Gallows Drop

by Mari Hannah

  ‘Of course I’m keeping it.’ She looked horrified at the suggestion that she might consider the alternative. ‘I’m not having an abortion, if that’s what you’re thinking, so don’t even go there!’

  ‘If that’s your decision.’

  ‘It is.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ He had to try.

  When the inevitable happened and her mother was gone, he wasn’t looking after Foster’s sprog. There were reasons that it was never going to happen – reasons he’d held onto for years . . .

  None he cared to share with Beth.

  ‘You’ve got your whole life ahead of you,’ he said. ‘Looking after kids ain’t easy—’

  ‘Yeah, like you’d know.’

  He poured himself a drink, two fingers of neat whisky. She’d been there less than ten minutes and already they were at each other’s throats. This was never going to work.

  He saw the drink off and tried again. ‘Look, I admit I’ve made mistakes—’

  ‘Mistakes? Is that what you call them?’

  ‘It was a long time ago, Beth.’

  ‘Yeah, my whole life,’ she bit back. ‘Thanks for nothing.’

  ‘Beth, I don’t want to fight with you. There’s been enough of that around here lately.’ He took in her scowl. She wasn’t swallowing the deception. The stupid bitch was savvy, like her mother – more than he’d given her credit for. He wondered what rubbish Daniels had been feeding her this time.

  ‘You think on it,’ he said. ‘I’ll support whatever choice you make. I want to forget the arguments. We owe it to ourselves, to your mum, to be a family again.’

  She glanced sideways at him. ‘That sounds so weird, coming from you.’

  It did.

  Which was why she’d never go to term. Not if he had anything to do with it. If the mad cow insisted on going through with the pregnancy, she was on her own. As soon as she was well enough, he’d find her a flat and send her packing. He’d help out financially, of course – he wasn’t a monster – but his days of caring for rug rats were over.

  She’d made her bed . . .

  Beth was staring at him. ‘Did you mean what you said before?’

  She was so gullible. ‘Of course.’

  ‘Why should I believe you? You’ve been saying it for years to Mum. I heard you. You never followed through, not once, even when she begged you. Even when you found out she wasn’t well. I don’t know why she even talks to you.’

  ‘People change, Beth.’

  ‘Not you.’

  ‘I won’t if you don’t give me a chance. Think about it. We could move away . . . not far, to Newcastle maybe. It would be perfect, a completely fresh start.’

  ‘What?’ She glared at him. ‘No! I have a home with Mum. I don’t want to move.’

  ‘It would be for the best. That way people wouldn’t know—’

  ‘That I’m pregnant?’ She looked like she wanted to smash his face in. ‘You’re despicable! I hate you.’

  ‘I’m trying to help you!’ Atkins slopped more whisky into his glass and put the bottle back without replacing the top. This was not going well. ‘Meet me halfway. You’re going to be a mum. Think of the baby and not yourself. With Elliott gone, you’re going to need my support.’

  ‘I need nothing from you.’

  ‘Well, I’m all you’ve got. You’re going to have to take it or leave it.’

  ‘I’ll leave it then,’ Beth said defiantly. ‘He’s not the father—’

  ‘Excuse me?’ Atkins’ stomach dropped.

  ‘Elliott. He’s not the father.’

  The glass flew across the room, smashing against the wall.

  59

  There was a hierarchy of actions in any murder enquiry. In the early stages of a case, investigators dealt with only those of the highest priority. The rest had to wait. Having exhausted all actions concerning Gardner, Kate and Hank turned their attention to those specifically related to Collins.

  ‘You wanna go first?’ Hank asked.

  ‘OK.’ Kate ticked the points off on her fingers. ‘Collins had motive, possibly the means and opportunity. Beth was upset after the fight and wanted to be alone. At her own admission, she dropped him at home in Otterburn. But his mother was working that night – I checked with her employer – which means he has no one to vouch for him after that.’

  It was hot in her office. Hank got up and opened the window. ‘Atkins didn’t disclose his source?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘I’ll ask him about it when I see him later.’

  ‘Good luck with that. I’m coming too.’

