by Kate Ellis
The constable looked at his companion and grinned. Resisting arrest. They’d enjoy this one. They told the hunched creature in the van that he was under arrest and recited the words of the caution before dragging him out and bundling his limp body into the patrol car, leaving the long blond wig on the passenger seat like some decaying animal.
‘They’ve got him.’ There was no satisfaction in Emily Thwaite’s voice, only worry. ‘They’re bringing him in.’
‘And Carmel?’
Emily shook her head. ‘He’s refusing to say where she is. We’ve got to talk to him.’
Joe knew she was right. With considerable effort he’d fought the impulse to stay at the scene to help with the search and headed back to the station. Every available officer was searching the area so they’d be more use trying to get the truth out of the Resurrection Man.
Once the duty solicitor had been called, they made their way to the interview suite. The incident room was buzzing with an almost party atmosphere. But there was a tension behind it. The girl was still missing. Emily found herself making the pessimistic assumption that Carmel Hennessy was already dead. Joe Plantagenet, on the other hand, hadn’t given up hope but he knew that the sooner they persuaded Thewlis to talk, the more chance she had.
Tim Thewlis looked rather pathetic as he sat slumped on the hard plastic seat. He had blank, closed-down eyes which stared ahead, ignoring the tall, grey-suited solicitor by his side.
Joe sat down and switched on the tape. Emily sat beside him, making eye contact with the prisoner. But he averted his gaze. He wasn’t playing that game.
‘Where’s Carmel Hennessy?’
Thewlis looked up. ‘I know who you are,’ he said.
Joe leaned forward. ‘Who are we?’
‘Enemies.’
‘Whose enemies?’
Thewlis raised a finger to his lips, smiled, and shook his head.
‘We’ve seen the instructions the Seeker gave you. Did he tell you where to take Carmel?’
The smile disappeared from the prisoner’s lips.
‘Your mother said the instructions weren’t in your handwriting. Is that true?’
No answer.
‘We can easily find out.’
Again silence.
‘If you didn’t write them, who did? Who gave you the names of the victims?’
Thewlis pressed his lips together tightly. He knew the Seeker was a man of influence and considerable intelligence. A man in touch with higher things. He had chosen him specially to do his work. To purge the world of the infection of evil. He had hinted as much last time they met. The Seeker trusted him and he wouldn’t betray that trust.
‘That tattoo on your arm … Did you used to go to the Black Hen?’ Joe leaned forward. ‘You killed Terry Jevons, didn’t you? He called himself the Master.’
Thewlis nodded vigorously. ‘I had to kill him.’
‘Why?’
‘He was evil.’
Joe tilted his head to one side. ‘I’ll ask you again, Tim. Where’s the girl you abducted? Where have you taken her?’
Emily nudged his arm. They were getting nowhere. She decided on another approach. ‘Who gives you the names, Tim? Or are you the Seeker? Do you decide who’s going to die?’
Tim looked at her and frowned. ‘No. He gives me the names.’ The matter-of-fact way he said the words made Emily shudder.
‘Who gives you the names, Tim?’
A sly grin.
‘Does he know where you take them?’
‘Of course he does. He gave me the key.’
Joe and Emily looked at each other and a few seconds later Joe left the room, breaking into a run as he made for the custody suite. If there was a key it might be among the prisoner’s possessions. If.
As it turned out there were several keys amongst Tim Thewlis’s belongings. House keys, keys to the white van. And another. A large, iron key, slightly rusty. Probably Victorian. A key to somewhere old. Joe stared at it for a while, imagining what sort of place would still use such a key. A church perhaps – although nowadays most churches – in fact most ancient buildings still in daily use – would have added something more modern to secure their premises.
He returned to the interview room and placed the key on the table in front of Thewlis. ‘Is this the key?’ he asked casually.
There was a flash of recognition followed by a long silence and Joe knew he’d got it right.
‘Tell us where Carmel is.’
‘If I tell you, he’ll take my soul.’
