"Did you love AJ too?"
Taylor kept his eyes trained on the boy, but the nod of his head was unmistakable. "We cared about each other," he said, his voice hoarse with unspoken emotion.
"Why would Matilda do this?" The question didn't surprise Taylor. The resignation in his eyes as he sat back in his chair was unmistakable.
"She wants to hurt me," he said. "She can't hurt him, so she wants to hurt me instead."
"Instead, or as well?"
Taylor met Harriet's gaze, and this time the surprise in his face was unmistakable. "How do you--?"
"He made you help," Harriet said softly. "Didn't he?"
Taylor looked sick and stared down at his hands. "I never wanted to. I didn't like girls. I tried to tell him, I--"
"Did your father make you help when he killed Allison Stanley, Gus Barre Jnr, and Steven Wilkes, too?"
Taylor placed his arms on the table and buried his face in them. "He made me help get rid of the bodies."
"And what about Jack Campbell?"
Taylor nodded miserably. "He made us go back and finish the job... Had me dig the grave."
"And Matilda, how does she fit into all of this?"
"I think she suspected, but..." He trailed off.
"But what?" Drew asked, his voice low and controlled. "But he made sure she'd keep quiet. When she lost the baby when she was fourteen she started having issues. She'd fly into these uncontrolled rages, lose time..." Taylor trailed off. "She went away for a while and when she came back, she was her old self. He'd moved on by then, left us all in the lurch and moved away to another area. Things were better."
Harriet sat and listened to everything he had to say and fought to keep her calm. After all, it was her job to listen without judgement. But hearing Taylor lay the whole sorry tale out for them tested even the limits of her empathy.
"The pictures. She left them for you," Drew said, sliding an image across the desk. Harriet caught a glimpse of Oliver Poole curled up on a cement floor, a teddy-bear clutched in his arms and felt her stomach lurch. He passed another one with a message scrawled across the back. "Our little secret," Drew said, tapping the image with his index finger. "That means something, doesn't it?"
"It's what he used to say to her," Taylor said. "What he said to us both. It was always our little secret."
"Where would she take AJ?" Harriet asked.
"To the same place it all began," Taylor said, staring down at the picture. "The old scouts den. It's where he used to take Matilda and the others. You'll find the other three there too, under the flagstones at the back. It was where he had me bury them."
Drew was out of the chair before Harriet could move. The door slammed after him as he went to prepare the team to go and search for AJ and Matilda.
"You think I'm a monster, don't you?" Taylor said.
"It's not my place," Harriet said. "But what you did to those children..."
"I never hurt them."
"You did the same thing to them that your father did to Matilda. You caused that same damage. There's no denying it."
He shook his head. "I loved them."
"They were children. Just like you were. Just like Matilda."
Taylor choked over a sob and buried his face in his hands as Harriet stood.
"I'm not the only one to blame. She's not innocent either," he said before Harriet had the chance to leave the room. "She knew."
Harriet stepped out into the hall and closed the door gently behind her.
Chapter Forty-Six
It had been difficult to give the order that they needed an Armed Response Team, but that didn't mean it wasn't the right one. His body thrummed with excitement as he waited. The entire place had been silent since they'd arrived, but anticipation laced the air. To Drew it almost felt as though the entire forest itself was holding its breath, just waiting or them to make their move. Uniformed police had been arriving in drips and drabs since they'd got into position, but there was still no sign of the cavalry and it was beginning to make Drew antsy.
Going in there without proper back-up could screw everything up.
The old scout's den's green paint had started to peel, revealing the rotted wood beneath. As Drew stared up at it, he couldn't help but think it was just more proof of how rotten the entire family had been.
"We should be out in front," Melissa said, her fury evident in her voice. "They should be here already."
Drew glanced down at his watch and nodded. She was right. They should have been here. But the snow had started to fall more heavily since they'd left the office, making the roads almost impossible to navigate. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he dialled the monk's number and waited for the call to connect.
