by Celina Grace
Kate hated the thought of her colleagues discussing her. “It’s just—” She broke off, feeling her heart thump a little faster. Should she tell? She hadn’t even discussed the possibility with Anderton. What would he say? She looked at Olbeck’s dear, familiar face and felt a surge of guilt and affection mixed together. All of a sudden, the secret seemed too much to bear. I can’t keep on lying, it isn’t in me…
“It’s—”
Olbeck looked at her, a tiny touch of concern spreading over the receptive expression on his face.
“It’s—” said Kate again, feeling as if she were about to dive off the edge of a high cliff into uncertain waters beneath.
“Come on, spit it out. It can’t be that bad.”
“It’s Anderton,” Kate said in a whisper and looked down at her lap, unable to meet her friend’s eyes.
There was a dreadful moment of silence. Then Olbeck laughed. “It’s who?”
“Anderton,” said Kate, though the rush of blood thumping in her head. “Anderton and I, we’re – we’re seeing each other.”
Olbeck looked at her for a moment, a laugh still on his face. Then his smile cooled and died as the truth of what she was saying sank in. “Anderton? You’re shagging Anderton?”
“It’s not just shagging—” began Kate, wondering whether that were true, but Olbeck stood up so abruptly that she shrank into the back of the sofa.
“I can’t believe it,” he said, and the stubble on his chin stood out stark and black against the sudden pallor of his face. “You and Anderton? Since when?”
“A few – a few months now. A couple of months,” faltered Kate.
Olbeck stood for a moment, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. “You and him? And you didn’t tell me?”
“I didn’t – I thought – I wasn’t—”
“I don’t believe it,” said Olbeck, in the tones of someone who very much did but didn’t want to. “I just can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
“Mark—” But that was the only word that Kate got out before Olbeck swept from the room, before she could say any more. She heard the slam of her front door and then his angry footsteps on the path outside, but she couldn’t move. Instead, she dropped her head against the back of the sofa and wept.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Kate had never approached the office with more dread. The next morning, she felt her footsteps slowing as she approached the door and stopped, realising she was actually shaking. She wheeled about and headed for the Ladies, cursing herself for being a coward. She hadn’t spoken to Anderton last night, despite him texting her as she was curled into a ball on her bed, sobbing.
Kate stared at herself in the chipped mirror on the wall of the female toilets. I’ve messed everything up. Her friendship with Olbeck, her relationship with Anderton. Her career as well? She tried digging deep for the usual measure of pride she took in her work but frighteningly, there was nothing. Just a blank numbness. Taking a deep breath, she washed her hands, dried them, and pushed back her hair, trying to get a grip on herself.
The door to the toilets slamming back made her jump. Chloe Wapping came in.
“All right, bird?” she said, amiably and then took a close look. “Kate? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing,” Kate said miserably. “Well, lots, actually, but I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay.” Chloe regarded her in the steady, measuring way that she had. “Well – if you ever want a chat, you know where I am.”
“Thanks.” Kate tried to sound grateful, because she was. She grimaced a smile at her friend and then headed for the door.
She strode into the office, determined now not to falter. When she saw Olbeck was not in his office, she almost did, falling into her chair as her knees went weak with relief. Shakily, she turned on her computer and tried to gather her thoughts. Deep breaths, Kate.
“Hey, Theo,” she called, when she could be sure her voice was steady enough. “Is Mark coming in today?”
“Dunno, mate.” Theo was frowning over a pile of paperwork and Kate didn’t think he was really listening to her.
She sighed and returned to her own work. Then she looked up again. “Do we have an ID on the third body yet?”
Now Theo did look up. “Yes, mate, we have. Rhys Colin Neal, twenty-two, born in Northampton. His mother identified him.”
“Oh, God. Oh well, I suppose that’s good that we know who he is. When’s the post mortem?”
“Dunno. This afternoon, I think. Why, did you want to do it?”
Kate had been going to say no (when did she ever want to do a post mortem?) but she quickly realised it would be a way to get out of the office. Coward. You’re going to have to face him – both of them – sooner or later.
“I’m not sure,” she said, slowly. Then thinking that Theo was looking at her rather strangely, she quickly added, “I’m snowed under at the moment, that’s all.”
“Aren’t we all, mate? Aren’t we all?” Theo sighed and returned his attention to his paperwork.
Kate swung back to face her computer. She was aware of Chloe sitting down opposite her and giving her a keen glance. She returned it, smiled, and shook her head very slightly. Chloe nodded, understanding her.
Kate worked on, trying to concentrate. After a fruitless twenty minutes of poring over witness statements, she shoved her chair back from the desk and stood up. “Is Anderton still interviewing?” she asked Chloe.
“I think so. It’s coming up to the end of the extension, though.” Chloe looked grim. “We’re probably going to have to release him, aren’t we?”
Kate balled her fists. “I suppose so. He’ll be under surveillance though, won’t he, if he gets released?”
“Of course. It’s not that—”
“I know. I know what you mean.” Kate sighed and waved a goodbye as she headed for the door.
