by Gwyn GB
‘The yard can’t run without you being there, Scott. Leave Craig and we can head back and talk to Richard.’
Harrison could see the tug of war between his loyalty to Richard and the obsession with killing The Horsemen.
Scott wavered. Then the movement of Jack crowning the top of the ladder made him turn. He tightened the noose around Craig’s neck and got ready to shove him over the ledge. Jack rushed at him in a desperate attempt to reach him before he could push Craig over.
As Jack grabbed his arms, Scott kicked out with one final shove at Craig. Pushing his unconscious body over the edge.
There was a loud thump as both Jack and Scott hit the deck of the wooden hay loft platform. Jack on top.
‘Scott Smith, I’m arresting you for the suspected murders of Paul Lester and Sam Brown.’ He wrestled some handcuffs onto the squirming Scott. ‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Grateful that he was the larger man, Jack pulled Scott into a position where he could handcuff him to the ring that held the other end of the hanging rope. As soon as Scott was secure, Jack took a few deep breaths and turned to look over the edge with dread. He expected to see Craig Matlock swinging mid-air, neck broken or his face gradually reddening as the rope crushed his airways.
Instead, he saw the tall, muscular frame of Harrison Lane, straining to hold Craig’s unconscious body so that the rope remained limp, and the noose stayed loose around his neck.
Harrison looked up at Jack, his face red with the exertion.
‘A hand down here would be good,’ he said. ‘In your own time.’
32
Harrison and Jack released the noose from Craig’s neck and got him to the ground in safety. He still had a relatively strong pulse, but a gash on the back of his head suggested Scott had knocked him unconscious.
Before Jack even had the chance to call it in, the patrol car arrived outside, and the officers were quickly on their radios for paramedic support.
Both Jack and Harrison were grateful to be able to sit down while the ambulance crew attended to Craig. The huge rush of adrenaline, combined with the physical effort, had drained them.
They watched as the paramedics worked on Craig.
‘His vital signs are strong,’ one of them said. ‘He’ll be fine.’
‘Are you OK?’ Jack asked Harrison.
He’d been rubbing his arms and rolling his shoulders.
‘I’m fine. It was a bit of a jolt catching Craig, but I’m OK, no real damage done. Luckily it wasn’t a big drop.’
The uniformed officers retrieved Scott down from the hayloft and took him into custody.
‘That will be an insanity plea,’ Jack muttered after he’d walked out.
‘Probably. He needs proper treatment. I think he has some kind of post-traumatic stress disorder after the accident. They got him walking again, but they didn’t deal with the mental injuries.’
‘You do realise that Scott’s now going to be even more convinced that The Horsemen are immortal,’ said Jack. ‘As far as he was concerned, he pushed Craig off that edge to his death.’
‘I don’t think Craig will need to worry about Scott anymore.’
‘Any sign of O’Neil?’ Jack asked.
‘Not yet.’
‘I can tell by your voice that you’re looking forward to seeing the expression on his face, as much as I am, when he realises we’ve solved his case for him,’ Jack smirked.
Harrison raised an eyebrow and gave a wry smile back.
‘It’s been a successful week all round for me.’ Jack smiled, thinking about Marie.
‘Indeed, but I need to head back to London in the morning. I’ve done what I came to do,’ Harrison said to Jack.
‘I’ll stay here until the end of the week. It’s doing Marie the world of good, and I’ll need to deal with all the paperwork anyway.’
Harrison’s mind had wandered back to thoughts of Tanya. It reminded him that he hadn’t checked his phone in a while. Hadn’t there been someone trying to ring him earlier? He pulled his phone from his pocket. Two missed calls came up. Both were from Tanya.
He dialled back immediately.
There was no reply.
He dialled again.
‘Everything OK?’ Jack asked. Harrison’s face had lost the earlier relief and humour. He looked worried.
‘I missed a couple of calls from Tanya,’ Harrison replied. ‘Now she’s not answering.’
