was a problem over the incident in the interview room, it would be Bill and not McNab who would take the rap.
McNab had established Henderson’s stay at the Great Eastern.
‘The hostel began rehousing residents from 1994 and shut its doors finally in 2001,’ he told Bill. ‘Williams, then called Peter Henderson, lived there for a time in the late nineties before he went south. That’s when he must have got to know Cathy.’
‘And got to know the building,’ Bill surmised. ‘Any family?’
‘He was fostered with an older brother when he was two and the brother three. They both went to live with a family in Bridgeton. No father’s name on the birth certificate and Henderson and his brother apparently never saw their mother again. In some trouble as a juvenile, the social service record mentioned a caution for exposing himself. Was a gang member at one point, and had a reputation for using a knife. He cleaned up his act and got a job in a boat yard. It looked good for a while, or at least we don’t know what he was up to, but we think he moved around a lot. Never married as far as we’re aware. Then back here to the men’s hostel.’
‘When?’
‘1997. Not sure how long he stayed, before he went to Bradford.’
‘What about contacts in Bradford? Maybe there’s more we can get him on.’
‘We’re checking.’
And it took time. Time they hadn’t had when they were looking for Terri and Lisa.
‘The hostel records gave his room number as eleven, in the basement. We’re taking a closer look.’
Forensics had come a long way in a decade. If the Gravedigger had left traces of himself in room eleven, they would find them.
‘CCU retrieved an address for a Mark Gordon from the commodore’s computer. Six Riverside Gardens.’
‘That’s near Magnus’s flat,’ Bill said.
And a far cry from room eleven in the Great Eastern.
76
WHEN THEY REACHED the riverside apartment, Magnus was waiting for them.
‘Thanks for calling me.’
‘You deserve to know who your neighbour was,’ Bill said. ‘Whatever the boss says.’
Gordon’s name was on the entry phone list at the front door.
McNab leaned on successive buzzers until someone answered and let them in. When they reached Gordon’s door, Bill gave a cursory knock, then forced it.
The apartment was what you’d expect an up-market rental to be. Minimalist and functional. Magnus had said the killer would move between lair and hunting ground. This place looked like the respectable face of Dr Jekyll.
‘Some smart stuff in the wardrobe,’ McNab called from the bedroom. ‘Bed’s made. Room’s tidy.’
Magnus stood in silence, expression intent. Bill had seen the same look at the scenes of crime, and in the graveyard when they were searching for Lisa.
‘I can smell him. I can smell others too.’ Magnus cast his eyes around the room, then followed McNab into the bedroom. Bill could detect nothing, but Magnus strode confidently to the bed and pulled back the cover.
The trophies were laid out, side by side, row on row, like a patchwork quilt. More than five, so it seemed more had been killed than they were aware of. Something had been removed from each victim. Mostly underwear, smeared with blood, urine, faeces. Now even Bill could smell it.
‘He wanted them close,’ Magnus said. ‘When he lay among them, he could relive each precious moment of every kill.’
‘Sir.’ A shocked McNab pointed out what Bill had already seen. A small charm, shaped like a half-moon, had been attached to every item.
‘He would never have left these behind through choice,’ Magnus said.
They’d forced him to run. To abandon his trophies. His pride had been dented. What better way to restore it than to abduct Bill’s daughter? Magnus had succumbed to temptation. Rhona’s curiosity had been a bonus. But the ultimate prize would have been Lisa. Bill could hardly bear to admit to himself that if it hadn’t been for his daughter’s violation, they wouldn’t have caught their killer.
On their way to the Great Eastern, Bill’s concern for Magnus’s physical state increased. In the close confines of the car, he could see fresh evidence of cuts and bruising. Had Magnus been in a fight since they last met?
Number eleven was at the far end of the lower corridor, next to the stairs, close to the room Bill had taken refuge in when he’d learned Lisa was missing.
