by Tiana Carver
Mickey had gone down to the offices of Fenton Associates, phoned her first, asked to meet her outside. He was hoping she would think it was something to do with the previous night, something he didn’t want her work colleagues to hear. She did. Came to the front of the building.
‘Hi,’ she had said, eyes as bright as her smile.
He imagined her preparing that smile while she walked down, checking in the mirrors to see that it had the correct wattage.
He had brought her straight down. ‘I need you to come down to the station.’
The smile had wavered. ‘Why, what’s wrong?’
‘Can’t say. I just need you to come with me straight away.’ He had pointed to his car.
The smile disappeared completely. He watched her face closely, saw calculation. Knew what would come next.
‘I think there’s a mistake,’ she said.
‘No mistake, I’m afraid. We need to talk to you at the station. Straight away.’
He wouldn’t let her go back inside the building, wouldn’t let her get her jacket, bag or phone. ‘Someone’ll call work, tell them where you are.’
The drive to Southway had been silent. He hadn’t even looked at her. Couldn’t bear to. He knew she would be hating him. He could tell by the way her chest rose and fell in his peripheral vision.
He had put the radio on to fill the silence. Radio One.
‘Love a bit of Lady Gaga,’ he had said, after attempting to sing along. ‘But I still don’t know what she really looks like. You see her with that many disguises on, when you actually see what she looks like, you just can’t recognise her, can you?’
Lynn hadn’t answered.
And now he was observing her. Beneath the anger he sensed fear. She looked isolated, cut off. Good. That was how he wanted her. Suffering. And it had nothing to do with the way she had played him the previous night, he told himself. Oh no. Purely professional.
‘Marina,’ said Mickey.
She waited.
‘Don’t tell Anni about this.’ He kept his eyes on the glass.
‘About you and Lynn Windsor?’
Mickey nodded. ‘Yeah. I don’t want her to … think less of me. She’s a good friend.’
‘Right. I won’t.’
‘Thanks.’ He sighed. ‘I phoned the hospital. She’s doing OK. Sleeping. I’ll try to get to see her later.’
‘She’d like that.’
‘So would I.’
They stared at Lynn Windsor some more.
‘Right,’ Mickey said, ‘how are we going to play this?’
‘Same as usual. I’ll be in here watching her. You get the questions going. I’ll chip in as and when.’
Mickey nodded. Placed his earpiece in. ‘Wish Phil was here. He’s better at this than me.’
Marina gave a smile. Mickey sensed a sad, faraway quality to it. ‘You’ll be fine. You always are.’
He nodded. ‘Right. In I go.’
He left the observation room. The door closed silently behind him.
Marina watched through the glass. Checked her mic. Everything was fine. She took a seat at the desk. As she did so, her phone rang.
She looked down at her bag, mentally chastising herself. She’d thought she had turned it off. Sighing, she picked it up, ready to kill it. Saw the readout. Phil. She looked at the window, saw Mickey enter the room. Looked at the phone.
Answered it.
‘It’s me,’ said Phil.
‘Hi,’ said Marina, distracted by watching Mickey sit down. Lynn Windsor stare at him with undisguised hatred. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m fine. Listen, I’ve got some things to tell you.’
Marina felt torn once more. She wanted to talk to him –needed to – but he had picked a terrible time. She had to tell him that. He would understand. He was a professional.
‘Can we do this later? I’m sorry, but Mickey’s just got someone in the interview room and I’m working the obs.’
‘Who?’ Phil said. ‘Who’s he got?’
‘Lynn Windsor. The solicitor.’
She heard him cover the mouthpiece, say something she couldn’t catch. There was someone else in the room with him. He came back to her. ‘That’s good. Keep her there. I’ve got some stuff to tell you. And I’ve got to tell you now.’
‘Does it have to be now?’
‘Yes. It concerns Lynn Windsor. And Brian Glass. How they’re connected, and how dirty he is.’
‘Stay on the line,’ she said, heart suddenly racing. ‘I may need you.’
‘Pleasure to be back in business,’ he said.
102
Mickey sat down opposite Lynn.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘this is nice.’
‘Is this how you repay all the women you’ve slept with?’ said Lynn, with barely suppressed anger. ‘Haul them in for questioning?’
‘Not all of them. Only the special ones.’
‘What d’you want to know? Who else I’ve slept with? Did I use protection? Have I had a check-up recently? Bit late for all that now.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, ‘too late.’
She looked at the machine next to her. ‘You going to record this? Because the first thing I’m going to say is that you slept with me. That anything I say consequently will be considered tainted testimony. That nothing will stand up in court.’
She sat back, pleased with herself.
Mickey smiled. ‘Absolutely. I wasn’t going to do this interview under caution, but if you’d prefer it that way, then fair enough.’
‘I would.’
Mickey readied the recorder.
‘You’re doing great, Mickey,’ said Marina in his ear. ‘Keep her like that. Keep her angry. She thinks she’s superior to you. Cleverer than you. She thinks she’s going to beat this. She’s so arrogant she hasn’t asked for a solicitor. Thinks because she is one she knows it all. Even criminal law. Keep her that way.’
