by Neil White
Laura just drove for a few miles. I watched the green of Lancashire rush past the car windows as we headed back down south, my eyes bobbing in time with the ebb and flow of the walls. This was away from cotton Lancashire. This was farm country, with shallow streams and patches of woodland, filtering the sun.
‘Where next?’ she asked. When I looked around, she continued, ‘What if we’ve lost her?’
I shook my head. I knew straight away where Liza Radley was going.
‘We haven’t lost her,’ I said.
‘But she started the fire, and that can only ever mean one thing: she isn’t going back.’
I thought about that. Liza Radley had played her hand, stared David Watts down, matched and raised. He had sweated and twitched, until his nerve had gone and he had sent someone after her. David Watts had hired a killer to catch a killer, but Watts’s mercenary had also killed people he’d met along the way who might cause problems: Rose Wood, my father, and he had tried to get me. I looked to my right. And Laura.
‘Oh, she’s going back,’ I said, raising my eyebrows, ‘but back to the beginning. Back to Turners Fold.’
I reached into my pocket and pulled out Laura’s phone. I flicked through the recent-calls menu, found Tony’s number, and pressed dial.
Laura turned round to me. I smiled and then looked out of the window.
When Tony answered, I told him what had happened at the house.
‘Tony, I think it’s time to use the recording,’ I said. ‘Get Glen Ross in good company and play it, see what he says.’
I hung up on him and waited for Laura to speak.
‘And what do you want me to do?’ she asked eventually. She didn’t look at me when she spoke. Her eyes stayed on the road, every minute bringing us nearer to Turners Fold.
I thought for a moment, and then said, ‘I need you to create a press storm. Get hold of some TV companies. Get on the newswire. Tell them that the word is going out that the football shootings are tying in at Turners Fold.’
‘Isn’t that going to wreck your exclusive?’
I shook my head. ‘No, because no one else has got inside it like we have.’
‘We?’
‘Yeah, “we”. You got a problem with that?’
She aimed a playful slap at my thigh and then asked, ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Me?’ I scratched my nose and grinned. ‘Lie low and wait,’ I said, ‘and hope it all ends before they catch me. I’ll call you if my hunch is right. But get a TV crew on your side, ready to go.’
Laura looked at me with curiosity. There wasn’t long to go.
FIFTY-TWO
Nell was on the phone when Tony walked into the police station. She and Mike had been up all night, coordinating new people as they arrived in Turners Fold, all of them looking for Liza Radley. What Glen Ross didn’t know was that some of them were just asking awkward questions to make him nervous. So far, Turners Fold had been an impenetrable wall.
A local officer sidled up to her.
Nell just put her hands over the receiver and raised her eyebrows in query.
‘We’ve got a reporter at the desk, local. Tony Davies.’
‘What does he want?’
The officer shook his head. ‘Didn’t say, but he’s okay.’
Nell and Mike exchanged glances, and then Nell nodded. ‘Show him through.’
They watched as Tony approached them, a press badge in his hand.
Nell looked at Mike, who gave a small shrug. She turned back to Tony. ‘Tell me what you’ve got.’
Tony looked towards the police station. ‘I need to see you in there, with Glen Ross.’
‘Detective Inspector Ross?’
Tony nodded.
‘Why with us?’ asked Mike.
‘No offence, but I’m writing the story of the year, not helping you out. I want to confront Glen Ross with what I have, but not alone. He’s dangerous at the moment.’
Nell couldn’t help a little smile. ‘And what is it in connection with?’
Tony stayed expressionless. ‘You know what it’s in connection with.’ He paused. ‘I’d get David Watts down here too, but I’m told he’s on the run.’
Nell’s eyes flickered, nothing more, but Tony saw it.
Nell considered Tony for a while, and then she nodded and smiled. ‘Okay, sounds good. Just give me a minute with him first.’
Tony watched them go and smiled to himself.
Nell tapped lightly on Glen Ross’s door. She went in when she heard a mumbled, ‘Yeah?’
