The Torment of Others

by Val McDermid

  Fifteen minutes later, she was addressing a mixed team of SOCOs and detectives. ‘We need to find where Paula is. There must be something–a rent book, a utility bill, something. You have to be fast, but you also have to be unimpeachable. I don’t have to tell you how vital this search is. Do what you need to do. Take up the carpets, shred the cushions if you have to. I don’t care if you leave the place looking like a war zone, find Paula for me.’

  She turned away and spoke to the senior officer at the scene. I’m going to the hospital to take a statement from Dr Hill before I interview Shields. As soon as you get anything, call me. I’ll have my phone switched on. To hell with their bloody heart monitors.’ She stopped on the threshold and gave the team a last level stare. ‘I know I can rely on all of you. And so does Paula.’

  Tony sat on the edge of the examination couch, a polystyrene cup of some indeterminate brownish liquid in his left hand. He’d waited less than ten minutes to be seen by the medical staff at Bradfield Cross A&E. Something to do with the amount of blood on his sweater, he suspected. Since then he’d been given a local anaesthetic, eight stitches and a cautious opinion that he probably hadn’t done any permanent damage to his hand.

  The curtains surrounding his cubicle moved and Carol’s familiar face appeared in the gap. ‘Hi,’ she said. She slipped inside, closing the curtains behind her. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘I’ll live,’ he said.

  Carol hitched herself up on the bed beside him. ‘I need to take a statement from you.’

  He gave a tired, sad smile. ‘What do you need to know?’

  ‘I need to know what happened between you and Jan. The earlier stuff–how you got there, what the hell you thought you were playing at–that can wait for later. But I want to know how it went down.’

  ‘I couldn’t think of a way to make you believe me other than hard evidence,’ he said. ‘My failure.’ He sipped from the cup. Tea, he thought, though he wouldn’t have been willing to wager anything he cared about on it. ‘Inside a file case that was hidden in her wardrobe, I found a bunch of photos and some DVD-ROMs. Photos of the victims before they were discovered. Photos presumably taken by Carl Mackenzie.’

  ‘You know about Carl?’

  He nodded. ‘Jan told me the bare bones.’ He continued with the story, up to the point where he had turned to walk away.

  ‘She came after me,’ he said. ‘I thought she would. I wanted to make her feel powerless, to lose control. That was my only chance of finding a chink in her armour that might have got me out of there alive.’ He smiled. ‘And that’s when you arrived.’

  ‘She didn’t actually confess?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. Sorry. She was already practising the line she used on you.’

  ‘Never mind,’ Carol said. ‘We’ll nail her.’

  ‘Paula?’ Tony asked.

  ‘We’re looking. We’ll find her.’ He could see the restored confidence in her face and hear it in her voice.

  In spite of his concerns for Paula, part of Tony rejoiced.

  Nick Sanders kicked the lifeless body at his feet. Bastard plod had screwed everything. He’d got it all planned. He was going to lie low for a week or two, until the hue and cry had died down and he’d had time to grow a beard. Then he was going to take the ferry across to Larne, drive down into Eire and disappear. It had all gone up in smoke now, thanks to this interfering copper. He’d have to hole up in some mountain bothy near the snow line, unable to risk venturing into populated areas. A child murderer would be off the front pages in a week by Sanders’s reckoning, but a cop killer would be Public Enemy No.1 until he was caught. Sanders had no intention of allowing that to happen.

  He repacked his rucksack, wiped the blood from the torch on Don Merrick’s sweater, then set off back across the rocky outcropping to the place where he’d left the car. It was near the end of the narrow tar-macked track that led down into the hamlet of Achmelvich, tucked away between the last cottage and the rocky headland. The low cloud robbed the landscape of light, and Sanders had to use his torch to prevent himself breaking a leg on the jagged rocks that lay between him and safety.

  Eventually he emerged on the narrow path between the boulders, his breath white in the chill air, a thin film of sweat on his back. He broke into a shambling trot. He was only feet away from his car when a set of headlights on full beam snapped on and blinded him, silhouetting his tall frame against the uneven skyline.