  ‘There’s no need—’

  ‘There’s every need.’

  Kate didn’t argue. His mind was made up and hers was still on the lad with form she’d bailed that morning. She was running out of time and had no evidence to detain him any longer. ‘We’re five days in without a lead,’ she said. ‘We have to consider the possibility that the intelligence on Collins conjured up by Atkins may be true. The lad is strong. He works in a meat processing plant hauling animal carcasses all day long. He may or may not work on a farm and have access to rope or machinery – a quad bike – and he admits to being involved in the fight.’

  Accessing the HOLMES database, Kate began to type, calling up all actions associated with the lad. As she scrolled through digital pages, originators’ names appeared, listed in chronological order in the centre of her computer screen. Atkins was at the top, Jo a close second. Intrigued, Kate clicked on her name.

  ‘Come and look at this,’ she said.

  Hank stood up, dragging his seat round to her side of the desk, his eyes seizing on the information in front of him. On day one of the enquiry, Jo had asked for information on Collins. It had them both wondering why.

  Kate looked at him. ‘Did you know she’d instigated an enquiry into him?’

  He was shaking his head. ‘I didn’t know she’d even looked at the case.’

  ‘Me either.’

  Kate glanced at her phone, a text from Jo entering her head: I’m in the incident room. Last-minute admin if you can get away. I was thinking pre-holiday drink. ‘Although technically on leave, she was here on Monday . . .’ Kate paused as an earlier memory clicked into place: This Atkins guy who’s giving you grief? Why don’t I know about him? I thought I knew all your secrets. ‘If I’m not wrong, she was here on Sunday too,’ Kate said. ‘She spoke to Lisa. Get her in here.’

  Hank picked up the phone and called Carmichael’s extension. ‘Can you join us for a second, Lisa . . . the boss’s office, soon as you can . . . Yeah, won’t keep you long.’

  Seconds later, she arrived.

  ‘Shut the door and take a seat,’ he said.

  His protégé was immediately on her guard.

  Kate had never seen her so worried. ‘I gather you and Jo had words about the case when she popped in on Sunday. She and I had a brief conversation afterwards about the Angry Man.’

  Carmichael blushed like a kid who’d been caught telling tales. Kate tried to reassure her. ‘Don’t worry, Lisa. Do you know if Jo looked at the case papers when she was here?’

  ‘Not to my knowledge, why?’

  ‘So you can’t throw any light on why she might have wanted more detailed information on Collins?’

  Carmichael shook her head. ‘Have I done something wrong, boss?’

  ‘No,’ Kate said. ‘I find it curious, that’s all.’

  ‘She did glance through what was on my desk on Monday,’ Carmichael remembered. ‘We hardly spoke though. I was on the phone. She said something about Collins’ name ringing a bell.’

  Kate was curious. ‘She never told me.’

  ‘Maybe it slipped her mind.’

  ‘Nothing slips her mind.’

  Carmichael’s eyes shifted to Hank. He was her supervisor, the one she wanted to impress. Her evaluation was due soon. She’d passed her sergeant’s exam and was hoping to progress a rank in the next round of promotions. She transferred her focus to
Kate. ‘As I said, I was otherwise engaged. Jo was waiting to see you. She said something about a client at the Regional Psychology Service with the same name. I think she said she’d look into it if she had time before you went on leave.’

  Except she didn’t have time . . .

  She was busy caring for my dad.

  ‘Did she say anything else?’ Kate asked. ‘It could be important.’

  Carmichael thought for a moment. ‘I might be totally wrong, so don’t quote me on it. I think she said something about Collins’ state of mind at the time his offences were committed. That if it was the same lad, he might even have been the subject of profiling by one of her colleagues.’

  Hank narrowed his eyes and spoke in a fake Belgian accent. ‘Then we have the work serious to do, Miss Lemon.’

  Carmichael looked at Kate.

  She grinned. ‘He’s channelling his inner Poirot.’

  Lisa laughed. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be clearer. The person I was talking to on the phone was giving me earache at the time. I was only half-listening to Jo, and she’d gone by the time I hung up.’

