Cut to the Bone

by Roz Watkins

  The pig bit the coat and inadvertently dragged it slightly towards me. My pulse quickened.

  ‘She dragged it,’ I said, ‘but I need to get her to drag your dad’s coat, not this dummy one.’

  ‘Can you throw the dummy coat near to Dad’s coat? Just keep away from her teeth.’

  I picked up the coat and threw it close to Tony’s discarded one. The pig was now totally focused on it. She knew it was the answer to getting food. She touched it, bit it, then pulled at it. She dragged it towards me. I could feel the excitement rising. For the first time, it occurred to me that this might actually work.

  I threw the food nearer to Tony’s coat. We were getting there, but it was taking too long. The carbon monoxide was flowing into the room below. I tried to slow my breathing. To stay calm.

  The pig reached for her food and in doing so noticed Tony’s coat. She froze. Confusion. Which coat should she focus on? She stood still. Thinking. She was going to panic.

  ‘I think it’s the blood,’ I said. ‘Your dad’s coat’s soaked in it. She’s just standing there.’

  ‘What’s happening?’ I could hear the anxiety in Bex’s voice.

  Then I heard someone moving outside the barn.

  55

  ‘Bex, are you okay?’ I called. ‘Are you still okay?’

  Bex was losing some of her calm composure. ‘We’ll be fine. You have to keep going, Meg. All you can do is keep going.’

  The pig twitched one ear towards Tony’s blood-soaked coat. We were back on. My breath was coming fast and my heart pounding. I rewarded every tiny step the pig made. When she swivelled one eye towards the coat. When she twitched her nose at it. When she took a tentative step towards it.

  In the background was the gentle hiss of the carbon monoxide being released into the sealed room below me.

  The pig made a sharp movement and I clicked too soon. She hadn’t been going for the coat.

  The pig froze. Gave me a look as if to say, You’re the worst trainer ever, but I think I’ve got it. Then she very deliberately leaned forward and bit Tony’s coat. I felt like screaming, but I calmly clicked and threw a big handful of food at her.

  ‘She bit your dad’s coat,’ I said.

  There was no reply. The pig munched on the pellets.

  I heard another noise outside the barn.

  ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘I think he’s coming back.’

  I tried to control my breathing, keeping calm for the pig. She needed me to watch her every muscle twitch. My timing had to be perfect.

  The pig snuffled into the coat, not biting at it but getting her face deep into its folds. I took a chance. Didn’t click. The pig gave me a slightly pissed-off look and pawed at the coat. Oh God, another behaviour I didn’t want. I didn’t click. Couldn’t speak. I tried not to listen to the sounds from outside the barn. To the hissing of the gas.

  The pig bit the coat. Thank God. She bit and pulled. She dragged the coat slightly towards me.

  Thankfully, the pig never tried dragging the coat in the wrong direction. She knew that good things were coming from me. She pulled it closer. And closer. I was ready to get it as soon as it came within reach.

  ‘I think I can get it.’ I was only talking to myself now. There were no more noises from below.

  I shifted forward, quickly but smoothly. ‘Oh my God,’ I whispered. ‘I’ve got it. I don’t fucking believe it.’ I threw a huge handful of pig food on the floor, scattering it for the pig to eat.

  I dragged the coat to me and pulled the key from the pocket.

  I fiddled with the key and eventually managed to shove it into my handcuff. It flipped open.

  Hardly able to believe I was free, I crept to the other side of the barn and looked at the keypad. I didn’t know how to shut the carbon monoxide off. And I couldn’t get into the basement without knowing the code.

  I ran to the edge of the barn, slid the door open an inch, and peered out. I was sure I’d heard noises from outside the barn a few minutes earlier. Tony was out there somewhere and I didn’t know what state he was in. What’s more, as a farmer, he most likely owned a shotgun.

  The barn was isolated from the house, on the edge of the woods. It was approached by a dirt track that you could drive along, and Tony’s car was parked at an angle with a door open. He was nearby.

  I inched the barn door closed again, and crept back in to look for some kind of weapon.

  The pig was still snuffling around hoovering up the last of the pellets. The other pigs were grunting softly, and the hissing was steady in the background.

  The blood-soaked knife was on the floor where I’d dropped it when I’d stabbed Tony. I picked it up.

