by George Rufus
Chapter Twenty three
The trip to Exeter the day before, had paid off. Rob and Kate had established that Steve Cranbourne's truck had been thoroughly searched in terms of interior, back space and tyres but Rob's theory of the bull bars not being scrutinised to the tenth degree, was true. It had always slightly niggled Rob that the truck had had a fairly scrupulous power wash prior to them getting their hands on it. Steve had justified this by how proud he was of the truck and how important it was to keep it tidy looking for business and to maintain it properly. His wife had also supported these facts by moaning how much time he spent cleaning it. On arriving back in Tavistock, he had asked for the truck to be re-examined, finding it now sold, heightened his suspicions further. So the truck was being brought back to Exeter after the new owner being contacted and Steve was back at the station helping the police with their enquiries, with the support of his solicitor. Rob and Kate had observed the interview that was currently going on and it was obvious that Steve felt under considerable pressure to stay true to his earlier story. More and more questions about the events of the night when the two girls had died were fired at him by the two highly experienced officers in the room. Steve's solicitor regularly and consistently asked for breaks, gave Steve advice when and when not to answer. After many hours of a chess like situation with only a few moves seemingly gaining forward moves, a telephone call came through from Exeter to say that a hair removed from the bull bars, that had been dismantled was being tested and they were hopeful of a result by the next day. As Steve and his solicitor were leaving the reception area, he was detained on the basis of further evidence and put in a cell overnight.
In the station, after weeks of getting absolutely nowhere, there was a palpable heady atmosphere of a result in sight. What it meant in terms of all the deaths that had occurred no one spoke about. There was no point of leaping ahead. All that was needed was a concrete piece of proof that would reignite whole chains of leads and everyone' s drive.
Rob left the station on a high, his gut feeling and insistence on the truck being re-examined had paid off. He felt he could trust his own feelings again. He felt really positive and on a bit of a high. He hadn't felt like that for a while. He picked up his phone. He didn't even think about why he was doing it. He texted Tess, ‘Sorry been ridiculously busy. When can we meet?'
He pressed send.
Hurtling through the teatime traffic, he realised he had already missed the first half of his son's football match, which he had promised to attend. Broken promises were becoming a regular feature of family life and as he drove, he made the decision to not make them anymore but to just emphasise he would always do his best. He knew why he felt he had to commit because he was so scared of losing the boys in a custody battle, if it came to that. He also needed them to feel secure in his commitment to them after the unhappiness and insecurities that his and his wife's separation had caused. He needed them to need him and want to stay with him too. He realised how this wasn't fair but they were his world and he couldn't comprehend living it without looking after them. It was tough some days, like an impossible balancing act, but it would be a hell of a lot tougher without them.
The match was only an early school season friendly, but there would still be a competitive edge, as it was local state versus independent school. Pathetic as it was, there was a different atmosphere each year when the teams met up purely by each trying to rub it in each other's faces who were the better for obvious reasons. Rob felt for the coaches of both sides. He anticipated if the year sevens from the independent school lost, the poor coach was probably hauled over the coals by the head for embarrassing the school and not giving the parents concrete evidence why they should be paying thousands for the privilege of losing to the local school.
He finally arrived and had to park a considerable distance down the drive, meaning a sprint was necessary if he was to catch any of the second half and save face. As he ran, he already had his answer ready for when his son complained that he had missed most of it. He would tell a bare face lie and pretend he was right at the back and seen it all. All he had to do was hope Jackie or Nicky were there, as they usually were and he could glean information about key moments to pull out the hat as evidence that he had indeed been there! As he ran towards the noise of the spectators roaring as a goal was missed, he recognised the old groundsman they had chatted to a week or so ago about the old Land rover. The match was being played at the prep school site as it had the facilities. He caught the old guy looking at him and went to smile but he looked away immediately on eye contact and the moment was lost.
"Funny bugger," he whispered to himself.
He soon found his get of jail card, when he spotted Nicky and Jackie huddled together on the sidelines, chatting away.
"Hello Ladies, what's the score then. Are we thrashing them? “He asked, kissing both women amicably on the cheek.
"No we're not!" Nicky grumbled bad temperedly. "Worst refereeing I have ever seen. Completely biased."
Jackie caught Rob's eye and winked.
He decided to lighten the mood.
"Seem to remember you saying that last year, Nicky. C'mon, give me meaty bits of information that will help me out as I am so late and don't forget I have been here all along if Neil asks."
"Rob Robertson, you are a one," she laughed. His tactics had worked and he had brought a smile back to her face.
“Talking about being a one, what's the state of play between you and Tess?" Jackie threw in, whilst facing the match. Rob felt himself instantly redden and was glad they all had the match to pretend to be watching, while he regained his composure.
