White is the coldest colour: A dark psychological suspense thriller

by John Nicholl

  The dog suddenly became more interested in the ball than the scent, and jumped repeatedly against her handler’s legs.

  The constable cursed loudly… He’d distracted the animal just at the wrong time.

  He put the ball in a trouser pocket, reached into his tunic and took Anthony’s red tee-shirt from a clear plastic evidence bag, before bending down and holding it about ten-inches from the floor, allowing the Spaniel to sniff it repeatedly.

  ‘That’s it, girl, find, find.’

  The dog turned with a new enthusiasm for the game, and entered the kitchen on full alert. She quickly circumvented the room, sniffing every nook and cranny for any sign of the relevant scent. All of a sudden she lost any interest in the room’s peripheries, and focussed her entire attention on the tiled floor close to the centre of the kitchen where a single drop of Anthony’s saliva had fallen from his open mouth as Gary Davies carried him towards the cellar steps.

  The dog knew instantly that she’d achieved her initial goal. She sat, raised her head proudly in the air and barked once, as her search training dictated.

  The handler handed the eager spaniel her reward. ‘Good girl, good girl!’

  He turned towards the internal door and shouted, ‘The dog’s picked up on something in the kitchen. Stay where you are for the moment, I need to see if she can follow the scent.’

  He attached the dog’s lead to her black leather collar, patted the top of her head robustly, and walked slowly around the room, allowing the keen animal to take the lead. ‘That’s it, girl, find, find.’

  The Spaniel sniffed at every cupboard; the cooker, the fridge, the pantry, the dresser, but nothing. She repeatedly tried to return the centre of the floor, the scene of her earlier triumph, but the handler pulled her away on each and every occasion.

  One of the two female search officers appeared in the doorway, but didn't enter the room.‘What’s happening, Rob? Any joy?’

  ‘I’m sure the boy’s been here, but I don’t think he’s not here now. If you two have a good look in the cupboards and the like, I’ll take the dog out into the garden. The Mailer boy may well have been carried through the house and out through the conservatory.’

  ‘If you're right, he’s probably dead.’

  ‘You may well be right, Pam. All we can do is keep looking.’

  Chapter 45

  ‘I’ll have another one of your gourmet bacon roles please, love.’

  ‘One bacon role coming up. Another coffee?’

  ‘Yeah, why not live a little?’

  ‘I think you're wanted, Grav.’

  ‘Sorry to interrupt you, sir.’

  ‘What can I do for you, Constable?’

  ‘Pam’s been on the phone, sir, she want’s you to ring her back urgently.’

  The inspector pushed his plate to one side and jumped to his feet. ‘Thank you, Constable. Nice to see you doing something useful for a change.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  DI Gravel turned to Rankin, who had recently joined him and was finishing off an unappetising cheese and tomato sandwich. ‘I think it’s about time we had another chat with the doctor, Clive. He’s got to be sweating a bit by now. Collect him form the cells and I’ll see you in interview room two as soon as I’ve had a word with Pam.’

  ‘Will do, boss.’

  Come on, Pam. Pick the fucking phone up, girl. ‘Hello, Pam, it’s DI Gravel, about time. What have you got for me?’

  ‘It’s the dog, sir, she picked up a scent in the kitchen. She does this thing where he sits and barks when he finds the scent she’s looking for. Clever really! Rob say’s he’s never known the dog be wrong.’

  ‘Anywhere else?’

  ‘Sorry, sir?’

  ‘The scent, anywhere else…?’ He was clutching at straws.

  ‘No, sir, just the kitchen.’

  ‘Has Rob tried the garden?’

  ‘He’s out there now, sir, but nothing as yet.’

  ‘Any sign of recent digging or other ground work?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘He found a DIY tool under the earth in a flower bed, but he doesn't think it’s of any relevance.’

  ‘What sort of tool?’

  ‘Just a small thing with a plastic handle, Rob thinks it’s a glass cutter.’

  ‘Sounds like something and nothing.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s what we thought.’

  ‘But Rob’s certain that Anthony was at the house?’

  ‘Yes, sir, as sure as he can be.’