  A noise outside.

  I dashed back to the wall and slumped down where he’d chained me earlier. The knife was next to me, hidden from sight.

  The barn door slid open.

  Tony walked in. He was moving stiffly, and a bandage encased his middle. He was wearing a coat identical to the blood-soaked one on the floor. He must have had a few of them – standard-issue farmer-coats.

  He was carrying a shotgun.

  His eyes flicked to the pig, who was trying to get the remaining pellets, snuffling and stamping on the coat on the floor.

  Could Tony see that the coat was closer than when he’d left, close enough for me to reach? He gave no indication that he’d noticed.

  He walked over to me, holding the gun loosely. It hadn’t occurred to him that I might not be chained any more.

  I peered at the shotgun. It looked like the safety catch was on.

  A noise from the cellar below. Tony turned towards it.

  I hurled myself at him, knocking him to the floor. The gun fell and I grabbed it.

  Tony struggled to his feet. Tried to lunge at me. I kicked him in the face and pointed the gun at him. I shifted away so he couldn’t reach me, keeping the gun aimed at him.

  ‘You’re going to walk to the wall,’ I said, ‘and you’re going to put that cuff on and lock it. The key’s still in it. Go on. Move. I’m watching.’

  He eyed me. I wasn’t close enough that he could leap at me, or knock the gun from my hand.

  He took a step towards me and held his hand out. ‘No, come on, give me my gun.’

  I thought of his wife downstairs, kept there for thirty years. His daughter who’d never seen daylight. ‘I fucking mean it.’ I flicked the safety catch off. ‘I won’t hesitate to kill you.’

  He stepped back and sank down against the wall. ‘You can’t leave me here. The carbon monoxide …’

  I kicked the knife away so he couldn’t reach it. ‘Put the cuff on,’ I said.

  When he looked up at me again, I could see the fight had gone out of him. He slumped and reached for the cuff. Put it around his wrist. I waited while he locked it and threw me the key.

  ‘Show me it’s locked,’ I said, and he tugged at the cuff. ‘Tell me the code to stop the carbon monoxide.’

  Tony looked up at me and opened his mouth, but then his eyes glazed over and he slumped sideways, eyes closed.

  ‘Tony!’ I yelled. ‘Wake up! Tell me the code!’

  There was no response. He lay wedged against the wall.

  ‘I’ll shoot your legs off,’ I shouted.

  No response. Maybe he really had passed out. We were so close, but the women were going to die if I couldn’t get that door open. I fired the gun at the pipe carrying the carbon monoxide. The loose pig careered across the barn and the other pigs squealed. I whispered an apology to them. The gun had blasted a hole in the tube. I ran and opened the barn door wide. But there was already too much carbon monoxide in the basement.

  I crept towards Tony. He hadn’t jumped when I’d fired the gun. If he was unconscious, I needed to get his keys from his pocket and open up the house to get access to a phone.

  ‘Bex!’ I shouted. ‘Are you okay?’

  No response. I pictured them dead or brain-damaged.

  I put the gun down, and the key to the hand
cuffs. If Tony was faking, I couldn’t risk him grabbing those. I crept closer to him. Still no sign of life.

  I reached out and slipped my hand into the pocket nearest me. No keys. I groped around to the other pocket. No keys. My pulse was pounding in my ear. I slowly unzipped Tony’s coat and slipped my hand inside to feel for the inner pocket.

  He grabbed my arm. And punched me in the face. I gasped. The agony in my nose blinded me. Colours spiralled through my head – reds and purples and exploding golds – and my ears roared. He hit me again.

  I pulled back and lunged at his stomach, where the knife had gone in. Pulled off the bandage.

  He kicked me, and connected with my bad ankle. Always my bad ankle. I cried out and plunged my hand into his side. Into his wound. He screamed and fell back. The loose pig let out a squeal of alarm and shot out of the barn door.

  I staggered away from Tony and grabbed the gun.

  My voice was low and full of pain and fury. ‘I swear to God, you fucker, I will shoot your arm off and use your thumbprint. Just tell me the fucking code.’

  He was clutching his side. ‘Okay, okay. Get us out of here.’

  I ran to the door and waited. He shouted a six-figure code and I tapped it in to the keypad. The door popped open.

