Winter’s injuries were less severe. Having been given the all clear by the police doctor, he had endured some emergency dental work, before finally being passed fit for the trip to Southampton Central. Hudson had volunteered to accompany him, determined not to let the multiple killer out of his sight until he was safely behind bars. He had caused too much anguish, shed too much blood, for them to take any chances.
DC McAndrew was in the cab with the driver, leaving Hudson and Winter alone. Hudson had expected the killer to be downcast, even penitent, but in fact the burly Swede seemed far from cowed, refusing to say a word to anyone and looking at them – Hudson especially – with a mixture of amusement and disdain. It was as if he was too far gone, as if the loving father had been permanently replaced by something darker and more disturbing.
Hudson felt eyes on him and looked up. Winter lolled on the bench opposite, his body jogging back and forth in time with the van’s progress, staring across the divide. Hudson met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated. Winter looked a mess, his face bruised, smears of blood still clinging to his stubble – an odd frame for the bright white dental implants that now graced his mouth.
‘How’s your friend?’
His cracked voice made Hudson jump. He had barely spoken a word in two hours.
‘Is she going to make it?’
‘Shut your mouth.’
There was no question about it, Winter seemed amused. It made Hudson’s blood boil, but he reined in his fury.
‘She surprised me, you know.’
‘Enough, Winter.’
‘She was stronger than the rest, more resourceful.’
Winter was watching Hudson closely, clearly enjoying his discomfort.
‘I thought she would die like the rest. On her knees, begging for mercy.’
‘If you want to confess, Winter, save it for the station.’
But Winter waved his hand, to signal that they were way past that.
‘But Grace … she wanted to fight. Stupid really, when she was unarmed and alone.’
‘I’m not going to tell you again.’
But Winter laughed, flashing his new teeth at Hudson.
‘I gave her two bolts. I would have given her a third. I wanted to give her a third.’
Hudson glared at him, saying nothing.
‘Still, maybe the first two will do the job. She lost a lot of blood, was in a bad way … You never know, if you’re lucky you might be in line for a promotion before the night is out.’
Winter had no time to react, Hudson bridging the space between them in a heartbeat, ploughing a fist into his stomach.
‘Jesus Christ –’
Fear suddenly flared in Winter’s eyes, but it was too late, Hudson dragging him off the bench and throwing him to the floor. Climbing upon his prone victim, Hudson punched him in the stomach again, once, twice, three times.
‘What the hell …?’ Winter gasped.
But he wasn’t allowed to finish, Hudson hauling him up and slamming him back onto the bench, his back crashing into the side of the van. Now Joseph Hudson moved in close, pulling the startled Winter towards him.
‘If anything happens to her, anything at all, I will come for you …’
They were nose to nose now. Hudson could see a bead of sweat trickling down Winter’s face.
‘And I’ll finish the job.’
Hudson maintained his grip for a moment, revelling in Winter’s discomfort, before suddenly releasing him and returning to the opposite bench. Hudson’s heart was thumping, his head buzzing – he wanted to scream and shout, to tear the van apart – but he was not going to compromise himself, would not let Winter score that small victory. So instead he sat on the bench, staring directly ahead.
Winter looked flustered and scared, fearing perhaps that Hudson would come for him again. But already he was receding from Hudson’s consciousness. He had no time for this killer, this pathetic little worm, spluttering and gasping on the bench opposite.
His thoughts were all with Helen.
155
She pushed the door to and rested her head against its cool surface. It had been a horrendous night and Charlie felt utterly exhausted.
She had been determined to stay with Helen, but Superintendent Simmons had arrived to dismiss her, taking on the role of nightwatchman herself. She knew how close Charlie and Helen were, but she had a special bond with her protégée too and, reluctantly, Charlie had allowed herself to be convinced. Tonight had been a gruelling experience – up in the helicopter, trying to suppress her feelings of nausea as they swept the forest in search of Winter, and she felt utterly spent – tired, dirty and emotionally wrung out. Nevertheless, she had resisted Simmons’s urgings long enough to receive encouraging news from the operating theatre – Helen was stable now and would pull through – before bending her steps for home.
Now as she looked around at the familiar surroundings of her house, Charlie felt enormous relief. She and Steve had had a good chat following her apologetic text and they seemed to be on the road to recovery. Jessie too had been a little better, sleeping through last night, and it was just possible that Charlie might get some rest. Something which was sorely required.
But as she crept up the stairs she was surprised to find the diminutive figure of her daughter waiting for her.
‘Hey, what are you doing up?’ she asked, concerned, shooting a look at her watch. ‘It’s nearly midnight.’
She feared she knew the answer, and wondered why Steve was not already on the scene, but to her surprise Jessie replied:
‘Couldn’t sleep.’
‘Why not?’
‘I’m hot …’
‘Well, we can soon fix that,’ Charlie said, guiding her daughter back into her bedroom.
