He slipped in through the back way as usual and made his way up to Sarah’s room.
She was sitting in a chair by the window and playing a rather desultory game of cards with Stacy. He could tell that neither of them were really feeling distracted by the play. Steel sat down beside them.
‘I’m going to get Joey and Tel over later,’ he told her, and saw her eyes light at the prospect. ‘Maggie’s promised to drive them across after school.’
‘Thank you,’ Sarah said. ‘I feel like I’m trapped in here, you know. I want to go home, but it’s like I don’t know where that is any more.’
She bit her lip and blinked back tears.
‘Sarah, did you know a woman called Josette Harris?’
Sarah frowned and then nodded. ‘Yeah, I remember her. She had two kids. I was friends with Tina at school. The other one was little. I can’t remember his name.’
‘She phoned the inquiry,’ Steel said. ‘She’d seen what happened on the news and wanted to call.’
Sarah shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago,’ she said. ‘She was just a neighbour, really. It’s nice of her though.’
‘And did you ever meet your dad’s sister, Madeleine?’
Sarah laid a card down on the table and shook her head. ‘She got married. Dad said she’d betrayed the family. I think Mum met her, but she didn’t live near us and we never saw her. Why?’
‘Her name came up. Naomi, the police officer who helped you and your mum leave, she’s helping us out with the inquiry. She mentioned her to us.’
‘Mum liked her,’ Sarah said. ‘She was nice, but I worried about it all, you know. Mum was scared and Naomi kept telling her that it would be all right. That she’d make sure we were protected.’
‘I know she did her best to make that happen,’ Steel said.
‘But it didn’t work. Not in the end, did it? We just wanted to be safe. But nowhere was safe, not even here.’
‘We will find out who did this,’ Steel told her.
‘So what? It won’t make it better, will it?’ She looked up from the card game and fixed him with such a desperate stare that Steel’s heart sank. ‘It won’t make it right, will it?’
‘No. I can’t make it right,’ he agreed. ‘I can’t do that.’
He sat and watched Sarah and Stacy play for a little longer, not sure how he should frame the next question. In the end he just asked. ‘Sarah, does the name Anthony Bertram mean anything to you?’
A shake of the head followed by a frown. ‘I don’t think so. Why?’
‘Just another name that came up. Did Vic have a middle name?’
‘I don’t think so. Why?’
‘Because we’re still trying to find out if he had any family. Victor Griffin is an unusual name, but if he had a middle name as well that might help us narrow things down even further.’
‘He lived near Taunton,’ Sarah said. ‘I remembered that last night. When he and Mum met when she was at the festival, he lived near Taunton. He took us to the beach one day. It was a long beach and it was really windy and some people were riding on land yachts. I really, really wanted to have a go but they said I was too little. He knew one of them. I think he said it was a cousin or something. But I don’t really know. Does that help?’
‘It might,’ he told her. ‘Any little detail might. You don’t remember the name of the place?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘No. Just a lot of wind and sand and that. Mum laughed a lot that day. Vic could be really funny.’
She laid the cards down on the table, all pretence at playing ended. ‘I think I’d like to sleep for a bit now,’ she said.
Stacy helped her back to bed. Steel could see that she was still in a lot of discomfort. The rib would be very painful for a while, the doctors had told him. A section had been shattered and they’d removed all the fragments they could find, tidied it up. Steel, who’d once cracked two ribs and remembered how bloody painful that had been and how long it had taken before it ceased to hurt him when he laughed or coughed or moved suddenly, could only sympathize. ‘I’ll see you later,’ he said. ‘When Maggie gets here with Joey and Tel.’
She managed a small smile but Steel was struck by the sudden descent back into exhaustion and despair. Should he not have come? He had to ask questions. How could he avoid hurting her further?
There was no way he could.
Stacy came out into the corridor and he walked with her to the coffee machine. She bought two hot chocolates. ‘You got any change?’ she asked. ‘I’m running out.’
