by Bill Kitson
He stood alongside an ancient oak tree. This, at least, was unchanged. It was in precisely this spot that Stacey’s naked body had been found, her beauty disfigured by the bloated effects of the strangulation. Vickers thought fleetingly of Nash. He remembered the phrase about a murderer returning to the scene of his crime. Was that what Nash would think?
He shook his head to clear his brain. Thinking of the past, repining for his actions was something he’d taught himself to avoid. Now was no time to start. Not even here, when the reminders were most potent. He had to start searching.
Gasping slightly from the unfamiliar exertion, he straightened his back; heard someone approaching. Indecision gripped him momentarily. Should he hide and hope they failed to spot him? He couldn’t afford to be found here, of all places. Better to leave. He set off walking, glancing nervously over his shoulder, and rejoined the path. Fear of discovery prevented him lingering. Only when he was well clear of this spot would he feel any degree of safety.
Tucker was almost taken by surprise. The vehicle was not the one he’d been expecting. He’d been looking for the sleek lines of a Mercedes, not the squat functionality of a Land Rover. It was only when the vehicle slowed that he caught a glimpse of the driver. The Land Rover was almost out of sight when he set off in pursuit.
Long before they reached the destination, Tucker guessed where they were heading. ‘So it’s the woods not the moors today is it?’ He glanced at the dashboard clock. 4.30 p.m. Well, why not, he thought. A spot of afternoon delight. Can’t beat it. On the other hand, it might not be Gemma that Rathmell was going to meet. Tucker cursed. He wished he’d got the eavesdropping equipment. If the meeting was political, not sexual, he’d have given a fortune to overhear what Rathmell was discussing.
He saw Rathmell swing into the car park. This time Tucker wasn’t going to be caught napping and pulled off the road onto the farm track. He reckoned he could make his way along the river bank and come on the clearing from the opposite side.
The plan worked. Tucker reached the edge of the clearing before Rathmell came in sight. He took up position and waited. Five minutes later he heard the sound of someone approaching. The reporter lifted his camera and held it ready. He focused on the narrow path as the footsteps drew nearer. When he saw who it was, Tucker stared in amazement, realizing the significance of the man and his presence there. He recovered quickly and squeezed off a couple of shots. This time his subject was much nearer, but so was the river; hopefully drowning out the noise from the camera motor. The man stopped, raised his head and turned, as if alerted by the sound. Tucker dived behind the undergrowth.
Becky Pollard emerged from the unofficial board meeting shortly after 5 p.m. She’d all but forgotten JT’s parcel until the receptionist stopped her. ‘I tried to get hold of JT on both his mobile and his home number. No luck on either. Did you want me to leave a message?’
‘It’s alright, I’ll do it.’ She found JT in her mobile contacts as she crossed the car park. Predictably, the phone went straight to voice mail. ‘JT, Becky again. That parcel’s in reception at the Gazette. Pick it up when you can. Cheers.’
She was surprised JT hadn’t replied to her earlier messages. She knew he was following up on a story he felt was likely to be a big one. Even so, she thought he’d have been in touch by now, if only to chase the kit he wanted.
Nash sent patrol cars out hunting for Vickers but without success. Although they scoured the town from end to end, they reported no sighting of the missing man. ‘Where the hell’s he got to? He can’t have gone unseen. Helmsdale’s not big enough for that. Not with the cars we’ve had whizzing around.’
‘He might have gone shopping, or gone to the pub.’ Mironova attempted to calm him.
‘He went shopping on Sunday. And I don’t think he’s the type to go on a pub crawl. No, he’s either indoors, and who would he visit, or ...?’
‘Or what?’
‘Or he’s left Helmsdale altogether.’
‘That means catching a bus. Our men checked the bus station a couple of times. I don’t think there’s a train stops at Helmsdale until the evening ones, from about 5.15.’
‘He might have taken a taxi,’ Pearce interjected.
‘I checked with Helm Cabs. They’ve nothing booked this afternoon except a couple of school runs and a patient transfer to Netherdale General.’