  A strong Highland voice rang out across the short distance between them. ‘Police. We’d like a word, sir.’

  Sanders didn’t pause. He took to his heels, running back down the path towards the sea. He heard the sound of heavy feet behind him and panicked. He veered from the path and started scrambling over the boulders. He’d barely gone a dozen yards when a pair of powerful torch beams started playing over the rocks around him, pinning him down after a few seconds. He carried on gamely, but his pursuers had the advantage of being fresh and being able to see where they were going.

  It was over in minutes. Two burly officers hauled Sanders to his feet, handcuffed him and half-dragged, half-carried him back to the path and to their waiting car. ‘What’s this all about?’ Sanders blustered as they went.

  ‘You tell us, sir. Innocent people don’t normally run away from the police,’ the older of the two officers said.

  ‘I was scared,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t see if you really were the police. For all I knew you could have been going to rob me.’

  ‘Aye, right.’ At the car, they shoved him in the back seat and turned on the interior light. ‘Nasty bump you’ve got there,’ the officer observed. ‘It’s not much of a disguise, though, Mr Sanders. We were expecting you. But we thought you’d be heading towards the Hermit’s Castle, not running away from it.’

  Sanders said nothing, mostly because he couldn’t think of anything to say. A single tear slithered from the corner of his eye and trickled slowly down his cheek.

  The older officer nodded. ‘Fine. Constable Mackie is going to stay here with you while I go and take a wee look down by the sea. I’ll not be long.’

  The hospital had discharged Tony under the mistaken belief that he was going straight home to bed. Instead, he asked the taxi driver to take him to the police station. He was tired and in pain, but there was still work to be done. He knew the only practical thing he could do to help Paula was to advise Carol on the interview techniques that might penetrate Jan Shields’ defences. So going home wasn’t an option.

  He arrived to find Carol deep in frustrated discussion with John Brandon. Jan Shields was refusing legal representation. She was also refusing to say anything whatsoever in a formal interview. Brandon looked surprisingly relieved to see Tony. ‘How are you?’ he asked, his expression one of concern and bonhomie.

  ‘Sir,’ Carol said, her voice a warning.

  ‘I know, Carol, I know. But let me at least run it past him.’

  ‘Sir, Dr Hill has suffered a traumatic experience tonight. He’s been attacked and injured, he’s exhausted and probably stuffed full of painkillers,’ she said plaintively.

  ‘Only local anaesthetic,’ Tony said. ‘I refused the painkillers. I thought I might need to have my wits about me if I was going to be questioned about planting evidence and illegal entry.’

  Carol rolled her eyes at the ceiling. ‘This is not the time or the place,’ she muttered.

  ‘Tony, we have a very unusual situation,’ Brandon said. ‘As you know, we have Jan Shields in custody. She is refusing to speak to anyone other than you. She says she will consent to a taped interview, but only if it’s conducted by you. Anybody else and she will go no comment.’

  ‘Would it be admissible evidence in court?’ Tony asked.

  Brandon shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’ll let the lawyers worry about that. What I’m concerned about is recovering Paula McIntyre alive. If Carol’s right, then Shields knows where she is. I’m willing to take a chance on losing the product of your interview with her if i
t means getting to Paula. What do you say?’

  ‘I think she just wants to play games with you, Tony,’ Carol interjected.

  ‘You’re probably right,’ he acknowledged. ‘But so’s John. If there’s any chance of saving Paula, I have to take it.’

  Tony took a last look over the notes Sam Evans had given him from his interview with Honey then took a deep breath and walked into the interview room. Jan Shields sat at the table, looking as relaxed as if she were conducting the interview. As he crossed the room, her eyes never left him. ‘Nice of you to come by, Dr Hill,’ she said. ‘I imagine our positions will soon be reversed, just as soon as we can persuade a detective who isn’t DCI Jordan to look at the evidence. Not that I’m saying you two are in cahoots. No, I think you acted entirely off your own bat. But you did it for her, and I’m sure she feels obliged to stand by you now.’

