‘He looks like Roma Gypsy to me,’ Declan said.
‘Have you ever seen him?’ Nick asked.
‘No. Charlie has dealings with the Roma and Romanians. Come on, we’ll go and ask him,’ Declan said as he gestured to the woods behind them.
‘Declan?’ Gwen said in an anxious voice.
‘Shut yer feckin’ mouth, Gwen!’ Declan thundered.
Something about Gwen’s reaction troubled Nick. What was wrong with going with Declan?
‘Where are we going?’ Nick asked as his pulse started to quicken.
‘Charlie lives on his own. Likes the peace and quiet. Come on, we’ll go up there now. See if he’s seen this fella of yours,’ Declan said, moving towards the dry path that led up to the woods.
At that moment, Nick caught a momentary glimpse of something metallic tucked into the back of Declan’s waistband. It was mostly covered by his shirt, but Nick knew exactly what it was.
A handgun.
If he had to guess, it looked like an old Beretta.
Clearly, having possession of a handgun was an offence, but Nick was on his own in the middle of a travellers’ site that was well known for its disregard for the law. With no back-up, he wasn’t going to risk trying to make an arrest.
‘Come on. What are you waiting for, son?’ Declan beckoned Nick to follow.
With the red flags piling up, Nick wasn’t about to disappear into the woods with a tough-looking traveller with a hidden handgun. He might never return.
Nick held up the photo. His instinct told him that he was vulnerable and in danger. ‘I’ll leave this here with my card. If anyone has seen this man, let me know.’
‘Ah, come on. What are you scared of?’ Declan asked, as if he was offended by Nick’s refusal to follow him.
‘Have a good day,’ Nick said with a wave of his hand.
With his heart pounding and sweat running down the back of his neck, he tried to walk calmly back to the car. What he really wanted to do was run.
IT WAS AN HOUR AFTER the bomb had gone off and the area outside the Wrights’ house was chaos. Ruth was still numb from the blast and seeing Merringer’s body in the adjacent field. Drake had told her to go to hospital, but apart from some hearing loss and a bruised back, Ruth was physically okay. She needed to stay.
The whole area pulsed eerily with the blue lights of police vehicles, fire engines and ambulances. Yet, except for the crackle of voices on police radios, the scene was unnervingly quiet. Conversations were respectfully low.
Resting against a stone wall, Ruth looked at the burnt wreck of the car, lost in thought. Close by, a camouflaged Army Land Rover was parked. A bomb disposal unit had been called to check the car was safe and to ensure there weren’t any secondary devices. They had confirmed that there had been an explosive device under the driver’s seat of the car. From what Ruth had told them, it seemed there had been an electrical circuit linked to the ignition. In his efforts to take the key out of the ignition, Merringer must have turned it one click and engaged the car’s battery. That sent a signal to the explosive device under the seat that he was resting on. In the age of bombs being detonated by Bluetooth and mobile phone signals, it was pretty crude. The sort of car bomb the IRA had used in the seventies and eighties. It didn’t matter though. Luke Merringer didn’t stand a chance and would have died before he hit the ground.
Ruth could still hear the faint hiss of the water on the hot metal of the car. Two fire engines had put out the fire within a few minutes of arriving.
Drake, who had continually been on the phone since he got there, came over to her.
‘I know you don’t want to go to hospital, but you should go home at least, Ruth,’ he said quietly.
‘I’d prefer to stay for a bit, boss.’
Drake nodded and there was a stillness. They had lost a friend and colleague. They all knew when they left the house in the morning that it might be their last. However, the death of a police officer in the line of duty was still a rare thing.
‘I’ll go and talk to Mel on my way home,’ Drake said. Ruth couldn’t imagine how Merringer’s wife was feeling at that moment.
‘And the poor girls ...’ Ruth said as she thought of Merringer’s daughters.
‘My daughters are around the same age,’ Drake said. ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’ Drake and his girls would have been struggling to deal with the anxiety around Paula’s cancer. Losing a loved colleague was merely adding to his already emotionally strained plate.
