Ten minutes later, she stepped out of the flat with the rucksack slung over one shoulder.
Paul Clark smiled at her. ‘You ready?’ he asked.
Drew turned and slammed the door, she had no key but then again, she had no intention of ever entering the flat again.
‘I’m ready,’ she replied, following the police officer along the walkway, a new spring in her step as the fear slowly fell away from her like a filthy black shroud.
34
Rowan paced the room, trying to dislodge the terrifying images from her quaking mind. She pictured her father – only this time he wasn’t smiling at her – this time his eyes were closed, the smile had vanished for eternity. All sense of time had evaporated as she walked back and forth until exhaustion had taken hold and she had collapsed on the bed and fallen asleep again.
Now, she was awake and counting the steps from one wall to the next, her head lowered as she walked, her mind gradually closing down until all she saw was her trainers flicking into view with every step she took.
Her dad couldn’t be dead, it was unimaginable, impossible, not her dad, not her loving, caring dad. The man had been lying, trying to scare her. Rowan nodded to herself, it was all lies and sooner or later her father would find her, he would never give up, never stop looking for her. Teeth gritted, she tried to encourage the seed to grow, tried to nurture the thought that she would be found and it would be her father who walked in through the door and swept her up in his arms.
Then she thought of her mother, the image stopped her in her tracks, her mum was in the hospital bed, her face unrecognisable as the cancer had eaten flesh from bone. Rowan had been on one side of the bed, her father sitting opposite, each holding onto a hand of the woman who meant the world to them both. A wife and mother, the glue that held the family together. But there was no glue strong enough to keep them together and slowly and painfully she had slipped away from them, leaving a void that would never be filled.
Rowan stood in the centre of the dusty room, under the cone of sickly yellow light, her body locked in the foul-smelling cellar while her spirit was sitting in the sterile hospital room as her mother died.
She remembered looking across the bed to see her father with tears seeping from his eyes, eyes that had been full of heartache. The machine by the bed had beeped and droned and time had stretched out. Rowan had looked at the thin sheet covering her mother’s emaciated frame, concentrating her gaze on the slow rise and fall of the sheet as her mother’s breathing gradually faded.
It had been ten past two in the afternoon, the sun streaming through the window when she died. Both father and daughter had looked at one another and known the truth. Rowan could remember walking around the bed and sitting on her father’s knee as they both looked at the woman who had made their lives worthwhile.
Ten minutes later, a nurse had come in to take her pulse. ‘I’m sorry, she’s gone,’ her voice had been soft and full of empathy.
Then her father had picked Rowan up and carried her from the room, she could remember looking over his shoulder as the nurse pulled the sheet over her mother’s face. Rowan had cried then, burying her face in her father’s shoulder as he carried her through the hospital and out into the bright sunshine.
Now, she hitched in a breath of air and rubbed at her tear-stained eyes, losing her mum had been bad, the worst thing ever but now she was faced with the terrible realisation that God didn’t care, he had no interest in looking after anyone. The thought crushed her and as she tried to take a step her legs buckled and she fell to the floor, the tears trickled down her cheeks, she withdrew into herself trying to find a safe place to a hide, only now she knew that no such place existed.
‘You are alone,’ the voice inside whispered, and Rowan Hall felt her heart break at the truth.
35
‘Dead?’ Polly gasped as Marnie explained about David Hamer. They were sitting in the small side room adjacent to the reception area of the hostel.
‘If Emma’s available then I really need to speak to her?’ Marnie asked.
Polly tried to take on board what Marnie had told her. The image of Tom Conway bloomed in her mind, she thought of his parting words, promising Emma that her abuser would not be bothering her again. She licked her lips nervously, her hands fidgeting in her lap, Marnie waited as the seconds stretched out.
‘Is everything OK?’ she asked.
Polly looked up from the desk. ‘To be honest, I’m not entirely sure.’
Marnie frowned as she leaned forward in her seat.