“Oh, what's this I haven't been privy to," Nicky teased, far more interested in the tittle tattle than her son playing on pitch.
“Nothing really, just had a couple of drinks," Rob blurted out, hoping to God he sounded nonchalant.
“Not what I have heard!" Teased. Jackie, putting him completely out of his comfort zone in one foul stroke.
Luckily for him the striker and another forward from his son's side were dangerously near scoring and triumphantly scored, sending out a blasting cheer from some spectators and giving him a chance to recover and end the conversation right there. Within seconds the final whistle blew, leaving a satisfactory result of a draw and appeasing everyone enough for match tea to be bearable.
Rob, Jackie and Nicky went through the main reception area and through to a beautifully wood panelled room where tea and cake was available for the parents, while their children changed and then ate together elsewhere. Rob steered the conversation, away from dangerous territory by asking about both their husbands and other children. Between mouthfuls of fantastic coffee and walnut cake, the conversation inevitably turned to the debate of private versus state education, though in a hushed whisper. As no one could actually afford the fees it was obviously a one sided debate but Rob's attention returned to the conversation when Jackie started talking about the old maintenance guy that she had heard stories about.
" At the end of the day, at least I know that the kids are in places where everyone is police checked and scrutinised thoroughly, even if they don't have low class numbers and fans facilities." She chirped.
" I am sure the private system does the same doesn't it?"' Nicky asked Rob.
"Absolutely ," he nodded, not wishing to be drawn into a job related or otherwise awkward conversation.
"Then why is Roy McGrath wandering around here, that's what I'd like to know.Everyone knows his dodgy past, pretty sure the school must," Jackie prattled on.
"Who's that?" Nicky urged, not letting it go.
“The old guy who was wandering around collecting in the flags at the end. He's had stories about him and his tendencies for years?"
“What tendencies?"
“An affiliation to young boys, " Jackie muttered in hushed tones, realising the conversation was getting very near to scandalous.
“You are joking! Why would he be allowed near Kids,"
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Rob feeling uncomfortable decided to change the dialogue as quickly as possible and was relieved when he saw their respective three sons coming towards them , changed and ready to go.
He said his goodbyes, said he would try to be on time for Nicky and Chris’ barbecue that weekend, weather dependent and left.
As he drove away, he half listened to Neil his son raving about his passes and retelling the match in an elaborate manner, but found his mind wandering to the speculations about the old groundsman at the school and how shifty he had been when he and Kate had visited. His thoughts were hastily re-routed however as his son took him to task for being late and he had to try and fabricate a convincing story of being there earlier than he actually had.
Chapter Twenty Four
That same evening with both boys fed, showered and in bed, Rob grabbed himself a beer and decided to catch up on some sport he had recorded, when his phone bleeped out several texts in succession. In the process of a few minutes he went from low to high and lows gain. On reflection like daily life, he mused. The first message was from Kate, letting him know she wouldn't be in work and apologising, but there were complications with her pregnancy and they were admitting her into Derriford hospital. His heart sank for her. It was her first pregnancy and she was hyper vigilant about doing the best for the baby in her womb. She has seemingly read every book and website, she ate and drank nothing that wasn't super nutritious and healthy. It seemed totally unfair that she was having such a scare. He immediately sent her back a text wishing her the very best, telling her not to worry and asking her to keep in touch. He made a mental note to get in touch with her husband the next day and find out which ward she was on so he could send her flowers.
The next text he read, was from Tess, asking if he was free for supper on Sunday evening. He was momentarily thrilled she'd got back to him, until he realised it clashed with the Barbeque at Chris' and Nicky's he'd already agreed to go to. He couldn't bail out as it was a family affair with the boys invited too. In fact it was going to be a lot of friends with their kids and had taken quite a lot of planning on Nicky's part. He was worried that Tess would feel he was brushing her off, so he decided to be honest.
' Can't do Sunday, sorry. Have a Barbecue at a friends with my sons. Can we arrange another evening soon.'
He deliberated over the word 'soon' several times. Did it make him look too keen? He omitted it and reinstated it several times, before finally sending the message intact as it was originally.
He had nothing to lose after all, he told himself.
The final message was from his ex-wife, asking him to attend mediation with her, to discuss the boys and the future. There was no way he was bothering to reply to that tonight. It had been a full on day. With the roller coaster of emotions and events going on his life, he wasn't really feeling mediation was in his veins at the moment. He felt more like strangling her, except that would hurt the boys so it was only a momentary flash of indulgence. No, he thought as he poured himself the last dregs of his favourite whiskey, he wasn't bothering replying to that. In fact, he pressed delete.
