She crawled back to the bed on her knees. It was the only furniture in the room apart from a chest of drawers. There was no bedding, but she had a stained blanket and wriggled under it as best she could without the use of her hands, trying to get warm. The cold was maddening; it taunted her as she tried to fall asleep – anything to make reality go away. But her brain wouldn’t allow it; she was to be ready for the next time, if and when it came. Maybe he’d moved on somewhere else and they’d die here from hunger and thirst. Hannah didn’t know which scenario was worse. She’d do anything to survive.
She curled up tighter on the bed and rubbed her fingers together, blowing on them. There wasn’t a sound and she had no idea where they were, only that it was in the middle of nowhere. She wondered if anyone was searching for them. Surely they’d have been missed by now? She imagined people crawling all over the National Park looking for them, and somebody stumbling upon this place. She envisioned her salvation and rescue, together with Sophie, who would be unharmed. Sleep came momentarily, but instinct woke her joltingly.
Think.
She looked around again, half hoping that it had all been a dream. It wasn’t. She’d tried the window. The shutters were locked, preventing her from getting to the glass. She’d tried levering them open but they were sturdy. There was nothing in the room that could be used as a weapon and she’d found out the hard way that she didn’t have the strength to go head to head.
The same thoughts whirled around her brain.
Then the front door banged.
Chapter 21
The voice had been polite and gentle, with a hint of maturity that hadn’t quite emerged in his nineteen years but was beginning to. Zachary Fitzgerald had called Kelly’s personal mobile and they had agreed to meet at Wasdale. Kelly was keen to finally meet the young man who’d endured the ordeal of finding his grandfather in his final humiliating state.
Emma sat in the passenger seat, reading. Kelly enjoyed the peace and quiet; it allowed her to recycle her thoughts. The drive along the north shore of Ullswater was uneventful, and she took a minute to absorb the beauty: a few boats chugged lazily along and the water beckoned any passer-by to park up and dip a toe in. She could drive the route all day long, but sadly they soon pulled off towards Watermillock and her stomach knotted again. The Fitzgerald estate wasn’t quite as far as the church where they’d found the Teacher’s first victim last year, but it still made her tense.
She pulled in to the private road and Wasdale Hall loomed close. Emma stopped reading and looked up at the house.
‘I wished I was a princess living here when I was a little girl,’ she said, taking Kelly by surprise.
‘Really?’ She laughed. ‘If it was ever that grand, it’s long gone now.’ But Emma never took her eyes off the property, and Kelly realised that nothing could dim the younger woman’s romantic notion of the place.
Mrs Cairns answered the door and was cool. It was no surprise. The last thing Kelly expected was a warm welcome, and she’d briefed Emma earlier. After they’d finished here, they were going along to Linda’s cottage to meet her son, Dominic. Perhaps that was why she was anxious; more likely it was just her usual demeanour.
‘Morning, Linda,’ Kelly said brightly. She barely got a smile in return as she introduced her colleague, but at least Linda opened the door to let them in. This time, they were led to a different room, and it was well kept. A fire burned and Kelly remembered that it was still only May. Some effort had been made and she wondered who had instigated it.
‘Wait here, please.’ Linda disappeared. Neither Kelly nor Emma sat down. Instead, they looked around. The room was cosy and well furnished, if a little sparse. The armchairs were worn, but in a pleasing way, and Kelly wondered if the room had been used by the earl until very recently. A grand painting of a hunting scene hung over the great stone fireplace. Kelly looked closely at the characters: a nobleman on a horse surveyed his land, surrounded by trusty hounds, as a gentlewoman and her daughter sat on a grassy bank. It was dated, ephemeral and a little disconcerting. It belonged in a museum, not a home, and reminded Kelly of the earl’s study: a snippet of a bygone era.
