Dying Wish

by James Raven

  ‘He was one of those I’ll never forget because he was a sick bastard then and no doubt still is now.’

  ‘Did he get up to much on the inside?’

  ‘I know he raped at least two young guys but they wouldn’t ID him so we could never prove it.’

  ‘We’ve seen his criminal files. He carried out some pretty nasty assaults. Some while he was wearing women’s clothes.’

  ‘That’s right. I seem to remember being told that he was badly abused as a boy. His father used to farm him out to blokes for money and he was made to wear dresses. I once caught him giving his cellmate a blowjob while wearing make-up and a skirt made from an old T-shirt.’

  Temple asked Peters if he would come to the station in the morning to help a police artist to work up an impression of Kane. Peters said he’d be happy to come in but it would have to wait until the afternoon when there was someone to look after the shop.

  On the way out, Marsh spotted two pairs of binoculars in a display case. She asked Peters if Kane had handled these as well as the pair he bought.

  ‘Indeed he did,’ Peters said. ‘In fact I let him go out onto the pavement to try them all.’

  ‘Has anyone except you touched them since then?’ she asked.

  ‘Not to my knowledge.’

  ‘And was he wearing gloves when he came in?’

  Peters paused for a lengthy moment before shaking his head.

  ‘Definitely not.’

  Marsh looked at Temple. ‘In that case, his prints will be on them.’

  An hour later, the two pairs of binoculars were in the forensic lab back in Southampton. The prints lifted from them were compared with those on Kane’s file.

  They were a perfect match.

  48

  Angel was still up when Temple finally got home. He was pleased because he felt bad for not having called her during the day.

  But she wasn’t cross with him this time. Quite the opposite. She poured him a cold beer and told him she’d been following events on the news during the day.

  ‘Now you can give me a first-hand account,’ she said. ‘I’ve been dying to hear what’s really been going on.’

  Temple relished the lift the beer gave him and when Angel produced a chicken sandwich from the fridge, he felt made up.

  He was also pleased to see that her mood had improved and she was more like her old self. That was no doubt down to what he’d told her the night before about looking forward to being a father again. It had taken an enormous weight off her shoulders and allowed her to avoid having to make a difficult decision.

  His own reservations hadn’t gone away, though. Being so busy had merely spared him the agony of having to dwell on them.

  She listened intently as he told her about the investigation and where they’d got to.

  ‘So tonight we have Tom Fowler in custody,’ he said. ‘He’s a man who admits to being a masochist and he killed his girlfriend some years ago during a kinky sex session. He said it was an accident but was convicted of manslaughter. But he’s denying he was Mason’s accomplice, despite the strong circumstantial evidence that suggests otherwise. In addition, we’ve just found out that Mason’s depraved former cellmate, Ethan Kane, has been seen in the forest, which ratchets up the case against him.’

  And that was a problem they were now faced with. The pressure to bring charges against Fowler based on the evidence found in his home would grow. But where would that leave them with Kane? Would the brass be tempted to ignore his presence in the area? Or would the search for him continue in earnest, thus undermining, to some extent, the case against Fowler?

  ‘So what does your gut tell you about Fowler?’ Angel said. ‘Is it possible that he’s telling the truth and is being fitted up?’

  Temple shrugged. ‘I honestly don’t know. Part of me thinks that if he was Mason’s accomplice, then he wouldn’t have been so stupid as to leave that stuff in his house and on his driveway. But the other part of me thinks he probably didn’t expect us to turn up out of the blue to carry out an official search.’

  Those thoughts continued to churn over in Temple’s mind after they got in bed. They kept him awake into the early hours as Angel snored lightly beside him.

  When he did finally drop off to sleep, there was still no escape from the horrors of this particular case. He dreamt of skeletons in shallow graves and men and women being raped and tortured in a dingy dungeon.

  And he saw Bob and Rosemary Hamilton running for their lives through dense woods, their naked bodies smeared with their own blood and tears.

