The Silent Room

by Mari Hannah

  Leaning forward, Ryan picked up the report, playing for time. Glancing at the document a second time, he began to relax.

  There was a God.

  ‘The vehicle was sporting Goodrich All-Terrain tyres,’ he said for Caroline’s benefit.

  Stumped by their significance, she turned towards him, inviting further comment.

  The only thing he did was to reiterate his contention that it wasn’t his car.

  O’Neil took her time. ‘Ms Ryan, whether your client likes it or not, his vehicle will have to be retained for forensic examination. This will be done as soon as humanly possible. It shouldn’t take too long to clear this matter up.’ She switched her focus to Ryan. ‘I take it you have no objection?’

  Ryan was struggling to remain cool. Logic told him he was about to be found out. He felt sick – for him and his twin. He was so wound up his hands had formed into tight fists in his lap. Fortunately, they were hidden beneath the interview room table. He fixed on O’Neil. She was nobody’s fool. When no answer was forthcoming, she pushed him on it …

  ‘It seems clear to me that you’re unhappy with the idea,’ she said. ‘Is there any particular reason why you don’t want me to examine the vehicle?’

  Her eyes shifted to Caroline, no doubt taking in her anxiety, waiting for a response from one or both of them. Ryan looked beyond her through the window. It had begun to get dark and was raining hard, torrents of water splashing down on to the windowsill from a blocked gutter above. Maguire was walking across the car park, looking decidedly dejected. The fact that O’Neil had sent him packing was cold comfort to Ryan.

  Caroline’s voice took his attention. ‘Matt, Superintendent O’Neil asked you a question. Have you anything further to say?’

  ‘No, nothing.’

  ‘DS Ryan, I shall ask you one more time,’ O’Neil said. ‘Why don’t you want the vehicle examined?’

  ‘Why do you think?’

  O’Neil snapped. ‘That’s not an answer.’

  ‘Jesus! Isn’t it obvious?’

  ‘Not to me. I must be dim.’

  ‘Because you’ll keep it for days,’ Ryan barked. ‘It’s pissing down. My sister and I will have to make our way to Alnwick on public transport with a wet dog. Happy now?’

  Caroline apologized, tried her best to take the heat out of the situation. ‘My brother has answered your question. He has nothing more to say on the matter.’

  ‘With respect,’ O’Neil said. ‘I think he does.’

  ‘Guv, how many more times have I got to say it? It wasn’t my car, I swear. And before you go to the expense and bother of forensic examination –’ Ryan pointed out the window – ‘I’d get your boy out there to check his facts. Because from where I’m sitting, he hasn’t done you any favours so far.’

  Glancing over her shoulder, O’Neil head-checked Maguire, who was getting into his car. When she turned to face Ryan, she was far from happy. His bravado had bordered on insolence. No doubt she was making all sorts of judgements. Let her. He was cornered. Up against it. He needed her to reconsider. To release his vehicle before anyone got inside.

  ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ she said.

  ‘No,’ Ryan said. ‘I don’t suppose you do. I don’t use all-terrain tyres at this time of year. I use winter slalom because of where I live. You’ve seen for yourself how remote my place is. That is easily checked. Is it too much to ask that Maguire might do his job properly, just once? He’s made you look like an amateur.’

  O’Neil was ready to kill. ‘When did you have the winter tyres put on?’

  ‘A fortnight ago.’

  ‘You can prove that?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Ryan was angry and it showed. ‘Ring Simon at Bridge End Motors if you don’t believe me; he puts them on every October and stores the others for me. If you … if Maguire had given me the courtesy of a call, I could’ve told him that. I’d have brought the car in myself. Instead, I had to go through the humiliation of being arrested by an officer I know. How the fuck do you think that makes me feel?’

  Caroline put a hand on her brother’s shoulder, the voice of reason, telling him to calm down. Trying to placate O’Neil, she apologized again for his outburst. He was incensed, justifiably so if he’d been wrongly accused. It was salt in the wound of a friend of a dead man.

  Ryan didn’t dare look at O’Neil because she sensed he was nervous with something to hide. Ending the interview, she bailed him, said she’d let him know when she’d finished with his car.