The door opened and a tall, shy young man with dark floppy hair walked in with his hands in his pockets. His fringe was long enough to give his eyes somewhere to hide, and he was slim but well built, like his grandfather had been. His face was chiselled and his shoulders broad; there was no doubt as to his lineage. He wore a maroon jumper with a grey shirt underneath, and a pair of worn black jeans. He had slippers on his feet and walked silently towards them, only looking up when he was a metre away.
‘I’ll stay, Zachary,’ Linda said, following him in.
‘No. I’m fine.’ His voice was gentle but firm, and Linda looked annoyed. Kelly wondered if she wanted to stay not only to protect the boy, but to listen to their conversation so she could relay it back to Brian and who knew who else. The dogs sneaked around her and Linda went to shoo them out. Clearly they weren’t allowed in this part of the house. But lots of rules had been broken lately.
‘Leave them,’ Zac commanded, his voice deliberate. Linda shot him a momentary glance of surprise, but then left and closed the door. Kelly watched as the older woman did as she was told, and was surprised at the authoritative nature of this young man.
‘Zachary, I’m Kelly Porter, and this is my colleague Emma Hide. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m so sorry about your grandfather.’ Kelly held out her hand. Zachary went towards her to take it, but his one glance up was towards Emma.
‘Hi, it’s Zac. Please call me Zac.’
‘OK, Zac, may we sit down?’ He was too tall for her and she wanted an even playing field.
‘Yes please.’ Zac sat too, stealing another glance at the younger detective.
‘I’ll get to the point. You reported your grandfather’s safe missing, but that’s not the only reason we’re here. There’s no easy way to put this, but the post-mortem has concluded without doubt that your grandfather’s death was staged to look like suicide.’
Zac looked at Kelly now, fully concentrating on the detective in charge, with Emma forgotten.
‘What?’ His face, bereft as it was before the blow, now crumpled, and he placed his hands either side of his head. His foot tapped uncontrollably, making his knees jolt. Kelly gave him time. She’d delivered shit news many times over, and there was no way to dress it up and make it soft and bouncy; the only way to do it was to be blunt and deal with the fallout.
‘So you think the safe has something to do with it?’ Zac’s voice was steady but higher- pitched than before. Kelly nodded.
‘It could well be, and it could indicate a motive. Zac, this is now a murder inquiry. We need you to help us paint a picture of your grandfather’s world: who was in it, who he trusted and, more importantly, who he didn’t trust and why. I appreciate that he was a private man. Were you two close?’ Kelly reckoned she already knew the answer. Zac nodded, and now the tears came in streams down his face.
‘How can you be so sure? I saw him …’
‘I know you did. And I want you to try and cast your mind back and tell me everything – every tiny detail – about what you found. Take your time.’
Zac got up abruptly and paced towards the fireplace. He appeared deep in thought. He brushed away his tears and composed himself, and Kelly got the impression that here was a young man wise beyond his years. She’d read that neither parent had stuck around for long – not that they knew who his father was – and his grandfather had raised him. If his only pals were Linda Cairns and Brian Walker, Kelly surmised that the lad’s day-to-day life must have been pretty dour.
‘I heard a noise.’
‘What sort of noise?’
‘A bang. I guess it was the stool.’
‘Could it have been anything else?’
Zac closed his eyes and screwed his face up. ‘It could have been a window.’
Kelly looked at Emma, who made notes.
‘How lo
ng was it from the banging noise to when you went in?’
‘Ten minutes, no longer.’
‘Was the window open when you did go in?’
Zac thought intently.
‘Yes, it was open.’ It was this kind of tiny detail that Kelly was looking for. Now she could instruct forensics to examine the window frame as a potential entry and exit point.
‘Would you have known if anyone was in the house?’
Again Zac concentrated. ‘Not really. It’s an old house; it creaks and things rattle. The dogs would have sensed it, though, if anyone had got in.’ Zac petted them. Both animals sat protectively at his feet and had nuzzled their snouts into him when he’d cried.
‘Do you know anyone who was harassing your grandfather, blackmailing him, perhaps, or bothering him in any way?’
‘No,’ Zac said.