"Sir, where are the ART? We're already here and the place is quiet." Drew didn't wait for his SIO to interrupt. "I'm worried that if we don't move soon, it might give her the opportunity she needs to kill another boy."
"They're stuck on the road out of York," Gregson said, sounding as sour as Drew felt. "RTA is holding the whole team up so you're going to have to sit still on this one."
"Sir, with all due respect, I'm not sure--"
"DI Haskell, there's protocol--"
The muffled sound of someone screaming broke Drew's concentration, and before Drew could say anything, the woman next to him had started through the woods.
"Shit," he swore.
"Sir, we don't have a choice, we can hear screaming." Drew ended the call before the monk could offer him further guidance. Whatever Matilda was doing in there was causing AJ Wilson to cry out, and he wasn't going to wait around in the woods and wait for her to kill him. Drew followed DI Appleton and motioned for Maz to keep a check on the perimeter.
Another scream ripped through the air, but this one was muffled in comparison to the last. A cold sweat broke out on Drew's brow. What if they were already too late? What if, by the time they made it inside, she'd already killed him? DI Appleton reached the building first and pressed her shoulder against the door. Like Drew, she was at least armed. They'd both passed their fire-arms training and were permitted to carry in certain situations. A potential hostage situation had warranted them both to check their guns out of lock-up and he was glad she'd suggested it.
A dull thud emanated from the building, and Melissa didn't wait for Drew's signal. She rammed open the door with her shoulder, causing the rotted wood to break up on impact. She disappeared inside, and Drew quickly followed her.
"Matilda Mayhew," Melissa's voice echoed in the deafening silence. "Police!"
A scuffling sound in the back of the building helped to fixate Drew's attention and flipped on his torch in order to illuminate the inside of the room they'd found themselves in. Drew's torch slid over something bulky on the ground. The sight of it was enough to make his blood go cold. He crossed the space, Melissa at his back, and he reached AJ in a couple of strides. The boy's movements were sluggish and jerky. He lay on his side, his hands and feet bound together. Beneath the clear plastic bag that covered his head, Drew could see the telltale blue colour on his lips that said he was suffocating.
Melissa crouched next to the boy and tore the bag off his head. He continued to twitch, but his eyes remained closed. "We need an ambulance," she called out as the sound of other officers arriving on the scene told Drew the back-up had finally arrived.
The slam of a door somewhere off to his right caused him to take off in that direction. He crossed the space and slipped out through another doorway. A small kitchenette that had seen better days greeted him, but it was the backdoor that caught his eye. "Shit," he swore.
Maz joined him in the kitchen as he tugged open the back door and stepped out onto the back porch in time to see a small dark shape disappear into the tree line. "She's in the woods." Drew threw the words back over his shoulder as he vaulted over the porch railing and landed on the ground.
Another officer shot off ahead of him and Drew had only a moment to realise it was DC Green before he disappeared int
o the woods.
Drew followed. Despite the uneven ground, he managed to keep his pace steady. But he was no match for the woman who'd spent most of her life heading up a scout troop and hanging out in the woods. Within a couple of minutes, the heavy snowfall and the darkening skies meant he'd grown completely disorientated.
Pausing, he strained for any sounds that might tell him he was at least on the right path. The only sound was that of the snow as it fell around him, muffling every noise in the forest. Lifting his torch, he swept it up and over the trees surrounding him and felt his stomach drop into his boots. Hundreds of pairs of eyes were reflected back at him. He turned and the hairs on the back of his neck rose as he realised the eyes were behind him, too.
He took a tentative step forward, putting him within touching distance of the nearest pair of eyes and was chagrined to find they weren't eyes at all, but bike reflectors.
"What the fuck," Drew whispered.
A muffled grunt, followed by a thud, sent him further into the forest. "Matilda, it's DI Haskell. There's no use--" Drew cut off, the words dying on his lips as he spotted the dark hunched shape of DC Green on the trail ahead of him.