  ‘You might as well save it for the tape,’ he said genially, pressing the twin buttons as he’d been instructed. He intoned the date, time and names of those present. ‘Just for the benefit of the tape,’ he said, ‘can you make clear the circumstances of this interview?’

  ‘Certainly. I have waived the right to legal representation at this point. I have refused to communicate with any police officer and I have asked to speak to you, Dr Hill. The reason for this is that I wanted to confront personally the man who broke into my home and planted evidence there that would tend to incriminate me.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever encountered anyone with a stronger taste for power,’ Tony said conversationally. ‘When did it start? What was the point where you understood that life had dealt you a crap hand? How did you come to realize that nobody gives power, that it has to be taken? What made you realize you could strip other people to the core and steal their power from them? How did you learn the hypnotic techniques you used on Carl and Derek? I tell you, it’s going to be tough for you from now on, Jan. Because it’s like a drug to you, isn’t it? You can’t give it up, can you? Even now, when you must know in your heart that it’s over, you still need to play the power games.’

  ‘You’re the one whose career is over, Dr Hill. You broke into my house.’

  Tony shook his head. ‘I had the set of keys you lent me.’

  ‘Why would I lend you my keys?’

  ‘I wanted to borrow your set of NYPD Blue videos and you didn’t know what time you were going to get off work.’ He pushed back in his chair. ‘Any fiction you produce, I can counter it. But the weapon I’ve got that you can’t trump is truth.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ She smiled.

  ‘We’ll see, shall we? Let’s start with your sexual abuse of prostitutes.’

  He thought he spotted a momentary flash of unease, but it was gone before he could be sure. ‘You must be confusing me with someone else. I don’t pay for sex.’

  ‘I didn’t say you paid for it. We’ve got a statement from a young woman saying you coerced her into violent sex by threatening her with arrest if she wouldn’t co-operate.’

  Jan laughed, a delighted gurgling chuckle. ‘They’re coming out of the woodwork tonight, aren’t they? Dr Hill, one of the perennial risks of working Vice is malicious accusation. I can produce plenty of women with whom I have had consensual, non-violent sex. I don’t need to threaten street hookers to get laid. I think, on balance, any court will take the word of a career cop with commendations over that of some junkie whore.’

  ‘It’s not a chance I’d be willing to take,’ Tony said, his manner mild and relaxed. ‘Let’s move on to the hard physical evidence I found in your house. Not just the computer, Jan. I found your stash. The photographs, the CD-ROMs. They’ll have your prints on them.’

  She sighed and looked down at the table. ‘You’ve caught me out there, Dr Hill. Maybe I’ll make it easier on myself if I just come clean now. Yes, I do possess the material you’re talking about. But all I’m guilty of is withholding evidence. That material arrived anonymously in the post at my home. Maybe you have some idea where it came from? I know I should have turned the evidence in, but…’ She spread her hands in a disarming gesture. ‘What can I say? I’m not proud of this. I wanted to make a name for myself. I wanted to solve these crimes myself. Yes, I should have handed it over to DCI Jordan. But I wanted the glory for myself.’ She lifted her gaze and met his eye. She gave him the twinkling cherub smile. ‘I can only say how sorry I am.’

  Tony couldn’t help a sneaking admiration for her. He’d never seen anyone hold it together so well on the surface. He’d interviewed more than his share of stone-cold psychopaths, but he’d never encountered such supreme control. ‘I’ve got to say, I don’t know how you did it. It must have been a hell of a challenge, to get Derek and Carl to carry out your bidding so precisely. I’ve seen some skilled hypnotherapists in my time, but I doubt any of them could have exerted this level of mind and impulse control.’

  She shook her head pityingly. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ she said.

  ‘No? I’d have thought you’d have wanted to share the secrets of your success. You could make a lot of money teaching people like me how to achieve complete control over another human. Even if they are only pretty pathetic specimens like Carl and Derek.’ Nothing. Not a twitch. He tried another tack. ‘It’s a shame Carl Mackenzie’s dead. I’m sure he had an interesting tale to tell.’

