The Torment of Others

by Val McDermid

  ‘Your car’s pretty nondescript. We could drive up and just turn into somebody’s drive near her house. There’s not much light, and it’s not like we’d be doing anything suspicious.’

  Kevin drove slowly up the cul-de-sac. Almost at once, he spotted Jan’s distinctive car. ‘Looks like she’s at home,’ he said.

  ‘Stick to the plan,’ Carol replied. ‘There, that one on the right a couple of doors down from hers. The house will shield us from her line of sight if we pull right up the drive.’

  ‘What now?’ Kevin asked. ‘We could just front her up. Arrest her on suspicion and do a search.’

  Something was niggling at the corner of Carol’s mind. ‘Does anyone know where Tony is?’

  ‘He said he was going home to write his profile,’ Stacey reminded her.

  Carol took out her phone and speed-dialled Tony’s home number. It rang a few times then the machine kicked in. She waited for the beep, then said, ‘Tony, it’s Carol. If you’re there, pick up. It’s urgent.’ She waited for half a minute, then cut off the call. She tried his mobile, but it rang out interminably without an answer. ‘Oh shit,’ she said, a terrible apprehension hitting her.

  There’s no reason to suppose he’s in there,’ Kevin said anxiously.

  ‘Apart from that little pantomime with Jan’s lost keys earlier.’ Carol felt the pieces sliding into place, the picture forming in her mind’s eye.

  ‘What little pantomime?’

  ‘Jan mislaid her keys. And Tony stepped out of absent-minded professor role long enough to remind her she hadn’t locked her car. How likely is that, on both counts? But I just didn’t see it at the time.’ She swallowed hard. ‘He’s in there, Kevin. In there with her.’

  ‘We don’t know that,’ he said.

  ‘We need to find out. Stay there,’ Carol ordered, opening the car door, ignoring the looks of dismay on her colleagues’ faces. She walked to the corner of the building and sneaked a look round it. She was at a tangent to Jan’s house. She could see part of the living room, which was empty. The front window upstairs was also brightly lit. Anyone watching from in there would be visible from where Carol was standing. Time to take a chance.

  She sprinted along the front of the house, jumping a low hedge and crossing the garden of the house next door. That brought her to the edge of Jan’s drive, alongside her car. A big window towards the rear of the gable end spilled light on to the paved blocks of the drive and splashed it up the side of the garage. She calculated that if she could make it to the far end of the window undetected, she could use the shelter of the garage to look into the window from far enough away not to be obvious to anyone inside.

  She crouched down and circled behind the car, making it to the gable end and flattening herself against the wall. She edged up until she was almost level with the window, then crouched down and crept along below the sill for a few feet before straightening up. She was just outside the oblong of light. Taking a deep breath, she covered the distance to the rear of the garage in seconds.

  Relying on the pool of shadow to obscure her, Carol turned and stood up. She had a clear line of angled vision into the dining room. She could see Jan from the waist up. And, slightly to one side of her, she could see the back of Tony’s head. Her chest tightened. Why the fuck didn’t you call me? As she watched, Jan’s right hand came up into view in what looked from that distance to be a casual gesture.

  But there was nothing casual about the knife that refracted light in a gleaming line that seemed to cut to Carol’s very heart.

  The insistent chirrup of Tony’s mobile stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Jan nodded. ‘Good boy. You didn’t even try to answer it.’

  ‘This is what you like, isn’t it? The moment of power. Control. The world bent to your will.’

  She cocked her head. ‘If you say so.’

  ‘I know so. It was a beautiful idea. Working on mentally susceptible men, making them your tools. A double dose of power. You control them and they control the victim according to your script. I take my hat off to you. It can’t have been easy, getting them word perfect.’

  She smiled. ‘I know what you’re trying to do. And it isn’t going to work. There’s no point in playing for time when the cavalry don’t know where you are.’

  He stood up. ‘I’m not playing for time.’

  ‘Sit down,’ she ordered him.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘You know there’s no way out for you.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘I told you. I can make it look like you tried to set me up. I caught you in the act, we struggled, you died.’

  ‘Underestimating the opposition. It’s the one mistake that brings people down more than any other.’