She was shocked when she saw him. He was paler than before, looked washed-up and wrung out, dark rings under his eyes. She could see a light tremble.
‘You okay?’ asked Nell.
He looked up and shook his head. ‘I’ve been better. Some bug or something.’
Nell shrugged and sat down. Mike came in and sat on a chair just behind her. She didn’t say anything at first. Let him sweat it out for a while.
She noticed he was doing just that. His face was shiny with dampness and the pen he was holding flickered in his grip. She saw that there were no papers on his desk, nothing to show that he had been doing anything before they came into the room, as if he had been just staring at nothing.
‘We spoke with some of your staff last night,’ said Nell.
He looked up, seemed disinterested, and sat back. ‘What about it?’
Nell looked down at her suit, stopped to brush off some loose lint. She looked up and smiled. Spin it out, make him wait. Glen Ross began to shuffle in his chair, started to swallow, blinked too often.
‘They say David Watts has been calling you this week.’
Glen Ross looked down and began to drum his pen on his knee.
Nell let the silence sit there until she could tell he wasn’t going to answer.
‘Well, has he?’
Glen Ross looked up. ‘Why are you questioning me?’
Nell shrugged. ‘We’re not questioning anyone. We’re just trying to find out what David Watts has been doing. One area of enquiry is his telephone calls over the last week. You told me he hadn’t called. Now, I think different.’ She smiled. ‘As a fellow police officer, I was hoping I could count on you to help.’
Glen Ross blinked.
‘Are you willing to help?’
‘Do I have to?’
Nell shrugged. ‘Are you worried if you do?’
Glen Ross looked down again, his mouth open, breathing heavily. He rubbed his chest, discomfort creasing his face.
‘You okay?’ asked Mike.
He didn’t get a response. Glen Ross just looked at the floor and took some deep breaths.
Nell turned round to Mike, who shrugged and then shook his head. She knew what that meant. They would get nothing out of him without a lawyer present.
‘There’s a reporter who wants to talk to you,’ said Nell. ‘He just wants to get an update on what’s been going on around here.’
Glen Ross looked up slowly. ‘Who’s that?’
She held her hands out. ‘Never met him before. Local reporter. In his fifties, maybe. Loud jumper. Tony something.’
‘Tony Davies?’
She pointed an affirmative. ‘That sounds about right.’ A pause. ‘Do you want to see him?’
He curled his lip, but then said, ‘Why not?’
Nell nodded at Mike, who went out of the room to get Tony. When the door clicked shut, Nell asked, ‘Is there anything you want to tell me?’ There was no answer. ‘You might have had your reasons for lying about David Watts, but I don’t care about that. I just want to clear up this lead and then get back to London.’
Glen Ross put his head back and looked at the ceiling.
Nell watched him closely. She was getting concerned. He looked under so much strain that he might just snap right in front of her.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Mike walked back into the room, with Tony just behind him. Nell stayed where she was, but Glen Ross stood up briefly to no
d at Tony, before slumping back into his seat.
Tony walked to a filing cabinet and placed a small tape player on top. Nell looked at him with curiosity, wondering what he was going to do.
Tony turned round to address the room.
‘I know why you two are here. I’ve been told from a good source that a woman has been calling David Watts claiming to be the person shooting footballers. But the caller claimed she was a girl killed here in Turners Fold over ten years ago.’
No one answered. No confirmation. No denial.
‘And I know that the caller told David to either confess to the girl’s murder or she would keep on shooting footballers.’
Nell and Mike exchanged looks. He was getting good information from somewhere.
‘Things got more complicated yesterday, because you, Glen, announced that Bob Garrett, one of your own men, went to you two days ago and confessed that he had seen Annie Paxman’s killer and done nothing about it, that he could have stopped it.’
Nell and Mike turned to Glen Ross, who was nodding, looking uncertain.
‘Then later that evening, after this surprise confession, Bob Garrett blew his own brains out by the old aviary, right where Annie Paxman was found all those years ago.’
Glen Ross was still nodding. Nell’s eyes narrowed, watching him carefully. This reporter was speaking for effect, part of a build-up. Something was coming.