‘Did he tell you of any particular worries before he died?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know what was in the safe?’
‘No, I never asked, and I never saw him use it.’
‘How did you find out it was gone? Where was it kept?’
Zac reddened slightly. ‘It was in his wardrobe. I saw it arrive, a couple of years ago, and helped Brian put it in there. I went in to look at his clothes …’
Kelly understood. She’d done the same with her father’s shirts. They still smelled of him six months later when they were sent off to the charity shop.
‘It might be a good time to tell you that we’ve spoken to your grandfather’s solicitor, and apart from a gift to Linda, you’re the sole beneficiary of the estate. I think there is debt, but that is for the executor to discuss with you. I thought you might like to know.’ Kelly waited.
Zac bent his head and sighed. ‘He’d said I was, but I didn’t expect …’
It was a tender moment and Kelly couldn’t help but feel maternal towards the young man. ‘What is your relationship with Linda and Brian?’
‘Erm … she’s always been here. She does everything. She was close to Grandpa. Brian comes and goes. Grandpa rarely let him in the house. He thought there was something going on between them, but he never asked. Everybody else knows they’ve been living together for years. My Grandpa didn’t. He was old fashioned.’ He blushed a little, and Kelly warmed to this good-natured young man even more.
‘Can you take me to your grandfather’s room and show me where the safe was?’
‘Sure.’ The three of them stood up and Zac stole another glance towards Emma before leading the way out of the room. He commanded the dogs to stay at the foot of the staircase as he went up. Kelly and Emma followed him along the landing and into a dark bedroom. Zac tutted and drew the curtains. He looked at the bed for a moment; it seemed to Kelly a hugely private gesture.
A grand mahogany wardrobe stood against a wall, and Zac went to it and opened the left-hand door. He pointed inside.
‘In there.’
‘When was the last time you saw it?’
‘Grandad asked me to fetch a jacket. That was about two days before he died.’ Zac looked at his feet.
Kelly went over the route to the bedroom in her head. She’d never known a lightweight safe – that would defeat their purpose – and so moving it would be a professional job. It was possible that the earl had ordered it removed before he died.
‘Thank you. When you said you helped get it up here, do you remember what it looked like? Even the model perhaps?’
‘Brian will know; he ordered it.’
Chapter 22
Linda Cairns’ cottage was a pretty stone structure with a small, well-tended front garden and an archway that led to the main entrance at the side. Kelly had insisted that Linda need not accompany them, and the news had resulted in even poorer manners from the housekeeper. They knocked on the small red-painted door and stepped back. The smell of spring flowers was heady, and early wasps and bees buzzed around.
The door was opened by a tall young man in swimming shorts and nothing else. His body and hair were wet and he’d left footprints behind him on the tiles. He smiled confidently and stood back.
‘Kelly Porter?’ he asked. Kelly nodded, held out her hand and introduced Emma. Dominic Cairns, it appeared, had similar taste to Zachary Fitzgerald, as he couldn’t stop staring at the pretty young woman. Kelly watched in amusement as Emma returned his gaze and he looked away.
The kitchen was ordinary and small. A loaf of bread and a bread knife sat on the counter, as well as jam and cream. Dominic folded his arms. ‘I’ll just get a towel,’ he said.
‘Been for a swim?’ Kelly asked.
‘I’m training for my first Ironman.’
‘Well, you’ve got much in common with my colleague, then,’ Kelly said, looking at Emma, who smiled pleasantly but didn’t say anything. Dominic raised his eyebrows and disappeared, coming back rubbing himself with a blue towel.
‘Mum said to expect you. I didn’t know the earl, by the way, I wasn’t allowed up to “the big house” much. He didn’t like commoners – apart from those who worked for him, of course.’
His smile was wide and mocking as he used his fingers to indicate speech marks in the air. It was incredibly disrespectful and Kelly noted with interest that he emphasised the word ‘commoners’ with disdain.
‘So when did you go to Wasdale Hall?’
