He looked across at the Padre who seemed to be recovering from the initial shock and at Crane’s silent plea he walked forward, taking Julie and sitting her back down in the chair. The Padre indicated with his head that Bob Wainwright should come and comfort his wife.
Bob moved to squat by Julie’s chair and clumsily put his arm around her. Looking at the two men standing above him he said, “Would someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?”
How on earth do I explain this one, thought Crane and took a moment to crystallise his thoughts before saying, “I’m so sorry, but it looks like Tyler is nothing more than a reborn doll.”
“A what?” the Padre asked.
“A doll?” Wainwright said at the same time.
“A reborn doll,” said Crane. “It’s a doll that is made to look as human as possible. They can be battery powered to give the impression of breathing, they can also have a pre-recorded chip inside them so they cry and some even move their hands to grab your finger,” he explained.
“That’s gross,” said Wainwright. “But if this is a doll, then where the hell is Tyler?”
Crane didn’t want to answer that question, but it looked like Bob got the general idea from his silence.
“Jesus Christ,” Wainwright said and turned once again to his wife.
***
Kim led Kerry away from the closed office door which had subdued the noise of Julie Wainwright’s screams.
“Is Julie alright?” Kerry asked her, trying to turn and go back into the Padre’s office.
Kim held her tightly by the elbow and kept moving away from the door. “Yes, I’m sure Julie’s just fine. Anyway there are three men in there to help her if she needs it.”
“Only, it’s just that she may be a bit startled when she sees Tyler.”
Kim stopped walking. “Why would she be startled, Kerry? What’s wrong with Tyler?”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong with her, it’s just that she’s been reborn.”
“Reborn?” Kim started marching Kerry through the corridor towards the body of the church again, eager to get rid of this mad woman into the custody of Billy and Jones. “What does reborn mean?”
“Well, because Tyler died, I had to replace her with a reborn. You know what I mean, don’t you? You buy them off the internet.”
“Internet?” asked Kim weakly, unable to stop a look of abject horror crossing her face.
“Yes, some of the sites are ever so good. Anyways I trawled through them all until I found Tyler. I knew she’d be waiting for me somewhere on there. I bet you’re impressed that I found her amongst all those dolls, aren’t you?”
Kerry’s proud smile was more than Kim could bear.
“Julie will be fine about it in the end. Just you see,” Kerry prattled on. “Because Tyler’s much better behaved now you know. She breathes and cries a bit and sucks her dummy. But she doesn’t scream anymore, or throw up her dinner, or crawl all over the flat and get under my feet. Yes, I’m sure Julie will be happier with the reborn Tyler than with the other one.”
Kerry smiled happily at Billy and Jones as they approached them and said, “Are you taking me to see Molly’s grave now? The Padre said someone would.”
“Yes, that’s right, love,” Jones agreed, as if he understood what Kerry was talking about. “Just come with us, we’ll go in the car as it’s quite a way down to the cemetery.”
As Jones turned away, leading Kerry out of the church, Kim told Billy the horrendous news.
***
“So what happens now?” Wainwright asked Crane.
“The Padre is ringing for a doctor, for your wife. Once he’s been I’ll get him and Kim to take her home and make sure someone stays with her. Does she have a particular friend?”
“Well I suppose if anyone its Linda from next door. She’s probably your best bet. Can’t stand the woman myself, but Julie seems to get on with her right enough,” Wainwright shrugged his shoulders.
“As for you,” Crane said, “you’re coming back with me to Provost Barracks.”
Bob nodded. “I rather thought I was.”
Julie stirred in her chair. “Provost Barracks? Who’s going to Provost Barracks?”
“Your husband is, I’m afraid, Julie.”
“Why,” she struggled to stand up. “Does he have to make a statement or something?”
“Yes, he needs to make a statement.”
She turned to Bob, “You’ll come back home afterwards, though, won’t you? Don’t leave me alone tonight, Bob.”
“I’m afraid Bob won’t be coming home tonight, Julie,” Crane said. “In fact he won’t be going anywhere for quite a few years, I’d say.”
“You’re not... years… Bob, what the hell is he talking about?”
Bob Wainwright swallowed, but couldn’t seem to get the words out, so Crane said them for him. “Because he’s been smuggling, Julie. Working with someone in Afghanistan. Smuggling drugs that arrived a couple of weeks ago, but he hasn’t had chance to pass them along yet, because of the incident with Tyler.”
“Oh, so you know about that then,” she said flatly.
“We’ll need to interview you as well, but that can wait until tomorrow.”
Turning to Wainwright, he arrested and cautioned him, whilst Julie stood looking on, alternating her gaze between the broken doll on the floor that had been her daughter and the broken man in front of her that had been her husband.
After Crane finished speaking she asked her husband, “Why did you do it, Bob? Why did you betray the Army you love by using it to smuggle heroin?”
Crane wasn’t surprised when Bob said, “I’ve never felt that way about the Army, you silly cow. I just faked it. The higher up the ranks I went the more opportunities for smuggling and selling stuff on the black market presented themselves. That what I liked about the Army.”
