by Liz Mistry
Gus, firefighter at his side, edged closer. ‘Well, the first thing you can fucking do is get those fucking handcuffs off her.’
‘She’s been classed as dangerous. Attempted murder of a fellow officer, the cuffs stay on.’
‘She’s just lost a colleague in that blaze. Give her a break.’
The younger officer smiled. ‘Sure she didn’t do him in? She’s got form for that.’
Gus’ fist clenched and as his hand drew back to land one on the smirking face, he felt a firm hand on his arm. Nancy kept her grip on his arm, but didn’t meet his gaze. She raised herself to her full height. ‘It’s customary for the DCI to be notified if one of her officers is to be arrested.’
The older man shrugged. ‘Just carrying out orders, ma’am.’
Stepping forwards, Nancy put out her hands, one on each of Alice’s cheeks. ‘We’ve got this, Al. We’ll sort this out. But, right now, my hands are tied.’
Seemingly responding to the human touch, a smile touched Alice’s lips as she jiggled her handcuffed hands. ‘Seems mine are tied too, boss.’
Nancy kissed her cheek and moved away to allow Gus to give her an awkward hug. Gus, ignoring the men on either side of her, saw that the glazed look had gone from her eyes. She looked frightened and there was a slight tremble on her bottom lip as she smiled. Gus had never seen her so brave. Unable to say anything, he hugged her in silence, but Alice took the opportunity to whisper in his ear. ‘Sean’s got mates all over the force. Loads of them must have been in his back pocket before. Half of them always thought I framed him. This could get mucky. Distance yourself from me, Gus. Don’t tarnish your reputation by supporting me.’ She pulled away from him. ‘Tell Sampson’s folks how sorry I am.’
His entire body rigid, Gus watched as Alice was marched towards the police vehicle. An elfin figure between two trolls. He’d have those bastards if they so much as put one of the hairs on her head out of place. For a moment all the activity around him merged into the background. His head was full of mince and his chest pounding like a death knell, ponderous and grim. He turned in time to see Jez Hopkins watching Alice being put into the unmarked vehicle. If Gus was in any position to judge he’d say that the look on the reporter’s face was dismay. Could he have feelings for Alice? Gus studied the other man for a moment as the car pulled away and then said, ‘Which one of my officers leaked information about this case to you?’
Jez, eyes still on the moving vehicle, said ‘It wasn’t Al, Gus. Never in a million years. It was an anonymous source, but, between you and me, I wouldn’t look much further than Steven Knowles. Not that it’ll do you any good. The bastard’s as greasy as a mechanic’s spanner.’ Before Gus could reply, the reporter winked and moved away. Gus disliked Knowles intensely, yet he had nothing to pin this on him. Bloody git would get away with it… as usual.
90
07:30 The Fort
When he walked back into The Fort, the weight of Sampson’s family’s grief was still with Gus and he wasn’t looking forward to telling Compo that as well as losing one colleague, Alice had been arrested and was in a cell in Surrey awaiting trial for the attempted murder of her former lover and boss, Sean Kennedy.
On the way in, Hardeep, his expression grim, had handed him a bundle of newspapers. Leaning against the wall in the lift as it transported him upstairs, Gus had shuffled them under his arm and one-handedly opened The Mail. As expected, Alice was front page news on the national tabloids, whilst the local newspapers were full of the fire and Simon Proctor’s brief resurrection.
Nancy had hotfooted it down south first thing and was calling in personal favours left, right and centre to find out what they had on Alice that was so compelling. What evidence would be enough to put Alice behind bars? It certainly wasn’t the word of a crooked drug dealer who’d altered his story. Much as Gus wanted to storm down there himself, he’d have to trust Nancy to deal with it. He had enough on his plate right now, dealing with the Simon Proctor mess.
Proctor’s parents had been taken to the hospital last night to see their son. In the short space of time that Kyle Button had access to Simon, he’d done a lot of damage and it was touch and go whether the boy would survive. On a personal level, Gus couldn’t care less, however, on a professional level he wanted to see him tried and imprisoned for what he’d done. The boy had single-handedly been responsible for ruining a lot of lives.
