by Tom Bale
‘Did you hear all that?’ Nerys asked.
‘Most of it.’ He joined her in the dining room. The patrol car had driven away.
‘Bit of a coincidence, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘A woman reporting a burglary.’
‘Alice, you mean?’
‘If Alice had access to a phone she wouldn’t muck around with a story about a break-in.’ She looked sombre. ‘No, I wonder if it was someone she spoke to earlier.’
‘But why?’
‘No idea. Testing the water in some way.’
‘You could have asked who’d reported it.’
‘I didn’t want to seem too interested.’ She fretted over that. ‘Perhaps I should have, but we can’t worry about that now. Let’s get that body shifted.’
‘Oh my God!’ Michael went pale. ‘A minute or two later and he’d have rolled up just as we were putting Renshaw in the boot.’
Nerys stared at him for a moment, looking as shocked as he was; then, abruptly, she started to laugh.
‘We can count ourselves lucky, then, can’t we?’
Another ten minutes and Nerys was ready to go. Renshaw’s body, bent at the waist, had been placed in the boot. His duffle bag and rucksack were dumped in there as well, and all covered by an old picnic blanket.
Nerys put the bag of money in the front passenger footwell, then locked the Range Rover and returned to the kitchen for one final inspection.
‘The bedroom will need a deep clean, but I can do that tonight or tomorrow.’ She crouched down, peering beneath the kitchen cabinets. ‘While I’m gone, can you finish up in here?’
Michael blanched. ‘I thought you wanted me to search … ?’
‘You can do both, can’t you? It’s only a bit of cleaning. It won’t kill you.’
‘I know.’
‘Good. One more trip upstairs …’ Nerys paused, as if to choose her words carefully. ‘You know that Alice mustn’t come to any serious harm in my absence.’
‘Who says I’m going to hurt her?’
A look passed between them. Nerys pursed her lips, then said, ‘You’re welcome to question her some more. Don’t worry if you can’t get answers. I’m sure Laird’s men will see to that.’
‘Then why not take her with you?’
‘Do you want me to?’ She smiled, having called his bluff. ‘Like I say, I want her here for insurance. But be ready to bring her to Symonds Yat, if and when, okay?’ A glance at her watch. ‘I should be there by half three at the latest.’
‘Yes. Look, er, Mum—’ He felt a sudden loss of nerve, and it must have been evident in his expression. She pressed the tip of her finger against his lips.
‘Don’t worry, darling. We’re on the home straight now. Just find that dratted USB thing, will you? And by tonight we’ll be rich. We’ll be free.’
Michael nodded, but as he watched her climb the stairs, he thought: I’m already rich.
And until this morning I was free.
Sixty-Five
The decision to make an emergency call didn’t bring as much relief as Harry had hoped. Ruth was categorically opposed to ringing Gloucestershire police for an update, and Harry reluctantly accepted that decision.
When they returned to the discussion about Laird, Ruth admitted that she’d been slightly economical with the truth on one point. Vickery and his team hadn’t reappeared in the way she’d described before. In fact their operations had flourished – albeit with no sign of Laird at the helm – during the years that Ruth had languished in prison.
‘You said that Laird was listening in this morning. So he is still on the scene?’
‘In the sense that he makes the big decisions. But his physical location – that could be anywhere in the world. I doubt if even Vickery knows.’
‘Really?’
She nodded. ‘I remember, years ago, he joked that his ideal routine would be to stay every night in a different bed. I thought he meant to have a different woman – and he probably did mean that, as well. But he likes to stay on the move.’
‘And you have no idea what happened to your son?’
‘I have no solid information.’
‘But?’
‘It’s possible that Nathan gave him away.’
‘Laird gave away his own son?’
Tight-lipped, she nodded. ‘I think he might have sold him.’
She explained that it had been a morbid preoccupation for years. There was no evidence to support it, but wouldn’t anyone in her situation fear the very worst?