  She gave a derisory snort. ‘What’s to underestimate? We both know where the power resides. I’m a cop. You? You’re just a very strange little man who weirds people out.’

  ‘No, no, you misunderstand me. I’m not your problem. I don’t actually mind dying, you see. No, your problem is Carol Jordan. I told her what I suspected. OK, she laughed at me. But if anything happens to me, she’ll come after you.’

  She looked scornful. ‘Carol Jordan doesn’t scare me.’

  ‘That’s what I mean about underestimating the opposition. She should scare you. Because, contrary to what you think about her, she’s not afraid of getting her hands dirty. She won’t be hiding behind some poor inadequate sod like Derek Tyler or Carl Mackenzie. She’ll take you down, and she’ll do it in the worst way.’

  ‘I’ll take my chances.’

  He turned away. ‘I don’t think so. You’re too accustomed to making other people take them for you.’

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ she yelled, her control suddenly slipping.

  He glanced back at her. ‘I’m tired of talking. You’re history and I’m going home.’

  Galvanized into action, she lunged forward and grabbed his arm, spinning him towards her. Then the knife was in the air, gleaming between them, searching for flesh.

  As soon as she saw the knife, Carol knew there was no time for anything other than action. She raced to the back door of the house, making a lunge for the door handle. To her surprise, it gave under her hand and she half-tumbled, half-ran into the kitchen. She saw a freeze-frame of Jan bearing down on Tony, the weapon hidden from her by their bodies. His mouth opened in a scream of pain. ‘Drop the knife,’ Carol yelled desperately at the top of her voice as she crossed the kitchen in a handful of strides.

  At the sound of her cry, Jan hesitated long enough for Tony to stagger out of the arc of her knife. She glanced back at Carol, turned to flash a look of hatred at him before Carol launched herself across the last few feet between them.

  Carol’s momentum drove them both crashing to the floor in a struggling tangle of limbs. At first, Carol had no idea where the knife was and she scrabbled for purchase so she could pin down Jan’s wrist.

  ‘Let me go,’ Jan shouted. ‘You’re hurting me.’

  ‘Drop the knife,’ Carol yelled back, her face inches from the other woman’s.

  ‘I dropped it already.’ The words came out almost as a scream. ‘Get off me.’ Her body bucked under Carol. Then suddenly Tony was on the floor beside them, pinning Jan’s shoulders to the floor with his knees. Blood was streaming from one of his hands, and he clutched it to his chest.

  The knife’s on the floor, Carol,’ he said.

  Carol eased back, panting, her weight keeping Jan’s lower body immobilized. ‘You’re making a big mistake,’ Jan gasped.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Carol said. ‘Jan Shields, I am arresting you on suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder…’

  ‘You don’t get it, do you?’ Jan howled.

  ‘Save it for the interview room. You do not have to say anything…’

  ‘Carol, listen to me,’ Jan said, dragging all her resources together to give her voice the note of assured command. ‘I’m the victim here. You need to listen to me.’

  Don
Merrick couldn’t remember ever having been so cold in his life. He’d gone beyond shivering and into a kind of physical trance, his body numb and heavy. And still no sign of Nick Sanders.

  He’d reached Achmelvich in the early evening, at the end of a single-track road that cut high above the slender finger of a sea loch. The occasional tree he’d passed had been bent double, a marker to indicate the force and direction of the prevailing wind.

  It was hardly worth giving a name to, he thought. There was the youth hostel, closed for the winter, and a handful of low cottages hunched along a spine of rock that stretched out into the sea. Only one of the cottages was showing a light. He wondered if he should ask for directions, but figured it couldn’t be that hard to find this Hermit’s Castle.

  He’d been wrong, of course. He’d spent the best part of an hour clambering over rocks in the wrong shoes, stumbling on loose stones, nearly tumbling headlong into the sea at one point. When he’d finally found it, he’d almost walked straight past it.