  Twice his eyes snapped open in the darkness and he woke up.

  And twice Angel had to wipe the sweat from his brow and hug him for a while before he could get back to sleep.

  49

  Monday morning arrived with heavy storm clouds and more unpleasant news.

  Overnight, two more graves had been dug up in the forest, taking the total number found to nine. The two latest locations were in woods near the villages of Beaulieu and Fritham. It took the body count to thirteen. All three had been buried over a year ago, according to Mason’s map.

  The one consolation was that friends and relatives of the victims would at last have closure. They wouldn’t have to wonder for the rest of their lives what had happened to their loved ones.

  But Temple knew it would do nothing to lessen the pain of grief. Or stop them from imagining the terrible suffering their sons, daughters, brothers and sisters had endured at the hands of Grant Mason and his accomplice.

  There was more blanket coverage on the news channels. Temple watched some of it before leaving home.

  The arrest of Tom Fowler was given equal prominence alongside the discovery of the graves. There was slightly less airtime devoted to the couple who were still missing, although photos of the Hamiltons were being screened about every thirty minutes.

  All the channels were also naming Fowler as the man in custody, but a police spokesman was refusing to confirm that. As a consequence, local residents in and around East Boldre were laying siege to his house in order to vent their anger and disgust. In one shot on Sky News, it looked as though about thirty people had gathered along the roadside outside the house.

  A number of talking heads gave their reaction to what was happening, including one of the local MPs, a middle-aged woman named Trudie Nelms.

  ‘This is a shocking episode in the history of our beloved New Forest,’ she said. ‘I feel for the families of those poor people who fell victim to the depravity of Grant Mason. And I pray that he and the monster who committed those heinous crimes with him will get their just reward.’

  Next up was an official with the National Park Authority who wanted to make it known that the forest was still open for business. He urged people not to stop coming.

  ‘Despite what has happened, the New Forest remains a beautiful, vibrant and very special place. The livelihoods of thousands of people will depend on the continued support of holiday-makers and day-trippers.’

  The BBC carried an exclusive interview with the parents of Paul Kellerman, the student whose body had been the first to be found. His mother, a thin, hollow-cheeked woman, described her son in glowing terms before breaking down on air.

  Her husband, a thick-set man with a shiny comb-over, said, ‘Paul was our only son and we loved him. I can’t describe how much we miss him. I hope the two men who took him from us will rot in hell.’

  It was a sentiment shared by many others, from local councillors to the friends of the victims.

  Angel came downstairs just in time to see the Prime Minister condemn what he described as a series of crimes that were beyond wicked. And he promised an inquiry into why the police hadn’t spotted a connection between so many disappearances over a two-year period.

  ‘It was because Mason was shrewd enough to make sure the cars belonging to the victims were dumped well away from the forest,’ Temple said for Angel’s benefit. ‘There was no obvious pattern. They were therefore treated a
s separate missing person cases by various forces, including ours.’

  Angel didn’t respond so he turned to look at her. She was sitting at the kitchen table with her face in her hands.

  ‘Are you feeling OK?’ he asked.

  She lifted her head and tried to smile. ‘I’ve just been sick in the loo upstairs and I feel bloody awful.’

  ‘Isn’t that what happens to women in the early stages of pregnancy?’

  She puffed out her cheeks. ‘I didn’t imagine it would be this bad.’

  ‘Well, you’d better get used to it, sweetheart. It’ll get worse before it gets better.’

  He walked over and gave her a kiss.

  ‘I take it you don’t want me to make you a full English breakfast with eggs, bacon, sausages, beans and toast,’ he said.

  She pulled a face. ‘Piss off to work, you cruel man.’

  And so he did, after pouring her a glass of cold water and giving her a long, affectionate hug.

  50

  ‘OK, listen up everyone,’ Temple said. ‘We’ve got a big day ahead of us so we all need to focus.’