Tony shrugged. ‘Works out just right. Case solved. It gets David Watts off the hook. Seems that the shooter just got it wrong, and maybe she’ll stop shooting now.’
‘Where is this going?’ asked Nell.
Tony smiled. ‘There was no suicide, because there was no confession.’
Nell raised her eyebrows. ‘How do you know?’
‘Because I know that Bob Garrett saw the killer, but I know that it wasn’t Colin Wood he saw.’
‘Colin Wood?’ asked Nell.
‘The local fall guy, set up by Glen Ross.’
Tony threw a piece of paper on the desk. Everyone watched it float down.
Glen Ross recognised it first. An incident log. A transcript of the radio traffic from ten years ago. He closed his eyes.
‘Bob Garrett saw David Watts running away. He didn’t see Colin Wood, whatever Glen Ross said yesterday. But he kept quiet because Glen Ross told him to, because Glen Ross knew all along that David Watts had killed her, but he covered it up, because it would be bad for the town.’
‘That’s not true,’ said Ross, his voice a whisper, his eyes still closed.
‘And he knew about the football killings and David Watts, but did nothing about it. And a tall American came to see him, just before Bob Garrett was shot, matching the description of someone trying to kill Bob Garrett’s son.’
Nell’s eyes snapped to Glen Ross. He was staring at the photograph on his desk of his wife and daughters. He looked to have tears in his eyes.
‘Ross?’ asked Nell. There was no reply.
Tony pointed at Glen Ross. ‘He knew, all of the time, and did nothing. And he let one of his own officers die.’ Tony looked at Mike. ‘And he thought David Watts was worth more than the life of that young black girl. Or that poor simple bastard sat in prison.’
‘You knew, Tony, you fucking hypocrite,’ Glen Ross snarled.
‘I heard the rumours, that’s all. But you told me they weren’t true, and I had no proof.’ And then Tony smiled, nice and slow. ‘Until now.’
Tony turned round and pressed play on the machine. Nell’s eyes looked towards the machine when Bob Garrett’s voice filled the room.
‘I can see a girl. We’re just going to investigate, but I think she’s deceased. Get an ambulance here quick though.’
‘What’s your exact location?’
‘Victoria Park, Turners Fold. I can see a naked girl on the floor of the aviary in Victoria Park. Otherwise, scene is quiet.’
‘Got that. Scenes of crime are on their way. I’ll contact MCU.’
Nell and Mike swapped looks, Mike’s now keen, and then turned back to Glen Ross. There was a gap, and then a fresh radio call came on.
‘Comms, do you copy?’
‘I copy.’
‘We’ve got David Watts leaving the scene. Did you get that? I’ve got him about a hundred yards from me, heading towards Pendle Wood.’
‘Did you say David Watts?’
‘Yes, David Watts. Eighteen years of age. Resident of Turners Fold.’
‘Do we have an ID on the body?’
‘Young black female, maybe eighteen or twenty. Can’t see any identification, but I recognise her. She’s local.’ Then the pause. ‘Hang on, there’s something in her hand. Some kind of a chain, might be gold.’
Another voice came on.
‘David Watts heading towards the school. Running that way.’
‘That was James Radley,’ said Tony, over the static. ‘He’s dead too.’
‘Any identifying marks on the chain?’ the radio voice asked.
Mike and Nell had their jaws set, their eyes on fire.
‘Yeah, there’s something on it, but hard to make it out. Will spell it. Romeo-alpha-tango-hotel. Delta-echo. Oscar-romeo-tango. Echo-whisky.’
Mike and Nell exchanged glances. Mike mouthed ‘Oh shit.’
Glen Ross turned to stare out of the window. Then another call came on. Bob Garrett again.
‘2199 Garrett calling in for an update on the suspect?’
‘Copy, officer. Suspect ruled out.’
Glen Ross reached behind himself and pulled the picture of his wife and daughter off the desk.
‘Could you repeat that?’
‘Named suspect no longer a suspect, 2199 Garrett.’
