by Ben Cheetham
A muted sob of relief shook her as Gavin took some clothes out of an overhead cupboard. He pulled on a pair of beige trousers and a red-checked shirt. Tipping what appeared to be a bundle of blonde hair from a bag, he moved to stand in front of a mirror. He placed the wig on his head and carefully arranged it so that the mop of hair overlapped his ears, concealing the bandage. He turned to Emily. ‘How do I look?’
Like the fucking freak you are, she thought. The wig contrasted oddly with Gavin’s dark eyes, giving him a camp look that Emily would have found comical if she hadn’t been so terrified. He approached her again and stooped to kiss her forehead. A repulsively tender kiss. He smelt her skin and sighed. ‘I haven’t felt this way since I met your mother. The instant I saw Jessica I knew we were meant to be together. And it was the same with you today.’
Gavin lifted Emily off the sofa and laid her on the floor. He flicked a couple of latches and upturned the sofa’s cushions, revealing a hollow space. He picked her up again and lowered her into the hollow. He retrieved a pillow from the bed and placed it under her head. ‘We don’t want you to be uncomfortable, do we? Now you just lie still and be quiet, like a good girl.’ He replaced the cushions, sealing her in darkness.
She listened to his footsteps moving away. The motorhome’s engine came alive. She squirmed against her bonds, but it was no good. The plastic cuffs were on too tight. She felt the motorhome move forwards a short distance. There came the muffled sound of the garage doors and gate being shut. Then the vehicle was moving again. But where was he taking her? Did he really mean to spirit her out of the country? And if he did, what was he going to do with her once they got to the Philippines? Would he force her to live as his wife? Force her to have his children? She suddenly felt like something was constricting her chest. Her head spun as though she was about to pass out. The blackness seemed to be getting deeper, sucking her in like a whirlpool. A familiar voice reached her faintly through it. At first she thought she’d imagined it. But then it came again. She latched on to it, used it to drag herself back from the brink of oblivion.
‘Where are you, Gavin?’ asked her dad. No, not my dad, my granddad, some distant, cruelly coherent part of her mind reminded her once again. She ignored it. It didn’t matter what he was. All that mattered was that he was there and he surely wouldn’t let Gavin hurt her. She banged her knees against the underside of the wooden base the sofa cushions rested on. Even as she did so, the same part of her mind told her it was futile. How could her granddad be there if he didn’t know where Gavin was? The answer was obvious. He wasn’t there. He was on the other end of a phone line and Gavin had him on loudspeaker. Moreover, the speaker was turned up high, like Gavin wanted her to hear what was being said.
‘It doesn’t matter where I am,’ replied Gavin. ‘There’s no need to worry about me. I’m fine. Emily’s fine. We’re both fine.’
‘What do you mean, Emily’s fine?’ There was a sudden tightness in Ronald Walsh’s voice.
‘I’ve got her with me. I’m going to be looking after her from now on.’
‘She… she’s with you?’ stammered Ronald. Emily had never heard him stammer before.
There was a sound like an impatient huff of breath. Then Gavin replied, ‘That’s what I just said, didn’t I?’
‘Can I speak to her?’
‘Not right now. She’s busy.’
‘Doing what?’
Another huff. ‘It doesn’t matter what she’s doing. What matters is that the time has finally come for me to be a father to her.’
‘A father?’
‘Christ, is there an echo on the line? Yes, a father. I thought you’d be pleased.’ There was an almost childishly petulant challenge in Gavin’s tone.
‘Oh I am pleased, Gavin.’ Ronald’s mollifying, hollow voice suggested just the opposite. ‘But are you sure this is what you want?’
‘Of course I’m sure. Why else would I be doing this?’
‘What exactly is it that you’re doing?’
‘We’re going away. A long, long way away. You probably won’t see either of us again.’
‘Now hang on, Gavin. Let’s think this through a minute. You can’t just take Emily away like this. She has a life here in Nottingham.’
‘Life!’ Gavin loaded the word with contempt. ‘Go to school, go to university, get a job, get married, have kids. You call that a life? I’ll give her a real life. I’ll show her things she could never have imagined. I’ll—’
Another voice came on the line and interrupted Gavin. ‘We’ve done everything you ever asked of us, Gavin,’ said Sharon Walsh, trembling on the edge of tears. ‘We’ve never asked anything in return except this one thing. Don’t take Emily away from us.’