They watched as Dominic continued to dry himself casually. He seemed to enjoy his spectators.
‘I hung out with Zac a bit, I was allowed in the garden and the kitchen. I haven’t been there for years, though. The earl was a rude old bastard – excuse me. I don’t know why Mum put up with him.’
‘So when exactly were you there last?’
Dominic stopped rubbing. He turned his back to them and carved a slice of bread. The muscles along his naked back rippled. He was deeply tanned. A scratch, perhaps two inches long, marked his otherwise perfect skin from his scapula to his armpit.
‘Oh, I’d say about six months ago.’
‘Do you work, Dominic?’
‘Nope. Work’s for losers. I’ve got better things to do.’ He dolloped jam onto the bread.
Kelly clenched her fists. His arrogance was startling but not grounds for arrest. She let it go.
‘So you’re supported by your mother?’
Dominic put the jam spoon down and picked up another, plunging it into the cream. He took a bite of the laden bread and turned around, chewing.
‘You could put it like that.’
‘How do you get along with Brian?’
He snorted. ‘We leave each other alone. He fucks my mother when he thinks I’m out.’
‘What’s the scratch on your back?’
‘No idea. Bush when I was swimming. Dunno.’ He continued to chew.
‘Where were you last Sunday evening?’
Dominic now used the towel on his head. ‘I was at a party in Kendal, with friends.’
‘Can we take the names of those friends, for verification?’
‘Sure.’ He read them out as Emma scribbled. He supplied phone numbers as well.
‘Thank you for your time. We’ll be in touch.’
They went towards the door and Dominic made no effort to assist, so they let themselves out.
‘Twat,’ said Kelly. Emma nodded. They put their sunglasses on and got back into Kelly’s car.
Chapter 23
Linda walked out into the sunshine and stared towards the lake. She hoped that her son was being polite to the police officers.
Fat chance.
She shook her head and her mind wandered back to a memory long hidden in the recesses of her brain. She’d left through the back door then too, looking for the boys. It must have been a good fifteen or sixteen years ago, because Zac was a mere toddler. She closed her eyes.
* * *
Dominic had taken little Zac down to the lake, and they were late. The earl had instructed that Zac needed to be ready for their fishing trip at 9 a.m. sharp. It was now 8.42 and she couldn
’t see the boys. She left the pots in the Belfast sink and wiped her hands on her apron. Brian had been tasked with getting the boat ready; the engine had needed servicing and he’d taken it to the jetty to test the motor. Dominic had been told firmly that they were only to play for twenty minutes after breakfast, but he never listened.
She slammed the back door and headed towards the lake. Her sandals crunched on the gravel and she peered left and right, half expecting them to be hiding in the rhododendrons.
‘Dominic! Zachary!’ she shouted again. She still couldn’t see them.
Everybody was on edge. The earl had only left his room once since the news, and that was to take his grandson fishing. Zachary was only three years old, but the earl treated him as a son. After all, they only had each other now. Her head filled with regrets and unwelcome thoughts. What a mess! The day that Delilah had left, taking Trinity with her, was bad enough; now Oliver was dead.
The vision of Oliver’s coffin, covered in lilies – her own choice – sitting at the altar before it disappeared behind the curtain, never left her. The earl hadn’t attended, damning his only son to the flames of the crematorium without a final word. Only she and Brian had accompanied Oliver on his final journey, sitting in an empty chapel listening to the vicar’s empty words of commiseration. She’d since taken to watching young Zachary like a hawk, and him disappearing for a minute more than was expected drove needles into her stomach.
Her stroll turned to a jog as she headed to the shore of the lake.
The family had fallen apart and Linda couldn’t recall when it had begun to unravel. She could make no sense of it. Only two years ago, Wasdale Hall still echoed with constant music and chatter, brought to it by the particular tastes of Delilah Mahler. Her favourite was Motown. Linda cleaned, polished, cooked and rocked cradles to the background of Smokey Robinson and Marvin Gaye.
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