Pushing open the door, Gus flinched. His team had been decimated. Someone had been in and cleared Alice’s desk (for evidence purposes, no doubt) and Compo was in the process of packing all of Sampson’s belongings into a cardboard box.
Compo’s head jerked up when Gus walked in and Taffy, who was huddled behind a computer in the corner of the room, stood and moved over. The two young men looked at Gus as if he could solve everything. Their expressions were grief-stricken, yet hopeful.
Gus sighed. His head felt like it had swollen to twice its normal size and he wasn’t sure he could hold it up for much longer. Tea sloshed around in his stomach, making it gurgle.
He’d never forget Mrs Sampson’s face when he told her. Sitting in her living room, he was soon surrounded by Sampson’s many sisters, and from every surface and wall, Sampson’s smiling eyes taunted him. The lad had been in his care and he’d let him down. He should have taken better care of him. Refocussing his gaze on Compo and Taffy, he took a deep breath and exhaled. He needed to look after these two now. That’s what Alice would have said, anyway. He squashed down his own tiredness and summoned a half smile. ‘Look, we all need some sleep. Go home. Have a few hours and come back when you’re rested.’
Compo, his tone ferocious, slammed down his box. ‘We’re not sleeping till we’ve got enough on that little piece of shit to make sure that if he wakes up, he won’t see the light of day… not ever.’
Gus’ eyes welled up. To hide the emotion Compo’s words had ignited, he moved over to get some coffee, before saying, ‘Okay, Compo. What have we got?’
Compo moved to his computer. ‘Hissing Sid and co found a whole load of stuff in the Button’s garage, which, thanks to the firefighters, was completely unburnt. Some of Simon’s clothes, a bracelet belonging to Sue Downs and a ring of Jenny Gregg’s. Alongside that was a printed scale drawing of the old St Augustine’s Church which showed underground rooms; and an old key. We’ve already sent a team there and it’s an interesting find. You’ll want to head down there soon, Gus.’
Gus drained his cup and got to his feet with a reluctance born of extreme weariness. No rest for the wicked.
‘Eh… Gus?’ Compo shuffled his feet, ‘We got some lab test results back on the girl found in Cottingley Ridge. Name is Julie Dyson, apparently, fifteen-year-old runaway.’
Gus sighed. With everything that had gone on in the past twelve hours, he hadn’t even thought about that poor girl. With any luck it’ll be a straightforward case of a pimp gone rogue and they’d be able to make an easy arrest. Seeing that Compo was waiting for permission to continue, Gus waved his hand at him.
‘Well, when your da… I mean, Dr McGuire found the traces of semen on the back of the neck, he decided to see if he could lift any latents. He got an expert in and they got lucky. Found prints from a middle and index finger from each hand. They pulled up a match.’
Gus frowned when he saw that Compo’s face had darkened to a deep beetroot colour. ‘Well?’
‘Steven Knowles.’ Compo’s shuffling was more frenetic.
‘What?’
‘Steven Knowles. The prints match the ones we have on record for him, I’m betting the semen will match him, too. Also, one of Julie’s friends came forward and identified Knowles as having picked Julie up the night she died. Says he’s a sleazy bastard, always after free blow jobs. Says Julie told her she’d been friends with Knowles’ daughter. Shall I get someone to bring him in or wait till he turns up for shift?’
‘Fucking hell!’ The words spurted from Gus’ mouth like shrapnel. ‘Hopkins told me Knowles was our leak
. I thought the bastard had got away with it. Well, he won’t be getting away with this. Not a bloody chance. Get him brought in.’
91
08:45 The Fort
Gus had planned it down to the last detail. He felt that not only did Julie Dyson deserve this, but the whole of Bradford Police did, too. Dirty officers were the bane of the service’s life and this would give clean officers something back. Something to remember. It would also be a warning to any tempted to stray onto the dark side. He also wanted it for Alice. She’d hated Knowles, hadn’t trusted him an inch and neither had Gus. Knowles deserved this.