He felt in his pocket and gave her what he had left. ‘Keep a tally of anything you spend,’ he said. ‘I’ll make sure you get reimbursed.’
She shrugged. ‘Is it bad that I just want to go home now?’
‘No. It’s normal. Understandable. I’ll see to it you get relieved by lunchtime. You need to take some time out.’
‘No, it’s all right.’
‘Stacy, it’s not all right. You need a break.’ He sighed. ‘OK, look, we’ll compromise. You leave when Maggie and I bring the boys in tonight. I’ll get someone to cover for you this evening and you can come back bright and early tomorrow.’
She nodded reluctantly, but he could see she was relieved.
He watched her as she carried the two cups of chocolate back to Sarah’s room and then turned and walked back along the corridor, down the back stairs and into the car park. A man stood beside his car, waiting for him. At first Steel assumed he must be a journalist and his heart sank. He’d hoped to keep his visits here quiet. The next moment his heart was beating hard as, in sudden panic, he realized that the man was holding a gun.
TWENTY-SIX
Trinity Matthews had lived in the same street all her life. Her family had moved in when her mother was a little girl, and when Trinity had married she and her new husband had come to live with her then widowed grandmother.
She’d seen people come and go, seen the Baldwins take over from the Friths in her little neighbourhood, and she had no doubt she would see the Baldwins give way to someone else before she finally went to her rest. Trinity Matthews had lived too long and too well to be easily intimidated. Her mother was a God-fearing woman, as her mother had been before that, and Trinity was not of a mind to let the side down. Over time, she had become ‘auntie’ to half the street – much as previous generations of the Matthews women had done – and for the most part the dramas of life had passed her by, deferring to that status.
But she was, it had to be said, made a little uneasy by the man now sitting in her tiny living room.
‘It must be a shock, Aunt Trinny,’ Roddy Baldwin said. ‘Hearing about our Thea like that. Seeing on the news about them dying.’
‘Being killed, you mean. At least the little girl is going to be all right.’
‘She’s not so little any more, she must be a teenager by now. Thirteen, fourteen?’
She’d be fourteen, Trinny thought, but she held her peace. ‘And what brings such an important man as yourself to my door today?’
‘Important, am I? Some days, Trinny, I’m not so sure about that. My father, now, people listened up when he spoke. They listened up and they listened hard and they did what he told them.’
‘And people don’t take notice of you? Now you must find that hard.’
‘Indeed I do. Trinny, why didn’t you tell me you’d been in touch with our Thea?’
‘Because I haven’t been. She sent me a card for my birthday last year. That was all. I was very surprised she even remembered me.’
‘But you were pleased.’
‘Of course I was pleased. I was pleased when she and that little girl ran away. Pleased when that brother of yours was put inside, even if it wasn’t for what he did to them. He deserved to be put inside for that.’
Roddy Baldwin nodded wisely. ‘He wasn’t a good husband to her,’ he agreed. ‘Violence has its place, I always say, but that should not be in the home.’
‘I don’t believe it has a place anyw
here,’ Trinny told him, and he nodded again. ‘I can understand how a woman like you might think that,’ he said.
She hoped he couldn’t sense how much she was shaking inside.
‘Do you still have the card?’
Trinny got up and removed the card from the sideboard drawer. Reluctantly, she handed it to him. Roddy studied it for a time. ‘Roses,’ he said. ‘Very pretty. Did you keep the envelope?’
‘And why would I do that?’
‘And this is the only thing she ever sent you?’
‘The only thing, yes. Look, I made no secret of this. I was pleased. I told my friends, I told the ladies at the church. It wasn’t a secret thing.’
Roddy handed the card back. ‘Trinny,’ he said. ‘My father always said you were a good woman. A respectable woman.’
‘One of the few women who’d said no to him,’ Trinny told him boldly.