  43

  It was getting dark as Ryan led Caroline from the station. Exiting the car park, he pulled out his phone and called a cab, a firm he used on a regular basis. He told the cab office he wanted to go into town without stating exactly where he wanted dropping off. When under suspicion, it paid not to be specific.

  ‘Aren’t we going to Fenham?’ Caroline asked.

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘Why not?’

  They turned right, heading east along the West Road, huddling together under her umbrella. ‘We’ve got a slight problem,’ Ryan said.

  ‘We?’

  ‘Me, I meant me.’

  Stopping at the lights, Caroline’s Labrador waited patiently at the kerb to guide her across the road, doing his job as if Ryan wasn’t there. He was a fantastic dog, the best so far, keeping her mobile, providing companionship – her lifeline – and yet he’d retire in a few years’ time, to be replaced by another, equally amazing animal.

  A coach pulled away from a bus stop, oblivious to a passing motorcyclist, almost wiping him out. Ryan kept his eyes on the busy road. When he was a rookie cop, he’d been called to a horrific accident further along this same stretch. A girl had been knocked down on a pelican crossing by an uninsured driver. She’d suffer catastrophic head injuries and almost died. The event had stuck with him, made him wonder how his sister coped without coming to grief with more traffic on the roads than ever before. He wondered if Jack had felt the impact, if he’d known his time was up as he lay dying in that awful hospital bed.

  The cab pulled up, the driver waiting patiently for them all to get in. ‘Where we off to, folks?’ he asked.

  ‘City centre,’ Ryan said. ‘Let you know when we get there.’

  Caroline pulled on her seat belt. ‘Matt, what aren’t you telling me?’

  Ryan did likewise, took hold of her hand. ‘Not here.’

  He kept quiet as the taxi sped down the West Road, passing the Blue Lamp – a local landmark – and down the hill to the heart of the city. Caroline was chatty, reassuring him that everything would be fine. Ryan knew different. O’Neil would find the file and crucify him. Then it would be game over …

  In every sense.

  He pictured his vehicle up on a ramp, paint scrapings being taken, the chassis under forensic scrutiny, every single dint being painstakingly examined for traces of Jack’s blood and skin. The image made him cringe. With a bit of luck, forensic examiners might have been so intent on the exterior of the vehicle, they wouldn’t have looked inside.

  Yet.

  City traffic slowed them up, clogged nose to tail in a bottleneck at St James’ Boulevard. It was getting on for six as the cab slowed outside Eldon Square, the driver checking his rear-view mirror for instructions.

  ‘Grey’s Monument,’ Ryan said.

  On the corner of Emerson Chambers and Ellison Place, the cab turned left, pulling up outside a branch of Waterstones, a good source of Braille books for Caroline. Ryan had been in recently to buy her a John Grisham novel: The Associate.

  ‘This’ll do perfectly,’ she said.

  The driver gave her an odd look, amazed that she had a clue where she was.

  ‘Inbuilt radar,’ Ryan said proudly. ‘She has a better sense of direction than you and I do, mate. Thank your lucky stars she doesn’t drive!’

  Getting Caroline and Bob out and settled on the pavement, he paid the driver, telling him to keep the change. As the cab drove off, they crossed the road into Grey Stre
et, the focal point of Grainger Town, the historic heart of Newcastle. It was Ryan’s favourite city destination, a street he’d never been able to adequately describe for his twin’s benefit, however much he tried. Today, its fine Georgian architecture was ignored. He was preoccupied, beginning to regret not having come clean with O’Neil. Maybe if he’d put his hands up, she’d have seen her way clear to putting in a good word for him. In return for cooperation, prigs got off lightly – why not him?

  Yeah, right …

  He was a copper …

  She’d be looking to lock him up and throw away the key.

  Ryan didn’t fancy coffee. He was wired enough without it. In dire need of alcohol, he considered the Theatre Royal bar, discounting it when he saw the sign outside. The RSC was performing tonight. The place would be heaving. Instead, he chose Brown’s bar across the road. Ordering wine, he steered Caroline to a table with a view of the door.

  ‘Now are you going to tell me what’s worrying you?’ she asked.

  ‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to know.’