  ‘Go through the place methodically, Pam: every corner, every crevice. Tear the fucking place apart if you have to. If Anthony Mailer’s anywhere in that house I want him found.’

  Chapter 46

  Dr Galbraith stared at Gravel and Rankin across the small interview room table, meeting their eyes in turn, and waiting for one or the other to break the persuasive silence…… What the hell were they waiting for? Why the delay? Why no more questions?

  Suddenly the deafening white noise in the doctor’s head was silenced, and his facial muscles noticeably relaxed… The fools still hadn't found the cellar. It was the only logical explanation.

  He smiled with a newfound confidence. ‘Have you any further questions, Inspector, or have we finally reached the conclusion of this ridiculous charade?’

  DI Gravel scowled. ‘Surely you aren't still insisting that you’re innocent, Doctor?’

  Dr Galbraith shook his head slowly. ‘I find it incredible that you both consider that a man such as myself, a man who has dedicated the majority of his adult life to assisting troubled children and their families, could be guilty of such heinous criminal acts. I am entirely innocent of the crimes to which you refer. This entire process is an utter travesty. Why would I admit to something I haven't done?’

  The inspector stared at him incredulously. ‘You've heard the weight of evidence against you, Galbraith. Four children have given detailed video statements outlining numerous sexual offences. A fifth victim, now an adult, has made a written statement. The investigation is ongoing, and I have no doubt that other victims will be identified. And other suspects will talk. It’s in your interests to cooperate. Face facts, Doctor. It’s the only card you have left to play.’

  ‘Now that I think about it, I can perhaps understand why you would think I am guilty. But, with due respect, you are looking at an extremely complex situation rather too simplistically.’

  DI Gravel smiled humourlessly… The self-satisfied cunt. ‘I can’t wait to hear this.’

  ‘There are a number of hypothesis that could potentially explain these ludicrous allegations. What evidence have you got at the end of the day? Four young boys talking of alleged events which sound less than credible, at an unknown location or locations sometime in the unspecified past. A young man who claims to recall an assault some years ago. A young man with a history of psychiatric problems. Hardly the most reliable witnesses, wouldn't you agree?’

  ‘The evidence looks pretty solid to me, Galbraith.’

  ‘When will you people ever learn? I’ve seen it time and time again over the years: over zealous police officers unwisely jumping to the wrong conclusions. Innocent men being accused of unspeakable crimes. Have you people learnt nothing form events in Cleveland and the Orkneys? Well-meaning, but misguided pseudo professionals can implant false memories in vulnerable children's minds. Any knowledgeable expert in the field would tell you likewise. Leading questions can result in the acquisition of misinformation with the potential for miscarriages of justice. It is not unusual in this type of case for children to say exactly what the investigating social worker and police officer want them to say. They are simply recounting what they have gleaned as a result of ill-advised leading questions, rather than recalling real events. Your allegations are a manufactured fantasy and nothing more.’

  ‘All five witnesses have referred to you by name, Galbraith.’

  ‘As I’ve alre
ady stated more than once, I know of no white room, and I am entirely unfamiliar with the farm building you describe so unconvincingly. Have you even considered the possibility that someone with a grudge against me has stolen my identity?’

  Just for a fleeting moment a shadow of doubt crossed DI Gravel’s mind. ‘Nice try, Galbraith, but you're not fooling anyone. All five witnesses have described you perfectly.’

  ‘It is not unusual for victims to accuse a trusted authority figure rather than identify the actual offender, for fear of retribution.’

  ‘You're sounding increasingly desperate, Galbraith.’

  ‘You're making a big mistake, Inspector.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think so, Doctor. We’ve got more than enough evidence to charge you. I’m going to give you one last opportunity to cooperate. Where’s the boy?’

  ‘Boy? I have absolutely no idea who you're talking about. Perhaps it would be helpful if you could be more specific.’

  The DI clenched his fists tightly below the table. ‘Anthony Mailer, where is Anthony Mailer?’