‘Who will?’
Silence.
‘Does the key belong to the Seeker?’ Emily asked.
The answer was a nod.
‘So he tells you where to take them? Somewhere that belongs to him? Where is it, Tim?
Tim Thewlis pressed his lips together like a stubborn child. ‘I’ll never tell. You can’t make me.’
Emily realised that they were getting nowhere. She needed to change tack again.
‘Where does he give you your instructions? At work? At Kathwell’s?’
Tim shook his head.
‘Does he send them to your house?’
Another no.
‘Is there a pub you go to?’
Tim shook his head vigorously.
‘Where else do you go regularly?’ Joe thought for a few moments. ‘The hospital?’
Tim looked wary and shook his head again but there had been a flash of recognition, almost of alarm, in his eyes that told Joe he’d hit the target.
Joe leaned forward. ‘Does he work at the hospital or is he one of the patients?’ he asked.
Thewlis hesitated then shook his head. ‘I don’t know.’
Emily produced the sheets of paper with the victims’ names and addresses on from a folder in front of her and lay them out on the table. ‘These were found in your house. Are these the names he gave you?’
Thewlis looked at them and nodded.
‘You say he gives them to you?’
‘He leaves them for me.’
‘Who is it, Tim? Who leaves them for you?’
Thewlis shut his mouth tightly. They weren’t going to catch him out so easily.
‘Is it Dr Oakley?’
Joe looked at her. She had put into words what they were both thinking. Thewlis’s eyes widened in alarm and they knew they had hit the target.
‘Where did you take Carmel Hennessy, Tim?’
He looked at his solicitor and grinned. ‘No comment,’ he said before bursting into laughter. They had no evidence. He was winning … him and the Seeker.
Emily stood up and Joe followed her out of the room, his fists clenched with frustration. They were running out of time.
‘We’ve got to bring Oakley in,’ he said once they were out of earshot. ‘I reckon he’s been using Tim Thewlis to do his dirty work. Putting it into his poor addled head that these people have to die for some reason.’
Emily looked sceptical. ‘Tim’s a paranoid schizophrenic. Surely he doesn’t need anyone controlling him to give him ideas like that.’
‘No, this is organised. The names and addresses.’
‘Maybe Tim wrote them himself. Maybe it’s all in his head.’
‘His mother swears it’s not his writing … and we’re just waiting for Forensic to confirm it. Someone else is in on this, Emily. Shouldn’t he be taking medication to control his schizophrenia? He sees Oakley regularly. His mother makes sure he keeps his appointments. But if Oakley’s giving him placebos so he’s still …’
Emily nodded. She had to acknowledge that Joe had a point. But they still had to find Carmel Hennessy. ‘He’s not going to talk, is he?’ she said quietly.
Joe shook his head. ‘I reckon our best hope is getting to Oakley. If we’re right, he knows where Tim’s taken Carmel. We’ve got to find her, Emily. I don’t care what it takes but …’
‘OK,’ she said. ‘We’ll bring Oakley in for questioning. But I can’t think what he could possibly have against Carmel
Hennessy. Have you told her mother yet?’
Joe shook his head.
‘Tell you what, I’ll do it.’
Joe shook his head again. ‘No, it should be me. I’m the one who’s supposed to be keeping an eye on her.’
Emily put her face close to his. ‘She’s a grown woman, Joe. You couldn’t watch her twenty-four hours a day …’
He knew she was right but somehow it didn’t make him feel any better.
Suddenly the door burst open. DC Jamilla Dal was in a hurry, her eyes aglow with untold news. She’d run all the way down the stairs from the incident room and she stopped to catch her breath for a few seconds. This was important.
She addressed Joe. ‘You know that thing you asked me to check on, sir. Well, it’s taken a while but I’ve just found something that could be important. A link between the victims.’
‘Go on,’ Emily said impatiently. She really didn’t have time for this now.
