‘But what choice did she really have?’
‘She had every choice. I would never order any of my staff to go into such a dangerous situation. This isn’t the military; my staff don’t follow orders that put themselves in harm’s way. Police officers choose to do it. They do it because they care, and because they know it will make a difference. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve just driven three and a half hours to see your sister.’
Rachel shouted from within the house, ‘Joe, who are you talking to?’
‘It’s your boss.’
‘Well, let him in, for Christ’s sake! What are you doing on the doorstep?’
The burly marine raised his hands and said quietly, ‘Okay, Danny. It’s still against my better judgement, but as she wants to see you, you’d better go in.’
‘I understand why you’re upset, Joe. I promise you; I’ll ensure that Rachel takes as long as she needs and gets all the help necessary to get her back to her old self.’
‘I’ll bloody well be holding you to that. Make sure it happens.’
‘Your sister means an awful lot to me. Her recovery will be entirely at her own pace. She will only come back to work if and when she’s ready to, okay?’
‘Okay, so you’ve said. Now stop talking to me and go and see my sister before I change my mind about allowing you in.’
96
5 August 1986
Mansfield, Nottinghamshire
Danny heard the car door slam outside his house.
He glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece above the open fire. It was only just coming up for eight o’clock. He knew that Sue wasn’t due to finish work for at least another couple of hours.
He took another drink from the cut-glass tumbler full of Bushmills whiskey, stood up, and walked to the window.
It was still light outside, and Danny could see the unmistakeable, bulky figure of Detective Chief Superintendent Bill Wainwright standing by the side of his BMW car on the driveway.
For a split second, an icy chill swept over him. He strained his eyes to see if there was a woman police constable also in the car.
Inwardly, he breathed a sigh of relief when he realised that Bill Wainwright wasn’t visiting him at home as the bearer of the worst possible news.
Danny walked to the front door and opened it just as Bill Wainwright was about to ring the doorbell.
Danny said, ‘Hello, Bill, come in, come in. What brings you out here at this time of night?’
Wainwright stepped inside the hallway, far enough past Danny to allow him room to close the front door. As soon as Danny had shut the door, Wainwright said, ‘I was visiting my sister at Warsop, and I thought I’d drop in and pay you a visit on my way home. You don’t mind, do you?’
‘Of course I don’t mind. Come through to the front room. Can I fix you a drink?’
Wainwright gestured at the whiskey glass in Danny’s hand and said, ‘A small one of those would do the trick. I can’t have too much, though; I’ve still got to drive home.’
He smiled, then continued. ‘Your good lady not at home?’
‘Sue’s on a late shift this evening. I’ll be lucky to see her before eleven o’clock.’
Danny walked over to the drinks cabinet. He poured Bill a small measure of the Irish whiskey and dropped in a couple of ice cubes.
He held up the cut-glass tumbler and said, ‘Would you like a splash of water?’
‘No, thanks; the ice will be fine.’
Handing his boss the glass, Danny said, ‘Grab yourself a seat.’
As soon as the big Scot sat down, Danny also sat and said, ‘Is it just a social call?’
‘It is and it isn’t. I do have some news for you, but like I say, I was passing anyway.’
‘What’s the news?’
‘Before I left work this evening, I had sight of the Independent Police Complaints Commission report into the fatal shooting of Jimmy Wade.’
‘I see. Anything controversial in it?’
‘Not really. Well, nothing for us to worry about anyway. The Special Ops sniper team have been totally exonerated.’
‘I should think so, too. They did a fantastic job and without doubt saved Rachel’s life.’
Bill took a sip of the fiery whiskey, allowing the heat of the liquor to slowly dissipate over his tongue before saying, ‘They do have some words of criticism, though.’
‘Really?’
‘The IPCC are of the opinion that the firearms operation should have been handled differently.’
‘In what way, for Christ’s sake?’
‘Don’t worry. The report stipulates that their advice is only in the form of a recommendation. It’s not to be treated as a discipline issue.’
‘Go on, Bill. What do they say?’
‘They believe the operation may have resulted in no fatalities had the cottage been raided by a firearms team in a conventional manner rather than sending in a lone detective constable.’
‘And what about the possibility of rescuing any hostages?’
‘They acknowledge that was part of the thought process. That’s the reason their report is only advisory.’
‘Well, hallelujah! Hindsight’s always twenty-twenty vision, isn’t it?’
‘We both know that. As far as I’m concerned, and this also goes for the rest of the command corridor, what you did was spot on. There will be absolutely no criticism of the way the operation was handled from the command of Nottinghamshire Police. In fact, now that the IPCC report is about to come out exonerating the force, as I left the office earlier, the chief constable was busy drafting out commendations for the sniper team, Rachel Moore and yourself.’
‘Well, I appreciate that, but it’s still galling when they pass these comments from their ivory towers weeks after the event.’
‘How is Detective Moore? I heard she’s been troubled and unwell lately.’