Someone’s phone buzzed. Gus glanced at Compo who nodded. Gus stepped forward and looked along the officers he’d directed to line up along the corridor. Apart from his own team, the other officers wore puzzled expressions. Some shuffled their feet, perhaps anticipating a rollicking of some description, others bounced on their toes, keen to get it over with and carry on with their workload.
Clearing his throat, Gus stepped forward, ‘When that lift door opens, DC Steven Knowles will step into the corridor. He is under arrest for the murder of Julie Dyson. Earlier on, forensics confirmed his fingerprints were found around Julie’s neck. I have also been informed that the leak to the press from this department lies at Knowles’ door. As he walks past us we should all reflect on why we are here in this building; what our role is; and how it makes our job harder when officers like Knowles turn bad. No-one is to say a word to him, but as soon as he passes you, walk back into your offices and get on with the job we are honoured to do: keeping this city safe from predators like him.’
The lift pinged and the door swished open. All eyes were on the man who stood, an officer at either shoulder, at the lift’s door. The silence was absolute. At a nod from Gus, the officers pushed Knowles from the confines of the lift. His eyes darted from side to side as he saw his colleagues lining the corridor before him.
‘Move.’ Gus didn’t have to raise his voice to be heard, yet Knowles pulled back, jerking his arm from the officers who held him.
Gus repeated his directive, ‘Move.’
Eyes swinging between Gus and the line of officers, each of whom held their gaze steady on Knowles, he paled and licked his lips. ‘I’m not well. Need a drink… water.’
‘The interview room’s just at the end. There’s water there. Move!’
Knowles took a single step forward, licked his lips again and hesitated. He held out a hand towards one of his friends. ‘Fred? It’s not what you think.’
Fred’s lip curled up and he spun on his heel and walked back into his office, his absence leaving a thunder-like heaviness in the corridor. As if realising that drawing the walk of shame out would be worse, Knowles sped up, took three faltering steps forward and then collapsed on the floor, clutching his chest.
The officers watched him writhing on the carpet tiles, yet no-one moved. Gus stepped closer, then dropping to his knees, he began loosening Knowles’ tie. ‘Get an ambulance here now. The fucker’s having a heart attack!’ and without waiting to see if his orders were being obeyed, Gus began compressions, interspersed with mouth-to-mouth. ‘Come on, come on! You… fucker… you’re… not… going… to… die.’
All at once, Taffy was at his side. ‘You do compressions, I’ll do mouth-to-mouth, Gus.’
A single nod and Gus moved back, giving Taffy space, oblivious to the buzz of chatter around them. Working in tandem with Taffy, Gus put as much effort in as he could, trying to force life back into Knowles’ dark heart. ‘Not… fucking… here. Not… fucking… now. You’re going to pay for what you’ve done.’ Yet, somewhere deep inside, Gus knew that wasn’t going to be the case. When the paramedics arrived minutes later, Gus’ shoulders were aching and Taffy’s face was red from exertion. They pulled Gus away from Knowles and slid onto the floor beside the dying man. Twice Gus heard the buzz of the defibrillator followed by a dull thud before the paramedics stood up, shaking their heads.
Gus’ chest clogged up with the tension of the previous ten minutes. The bastard had denied them justice in the end. How could it be that Alice… quirky, gutsy, innocent Alice was locked up in a prison, when the real guilty parties had escaped justice?
Steven Knowles had abused his position and, it seemed, had escaped punishment for his deeds.
Simon Proctor had destroyed numerous lives, killed a lot of people and he, too, was escaping justice.
He didn’t care for himself, no. Gus cared about the families who had to continue their lives, knowing that the person who’d killed their loved ones had escaped punishment. What sort of fucking justice was that? Hell, even Kyle Button would end up with a custodial sentence for what he’d done to his wife’s killer and the upshot of that was that Ali had lost both her parents in one fell swoop and would end up back in foster care again. It was always the damn innocents who suffered.
92
10:30 St Augustine’s Church
Gus managed to hobble down the stairs into the deep recesses of the room which was part of the original structure of St Augustine’s Church. Anthony Evans had known about it, but because it was so cold and so far under the church, he hadn’t given it a thought in years. The entrance was at the bottom end of the old cemetery and had been far enough away from the preacher’s new build to be almost private.