‘I’ll give Mel a call later, boss,’ Ruth said.
‘I’ve spoken to the media desk at St Asaph. They’re going to put out a story that it was an electrical fault and a car fire,’ Drake said. She wondered if the press would make anything of it being Kathy Wright’s car and try to see if there was a story.
Turning slightly to her left, Ruth could see Kathy Wright watching from her garden path.
‘Have you spoken to Kathy Wright yet, boss?’ Ruth asked.
‘No, not yet. I really think someone should drive you home, Ruth,’ Drake said.
Ruth ignored him. ‘I’ll go and have a word with her and see if the shock jogs her memory on anything.’
Ruth turned and started to walk down the road to the gate that led into the Wrights’ garden.
Looking confused and shocked, Kathy stood with her arms crossed. Did she have any remorse for what had happened?
‘That was meant for you,’ Ruth said sharply.
‘I know,’ Kathy mumbled.
‘I’ve just lost a friend and colleague. We’ve got to go and tell his wife. And you’re responsible for that.’ Ruth virtually spat out the words.
‘I didn’t know there was a bomb in my car, did I?’
‘Don’t be fucking facetious, Kathy! Your daughter has been attacked and taken. One of my officers has just been murdered. So, whatever you’re mixed up in, it’s time you came clean and told us the truth!’
‘I’ve told you already. You’re way off on this. And while someone’s got my daughter somewhere, you’re looking in the wrong place. You need to get your head out of your arse, find Rosie and stop waging some personal vendetta against me,’ Kathy yelled at her.
Ruth could feel the anger and bile rise inside her. Merringer’s body was on its way to the mortuary at Llancastell University Hospital. Rosie had been attacked and abducted. And Kathy was still fucking them about. If Constable Bennett hadn’t been standing nearby, Ruth thought, she could have easily slapped Kathy across her face.
Taking a breath, Ruth walked away before she said or did something that she would regret.
CHAPTER 16
Having stared death in the face, Nick knew that he had to get himself to an AA meeting that evening. He hadn’t been totally honest with Amanda about the events of the afternoon up at Woodburn Farm. He had gone as far as saying there had been ‘a few hairy moments’. Amanda was pregnant; there was no reason to cause her any undue stress.
Nick’s father, Rhys, was helping set up the room when he and Amanda arrived. Nick usually had a chat and catch up with his dad during the meeting’s fifteen-minute break. It really was a miracle that they spoke at all. Nick had been left to be brought up by his Auntie Pat and Uncle Mike after his mother had died. His father, a sergeant in the Royal Welch Fusiliers, had been posted abroad for much of Nick’s childhood. When he was around, Rhys was either emotionally cold, or drunk, angry and unpredictable. The last eighteen months had seen a dramatic reversal in their relationship. And Nick knew that he had AA and sobriety to thank for that.
‘And how are you, young Nicholas?’ Bill asked with a beaming smile. Catching up with his sponsor Dundee Bill, Nick felt the clarity and calm that came with being at a meeting with his tribe. Even when Bill was dishing out one of his famous bollockings, it was done with an element of humour. There were many inside AA who didn’t appreciate Bill’s brand of tough love. However, Nick knew that’s exactly what he needed. No bullshit, no dishonesty: tell it how it is. Bill had
had his reservations about Amanda and Nick’s relationship – two recovering addicts embarking on a relationship together wasn’t going to be easy. He told Nick to tread very carefully, but if they loved one another, who was he to stand in the way?
The meeting started with various thank-yous and a reading. Sitting together in their usual seats, Amanda and Nick held hands discreetly by the side of the chair and listened as Cockney Rob shared his life story. Rob was usually good value and his ‘war stories’ were generally hilarious. Nick knew it was good for alcoholics to laugh at themselves and how far they would go to get a drink.