‘I went to see her earlier today, when I got back from Newcastle. She’s got her brother Joe staying with her, looking after her. The doctor who saw her at the hospital has diagnosed PTSD, no doubt as a result of the incident with Jimmy fucking Wade!’
‘Prognosis?’
‘It’s good. The doctor has told her that with the correct counselling and support, there’s no reason why she shouldn’t make a full recovery.’
‘Well, that’s good news. I’ll make sure that young woman gets whatever it is she needs. Are you aware that the chief constable has nominated her to receive the Queens Police Medal for Gallantry?’
‘That’s the first I’ve heard of it. I hope he has, because if anyone deserves that recognition, it’s Rachel. She knew exactly what Wade was capable of, and still volunteered to go in and get him.’
‘The final decision will be made by the Home Secretary, but I think she stands a good chance of being awarded the honour.’
‘That would be great. Can I top up your glass?’
‘Go on then; if you’re twisting my arm, I will. Better make it half a small one this time, though. Thanks.’
As Danny topped up the glasses, Bill said, ‘Is everything tied up with the Tall Trees case now?’
‘Very much so. All the suspects involved in the death of Evan Jenkins have been arrested and charged. All of them are on remand in prison, pending a trial date. Hopefully, the trial will be sometime early next year.’
‘Can you believe the behaviour of that woman running the home? What was her name, Christine something?’
‘You mean Caroline Short.’
‘That’s her. What an evil bitch!’
‘I won’t argue with those sentiments. The real organiser of the group, and the driving force behind the child abuse offences, was Grenville Slater, the solicitor.’
‘He’s another evil bastard, that’s for sure, but you say you’ve got them all now?’
‘Every single one of them. The last one to be arrested and charged was the anaesthetist, William Baxter. He’s made full admissions now, like most of them. It’s only Slater who hasn�
��t admitted his part.’
‘Who’s doing the file for the job?’
‘It’s a massive job, but Brian Hopkirk’s bringing it all together.’
‘A good man, Brian. Very capable. What about the Wade case?’
‘Rob Buxton’s preparing the file, for the coroner.’
‘I understand there was some confusion about the role of this Braithwaite woman in all this. What’s the news with her, Danny?’
‘When she was eventually interviewed after the shooting, she stated that she’d been held prisoner by Wade following his escape from Rampton Hospital. She denied helping in the escape, and we couldn’t prove otherwise. She stated Wade had found his own way to her remote cottage and had remained there for the duration of the time he was on the run. The story she provided to the interviewers was horrendous. Apparently, she was repeatedly raped by Wade and beaten into submission. To such an extent that, eventually, she obeyed him without question.’
‘What about the sighting of the blonde woman at the pub where the first nurse was abducted? Was that her?’
‘She admits being there when both nurses were abducted, but she was too terrified to do anything else. All her actions were as a direct result of the extreme duress she felt in Wade’s presence.’
‘And we’re satisfied that’s the case, are we?’
‘We have no evidence to dispute her story. It seems she was as much a victim as the two nurses and the social worker. I’m sure Wade would have killed her too just as soon as she stopped being useful to him.’
‘Didn’t I read somewhere that Wade told DC Moore it was Braithwaite who had killed one of the nurses and the social worker?’
‘That’s what Wade said to her. That would be just the sort of manipulative games that psycho would play. Braithwaite stated during her interview that she was forced to watch Wade murder the three men. They were only killed after he’d held them captive for a few days, torturing them.’
‘After the bodies of Barnes, Williams and Ainsworth were recovered at South Lodge, did the post-mortem findings bear out her version of events?’
‘Totally. The examinations showed that all three men had been tortured prior to being killed.’
‘So what’s happened to Braithwaite?’
‘She’s being treated as a witness. She has provided a detailed statement for the coroner. Last I heard, she’s sold her story to a newspaper and made a lot of money. You know the type of thing: “My sheer hell living with the homicidal maniac Jimmy Wade. Blah! Blah! Blah!”’
‘Well, for some reason, that kind of stuff does sell newspapers. Is she still in the area?’
‘I’m not sure. She’s definitely not at South Lodge anymore. The cottage is up for sale.’
Bill Wainwright nodded, took another sip of his whiskey, and said, ‘I have got one last piece of very good news for you, Danny.’
‘That sounds interesting. I could always do with some good news.’
‘I was chatting with the chief constable the other day. I’ve informed him that within the next eighteen months, it’s my intention to retire.’
‘Congratulations, Bill. You’ve earned a long and happy retirement.’
‘That’s not the news. When I told him of my intention, the chief told me he intends to create a new post of assistant head of CID, with the rank of superintendent. He wants you to accept this new role, with a view to becoming my successor when I retire.’
‘Bloody hell! I didn’t see that coming.’
‘It would be perfect for you. You’ve got a new baby on the way; you’ll have more money, and another promotion within eighteen months. You and Sue would be set fair financially, and you’d get to spend more time at home with your wife and baby.’
‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘There’s only one answer required, Danny, and that’s yes.’
‘What about the MCIU?’