  ‘Oh, Anthony Mailer? Anthony is my patient, but then you already knew that. Why would you think I know of his whereabouts? I first became aware that he was missing when I saw a report regarding his alleged abduction on the BBC Welsh evening news. Naturally, I am gravely concerned for his welfare. It’s a terrible business. Have you interviewed the father yet? Having met him during therapy, I think it advisable.’

  ‘Where is he, Galbraith?’

  Dr Galbraith issued an exaggerated sigh. ‘Have I not made myself perfectly clear time and time again? It seems I need to reiterate, despite my earlier comments. I am at a complete loss as to why you think I should know the answer to your preposterous question. I think it’s you who is becoming desperate, Inspector. Is the pressure getting to you, old man?’

  ‘Where was he taken, Galbraith?’

  ‘Am I supposed to know the answer to that? Do you think I’m clairvoyant?’

  ‘We have reason to believe that Anthony Mailer was at your home, Galbraith.’

  The doctor smirked dismissively. ‘Reason to believe? The very pretext of your question suggests a significant element of doubt in your proposition. I consider you would be well advised to stop wasting your time interviewing an innocent man, and attempt to locate Anthony before it’s too late.’

  ‘Molly Mailer saw you at her home seconds before she was viciously attacked. She saw you, Galbraith. She’s made a statement to that effect. Your footprints were found at the back of the cottage.’

  ‘Are you really that stupid, you ridiculous man? I have already explained this to you perfectly adequately; but I will try again despite your obvious limitations. Mrs Mailer has suffered a serious head injury. Most regrettable! I became quite fond of her during her son’s treatment. What you need to understand, Inspector, is that our brains can play tricks on us when subjected to extreme stress. Memories tend to become confused with dreams and even hallucinations in such cases. Anaesthetic and pain control medication can produce similar complex anomalies. I can assure you that any competent neurosurgeon or psychiatrist would tell you that her allegations are extremely unreliable at best. They certainly wouldn't qualify as credible evidence in a criminal court. Oh, and the footprints, I nearly forgot about the footprints for a second.’ He smiled and waited for a second or two before speaking again. ‘I think you'll find that there are quite a number of people with the same size feet as I. If I were to engage in such a crime, I would posses the foresight to wear the wrong size shoes. It seems a blatantly obvious precaution. I’m very sorry to disappoint you, Inspector, but that’s the way it is. Did you find any forensic evidence at my home? Anything to suggest the boy was ever there? Anything at all? I think not, or I’d have heard about it long before now.’

  DI Gravel slammed the side of his right fist down hard on the table in front of him… The cunt was right. When it came to the Mailer’s, he had fuck all.

  ‘You must try and calm yourself down, Inspector. Getting worked up in that manner really isn't good for a man of your advancing years and fleshy build. But, I’ll tell you one thing, as a doctor you understand. If the unfortunate young man is locked up somewhere, alone in the dark, hungry and dehydrated, terrified, chained to a radiator or bedstead possibly? In some dark attic or uninhabited building for example? Well, he’s not going to last very long is he. Pure conjecture you understand.’

  ‘Is that some sort of convoluted admission, Doctor?’

  The doctor felt his penis engorge with blood as he pictured the scene and magnified it in his mind. ‘Why would you think that, Inspector? I am simply attempting to draw your attention to the potential consequences of failing to address Anthony’s predicament with sufficient urgency. Shock tactics in my patient’s interests, so to speak. How long have you got to save him, Inspector? One-hour? Two-hours? Three-hours possibly? Or, maybe he’s dead already? What a tragedy that would be, particularly when you're wasting your limited time and resources interviewing an innocent man. The clock’s ticking, Inspector: tick, tock, tick, tock.’ He held a cupped hand up to his ear. ‘Can you hear it, Inspector?’

  DS Rankin took hold of the DI Gravel's arm, and held him back as he jumped to his feet and switched the tape off. ‘Don’t let the bastard get to you, Grav.’

  Dr Galbraith grinned contemptuously. ‘Temper, temper, Inspector. Given your unreasonable attitude I think it advisable to request a lawyer after all.’

  ‘Now you want a solicitor?’

  ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

  ‘We’ll arrange it.’

  ‘I think this may well be an opportune time to request refreshments. I’m sure one of you public servants can arrange that for me?’