‘She’s probably in a meeting or at a job,’ Jack reassured him.
‘I promised to be available,’ Harrison replied. He searched for DCI Barker’s number and dialled.
‘Harrison, I was about to call you,’ DCI Barker answered her phone. She sounded a little breathy. In Harrison’s experience, that was rarely a good thing. It indicated heightened stress levels.
‘Tanya’s stalker failed to turn up for his appointment and now we aren’t having any luck in contacting her. I spoke to her earlier and she said she was fine, but she didn’t go back to her friend’s house. Has she called you?’
Harrison’s heart froze. She’d called him twice. She was in trouble.
‘She called earlier. I couldn’t answer.’
‘Don’t worry. I’m sure she’s fine we’re dealing with it. We’ll find her.’
Harrison had never checked out of a hotel so fast. Jack had instructed one of the uniformed officers to drive him back to the station on blue lights. Once there, he’d got straight on his bike. He had no remorse running off like this. He’d done what he’d promised to do. The rest was police work. Jack could take care of the interviews, he understood the case. He needed to be in London, where he should have been when Tanya had needed him.
The ride down to London was hell. He couldn’t look at his phone, so he had no idea if anyone was trying to call him again, and he couldn’t try to ring Tanya to see if she was OK. All the way, a thousand different scenarios were going through his mind. The cold, dead eyes of the Scottish sociopath filled his head and each time they were looking at a terrified Tanya, helpless, immobilised. About to meet her death.
The grip of fear and guilt for not being there froze his heart and clawed at his insides. This was exactly the reason why he avoided relationships. The pain and sense of responsibility was overwhelming.
The minute he arrived on the outskirts of London and was able to pull over, he checked his phone. Nothing. He called Tanya’s mobile. No reply. He rang DCI Barker. No reply.
He couldn’t waste any more time, he had to carry on.
The London traffic was more frustrating than ever. Every selfish driver seemed to be out on the roads, determined not to let motorbikes through. He nearly scratched the side of one car, but he didn’t care. The driver shouted at him through the window. A string of expletives in a heavy foreign accent. He rode on regardless.
Tanya could be petrified, being held captive. Injured, or worse still. If anything had happened to her, he would never forgive himself.
Why hadn’t he answered his phone earlier. He’d told her to call if she needed him. He’d promised to be there for her.
Where would he have taken her? Should he go to her friend’s flat? That’s where she should be. No, DCI Barker said they’d tried there. Maybe her flat? She could be anywhere in London. He might have snatched her from the streets or lured her to a location somewhere that nobody could hear her scream.
He didn’t know enough about the man yet, but the most obvious place was going to be her flat. There, he could terrify her in her own place of safety. The place he’d been watching and probably fantasising about getting inside. Would DCI Barker have sent someone to her flat already? Or was Tanya locked in there with him, too scared to call out, or gagged and bound, awaiting death?
Harrison made a decision. He would start at the beginning of the trail. He would go to her flat. He would find her. He h
ad to.
Every yard on his bike seemed to take forever. He wished each road to pass by quicker. Prayed for the traffic lights to stay green. Risked death by pulling out in front of buses and lorries.
Harrison was just minutes away. He could see her flat in his mind’s eye. He willed himself to get there faster.
Finally, he started to recognise the neighbourhood. There was the café he’d hidden in after seeing the sociopath for the first time.
Harrison turned into her road.
He saw them immediately. You couldn’t miss them. Two police patrol cars, lights still flashing, and an ambulance in the middle of the road. Right outside Tanya’s flat.
Harrison screeched to a halt and jumped off his bike. Running the last few yards to her front door.
Two police officers were standing in the open doorway. Had they had to break-in?
He vaulted down the steps.
‘Is she OK? Where’s Tanya?’ he asked the first police officer who turned to see who he was. Harrison peered around him. Inside, he could see the hallway table tipped over on the floor.