Gavin sighed and in an overly patient voice, as though explaining something to a well-meaning idiot, he said, ‘Emily is my daughter. Mine, not yours. How can I take something away from you that never belonged to you in the first place?’
The tremors turned into sobs. Emily winced at the sound. Her grandmother was a liar and a hypocrite and she hated her for it. And yet she hated, too, to hear her in such pain. ‘Please, Gavin,’ wept Sharon, ‘I’m begging you not to do this.’
‘Put Dad back on.’
‘Please, Gavin, please, please—’
‘Put him on or I’ll hang up!’
There was a brief silence, punctuated by the half-stifled sound of Sharon sobbing. Then Ronald came back on the line, his voice tense but controlled. ‘Your mother only wants what’s best for both you and Emily.’
‘She’s never understood what’s best for me. Neither of you have. And as for Emily, if I don’t know what’s best for her no one does.’
‘But are you sure she won’t be a burden to you?’
‘Loneliness is the heaviest burden. Now that we’re together, neither of us will ever have to be lonely again.’
Ronald exhaled a long, exhausted breath that said, You win. ‘What do you want us to do?’
‘I don’t want you to do anything. Just carry on as normal.’
‘OK, Gavin. When will we hear from you again?’
‘I don’t know. Probably not for a long time.’
‘What if there’s an emergency and we need to contact you?’
‘This number will work for as long as it takes us to get out of the country. After that…’ Gavin tailed off meaningfully.
‘We…’ Emotion briefly threatened to get the better of Ronald. He cleared his throat and continued, ‘We love you very much, son. You and Emily both. Please make sure she knows that.’
‘Uh-huh, will do,’ Gavin said disinterestedly. ‘Got to go now, Dad. Byeee.’ He shouted back to Emily, ‘Did you hear that? The old fart says he loves you.’
Tears streamed down Emily’s cheeks in the darkness. She wanted to look her grandparents in the face and scream at them, How can you let him do this to me if you love me? Her ears pricked at the sound of approaching sirens. Was it the police looking for them? She kicked her feet against the side of the motorhome, hoping and, irrespective of her lack of faith, praying that someone heard. The sirens built to a piercing wail, then faded into the distance. She squeezed her eyes shut. She felt utterly forsaken and, despite what Gavin had said, crushingly alone.
‘I told you to lie quietly,’ said Gavin. ‘Do as Daddy says, my love. Don’t make me come back there.’
There was a slight thickening in his voice, a little rise of anticipation, almost as if he hoped she would disobey him. A shudder passed through her, then she lay like a dead body.
After a short time, Gavin spoke again, but not to Emily. There was no petulance in his voice now. It was measured and businesslike. ‘Have you heard what’s happened?’
A man’s voice came through the loudspeaker, and this one was unfamiliar. ‘Of course we’ve heard.’ The accent was pure public school, the tone effortlessly superior.
‘I need your help.’
‘Don’t you think we’ve helped you enough?’
&
nbsp; ‘I think you should consider what the consequences might be if I’m caught.’
There was a slight pause, then, ‘What do you want?’
‘I want out of this country. I’ve always fancied visiting the Philippines.’
‘Good choice. I think that can be arranged.’
‘I’m going to need two passports – one for myself and one for my daughter – and enough cash for us to live off comfortably for the foreseeable future.’
A note of surprise entered the man’s voice. ‘You seriously intend to take your daughter with you?’
‘I’m not leaving the country without her.’
‘And she’s willing to go?’
‘She will be by the time we leave. You know how persuasive I can be.’
Nothing you say or do will make me want to come with you, thought Emily. But there was an unshakable confidence in Gavin’s voice that drove a nail of doubt into her mind. Did he possess some special power from his god that could make her do as he wished? She scowled at herself for even contemplating the idea. The only power he had was that of violence and lies.
‘The arrangements will take a day or two,’ said the man. ‘Do you think you can stay off the radar until then?’
