by Carol Wyer
Anna walked forward a few paces. Mitz tugged at her forearm. She gave an imperceptible shake of her head and whispered, ‘Let me talk to him.’
‘Mr Dawson,’ she said, smoothly. ‘Don’t you have a little boy?’
Scott gulped back tears. ‘Yes – George.’
‘You can’t leave him. He’s only young and, divorced or not, a boy needs his father.’
‘He’ll be better off without me. What example am I to him? I’ll confuse him.’
Anna edged closer. ‘Then who better to help him if he does become confused? You’ll be able to support him and understand him in ways his mother can’t. And, at the moment, you are George’s world. He doesn’t care about anything other than you being there for him and loving him. Do you want him to wake up on Christmas morning knowing you are dead? Isn’t it better he wakes up knowing he’s going to see you?’
Scott’s voice wavered. ‘You don’t know what it’s like living a double life. I hate myself. And now I have the guilt of knowing Miles has gone because of me.’
Anna stepped closer. ‘It wasn’t because of you. It was an accident. And I do know how you feel, because my parents divorced when I was little, probably the same age as George. My father left my mother and moved in with his best friend. I used to stay with them at weekends and we had lots of fun.’ She was now a whisker away from the tree and was working out how she could reach the branch on which he was standing should she need to. Her fingers searched for and gripped a Swiss Army knife she kept in her pocket.
‘Rubbish,’ Scott shouted. ‘You’re trying to keep me talking so I can’t hang myself. I’m not scared. I’ve been building myself up for this. Now back off – I’m going to jump.’ Scott looked down at the ground, his face crumpled in anxiety. Anna continued in her soft voice. ‘I didn’t lose a father. I gained another. I still visit them every Christmas. I can’t imagine not having had him there to support me. In my darkest hours, I might even have tried to take my own life, had it not been for him.’
Scott hesitated, then his shoulders began shaking and he slid to a seated position on the branch. Anna raised her arm, got a foothold on the tree and hauled herself up to the first branch. Then, from there, she climbed onto the same branch as Scott. She reached up and sawed through the rope with one swift movement. The end fell away and Scott put his head in his hands once more and wept.
Sixty-Three
It was a little after seven on Sunday evening when Matt called the office. Robyn’s eyes opened wide in surprise. ‘What? He got away. After all that, he escaped?’
Matt sounded furious, his words echoing through the receiver. ‘We were in position. We were waiting for Lord Bishton to confirm the identity of the driver and follow it at a discreet distance. He absolutely refused to be driven in an unmarked car to Weston Hall.
‘He suddenly moved away from the vehicle and went back into the Hall, where he phoned to say the man driving was a phoney. The man claimed the usual chauffeur had been taken ill. It didn’t ring true to Lord Bishton, who only this morning had spoken to that same chauffeur to confirm pick-up times. Bishton was quick-witted, and before he got into the vehicle, voiced his concern about Len the chauffeur’s health, knowing the chauffeur is not called Len. He also invented a wife called Sarah, and the chauffeur didn’t question either name. Bishton declared he’d forgotten something, went inside and called us. Something spooked our man. As Bishton was speaking to us, the Mercedes set off. We lost it at a crossroads. It must have either darted down a track or gone off in another direction.’
Robyn kept her cool. This wasn’t the fault of any of her officers. She stared at the whiteboard and the photographs of Dan and his victims. Everything felt like it was a film on fast-forward.
‘Okay, wait for instructions.’
She paced the room, her head now aching, and stood in front of the board. The answer to this was up there. She looked again at the photograph of Dan with his sister and mother at Stowe Pool, at Harriet Worth who had run around the reservoir on a regular basis. The whole case revolved around Harriet Worth, and a man who claimed to have loved her. It had begun at Stowe Pool and the murders were linked to Harriet’s accident at Bromley Hall.