She’d made up her mind. No more of these horrible secrets. She’d tell Anderton that Olbeck knew – and that he was angry – and if that meant that Anderton was angry with her too, angry enough even to end their relationship, then so be it. At that moment, Kate felt so numb and bruised from the emotional trauma that she was able to face the thought with equanimity. She needed all the focus she could get to try and solve this case and stop a killer, and she was letting herself and the victims down by letting her personal relationships distract her.
She walked down to the interview rooms and found the one where Anderton was still closeted in with Robert Pound and his solicitor. She was raising her hand to knock when she thought about what she was doing. Break Anderton’s concentration now and who knew what might happen? He might be on the verge of getting a confession. Biting her lip, Kate took her hand down. Then she jumped as the door opened.
Anderton emerged, looking exhausted. His face was almost as grey as his hair. “Oh, hello,” he said, sounding unsurprised to find her there. “I was literally just about to come and talk to you.” He shut the interview room door behind him and drew her away, down the corridor.
“How are you getting on?” asked Kate, honestly anxious to know, despite everything.
“Well, he’s not confessing but he is starting to talk. Anyway, that was what I wanted to tell you. Tell the team.”
“Tell us what?”
Anderton rubbed his eyes. “I’ve got about three hours left of the extension. I wanted to try something a bit unorthodox before I have to let him go.”
“We would release him then?” asked Kate in dismay.
“Kate, what we’ve got isn’t enough. Even with the DNA match, that’s still circumstantial. Besides, Pound has admitted that he met Keith Farmer in that pub and that they did leave together. He’s got an explanation for everything, and there’s nothing I can pin him down on. At the moment.”
Kate ground her teeth in frustration. “So, we have to let him
go?”
“Like I said, I’ve got three hours. I’m going to take him back to the graveyards. Put him back at the scene of the crime. See if that brings up anything.”
“I want to come,” Kate said immediately.
Anderton looked as though he was going to refuse, just as immediately. Then he obviously reconsidered and looked at her, musingly. “Well—”
“Please. I want to help.”
“Well…” Anderton rubbed his chin. “I do need back up. But, Kate, I can’t stress this enough, do not talk to him, do not jump in. Let me do it all. I think he trusts me, now. You must stay in the background; I mean that literally as well as metaphorically. Let me walk with him, you stay behind. Okay?”
“Okay,” said Kate, not happy but understanding his point.
“It has to be okay, otherwise I’m not taking you.”
“It’s all right,” said Kate, trying to reassure him. “I do understand. Completely.”
Anderton regarded her for another moment. Then he said, “Good,” briskly and turned and headed back to the interview room. Kate stood where she was, waiting with a stomach tight with anxiety.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Olbeck rested his hands on the steering wheel of his car. He was annoyed to find they were trembling slightly. Nothing’s happened, he told himself. I can still change my mind.
He was parked about three doors down from the house he’d only been to once before. That was when he’d walked Joshua Garton home from the Mermaid pub the other night. They’d had several pints and talked and talked – or rather Olbeck had talked and talked, and Joshua had listened. All the time he had talked, he had looked at Joshua’s handsome face across the table for him and known – known – he was playing a dangerous game. But the more he talked, and the more Joshua listened, the more he found he didn’t care.
He’d heard his mobile phone buzzing in his jacket pocket and known that it was probably Jeff trying to find out where he was. He’d hardened his heart and ignored it. Then he’d offered to walk Joshua home and had walked all the way with his heart thumping, wondering what was going to happen. What he was going to make happen.
They’d said goodbye on the doorstep of Joshua’s house. Olbeck had assumed that he was living with friends, given that he was a student, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Apparently Joshua had inherited the house when his mother died. Olbeck had been surprised to find he was older than he looked, too – almost thirty.
They hadn’t kissed. There had been a moment when Olbeck had thought they would, but instead Joshua had smiled shyly and said goodbye. Olbeck had walked home with his head in a whirl, feeling a nauseous mixture of shame, desire, guilt and anticipation. Then, of course, had come the inevitable row with Jeff, which led to him texting Joshua something that crossed the line. And then it was out there. Olbeck knew it and knew now, watching his hands tremble on the wheel, that this was a decision that could change the course of his life.
Sod it. He got out of the car and slammed the door decisively. I’m only going to say hello, he told himself, knowing he was lying to himself. Don’t I deserve a bit of happiness?
He thrust his hands in the pockets of his jacket and began to walk towards Joshua’s house. It was a small semi-detached house, like so many of the ones around here – post-war, sturdy 1950s red brick with a small porch. Joshua had painted the front door black and black curtains hung in the windows on the front. Olbeck strode up and knocked on the door, rapping the brass knocker.
Joshua took so long to answer that Olbeck thought for a moment that he wasn’t in. He had time to feel a slow slide of disappointment before there was a scratching sound behind the door and it opened to show Joshua’s face. Olbeck, looking keenly for expression, saw a mixture of alarm and surprise, quickly followed by delight. He felt a nauseous surge of desire and excitement.
“Well, hello again.” Joshua stood back to let Olbeck into the house. Olbeck walked in, not saying anything, and Joshua shut the door behind him.