  ‘What’s the code for the bottom door?’ I shouted.

  ‘The first five primes in reverse order.’ And he passed out.

  ‘Oh for God’s sake.’ I dragged myself down the steps, blood smearing my vision. Hesitated while I convinced myself he wouldn’t have included the number 1, and then typed 11, 7, 5, 3, 2.

  The door clicked and I pushed it open. ‘Bex! Violet!’

  There was no sign of them.

  I rushed forward and pulled open the door to one of the bedrooms. Nothing.

  Oh God, were they already dead in the other room? I opened the door.

  They were there. Still alive.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Bex spoke far too slowly. ‘You did it.’

  They were groggy and pale, their lips an uncanny cherry red. Violet staggered ahead of us. I took Nina’s hand and Bex took Sofia’s. We dragged them up the stairs and into the barn.

  Ignoring Tony’s shouts, I wrenched the barn door wide open, to the first daylight Nina had seen for thirty years.

  Sofia stopped at the edge of the barn and refused to move, her pale skin and hair looking unearthly in the pink light. We couldn’t delay; there was too much carbon monoxide inside the barn. Bex and I released the remaining pigs, and then the four of us dragged Sofia whimpering into a world she’d never seen.

  56

  Meg – A Week Later

  ‘I never meant to hurt anyone.’ Tony Nightingale spoke quietly, looking at his hands which were curled in his lap. He’d survived the stabbing, with a little help from the NHS. He looked tiny in our interview room, much smaller than he’d seemed in his own house or when he was trying to kill me. He had his own solicitor, but the man kept giving him shocked sideways looks as if he couldn’t quite comprehend what Tony had done. There had never been a case like this in the UK before.

  The recording apparatus was on. Jai was next to me. My eyes and nose were still bruised, my wrist painful and my throat not quite right, but I was okay. Ready for this. We had plenty on Tony. What I was after was evidence of Kirsty’s involvement. We didn’t have enough on her, even though I was sure she’d killed Gary, wearing Daniel’s overalls, and then doctored Daniel’s painkillers to murder him too. If she ever recovered I wanted her in a secure psychiatric unit for the rest of her life.

  Tony looked up and caught my eye before looking down again. ‘How is Nina?’ he asked. ‘And Sofia?’

  ‘As well as can be expected,’ I said. ‘They’re being looked after.’

  ‘Sofia might not cope,’ he said. ‘With being outside.’

  ‘You can let us deal with that. You’ve done enough. Now you’d better tell us what happened with Violet Armstrong.’

  ‘Will it help me if I cooperate?’ He looked at his solicitor, who gave a quick nod.

  ‘It will definitely be taken into account,’ I said. He’d be going nowhere for a long time either way.

  Given that he was being interviewed by the person he’d drugged, punched, knocked out, chained to a wall, and imprisoned with his family who he’d kept locked up for thirty years, Tony seemed to realise he wasn’t in a strong position to deny anything. He let out a breath of air. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘Do you admit to abducting Violet Armstrong and holding her against her will?’

  ‘You make it sound terrible. They had everything in there. A good life. A safe life.’

  ‘You abducted Violet?’

  ‘She told me she made videos,’ he said quietly, almost beseechingly. ‘People were threatening her. How could I let her go again, knowing she was going to get hurt? It was the same with Bex. Why did she have to come back to Gritton?’ He wrung his hands together, squirming in his chair. ‘I didn’t want to have to do it. I couldn’t help myself.’

  ‘You drugged Violet?’

  He said nothing, his breathing coming heavily.

  ‘You drugged her, Tony?’ I made my voice loud and he shrunk back, playing the poor old man. As if I was going to buy that after what he’d done to me.

  He nodded slightly. Glanced at the recording apparatus and whispered, ‘Yes.’

  ‘And then what?’

  Tony swallowed.

  ‘And then what? I’m not buying this feeble old man act. Tell us what you did next. When did you call Kirsty?’

  He shook his head. ‘It was me. I did it all. Not Kirsty. But I only did it for Violet’s own good. She was putting herself in danger.’

  ‘It’s all right, Tony. We know Kirsty came up with the plan. We know it was her idea to put the blood and hair in the pig troughs. Violet heard you talking to her, remember? Kirsty wanted to make it look like Violet had been fed to pigs. It was very clever of her.’