Fifteen years ago, when Rob had been kicked out of the family home for the twentieth time, he found himself living above a pub in Llangollen. Having gone on a week-long bender, Rob found that he had run out of booze and, more worryingly, he had lost the use of his legs. It was called alcoholic neuropathy. Ever the resourceful alcoholic, Rob looked around and spotted a bucket and some rope from the bedsit’s recent renovation. He rang the pub downstairs and explained that he couldn’t get down. If he lowered a bucket out of the window to street level, could someone come out and put two bottles of scotch and a bottle of vodka into the bucket? He could then raise the bucket up to the first floor. Thinking this was hysterically funny, the bar staff took down his credit card details before duly obliging by placing the bottles into the bucket. This carried on for the next few weeks until Rob’s credit card was finally maxed out.
At the break, Nick watched from a distance as Amanda spoke to her own sponsor for a moment. They laughed as she placed her hand gently on her bump. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail and the whites of her chestnut eyes looked bigger and brighter than ever. A few seconds later, the women of the group had gathered protectively around her, cooing and smiling. However cheesy it sounded, she really was all he had ever wanted. It wasn’t long ago that he mocked the idea of a soulmate. He thought that the person you ended up with for life was totally random. Now he believed the total opposite. He just hoped he could step up and be the responsible adult he had always wanted to be.
A thought occurred to him as he wandered outside for some fresh air. A beautiful, exciting thought.
Glancing over to the usual group of men smoking, he made eye contact with his dad and nodded. As he rolled the cigarette paper and licked the gluey edge, Rhys wandered over.
‘Having a good week, lad?’ Rhys asked as he popped the rolled cigarette in between his lips and searched his pockets for a lighter.
‘I was until this afternoon,’ Nick said, but he didn’t want to go into details. ‘But you know, I’m upright, sober and I’m at meeting.’
‘And you’re having a baby,’ Rhys said as he lit his cigarette. Nick had told his father, along with everyone else, after twelve weeks. Rhys couldn’t hide his joy at the thought of being a grandad.
‘And I’m having a baby,’ Nick said with a growing smile.
Nick knew what he needed to do. Seeing his life flash before him at the traveller camp that day had brought into focus what was important to him.
‘Between you and me, I’m going to ask her to marry me,’ Nick said quietly.
‘Congratulations. I’m made up for you, son,’ Rhys grinned and shook Nick’s hand. ‘When did you decide that?’
‘About thirty seconds ago.’ Nick admitted.
RUTH HAD SPENT TWENTY minutes trying to wash the smell of smoke and burning out of her hair. As she got out of the shower, she found herself shaking uncontrollably. When she tried to get her breath, waves of a full-blown panic attack hit her like a train. Her heart pounded in her chest. She began to count breaths. In for five, hold for five and out for seven. She continued doing this for over a minute. As her pulse slowed, she slumped onto the wet shower mat and wept.
An hour later, Ruth was in the living room, staring into space. She had tried to numb the shock of the day with two large glasses of wine and had fallen asleep for a while. It didn’t touch the sides. Angie Stone played on the stereo, but somehow listening to music seemed ridiculous. Walking over to the stereo, she turned it off and looked out of the open patio doors to the garden and the fields and hills beyond that. The sun had painted the thin, white clouds on the horizon a uniform blancmange pink. How was it possible that Merringer would not see the sun set that evening? It had only been that morning that he had told her about his daughter Gabby looking at universities for the following year. He was never going to see Gabby graduate, get married, have children – it had all been taken away from him.
Ruth’s train of thought was broken by the sound of someone coming down the stairs. It was Sian and she was carrying a suitcase. Where the hell is she going? Ruth thought.
‘What are you doing?’ Ruth asked.
Sian looked a little teary as she came into the living room, sat down and looked over at Ruth.
‘What’s going on?’ Ruth asked, starting to get worried.
‘I nearly lost you today,’ Sian said, getting choked up.
Ruth nodded. ‘I know.’
‘And it made me realise that you’re the most important thing to me on the planet,’ Sian said.
‘Of course. I feel the same,’ Ruth said uncertainly. Where is this going?
‘But that’s the problem. Because you don’t,’ Sian said, wiping a tear from her face.
Ruth wasn’t sure what Sian was talking about. ‘Is this about me meeting Ella’s dad?’
