by Adrian Wills
And then there were the kids to consider. Kyle, for all his faults, was their father. She couldn’t bear the thought of taking them away from him, ripping their lives apart, replacing him with another man, a stranger they barely knew.
Claire nodded, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
‘How long’s it been going on?’ Sally’s face had darkened. No attempt at concealing her disapproval.
‘A few months. It’s not serious.’
‘Do you love him?’
‘I don’t think so.’
An awkward silence hung between them, neither of them sure what to say or do.
‘You know how this is going to look, Claire?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘And that I’ll have to report it. The fact you’ve been having an affair may have a bearing on the case.’
‘It doesn’t. This has nothing to do with Kyle going missing,’ she said, raising her voice in desperation.
‘All the same, we’ll need to speak to him. You’d better give me his full name and address.’
‘Please, Sally.’
She pulled a notebook from her bag and flipped it open, pen in hand. ‘His name?’
Claire had no choice. As the details tripped off her tongue it was as if the scaffold poles supporting her sanity were being kicked out. It was only a matter of time before everyone found out and she’d never be able to hold her head up in public again, let alone at the school, no matter what had happened to Kyle.
She hadn’t heard the back door click open, nor the sound of boots padding across the vinyl floor. All she knew was that Spider was suddenly standing by the utility door staring at her, eyes wide with disbelief.
‘Spider,’ she gasped, like a child caught with her hand in the biscuit tin. ‘How long have you been there?’
Oh God, how much had he heard?
‘You’ve been screwing around behind Kyle’s back while he’s been missing?’ He spat the words out like venom.
‘It’s not like that,’ she said, her head spinning.
‘How could you?’
‘Jamie, don’t...I didn’t...’
The look in his eye was pure hatred, like it was a personal betrayal. If only he knew the hell Kyle had put her through, what it had been like living with him these last few months.
‘Bitch!’ he screamed.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whimpered.
He looked so angry, nostrils flaring. For a second or two, she thought he might physically attack her. He certainly looked capable of it, and it would have been nothing less than she deserved. She should have been there for Kyle, not carrying on behind his back. That was what a dutiful wife should have done.
She flinched as he stepped closer, his fists clenched.
‘That’s enough,’ said Sally, putting herself between them. ‘Go home and calm down.’
Spider glared at Claire, his eyes black and full of loathing. Then he turned and went, slamming the back door so hard the whole house shook.
Chapter Thirty
Blake bounded up the hotel’s worn stone steps and almost collided with Ryan Fletcher as he emerged from inside.
‘Blake,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’
‘And now you’ve found me.’
The text from Harry Patterson had been unequivocal. He wanted Blake to call him urgently from somewhere discreet. Blake concocted an excuse and left Parkes at the police station to make the call back at his room.
‘I wanted to apologise about the other day,’ said Fletcher. ‘I completely forgot I’d locked the car and taken the key when I left you. I feel bad. Can I buy you a coffee?’
‘I have to make a call,’ said Blake.
‘Maybe later?’
‘Look, give me ten minutes.’ All Blake could think about was what had spooked his boss, but he was intrigued by Fletcher. He was the one person, other than Claire, who seemed to understand the depth of Kyle Hopkins’ turmoil before he went missing. ‘Why don’t I meet you in the bar in ten minutes?’
‘Sure.’ Fletcher checked his watch. ‘I have an hour.’
He held the door open for Blake, who rushed inside and ran up the stairs, dialling Patterson’s number as he let himself into his room.
Patterson picked up on the first ring, sounding breathless against the background rush of wind and traffic noise. ‘Are you alone?’
‘I’m in my hotel room,’ said Blake. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘We have a problem. I need to disappear for a bit, so don’t expect to hear from me for a while.’
‘Harry? What’s going on?’
‘Shut up and listen to me carefully, Blake. You might be in danger too. They’ve raided my office and I think they’re after me.’
‘What are you talking about? Who’s after you?’
‘I’ve triggered some kind of tripwire. It may be those files on the Duke of Yorks.’
‘Who’s after you, Harry? The police?’
‘No, men in black suits. Some shady Government agency with all-access authorisation. Heather tipped me off before I made it into the building.’
‘So where are you now?’
‘Can’t say.’
‘Harry?’
‘I tried contacting two senior officers who I was told were deployed with the regiment to Basra in 2004. They should have both been able to confirm whether your survival school instructors had any operational role in theatre.’
‘Would have been able?’
‘Both dead. Accidental deaths, according to the reports. One in a car crash, the other only a few weeks later in a fire at his flat.’
‘Coincidence?’
‘I don’t think so. Watch your back, Blake. We may have stirred up a hornets’ nest. I’ll contact you when I can.’ The line clicked dead and he was gone. ‘Harry?’ Static buzzed in Blake’s ear.
He tried calling the number again, but it was unobtainable. No doubt Paterson’s phone was already in the bottom of the nearest waste bin, detached from its battery and SIM card.