“But I believed in it, Bob, believed in the honour and the way of life and the regiment - all of it!”
He laughed and replied, “Well more fool you, then,” as Crane handcuffed him and led him away. As they walked through the corridor he could hear Julie Wainwright shouting, “Come back! You heartless bastard, Crane! How can you arrest my husband and take him away when I’ve just found out Tyler is dead!”
As her screams echoed around the vaulted ceiling and bounced off the cold hard stone, Crane hoped the doctor would arrive soon.
39
Crane and Anderson stood outside the front door of Kerry’s flat.
“Ready?” Anderson asked Crane.
“Not really. But we’d better get on with it.”
Anderson pulled Kerry’s keys out of his pocket and worked the mostly likely key into the lock. The lock clicked open as he turned the key and he then pushed the door open with his gloved hand.
“So, you think Tyler could be in the flat?”
“I hope so,” Anderson replied. “We’ve not had any other reports of a very young child being left anywhere in the region, dead or alive.”
Crane followed the policeman into the flat, their overshoes rustling against the meagre carpet. “You’ve not been here before, have you?” Crane asked him.
“No.” Looking around Anderson then said, “It doesn’t look like I’ve missed much. Not exactly out of House and Homes is it?”
The two men looked around the sad living space. The tatty furniture matched the tatty carpets. The black smudged damp walls were doing a good job of repelling the wallpaper. It was tidy enough, but because of the age of the furniture and bad décor, it was one of those places that would always look dirty. There were very few places in the small room that a body could have been hidden in, but they looked anyway.
“It doesn’t smell as though there’s a body in the apartment,” Crane said. At Anderson’s glare he finished, “Sorry, but there would be a strong smell of decomposition.”
“Yes, I know. Let’s try the kitchen. The fridge or something.”
Crane wasn’t enjoying this any more than Anderson
was. The place was giving him the creeps. He followed Anderson into the small kitchen, made smaller by the chest freezer poking out of the small utility area. Both men looked at it.
“Well?” Crane asked.
“I think so, don’t you?”
At Crane’s nod, Anderson walked over and lifted the lid. Crane followed and looked over Anderson’s shoulder. But he knew Tyler was in there before he saw the body, for he had seen the slump of Anderson’s shoulders and the bowing of his head.
Tyler was lying on top of the bags of vegetables, in one of the baskets. Frozen solid. Wrapped in an icy blanket. The most poignant thing, Crane thought, was the frost on her eye lashes.
They were interrupted by banging on the front door.
“That’ll be Scene of Crime,” Anderson said and turned away to let them in. Crane stood looking at the tiny body for a few more moments. His thoughts were a maelstrom. Thoughts of Kerry, who seemed to have been spiralling into madness ever since her husband was killed and who had now been Sectioned under The Mental Health Act and was being looked after in hospital. He thought about Julie who had lost her daughter and husband, just as Kerry had, but under very different circumstances. In the mix were the deaths of two innocent children. Molly from cot death and Tyler from what? Well the post mortem would answer that question. Would determine if they would charge Kerry with murder, or just abduction.
As for Wainwright, he would be charged with smuggling Class A drugs at the very least and Crane was sure he could add a few more charges of his own to the list. Josip Anic would be charged with whatever Anderson could dream up and then make stick. He would have to talk to Derek about Julie Wainwright. They would have to decide if they would charge her with perverting the cause of justice, for not telling them about the drugs, which she clearly knew Bob had stored in their garage.
“Ready to go, Crane?” Anderson called from the doorway. “The techies need us to vacate so they can get on with collecting their forensic evidence.”
Crane turned to face his friend. “Yes,” he nodded. “I need to get out of here.”
As they walked out onto the balcony, Crane took a deep breath of air, but then wished he hadn’t as the pungent smell of urine was pulled into his lungs, making him cough.
“At least Julie Wainwright will have a child to bury,” he said to Anderson when he recovered.
“Once everything’s sorted out.”
“Yes, once everything’s sorted out,” Crane agreed.
As they walked away Anderson asked, “Did you notice a smell in the living room as we walked back through it just now.”
“A smell? The only thing I can smell is the stench of pee on this balcony. Is that what you mean?”
“No, that’s not it. Does Kerry smoke, do you know?”
“No, I don’t think so. Why?”
“Because I’m sure I got a whiff of smoke as I passed the armchair.”
40
“So what’s with these reborn dolls?” Draper asked Crane as they finished their debriefing. “They’re not something I’ve come across before.”
“Me neither, boss,” said Crane. “They’re a bit bloody creepy I can tell you.”
“You’re right there. But there must be some sort of physiological reason for someone like Kerry to use them.”
Crane settled himself more comfortably in his chair opposite Draper’s desk. “From what I can understand, the reality is that people often face sorrowful issues in their lives. In many cases, they use denial to cope with that loss and the resulting anxiety. And some are unfortunate enough to have lost a child - one of the most devastating things that can happen in anyone’s life. It’s a case of what the mind does when faced with such a void.”
“Oh, you mean Kerry refused to accept that her daughter was dead?”
