Squinting through his singed, sooty eyelashes, he could see blue sky, clouds and Sian’s concerned face.
And then everything went black.
CHAPTER 23
Ruth had released Martin Hancock at three o’clock. She didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t going to tell them anything more, and there was nothing she could charge him with.
Briefing Drake with developments, Ruth admitted that although there was something strange about Martin Hancock, she didn’t think that he had attacked or abducted Rosie. But what was frustrating was that they couldn’t eliminate him from the investigation either. She also wanted to know why Jason Wright had kept information from them.
The surveillance team at HMP Rhoswen had reported back that Blake hadn’t used his phone since they planted bugs in his cell. Either he was being very cautious or someone had tipped him off.
Sipping at some lukewarm bottled water, Ruth looked out of her office window. A woman with a toddler in a pushchair weaved her way along the pavement before stopping to hand her daughter a sweet. Ruth could barely remember pushing Ella around the streets of South London. That was nearly twenty years ago, and it felt like another life. So much had happened since then. Calculating that she might have another thirty-plus years on the planet, Ruth wondered how she would make it. Life was exhausting. And the idyllic life of rural policing in Snowdonia and seeing out her pension hadn’t panned out quite as she had envisaged.
Ruth clicked the BBC News app on her phone, as she had done regularly since the phone call from Steven Flaherty. She was desperate to see if Edinburgh Police had made an arrest. They hadn’t.
She threw the bottle into the bin with frustrated plonk. Was there time to head down six floors for a ciggie? If she wanted to live another thirty-odd years, maybe she really should cut down ...
The reports of the house fire in Bangor were just coming in when French approached her office. Knowing that Sian was over in Bangor with Nick, Ruth started to worry if they were safe.
‘Boss, I’ve got some stuff back on Gareth Wright’s car,’ French said.
‘Anything interesting?’ Ruth asked, already assuming it would be another dead end. That’s the way the investigation was going.
‘Yes, boss. I need to show you something over here,’ French said, gesturing to his desk and computer.
Following him over, she could see tattoos across his back through his sweat-stained shirt. A swooping dragon across his shoulder blades. Ruth thought it was ironic that it was cooler and more rebellious not to have tattoos in 2019.
‘Gareth Wright has a black box in his car to keep his insurance,’ French explained.
‘And that black box has a GPS tracker of every journey Gareth Wright makes,’ Ruth said, remembering her first case at Llancastell CID where they had used a black box to track a suspect.
‘Exactly. I’ve downloaded all the GPS data here,’ French said, pointing to the screen. ‘We have location, date and time travelled.’
‘Where was he last Monday evening?’ Ruth asked. What had French found?
‘Gareth Wright lied about where he was last Monday,’ French said as he typed again and brought up a map of North Wales. He pointed at a place on the north coast and said, ‘He was at this place – Gogarth – which is eight miles from Capelulo, just north of Llandudno.’
‘What do you know about Gogarth?’ Ruth asked. She was still an outsider when it came to local knowledge of North Wales.
‘Cliffs.’ French gave her a meaningful look. ‘It’s known for having massive cliffs over the sea.’
SITTING ON THE STONE steps of a nearby house, Nick was still coughing up black phlegm from his lungs. His eyes felt red and raw as he dabbed them with a wet surgical bandage that the paramedics had given him. His breathing was laboured but after five minutes of oxygen, he had taken the mask off as it was making him dizzy. His temples throbbed as his brain reacted to all the carbon monoxide he had inhaled.
It had taken two fire engines around half an hour to control the blaze. The black shell of the house now sizzled and smouldered.
Sian came over and squinted down at him. Her face was streaked with black.
‘Have they managed to get in there?’ Nick asked in a croaky voice.
‘Yeah. The only body they found in there was Vasilescu’s,’ Sian said.
‘Thank God for that.’ Nick unscrewed the cap off another bottle of water and took a sip. He couldn’t seem to get rid of the smell and taste of burning human hair and flesh.
‘You saved those two girl’s lives, you know that?’ Sian said.