Then, during her time in prison, she happened to hear a rumour. A woman in for drug offences had a friend who’d worked as one of Laird’s escorts.
‘She’d got pregnant – accidentally, or so she thought. Later she realised her contraceptives had been tampered with.’
‘The same as you?’ Harry blurted.
‘Possibly,’ Ruth said. ‘Anyway, the woman just assumed she’d have an abortion. She didn’t want a baby, and she couldn’t imagine her employers being pleased. But Vickery persuaded her to reconsider. Once the baby was born it was taken from the mother and never seen again.’
Harry didn’t comment for a minute. He was thinking of Keri, her pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage, and he feared Ruth’s reaction to what he had to say.
‘How much do you know about Renshaw?’
‘Very little. Why?’
‘Just … it surprised me that you seemed so vague about him, despite all the effort you’ve put into investigating Laird.’
‘Yeah, and I’ve also told you how hard it is to get meaningful information.’
Harry conceded the point. ‘According to Keri, Renshaw was a doctor. His job was to look after the girls. He organised contraceptives, checked them for STIs and so on.’ He cleared his throat. ‘If they deliberately wanted pregnancies, he would be perfectly placed to make that happen.’
Ruth was nodding rapidly: a signal to stop talking. Her face was pale, bloodless. After a long silence, all she said was, ‘It all fits.’
‘I’m sorry. I asked Keri if she’d mentioned any of this to Greg and she was fairly sure he knew about Renshaw—’
‘But Greg didn’t tell me that.’ She swallowed heavily. ‘And I can see why. Because I’d make the connection right away.’
‘You told Greg about this rumour in prison?’
A nod. ‘The moment I heard it, I thought: that’s what Benjamin is to Laird. A commodity. And Greg knew it, too, which is why he went to such lengths to hunt Laird.’
‘But you don’t actually know that he gave his own son away, do you?’
She was shaking her head, dismissing his attempt to offer comfort.
‘In our hearts, we knew.’
It was twenty to three when a sign for Cranstone appeared. They turned off the A435 and drove for another two miles along a narrow road, threading their way between rain-dulled meadows and gloomy copses. Apart from a truck that nearly ran them off the road they encountered no other traffic.
Ruth’s phone rang. She listened for a few seconds, then moved the phone to her left ear. Harry had no hope of hearing the conversation.
‘But—’ It was her only contribution. A few more seconds and she flapped a hand at him. ‘Stop the car.’
‘What?’
‘Pull over. Quickly!’
There was a steep grass bank to their left, so Harry swerved across the road and drove two wheels on to the narrow grass verge. He’d barely come to a halt before Ruth discarded her seatbelt and jumped out of the car.
He watched in the rear-view mirror as she strode away, the phone at her ear. He considered following her, then changed his mind; a battle underway in his thoughts.
I have to know.
I don’t want to know.
While he waited, he checked his own phone. No messages. He tried Alice again. The phone was still switched off. What did that mean?
Ruth had come to a halt, her right arm pressed against her stomach. She stood very still, oblivious to the rain, making
no gestures that might hint at the nature of the call.
Unless the lack of movement was a clue in itself.
Two long minutes passed. Then she put the phone away and hurried back, almost running, only to stop again and take cover at the rear of the car. There was a tractor approaching. It had to scrape the bank to get past the Corsa, the driver’s sneer quite easy to read: idiot townies.
Finally she was back in the car. Harry didn’t think he could bear to ask, but he managed a single word: ‘Vickery?’
‘No.’ She sounded distant, almost shellshocked. ‘It was Nathan.’
‘Nathan Laird?’
‘He wants to see me. He says … he says Renshaw’s being brought to them, somewhere near Ross-on-Wye.’
‘What about Alice? Is she still with Renshaw?’
Silence. Ruth sat slumped, head down, eyes unfocused.
‘Ruth!’ he said again. ‘Where is Alice?’
‘Still here, I guess. I asked him. He said they’re not interested in her.’