‘That person Harold Uckley ran over … remember? It was a little girl called Imogen Hale. I did some digging and I found out that her father owned a travel agent’s in Sheepgate – the one Carla Yates used to work at.’
She had Joe’s full attention. ‘Peter Hale. He left his wife for Carla Yates.’
‘Well, as you know, I looked for Peter Hale’s widow – Imogen Hale’s mother – in the electoral register,’ Jamilla continued. ‘But I couldn’t find her. Then I thought of seeing if she’d married again but there was no record so I presumed she’d left the area. Then I had the idea of checking on her maiden name.’
‘Which is?’
When Jamilla said the name, Joe knew it sounded familiar. But it wasn’t until he’d spent a few moments dredging his memory that he realised why. He experienced a strong temptation to hug Jamilla for bringing the news that had made everything fall into place. But he thought better of it. Rumours started so easily in police stations.
Emily frowned. ‘Is this going to help us find Carmel Hennessy?’
‘If Tim won’t tell us where she is, our best bet is to find the person who’s controlling him, who thought all this up. I’ve just got to make a phone call … check something out.’ He picked up the phone and made a short, hurried call. When he put the receiver down, he looked up. ‘We’re off to the hospital.’
‘Yes. It is about time we had a word with Dr Oakley,’ Emily said, puzzled by the bitter smile on Joe’s lips. ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’
‘I’ll tell you on the way,’ said Joe, making for the door.
Carmel felt hot as she made the effort to breath, to stay alive. She could feel the sweat on her body and her arms, secured behind her back, hurt. She knew she shouldn’t cry or shout out – the slightest effort would only use up precious oxygen.
She had to conserve energy. She had to live.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Emily strode into the office first, a look of fierce determination on her face. Joe walked slightly behind her.
‘Is he expecting you?’ Dr Oakley’s secretary looked up at the newcomers and inclined her head politely. ‘He’s in with a patient at the moment, and I don’t like to disturb him.’
Emily stepped forward. There was no time for niceties. There was a young woman somewhere, dying or possibly dead already. ‘Elizabeth Anne Hale?’
‘No, my surname’s Peace.’
‘That’s the name you use now but Hale was your married name, wasn’t it?’
‘I decided to use my maiden name again when my husband left me. Why do you ask?’ She sounded wary. As though she had something to hide.
‘You had a daughter called Imogen. She was killed in a car accident.’
She lowered her eyes. ‘Yes,’ she said in a whisper.
‘A man called Harold Uckley was driving the car. And your husband left you for a woman called Carla Yates.’
‘How do you …?’
‘I expect you’re familiar with the conditions of Dr Oakley’s patients.’
She looked uneasy. ‘Not really. I …’
‘You needed someone who’d be suggestible, someone you could manipulate to do exactly what you wanted. When you found a paranoid schizophrenic who’d become involved in what was going on at the Black Hen and wanted out because he was terrified, I bet you couldn’t believe your luck. You knew from the taped interviews he’d had with Dr Oakley that he imagined himself to be in danger from a man who called himself the Master and from then on it was a piece of cake. You left messages from a supposed agent of good who opposed “the Master”. You called your creation “the Seeker”. Rather corny but it worked. You gave him messages suggesting the Master’s agents were after him and it was his duty to destroy them or they would destroy him. Did you make sure he didn’t take the drugs he was prescribed? Did you take the prescriptions off him and give him placebos instead?’
Emily waited for an answer but when none came, Joe took over.
‘As far as you were concerned, Uckley got away with killing your daughter, didn’t he? He never paid for what he did. Then someone told you they’d seen Carla Yates out on the town having a good time. She’d destroyed your marriage … took your husband. If it hadn’t been for her and all the stress she caused, he’d be alive today.’
He saw that tears were welling up in Elizabeth’s eyes.
‘You made them pay, didn’t you? It took a while but you had your revenge in the end.’
Elizabeth Peace pressed her thin lips together. She wasn’t giving anything away.
‘What about Janna Pyke and Terry Jevons?’ Emily asked, a note of aggression in her voice. She was aware that the clock was ticking for Carmel. She needed answers fast.