"Tim?" Drew called out as he closed in on the young detective's position. He was rewarded with a low moan. Staying alert, Drew crouched next to the young man and reached out to him. He touched his shoulder and Drew's hand came away sticky and wet.
In the torch light DC Green's blood appeared black.
Taking a firmer grip on his shoulder, Drew rolled him onto his back and found that the snow beneath Green was stained red. Fumbling for his radio, Drew dropped the torch. He hit the big red emergency button, his sticky fingers sliding over the surface of it.
"Come on, Green." Drew's voice was ragged as he tried to put pressure on the multiple wounds that decorated Green's torso. Timothy coughed, foamy blood splattering onto his chin. His eyes were too wide. Drew knew shock when he saw it. "Shit, Timothy." The DC reached out, his hand grabbing blindly at Drew's arm as he tried to support the young officer. The radio in Drew's hand crackled. "You're safe," he said. "I've got you. You're safe."
Chapter Forty-Seven
Sitting in the station later that night, Harriet stared down at the paperwork on the desk in front of her. The words were impossible to decipher, each one sliding into the next so that it was nothing more than a blur. Everyone in the room was still holding their breath, waiting for news on both AJ Wilson and DC Green.
"No news is good news," Olivia said as she set a cup of coffee next to Harriet's elbow and took a seat opposite her.
"Sorry?"
"The saying, no news is good news. Just because we haven't heard how they're doing doesn't mean it's bad news." There was a haunted look in Olivia's eyes as she glanced down at the file Harriet had been studying. "You don't need to go through that tonight. It can wait."
"I need to do something," Harriet said. "And trying to figure out where Matilda has gone seems like the best use of my time." It seemed like the only use of her time. Sitting waiting for the others to get back had been torture. And when she'd heard of what happened to DC Green, and the way they'd found AJ, well, it only served to make her feel even more useless than before.
"She'll have found somewhere she feels safe," Olivia said.
"I'm not so sure," Harriet said. "As far as she's concerned she has nothing left to lose."
"Well, Anna Wilkes is safe and accounted for, so it's not as though we have to worry about another kid disappearing."
From the corner of her eyes, Harriet spotted Jodie making her way through the desks toward them. "You wanted to know why she was in a mental health facility," Jodie said, speaking before she even made it to their side. "She was diagnosed at eighteen with DID, it's--"
"Dissociative Identity Disorder," Harriet finished for her. When Olivia's expression remained blank, Harriet continued. "Most people mistakenly know it as multiple personality disorder, but that's not exactly true. They aren't separate personalities, rather aspects of a personality that has become dissociated from the rest. It sometimes appears in those who have had to suffer through childhood trauma and from what I've learned from John Taylor and the photographs cataloguing the extensive abuse Drew's team brought back from the scout's den I'd say Matilda has definitely suffered extensive childhood trauma."
"Anything new?" Drew's question cut through the tension in the room.
"Matilda is suffering from multiple personalities," Olivia said quickly. She glanced over at Harriet and shrugged. "It's the fastest way to explain it without all the jargon."
Harriet sighed. "Dissociative Identity Disorder. She probably developed it as a type of coping mechanism. I've read case studies whereby the person with the disorder dissociated, creating a facet of themselves--" She cut off as the others’ blank expressions told her they had no idea what she was talking about.
"Fine. The patient in question created a new personality, that of a man. One who was stronger and could endure the pain of the abuse they were suffering."
"Is that what Matilda has done?" Drew asked thoughtfully.
"It's possible," Harriet said. "But I couldn't say for certain without talking to her, or having a look at her case notes." She sighed and leaned back in the chair.
"Is there any news on AJ, or DC Green?"
Drew shook his head. "Tim is in surgery. So far all we've heard is that he has a collapsed lung. As for AJ he's in critical condition. His parents are with him now and they're demanding answers."