‘So he’s vanished into thin air, has he? Clara, you’ve read the file. I don’t remember seeing a note about any family or friends, do you?’
Mironova shook her head. ‘Vickers was an only child. There were no other family members listed. What do we do now?’
‘There’s no point all of us kicking our heels here.’ Nash glanced at his watch. ‘It’s almost six o’clock. I might as well take up my shift. I can take care of the house even though I’ve nobody to protect. Go back to the station. Tell the uniforms to keep searching. Send our colleague back to Bishopton. I’ll ring him if he’s needed tomorrow. If Vickers doesn’t turn up there’s no point.’
Once they’d gone Nash wandered from room to room. The house seemed oddly silent. Outside there was plenty of activity as neighbours arrived home from work. He could hear the sound of children laughing and running up and down the pavement. Why had Vickers’ departure been so sudden? Or was it planned? Nash was beginning to believe Vickers had every move worked out in advance.
His wandering took him to the first floor. He looked in the front bedroom. It was large and well appointed, with fitted wardrobes and a comfortable double bed. A door led to an en-suite shower room. It was better than the room Vickers had slept in. Nash opened the wardrobe doors to find men’s clothing on hangers, mostly shirts, slacks and jeans. They looked expensive, but dated. The rest of the wardrobe was empty, although there were several hangers suspended from the rail. Some of these were skirt hangers. Probably they’d held Gemma’s clothing before she moved out. It was a similar story with the drawers: men’s underwear and socks but no feminine clothing.
Nash sat on the bed. Something was puzzling here. Why had Vickers opted to sleep in the smaller, less comfortable room? What was it he’d said? ‘That room is the only place in this house where I can be certain of a good night’s sleep.’ Why would he feel more comfortable in the room of his victim than the one he’d shared with his lover? Nash added this to the growing list of questions he wanted to ask Vickers. The need to find him was doubly urgent. Nash hoped it wouldn’t be too late.
Chapter fourteen
Nash’s concern was mounting. Despite constant patrols through the town there were no reported sightings. It was with a mixture of anger and relief that he heard the front door open shortly after 7 p.m. Nash went from the kitchen, where he’d been nursing a mug of coffee, his pace almost a run. He stopped dead in the doorway. Vickers was standing in the hall. His face, hands and clothing were stained with what looked like soil and grass. And something else perhaps. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Nash demanded.
Vickers looked vaguely shamefaced. ‘I’ve been looking for something.’ As an explanation, it was way short of detail.
‘Why did you run away?’
‘I wasn’t running away. I came back, didn’t I? I needed to go alone. I’m not under arrest. I’ve done my time. What’s the problem?’
‘That depends. The officer was here for your protection. What do you think would have happened if you’d been recognized by someone like Jake Fletcher?’
‘I wasn’t. Relax, everything’s alright. I’m going to get cleaned up and change my clothes.’ He started to walk towards the stairs.
‘Aren’t you going to tell me what you’ve been up to?’
Vickers turned, one hand on the banister rail. He gave Nash a long, curious look before replying. ‘No, I don’t think so.’
Nash stared at the retreating figure in exasperation. Maybe he’d get more from him later.
After they’d dined, Nash began questioning him. ‘In Felling, you promised you’d tell me more about wha
t happened once you were back here. I want to know your version. All I’ve had so far is the official report and a few vague hints from you.’
‘I don’t know where to begin.’
‘Tell me how it all started?’
‘With Gemma, you mean?’
Nash nodded.
‘I’d been alone too long. My parents died when I was fourteen. They were on their way to see me at boarding school. Their car was cleaned up by a drunk driver. They were killed instantaneously. He got off with a few scratches, a three-year sentence and a ten-year driving ban.’
‘It still hurts?’