Roddy laughed. ‘Yes, he told me that too. Trinny, I want you to get in touch with Sarah for me. Tell her that we are still her family and we’re sorry for what happened to her and her mother.’
‘And why don’t you do that for yourself?’
Roddy laughed. ‘Because the police don’t view this family as a good influence, shall we say. I want you to convince her that – well, that we care.’
‘And do you? Did you care when that brother of yours was beating seven shades out of her and Thea? I didn’t see any sign of you caring then.’
‘If I’d been here, I’d have done something. I promise you that. If our dad had known—’
‘He knew. It was happening right under his nose.’
‘He was a sick man. Sicker than anyone round here realized. We didn’t want to make it public knowledge in case … you know, other people took advantage.’
Trinny narrowed her eyes and studied the man closely, like she’d have studied some strange insect that had landed on her prize roses. ‘And what do you really want from her?’ she asked, horrified at her own boldness but refusing to be intimidated. Roddy’s father hadn’t got the better of her, and she was damn sure the son wasn’t about to.
Roddy laughed. ‘Trinity, you are priceless,’ he said. He hauled himself from the depths of Trinity’s armchair. He was a tall man, looming over her as he came close. ‘Just call the hospital,’ he said. ‘Get them to pass a message on. Ask that she calls you back. Tell her that her family is waiting for her. Waiting to make amends.’
Trinny watched as he let himself out and then sank down into the chair he had just vacated. Despite her bravado, her legs shook and her heart beat at twice its normal rhythm. But Trinity Matthews was not so intimidated that she had stopped thinking. ‘And what do you really want?’ she muttered thoughtfully. ‘What little game are you still playing after all this time?’
TWENTY-SEVEN
‘You’re going to take me inside and up to Sarah Baldwin’s room.’
‘No. No I’m not. Are you the one who killed her family?’
The man laughed and gestured Steel to start moving.
He stood his ground. ‘We’re not going anywhere.’
‘I could shoot you and just find her myself.’
‘You could, but if you had any idea of where she was then you’d not have waited for me.’
‘I know where she is. I also know there are two security doors and that each one needs a key code. Now you can either give me the codes or you can escort me inside. Up to you.’
‘And I’m not doing either.’
‘Fine, so I kill you and wait for a member of staff to come out. A nice little nurse, maybe. You think a nice little nurse would do as she’s told?’
‘So why not take that as your first option?’
Steel scrutinized the gunman carefully. He might sound cocky and self assured but Steel could detect a tiny tremor. An uncertainty that told him this was not the man’s usual game. He was young, Steel thought. Early twenties, maybe, with sandy hair and a scattering of freckles and post-teenage spots.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t think you shot Sarah’s family. I think you’re an also-ran that just got landed with the task of finishing the job. Am I right? Your friend the triple murderer flunked it. So, is he dead? Did he run? What happened to him? And where the hell did they find you? Scrape around the bottom of the barrel, did they?’
This is mad, Steel told himself. You don’t provoke a man holding a gun. Not if you then want to walk away. But his major thought was to keep this man away from Sarah. His one other thought was to avoid getting shot – and he wasn’t at all sure they were mutually applicable.
Across the car park a car door slammed and Steel could see a couple getting out and heading towards the hospital entrance. They were perhaps twenty yards away and for a second he considered calling out to them, trying to raise the alarm, but he abandoned the idea as soon as it occurred. What good would it do to involve others? He was aware that the gunman had seen them too. Abruptly, the man shifted his attention to the woman. The gun aimed in her direction now.
‘Do we go inside, Inspector, or do I have to prove my intentions to you?’
‘No.’ Steel told him.
‘So take me in, then.’
The firearm was shifted, pointing back at his chest. Steel turned, thinking fast. ‘There are armed officers on Sarah’s floor,’ he said. ‘You don’t stand a chance of getting out of here, you know that?’
‘Stop talking and move.’