Harriet nodded and glanced down at the files. Something that Drew had said tugged at a previous memory. AJ was with his parents, and they wanted to know the truth. Somebody else's parent had known the truth... As soon as the thought entered her head, she knew what memory was trying to surface. The comment Taylor had made as she left the interview room.
"She knew," Harriet said aloud.
"Excuse me?" Olivia said, raising an eyebrow.
"Who knew?" Drew met Harriet's gaze.
"Mrs Taylor. Sylvia Taylor. She knew what was happening."
"We can't say she knew everything," Drew said.
“No, Drew, she knew. And if she knew, and Matilda is trying to settle the score with everyone who wronged her...”
Drew nodded. "You think she's gone to her mother's house?"
Harriet pushed onto her feet. "I can't be certain, but it's the best we've got."
Drew snatched his coat off the back of a chair and started for the door. "Olivia, call DI Appleton," he said. "And tell them we need an armed response unit over at Sylvia Taylor's house."
"And what if I'm wrong?" Harriet said as she followed him to the door.
"We'll cross that bridge if we come to it," Drew said. "But for the record, I don't think you're wrong."
An hour later Harriet stood with Drew and the ARU outside Sylvia Taylor's house. The place was in darkness, but there was an air of unnatural stillness about the place that didn't sit well with Harriet. The snow had stopped falling, and she was grateful for small mercies.
"You can follow us in..."
Harriet was only listening as the heavily armed men discussed their best move. From the corner of her eye, she could see Drew was practically vibrating with energy, but she couldn't say she felt the same.
The next few moments passed in a blur, and without waiting for Drew's permission, Harriet trailed him inside the house. The static of the radios as the team who had gone in ahead called for an ambulance barely registered in Harriet's mind as they moved down the same hall she been in just a few days prior. The carpet squished beneath her shoes, and she very nearly slipped as she stepped out onto the tiles in the kitchen.
Someone flipped on the light, illuminating the scene, and Harriet found herself wishing they had left it off.
Sylvia Taylor lay in the corner of the kitchen nearest her sink. She was little more than a bloodied lump of clothes and flesh, and Harriet's brain struggled to put the pieces of the puzzle together. What she did notice was Sylvia's walking
stick, that lay in a puddle of dark blood in the middle of the floor.
Harriet turned and came face to face with a young, bloodstained woman at the table. She sat there, perfectly still, her bloodstained hands wrapped around a mug.
Matilda's expression was blank as she stared off into the middle distance, focused on something only she could see.
"Matilda Mayhew, you're under arrest--" Drew continued to speak but Harriet was no longer listening. Matilda turned to stare at them. There was blood streaked down her cheeks, and a smear of it sat beneath her eye.
"Why would you do this?" The question slipped out of Harriet unbidden.
"They didn't protect her, so I had to. And now I'm all she has left."
Chapter Forty-Eight
One week later, Harriet sat in the living room and stared down at the essay papers spread out around her. A low scratching at the front door caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand to attention, but the fear quickly dissipated as Drew's key turned in the lock and he shoved the door open.
He stepped into the hall, carrying a blue carrier bag, and a large brown cardboard box still dusted in snow. "It's really coming down out there now," he said as he set the box on the floor.
"Maybe we'll have a white Christmas after all," Harriet said, as her heart slowly returned to a more normal pace. "What's that?"
"This?" Drew nudged the box with his foot as a smile crept over his lips. "This is the first box from my old place."
Harriet set the papers aside and climbed onto her feet. "You went back there? You actually went inside?"
He nodded, his grin widening. "Don't look so surprised. At least now I won't have to keep buying new shirts every few days."
"Drew, this is wonderful news. I'm so pleased..."
"That's not all the news," he said. "AJ was released from hospital today. And Tim is out of critical care. They think another couple of weeks and he'll be able to go home."
Hunting the Silence: The Yorkshire Murders (DI Haskell & Quinn Crime Thriller Series Book 4) Page 25