  ‘I think so too. And I suspect I’m more sorry than you that he’s dead, because he could certainly have exonerated me. If someone was directing these murders–which I’m not convinced is true, by the way–Carl would have been able to reassure you that person was not me.’

  ‘An interesting thought, Jan. But there is one person who can still set our minds to rest on this point. Once he realizes his voice isn’t the omnipotent creature it pretends to be, once he knows we’ve got you in custody, Derek Tyler’s going to talk. Derek is alive and well, and he will talk, I promise you.’

  This time, her smile was cruel, her eyes dark with a savage humour. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that. About any of it, in fact.’

  A sudden chill crept into Tony’s heart. His mind flashed up the image of Jan leaning against the wall inside Bradfield Moor. How long had she been there waiting for him? Had she been anywhere near Derek Tyler? Had she had the chance to activate some long-buried suggestion?

  ‘What’s up, Doc?’ Jan asked, clearly enjoying the confusion she could read on his face. ‘Remembered something?’

  Tony leapt to his feet and ran for the door. Carol emerged from the observation room at the same moment. They met in the corridor. ‘She came to Bradfield Moor to fetch me,’ he said urgently. He went for his phone, keying in the number of the hospital one-handed. ‘This is Dr Hill, I need to speak to the duty charge nurse.’ He looked at Carol as he waited to be connected. ‘You need to get over there. Bring Derek Tyler here, keep someone with him twenty-four seven until I can persuade him to make a statement. He mustn’t be left alone. She’ll have programmed him to self-destruct.’ He turned his attention to the phone. ‘Vincent? It’s Tony Hill. This is really important. How was Derek Tyler today?’

  ‘Funny you should ask, Doc. He seemed quite bright, almost cheerful. Silent as usual, but a bit more animated somehow.’

  ‘When did you last check on him?’

  ‘Lights out, I suppose. There’s no reason why he would have been checked again.’

  Fuck. ‘Vincent, can you do me a favour? Can you go and check on him yourself? Right now?’

  The nurse sounded bemused. ‘Sure, but…’

  ‘And Vincent? Call me back as soon as you’ve done that.’ He ended the call. ‘Why are you still here, Carol? We need to get Tyler before it’s too late. I need to talk to him.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be better if you went and interviewed him there?’

  He shook his head. ‘Suicide watch there means observations every fifteen minutes. But you can put somebody in with him round the clock. That’s what we need if we’re going to keep him alive. Carol, you
have to trust me on this.’

  She hesitated for a second, then said, ‘OK, you’ve got it.’ She took off down the corridor at a fast clip and Tony walked into the observation room. He stared through the one-way mirror at an apparently untroubled Jan Shields. Her arrogance was monumental. Even when she knew her nickname was being bandied around in the investigation, she hadn’t cut and run. She’d just carried on blithely, clearing up every potential problem before it caused her any difficulty. The scary thing was that she’d almost got him believing in her invincibility. She seemed to have an almost plausible answer for everything. She could, he feared, make a jury love her just enough to believe her. Or at least forgive her.

  The minutes ticked by and Tony grew more and more restless. The longer the wait, the more he feared the worst. Four, five minutes at most from the nurses’ station to Tyler’s room. A minute to check, then the walk back. Ten minutes, no more. That’s how long it should take Vincent to get back to him if all was well.

  Ten minutes stretched to fifteen, fifteen to twenty. When his phone finally rang, Tony almost dropped it in his haste to answer it left-handed. ‘Hello? Vincent?’

  ‘It’s me,’ Carol said. Those two words told Tony all he needed to know.

  ‘Shit,’ he said.

  ‘I got here five minutes ago,’ she said. The place is in an uproar. They just found Derek Tyler dead in his room. Apparently he swallowed his tongue.’

  ‘I don’t believe it,’ Tony groaned.

  ‘Believe it,’ Carol said grimly. This case is going belly-up and we’re no nearer to finding Paula. I could weep.’

  ‘You and me both.’

  ‘I’ll see you back at the station. Tony–don’t go back in to Jan until I get back, OK?’

  ‘Yeah. We need to figure out where we’re going with this.’ If indeed there was anywhere left to go.