Evidence that Simon Proctor had been camping out there was everywhere, although the most damning evidence against him was the fact that Compo had managed to uncover the various encryptions on the video of Simon in captivity. Despite Simon’s best efforts, Compo managed to bounce it all back to an old computer of Simon’s that his parents thought he’d lost. Matty, when asked about where Simon might hide something like a computer, had gone down to his cellar and retrieved it. Simon had told him he needed a new laptop and wanted to pretend his old one had been left on the bus one day, so Matty had hidden it for him.
Gus had no doubt they’d find copious quantities of his DNA in the room. Not that they needed it to prove Proctor had been there. His own video footage did that. In one corner of the room was a rickety camp bed, it stank of sweat and excrement and the chemi loo was overflowing. When they’d examined Simon’s rucksack they found a stash of money and jewellery. Gus reckoned that someone as devious as Simon Proctor would have had a backup plan, and he was sure it involved the money and jewellery. He reckoned Mrs Proctor would recognise most of the jewellery as hers.
Standing in the middle of the room, Gus turned in a slow circle. There was the camera the lad had set up himself. The rickety bed. What sort of person would make such an intricate and devious plan to get revenge on a man who’d already lost so much?
The psychiatrists would have a field day if Simon Proctor ever woke up. The diaries they’d recovered from his rucksack revealed the full extent of his crimes. Many deliberately set fires in the district could now be attributed to him, but what Gus found even more chilling was the account of a ten-year-old boy planning to kill the social worker he’d loved because he’d misunderstood her intentions when she’d said she’d keep him safe and get him away from his abusive foster parents. When she told him she was getting married and was having a baby, the ten-year-old Simon had been devastated and, already damaged, he planned a terrible revenge. If Amina Rose couldn’t be his mummy then she would be no-one’s mummy. Simon blamed Kyle Button for being the obstacle to his happiness. The almost inconceivable account of him locking his foster parents and the other foster children in the living room, and the social worker in his bedroom, was heart-breaking. If things had gone to plan, Simon would have escaped unharmed. His biggest gripe had been that his miscalculation of how fast the fire would spread had prevented him from having the satisfaction of seeing his own handiwork. He had been desperate to make Amina Rose’s fiancé, Kyle Button, suffer.
Over the years since Simon had been with the Proctors, raising the occasional fire had sufficed, until he’d recognised Kyle Button. Seeing him with a new family had been the trigger for Simon to plan his reven
ge. Whatever it took, Simon was determined to deny Button any happiness.
What affected Gus the most, were the incoherent ramblings that interspersed completely lucid sections of writing. He suspected that should Simon Proctor recover enough to be held accountable for his actions, these rambling texts may be enough to put him in a psychiatric hospital rather than a young offenders’ institution. Niggling at Gus was the question of how someone so organised could be so insane.
January 2018
Epilogue
13:30 HM Prison Downview, Surrey
She looked gaunt and tired and she held her entire body taut as if expecting to be attacked. Nancy had told Gus that Alice had already been attacked three times.
Prison was no place for a police officer and Gus was sure that Sean Kennedy would have put the word out that Alice was to be ‘taken care of’. He worried about her. Nancy said she’d given as good as she got, but that wasn’t the point. She didn’t belong in here and it was taking too long to get her name cleared. Officers were crawling out of the woodwork in defence of Sean Kennedy and things were progressing too slowly. Alice’s lawyers were ‘hopeful’, still Gus didn’t trust them, ‘hopeful’ wasn’t enough… not for Alice.
‘Told you not to come, Gus.’ Alice looked everywhere but at him.
Noticing her lower her eyes, he glanced over to where she’d last been looking. A tall woman with straggly red hair glared at him and then winked, before turning her attention back to her own visitor. Gus wondered if he’d endangered Alice even more by visiting. ‘You okay, Al?’
A hard look came in her eyes and her chin lifted. She scraped her chair back from the table and took a deep breath. ‘How many more times do I have to tell you to piss off? I’m not your fucking snitch. Go and swivel on a pointed pencil somewhere. Fuck off.’