‘Shouldn’t be too difficult. Oh, and keep this in mind: if anything unpleasant should happen to me, if I should be run over or shot in the back of the head, then information will be sent to the police about where to find certain photos and videos.’
There was another silence, longer than the first, as if the man was chewing on the unpleasant taste of Gavin’s words. Then, his tone no longer quite so supercilious, he said, ‘I’ll be in touch.’
Putting on a mock posh accent, Gavin said to Emily, ‘He’ll be in touch.’ He laughed as if he’d made a joke. But it was no joke. ‘I told you, my love, believe in Cernunnos and he will make anything possible.’
Again, doubt pierced Emily’s mind. What if he was right? What if… What if… And suddenly the spinning sensation was back and she felt as if there was nothing beneath her and nothing above or around her. She was alone and falling.
19
Jim drove to Nottingham like a man possessed. No word came through about the whereabouts of Gavin. He wasn’t surprised. A man like him would have been ready for this contingency. He would have planned an escape route and, considering he’d risked leaving Anna behind with breath still in her body, almost certainly kept a switch vehicle somewhere nearby. No word came about Anna either. That was good. The longer it took the hospital to get in touch, the greater the chance she’d be alive when they did.
Ronald Walsh’s Volvo was parked in the driveway. Jim blocked it in with his own car. It hardly seemed likely the Walshes would attempt to run. But you never knew. He hammered on the front door. ‘Police! Open up now!’
Ronald came to the door. Jim scoured his face for any indication that he knew what had gone down. Ronald looked tired but composed. His dark eyes returned Jim’s gaze steadily. ‘What do you want?’
He was as inscrutable as Jim had expected. But what about his wife? Maybe her nerves weren’t so steely. ‘I want to speak to your wife.’
‘I told you before, my wife’s ill.’
‘I don’t give a shit. Get her here now or I’m coming in.’
‘You have no right.’
In reply, Jim thrust out an arm, swept Ronald to one side and stepped past him into the hallway.
‘That’s assault,’ Ronald thundered. ‘I’ll have you brought up on charges.’
Ignoring him, Jim strode into the living room. Sharon wasn’t there. His gaze lingered on a recent-looking school photo of Emily on the mantelpiece. The sky-blue eyes, the soft spray of freckles, the full lips. It was the same face that had driven Gavin to abduct Jessica Young. Had it now incited him to do the same to his own daughter? Jim knew it was a strong possibility. Almost a certainty. For a man like Gavin there were no boundaries, no taboos. There was only what he wanted and how he could get it. ‘Sharon Walsh,’ he called out. ‘This is DCI Jim Monahan. I need to talk to you about your son.’
Ronald started to reel out his standard response. ‘Our son is dea—’
He was silenced as Jim added revealingly, ‘And about your granddaughter.’
A stifled sob came from the back of the house. Jim shoved open a door. Sharon was sitting at the kitchen table, a tissue clutched to her mouth. The instant he saw her he knew Gavin had been in touch. It was written in the tears spilling from her eyes. She flinched as he stepped towards her and demanded, ‘Where are they?’
‘Leave my wife alone and get out of our house.’ Ronald grabbed Jim’s arm to wrench him around.
With a rapid, expert movement, Jim caught hold of Ronald’s hand, twisted his arm and bent his wrist forward, forcing his face down onto the table. Ronald yelped in pain. Sharon jumped to her feet, eyes darting around as though looking for a way out or maybe something to defend her husband with.
‘Sit down!’ ordered Jim. To Ronald, he added, ‘And you, stop struggling or I’ll put you in cuffs.’
‘Do as he says,’ groaned Ronald. Shoulders quaking with the effort to control her sobs, Sharon dropped back onto the chair.
‘I’m going to release you, Mr Walsh,’ said Jim. ‘I want you to go and sit next to your wife. Is that clear?’
‘Crystal.’
Jim let go of Ronald. Grimacing and rubbing his wrist, Ronald moved to sit down. ‘Are you alright, Ron?’ Sharon asked.
He gave a terse nod, glaring at Jim across the table. ‘I’m going to have your job for this.’