‘Of course it bloody does. Anyway, I was twenty-one when I met Gemma. I’d had little or nothing to do with girls. I was at Netherdale College, just finished a three year arts course. It was the day of the graduation ceremony. Gemma was there making notes for an advertising feature. We got talking and I was fascinated by her. Okay, she was a lot older than me. Thirteen years to be precise. It didn’t seem to matter. I still don’t know how I plucked up courage to ask her out, but I did. She seemed so sophisticated; I was astonished when she said yes. I think she was flattered she could attract someone that much younger. One thing led to another and we became lovers. I asked her to move in with me. To begin with it was terrific.’ Vickers grinned. ‘Exhausting but fun. However, that was at the start and it didn’t take long for us to realize we’d made a mistake. Once the passion was gone we’d little in common. Gemma didn’t want love. Not the love of someone like me at any rate. She did want sex. She was too overpowering.’
Vickers paused. ‘I wanted to end it but couldn’t pluck up courage. Believe it or not, I was scared of her. I hadn’t enough experience to deal with a woman like Gemma. She moved out of my room to the one at the back of the house.’
‘When did you meet Stacey?’
‘That came later. I didn’t even know Gemma had a daughter. Apparently Stacey was the result of a one-night stand when Gemma was sixteen. Stacey told me that. Told me her mother used to throw it at her, like an accusation. Stacey had been away on a Gap year before going to university. She’d been working in Malaysia. It came as quite a shock when Gemma got a phone call one day. She’d been living here nine months or so when Stacey arrived home. I took one look at her and fell head over heels in love.’
‘Did Gemma know?’
Vickers shuddered. ‘I don’t think so. I’m not sure, in view of what happened later. I certainly wouldn’t have dared tell her.’
‘What about Stacey? She must have known how things were between you and her mother. Or how they had been?’
Vickers smiled and Nash realized it was the first time he’d had shown anything like pleasure. ‘I didn’t know for a while, but apparently she felt the same about me.’
‘It sounds like a highly explosive situation.’
‘You’re not kidding. Gemma has a ferocious temper. If she’d even caught a whiff of how Stacey and I felt, she’d have gone berserk.’
‘Even though she no longer wanted you?’
‘That’s how Gemma is. By then I was sure she was involved with someone else. She’d come back sometimes with a sort of glow about her. I recognized that look. It meant she’d been making love. She thought she had to keep it from me, in case I chucked her out, I guess. She didn’t know it suited me fine. I could be close to Stacey.’ Vickers saw the question forming and shook his head. ‘No, I’ve no idea who her new lover was. I was so taken up with Stacey, nothing and nobody else mattered. It served one useful purpose. It blinded Gemma from what was going on.’
‘You became lovers whilst her mother was living in the same house?’
‘Dead right; we’d wait until Gemma went to work and within five minutes we’d be in bed. We nearly got caught a couple of times. It used to bother us that we couldn’t hold hands or kiss one another when we wanted.’
Nash studied him for a moment. ‘Okay, you’ve nothing to gain by lying. You’ve done your time. The law can’t touch you. So answer me this. Did you kill Stacey?’
Vickers looked at him for a long time, then sighed. ‘No, I loved her too much to hurt her. I neither raped nor killed her. We’d been so bloody careful; I still don’t believe anyone knew about us. The fact that we were sleeping together, I mean. When all that forensic evidence came out at my trial, it must have seemed like manna from heaven for the prosecution. I was in the classic position for a fall guy, wasn’t I? Left alone for long periods with a beautiful young girl; unable to control my desire. Well, that was true enough, but not the way they made it sound.
‘The fact was, Stacey’s feelings for me were just as strong, just as physical, as mine were for her; more so at times. But the prosecution made it all sound so dirty, so sordid. As if I was some kind of pervert; peeping through the keyhole whilst she got her kit off, then bursting in and raping her. It just didn’t happen that way. They suggested I raped her repeatedly then got scared of the consequences. Scared she’d tell her mother. Scared of what Jake and Ronnie would do. The last thing Stacey was going to do was tell her mother about us. But to the prosecution and the jury, it must have seemed the only logical explanation.