  It was 9 a.m. and most of the team were in for the briefing, including two guys from media relations and a strong uniform contingent. Beresford was in a meeting with the Chief Constable and had phoned to say that he’d be along soon.

  ‘The first thing to report is that nine out of the ten graves marked on Mason’s map have now been uncovered,’ Temple said. ‘The search for the tenth at Honey Hill is still going on. It was held up during the night because of heavy rain.’

  He reminded everyone that thirteen bodies had so far been discovered and there were two names on the map against the Honey Hill site, which would take the total to fifteen. The team listened in silence, awed and repelled by the grim statistics.

  Temple talked about his meeting with Seth Peters and the need to find Ethan Kane.

  ‘Peters is coming in later to help us work up an artist’s impression,’ he said. ‘Kane looks very different to his photograph apparently so we should circulate the new description as soon as possible. This guy’s presence in the area concerns me. We need to know if he’s been in contact with Mason and Fowler.’

  Temple told the team what Peters had said about Kane’s antics while in Albany prison.

  ‘That was before he moved to Winchester and shared a cell with Mason,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe that those two sick bastards didn’t collude in some way. And if they did then where does Fowler fit into it? Are we wrong to assume that Mason had just one accomplice? Is it possible he had two?’

  They were still discussing this startling possibility when the Chief Super joined them. He was sceptical at first and tried to pick holes in the theory.

  ‘So how come Mason’s videos and photographs show just one other man?’ he said. ‘The man in the mask.’

  ‘We can’t be a hundred per cent certain that it’s the same man in all the sequences,’ Temple pointed out. ‘And we don’t know if there are more videos and photos featuring a third person. Maybe the others also have their own collections.’

  The conversation switched to Tom Fowler and it was confirmed that a warrant had been obtained to search his office and work computer.

  The latest from the forensic team at his house was that no other incriminating evidence had been found there. This morning, the search of the garden and the woods around the property would continue.

  ‘I want us to talk to all his friends and colleagues,’ Temple said. ‘And we should go back to East Boldre and talk to his neighbours in the village.’

  The Chief Super made it known that he was anxious for Fowler to be charged, regardless of whether Ethan Kane might also be implicated in the killings.

  ‘The guy’s guilty as sin,’ he said. ‘I’ve spoken to the CPS and they believe we already have more than enough to get him convicted of abducting and killing the Hamiltons. They’ve made it clear that they’ll press ahead with a prosecution without a confession and without any bodies.’

  51

  As soon as Temple started interviewing Fowler again, he knew that he wasn’t going to get a confession. The man continued to maintain his innocence, and having had a night’s sleep he was more coherent and much calmer.

  He repeated that he did not know where Bob and Rosemary Hamilton were. Temple pushed him hard on this but he was insistent that he had never met them.

  Temple said that the evidence spoke for itself, but Fowler’s lawyer challenged this assumption. He asked if his client’s prints or DNA were on the flogger whip and laptop found in the house and on the clothes left in the wheelie bin.

  ‘Those objects are still undergoing forensic analysis,’ Temple said, though in truth he’d been told that the only prints found on the laptop and flogger belonged to Mason.

  During the first break, Temple held a quick meeting and was given updates. Marsh told him that police in London had interviewed Noah Cross’s friend, who confirmed that he had picked Cross up from Waterloo Station on Thursday evening about ten and that Cross had then stayed with him until the weekend.

  ‘Meanwhile, I’ve asked to see the CCTV footage from Southampton Central Station for Thursday evening just to double check his alibi,’ Marsh said.

  DC Whelan had been talking to Fowler’s work colleagues at the estate agents.

  ‘They say he’s a good agent who gets on well with everyone,’ he said. ‘None of them knew that he had a criminal record for manslaughter and they didn’t know he was into S&M. But they did provide a piece of information that came as a surprise. They said that Fowler did not go into work on the Saturday before last.’

  ‘He told us he did,’ Temple said.