‘Yeah, but no sign of Rosie Wright though?’ Nick was frustrated that after all that, they seemed no nearer to finding her.
Sian shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. The two girls that you got out of there are Polish nationals. They don’t speak much English but they said they had been locked in that house for a few days.’
‘What about Hayley? What’s she have to say for herself?’ Nick asked as he coughed up more black sludge from his lungs.
‘Nothing at the moment. She won’t talk to me,’ Sian said.
Pushing down on the warm stone steps, Nick managed to get himself to his feet. His head was still whirling a little, but he got his balance.
‘Where the bloody hell are you going? Sit down,’ Sian said, putting her arm out for him to take and steady himself.
Nick smiled and pointed over at Hayley, who was sitting on the adjacent steps in handcuffs. ‘I was going to say that I’m going to grill the suspect, but it might be a bit too soon for jokes.’
Sian rolled her eyes. ‘Back to your old self, Sarge.’
Nick squinted up at the sun for a moment, reached for his sunglasses in his top pocket before realising that they were now somewhere inside, melted beyond recognition. Taking a couple of steps, he got his balance and stumbled over to where Hayley was sitting.
‘Hello, Hayley,’ he said.
‘Fuck off!’
‘Charming. Do you want to tell me what you were doing inside that house?’ Nick asked.
‘Fuck off. I’ve got nothing to say to you.’
‘Who are the two girls that were locked in the bedroom?’
Picking at her chipped red nails, Hayley ignored him and looked down at the step.
‘Were you and Christian taking those girls down to Dublin, Hayley?’
Continuing to chew a broken nail, Hayley gave out a sigh to show that she was bored with Nick’s questions.
‘Where’s Rosie Wright?’
Hayley smiled and looked up at him. ‘You’re not going to find her, you do know that?’
‘Where is she, Hayley?’
Hayley shrugged and shook her head. She still had a slight smirk on her face, which Nick would have gladly slapped off if there weren’t a dozen police officers, firemen and paramedics within fifty yards.
‘You think any of this is funny?’ Nick was getting angry, but he didn’t want Hayley to see that she was irritating him. His instinct was that Blake was involved, but Hayley might be telling the truth. ‘It wasn’t that funny when I watched your boyfriend go up like a tandoori chicken.’
I hope that hurt, you bitch!
Nick saw Sian wince. He didn’t care. Hayley was holding out on them and he needed to get her attention one way or another.
‘Rosie is a long, long way from here. And you’ll never fucking find her, pig. And I’m more than happy to serve time rather than tell you anything. So you can go and fuck yourself.’
Overwhelmed by fury and exhaustion, Nick glanced over at the corner shop across the road. Off-licence was printed along the top of the window. That’s what he needed. A couple of cold beers.
I’ve just saved two people’s lives and watched a man burn to death! I can have a couple of cold beers, for fuck’s sake. It doesn’t mean I’m going to relapse. I’m not an idiot.
Taking an unsteady step into the road, his whole being lit up at the thought of having a drink. Just a couple. He took another step as
he squinted up at the sun.
Suddenly, a car zoomed past about six inches away and sounded its horn.
‘Shit!’ Nick said as he jumped backwards. He hadn’t even seen the car.
Someone put their hand on his shoulder – it was Sian.
‘Where are you off to, Tonto?’
‘Nowhere ... I just ...’ Nick was feeling disorientated.
‘Sarge, why don’t you come and sit down for a bit?’
Sian and Nick shared a look.
Nick nodded, walked gingerly back onto the pavement and sat down on a step.
CHAPTER 24
Five days, twenty-two hours
Ruth and French had driven along Marine Drive as they approached the cliffs at Gogarth. The sea swept out like a curved mirror to the west, with the rugged east coast of Anglesey to the left and close to the Great Orme.
At the end of the last ice age, retreating glaciers had left behind many strangely shaped rocks around the headland. It was also said to be the home of the Welsh Atlantis. The prince of Tyno Helig, Helig ap Glannawg, who lived in the sixth century, had a kingdom that stretched from the east of Conwy all the way to Flintshire in the west. Legend had it that Helig’s turreted, stone castle, some two miles from today’s coastline, still lay preserved under the waters of Conwy Bay.