Mickey gave a small nod, hoped Marina caught it.
‘Interview commencing at …’ He started talking for the benefit of the recorder. He gave his name, Lynn Windsor’s name, cautioned her, stated the time. Got her to say she had turned down the offer of a solicitor. Then he was ready to start.
Her lips were curled at the edges. Ready for battle, thought Mickey. Ready to defeat him. He swallowed. Hoped that wouldn’t be the case.
‘Lynn, I—’
‘Can I just stop you there, Detective Sergeant,’ she said. She smiled. ‘I realise I’m under caution and this is a formal interview. I should also like to state, for the recording, that last night you came round to my flat and had sex with me.’
She sat back, knowing what the repercussions of her statement would be, waiting for his response. She smiled. Mickey took his time.
‘Yes I did,’ he said eventually. ‘I should say it was at your invitation. And that the sex was entirely consensual. And, I should add, highly enjoyable.’
She sat forward. That wasn’t what she had expected him to say. Her eyes darted around the room.
‘In fact,’ continued Mickey, ‘it was last night I wanted to talk to you about. You see, when I accepted your invitation to come over, I didn’t consider you to be involved in the investigation I’m currently working on. However, as a result of spending the night with you, I’m not convinced of that at all.’
He reached into his pocket, brought out her business card. He had put it in a plastic bag. Thought it looked more official that way. He placed it on the table between them.
‘Do you recognise this?’
She looked at it, looked back at him.
‘Do you?’
She nodded.
‘Can you speak up, please? For the benefit of the recording.’
‘Yes,’ she said croakily, her mouth suddenly dry.
‘And what is it?’
She cleared her throat. ‘My business card.’
‘Right. Your business card. And could you look at that card for me, please?’
She bent ov
er, looked at it.
‘Could you confirm that’s your mobile number on it?’
‘Yes.’ Fear began to dance in her eyes. He knows, her expression said.
Mickey suppressed a smile, fed off it, became more confident. He was circling, closing in on her. But he didn’t want to get cocky, didn’t want to lose the interview and her too. So he kept it controlled.
‘Now, this is my mobile phone.’ He took his phone out, placed it on the table. ‘Could you tell me why your number appears in the address book?’
She shrugged. ‘You must have put it there. Intending to see me again. It’s not going to happen now.’
‘All right, I’ll rephrase the question. Can you tell me why your number is in my phone next to the name of one of my informants? And why the text message he sent me yesterday never got through? And why I received a different one instead with entirely different information in it? Can you explain any of that?’
Lynn Windsor said nothing. Just stared at him. Hatred burning in her eyes.
His mind flashed back to the way she had been the night before. It was hard to believe it was the same woman. He put the image out of his mind, concentrated.
‘So you don’t know how my informant’s text was intercepted and changed.’
‘No.’
‘And your number substituted for his.’
‘No.’
‘Sure?’
She sighed. Aiming for irritated, unable to suppress the fear beneath it. ‘This is ridiculous.’ She was trying to inject strength into her voice, but it was too shaky. ‘This is pathological. You’re just … just … taking out your own guilt for sleeping with me on … on … like this.’
Mickey gave a pantomime frown. ‘I don’t feel guilty about what we did. Do you?’
Her eyes darted about the room once more, like sparrows trapped in a barn.
‘If you’re … if you’re quite finished, I’ll … I’ll go …’
Her hands on the table, trying to stand. Wanting to walk out. Wanting it all to end.
‘Sit down, please, Lynn.’ Mickey’s voice strong, authoritative.
She sat down.
He heard Marina’s voice in his ear.
‘Right, Mickey, you’ve got her. Now. Trust me on this. Ask her about the Gardener.’
Mickey frowned.
‘The Gardener. Just ask her where the Gardener is. And how you can find him. Trust me. Do it.’
Mickey leaned forward across the table. Hands together, voice low, as if in conspiracy. Us against the world, his body language said. You’re in trouble but I’m the one who can get you out of it.
‘Lynn …’
She looked up at him. Up close, he saw the depth of fear in her eyes. He was glad he wasn’t scared of whatever it was that was scaring her.
Or whoever.
‘Lynn … where can I find the Gardener?’
And the fear he had just seen in her eyes was nothing compared to the fear that was there now.
103
The Gardener straightened up. Looked round. Smiled.
The sacrifice chamber had been filled with flowers. Bunches had been made up, colours and scents carefully combined, positioned at the correct stations round the room. The rest had been strewn over the floor. The smell was becoming overpowering in the confined space. Decay had already started.
Good. That was just how the Gardener wanted it. Needed it.
For the sacrifice.
The candles were in place too. But he had resisted the temptation to start burning them early. The room was cold and dark. He had put on another layer. Navigated by torchlight.
He looked over to the cage. The boy was silent. Curled up in a corner, still wearing the thin back-tied gown from the hospital. Bruises on his hands and arms where needles had been yanked out. Head tucked in. Shivering.
It didn’t matter. Soon he would be beyond cold and beyond heat.
Soon he would be nothing more than the spark that kept the flame of the Garden alight. Keeping it alive.
Until the next sacrifice.
And the next.