‘Yeah, well, you’ll have to get in line for that particular honour,’ Jim replied to the familiar threat. He plucked up the phone from the kitchen worktop and dialled 1471. The last call was from a local number the previous afternoon. He pressed 3 to return it. A woman picked up and said, ‘Vision Express, Victoria Shopping Centre. How can I help?’
Jim hung up, unsurprised the call had nothing to do with Gavin. He would have been amazed if Gavin had been foolish enough to contact his parents’ landline, let alone not withhold his number. No doubt there was a mobile phone secreted somewhere or perhaps nestling on the bottom of the nearby River Trent. He turned his probing gaze on Sharon. ‘Where’s Emily?’
Ronald answered for her. ‘At school.’
‘I didn’t ask you. I asked her. Where’s Emily?’
‘At school,’ Sharon said tremulously.
‘Are you sure of that?’
‘Yes. We dropped her off there this morning.’
‘Did you see her go into the school?’
‘No but… Has something happened to her?’
‘You tell me.’
‘I…’ Sharon looked to her husband for help.
‘Stop playing games with us,’ said Ronald.
‘I’m not the one playing games here, Mr Walsh. All I want is to know where your son and granddaughter are?’
‘Our son, or rather his grave, is in a cemetery in Birmingham. We don’t have a granddaughter.’
Jim leant forward and stabbed the table with his finger. ‘Enough of the bullshit. It’s cards on the table time. Your son is with your granddaughter.’ Ronald opened his mouth to speak, but before he could Jim continued, ‘Don’t bother denying it. I know everything. I know Gavin’s alive. I know he’s spent the past twenty-six years living under assumed identities, abusing, raping, abducting and murdering children whenever he’s had the chance.’
‘No!’ cried Sharon, shaking her head in fervent denial.
‘Yes,’ Jim fired back. ‘And I know Gavin conceived a daughter with one of his victims. A daughter you’ve raised as your own.’
‘Where’s your proof?’ asked Ronald. His voice was still steady, but the skin around his eyes was twitching.
‘Your wife was diagnosed with endometriosis in ’96, Mr Walsh. She’s infertile.’
‘That proves nothing.’
‘Maybe not, but it’s enough to get a warrant for DNA testing. What do you think wil
l happen when those tests show Emily is the daughter of your son and Jessica Young? You’ll both be arrested for aiding and abetting a crime.’
‘Who’s Jessica Young?’
‘You know full well who she is. Just as I know you don’t care about being arrested. What you care about is your son and granddaughter.’
Ronald’s eyes dropped away from Jim as if in confirmation of his words. Jim’s tone softened a notch. ‘And I understand why you feel you have to protect your son no matter what. But here’s the thing, by protecting Gavin you condemn Emily.’
Sharon shook her head again, clasping her hands over her ears. Jim moved close behind her and said loud enough that she couldn’t block it out, ‘You blame yourself, don’t you? I can see that. You wonder whether this would be happening if you hadn’t turned a blind eye to your husband working for a criminal.’
‘I tried my best to bring Gavin up right,’ Sharon said in a tearful whisper. ‘But nothing I did made any—’
She flinched into silence as Ronald snapped, ‘Shut up, Sharon.’
Firing him a warning glance, Jim continued speaking to Sharon. ‘Nothing you did made any difference. You could only watch helplessly as the little boy you loved grew into a monster. And when he committed his first rape, you told yourself he was innocent. But deep down you knew the truth. You knew he was guilty, didn’t you?’
A nod, barely perceptible, but there. Sharon winced as Ronald’s fingers closed tightly around her wrist. In turn, Jim placed a hand firmly on his shoulder. ‘Don’t make me restrain you again, Mr Walsh.’
Ronald drew his hand back. ‘My wife and I have nothing more to say to you,’ he stated, pointedly looking away from Jim. ‘If you have evidence to back up your accusations, then arrest us. Otherwise, leave us alone.’
Jim was half tempted to call Ronald’s bluff, slap the cuffs on the Walshes and read them their rights. But without DNA evidence of Emily’s true parentage, it would be an empty gesture. And there was no guarantee that sufficient quality DNA would be recovered from the house to prove parentage. ‘Is that true, Mrs Walsh? Do you want me to leave?’