‘Even though the jury didn’t know what a fearsome reputation Jake and Ronnie Fletcher had, they’d seen them in court, and drawn their own conclusions. It’s hardly surprising the police and CPS didn’t bother looking any further, is it?’
Nash studied him again. ‘If what you told me about your affair is true, it would certainly explain that damaging forensic evidence. If you didn’t kill her, who did? And, if you didn’t kill her, why keep quiet about it at your trial? Why didn’t you ask for the evidence to be re-examined? You certainly made a nuisance of yourself in other ways, so why no appeal? It seemed to me when I read your file that you might have been protecting someone. Who was it, Gary? Who do you believe murdered Stacey?’
Vickers remained silent for so long, Nash thought he wasn’t going to answer. Then he shuffled uncomfortably in his chair. ‘You’re the first person to ask that. The only one who’s seen beyond the evidence. The reason I insisted on coming here was to find out the truth about who killed Stacey.’
‘But you suspect someone, don’t you?’
There was another pause. ‘Yes and no. I thought at the time that Gemma killed her. But I wasn’t thinking straight. I was grieving and felt guilty; guilty that I hadn’t been able to protect Stacey. Don’t ask me why I believed it was Gemma. I tried to find out who was behind the attempts to kill me in prison, but I couldn’t make any headway. All I was able to do was send a message that if they wanted me to keep quiet, they’d lay off. The fact that the attacks ceased convinced me I was right. I say I suspected Gemma, but I’ve no real proof. Don’t think I haven’t asked myself the question a hundred, a thousand times. I always come up against the same stumbling block. What motive would Gemma have for killing her daughter? At one time it could have been jealousy, but Gemma had long given up on me. And if it was because she found out I’d deflowered her daughter, to use a quaint old-fashioned phrase, why kill Stacey? Why not come after the man who’d done it? Why not set Jake and Ronnie on me? They’d have done a far more thorough job. Jake, in particular, he doted on Stacey.’
‘You say you’ve no proof. But that’s what you’ve been looking for, isn’t it? You believe there is some.’
‘I’m not sure. I think there was something. I don’t know what it was, or if it’s been destroyed.’ Vickers sighed. ‘Look, can we finish this? I’m tired and I want to go to bed.’ Nash glanced at the clock and was surprised to find it was almost midnight.
Alone in the kitchen, Nash mulled over what Vickers had told him. As an explanation it was convincing; as far as it went. But he was certain there was more; sure Vickers hadn’t told him everything. Things Nash was determined to find out.
He was halfway to believing Vickers’ version of events. Which was all very well, but proving him innocent would be quite another matter. Keeping him alive until the question of guilt could be resolved
was going to be challenge enough.
The night proved uneventful. Nash left the chastened Bishopton officer in charge of their subject and headed home. After a long shower he felt more refreshed. By 9 a.m. he was in the CID suite. Apart from post-mortem findings on the knife victim, there was little to engage his attention. As Mironova was likewise less than stretched, Nash decided he could afford a break. ‘I’m going to clear off early,’ he told her as they sat with their sandwiches at lunchtime. ‘Viv will be in later this afternoon. I’m going to get my head down for a few hours. I’m getting too old for long stints without sleep.’
Clara grinned. ‘I thought with your social life you’d be used to sleepless nights.’
‘That’s totally different. Anyway there’s no chance of that at present.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re actually reduced to celibacy?’
‘Clara!’ Nash scowled. ‘Go do some work. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ He yawned. ‘I’m going to bed. Alone,’ he added hastily.
Although Nash was weary he didn’t manage much sleep. By 7 p.m. he was up and about, wondering if he could summon the energy to make himself a meal or whether to opt for a takeaway. In the end he decided on the bold option and set off for La Giaconda.
He’d finished his meal and was chatting to Gino when his mobile rang. He glanced at the screen. ‘Yes, Clara, what is it?’ He listened for a moment. ‘Can you pick me up? I’ll be outside La Giaconda. I’ve had a couple of glasses of wine and I’m on foot. Okay?’