Blake collapsed on the bed. His boss was one of the coolest, level-headed men he’d ever known. But the fear Blake had heard in his voice was unmistakable, and utterly out of character. Blake could always rely on Patterson for a reasoned and objective appraisal of any shit storm. He was a man who faced fear head-on. He never turned his back and ran. Until now. To say there was a problem was a huge understatement.
Blake remembered Fletcher was waiting in the bar downstairs, the one man he suspected held all the answers. Whatever the hell was going on, he had a feeling Fletcher was at the heart of it.
He stood, his legs weak and dragged himself to the bathroom. He rinsed his face under the cold tap, letting the water run into the sink, and tried to slow his racing pulse.
Fletcher was sitting at a table facing the door, drinking coffee from a china cup. He smiled and stood when he saw Blake. No hint of animosity, even though Blake searched his face for it.
‘Listen, I wanted to apologise again for what happened on the moor the other day,’ he said, as the men shook hands.
‘No need. It wasn’t your fault.’
‘I put you in danger, but my mind was distracted. It’s the only excuse I’ve got.’
‘Did you find anything else?’ asked Blake.
‘Only Kyle’s wallet. To be honest, I don’t know what I was looking for, but I had to do something. Have you heard whether the police have any more leads?’
‘Not that I’m aware of,’ said Blake, watching Fletcher warily across the table.
‘I heard you went in Bristol.’
‘You’re well informed.’
‘Did anything come of it?’
‘We were trying to find a loan shark who may have lent Hopkins money.’
Fletcher’s eyes opened wide. ‘Did you find him?’
‘No, but he was picked up by a member of the public on the side of the road, badly beaten.’
‘Bloody hell. Do you suspect Kyle had something to do with i
t?’
‘My hunch is the two men arranged to meet on Monday night, argued, and Hopkins did something stupid. Now he’s lying low until the dust settles.’
‘I hope you’re wrong,’ said Fletcher, shaking his head. ‘It sounds so out of character.’
‘Desperation makes people do desperate things.’ Blake crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap. ‘There were two senior officers deployed with the Duke of York’s to Iraq. Were you aware they’ve both died since they returned?’
‘No. I’m sorry. But what does that have to do with Kyle?’
‘One in a car crash and one in a fire, a matter of weeks apart. It’s quite some coincidence.’
‘What’s your point?’ said Fletcher, his piercing blue eyes narrowing as he fixed Blake with a cold stare.
‘Of course, you never served with them in Iraq because you never deployed.’
‘That’s right.’
‘But of course, if you were lying to me, and you were in Basra in 2004, those are two men who could verify it.’
‘Why would I lie? I have nothing to hide.’
‘There was a photograph of Kyle at his house. It’s a few years old, one of Claire’s favourites. He was dressed in desert fatigues. She says it was taken in Iraq, but now the picture has vanished.’
‘Maybe you imagined it.’
‘Don’t jerk me around, Lieutenant.’
‘Look, that photo must have been taken during a training exercise. It’s all I can think.’
‘Did you ever go to Iraq on a training exercise?’
‘It could have been taken anywhere. Check Kyle’s service records. I’m sure MI5 can get access to them.’
‘We have, and you know what happened? The office was raided and one of my colleagues is on the run, in fear of his life.’
Fletcher finished his coffee, put the cup back on its saucer and leaned across the table. ‘You know you should be very careful about the stones you look under. You never know what might be lurking underneath.’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘Does it sound like one?’
‘What are you hiding, Lieutenant?’
Fletcher laughed. ‘You have a rampant imagination, Mr Blake, but this is not helping us find Kyle. He was one of my best instructors and I’m doing everything I can to find him. What about you? I don’t have time for conspiracy theories.’ He stood, scraping back his chair. ‘I have more important things to do.’
‘I’m watching you, Fletcher,’ said Blake, remaining seated. ‘And I will find the truth.’
‘The truth is Kyle Hopkins is lost on the moor, depressed and confused, and the chances of finding him alive are narrowing every day.’
‘I won’t stop,’ said Blake. ‘Not ever.’
Fletcher took a breath as if he was going to reply, but clamped his mouth shut. He fixed his beret on his head and marched out of the bar without another word, his boots squeaking on the polished wooden floor.
Chapter Thirty-One
The reception area in the police station was deserted apart from a middle-aged woman reporting a lost handbag to a severe-looking female sergeant behind the counter. Blake took a seat on a plastic chair bolted to the wall and waited patiently. When a door behind the counter buzzed open and Parkes appeared, she greeted him with little warmth. Her hair was tied back and she looked gaunt, like she needed a good night’s sleep.
‘Where the hell have you been?’ she asked as she beckoned him inside and the door clicked shut behind them. She turned to confront him next to a vending machine tucked into a dark space under a stairwell. ‘I’m not supposed to let you out of my sight.’
‘I needed some time to think,’ said Blake. ‘I was contemplating heading back to London. Something’s happened back at the office.’
‘You want me to run you to the station?’
‘I changed my mind. I’m going to stay for a few more days.’
After Ryan Fletcher had left the hotel, Blake had driven onto the moor and headed for the tor overlooking the army training school. He’d climbed to the top with his thighs burning and drawing down deep breaths of clean, moorland air. Rolling plateaus of green and grey and purple extended to the horizon on all sides, and only the sound of the wind rushing past his ears disturbed the silence.
