‘This place is amazing. I can’t believe all I’ve ever done is sunbathe outside it.’
‘It used to be a conservatory at a private house over on Loch Long on the west coast,’ Danny explained.
‘You winding me up, Papa?’
‘No. Kibble donated it to the city and they dismantled the whole thing and brought it up the Clyde by barge and cart in the 1870s. It’s been here ever since.’
‘How come you know so much?’
‘I’m old. You live long enough, you learn things.’
‘So you’ll know why you and Mum don’t talk to each other, then?’
He’d thought he was too old to fall into traps but maybe you’re never too old for that. His first reaction was to say nothing, his second was to lie. Both crumbled when he looked at her; hope and expectancy all over her face.
‘I did something I shouldn’t have done and your mother can’t forgive me for it. I don’t blame her. I just wish she’d change her mind.’
She studied him, fierce and inquisitive, and he saw her mother’s eyes. He blinked twice but they were still there when he looked again. Maybe not as accusing as Barbara’s but still too close for comfort.
‘Is that all I’m getting? I’m the one that’s grown up without a granddad because of whatever it was.’ She laughed quietly. ‘I’m the victim here.’
He laughed too, despite himself. ‘We’re all victims, kid. Everybody loses. And, yes, it’s all you’re getting. For now at least. I did something I wasn’t proud of and I’ve spent the rest of my life trying to make up for it.’
‘That’s not good enough, Papa. Not good enough at all.’
‘I know.’
As they emerged through the main gates, the lights changed at the crossing, and pedestrians began to flood across in every direction. Chloe looked at them for a second before grabbing Danny close and kissing him on the cheek. In an instant she was off, dashing across the junction towards Byres Road, her long red hair flying behind her and an arm raised high waving back towards him.
He stood and watched her go, seeing her break into an impromptu skip halfway across, and laughed out loud despite the fact that he didn’t know whether he was going to see her again, or when. He watched until she merged into the crowds and was swept up into their mass. Even when she was just another shapeless form in the moving human river, he stood with his hands thrust into his pockets and looked at where she had been.
He must have stood there for a minute or two, the consequences of age-old actions sinking in yet again, when the hand stuck in his right pocket was tickled by the vibration of his mobile phone. He pulled it out and saw her name at the top of the display, causing the flutter of butterflies to be released in his stomach again.
Lv u papa. Cu agn v soon xxx
Bloody text-speak. Is that really what they were teaching them at university? If he was speaking to her mother, he’d have a word about this. Instead he typed.
Lv u 2 darling. Cu v v soon xxx
There wasn’t all that much that Danny loved about the so-called modern world. In fact that very phrase was one that made him scowl. It had been a modern world when he was twenty and it would be one again when he was pushing up daisies. But he did love the fact that, despite his and Chloe’s separation by forty-odd years in age and a few hundred yards in distance, they could communicate instantly. It made him happy.
He would have been far less happy if he’d known that, in the river of people that was flowing along Byres Road, one was paddling rather than being swept along with the current. Twenty yards behind Chloe, unseen, unknown, a pair of eager eyes never let Danny’s granddaughter out of their sight.
Chapter 37
Friday noon
Okay, so you know what you’re going to do?’
‘No.’
‘Are you ready for this?’
‘No.’
‘C’mon, Tony. We’ve been through it a hundred times.’
‘Yeah, we have but it doesn’t mean that I’m prepared for it. I’m the one that’s going to have to go in there. On my own with a killer. Funnily enough, I’m a bit worried about it.’
‘You’ll be fine.’ Addison sounded more hopeful than believing and Winter got the distinct impression the words were meant as much for Alex Shirley’s ears as his. The gang were all there: Addison, Shirley, Kelbie, Narey and Danny, plus the governor of Blackridge, Tom Walton, and his deputy. None of them, Addison included, seemed happy with the idea of it all being in Winter’s hands, and he was even less keen on the idea than they were. But it was the only game that Atto would play, and it was his rules.
They’d hauled in a trained negotiator, a man used to dealing with potential jumpers or hostage situations, and he’d talked Winter through conversation and negotiation strategies. How and when to push it and when not to, how to understand motivational factors and how to keep Atto onside but not to let him have complete control. Or at least not to let him think he had. It all sounded fine in theory, but the negotiator had never met Atto. Winter had, and he wasn’t filled with hope.
They all kept looking at him, individually and collectively, full on or out the corners of their eyes, every glance and every stare causing the pressure to crank up another notch. Their lack of faith in his ability to pull it off was multiplied by the need for answers and his own doubts. The interview, to be attended by only one prison officer and Walton, the prison governor, was to go unrecorded and would begin in under three minutes. They’d all got to Blackridge too early and the wait wasn’t helping. He watched the clock tick slowly towards start time. They watched him watch it.
Danny pushed his way out of the herd and took Winter protectively by the arm, edging him away from the others. ‘I know you’re nervous, son. But that’s a good thing. It’ll keep you on your toes. You can do this. You’ve got good instincts and you’re smart. And you’ve got other advantages working for you that give you the edge on Atto.’
Winter looked doubtful.