‘You see, the thing is, we had a man call at the hostel – he was an old friend of John Hall’s – and—’
‘John Hall?’ Marnie interrupted, the frown on her face deepening.
Polly looked agitated as she ran a hand through her grey-flecked hair. ‘John’s in charge of this unit and five weeks ago he vanished with his daughter—’
‘Rowan?’ Marnie asked.
Polly nodded again. Marnie knew of the case, in fact there was an image of both father and daughter pinned on the notice board at the station. She knew DI Rogers was in charge of the case, as far as she was concerned investigations were still ongoing.
‘Do you have a name for this man?’ she asked.
Polly shifted in the chair. ‘He said his name was Tom Conway, he served with John in the army and apparently they were still in contact, so when they went missing he came here to look for them.’
‘And what did you tell him?’
Polly Hardy’s face grew red as Marnie looked at her keenly. ‘He asked if we’d had any trouble at the unit.’
‘What sort of trouble?’
‘Well, you see the thing is, occasionally we get men turning up and causing a commotion.’
‘You mean boyfriends and partners trying to get to the women?’
Polly sighed. ‘Exactly.’
Marnie crossed her legs and eased back in the chair.
‘Mr Conway asked about the last man who kicked off and I told him that thankfully John had been here to sort the situation,’ she stopped again, the faint look of panic back in her eyes. ‘He was trying to see Emma but John was having none of it and things became quite heated, John grabbed the man and forced him through the door.’
‘What was his name?’
Polly chewed her lip anxiously. ‘When Conway asked Emma, she told him the man was called Hamer, Dave Hamer.’
Marnie stood up. ‘I’d like to see Emma, please.’
Polly leapt to her feet and hurried around the desk. ‘If you’d like to follow me?’ she asked, opening the door and heading out into the hallway.
Marnie followed the middle-aged woman through a set of double doors and then up two flights of stairs before stopping outside a door on the left.
She turned to Marnie, her eyes held a note of caution. ‘Please go easy, Emma’s very fragile at the best of times and I’m not sure how she’ll react to the news about Hamer.’
‘Don’t worry, I know Emma is the victim here and I’ll treat her as such.’
Polly smiled in relief before tapping on the door. A few seconds later, it opened and Emma looked at Marnie with more than a hint of suspicion in her eyes.
‘Emma this is DS Hammond, now it’s nothing for you to worry about but I was wondering if we could have a word?’ Polly asked sotto voce.
Emma seemed to shrink, her eyes widening in fear.
Marnie smiled sympathetically. ‘Believe me, Emma, I’m not here to give you a hard time, in fact I have a message from Drew.’
‘Drew?’ Emma gasped.
‘Can I come in?’ Marnie asked.
Emma stepped back to let her in, her face a strange mixture of panic and excitement.
36
It seemed completely bizarre but Joseph Bold couldn’t seem to stop talking. Tom Conway sat at the kitchen table and listened as Bold stopped to draw breath.
‘The truth is, I never had much to do with Tam,’ Joseph paused, ‘I mean, Chelsea loved the bones of
the man but he always made me feel nervous.’
‘Why’s that?’
Joseph leaned forward as if afraid of being overheard. ‘Let’s just say he could be very imposing when he wanted to be and I know he thought Chelsea could do better when she married me.’
‘Do you know how he died?’ Conway asked and watched as the colour bled from Bold’s face.
‘Chelsea said someone had,’ he leaned even further forward, ‘cut off his head,’ he whispered and shivered at the thought.
Conway remained impassive at the news. ‘What about Rae?’
At the mention of the name, the last of the colour drained from Joseph’s face. ‘I don’t really know the man,’ he whispered, throwing a glance towards the kitchen door.
Conway planted his elbows on the kitchen table. ‘But Tam and Rae were good friends, right?’