He crossed to the workbench. Put the torch down. Picked up his first tool. A sickle. He didn’t need to touch it. He could see how sharp it was just by looking. By the way it caught the torchlight, sent it bouncing round the walls. He replaced it. Picked up the torch again.
Turned and left the chamber.
There was nothing to do now except wait.
For the right time.
Wait.
And savour.
104
‘The Gardener,’ said Mickey once more, ‘how can we find him?’
Lynn Windsor looked close to breaking down. She was shaking. Mickey had never seen anyone literally shake with fear.
‘I … I …’
He pressed on. ‘Just tell me, Lynn. It’ll be so much easier for you if you do. Tell me. Where’s the Gardener?’
‘I … I … don’t know …’
He sighed. ‘I think you can do better than that. You’re so unhappy, so scared. Just tell me and it’ll all feel much better. Come on.’
Heads nearly touching, hands nearly together, he was close to cracking her. He could feel it. One last try. A gentle push to take her over the edge.
‘Come on, Lynn …’
Then he heard Marina’s voice once more. ‘Good, Mickey. Here’s something else. If that doesn’t work, ask her about the Elders.’
Mickey gave a puzzled frown to the window. Small, so only Marina could catch it.
‘Please. Trust me. Ask her about the Elders. Ask her where they are. She’s the Teacher. Tell her you know that.’
Marina’s voice disappeared. Mickey was left alone with Lynn Windsor. He didn’t understand what Marina had said. But what she had fed him seemed to be having the right effect. So he would continue, pretend he felt more confident than he did. Use the words. See what they did.
‘Lynn … what about the Elders? What would they say?’
Her head jerked up in shock. Her eyes, tearful, rimmed red and black from crying and make-up, locked on to his. Stared at him. Her hand reached out for his. Grasped it and clung on, like he was the last life raft on the Titanic.
‘The Elders, Lynn. Would they be happy to see you here like this?’
She was shaking now, like she was about to fall apart. Both psychologically and physically, thought Mickey.
‘That’s right about the Elders, isn’t it? You are the Teacher, after all.’
Mickey had no idea what he was saying, but he couldn’t believe the effect the words were having on her.
‘Come on. Just tell me …’
She looked up once more, imploring him, her mouth moving but no sound emerging.
‘Come on, Lynn …’ Mickey’s voice barely above a whisper. The intimacy between them even deeper than that they had shared the previous night. ‘Tell me. And it’ll be all over …’
She reached forward for him, hands clinging desperately to him, working her way up his arms. Grabbing him, holding him, just about crawling over the table to be near him.
‘Please …’ Her voice was broken, almost shattered in pieces. A vocal manifestation of her mental state. ‘Please, help me … help me …’
‘I will,’ said Mickey, whispering once more, not wanting to break the moment. ‘I will. Tell me where the Gardener is and I’ll help you. I promise.’
She put her head on his arms, sobbing.
‘Tell me. Please.’
She looked up, mind made up, mouth open, ready to speak.
And then the door burst open.
‘What the fuck’s going on here?’
Mickey turned. DCI Glass was standing behind him.
And he didn’t look happy.
105
‘What the hell were you thinking of?’
Glass was in the observation room with Mickey and Marina. The room was so small, it was crowded with just one person in it. But three, standing there amidst all the old filing cabinets and broken of
fice furniture, made it look massively overcrowded. It also made Glass seem even angrier. Mickey could almost feel the heat from the DCI’s words as they left his mouth.
Behind them, Lynn Windsor sat at the table. Sobbing, wiping her eyes with a tissue. Next to her, a consoling arm around her shoulder, was her boss, Michael Fenton. His head close to hers, whispering. The sound was switched off. They couldn’t hear what he was saying.
Mickey turned to Glass, realising that the question wasn’t rhetorical and he was expecting an answer.
Marina got there first. ‘In the absence of anyone else in the office, Mickey came to me,’ she said. ‘He had strong suspicions about Lynn Windsor. She’d been questioned already but he thought she would benefit from a more formal interview.’
Mickey studied Marina as she spoke. She was watching Glass’s responses, wary. As if she was measuring her words, careful of what she said to him. Mickey had found himself doing that with Glass because he didn’t trust him, but Marina’s actions confirmed that he was doing the right thing.
‘And what made you think that?’
Again, Marina spoke before Mickey could. ‘We received information that she was in some way connected with the abductor and would-be murderer of the boy taken from the hospital.’
‘What kind of information?’
‘Something to do with the Gardener?’ Marina kept her face as blank as possible while she spoke.
The effect on Glass was immediate. It was clear he knew what she was talking about. It was equally clear that he was trying to pretend he didn’t. He waited a few seconds, absorbing the information, letting his features settle down, preparing his response.
‘What … what d’you mean? Who’s the Gardener?’
‘He’s the person we believe is responsible for the boy’s abduction,’ said Mickey.
Glass turned to him. Face like stone, eyes like granite. ‘And what would make you believe that?’
‘Information received from an informant,’ said Mickey. ‘A confidential informant. It … involved Lynn Windsor. So I made the decision to bring her in for questioning.’
‘But how could she … how could she know anything? She’s a solicitor, for God’s sake.’