‘You have. He’s taken a liking to you and I know that’s probably freaking you out, but it’s an edge you’ve got to use. But, most of all, Atto wants to tell us. He wants the headlines and he wants to deliver them through you. Work him. Squeeze him dry. Remember, you’re in charge because you have what he wants.’
Winter smiled uneasily. ‘Nice speech, Dan, but he also has what we want, and I don’t think he’s going to give it up easily.’
‘That’s my boy: glass half full. Go get him. Do it for me.’
‘Do my best, Dan. Do my best.’
‘Okay, Winter. Let’s get going.’ Alex Shirley sounded nervous, his arse on the line along with everyone else’s. ‘It’s almost time. Mr Walton, you ready?’
The governor, a no-nonsense man in his mid-fifties wearing what looked suspiciously like a wig, nodded curtly. He and Winter positioned themselves in front of the sliding door, each taking a deep breath. The prison boss was to be merely an observer, Winter’s usual position and one that he begrudged giving up.
The door slowly slid back and the two men walked in, Winter taking up the chair in front of the broad wooden table and the governor retreating to the side, where he stood against the wall. Moments later, a hiss of air signalled that the door on the far wall was sliding open and Atto emerged into the room, his eyes seeking the other side of the desk and bobbing his head in approval when he saw Winter sitting there. At his back was the prison guard with the shaved head whom he and Danny had encountered on their first visit. The officer gave a respectful nod towards his boss, then assumed a position against the wall with his eyes focused on Atto.
‘Thank you for coming, Anthony. It’s good to see you again.’
Winter couldn’t offer the same sentiment in return. How could it be in any way good to meet a man who had killed all those women? How could he possibly make conversational small talk with him. He wouldn’t.
‘Time is against us, Mr Atto. We need to know what’s going on and we need to know it quickly.’
A
tto’s face fell in disappointment. ‘Straight to business, is that it, Anthony? No pleasantries, no “How are you?” Okay, if that’s how you wish to play it. But it’s not the best way for you to get the most out of the game. Surely at least we can get beyond using “Mr Atto”. No?’
The negotiator had told Winter to engage with the man, to call him by his first name if he could, but to be wary of using shorthand familiars, such as Archie or Arch in case it offended. It was all so by the book but, when push came to shove, it stuck in Winter’s throat to make as if he were remotely pally with this monster. But he’d do it.
‘Okay. Archibald. We can do that. You need to forgive me if I’m businesslike because this is serious. Two young women have been murdered. You say you know what’s going on. Your DNA is found at the scene where one of them was abducted. You can see that it’s serious.’
‘I can see that it’s serious for you, Anthony. And for all the policemen that are no doubt on the other side of that wall. But it’s not serious for me. Why would it be? I don’t know those women and probably wouldn’t care about them even if I did. And it’s not as if I can be locked up for any longer than I already am. Serious? I don’t think so.’
‘You don’t think murder is serious? I saw those women. I saw how their bodies were left laid out in the cemeteries after they’d been killed. Left lying there like—’
Winter saw the light that went on in Atto’s eyes and realised his mistake too late. The man was feasting on the image that he’d help serve up for him. He wanted to see what Winter had seen and was intent on tapping into his memory bank of film.
‘Don’t stop, Anthony. Please, go on.’
‘No. There’s nothing to be gained by that. If you’re telling the truth, then you already know what was done. And why. Is that right?’
Atto pouted slightly, disappointed at Winter’s not playing along. ‘Yes, that’s right. I know the who and the why.’
The bombshell landed softly in the table between them, as if disarmed by the unexpectedness of it. Winter was aware of the governor and the guard lifting their heads sharply to make sure they had heard what they thought they had. His own heart beat a little faster and he deliberately hesitated before replying, knowing that he couldn’t win the game they were playing with one remark, but he could lose it. Don’t ask who, he told himself. Don’t ask who, not yet. Not now.
‘How do you know?’ Appeal to his vanity, he thought to himself, remembering the negotiator’s advice. ‘How can you know when you’re locked up in here?’
Atto’s mouth curled up at one side, smugly pleased at the question. ‘I’m only locked up by walls, Anthony. This is the age of wireless technology and stone walls do not a prison make.’ He gave a little chuckle, clearly amused by his own wit.
Tom Walton, the governor, wasn’t so happy with Atto’s answer. Winter saw him push off the wall before managing to stop himself, remembering his role of observer. If what Atto was insinuating was true, then Walton’s arse was joining a long list of arses that were precariously on the line.
‘Okay…’ Winter began warily. ‘So you can contact the outside world. Presumably by some device that you shouldn’t have. Not unknown in prisons, I suppose. And you’re saying it in front of Mr Walton, so therefore confident that it will not be discovered.’
Atto gave another self-satisfied half-smile that cried out to be wiped from his face but, in the circumstances, had to be left to fester, and Winter continued.
‘So now we know how you can know what’s happened. And if you are in contact—’
‘Happening,’ Atto interrupted. ‘Not happened, happening. This is still going on. It isn’t over.’
The words stole their way into Winter’s ribcage, punching his heart hard and begging a question he didn’t want to ask but knew he had to.
‘The killings haven’t finished?’
‘No.’