  Chapter 47

  ‘Phillip Beringer please, it’s urgent.’

  ‘Grav?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘It’s Phil, I thought I recognised your dulcet tones. What can I do for you, mate?’

  ‘The two Galbraith girls, have they been interviewed yet?’

  ‘It's happening right now, Grav. Nothing much so far, to be honest.’

  ‘Nothing?’

  ‘They’re scared of their father, that's bloody obvious, but nothing specific, nothing criminal.’

  ‘Okay, Phil, can you do one thing for me?’

  ‘If I can, Grav, what is it?’

  ‘Am I right in thinking that you can speak to the interview team without actually interrupting the interview?’

  ‘Yeah, no problem, the police officer has a small earpiece. What do you need?’

  ‘I need to know if either of the girls saw a young boy in the house in recent days. A seven-year old boy with short ginger hair. This is fucking important, Phil. It looks as if Anthony Mailer was at the Galbraith house.’

  ‘I hear you, Grav. I'll get back to you straight away if we get anything useful. Before you go, I don't think we can justify having the Galbraith girls medically examined unless something else comes up? I'll talk to Mel and see what he thinks, but I doubt he'll say any different?'

  ‘Oh, I’m not so sure, Phillip. There's some fucking serious allegations against their father.’

  ‘I’ll talk to Mel and get back to you as soon as I can.’

  ‘I may well give him a ring myself. One last thing before I leave you in peace: I'm sending someone over there to interview Mrs Galbraith along the same lines. As a witness at this stage, although that may change as things develop.’

  ‘No problem, Grav, I'll make sure there's a room free.’

  Chapter 48

  Detective Constable Myra Thomas introduced herself to Cynthia with a limp handshake, and ushered her into in a small cluttered office at the social services children's resource centre. ‘Have a seat, Mrs Galbraith, I’ll fetch us both a hot drink before we make a start. Tea or coffee?’

  Was someone really going to make tea for her? ‘Tea, please, no milk or sugar.’

  ‘Try to relax, Mrs Galbraith. I’ll be back with you in two-m
inutes.’

  DC Thomas pushed the door open with her foot and handed Cynthia a cup and saucer. ‘There you go, Mrs Galbraith. Let’s make a start.’

  Cynthia rubbed her eyes, smearing meticulously applied mascara across one cheek.

  ‘What’s wrong, Mrs Galbraith?’

  ‘You’ve been so kind.’

  ‘You’ve had a difficult day, Mrs Galbraith. You're bound to be feeling emotional. Anyone would be in the circumstances.’

  ‘I saw my parents. They collected my daughters after their interviews. I hadn't seen them since my wedding day. The girls had never met them before.’

  ‘Really? How long have you been married?’

  ‘Over seven-years!’

  ‘Do your parens live a long way from you?’

  ‘No, just down the road.’

  The detective looked puzzled. ‘Then, why haven't you seen them?’

  ‘My husband forbade it.’

  ‘He prevented you seeing them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Are you scared of your husband, Cynthia?’

  Cynthia Galbraith nodded ever so subtly, but said, ‘He wouldn't want me to talk to you about that.’

  ‘Dr Galbraith is in custody, Cynthia. He can’t hurt you anymore.’

  Silence.

  ‘We need your help, Cynthia.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘A child is missing, Cynthia. A seven year old little boy called Anthony with short red hair. His mother was attacked and he was taken from his home. It was a vicious assault. We believe that your husband had something to do with his disappearance. Have you seen the boy, Cynthia? Can you help us find him?’

  Cynthia closed her bleary eyes, and began repeatedly rocking back and fore in her seat… Was the nice officer asking about that child the man she didn't know had carried into the house in the middle of the night? He may have had red hair? It was short, and it could have been ginger? It was hard to tell in the orange sodium glow of the street lamps. Her husband was in attendance at the time. He must know all about it. Maybe he could tell the police what they wanted to know? Perhaps it was something to do with his work? He’d told her a thousand times how important it was. It was never to be interrupted. Never! Yes, that must be it. It was probably best not to say anything at all.