As the road steepened, the craggy rocks loomed over them. Spots of yellow flowers dotted the uneven stone surfaces.
Ruth was trying to hypothesise why Gareth Wright had driven out to Gogarth on the evening of Rosie’s disappearance. As they pulled into the flat concrete car park and observation area, she was filled with a sense of unease.
French turned off the engine as Ruth looked out across the black sea that seemed to stretch out before them for ever. Unclipping her seatbelt, Ruth opened the door. The cold sea wind was refreshing as it blustered and chased itself around her.
Walking towards the grassy edges of the clifftops, she looked down. Her stomach lurched with vertigo. It was nearly seven hundred feet down to the sea, which swirled and crashed aggressively against the sharp rocks.
‘The Devil’s Cliff,’ French said.
‘Sorry?’ Ruth asked. What is he talking about?
‘This section of Gogarth is called the Devil’s Cliff,’ French explained.
Ruth looked down again – she could see why.
‘Remind me, what time did Gareth Wright arrive here?’ Ruth asked as she moved away from the cliff edge and her stomach and head relaxed.
‘Eight thirty, boss,’ French said.
‘Do we think this is all coincidence? Rosie Wright goes missing at around eight o’clock and half an hour later her brother is parked here? Not a bad place to get rid of a body,’ Ruth said, thinking out loud.
French nodded. ‘Yeah, worst-case scenario, the body washes ashore somewhere with all forensic evidence destroyed by being in the sea. At best, the body is dragged out to sea and never seen again.’
Ruth nodded. French was spot on with his summation. She was impressed.
Walking along the clifftop, Ruth looked down into the grass. At this stage, it was all hypothesis so she couldn’t order a fingertip search of the area or get SOCOs involved. It was too expensive.
‘If there’s more rain, we’re going to lose all our forensics up here,’ Ruth said in a concerned voice.
They both crouched, looking into the grass. If there was anything there, they needed to find it now.
We really are looking for a needle in a haystack, Ruth thought sardonically. She moved stones and bird feathers as she gazed across the area slowly. Something silver caught her eye – only the remnants of a chewing gum wrapper.
The noise and strength of the wind oscillated rhythmically. Moving forward, and clearing leaves from the grass, Ruth felt a sudden blast of wind and watched as leaves and feathers danced and swirled away.
Ruth stood up in utter frustration. ‘Bloody hell. This is hopeless!’
‘Boss,’ French said, as he crouched by the small wall that separated the parking area from the grass.
‘We’ll have to get uniform here in the morning and hope there’s no heavy rain,’ Ruth grumbled.
‘Boss,’ French said again.
‘What?’ Ruth asked and then looked over at him.
Bloody hell. He’s not found something?
French looked up at her as she approached.
‘Got something?’ Ruth asked hopefully.
‘I don’t know,’ French said as he raised up his pen. On the end of the pen was a tiny silver hoop. ‘Looks like an earring?’
Ruth shook her head. ‘It’s not an earring.’
‘No?’ French said with a shrug.
‘And it’s too small to be a ring for a finger.’
‘Toe ring?’ French suggested.
Ruth took the pen from French and looked at it. The silver had a slight pink sheen to it.
‘It’s a trainer eyelet,’ Ruth said.
‘A what?’ French asked.
‘The metal ring where the laces go,’ Ruth explained. ‘How the bloody hell did you see that, Mr Hawk-eyes?’
‘It was under some leaves that blew away. Bit of a fluke, really.’
‘Can’t have been here long. It’s virtually unmarked and not rusted.’
Ruth held the eyelet up closer to her eye and into the light. On the underneath, there was something tiny that had been stamped onto the silver metal –Converse.
‘It’s from a Converse trainer of some sort,’ Ruth said. Was it significant? It could have come from anyone’s shoes. And then she had a thought.