“Something along those lines, boss. Denial is one of the most prominent defence mechanisms. It’s not that most of these doll-owners think the doll is a real baby, but it affords them moments when they are comforted and can pretend to themselves and to the world, that they do have a real baby. According to the doctors, it provides moments of relief and reprieve, when they can escape the stark reality of their loss. An opportunity for them to have those familiar feelings of cuddling a baby, cooing over it, and all those other nice moments, that temporarily undo the harsh reality. We think Kerry grew too attached to her doll babies, indicating her grief was not actually getting resolved. One of the risks of having this kind of doll is that it can become too literal, too concrete to the women. That’s when we think Kerry started to think the dolls were real.
“Didn’t she keep saying that the dolls were better than the real babies?”
“Yes. She told Kim she thought Julie would prefer the new reborn Tyler, for unlike a real baby, a lifelike doll comes with no real-world mess. No nappies, no smells, no feeding, no crying. These babies, unlike real ones, don’t grow up into toddlers. And as soon as the child becomes a toddler, there’s a whole different dynamic. A creature growing, changing and moving toward independence. It will, clearly, need the mother less and less. Intertwined with a doll baby is the knowledge it will never grow up, never leave you, never disappoint you, never say ‘I hate you!’”
“Jesus Christ!” said Draper. After a moment’s thought he said, “I suppose that if a woman walks around with a baby - or a doll that looks like a baby - everyone stops to admire it. So having one produces positive attention, like when you are dressed up and people admire you. For a woman who is struggling to feel good about herself, the baby provides reassurances. Especially for a woman in Kerry’s position, who had lost not only her husband, but her child. I guess for a confused and bruised mind, she saw the doll as a way back into the normal world.”
“That’s right, boss. There are many ways a person can cope with loss, sadness and anxiety, and these reborn dolls offer one solution. Unfortunately, Kerry’s relationship with the reborn dolls grew into an unreasonable obsession.
“I guess she’s staying in hospital?”
“Yes, mental health treatment is absolutely necessary, the doctors have said. Kerry’s depression spiralled into a dependency on nurturing something that’s not living. She’s going to need years of treatment to help her out of the obsession she’s become buried in.”
41
The Padre put his hand on his coffee mug and lifted it to his lips without looking at it. He realised too late, as he went to take a sip, that it was cold. Spluttering and grimacing, he looked away from the computer screen that he had been transfixed on, where he had been reviewing his report on the welfare case of Bob and Julie Wainwright.
He put his mug down with a sigh and wiped his lips with a tissue grabbed from the box on his desk. The sigh was for many things, for he wasn’t feeling at his most upbeat that morning. Writing the report had brought back all the horrors of his time with the Wainwrights whilst everyone was looking for their baby. And then the time he spent with Kerry in his office at the church, while they were waiting for the Wainwrights to come and collect baby Tyler.
He’d never encountered someone with such a clear severe mental problem before and his heart went out to Kerry as much as Julie Wainwright. However, he wasn’t sure he had much sympathy for Bob Wainwright, who was now incarcerated in the military prison at Colchester.
He prised himself from his comfy leather chair to go and get some more coffee, when Kim walked in, a steaming mug in her hand.
“Thought you might need more caffeine,” she said. “You know, to help with writing the report.”
Francis sat back down and gratefully took the coffee from Kim.
“How’s it going? Or do you want to be left alone?”
“Not well and no I don’t,” he said answering her two questions. “Can you sit for a minute?”
Kim nodded and sat opposite him, the large desk somehow symbolising the yawning gap between them, not just physically, but also mentally and Francis was immediately aware of his other problem. Kim.
“It�
��s just that it’s brought it all back, writing this report,” he said.
“I know, it must be awful for you to have to re-live it again,” she said, smiling, but in sympathy more than anything.
“It’s, um, not just them. Kerry, Tyler, Julie and Bob,” he indicated his screen. “It’s, um, you, or should I say, us, as well.”
“What?” Kim’s surprise seemed genuine. “Francis, what on earth are you talking about?”
“Well, you know that I wondered if being involved with the investigation would make you miss being in the Branch. Make you homesick for the office, somehow.”
“Yes, I remember you asking.”
“And I remember you not replying.”
Kim sat there, looking at him coolly. Her expression wasn’t uncompassionate, but she was, well, just there. Waiting for him to speak. Not fidgeting or looking bored. Just waiting, with interest, for him to speak again.”
“See, you’re doing it now,” he said.
She smiled. “Doing what?”
“Not answering the question and waiting to hear what I say next. It’s not a bad thing, don’t get me wrong. It’s just this knack you have. You’re a very good listener.”
“Sorry, I don’t mean to upset you,” she said. “I’m just not sure what you think is wrong.”
Francis decided to go for it. After all, he had nothing to lose. So he took a deep breath and said, “I think you’re bored. Or you’re going to get bored. It was fine when you were needed to help support Julie Wainwright and when you were helping Crane. But now that’s all over and I’m just worried that you won’t know what to do with yourself and you’ll begin to wish you’d never married me and…” His voice trailed away.
A Soldier's Honour Box Set 2 (Sgt Major Crane crime thrillers Box Set) Page 41