  ‘Well, he was either lying or he forgot. He apparently called in sick.’

  Temple decided to try to catch Fowler out. Back in the interview room, he asked him a series of questions he had already asked him and then said, ‘So remind us where you were on Saturday of last week, the day that Bob and Rosemary Hamilton went missing.’

  Fowler pinched his cheeks, exhaled a heavy breath. ‘I’ve told you already. I was at work until the middle of the afternoon.’

  ‘But you’re lying,’ Temple said. ‘According to your colleagues, you didn’t go in at all that day.’

  Fowler creased his brow and made as if to think about it.

  ‘Oh, that’s right. I wasn’t feeling too good so I decided not to go in.’

  ‘So how come you didn’t say that before?’ Temple asked him. ‘Why lie about it?’

  ‘I forgot. It’s as simple as that. I can’t be expected to remember everything.’

  ‘So what did you do on that day?’

  ‘I stayed at home. I might have gone to the pub in the evening, but I don’t remember.’

  ‘And what about on the Sunday?’

  Fowler moved his shoulders. ‘I think I went for a walk. It’s what I usually do on Sundays when I’m not being harassed by you lot.’

  Temple kept up the pressure for another two hours, firing questions until he was convinced that Fowler wasn’t going to change any of his answers.

  It was 3 p.m. when he decided to charge him with abducting Bob and Rosemary Hamilton. He read Fowler his rights and told him he’d be held in custody until he appeared before a magistrate.

  ‘If you have a change of heart and want to tell us what you’ve done with the Hamiltons, then inform your lawyer right away,’ Temple said.

  As he left the interview room, hot and exhausted, he was approached by an anxious-looking Fiona Marsh.

  ‘I’ve just had a call from Angel, guv,’ she said. ‘She’s been trying desperately to contact you.’

  ‘My phone’s been switched off,’ he said. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘An ambulance is about to pick her up and take her to the hospital.’

  ‘My God – what for?’

  Marsh moistened her lips. ‘I’m afraid she thinks she’s having a miscarriage.’

  52

  Rosemary Hamilton was sti
ll nursing her wound when he went back down to the basement.

  She was sitting up on the bed while wrapping a clean bandage around her left leg. He had cut her on the inside of her thigh, but only deep enough to produce a decent amount of blood that could be applied to her sweater and jeans. He’d then given her a couple of butterfly strips to stem the bleeding, along with the bandage.

  Her husband was watching from the other side of the bed, his eyes glazed, his breathing faint.

  Getting blood from him had been more difficult because he’d tried to resist. But he’d been too weak to put up much of a fight and a couple of blows to the head had rendered him unconscious. So he hadn’t felt the knife slice across his left buttock and the blood spill onto the mattress.

  Now Bob was lying on his side and the huge plaster he’d been given covered the shallow wound. It looked as though the life as well as the blood had been drained out of him.

  ‘When are you going to let us out of here?’

  It was Rosemary again. Her voice was a scratchy whisper. She was the one who did all the talking, asked all the same questions over and over.

  He didn’t answer her. He rarely did because he didn’t like to engage in conversation with his playthings unless he had to.

  He had planned to kill them last night, but had changed his mind when he realized that the pressure was off. Fowler was under arrest and it came as a big relief because it meant he didn’t have to rush things. He could have one more night of fun with Rosemary and Bob.

  According to the news, Fowler had now been charged with abducting the Hamiltons. He’d become the focus of the police’s attention. They were convinced he’d been Grant Mason’s accomplice, and that he had broken into Mason’s house and stolen his laptop.

  And that was just great. His little plan to incriminate Fowler had worked like a dream. Now he could relax and give careful thought to where he should go from here.

  ‘We want to see our son again,’ Rosemary said. ‘Why are you keeping us here?’

  He offered her a smile instead of an answer. She didn’t have to know that she was going to die tonight along with her husband. He’d already dug the grave. It was in the woods just a few yards from the house and he was confident it would never be found.