Steel did as he was told, wishing he’d just been able to tell the truth. Yes, there were officers on Sarah’s floor and one of them was armed, but they were right down at the far end of the corridor, at the back of the reception area watching for incursions via the main entrance. Stacy was the only one in Sarah’s side room. But there were CCTV cameras inside, at the back entrance and on the stairs and at the junctions to the various corridors. There was the chance of someone picking up on what was going on.
If that didn’t happen, then Steel was effectively on his own.
They made their way through the rear doors and into the utility area on the ground floor. There was no one around and the man behind him urged him on with a prod of the weapon into his back. Steel wondered what his chances would be if he turned on the man and tried to grab the gun. He thought about his conversation with Naomi about Terry Baldwin’s arrest. He needed the equivalent of her wheelie bin. And he needed backup.
Slowly they started up the stairs. Two flights, two sets of security doors, then a long corridor and another key pad, Steel thought. But that was far too close to Sarah. He had no intention of letting this man get that far.
Each time they passed a camera, Steel looked up into the lens, tried to position his body so that anyone on the security team might understand that something was wrong, or even glimpse the gun at his back.
They passed through the first security door and mounted the next flight of steps. Steel knew that this was perhaps his one and only chance.
He opened the second security door and passed through. The man was close behind him. Steel swung around, slamming the door back against the threat. The gun fired, exploding deafeningly in the confined space. Steel staggered, aware he had been hit, pain blossoming in his arm. He thought about Sarah. She’d been shot and yet she’d managed to run on. Damn it, he wasn’t about to be bested by a fourteen-year-old girl. The shooter was off balance now, caught between the door and the head of the stairs, and Steel seized the moment. He hurled himself forward, shoving at the gun with every ounce of strength and weight he had. His assailant fell; Steel somehow managed to grasp the handrail with his good hand, though his weight and momentum wrenched painfully at his shoulder and jerked pain through his entire body.
He collapsed on to the top step and watched as the gunman tumbled down the remaining stairs and lay still at the bottom.
Some portion of Steel’s mind told him that the man was dead. That his neck, twisted so that the head lay at an impossible angle, looking back at Steel, was broken, but he didn’t have the energy or the inclinatio
n to go and check. Instead, he groped in his pocket for his mobile phone and waited on the stairs for help to arrive.
TWENTY-EIGHT
By the time Sophie Willis arrived the hospital was buzzing with rumour; Sophie could feel it seeping in through the car windows as she made her way down the drive. She drove past the lines of media gathered out front, trying not to look their way, and parked in the visitors’ car park on the far side of the building. Getting out of the car she could see her colleagues in the other car park, and the crime scene tape separating Steel’s vehicle and several spaces around it from the rest.
She crossed to speak to them, showing her ID to a constable she didn’t know. A sergeant she did came to the taped barrier to meet her.
‘Any CCTV?’
‘Plenty. No one was actually monitoring that closely at the time, though. He walked your boss across this area and into the rear entrance with a gun at his back.’
‘I imagine he’s miffed,’ Sophie commented.
‘I imagine he is. You headed on in there?’
Sophie nodded.
‘Well, there’s nothing to tell him yet, but we’ve got our lot working with their security looking at the footage, so hopefully—’
‘Was he alone?’
‘So far as we can tell. Which strikes everyone as odd, though I suppose two people marching a police officer into a hospital at gunpoint might have attracted more notice. Maybe that’s the reasoning?’
Sophie shrugged. ‘Seems the media hordes are increasing in number,’ she said, jerking her head towards the front entrance.
‘It can only get worse,’ her colleague said glumly. Sophie hid a smile. She made her way into the hospital via the side entrance, checking in with the officer on guard outside, and then through the Outpatients Department. There were, it seemed, police everywhere now. She had her ID checked three times before arriving at the ground floor office where Steel was getting patched up. His shirt and jacket had been cut away from his arm and replaced by dressings and tape. He looked decidedly miffed, Sophie thought, and a little sick.
Paying the Ferryman Page 14