For the first time, Joseph Bold stopped and took stock of the situation, wondering what the hell he was doing spilling his guts to a total stranger. He looked across the table at the tall man with the friendly smile, though when he looked into his eyes he saw no hint of warmth, just a cold, unblinking hardness. The hard gaze reminded him of his wife and he swallowed the sudden sense of fear. He had no doubt that physically he could defend himself against his wife, though he had always been brought up to believe that you never ever hit a woman. This was his downfall as Chelsea had no qualms about laying into her husband, safe in the knowledge that he would never retaliate.
‘Are you OK?’ Conway asked.
Joseph blinked his way back to the here and now. ‘Yes, Tam and Rae were good friends.’
‘And what did Tam do for a living?’
Before Joseph could answer, the kitchen door banged open and Chelsea stood in the doorway, her eyes still fogged with whisky and sleep.
‘Who the hell are you?’ she barked, stepping into the room, her hair sticking up on one side.
Joseph cringed, the anger seemed to flow from her, billowing into the room and swamping him in hideous fear. Conway stayed seated, his hands wrapped around the mug of untouched coffee.
‘I didn’t want to wake you, Chels,’ her husband said appeasingly as he slipped off the stool and stepped towards the sink. ‘The kettle’s still hot, why don’t I make you a nice cup of …?’
‘I said who the fuck are you?’ Chelsea jabbed a finger at the stranger in her kitchen.
Joseph stood between the two of them, his head moving left and right, his face pale with fear. Conway stood up slowly and drained the cup in one long swallow.
Joseph cringed as he saw his wife’s face twitching with vengeance, any second now she would lose the plot and then all bets would be off.
‘Your brother was a drug dealer and a pimp,’ Conway said as he stepped around the table, cup in hand. Joseph felt his jaw drop open in horror while his wife seemed to draw back like a snake preparing to strike. Conway took three long strides until he was standing in front of the woman, she glared up at him, teeth bared, her eyes rabid with hatred.
‘What did you say?’ she started to lift her hands, claws extended.
‘Your brother worked for a man named Rae, he makes his money selling drugs and forcing young girls into having sex with strangers. Your brother collected the cash, so in my book he’s guilty and if he wasn’t already dead then I would be looking to kill him,’ Conway tilted his head and waited for the woman to reply.
Joseph watched his wife in shocked fascination, her face writhed then she exploded towards Conway. But straightaway, she was reeling back, her nose spewing blood from where the tall man had slammed his fist into her face.
Joseph Bold gawped as she crashed back into the doorframe, part of him felt the natural urge to throw himself at the man, yet another part – a bigger part – wanted to rejoice at the sight of her sliding down the doorframe and collapsing in a heap on the floor.
‘My God, what have you done?’ Joseph whispered in awe.
Tom Conway turned and looked at Bold who stood with one hand clamped over his mouth, his eyes gleaming with a kind of bitter glee.
‘Tell me about Jimmy Rae?’ he asked, moving towards Joseph Bold.
Joseph never heard a word, his eyes were still fixed on his wife as the blood leaked from her nose, coating her candy-coloured lips bright red.
‘Rae?’ Conway repeated.
Joseph broke eye contact with Chelsea. ‘I’m sorry, what did you say?’
‘I want to know about Rae?’
‘I told you, I’ve only met the man a handful of times and he ignored me completely but if you want to see what he looks like then that’s him,’ Joseph pointed a shaking finger to a framed photograph on a kitchen shelf.
Crossing the room Conway snatched the picture down, it showed Chelsea smiling for the camera flanked on either side by two, big, hard-looking men dressed in dark suits.
‘Tam’s the one on the right, the other is Rae,’ Joseph explained.
‘What else do you know?’
‘Honestly, I know nothing, I didn’t like her brother, he was arrogant and a bully.’
‘So, you can’t help me?’ Conway asked.
‘I’m sorry, I would if I could but they never even acknowledged I existed.’
Conway sighed and looked towards the kitchen window just as it started to rain again. ‘Pity,’ he said.
‘I …’
Conway lashed out and slammed the coffee cup into the side of Joseph’s head. Joseph lurched sideways, eyes losing focus, he clattered into the sink before slamming to the floor, his hair matted with blood and slivers of porcelain.