*
It was a cold morning, not quite frosty but with enough bite in the air to need gloves and a scarf. Kate, who didn’t have either, tried not to shiver as she followed Anderton through the gravestones at the churchyard. Robert Pound, handcuffed to a burly uniformed officer, walked slowly by Anderton. Kate, who didn’t normally feel affected by people in that way, found him more and more unnerving. He looked like what they thought he was: a dangerous killer. Luckily for Kate, he had taken no interest in her whatsoever. It was almost as though he didn’t see her. She stared at his hands, one cuffed, one swinging freely, and wondered what he had done.
As they approached the site where Joe Vickers’ body had been found, Anderton shot a warning glance back over his shoulder at Kate. She took that as a signal to hang back a bit, letting Anderton and Pound go forward.
“You can uncuff him,” Anderton said to the accompanying officer, quite casually. Kate’s stomach clenched, and the officer looked uncertain before shrugging and complying. Anderton added, “If you could just wait over there for ten minutes or so, keep an eye on us, that would be great.”
He addressed this remark purely to the officer, not to Kate, so she remained where she was, several feet away from the two other men. Robert Pound stood, rubbing his wrist and staring around him. His face was quite blank. Kate felt a gradually rising sense of unease. Was this actually going to work? Or were they just wasting what little time they had left?
Anderton began to speak, quite gently and casually. Just as if he were asking an acquaintance what he was up to at the weekend, or offering someone a cup of tea. “You know why we’ve come here, Robert, don’t you?”
Some sort of animation sparked in Pound’s blank face. “Yeah,” he said, after a moment.
“You like graveyards, don’t you?”
“Yeah.”
Kate saw Anderton and Pound’s gaze meet. There was an odd sort of connection between them – even Kate could feel it, suddenly holding her breath.
“Do you have anything to tell me, Robert?” asked Anderton, very quietly but still very casually.
Their eyes still held. Robert Pound almost smiled. “Yeah.” He half laughed, and Kate found herself suddenly covered in gooseflesh. She had to fight the urge to run away. Pound put one hand up to his throat, rubbing at the veins.
“You’re good,” he said to Anderton. “You’re good.” His hand dropped from his throat.
Anderton still held his gaze. “What do you have to tell me, Robert? You can talk to me, you know you can.”
Pound smiled. “Yeah, I know.”
“So what is it that you want to say?”
The graveyard was silent, so silent that Kate could hear the harsh cawing of a crow some three fields away.
Pound spoke again, never taking his eyes from Anderton. “There’s another one.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
In the breathless hush that followed Pound’s words, Kate could hear the crow again. Its harsh cawing punctuated the silence like a rasp across wood. It was probably only a few seconds before Anderton spoke, but it felt like longer. Kate could hear the excitement in his voice but only because she knew him so well. He still sounded incredibly calm.
“Another one?” was all he said.
Pound smiled, almost proudly. “Yeah.”
“Another body?” checked Anderton.
Now Pound did laugh. “No, no.” For a moment he looked angry, as if Anderton had let him down. “Another one like me. A sick fucker.”
Kate wondered whether she’d misheard him through the thump of blood in her ears. She held her breath.
“Another one of you?” said Anderton, thinly.
Pound smiled. “Yeah. It’s not just me.” He raised one hand to his neck again, almost as if he were touching himself for comfort. “He’s like me. We work together.”
Kate felt herself
swaying through lack of oxygen. Quickly she sucked in some air, trying to do it quietly so as not to break into the man’s concentration and derail this odd confession.
“That’s very interesting, Robert,” said Anderton. Kate could see the very faint tremble of his hands as he put them behind his back. “So you’ve had a companion? A partner, in all this?”
Pound looked off across the misty fields. The crow had fallen silent. “Yes.” He was silent for a moment and then added, “We met on the dark web. He likes them dead. Me, I like making them dead.”
“That sounds like a good combination,” Anderton said, and such was his tone that Kate almost gasped with hysterical laughter at its casualness. “So, he’s your friend then, this man?”
“A bit more than that,” said Pound. Some unidentifiable emotion crossed his face and Kate thought, careful, careful, don’t scare him off.
Anderton had obviously thought the same thing. He said, quite casually, “So what’s his name, Robert? Can you tell me that?”
Pound was looking off again, his hand dropping from his throat. “He’s called Diabolo. He’s young. Fit.” That odd expression crossed his face once more. “If I’m going down for this, I want him with me.”
“Of course you do. Of course you do.”
Silence fell again. Kate was trembling with the backwash of adrenaline, desperate to do something. But she made herself stand still and silent, knowing that Anderton knew what he was doing. She looked at his face in profile, watching him as he watched Robert Pound and thought, I love him.
The realisation sent another shockwave through her. Immediately, she consciously tried to reject the thought - no I don’t, it’s just infatuation, it’s attraction, that’s all. Fool, said another part of her mind, you do love him. You’ve loved him all along.
To stop herself from thinking, she switched her gaze to look at Robert Pound instead. He was staring off into the misty distance of the hills and fields around them, smiling slightly. That smile chilled Kate, evaporating all of the warm feeling her thoughts about Anderton had engendered. Her gaze dropped to his hands; large, big-knuckled, rough-skinned hands. She almost shivered. What had those hands done?