‘Your position would be advertised, but both Rob and Brian would make excellent chief inspectors running the Unit.’
‘How long have I got to make a decision?’
‘I was rather hoping you’d say yes straight away. What are you worried about?’
‘It really is a fantastic opportunity. My concern is that I wouldn’t be a detective anymore, that’s all.’
‘Danny, think about it logically. You would have the best of both worlds. You would be working sociable hours for ninety percent of the time and having weekends off with your family. You would still be able to dip in and out of the MCIU, as you would remain the Unit’s immediate line supervisor. Trust me on this: You could never stop being a detective.’
‘In that case, I’ll give you my answer now. It’s a definite yes. When’s it all likely to happen?’
‘I’ll talk to the chief constable tomorrow and tell him you want the job. All things being equal, you should be promoted into your new post within a month. Congratulations! I look forward to working alongside you, Superintendent Flint.’
Epilogue
16 November 1986
Moraira, Costa Blanca, Spain
The woman was gazing out to sea, watching the two sailing boats near the horizon.
With large dark glasses protecting her eyes against the glare of the sun on the ocean, she was the only customer at the tables.
The cosy, intimate coffee shop was situated right on the water’s edge, overlooking the marina at Moraira.
Since arriving in the small town and renting a spacious apartment that overlooked the medieval tower and the town’s beach, the woman had made the short walk to the coffee shop most mornings.
Moraira was a sleepy place, especially in the winter months. A lot of the tourist shops and bars had already closed for the winter.
It suited the woman in the dark glasses perfectly.
As was her habit, she had ordered the churros con chocolat and now waited patiently for the waitress to bring the cup of piping hot chocolate and the sugary lengths of deep-fried dough to her table.
Melissa Braithwaite had completely changed her appearance before leaving England five weeks ago to start her new life on the Costa Blanca.
The distinctive blonde bob hairstyle had gone. It had been replaced with a short, pixie-style cut that had been dyed jet black. She had continued to lose weight, due to the stress of her situation, and some of her curves had disappeared. The lines etched into her face, caused by her months of living with Wade, made her look older than her years.
She had holidayed in both Moraira and the neighbouring town of Javea as a small child with her parents. In those days, the town of Moraira had been little more than a coastal village, relying on the small fishing boats to bring cash into the economy.
With tourism starting to spread down the coast from the larger towns of Benidorm and Calpe, in recent years the town had grown rapidly.
The Costa Blanca was now serviced by two large airports at Alicante and Valencia.
Because the area held such pleasant memories for Melissa, it had seemed the perfect location to escape all the media attention following the death of Jimmy Wade.
In the immediate aftermath of the psychopath’s death, she had worried that the police would in some way find out she had been responsible for the deaths of at least two of the men. They already knew she had played a major role in the abduction of all three.
Melissa Braithwaite had feared she would be spending many years in prison.
As the police interviewed her, it soon became apparent to the intelligent Braithwaite that the police had absolutely no evidence linking her to the killings.
Everyone involved in that horrific chain of events was now dead.
Very quickly, she had adopted the role of the psychopath’s fourth victim.
She had invented a story that, somehow, Wade had tracked her down to her secluded woodland home.
Again, there was no one to dispute her version of events. Very soon, the police took a witness statement from her. They also offered her counselling for the trauma and sexual
abuse she had suffered at the hands of the escaped killer.
Braithwaite had immediately placed South Lodge on the market, unable to face returning to the secluded property.
She immediately had two cash buyers interested in the property and had left instructions with her solicitor to sell the property to the highest bidder in the shortest time possible. On completion of the sale, her solicitor was able to transfer the money directly into her new Spanish bank account.
She had used the money she made from selling her story to one of the red top tabloid newspapers to fund her move to the Costa Blanca.
As well as the newspaper money, a publisher had also approached her. He had paid her a substantial advance to write a book about her time spent as a prisoner of the notorious serial killer Jimmy Wade.
Financially, she was in a very good place.
Finally, the waitress brought out her churros con chocolat.
Melissa made no attempt to speak to the young girl, in either English or Spanish. She never made eye contact with the waitress, continuing to stare out at the ocean.
The waitress placed the food and drink on the table and left.
As Melissa dipped the churros into the hot chocolate drink, she wondered if she would ever be able to totally shake off the murderous thoughts she continued to have.
Those frightening, reoccurring thoughts were the legacy of what she had been forced to experience and endure whilst living at the cottage with Wade.
However hard she tried to force the memories of those experiences to the back of her mind, she could still vividly remember the tingle of pleasure she had felt as she snuffed out the lives of Fred Barnes and Stewart Ainsworth.
It didn’t matter how many times she told herself that the feelings were wrong and immoral, that the only reason she had killed the two men was to survive … deep down, she knew the truth was very different.
She was a changed and damaged woman.
The constant worry for Melissa was that one day, in the very near future, she would be unable to resist the urge to kill again.
A Cold Grave: A DCI Danny Flint Book Page 33