  Kate was about to dismiss her when Carmichael spoke again . . .

  ‘The address—’

  Hank raised his head. ‘What about it?’

  ‘It was different,’ she said. ‘She checked out his address and I got the impression it was another lad altogether. It’s a common enough name. I thought nothing of it after that.’

  ‘That’s it then,’ Hank said.

  ‘That’s what then?’ Carmichael was confused.

  ‘For reasons unknown to us, she requested further enquiries into Collins’ background,’ Kate explained. ‘Do you know if she checked his date of birth against this other guy?’

  ‘I’m sorry, no.’

  ‘That’s probably why she wanted to flag him up then.’

  ‘So why didn’t she follow through?’ Carmichael said. ‘You know what she’s like. If he had form for violence—’

  ‘He only beats up females,’ Kate interrupted. ‘She probably ruled him out as a candidate for Elliott’s murder. It’s not really his style.’

  Carmichael looked relieved. ‘He was low priority at the time. Jo’s request was too.’

  ‘No need to justify it.’ Kate reassured her. ‘Everything is fine, Lisa. Those sergeant’s stripes will look good on you. You can go now.’ As her office door closed, Kate grinned at Hank. ‘Remind you of anyone?’ she said.

  60

  Kate hated loose ends. Her concern over Collins remained on her mind throughout the journey to Atkins’ place. She tried contacting Jo en route. The call went straight to voicemail. When finally she arrived, Kate tried again with the same result. She left a message, put her phone away and got out of the car.

  ‘No joy?’ Hank asked.

  She shook her head, slamming the car door with more force than she’d normally use. Hank followed suit, the passenger door thudding closed. They crossed the road, heading for the apartment block, his attempt at making her feel better sounding hollow.

  ‘It was probably a coincidence,’ he said. ‘Lisa hinted that she was in two minds.’

  Kate raised a sceptical eyebrow. He didn’t believe in coincidence any more than she did. Jo had originated the action on Collins for a reason. Until Kate discovered exactly what it was, she wouldn’t rest. What’s more, he knew it. That didn’t stop him trying to convince her.

  ‘Probably a different lad,’ he said.

  Kate glanced at him. ‘That’s as bad as a definite maybe. Let’s stick with facts and certainties, shall we? I’ll call her again later and see what she has to say.’ They had reached the entrance.

  ‘Waste of time,’ Hank said. ‘When has Jo ever raised a query and left it unresolved?’

  Kate tried the buzzer to Atkins’ flat. ‘She might have been distracted.’

  ‘Doing what? You said yourself she doesn’t forget things.’

  ‘She doesn’t.’ Kate didn’t turn her head to look at him. ‘But she was on starter’s orders because we were going away—’

  ‘Even so, she’s too much of a pro not to follow through.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Kate hadn’t the energy to argue over it.

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ Hank said. ‘Maybe you should try her again?’

  ‘Stop interfering.’

  He put a hand to his chest pleading innocence.

  Kate narrowed her eyes as if to say: it won’t wash. ‘I know what it is you’re trying to do, Hank, but don’t waste your energy. She’s still angry with me. I can feel it. She probably thinks I’m going cap in hand, begging for forgiveness she doesn’t want to hear, let alone give. Anyway, she’d be wrong. Dead wrong. Life is too short. I’m moving on. Say hello to the new Kate Daniels.’

  A young woman approached, ending their conversation. She buzzed another flat, gaining entry immediately. She was about to close the door on them when Hank got hold of it, flashing ID. The girl glanced at it and walked in ahead of them.

  They all heard yelling immediately, a slanging match, as audible from without as within Atkins’ apartment. The young woman who’d let them in lingered, disturbed by the commotion but giving the impression that it wasn’t the first time. ‘Sounds nasty,’ she said. ‘Noise pollution bods would have a field day. Hope you’ve got your body armour with you.’

  ‘There’s nothing to see here,’ Kate said.

  ‘Just being friendly.’ The girl moved away.