‘Not really. It doesn’t help.’ Sian sniffed and wiped away another tear. ‘I went to get a screwdriver from the garage and I found your desk and all your stuff. The photos on the wall. The files and the papers.’
The revelation hung in the air as Ruth took it in and felt the bottom fall out of her stomach. She didn’t know what to say.
‘I wanted to tell you but ...’ Ruth kicked herself for being so stupid.
‘It’s all right. I understand. I can’t imagine what it must be like to have lost Sarah and not know what happened to her. But it means I can never compete with her.’
Ruth looked at Sian. She loved her so much – why had she put all that at risk?
You’re such a bloody idiot!
‘It’s not true ...’
Sian pursed her lips as she blinked a tear away. ‘But it is. And I feel so sorry for you. But that’s not enough for a relationship, is it?’
Feeling like she couldn’t breathe, Ruth moved forward and took Sian’s hand. ‘I love you ... I really do—’
Please God, I don’t want her to leave me!
Sian moved her hand away from Ruth’s and took half a step back. ‘I know you love me. But I ... I think I need to be with someone who ... wants just me. Not someone who ... who always has one eye on the past,’ Sian explained as she sniffed and wiped away more tears.
‘It’s not like that,’ Ruth protested, even though she knew what Sian had said was true. It was so painful to think about what Sian was saying to her. Unbearable.
‘You know in your heart of hearts that it is. And always will be. I just feel a bit stupid because I thought me, you and Ella were this tight family unit. The perfect post-millennial family,’ Sian said with a teary smile.
Now feeling desperate, Ruth used her palm to wipe her cheek. ‘We are—’
‘But we’re not. And that’s fine ... So, I need some time away.’
I don’t want you to go!
Now overwhelmed, Ruth got up as the tears came in floods. ‘I do love you – please, I don’t want you to go!’
Ruth went to give Sian a hug, but she moved away and took the handle of her suitcase.
‘I love you too. I’ll give you a call later,’ Sian said in a choked voice, blinking through her tears as she turned and left the house.
WAKING WITH A SLIGHT start, Ruth thought she must have had some kind of nightmare, although she couldn’t remember what it had been about as her heart was beating hard against her chest. Her back was still sore from where she had landed on it when the bomb exploded. Reaching over to the bedside table, she took
a glass of water, sipped it and swilled it around her dry mouth. She took a deep breath. It was only just getting light, so she calculated it must only be five o’clock. Too early for a ciggie and a coffee on the patio, even by her standards.
She stretched out her right leg and flexed her calf muscle. Her whole body felt taut and uncomfortable. The bed was strangely still. As she replaced the glass, her eyes were drawn to a framed photograph of Sarah. It was the picture of her dressed as a bridesmaid. Her elegant neck decorated with a simple antique silver necklace that Ruth had bought her from Portobello Market the day before. However, Ruth didn’t remember digging out that photo of Sarah from the garage and putting it back beside the bed where it had sat when she first moved in. In fact, she was sure that she hadn’t. She’d only had a couple of drinks – okay, a bottle of white wine – but not enough to not remember stuff.
The duvet moved slightly and then someone pulled it. It startled her.
Ruth froze. The bed was empty, wasn’t it?
Sian had left the night before and Ella was sleeping upstairs. Wasn’t she? Unless she had crept down during the night? Shifting onto her back, Ruth then heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their throat very quietly. A man clearing their throat very quietly.
Jesus! What the bloody hell is going on?
She jumped up in bed and saw that there was a man lying next to her, staring up at the ceiling. She recognised the dead blue eyes and thin, blonde hair. And the smile. That faintly amused smile.
It was Jurgen Kessler.
Kessler looked over at her and said, ‘I need to tell you where she is.’ His voice was soft with a clipped Germanic accent.
Ruth jumped up in bed and screamed at him. ‘I don’t want you to tell me!’
Leaping across at him, Ruth put her hands around his throat and began to throttle him, squeezing his neck hard.
‘If you kill me, you’ll never know,’ Kessler said, laughing as though she was tickling him. ‘You’ll never find her.’
The Devil's Cliff Killings Page 16