‘I’m sorry sir, you can’t come in here.’ The officer held his hand up and went to block Harrison.
He pulled out his police ID and shouted, ‘Tanya?’
The officer looked at the ID as Harrison went to step into the flat. He stopped as two other officers came towards the door from the sitting-room. Between them was the Scottish sociopath in handcuffs. They had him. But where was Tanya?
‘We’ve arrested him, Dr Lane,’ the officer said to him. ‘It’s a crime scene, I can’t let you in right now.’ The young officer tried to reassure him.
Harrison stepped aside as the two officers led the stalker from Tanya’s flat. He walked out; head held high. There was blood on his face. It looked like his nose might be broken because it was now at a different angle to what it had been before, and Harrison could see the swelling starting. Despite this and the pain he must have been in, there was no emotion on his face. He looked at Harrison. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he saw the glimmer of recognition cross the man’s face. Then he was gone.
Harrison couldn’t stand it any longer. No matter what he was going to find in there, he had to see her. He dived straight into the flat before the other officers could say a word to stop him.
‘Tanya,’ he shouted into the flat.
‘Please, Dr Lane, this is a crime scene.’ He heard the officer behind him say.
Then he saw her. In the sitting-room on the sofa. The sight took his breath away, stopping him so fast that he had to put a hand out to prevent himself from losing his balance.
She looked so beautiful. Pale, but beautiful.
She didn’t seem to have been touched. There wasn’t a mark on her.
‘Harrison.’ Tanya’s face lit up when she saw his. She jumped up from the sofa and reached out for him.
For a few moments he couldn’t speak.
‘Are you all right? I’ve been so worried,’ he said, enveloping her in his arms, folding her into his chest.
‘Yes, I’m fine.’
‘I thought he’d…’ Harrison couldn’t even finish the words.
‘I told you,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘He was messing with the wrong woman. He jumped me when I came home, took me by surprise and pushed me into the flat just as I’d unlocked the door. But I’d prepared. I had weapons everywhere. I got him first with hairspray in his eyes. I pressed the panic alarm as he tried to get over that, and when he came after me, I used the baseball bat. He’d expected me to be too scared to fight back, but he was wrong. I wasn’t going to be his next victim.’
‘You clever girl. I should have known you’d outsmart him.’
Harrison breathed in deeply, pulling the scent of her into his mind and body. As he let the breath go, he felt the last hour’s tension release from him, and his shoulders drop by at least two inches.
‘I’m glad you’re here now, though,’ Tanya whispered.
Harrison looked into her eyes and allowed himself to be pulled straight down into their depths. He released her from his arms and gently took her face in his hands. Her skin was so soft and smooth. His thumb caressed her cheek and he bent forward, allowing his lips to meet hers. They were as sweet and soft as he’d imagined they would be.
33
Two weeks later, Harrison and Jack were in a conference room wrapping up a telephone call with DCI Robert Whittaker. He had everything sewn up. Scott was being given a full psychological assessment and was currently detained in a secure unit. Craig had fully recovered and confirmed he was officially disbanding The Horsemen. He was talking to his father about letting the barn be used by the Wildlife Trust as a visitor centre and educational area. The Cambridgeshire team was preparing everything for a trial and DCI Whittaker was yet again thanking the pair of them for their assistance.
As soon as they’d ended the call, Jack spun round to Harrison.
‘I’ve found something, well someone, who knows about the Nunhead murder.’
Harrison was taken aback. Jack had promised to help him find his mother’s killer, but he’d no idea that he’d already made some progress.
‘I was able to use her DNA sample and matched it to living relatives. Her parents are gone, but she still has a sister who’s alive, and she lives in London. I’ve already phoned her, and she’s confirmed that her sister went missing in 1993 and hasn’t been heard of since. She’s more than willing to talk to us.’
Harrison didn’t know what to say.
‘You OK?’ Jack asked, concern replacing his usual cheeky face.