  ‘There’s something. You can’t hide it. I can hear it in your voice. O’Neil bailed you too quickly, in my opinion. Is that why we can’t go to Fenham? You think she’s having you followed?’

  ‘It’s a possibility.’

  Ryan picked up her wine glass, considering. ‘There’s something incriminating in my car.’

  ‘I knew it,’ she said. ‘You promised to be straight with me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He put the glass in her hand, making sure she was holding on before letting go. ‘I’d rather not say what it is. If I tell you and they question you, well, I’m sure I don’t have to draw you any …’ He stopped himself using a cliché that made no sense in her particular circumstance.

  Excited voices reached them from the next table. Two middle-aged women were poring over pictures in the Evening Chronicle: the christening of Prince George. They were discussing how cute he was in the royal christening robe.

  ‘Matt, don’t shut me out.’

  ‘OK,’ Ryan relented. ‘Don’t get angry.’

  ‘Over what? What is it that’s so incriminating?’

  ‘A file I’m not supposed to have. I’m in the shit, Caroline. I’ve done stuff I’m not proud of. I wanted justice for Jack so badly that I asked a serving officer to photocopy evidence I couldn’t get my hands on any other way. And before you ask what and who, it’s not important. What is important is, I could lose my job over it.’

  ‘I can’t believe that.’ Caroline took a sip of her wine. ‘The Superintendent sounded like a reasonable woman. Bob thought so too, didn’t you, boy?’ She put a hand out to stroke her guide dog, a big smile on her face. ‘O’Neil likes you, Matt. I can tell.’

  ‘Think again,’ Ryan huffed. ‘Ever since she met me, I’ve been a pain in the neck. She’s no slouch. She’s knows I’m up to my eyes in something. I haven’t been lying through my back teeth exactly, but she won’t rest until she finds out what it is. My guts are telling me it won’t take her long.’

  ‘She still likes you.’

  ‘You like chocolate, but it’s not good for you.’

  Caroline laughed. ‘Go on! Confession time. You like her too, yes?’

  ‘What’s with the questions?’

  ‘Is she a looker?’

  ‘A looker?’ It was Ryan’s turn to laugh. ‘Where d’you learn that?’

  ‘Is she?’

  ‘Sure is.’ He pictured O’Neil in the interview room: red wavy hair, stunning grey eyes, great mouth. ‘And she loves my cottage. You’d approve. Shame she’s looking to bust my balls.’ He looked around, certain they hadn’t picked up a tail. ‘Drink up. We’ll catch a bus to Fenham and walk the rest of the way.’

  44

  As soon as they got in, Caroline went off to feed Bob, leaving Ryan in the living room with Grace. Despite the afternoon’s events, she seemed to be on a high. Her greeting was not returned. Ryan took off his leather jacket and slung it on the sofa, so shattered he didn’t know what the hell to do, what to think, much less what would happen to him in the next few hours.

  ‘Where’s Newman?’ he asked.

  ‘Out. What’s up with you?’ Grace handed him a shot of Jack Daniels.

  ‘I want my life back.’ He downed the drink in one gulp.

  ‘O’Neil let you go, that’s a start—’

  ‘She kept the car.’

  ‘We’ll get you a new one,’ Grace said, tongue in cheek.

  Ryan couldn’t fathom what was so amusing. He studied her as she walked to the dining room table, picked up a file and returned with it. When she waved it in the air, he noticed Roz’s pink Post-it note still attached to the front cover. For a moment, he stared at it, unable to get his head around how it had come into her possession.

  ‘Panic over, my man.’ Grace raised her glass. ‘Roz came up trumps.’

  ‘But I thought she dropped me in the—’

  ‘You thought wrong. As soon as you phoned me, I phoned her. When I told her the tale, she almost had a heart attack, so I asked her nicely to get her arse in gear and save the two of you. There wasn’t any need for negotiation. She knew if you went down, so did she. She raced over there and did the business as soon as your car arrived at the nick. Pretty nifty, eh?’

  Ryan wanted to believe it, but: ‘She had no keys.’

  ‘Didn’t need any. It was in the secure lock-up. Guess what was dangling from the ignition?’