She listened to the steady beat of her heart. Stowe Pool, Harriet Worth, drowning. The pieces were there. Dan had great affection for Stowe Pool. Harriet resembled his mother. Dan had fallen in love with Harriet. Harriet had drowned. There was a chance that Dan had gone back to where this all started – Stowe Pool. She had no proof of this, only her instinct. Mulholland would thoroughly disapprove of her actions. She heard Davies telling her to follow her instinct…
The completed crossword lies discarded on the settee and Davies has an arm around her shoulder as they watch the flames leaping and dancing in the fireplace.
She kisses his stubbly face.
‘You are way better at crosswords than me. You work out the clues so patiently, little by little. I get bored too quickly. Once I can’t see an immediate answer, I’m off doing something else.’
‘Gradatim,’ he replied with a smile. ‘It means gradually, step by step. That’s how conundrums are best approached. Whenever I have a problem to solve and I can’t see the answer immediately, I work out a bit of it and then another until it becomes apparent. However, sometimes I am not correct and you, you impatient person, nearly always are. You see things in a completely different way to me, and you have a terrific instinct. I wish I had that.’
‘Right now my instinct is telling me to leap on top of you, wrestle you into submission and have my wicked way with you.’
‘As I said, DI Carter, you have terrific instinct and should always follow it.’
She had to take the chance even if she was wrong. ‘Matt, head to Lichfield, and more specifically, Stowe Pool. I think Williams might be going there.’
She dashed to Mulholland’s office and, without waiting, knocked and entered. ‘I think our perp’s headed to Stowe Pool.’
Louisa studied her. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘Dan Williams used to go there as a child with his mother, who looks a little like Harriet Worth. Dan met Harriet at Stowe Pool and became obsessed with her. Their meetings were always at Stowe Pool, and then there’s this whole water thing. Harriet drowned. I have a feeling Dan Williams might try and drown himself too.’
‘If so, why not at Bromley Hall?’
‘I can’t answer that, other than he can’t go back to Bromley Hall. He’s guessed we know his identity and will be trying to avoid all his usual haunts.’
Mulholland drew a breath. ‘Robyn, you look totally exhausted. I worry that you’ve driven yourself too hard over this case. Are you capable of making sound judgements?’
‘I hope so. I am convinced that’s where he’s headed. Can you get roadblocks arranged?’
‘If this is a mistake—’
‘It won’t be.’
Robyn dashed to her car and left the car park, tyres squealing. She had to be right. This time it really was her head on the line.
The three spires of the cathedral loomed as she drove along the main road to Lichfield. Shoppers exiting a large supermarket impeded her route and she wished she had brought a squad car to move them out of the way. She rang Matt, but there was no reply. As she got closer to the cathedral, it was evident that officers had been drafted in. A car blocked the main road by a small roundabout, and the traffic was being diverted. She wound down the passenger window, leant across brandishing her ID and shouted to be let through. The officer in charge was slow to react. All the while, her heart hammered.
She tore down the road, past the quaint historical buildings, searching for the turning to the cathedral. There, on Cathedral Close, another police car, blue lights flashing, stood by the huge pillars of the Gothic cathedral. The policeman jogged across to her. She recognised him as PC Ashton, a young officer from her station.
‘He went that way, ma’am. I don’t know if they caught him.’
She followed th
e road past the cathedral and turned right towards the town centre where she saw three squad cars behind a Mercedes, the driver’s door wide open.
She ignored the policemen ahead of her hunting in shop doorways, torch beams searching out the dark corners, and raced directly to the reservoir. It was mostly in darkness, moonlight slipping through clouds to shine on the dark surface of the water. Dan had to be here. She spotted officers patrolling the playing fields, hunting under bushes and behind trees. The water shimmered as a bird flapped its wings, causing ripples that stretched out until they lapped against the path. Stowe Pool was slightly kidney-shaped, preventing her from seeing all of it. She brought to mind the photograph of Dan, his sister and mother, taken here at the reservoir. Would he come to that very spot? It seemed too obvious, but it was worth checking. She moved forward, her boots trampling damp grass. Some ducks huddled on the banks became unsettled, their angry quacking shattering the silence of the evening. Her eyes searched out any movement.