  I saw a flush of parental pride. Unbelievable. He spoke softly. ‘It wasn’t Kirsty’s fault. I did it, not her.’

  ‘What did she tell you to do?’

  ‘It was all my idea.’ He was still protecting Kirsty. Denying what she was.

  ‘Tell us then. What did you do?’

  ‘He deserved to be punished for what he did to Lucas. He was living on borrowed time. I made it look like he killed Violet.’

  I kept my voice steady. ‘Daniel Twigg?’ My misery and anger was so strong I had to clutch the table to steady myself.

  Tony nodded. ‘Yes. He killed Lucas. So because of that he deserved to die.’

  I wanted to scream at Tony. You stupid, gullible, crazy fucking man. Daniel was a good person. He didn’t deserve to die. Tony didn’t even believe this crap – it had come from Kirsty.

  Instead I said calmly, ‘What did you do?’

  Tony raised an eyebrow at his solicitor, who nodded. There was really no defence for any of this.

  Speaking in little more than a whisper, Tony said, ‘I put gloves on, and overalls and a hat, and foot covers.’

  ‘Speak up please,’ I said.

  Tony coughed. ‘We have foot covers for going into the house in muddy boots. And … er, I shaved off Violet’s hair, and I got some of the big syringes the vet gives us, for taking blood samples from the pigs. The ones with anticoagulant in them. And I …’ He hesitated. ‘I took as much blood from Violet as I could, while she was still drugged with the pig-sedative.’ He looked down at the table and coughed again. ‘She started waking up. I took off all her clothes and her necklace and put everything in a plastic bag.’

  This was utterly chilling, but I tried not to react. I wanted him to speak freely. ‘Okay. Then what?’

  ‘Can we take a break?’ he whispered. He looked dejected, almost as horrified by what he’d done as we were. I was sure Kirsty had come up with this plan, but he was the one who’d carried it out.

  ‘Not yet,’ I said.

  He sighed. ‘I am sorry. I never meant
for it to get so out of hand.’

  ‘What did you do next?’

  ‘I took a sack of pig pellets, and Violet’s keys and I drove her car to the abattoir.’

  So someone else had driven that car. He must have put the seat back and then moved it forward again, but too far.

  ‘Did you deliberately drive past Mrs Ackroyd’s house?’

  He nodded quickly. ‘Poor woman never sleeps. But you can’t see who’s driving the car from her house. The street lamp reflects off the windscreen and she’s short-sighted anyway. And there’s a camera on that road too.’

  I nodded. ‘And you gave yourself an alibi?’

  He looked surprised for a moment, then said, ‘Yes. I pulled over just after I passed the CCTV. My robot has a camera so I could see what he was doing via 4G. Luckily there’s a signal in that area. He has twelve servo-motors so his arms move almost like a human. He can make coffee. Dialling Bex wasn’t hard. And he has a microphone and a speaker so I could talk to Bex’s answerphone.’ Some of Tony’s natural confidence came back as he said that, and I was more certain than ever that the sad-old-man act was faked. I guessed this bit had been his idea, not Kirsty’s. ‘And I got my robot to watch TV,’ he added.

  Without even being consciously aware of it, we’d been fooled by the unmodernised house, the old phone, the man who’d aged before his time. And we’d assumed, with it being an old-fashioned dial phone, that he must have been there to make the call.

  ‘So you let yourself into the abattoir and fed your bag of pellets to the pigs?’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘As many as they’d eat. So it would look like they’d had a big meal.’

  ‘And then?’

  He looked down. ‘I put the blood and a few hairs in the trough.’

  I nodded. ‘And then …’

  He took a gulping breath and said, ‘Okay. I found the cubicles where the workers kept their belongings, and put Violet’s car keys, laptop and bag in hers. Daniel lives in a caravan so he showers and shaves at the abattoir, and keeps a stack of spare overalls there. And his razor was there too. He hadn’t even locked his cubicle. I took one of his overalls and put some of her blood on it, put that and the razor in the bag with Violet’s stuff, and put it in the Cat 2 waste. And I put some of Violet’s blood on Daniel’s boots and left them in the locker.’