Patterson’s phone call had spooked him and the subsequent conversation with Fletcher had done nothing to settle his nerves. The officer’s threat had been unambiguous, and he’d needed time alone to think things through, to try to make sense of it all. But as he sat with his feet dangling off the edge of a rock, squinting through watery eyes at the school in the valley below, surrounded by the high wire fence and the evergreen pine wood, he had an unexpected urge to get the hell out of Devon. It would be easy to hotfoot it back to Plymouth and hop on the next train to London. Patterson needed his help and there wasn’t much Blake could do stuck out in the wilds chasing his tail. By rights, his job was done. Whatever had happened to Hopkins, he hadn’t been abducted by terrorists, that much was obvious now.
But to leave would have been to admit defeat. And he’d never been one to give up, especially when his back was against the wall. Running home to London wasn’t the answer. He needed to stay and turn over a few more stones, whether Fletcher liked it or not. Patterson could take care of himself.
The whole thing stank of a cover-up. And Blake couldn’t help but think Fletcher was at the heart of it. It was inconceivable Claire Hopkins could have been mistaken about her husband serving in Iraq. Like a scab over a healing wound, Blake couldn’t leave it alone.
The afternoon light was already fading as he picked a route off the tor and trudged back to the car with an idea forming in his mind. Ryan Fletcher might not be talking, but there were three other instructors at the school who must know more than they were letting on. He’d only need a few minutes with one of them. After all, loosening tongues was what he did best.
‘Fine, but no more disappearing off, understood?’ said Parkes, her eyes narrowing.
‘Absolutely, but I need your help with something. Can you help me get to one of the other instructors without Fletcher finding out?’
Parkes stared at him blankly, her lips pursed.
‘What is it?’ asked Blake.
‘You’ve not heard, have you?’
‘Heard what?’
‘Jamie Dobson’s in custody on suspicion of attempted murder. He was brought in about an hour ago.’
‘What the hell?’
‘He’s claiming Claire Hopkins confessed to plotting Kyle’s death and having his body dumped on the moor.’
Blake took an involuntary step backwards as if he’d been punched in the chest. ‘Claire? Is she all right?’
‘She’s fine, but her boyfriend’s currently in intensive care hanging on by a thread. Come on, looks like you need a coffee.’
Parkes found an empty office on the first floor with a table and two chairs and a small window overlooking a courtyard at the back of the station. She fetched two mugs of coffee and sat nursing her drink in two hands.
‘So who’s the boyfriend?’
‘His name’s Steve Fielden. He’s a teacher at the school the Hopkins’ kids attend. Dobson says he overheard Claire on the phone this morning talking to Fielden. When he confronted her, he says she confessed to the affair and said they’d plotted Kyle’s murder together.’
‘And Dobson took matters into his own hands?’
‘He managed to squeeze Fielden’s name out of her. Tavistock’s a small town. It didn’t take him long to track the guy down. Uniform were called by neighbours who reported sounds of a disturbance at his house this afternoon. They found Fielden in a pool of blood and Dobson with a kitchen knife in his hand. He admits he went to the house looking to confront Fielden, but claims he was acting in self-defence, and that Fielden attacked him first.’
Blake shook his head. ‘Where’s Claire?’
‘Hubbard’s had her brought in for questioning. He thinks this is his big b
reakthrough.’
‘What do you think?’
‘I guess maybe he was right after all.’
‘No,’ said Blake. His mind was racing. ‘I think Dobson’s setting her up.’
‘Why would he do that?’
‘Misdirection. I’m sure he knows what’s happened to Kyle and he’s covering his tracks.’
Parkes eyes opened wide. ‘You think Dobson is responsible for Hopkins going missing?’
‘You should check if he has an alibi for Monday night, but I bet he’ll tell you he was with Ryan Fletcher.’
‘You’re forgetting Dobson’s still facing a serious charge. Why try to kill Fielden if he was simply trying to frame Claire?’ asked Parkes, rocking back in her chair.
‘It’s a good question, but you’re assuming it was premeditated. Let’s say he did discover Claire’s infidelity earlier today. What if he was driven by jealously to attack Fielden, but then realised it was the perfect opportunity to clear his own name?’
‘I suppose it’s possible,’ said Parkes.
‘And if he can convince Hubbard he was acting in self-defence and testifies against Claire and Fielden, he could avoid prosecution all together.’
‘So what do we do?’
‘I’m guessing Hubbard’s not going to be open to any theories beyond his own, so we need to prove Fletcher and Dobson are in this together.’
‘And why,’ said Parkes.
‘Back to Plan A,’ said Blake. ‘Let’s speak to Jake Stone or Sean van Dijk and find out what they know. I’m convinced we’ve been lied to since the moment I arrived, so let’s go digging. How do we find them?’
Chapter Thirty-Two
Parkes hung up with a triumphant smile. ‘Jake Stone left the base about fifteen minutes ago,’ she said. ‘The guy in the guardhouse says he’s headed for the gym.’