Taking out her phone, Ruth skipped to the photo of Rosie that Kathy Wright had texted to her the morning after her disappearance. Using her fingers to enlarge the photo, she scrolled down to the shoes that Rosie was wearing.
Pink Converse All Stars.
Ruth glanced up at French and gestured to the photo. ‘Rosie Wright was wearing these shoes when she went missing.’
She could see the reaction on French’s face. ‘It has to be hers, doesn’t it?’
Getting up and heading for the car, Ruth continued to hold the pen and the eyelet. She delved into the boot, pulled out an evidence bag, dropped the eyelet inside and sealed it.
‘It’s not enough at the moment. We don’t have Rosie’s shoes, so we have no way of establishing if they’re missing an eyelet. Gareth Wright could claim he drove out here to have a look at the view,’ Ruth said.
French nodded as he opened the car door for her. ‘Maybe Blake told him to get rid of Rosie? Or abduct her and put pressure on his mother?’
‘Maybe,’ Ruth said as she went through the possible scenarios herself.
Her phone buzzed. It was Drake. Surely, he didn’t want another bloody update.
‘Boss?’ Ruth said as she answered.
‘Where are you?’ Drake asked.
‘Gareth Wright drove out to the cliffs at Gogarth on the evening that Rosie was abducted. The timings fit exactly with when she disappeared. I’ve found a trainer eyelet that might have belonged to Rosie,’ Ruth explained.
‘Ruth, I want you to get that whole area taped off as a crime scene,’ Drake said. His tone sounded urgent, which confused her.
‘Boss, we don’t really have enough to warrant that kind of manpower, do we?’ She didn’t want to challenge him directly.
‘We got a message from Forensics. They found traces of blood in the boot of Gareth Wright’s car. It’s human and they’re testing it against Rosie’s DNA overnight.’
‘Christ!’ Ruth muttered.
It looked like Gareth Wright was out on these clifftops with Rosie Wright on the night she went missing and never came home.
At last! We’ve got a breakthrough in the case. And we’ve got a prime suspect.
However, it did also mean an acceptance that Rosie Wright was very likely to be dead.
THE SUN WAS SETTING behind the main steeple of St Martin’s Church, which had been built in the eighteenth century. Stubbing out her cigaret
te, Ruth looked around as the last few police officers trundled respectfully into the church for Luke Merringer’s memorial service. As she went in, she could see that most of the officers were in uniform. She hadn’t had time to change, but she didn’t think that Merringer would have minded.
A figure gestured to her as she walked across the back of the sombre church. It was Nick. His face was still red raw from the earlier fire. He was pointing to a space beside him and Sian. That would be too awkward, so she shuffled onto a nearby pew close to Drake and Jones.
The police chaplain began to talk to the congregation. ‘Detective Constable Luke James Merringer carried out his duties with selflessness and integrity. He was an officer willing to take risks for the sake of others, something that police officers do, consciously or unconsciously, practically every day of their lives. Luke believed that the job of police officers was to defend the rights of ordinary citizens and to prevent crime and lawlessness and in pursing those goals. They put their lives at risk, sometimes with tragic consequences. And that is what we are here to mark today in an act of remembrance and thanksgiving to God for Luke’s life.’
Ruth couldn’t help but get caught up in the emotion of what had happened. Wiping a tear from her eye, she looked at the order of service that carried a photograph of Merringer beaming in his usual geeky way.
As the service continued, there were a few of Merringer’s favourite readings and a poem. At the end, they played ‘Always Look On The Bright Side of Life’ which Merringer had requested. It allowed everyone to smile at his sense of humour.
And then the chaplain brought proceedings to an end.
As Ruth shuffled out, she saw Sian approaching. She wasn’t in any kind of mood to talk to her. It wasn’t the time or the place.
‘I’m going to come and get the rest of my stuff tomorrow,’ Sian said. She could barely make eye contact with Ruth.
‘I thought we were going to talk?’ Ruth said. She felt like she had been punched in the stomach. When Sian had moved out, she assumed it was just temporary. They would iron out whatever problems they had and move on together.
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