It was Joe who spoke. ‘You and Amy’s mother are good friends, aren’t you? I remember you phoned her while I was there.’ He was trying to sound confident but he knew what he was saying was largely guesswork. He watched Elizabeth’s face carefully, looking for some sign that he’d got it right, but he saw nothing. ‘Janna Pyke pretended to be Amy’s friend, didn’t she? But she was only grooming her for … She took her to the Black Hen – and Terry Jevons raped her. You knew all about the Black Hen, didn’t you? You knew it was that place that had tipped Tim over the edge. And you made sure you kept him there. You used him. You took your revenge on these people through him.’
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘You can’t prove any of this. You know you can’t.’
‘What about Carmel Hennessy?’
Elizabeth looked up, puzzled. ‘What about her?’
‘Why did you set Tim on her? What did she do to you?’
‘Absolutely nothing. Why do you ask?’ She suddenly sounded unsure of herself. ‘Carmel lives upstairs from my uncle and I certainly didn’t set Tim on her, as you put it. Why on earth should I? She’s a nice girl. It just proves you’re talking nonsense.’
‘So why has he abducted her?’
Joe and Emily could tell that the shock on Elizabeth’s face was genuine. ‘That’s ridiculous. He can’t have. You’re lying.’
‘It’s true,’ said Emily leaning forward until her face was close to Elizabeth’s. ‘Tim’s abducted her … taken her somewhere. Now where is she? If she’s still alive, she won’t have long.’
Elizabeth shook her head. ‘I told you, I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Her hand suddenly went to her mouth and her eyes bulged with terrible realisation as if she’d just glimpsed a vision of hell.
‘What is it?’
She shook her head.
‘You’d better tell us. If Carmel dies …’
Elizabeth was silent for a few seconds, trying desperately to regain control of herself. Then she took a deep shuddering breath as though she’d reached a decision. ‘Carmel rang the other day. My uncle was taken ill and one of the other secretaries wrote her name and the address on a piece of … Tim was there that day for an appointment. If he …’
Joe interrupted. ‘You wrote Tim’s instructions down and left them for him when he came out of Dr Oakley’s office. I
s that how you communicated with him?’
One look at Elizabeth’s face told him he was getting near the truth. ‘Then someone handed you a sheet with Carmel’s name and address on it and your mind was on your uncle. If you left it in the office and Tim picked it up …’
‘I don’t know. I …’ Elizabeth’s face was frozen between horror and self-pity. Joe knew he was right.
‘We’ve questioned Tim and he’s refusing to say where she is. Where is she, Elizabeth? Where does he take them?’
Emily stepped forward. ‘Where the hell is she?’ she shouted, making the woman flinch. This was no time for good manners.
Elizabeth began to wring her hands. ‘It’s not my fault. I never meant …’
‘There’s a girl out there dying. Tell us where she is.’
Elizabeth looked up at Emily, who was descending on her like a fury. ‘OK. I’ll tell you. My mother was a Gosson. They were an important family in this town once and they had a mausoleum in Briargate Cemetery. When … when it started, I left the instructions in the pocket of Tim’s jacket – he always took his jacket off and left it in here, you see. I explained about the evil people who had to be destroyed. Later on I left him an envelope containing the key to the mausoleum and instructions about what to do – I told him to destroy the instructions in case anyone found them. The key had been passed down to me, you see.’ She sniffed and raised her head. ‘My mother was very proud of her family.’
‘Never mind that,’ Joe snapped, making the woman jump. ‘How do we get there?’ They were wasting time.
Suddenly the reality of the situation seemed to dawn on Elizabeth and she told them, meekly, repeating almost after every sentence how sorry she was. But Joe had no time for her contrition. Ignoring the hospital’s ban on mobile phones, he made the calls that would send patrol cars and an ambulance round to the Gosson Mausoleum, remembering to tell Sunny to take the old iron key with him. He’d need it.