At this, Harry dared to allow himself a small measure of relief. ‘Does that mean she’s safe?’
‘I don’t know. But I have to go to Ross-on-Wye, right now.’
He saw how pale she was, saw she was trembling.
‘Ruth, what has he told you? Is it about Benjamin?’
‘I’ll drive, Harry. Get out of the car.’
‘Not until I know what’s happened. I can’t go anywhere else if there’s a chance that Alice could still be here.’
He waited, fighting his anger, but Ruth said nothing. He reached out and grasped her upper arm. She flinched, but didn’t look up.
‘I don’t care about Renshaw. I need to find my wife and daughter. You must understand that better than anyone.’
‘I do.’ Now she turned, taking in the physical contact between them, and made eye contact with a deep probing gaze that felt like she was scooping out his soul. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘Why? Sorry about what?’
‘It’s not just Renshaw they’re getting,’ Ruth said. ‘It’s Evie.’
Sixty-Six
She described the call in more detail, but Harry could barely take it in. He felt like he was hearing Ruth’s voice from the bottom of a deep well.
‘They’ve done a deal with whoever was hiding Renshaw. It sounds like Evie was included in that deal. A kind of bonus for them.’
‘You’re not serious. Please tell me you’re not …’
‘I’m sorry. But we still have time to stop it.’
‘Laird will sell her, the way he did—’
‘We don’t know for certain.’ She regarded him sadly. ‘Don’t fall apart now, Harry. We have a lot to do.’
He nodded, wiped his eyes and sniffed. ‘Where have they told you to go?’
‘I don’t have the full address. They’re not stupid. Someone will be watching the main road into town. When they see me go past they’ll call me with instructions.’
‘But you’re walking into a trap.’
‘Of course I am. This is their big chance. I’ve been an irritant to Nathan for years, and now I’m handing him an opportunity to deal with me once and for all.’
‘There must be some way—’
‘No. If I don’t do as he says, Evie will suffer.’
‘He said that? Laird threatened my daughter?’
A solemn nod. ‘So if you were gonna persuade me to think again, forget it. Deep down you don’t want to talk me out of it, and you shouldn’t feel guilty about that.’ A quick, bitter smile. ‘I deserve whatever I get.’
Harry had no idea how to respond. He was struggling to accept that the woman sitting beside him – a woman he should be wary of trusting – was now the only person who could save his daughter’s life.
‘What about Alice? What’s happening to her?’
‘I don’t think they even know where she is.’
‘So it’s possible that she’s still here, in Cranstone? We’ve got to check the address.’
‘You can. I need to get going.’ She paused, giving him a look of almost maternal concern. ‘You have to prepare yourself for the possibility that it’s too late for Alice.’
‘I know that,’ he said tightly. But he was lying. He couldn’t even begin to accept that he might never see his wife again – any more than he could accept the same of his daughter.
And now he had to choose between them.
He stared straight ahead, almost hypnotised by a drop of rain sliding down the glass.
‘Should I stay here or go with you?’
‘If you come with me, I’ll have to drop you off outside of town. They’re expecting me to come alone.’
‘But I ought to be there. Couldn’t I help in some way … ?’
She smiled, as if sparing his feelings. ‘I’m probably better doing this on my own.’
He didn’t take offence. If anything, her honesty helped him deal with the most agonising decision he’d ever faced. Allowing Ruth to go alone made him feel he was abandoning his daughter, who was more precious to him than anyone on earth. And yet, to drive away when Alice might be here in Cranstone, desperately in need of help … how could he even think of leaving her to her fate?
‘I know it’s a lousy choice, Harry. I’m sorry.’
He nodded brusquely, and put the car into gear.
The village was no doubt quite pretty but made little impression on Harry. He checked the odometer as he passed the last house, remembering what Alice had said: about a mile further on.