Nell and Mike exhaled in unison.
‘I saw him. Repeat, David Watts was running from the scene.’
‘Copy, officer, but I repeat, named suspect ruled out.’
‘Inspector?’ Nell asked.
Glen Ross reached behind himself again. Nell’s eyes followed his hands, transfixed.
‘We’re getting Colin Wood’s DNA tested.’ It was Tony. ‘We’ve spoken to his solicitor. They hadn’t done that. Tested it, I mean.’ He paused. ‘It’ll still match, won’t it, Glen, with the evidence left at the scene?’
Glen Ross opened a drawer.
‘After all, you took the samples from Colin, didn’t you? Swabbed and bagged.’ Tony was barking out the accusations. ‘But maybe you swapped them. Colin Wood was lifted for being drunk and you saw your chance. You got David to give you some swabs and you put those into the bag used for Colin Wood’s swabs. All you had to do was put those swabs into the database with Colin Wood’s details attached, and the database would find the link.’
No response.
‘Inspector?’ It was Nell again, but this time her voice was more insistent.
Nell watched his hand and realised too late what he was doing. The tape played static in the background, radio bleeps, but she could no longer hear it. She stood up, her hands out. ‘No, no.’
Glen Ross pulled out a gun and put it in his lap. He looked up. It was the gun found next to Bob Garrett.
Nell put her hands out, screaming at him, ‘Drop it, drop it!’
Tony didn’t move. It was all happening too quickly.
Glen Ross lifted the gun and put it into his mouth. He turned round in his chair, looked at the other people in the room. His face was creased in tears. He looked frightened. Nell was still screaming at him. A thin threat against a suicide.
Tony had his mouth open in shock, turned round to switch off the machine. Glen Ross shut his eyes and began to squeeze the trigger. A sound came out of Tony’s mouth, a plea to stop.
The noise of the gun echoed around the room. Glen Ross’s head knocked back against his seat and then he slumped forward. Glass tumbled to the floor, the sound of it breaking drowned out by the gunshot, red splashes covering the shards. There was a scramble of feet as people in the station either hit the decks or came running towards the offi
ce.
A junior officer, reckless and young, burst in, his baton raised.
Nell lowered her arms. Her head drooped. ‘He shot himself,’ she said quietly, and then pointed. ‘Look, in his hand.’
The officer looked over and saw the gun resting in Glen Ross’s lap, the end sticky with blood. He stood up straight. ‘Oh, shit,’ was all he said.
Mike turned to Tony. ‘You got your story.’
FIFTY-THREE
We’d hoped to sneak into town, but it didn’t quite work out that way.
We were just hitting the fringes of Turners Fold, the fields breaking up into stone boxes, when I saw a police car, tucked away behind a petrol station. I glanced over at Laura. I could tell by her face that she’d seen it too.
I looked ahead and realised that I had a hundred yards to decide what to do. The last I’d heard, I was wanted for murder.
I looked around. The car was small inside, not many places to hide. I looked up. The patrol car was getting nearer. I put my hand against the window, trying to block out the view of my face. I looked over at Laura, who was staring straight ahead, her jaw set firm.
‘Why don’t you just put a sign on the car,’ she said.
‘What’s he doing?’ I whispered. ‘Is he looking?’
‘Just coming up to it,’ she said, ‘and there’s no need to whisper. He can’t hear you.’
I watched Laura trying not to look suspicious, but her head was rigid, her eyes fixed in front of her. Then she glanced in her rear-view mirror. ‘He’s pulling out,’ she hissed.
‘What, following us?’
‘Seems that way.’
‘Shit!’ I dropped my hand and tried to think what to do, tried to work out the best way to go. I looked up at Laura. ‘Take your next right.’
Laura glanced over. ‘We’ve got a police car behind us. We’re going down there just until he turns on his blues.’
‘Okay, I understand, but I need to get away from town.’
Laura looked in her mirror. ‘He’s getting nearer.’
‘Shit, okay, just turn off, nice and slow, no indications. Once you’ve turned off, get onto one of the back tracks.’