Helping her back into bed, Charlie lifted the covers up to her waist and switched the table fan on, angling it in her direction. The cool breeze seemed to please her daughter, who snuggled down with her bears and closed her eyes once more. Heeding Grace Simmons’s advice, Charlie sat down next to her, stroking her hair as she started to sing.
‘Hush, little Jessie, don’t you cry. Mummy’s going to sing you a lullaby …’
Within a minute, Jessica was asleep, the very image of innocence and serenity. Charlie stopped singing, staring at her daughter with tears in her eyes. But they were not tears of sadness, or even anxiety, but happiness.
Perhaps there was no need to be afraid after all.
Epilogue
156
‘So how are you feeling?’
Helen Grace considered for a moment, before answering.
‘I feel … good.’
‘I’m very glad to hear it. You gave us all quite a scare.’
Grace Simmons said it with a smile, but Helen knew that her mentor had been worried, visiting her every day, until she was finally discharged. Helen had lost a lot of blood in the forest and endured two arduous operations to limit the damage done by Winter’s bolts. Thankfully, these had been successful and though Helen had sustained some muscle damage and scarring, the doctors had assured her that she would make a full recovery in time. Which was why she was back at work, albeit on desk duty.
A month had passed since that dark night in the New Forest. And though snapshots of her struggle with Winter still plagued her dreams, Helen did feel in a good place. This was partly down to her natural resilience, but mostly down to the solicitous care of her team. Simmons had continued to mother her, popping round to her flat on a number of occasions. Ellie McAndrew had also paid a visit, with gifts from the team, as had DS Hudson, clutching an armful of flowers. But it was, of course, Charlie who had been her greatest support, appearing regularly with home-cooked meals, magazines, even a Get Well Soon card from Jessica, which had made Helen cry.
It was not hard to recuperate with this kind of support around you. Indeed, the principal problem had been stopping Helen from returning to work – she had never been good at kicking her heels. Somehow Charlie had prevailed on
her, however, persuading Helen to give her body a rest for once. For all that, it felt good to be back in Southampton Central, primed and ready for work.
‘I don’t want you overdoing it. Things are pretty quiet at the moment, so why don’t you take the opportunity to catch up on some paperwork?’
Helen raised an eyebrow.
‘I mean it, Helen,’ Simmons continued firmly. ‘If you go throwing yourself around, chasing the bad guys, you’ll end up doing some permanent damage to that shoulder. And I have no intention of sending my best officer to the knacker’s yard.’
‘I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps there’s a cold case I could look into, though it’s not really my style …’
‘I’m sure you can find something interesting. I don’t want you working too hard.’
This was a constant refrain from Simmons and Helen knew not to interrupt.
‘I know you like to lead by example, but one day you’ll put yourself in the line of fire and run out of luck. I know I can’t stop you doing what you do best … but, please, don’t make this place, the things you do here, your legacy. There is more to life than work.’
Simmons stole a glance at the photo of her late husband and two strapping sons, which stood proudly framed on her desk. Helen glanced at it too – it was a photo which always brought a smile to her face.
‘I know,’ Helen conceded. ‘And I’m working on it …’
‘I’m very glad to hear it.’
Simmons paused for a second, looking back up at Helen and appraising her.
‘You more than anyone deserve a little happiness, Helen. So, don’t run from it, embrace it.’
As Helen walked away from Simmons’s office, she felt more optimistic, more determined than she had done in ages. The fears and doubts which had gripped her for years seemed to be falling away, proving to be meaningless phantoms after all. She would heed Simmons’s advice – she would seize the day and try to be happy.
But there was something she needed to do first.
157
The corridors were quiet this morning. South Hants hospital was usually chaotic and noisy, nurses and porters chatting and joking as they wheeled their charges around. Today, however, the wards seemed peaceful and hushed, as if a respectful silence was being observed.
Helen padded along the sixth floor, lost in thought. While she’d been recuperating, she’d kept close tabs on Julia Winter’s condition, hoping against hope that she would make some improvement, that she would manage to fight off the pneumonia that was laying her low. But, to her immense sadness and frustration, the young woman’s condition had deteriorated. Doctors were now unable to communicate with her, her brain function had flat-lined and it was only the drains and the ventilator that were keeping her alive. Doctors had urged Alice Winter to consider withdrawing life support and, after much soul searching, she had agreed. Which was why Helen was here. It was not a duty she was looking forward to, but one she felt bound to honour.
Charlie was already in the viewing area, looking at mother and child through the window. She turned briefly as Helen joined her, before returning her attention to Alice and Julia.
‘Poor girl. That anyone should have to end up like that …’
Helen nodded, giving her friend’s arm an affectionate rub.
‘It seems so cruel, so arbitrary, that some should thrive and others, who’ve led a perfectly blameless life …’
‘I know,’ Helen agreed, as Charlie petered out. ‘It’s such a waste.’
They continued to stare at the couple, watching as Alice removed a hair from her daughter’s face, before exchanging a couple of words with the attending doctor. As she did so, Alice spotted Helen, and gave her a brief, meaningful nod. Helen was moved to see tears pricking the bereft mother’s eyes.