He pulled over to let a couple of impatient drivers race past, rolled slowly around a bend and finally spotted a narrow opening that might have been Mercombe Lane. As he drew alongside he searched in vain for a road sign, but decided this must be it. There were no other junctions in sight.
He pulled up in the road and put the hazard lights on. They got out of the car, Ruth hurrying round to the driver’s side. Harry moved back to let her get in, but first, unexpectedly, she drew him into a quick embrace.
‘I’ll do my best for Evie, I promise.’
Harry didn’t trust himself to speak. His eyes shining with tears, he stood at the side of the road and watched Ruth drive away, then crossed over and set off along Mercombe Lane.
Sixty-Seven
Alice fought like any mother would, when Nerys revealed what she intended to do. Alice fought, she screamed and struggled, but it did no good. Worse than that, she became so frantic, so distraught that she hyperventilated to the point where she passed out.
When she came round she was alone. The room was empty, the door shut. She listened for movement downstairs, or cars outside, and heard nothing. Nerys had gone, she guessed. But was Michael still here?
Alice hardly cared any more what he might or might not do to her. Compared to losing Evie, it was irrelevant.
A long time seemed to pass before he came in. He was dressed in dark green overalls, and he looked sweaty and dishevelled. After seeing her recoil, he sniffed his armpit and grimaced.
‘Uh oh. Better have a shower.’
‘Michael, please,’ she called to him. ‘Tell Nerys to bring Evie back.’ He hesitated, and she knew what she had to say: ‘Do that for me and I’ll give you anything.’
‘Oh?’ He pretended to be intrigued, raising his eyebrows and taking a step closer. She could smell him now: the armpit routine hadn’t been a joke.
‘I mean it. But you have to save Evie.’
Still smiling, he shook his head. ‘You don’t get to bargain with me, Alice. You should have worked that out by now.’ He indicated her position on the floor. ‘I can do whatever I like. And I will.’
She regarded him with contempt. ‘You think I care? You think that scares me, after what your mother’s done? You’re pathetic.’
He looked disappointed. ‘Oh, Alice, that’s just unnecessary, when I’ve gone out of my way to be kind.’ A wink. ‘Quick shower, then I’ll be back.’
He talked the talk, Michael was thinking as he stripped off in the ba
throom. But could he walk the walk?
This wasn’t like the other occasions. Normally there was alcohol involved, and sometimes drugs. Usually the ambience was suggestive of sex, in some way – plush hotel rooms, low lighting, background music – and both he and the woman in question were relaxed and on good terms, at least to begin with.
But this was about as different as you could get. And without Evie’s presence to act as leverage, Alice might feel she had nothing to lose. As much as it would enhance the experience if she fought him, any scratches or bites would be difficult to explain away to Robyn, when he was supposed to have spent the day reviewing paperwork with his mother. And then there was the risk of leaving DNA on her body.
You won’t get away with this, a voice kept telling him. Just because your mother keeps saying so, doesn’t mean it will all turn out fine.
He put that out of his head and stood under the shower, soaping his body and trying to focus his thoughts on the pleasure to come. As he dried off he wondered about fetching a bottle of vodka and making her drink a few shots. It might soften her up, make her more co-operative.
He considered just wrapping a towel around his waist, but decided it left him feeling vulnerable. Instead he trooped downstairs and retrieved his clothes from the tumble dryer. He’d followed Nerys’s instructions and searched all the hiding places he could think of, but hadn’t found Renshaw’s memory stick. Then he’d made an attempt at cleaning up the kitchen, but would be the first to admit he hadn’t done the job as thoroughly as she would have done it.
Good enough for now, he decided, when there were far more pressing matters on his mind.
Alice was resigned to Michael’s return. If he intended to rape her, it would mean coming close – and that might give her a chance to get free.
Hearing the rattle of the key in the lock, she took a deep breath. The door opened and he entered the room. His hair was wet, mussed up by hand, and he was back in the clothes he’d worn this morning, freshly washed. He was also holding her clothes, neatly folded.