  ‘They hadn’t locked it?’ His face lit up. ‘Oh, that is class!’ His joy was short-lived as his eyes shifted to the screen saver behind her showing the floating logo of Northumbria Police, something his eagle-eyed ex wouldn’t have missed. He pointed at it. ‘I hope that wasn’t on when she was here.’

  ‘Relax, I met her in town. Took possession. You’re in the clear. You can thank me later.’

  Breathing a sigh of relief, Ryan stepped forward, put his arms around Grace and gave her a great big hug. She pushed him away, telling him there was no time to get fresh. ‘We’re not out of the woods yet. Hilary was burgled. The house is totally trashed. O’Neil knows about the two guys, the second search.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘I honestly think she’s on our side. That might have less to do with our sunny personalities and more to do with the dick she works with. Is Hilary OK?’

  Grace nodded. ‘She and the kids have moved in with her father for the time being. So, where do we go from here? Do you think it’s time to come clean with O’Neil and close the silent room down?’

  ‘Hell, no! She thinks I’m a waste of space.’

  ‘The woman doesn’t know what she’s missing,’ Grace said.

  Ryan allowed himself a half-smile, reminded of Caroline’s comments in the bar.

  O’Neil liked him?

  In his dreams, perhaps.

  His phone rang, jolting him from his reverie. It was the woman herself. The conversation was short and sweet. She told him he could collect his car and apologized for any inconvenience.

  Grace pulled up close – but not too close – to the station and switched the engine off. As Ryan opened the car door, she grabbed his arm to stop him from getting out. Letting go of the door, but leaving it open, he turned to face her. He was suddenly attentive, a question in his eyes: you found something?

  Grace was quick to answer. ‘While you were out getting arrested, I was busy checking HOLMES – specifically the vehicle index. The R1 motorcycle Storey mentioned at the scene was captured on CCTV a mile or two north of Durham.’

  ‘Stolen?’ It was an easy guess.

  ‘From a Consett lock-up—’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Day before the hijack. Don’t get too excited. It was dumped and torched. Found by a foot patrol in Scotswood earlier today—’

  Ryan’s shoulders went down. ‘Which effectively closes down that line of enquiry.’

  ‘Pretty much …’ She watched him reach for the door handle. ‘Not all the news is depressing, though.’r />
  He shut the door, eager for more.

  ‘When four-wheel drives – Discoveries in particular – were mentioned as potentially responsible for Jack’s death, I put two and two together and began researching old diesel cars that might fit the one Caroline described on the tape to see if any were recorded in the system.’

  ‘And were there?’

  ‘Not at the scene, no.’

  ‘I’m hearing a “but”.’

  ‘There were three in total. Yours, which Maguire seized on like a bird of prey because he likes you so much.’ She made a crazy face. ‘Another I think we can safely discount – it belongs to the firearms team – and a third, also seen on a CCTV camera five miles away. No one was looking at it because it was just another car driving on that road, quite a long way from the scene.’

  ‘They will be, now they’ve ruled me out.’

  ‘No actions have been raised to trace the owner so far. It belongs to a company trading as Claesson Logistics.’

  Registering the foreign name, Ryan looked at her. ‘Son of Claes? You reckon it’s Dutch or maybe German?’

  ‘According to my searches, the name is Swedish but the company itself is registered here. Irwin’s co-driver mentioned Scandinavia.’

  ‘He did.’

  They locked eyes.

  It was a definite link. Two pieces of evidence coming together. Tenuous, Ryan had to concede, but nevertheless exciting. He didn’t dare believe that they might lead anywhere – not at this stage. Grace suggested she’d do some more digging and speak to Hilary. They agreed to rendezvous at her house later. Despite the hour – almost nine thirty – Ryan had an errand to run he didn’t want to leave ‘til morning. He wanted to thank Roz personally. He owed her that much.

  Her quirky loft-style apartment was located in the suburb of Sandyford, within walking distance of leafier Jesmond – the centre of her universe – with its high-end bistros, bars and cafes. Plenty of scope to find a replacement partner or just get laid.

  Ryan didn’t intend staying long. Roz deserved his thanks but past experience had taught him that she might try to capitalize on her strong position, lay a guilt trip on him and seek gratitude for services rendered, a last shot at making their relationship work. As it turned out, she was in chunks when he arrived, fearful of repercussions and ready to punch someone.