At the same time, someone else was angrily deleting images he had found on the laptop he had kept, instead of taking to the tip. On a whim, he had kept the perfectly working laptop that Roy had asked him to bin. But he now regretted it. He had waited until he was alone in his caravan and had decided to try and research any websites he might be able to use if he wanted to track down his mum. He had known Roy's password, as he had noted it when Roy had used the laptop in the office in the maintenance shed. He hadn't asked Roy if he could have it because he hadn't offered it to him and because he had seem so agitated and keen to dump it. Anyway what harm was there, he had reasoned to himself, in keeping it a few weeks, to help him plan his next move.
He soon wished he had not.
He had logged into Roy's account and instead of googling potential naval personnel sites, his curiosity had got the better of him and he had opened up some personal files containing hundreds of downloaded images of men.
Mainly young men, all naked. All in a heightened state of sexual erectness. All engaging in sexually explicit acts of self-gratification or with others. It was simply homosexual titillation and porn but he felt sickened to the pit of his stomach. Roy was a pervert like his father. Roy had been only interested in helping him because he was young, vulnerable and male. Every conversation and act of kindness that Roy had given him was merely now seen and understood as grooming him.
As he scrolled through the images, deleting but still looking, he felt himself responding in a way that doubly sickened himself. He smashed down harder on the keys with his fingers, then his fists and finally, he picked up the laptop and smashed it against every hard service in the caravan, reeking damage everywhere. He finally sat down, breathing heavily, tears and snot running down his face. Why? Why? Fucking perverts everywhere. No one could be trusted. Thank god he had found out before Roy had made a move on him. The time bomb had been clicking away and he hadn't realised. He did not understand why this kept happening to him. But he was going to bring the next part of his plan forward and move on. His plan had not included anything to do with Roy. Should it now? He laid for a long time huddled in the foetal position, on his narrow couch. Roy had not hurt him because he hadn't had the chance. He was going to be gone very soon. Anything happening to Roy now, could potentially draw attention to him. So the answer was clear. Roy could live on his perverse, crude, rejected little lifestyle because he would soon be gone, to a better place.
Chapter Twenty Five
The media went into full blown hysteria when the announcement was made two days later that Steve Cranbourne had been charged with the manslaughter of Andrea Sellars. The hair that was removed from the dismantled bull bars, had been identified plus some others, as hers. Steve had broken down and confessed to accidentally hitting her at a high speed when returning from his call out that fateful evening of the wild camping. He had panicked as she was obviously dead and had hidden her body on the moor. On returning home, he had hand washed off his truck, but given it a power wash the next day to remove any traces of blood. There had been no damage to the actual vehicle and he had sold it on after it was examined the first time.
Immediately he had been cross examined in relation to the other murders, but it appeared despite the tenuous and preposterous links in the newspapers, he had had nothing to do with them.
His wife had hastily removed herself and her children, back to her parents, where the police were helping her to fight off a storm of public hatred and unwanted media attention.
With only one piece of the jigsaw now in place, police attention was intensified back on the three unsolved killings of Freda Adolphson, Agnes Wright and David Hardy. Rob imagined himself under pressure to find a link or an angle that no one else had thought of, despite no one directly said anything to him. Like everyone else on the case, he mulled over and over each individual person, their circumstances and any links. He went through endless lists of people they were connected to, places they had lived and anyone who would have cause to hate them enough to end their lives. The obviously gruesome way Agnes and Davis died, suggested a far greater level of hatred. Many people were of the opinion that only these two killings were linked and that Freda's had been an act of angry violence by her hot headed boyfriend.
This meant Ian was still in the spotlight and a separate team were to re-examine his alibis and the statements that had been collected from potential witnesses. These had included some walkers early on in the day, the farmers wife in the house near the car park and those of Steve Cranbourne and his wife. But Steve wasn't a reliable witness and with his wife now in such a state, little more could be achieved there.
There was increasing pressure to charge him, but absolutely no concrete evidence that would stand up in court. At no point had Ian deviated from his original story and he was himself now a shadow of his former self. With the knowledge that his friend had now confessed to mansla
ughter, his girlfriend dead and he had subsequently lost his new job, so also his flat, he was almost at the point of a breakdown. The lack of sleep, not eating and continual questioning was taking a toll on his health and state of mind. His whole life and relationships had been played out for weeks in the newspapers, so any chance of a fair trial, should it come to that, was remote. He had little close family and distinctly less friends than he appeared to have a few weeks ago, life was grim and he couldn't see an end to it. He had so nearly had it all again, only to lose it all. He had no idea, energy or inclination to even try.