Conway had a scrounge under the sink, finding a small bucket he wedged it under the cold-water tap. Leaving it to fill, he got out his tobacco, rolled and lit a cigarette, letting out a true addict’s contented sigh. Then, cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth, he carried the bucket across the room and tipped the cold water over Chelsea Bold’s head.
Time to talk to the organ grinder rather than the monkey.
37
Marnie looked over Bev’s shoulder as she tapped away at the keyboard. The name Tom Conway flagged up twelve possible individuals, Bev’s fingers danced over the keys as she narrowed the search to three within a thirty-mile radius of Kirkhead.
‘Do we even know if Conway lived in the area?’ Bev asked.
Grabbing a chair, Marnie sat down by her side. ‘Hard to tell, Polly Hardy said that Hall and Conway served together in the army but she had no idea if they’re from the same town.’
‘Polly Hardy?’ Bev turned in the chair, looking puzzled.
‘Yes, she works at the hostel, since Hall disappeared she seems to be running the place.’
‘I remember her now,’ Bev said. ‘Her husband died about twelve months ago, he was a doctor at Kirkhead hospital.’
‘Died how?’ Marnie asked.
‘We were called in to check it out, apparently he’d gone to work and parked on the top floor of the multi-storey. We found him at the bottom of a flight of stone steps, there was no sign of foul play, the pathologist looked for signs of a heart attack but there were none. All we could think of was that he’d slipped at the top and down he went, breaking his neck in the fall.’
Marnie pursed her lips and nodded, looking back at the screen.
Bev’s fingers hesitated over the keys and then she was tapping away again. ‘Ah, this looks promising,’ she said, opening a page that showed the address of one Tom Conway who lived less than five miles away. ‘Do we know the man’s age?’ she asked.
Marnie though for a moment. ‘John Hall is in his late thirties, so chances are Conway would be around the same age.’
Bev scrolled down the screen and then smiled. ‘This one certainly looks to be in the same age bracket.’
Marnie snatched a post-it note from the pad and scribbled the address just as DCI Reese walked into the office.
‘What are you two up to?’ he asked, walking over. While Marnie explained about the possible link between Tom Conway and Hamer
, Reese loosened his tie before perching on the edge of the desk.
‘So, Conway turned up looking for Hall and his missing daughter and Emma Winstanley gives him Hamer’s name …’
‘And then we find Hamer with his head in ruins,’ Marnie finished.
Reese pursed his lips. ‘Yes, well, the more we find out about Hamer the more it appears he moved in illegal circles.’
Bev turned slightly in her seat. ‘Do we know if he was running the brothel on his own or working for someone else?’ she asked, her short, newly-dyed, dark hair shining in the overhead strip light.
Marnie eased back in the chair and folded her arms. ‘If rumours are to be believed, then nothing much happens in this town without Jimmy Rae’s say-so.’
‘I get that but perhaps Hamer was trying to work below the radar and Rae found out about it?’ Bev offered.
Reese looked at Marnie and raised an eyebrow.
Marnie nodded. ‘With the way things are at the moment for Rae, he might well come down heavy on anyone he thinks is trying to stitch him up even on a small scale.’
Reese glanced at the screen before looking back at Marnie. ‘Right, you have an address for Conway, I want you over there early doors, have a word with the man and see what you can find out.’
Bev reached out and turned the computer off as Marnie stood up and stretched her arms to the ceiling, breaking out in a yawn at the same time.
‘If anything turns up in the meantime I’ll give you a ring,’ he said to Marnie as she lifted her jacket from the back of the chair.
‘No problem,’ she answered as the three of them headed through the deserted building.
At reception, Marnie paused to look at the notice board, the picture on the left showed John Hall smiling for the camera, the picture of his daughter had been pinned slightly to one side, she looked to be around twelve or thirteen.
For the first time, Marnie studied the girl, long fair hair pulled back in a neat ponytail, freckles spread over both her cheeks, like her father she sported a wide grin.
Cut The Threads Page 11