  Exhausted, cold and bruised, he shone his torch over the tiny concrete structure. It was nestled in a gap in the rocks, a grey box scarcely seven feet high with a small chimney curved over the roof like a tail. There was a doorway but no door. It led to a narrow passage that curved round, apparently designed to keep out the wind and the rain. It gave on to a tiny cell, barely six feet across. Along one side was a concrete shelf the size and shape of a single bed. Opposite was an open hearth. And that was it. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to do anything much. He couldn’t imagine spending a day there, never mind a year.

  Merrick went back outside and shone his torch around. Nothing to do but wait. He’d give it till ten, he decided, then leave. If Nick Sanders arrived after that, he wouldn’t be going anywhere before morning. If, of course, he was coming there at all.

  A short distance beyond the hideaway, Merrick found a sheltered space in the rocks and hunkered down. He’d come across a petrol station earlier where he’d managed to buy a heavy rubber torch, some cans of Coke, a couple of packets of biscuits and some crisps. He’d also bought a hideous handknitted jumper which he’d hoped might protect him against the cold. It didn’t seem to be helping much.

  The sound of the sea crashing against the rocks was hypnotic. There were moments when he felt himself drifting into a doze, starting awake only because his body shifted and some part of him hit a different bit of rock. Thoughts of Lindy and his sons drifted in confusion around his head. They were why he was here. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind, he knew that a large part of the reason he was so determined to bring Tim and Guy’s murderer to justice personally was that he felt it would be a kind of talisman, an act that would protect him from the prospect of losing his own boys. It almost assuaged the guilt he felt at abandoning Paula. But there were dozens of people out there working to bring Paula back, and nobody but him who cared enough about Tim and Guy to take a chance on this most slender of leads.

  It was just after seven when he realized that there was another sound in the distance, a different note from the surge and crash of the sea. There was no doubt about it. It was a car. He shifted his position, trying to rub some life back into his frozen limbs. Either it was one of the cottage residents returning after a day doing who knew what in the back of this godforsaken beyond. Or it was Nick Sanders, going to ground where he thought he’d be safe.

  The minutes passed, slow as hours. Then a glimmer of light rose behind the rocks. It grew brighter and clearer then, as it rounded an outcropping, became clearly identifiable as the steady beam of a big torch. Merrick ducked lower, though he knew there was little chance of anyone seeing him against the mass of black rock.

  The beam swung round and illuminated the Hermit’s Castle. Merrick could see nothing of the person behind the torch at first. But as the light disappeared inside the narrow passage, he could make out the shape of someone with a tall rucksack on his back. The height and bulk of the figure was, as far as he could make out, much the same as the description he’d read of Nick Sanders.

  Merrick counted to sixty, then he stood up. It took a couple of minutes for his legs to feel capable of carrying him. He used the time to make sure his handcuffs were open and ready, his grip firm on his torch. Then he picked his way across the rocks in the darkness and stepped into the mouth of the passage. He walked as lightly as he could, picking up the sounds of someone moving around. The clank of tins. The rustle of plastic bags. Then he was in the chamber, looking down at the man crouched by the concrete shelf, illuminated by the light of a lantern-style torch. There was no doubt about it. This was the man whose photograph was pinned to the whiteboard in the squadroom.

  A slow smile of satisfaction spread across Merrick’s face. ‘Nick Sanders, I am arresting you on suspicion of murder,’ he said, enjoying every word.

  He relaxed too soon. Sanders sprang up from his crouch, his momentum carrying him into Merrick and knocking him off his feet. Sanders tried to scramble over him and into the tunnel, but the space was too confined. Merrick lunged at his leg and caught him off balance. Sanders crashed into the wall and tripped up, falling backwards and cracking his head on the bed shelf.

  He grunted once, then went slack. Merrick dragged himself upright and staggered across to Sanders. He was, to Merrick’s regret, still breathing. He rolled Sanders over on to his side, not caring about the first rule of head injuries, seeing with satisfaction a swelling welt across the man’s forehead. He glanced away as he went for his handcuffs. Suddenly Sanders uncoiled and sprang upwards, grabbing the heavy torch and swinging it savagely at Merrick’s head. It caught him on the temple and at once, everything went red then black.

  Carol stared at Jan Shields, incredulity on her face. ‘You’re the victim here? Bullshit. Where’s Paula?’