‘Thank you. Definitely.’
‘OK, I’ll sort out a time and let you know. She works in the day so it will probably have to be either an evening or weekend.’
‘Whatever, that’s fine.’
‘Sure you won’t be too busy with Dr Jones?’ Jack teased.
Harrison hadn’t lived down the moment that DCI Barker walked into Tanya’s flat to find the pair of them kissing. He’d been mortified by the interruption, first because he’d been enjoying the moment so much, and second because the news spread around the station faster than a dose of Norovirus, and Jack had been mercilessly teasing him about it ever since. Fake Love Island posters with his and Tanya’s photos on had been stuck around his office and the incident room. It had all been a bit overwhelming, especially when Ryan had to explain to him what Love Island was. Harrison had a very strong suspicion as to who was behind the posters too, and he wasn’t sitting too far away from him.
Harrison was nervous about meeting the sister of the Nunhead murder victim. It was a very dark period of his life, a horror that he and his mother had run away from and the truth of which lay buried deep inside his mind. Although it was a long time ago, and he’d been a child, he still felt some kind of responsibility for having been there that night. It was his hunt for answers, though that drove him on. He would never get justice for his mother, or the Nunhead victim, unless he faced up to his own fears.
Her sister was very keen to see them, desperate that they might finally have some news. The family had been searching all this time, hoping that one day they too would get some answers. The next evening, Jack and Harrison drove up to a small terraced house in North London.
Harrison had no idea where this might lead him in his hunt for justice, but every step he took towards proving that Desmond and Freda Manning were killers was a step in the right direction.
The woman who opened the door took him by surprise initially. She was in her fifties and finding keeping the weight off hard. Dressed in practical jeans and a baggy top, Elizabeth Ward looked nothing like the ethereal dark-haired beauty that had lain in a white dress on the stone in Nunhead Cemetery. Harrison had kept her sister locked inside his head for so long that he’d forgotten she would have aged had she been allowed to live.
Elizabeth was a social worker, specialising in problem teenagers. It was clear her work meant a lot to her. In the sitting-room, she proudly displa
yed the awards and certificates she’d received throughout her career. Also on the wall was a photograph of Elizabeth as a young woman. Her grey streaked hair had once been dark, just like he remembered the girl in Nunhead.
Jack had a photograph of the Jane Doe they now believed to be Annette Ward. A young woman who would have been just twenty-two at the time of her death. He didn’t need to get it out to show Elizabeth to know that they’d finally confirmed her identity. Elizabeth had several photographs already spread out across the table in the sitting-room. They were of two young attractive women, in the prime of their lives, dressed up to go out, or laughing at a party. There was also one of Annette, looking pensive and withdrawn, a sadness in her face.
‘I’m very sorry,’ Jack started, ‘I believe that it’s quite likely that the young woman who died in 1993 is indeed your sister, Annette.’
Tears instantly welled in Elizabeth’s eyes.
‘I knew she was dead. She had to be. There was no way she’d not have got in contact with us.’
‘We will need some formal identification procedures, but I’m fairly confident that with the DNA trace and the photographs we have, it is your sister.’
‘What happened to her?’ Elizabeth asked now, her voice wavering.
‘She was stabbed and killed in Nunhead Cemetery.’
‘Nunhead? The last we’d heard she was in Wales,’ Elizabeth said.
At the mention of Wales, Harrison’s heart was clutched by an icy fist. Flashes from his childhood lit up his mind. He wanted to get up from the comfortable leather sofa in Elizabeth Ward’s house and run. Run away into the dark streets outside, where he didn’t have to face the ghosts that haunted his mind.
‘Have they have caught her killer?’ Elizabeth’s broken voice brought him back to reality. He had to focus. There were other victims, not just him.
Jack shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not yet, but that’s one of the reasons why we’re here talking to you now. We wanted to know as much about Annette’s life and who she might have been spending time with.’