An officer searched the bushes on the other side of the reservoir, near the first exit that led into a housing estate. Williams could have taken that route and disappeared back into the streets of Lichfield. This was hopeless. There were five exits. He could easily have fled from the reservoir and they would have an almighty job finding him. She wondered if she should ask for the assistance of the police helicopter with its heat-seeking camera.
She caught a glimpse of hurried movement ahead of her and heard a shout. It was Matt. She sprinted towards him, a tight knot of anxiety in her stomach. The light from her torch bounced in front of her. Beside her, disturbed birds began to wake from their slumber and stir as she ran past. Matt was chasing someone ahead of her. She raced on, determined to catch them up. This wasn’t a marathon; she needed all her reserves of energy to fly after them. The scene in front became blurred: a confusion of arms and legs, two bodies entwined; shouts, then as she drew closer, the men pulled apart and one slumped to the bench. The other drew back, hands on knees, catching his breath. The knot inside her tightened as she recognised the man to be Dan Williams.
She yelled, ‘Matt.’ Her voice sounded loud to her own ears but Matt did not respond. Instead, he rose and lurched forward at the shadow, now at the edge of Stowe Pool. Her torch beam picked out the dark figures, silhouetted against the water as Matt struggled to get a hold on Williams. Then came an explosive splash as both tumbled into the water and urgent thrashing sounds as they continued fighting. A group of geese became agitated, their wings beating like manic drummers, and their frightened honking filling the night sky. She called again, standing by the side of the pool, her eyes scanning the dark water, searching for the men. A cacophony of noise rose into the night as ducks joined the geese and their combined calls blotted out all other sound. She trained her torch beam on the water, finally alighting on two figures, arms flailing. She couldn’t see faces. Arms and hands rose and fell, slapping against the water. Then one man rose like a demented sea serpent, dark hair slick to his deformed head, and pushed the other below the surface, pressing and holding him under the water. The Leopard was drowning Matt.
Breath coming in small puffs, she tore at her jacket and yanked it and the communications unit off, tugged at her shoes, threw everything onto the ground and dived into the water, the cold taking her breath away. She told herself it was only like taking part in a triathlon and breathed regularly, ignoring the icy fingers that gripped her legs. She was a strong swimmer. She pushed off towards Matt and Dan, ignoring the pondweed and stench. The men were no longer struggling and fighting. They had stirred up silt, making visibility impossible, but she was sure they were in the water nearby. She would have to dive down and find Matt. She wasn’t losing a good man to this maniac.
She snatched a breath and dived deep, arms outstretched, eyes open. In the darkness her eyes strained to spot the slightest movement. It was hopeless. Suddenly, she made out a figure within arm’s length, and powering her legs, she lurched forward and grasped his jacket, dragging him to the surface. She emerged gasping and pulled the man towards her. Her heart hammered. The man was in a suit not a uniform. A gleam of moonlight on the surface of the water confirmed her fears. His long dark hair gave it away. She had saved the wrong man. In her arms was the Lichfield Leopard.
She was about to shove him to one side and dive again for Matt when the geese fell quiet for a moment and she heard a faint splash followed by a gasp.
‘Matt?’
‘Here,’ came the reply. ‘I’m okay. I’ve lost him. I can’t find the Leopard.’
‘I’ve got him,’ she called. Relief flooded her body, warming it. Matt was all right. As quickly as it had started, the flapping of wings ceased, and in its place came the steady strokes of someone swimming towards her. Beside her, the Leopard stirred. He was alive.
‘I wasn’t going to let him get away. Once was bad enough,’ Matt said. He clipped the handcuffs holding their prisoner to the bench.
Dan was bent double and was groaning. Robyn ignored him as she slipped on her shoes and collected her jacket from the side of the pool. She was cold and soaking wet, but relieved. Fellow officers, their beams now trained on the three of them, were approaching. Matt, face white, uniform dripping onto the path, waited for her. She stood in front of the man they had been hunting. ‘Mr Williams, you are under arrest for the murders of Rory Wallis, Linda Upton and Jakub Woźniak.’