  Jan’s voice dropped into a warm, lower register. ‘I have no idea, Carol. Why don’t you ask Dr Hill? Like I said, I’m the victim here. I came home to find he’d made an illegal entry into my home. I found him typing something into my laptop. I grabbed a kitchen knife to defend myself against an intruder. I have no idea how long he has been here or what he might have planted.’

  ‘Nice try, Jan,’ Tony said, his voice strained. ‘Carol, there’s a webcam feed. She’s got it saved in her favourites. It’s Paula. She’s still alive.’

  ‘Does it say where she is?’

  He shook his head. ‘Maybe Stacey can find something?’

  Jan continued as if neither of them had spoken. ‘Like I said, Carol, I found him in my home. I have no idea what he’s talking about.’

  ‘Shut up,’ Carol said savagely. She shifted her position so she could reach her phone. She dialled Kevin’s number. ‘Kevin, get up here now. Back door. Bring Stacey with you. Call for an ambulance, a SOCO team and uniformed back-up, please.’

  ‘You’re going to look very foolish, Carol,’ Jan said, a pitying smile on her lips. ‘A well-respected police officer with commendations for bravery and experience of working with the FBI defends herself against an intruder in her home, an intruder intent on framing her for murder purely to protect the failing reputation of the woman he loves…That’ll play beautifully in court, don’t you think?’

  Carol wished she could cover her ears and shut out the insidious poison coming from Jan Shields’ mouth. ‘Like I said, save it for the interview room. I hope you’ve got something put aside for a rainy day. Bronwen Scott doesn’t come cheap.’

  Jan chuckled. ‘Oh, I think I can afford a few hours of her time. That’s all it’ll take before Mr Brandon realizes what a trumped-up mess of lies there is against me. And who’s behind it.’

  Carol was spared listening to any more by the hasty arrival of Kevin and Stacey. She summoned them with a jerk of her head. ‘Cuff her and caution her, Kevin. I only got as far as “suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder”. You might want to throw assault in for good measure. Tony, you can move away now,’ she said. She waited till he was clear and Jan was flanked by the other two before she rolled off Jan’s
legs and got to her feet.

  ‘I’m sorry you’re being forced to take part in this charade, guys,’ Jan said apologetically. ‘I keep telling Carol I’m the victim here, but she’s got her own reasons for preferring to believe Tony, hasn’t she?’ She smirked at Carol as she spoke.

  ‘Get her out of my sight,’ Carol said, crossing to Tony. ‘As soon as we get some uniforms here, I want her taken back to HQ and banged up till I’m ready to talk to her.’ She took in his pallor and pulled a dining chair across for him. He slumped on the chair, holding his hand against his blood-soaked sweater. ‘How bad is it?’ she asked.

  ‘It hurts like hell. Won’t stop bleeding.’ Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Carol hurried through to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of dishtowels from their hooks. She folded them into pads and made him press them against the long slash that transversed his hand.

  After a couple of minutes that felt much longer, flashing blue lights washed across the front window. ‘That’s the ambulance,’ Carol said. ‘Come on, let’s get you on your feet.’

  By the time the paramedics had loaded Tony into the ambulance, Kevin was escorting Jan into the back seat of a police car. Stacey was about to climb in with them when Carol called her name. ‘I need you back here,’ she said. Stacey followed her into the house. ‘There’s a laptop picking up a webcam feed with live pictures of Paula. I need you to find out whatever you can, Stacey.’

  The younger woman nodded. ‘I’d be better off taking it back to the station,’ she said. ‘That way I have access to all my diagnostics.’

  ‘Fine. Just do it as fast as you can. Paula’s still alive. It’s obvious Jan’s not going to give her up, so we need to do whatever it takes to find her before that changes,’ Carol said bleakly. She watched Stacey packing up the laptop, thoughts tumbling over each other in her head. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever faced so complicated an endgame. It should have scared her, but instead it exhilarated her. She was definitely herself again. ‘Oh, and Stacey–when you get back, can you call Don Merrick on his mobile and tell him I need him here. I’m going to the hospital to take a statement from Tony. I want Don to run the search here.’