‘How many more?’
Atto gave a little unconvincing shrug of his shoulders. The gesture didn’t say that he didn’t know: it said that he wasn’t telling. Danny’s words about Winter’s being in charge because he had what Atto wanted came drifting back, and sounded even more hollow than they had first time around. He probably couldn’t feel less in charge than he did at that moment.
‘You know more than you’re saying, Archibald.’
‘Oh, yes, very much so.’
‘And you know who is doing it and you know how your DNA was found at the crime scene.’
‘Yes.’
‘How?’
Atto sighed. ‘Both of those things are explained by one simple piece of information that I will pass on to you — before you leave today but when I’m ready. But you need to indulge me first. Do you know why I said I would only speak to you, Anthony? Have you wondered about that at all?’
Of course he had. He’d thought about little else. He wasn’t giving Atto the satisfaction of that, though. Instead he mimicked the unconvincing shoulder shrug. Atto laughed as if he wasn’t buying it in the slightest.
‘It’s because of death, Anthony. It’s your job and you spend your days seeing what I saw. What so few people get to see. And I can see that it fascinates you the same way that it fascinates me.’
‘Not the same way. Not the same way at all.’
Atto tilted his head and pushed his lower lip beyond the upper, signifying that he’d concede the point even if he didn’t agree.
‘Okay, perhaps not. Maybe we’re two sides of the same coin. Coming at the same prey from different angles. Like the poacher and the gamekeeper. Whatever, it’s there, and I can see it. Photographing those dead girls, it gives you a buzz. A buzz that few people could understand because they’ve never been there.’
Winter’s skin crawled as if Atto were running his fingers over it, playing him like a harp. It crawled because of how close he was getting to an unpalatable truth that he was forced to deny using a half-truth.
‘No, it’s not like that at all. Maybe once but not now. It’s a job, nothing more.’
Atto looked at him silently for an age. ‘The gentleman doth protest too much, methinks. Hamlet, Act Three, Scene Two. Apart from being regularly misquoted, that line is also misunderstood. We assume protest to mean “object” or “deny”, but it didn’t mean that in Shakespeare’s time. It meant almost the opposite: to “affirm” or “vow”. Just as you confirm my suggestion as much by what you don’t say as by what you do.’
The harp strings crawled over Winter again, Atto working them expertly, making them sing an ugly song with a haunting melody. He had to change the tune.
‘So why do you kill?’
Atto smiled, both corners of his mouth turning up in amused satisfaction. This was his kind of conversation.
‘Do you know how few people have asked me that question? They want to know the obvious things: who, where and when. They want to know where the bodies are buried. They ask me for facts rather than for why, the big why. They might, might, ask me why I murdered this one or that one. But they rarely ask me why I choose to do it. You know why they don’t? Because they’re afraid of the answer. Aren’t you afraid, Anthony?’
‘No. And why should I be? You haven’t answered it. You just asked another question of your own.’
Atto chuckled. ‘Fair point, Anthony. Fair point. But in many ways you’re right. Every answer I give you as to why I kill will just raise another question. Some of them I don’t know the answer to. For example, I kill because I enjoy it. Why do I enjoy it? It gives me a thrill. Why? I’m not sure I know. Do I like the feeling of empowerment? Yes. Why? I don’t know. Do I like hurting them? Yes. Why?’
He slowly spread his arms wide to show that he couldn’t possibly explain. Winter said nothing. Atto continued.
‘Do I feel guilty about the things I’ve done? No. Why is that? I don’t know. Do I feel sorry for the girls I killed all those years ago? No. Do I feel sorry for those girls killed last week? No. Why? Because I have no such feelings. Why? I don’t know. Why d
on’t I know?’
Despite himself, Winter felt the urge to ask those questions and more. He didn’t want to be in the man’s head and he sure as hell didn’t want Atto in his. But the itch to know was crawling over him too. And Atto knew it.
‘Do you think you were born that way?’
‘Probably.’
‘And do you think of yourself as evil?’
Atto’s eyes flashed, dark and angry, fleeting but visible, his mouth twitching at the edges. He swallowed deep before answering, and Winter sensed that he’d just won a point at last.
‘No. I don’t. I do know that I’ve probably done evil things. But I can’t seem to feel bad about having done them, so how can it be so wrong? Who the fuck are you to judge me, anyway?’
A second point and so quick after the first. Atto spat out the last question as an afterthought. One that he couldn’t stop himself from making. Maybe Winter had more control in this game than he’d thought he had.
‘I’m not judging you. I just asked you a question. You’re not afraid of the answer, are you, Archibald?’
Atto laughed sourly and turned towards Tom Walton. ‘How long have we got left?’
The governor snapped to attention at the question being directed at him and looked at his watch. ‘Ten minutes. Although you can have longer if you want it.’
‘No, it will be long enough. Mr Winter can come back if he doesn’t get everything he wants in his time today.’
Winter thought back to the negotiator’s counsel on when to push it and when not to. If he remembered correctly, then this moment was right on the wire. Push.
‘How can you be so sure that there will be more killings?’
‘He told me so. As simple as that. He will kill as many as Red Silk did.’
Witness the Dead Page 24