Dan pulled himself upright, his face a mask of misery. ‘Harriet didn’t come. She was supposed to meet me on our bench and she hasn’t come. We were supposed to go there together, hand in hand, to the doorway.’
Robyn glanced in the direction he indicated. Dan had always intended drowning himself in Stowe Pool.
‘Harriet isn’t here. She’s angry with me because I didn’t kill Dawson or Bishton. She wanted them all dead and I let her down. If I wait, she might still come.’ Grief took him again and he sobbed – noisy, angry sobs that made his shoulders shudder.
Robyn nodded at Matt who released one cuff from the bench and hauled the man to his feet. ‘She was never coming,’ he said, as he forced the man’s hands behind his back and clipped the handcuffs on them.
Sixty-Four
‘Scott Dawson was found alive in Matlock. We’ll be looking into charging him with obstructing justice. And Lord Bishton has caught the flight back to Thailand. The driver at the chauffeur service was found unharmed, bound in the boot of his vehicle.’
Louisa Mulholland nodded her approval. ‘It was a close one, Robyn. Closer than I would have liked, yet there is no doubt you have a dedicated team and you got the results. After you’ve interviewed Williams and got a confession, I want you to take some enforced rest. You will be no good to your team if you constantly drive yourself into the ground. Take the rest of the week off and recover.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’ Robyn turned to leave, then paused. ‘I heard you had an interview.’
‘You heard correctly. I was going to mention it to you when you had less on your mind. I decided to put myself forward for promotion and the new position we discussed. It might be time for me to move to pastures new.’
‘I’ll be sad to see you go.’
‘It’s not a done deal yet. I had rather hoped to put you up for my present position. Unfortunately, the powers that be don’t feel you’re ready yet. Give them reason to believe in you, Robyn. I think you’d make a very good chief inspector. Work for it.’
‘Have they anyone in mind to replace you?’
‘I really don’t know.’
Robyn gave a short laugh. ‘If it’s Shearer, I’m going to request a transfer to Yorkshire.’
‘Where you’d be most welcome.’
Mitz was sitting opposite Dan Williams. He spoke into the recording device. ‘It is nine fifty-nine and DI Carter has just entered the room.’
The man opposite her was ghostly pale. He glanced at her then turned his look to his hands, fingers so tightly intertwined his knuckles were white.
‘Mr Williams,
I’m DI Carter. You know why you’re here. You’re being charged on several counts of murder and the attempted murder of Alan Worth. Is there anything you want to say?’
Dan studied his nails, maintaining his silence.
‘Please don’t make this harder for yourself. We have evidence that will prove you murdered several victims and injured others. We believe you attacked and murdered these people to avenge the death of Harriet Worth.’
He looked up then and gave a smirk that chilled her to the bone.
‘We have forensic evidence that links you to all the scenes of crime. Is there anything you want to say?’
Dan sat back in his chair, the smile still on his face. ‘Go on, charge me. I don’t care any more. Harriet still loves me. Those people deserved to pay for her death and I made sure they did. Harriet is very proud of me.’
‘I doubt it. I don’t think any woman would be proud of you murdering a housewife with a small child. We have our confession. Take him to the cells.’
Outside, she leant against the door, her heart beating too fast. Shearer was watching. ‘Okay?’
She nodded. ‘Got the bastard.’
He smiled, small creases around his eyes. ‘Well done, Carter.’
‘It feels like a hollow victory. He’s not right in the head, and so many people have died. I feel I should have caught him sooner.’
He put a hand on her shoulder. She felt its warmth seep into her.
‘We always feel like that. You did good. You’ve put a nutcase out of harm’s way, and tomorrow is another day.’
He left his hand there for a moment longer then pulled away. ‘I’ll treat you and your team to a pint at the pub later to celebrate.’
A swift drink was probably what she needed. And tomorrow was another day, one she intended spending with Amélie.