‘I’m not sure I can watch,’ Charlie murmured, her voice shaking.
‘We’ll do it together,’ Helen reassured her. ‘Alice will need our support afterwards.’
Charlie nodded, but said nothing. It was true – hard as this was, Helen was glad they were here. Alice’s husband and daughter had journeyed over from Sweden to be with her, the latter spending some valuable time with her half-sister, but they had decided against attending today, deeming it too upsetting for young Lilly. Alice would feel so many conflicting emotions when it came to it – grief, emptiness, guilt – and she would need someone with her.
Alice and the doctor had now ceased their conversation and Helen could tell by the solemn look on their faces that the moment had come. Alice darted another brief glance at Helen and Charlie, before returning to her daughter’s bedside.
Helen tried to keep a grip on her own emotions, as she watched Alice pick up Julia’s hand to kiss it once more. The grieving mother held it tight, stroking it gently, even as the tears slid down her face. Instinctively, Helen laid a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, drawing closer to her. And there they stood, watching the distressing tableau in front of them, reflecting on a life that had been cut short by tragedy and lamenting all that might have been.
158
They walked away in silence, deeply moved by what they had just witnessed.
Julia had passed away peacefully in her mother’s arms, bathed in love and affection. The young woman was now at peace, which was something, but it still left both of them feeling hollow.
Swallowing their own distress, they had done their best to comfort Alice, who had borne up remarkably well, given the circumstances. She was obviously devastated and full of regret, but she had also treasured her time with her daughter and was grateful that she’d been with her at the end. In an act of amazing generosity, she had earlier made contact with her former husband in prison, asking if he wanted to apply for compassionate leave to be with his daughter today, but he’d refused, perhaps too ashamed to face her.
Alice had now left the ward and was on the phone to her husband, chatting soberly but positively about the arrangements that needed to be made. It was a touching scene – Alice clearly wanted to make up for past neglect by ensuring Julia was given the send-off she deserved – but it was not their place to linger, so Helen and Charlie had discreetly departed.
Walking back to Helen’s bike, they said little, both knowing how the other was feeling. Occasions such as these were always upsetting, but nevertheless gave meaning to what they did, underlining that people mattered, that individual lives meant something and were worth protecting. Helen just wished she had known Julia earlier, when she might have made a real difference to her, and she suspected Charlie felt the same.
‘Are you heading back to base?’ Charlie eventually asked, as they neared Helen’s Kawasaki.
‘Better had,’ Helen replied, wearily. ‘I’ve got to begin the hunt for a new crime scene photographer, now that Graham Ross has decided to move on.’
‘He’s only got himself to blame,’ Charlie replied, shaking her head ruefully. ‘If you lie down with dogs …’
‘My thoughts exactly. I’ve also got a month’s worth of paperwork to catch up on, so …’
‘Don’t overdo it.’
‘I’m fine, honestly. I’m eating properly again, sleeping well, everything is boringly normal.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ Charlie responded, smiling. ‘You could do with a bit of normal in your life.’
‘And how are you?’ Helen asked, changing the subject. ‘How’s Jessica?’
‘Much better, thanks. We’ve had three weeks of undisturbed sleep, so fingers crossed …’
‘And Steve? Everything ok between you two?’
Charlie paused, uncertain how to answer, which worried Helen. But to her surprise, Charlie now broke out into an even wider smile.
‘Actually, things are good. Better than good. I’m pregnant.’
‘Right,’ Helen said, momentarily stumped. ‘I didn’t know that you …’
‘I wasn’t. I didn’t plan for it, wasn’t ready for it, but accidents will happen.’
‘Well, then I’m very happy for yo
u.’
‘Thank you. We’re both really pleased,’ Charlie replied, laughing at the cosmic craziness of it all. ‘I guess it was meant to be.’
Helen hugged her, giving her old friend a kiss on the cheek, before letting her go. Helen watched her walk away, feeling both excited and moved. Charlie had been through so much recently, Steve and Jessica too, and they deserved some happiness. It cheered Helen enormously to think that there would soon be a fourth member of their family, bringing fun, noise, happiness and chaos to their loving household. The last few months had been so dark, so challenging, but finally the sun was beginning to shine on them, promising better things for the future.
It was a timely reminder that amid all the death and suffering, there is always life.
THE BEGINNING
Let the conversation begin …
Follow the Penguin Twitter.com@penguinUKbooks
Keep up-to-date with all our stories YouTube.com/penguinbooks
Pin ‘Penguin Books’ to your Pinterest
Like ‘Penguin Books’ on Facebook.com/penguinbooks
Listen to Penguin at SoundCloud.com/penguin-books
Find out more about the author and
discover more stories like this at Penguin.co.uk
MICHAEL JOSEPH
UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia
India | New Zealand | South Africa
Michael Joseph is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
First published 2018
Copyright © M. J. Arlidge, 2018
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Cover design: Andrew Smith
Cover images © Alamy
ISBN: 978-1-405-92567-9
Down to the Woods Page 36