  Kate exchanged a look with Hank. Whatever was going down inside wasn’t good. The door to Atkins’ place was locked. Kate rang the bell. When no one answered, she kneeled down, lifted the brass flap of the letter box and peered in. The hallway was empty, the door to the living room open. She couldn’t get a visual on Atkins or Beth.

  Sound was another matter.

  The din was appalling.

  Atkins was out of control, yelling like a madman: ‘The same Chris Collins languishing in police cells as we speak? You have got to be joking, Beth! Well, I’m telling you now, you can forget having his bastard. The kid is a moron—’

  ‘Takes one to know one. I will have his baby and you’ll never see it—’

  Kate called out to them.

  No response whatsoever.

  She rapped on the door with her fist and rang the bell again, keeping her finger on the buzzer. Neither one came to answer. This was not going well. Taking her mobile from her pocket, she called Atkins. On her knees once more, she opened the letter-box flap again and heard his mobile ring out in the apartment.

  The ringing stopped as he declined the call . . .

  He was winding up to something . . .

  They needed to get in there.

  ‘For Christ’s sake!’ he said. ‘Collins has convictions for violence against women.’

  ‘You’re lying! If he had you would have told me—’

  ‘I’m a policeman, Beth. At least I was – I’m not so sure now – I’m not allowed to tell you.’

  Beth hesitated.

  Outside, Kate knew why. She’d warned her about Collins. Maybe Beth was beginning to accept the truth.

  ‘Beth, please don’t cry.’

  ‘Tell me the truth.’

  ‘OK, fine! He’s a thug who glassed his lass with a bottle. She lost an eye. I’m trying to protect you—’

  ‘I don’t believe you! He’d never do that.’ Beth was sobbing. ‘You’re the one who’s the bully—’

  ‘And you’re a slag, like your mother!’

  Outside the apartment, Kate glanced at Hank. ‘So much for reconciliation.’

  ‘The man is delusional,’ Hank said.

  Kate continued listening . . .

  ‘I’m ringing Mum,’ Beth said.

  ‘Like hell you are,’ Atkins raised his voice even further. ‘Put down that phone. Give it to me!’

  Kate heard a scuffle, something falling to the floor.

  ‘Atkins! It’s Daniels! Open the door!’ And still the argument raged inside with no sign of abating. T
he idiot had asked Kate there. What the hell was he playing at? She counted to ten and then stood up, eyes on Hank. ‘He’s had long enough. Kick it in.’

  As the door burst open, Beth ran out of the living room and down the hallway towards them, like a rerun of the time she’d called the police on her parents all those years ago. She reached the front door ahead of her father.

  Hank stepped in between them, shielding her.

  ‘Back off!’ he said. ‘Gimme a reason to deck you and believe me, I’ll take it.’ Hank was right in Atkins’ face, daring him to take a step closer, in danger of sticking the nut on him.

  ‘Beth, are you OK?’ Kate could see she wasn’t. She was in a state, reliving a terrible nightmare. She was shaking violently, mascara running down a blotchy face, eyes red and desperately unhappy. History was repeating itself. Kate too was back in the pouring rain, holding the hand of a child she’d never seen before. ‘Go to your room and stay there please, Beth. I need a word with your father.’

  ‘You stay put,’ Atkins barked at his daughter. ‘I’m not finished with you.’

  ‘And I’m not finished with you,’ Hank said. ‘Now piss off and calm down.’

  ‘Hank, go with Beth.’

  Gormley hesitated.

  Kate’s eyes held a warning not to undermine her authority by defying her in front of Atkins. Seeing her determination to handle him alone, Hank yielded and led Beth along the hallway to her room. Once the door was closed, Atkins launched a ferocious verbal attack, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t be overheard.

  ‘Get out of my house and take my daughter with you! She can rot in hell as far as I’m concerned. I’m not playing happy families with Collins’ kid. Not now. Not ever.’

  ‘You’re a disgrace. Unfit to be her father.’

  As Atkins lifted a hand to slap her, Kate deflected his arm, delivering the same blow she’d used as a nineteen-year-old rookie under his command. It sent him reeling backwards and on to the floor. ‘You missed it once . . .’ She stepped over him. ‘You should’ve learned to duck.’