At first glance the cubicle looked the same as all the others. Little more than an empty cell, containing a metal bed frame and broken chair. A torn curtain shivered in a faint breeze from a broken window. A SOCO knelt close by, examining spotting on the wall below. The outermost wooden partition had already been removed, exposing the gap between it and the concrete retaining wall behind. The SOCO working there indicated some of the items already extracted from this hiding place. Souvenirs of Henderson’s earlier days. His training for what was to follow. Grimy bras and pants, stiffened by old blood and semen, evidence of the Gravedigger’s past.
Bill sat in his swivel chair, knowing it might be the last time he did. He was struck by how little that bothered him. Maybe it was time to go and live in a cottage somewhere in the west. Or the Orkney Isles. Where there were no crackheads like Minty, no monsters like Henderson. If any such place existed.
‘Beattie’s waiting in room two, sir.’
Bill thanked Janice and lifted the forensic report on the third body they’d found. He gave the chair a spin before he left the room. His way of saying goodbye.
Bill could tell by Beattie’s smug look that news had reached him of Henderson’s arrest. Beattie, or Atticus, was in the clear.
‘Thank you for coming in, Mr Beattie.’
Bill laid the brown envelope between them on the table.
‘It was inconvenient but …’
Bill drew out a photograph. ‘Do you recognise this girl?’
Beattie gave the image of a fresh-faced schoolgirl a cursory glance. ‘No, I’m sorry, I don’t.’
Bill studied Beattie’s complacent expression for a moment.
‘That’s strange. Angela Sweeney was in the care of your local authority. She attended your school for a period of time, before she ran away. According to records, Angela was assigned to you for guidance purposes.’
‘I see many children …’
‘But you don’t fuck them all.’
Beattie flushed scarlet. ‘How dare you. I will complain to your superior …’
Bill shoved a second picture in Beattie’s face. This one was of Angela’s body.
‘She was fifteen years of age when he did this to her. She was also four months pregnant.’
Bill saw Beattie flinch.
‘When you fucke
d your former pupil, you left a little something of yourself behind, Atticus.’
There was a moment’s horrified silence.
‘What are you suggesting?’
‘We ran some tests on the foetus. Guess who the father was?’
‘That’s nonsense …’
‘You were having illegal relations with a minor, Mr Beattie.’
Fury suffused Beattie’s face. ‘I had sex with a prostitute, so what?’
‘You had sex with a fifteen-year-old girl.’
Bill sipped his congealing coffee, pondering how life could change in a split second. Magnus, with his bid in the online auction. Rhona choosing to go into the Great Eastern. McNab’s decision to look inside that van.
Bill wondered whether he could have done something differently and perhaps saved Terri and Leanne, and spared Lisa. He was seized by a terrible feeling of powerlessness. Even with the full weight and might of the law behind him, he hadn’t been able to protect his own daughter. He’d brought evil into Lisa’s life. Evil that would stay with her for ever.
From the window, the Glasgow skyline looked as big, brash and uncompromising as ever. A city that bred good people. A city that bred monsters.
It was DC Clark who delivered the message. His team watched in silence as he crossed the incident room en route to the Super’s office. DI Bill Wilson had captured a killer, but those who upheld the law were not permitted to break it.
77
‘HEY.’
‘Hey, yourself.’
McNab looked rough. Two days’ growth, which couldn’t be described as designer stubble, and dark shadows under his eyes.
‘You’re looking good.’ He gave her the once-over. ‘Not too sure about the hospital gown though.’ He admired her plaster. ‘Dr MacLeod, in bed and immobile. Just the job.’
‘Stop it.’
‘Stop what?’
‘Stop flirting with me.’
‘Okay. You look terrible. The gown’s a fright and I don’t fancy you at all. How’s that?’
Rhona pulled a face.
‘All of which you know is untrue.’
Rhona changed the subject. ‘Tell me what’s happening.’
‘How long have you got?’
‘I get out after the doctor’s round, in an hour’s time.’