The Needle House

by Robin Leslie Roughley

  She turned away from the window, when she saw Fossey standing in the doorway; she blinked as if she couldn't remember his name. 'My father's awake,' she sounded flat, as if the news was of no real importance.

  Fossey breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 'That's good news, Susan.'

  'He's asking where we are.' David said, 'I've told her she should go and see him.'

  'I can't, I need to be here, besides how can I stand there and tell him what's happened.'

  'He has to know, love.'

  'He's just had a heart attack, what do you think will happen when he finds out about Jenna?'

  'That's why you have to go and explain it to him,' David pleaded.

  'I…'

  'David's right, it's better coming from you rather than hearing it from another source.'

  David glanced across the room and gave a brusque nod. 'If anything happens I'll ring you straight away.'

  Susan shook her head, her face set with determination. 'I've told you I'm going nowhere…'

  'But…'

  'Just leave it will you,' she spat the words at her husband, her eyes charged with anger, 'I'll ring the hospital later and see if I can speak to him.'

  'You can't do it over the phone, Sue. I mean, it's your father for God's sake.'

  'Would it help if I went in your place?' Fossey asked, trying to diffuse the situation.

  'You?'

  'Look, I understand completely why you want to stay here, if I were in your place I'd probably feel the same way.'

  'What do you think, Sue? David asked.

  She looked at Fossey, a cautious look in her eyes, it was as if she were trying to fathom if he had some ulterior motive. 'I don't know.'

  'Once he knows the situation, I'm sure he'll understand why you couldn't come.' Fossey said.

  It was a full thirty seconds before she replied. 'You'll ring me as soon as you get there?'

  Fossey slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. 'Of course I will.'

  By the time he made it back through the woods, Lasser was shivering, dumping the waterproof into the boot, he climbed into the car and slapped the heater on full blast.

  His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since the burger that morning. Sodding job, four hours standing in the rain for nothing and now he had to go and grill the grief stricken Fotheringays again. He thought about ringing Fossey then decided against it, after all, Ronnie wasn't going anywhere. Pulling the car out from beneath the dripping trees he drove slowly along the narrow lane; the windscreen began to steam up, so he slid the window down letting in the cool, night air. The killer had to be around here somewhere, trouble was there were a thousand places he could be hiding, flicking on the main beam he fished out his last cigarette. If Jenna was still alive it meant that the killer would be burdened to some extent, alone he could probably disappear but with the girl in tow, well at least it would slow him down. He pulled hard on the cigarette, grimacing at the foul taste in his mouth, twenty cigarettes and no food, had left him light-headed. In a moment of madness, he flicked the cigarette through the window and then immediately regretted it.

  As he reached the junction, his mobile began to ring.

  'Hello.'

  'Hi, Sarge, it's me.'

  He screwed up the empty packet and threw it into the passenger footwell. 'All right, Cathy, where are you?'

  'Just on my way to Fotheringay farm…'

  'What for?'

  'Simms is sending a firearms detail to keep an eye on the place and I get to tag along.'

  Made sense, if the killer couldn't get the information he wanted from Jenna he might well decide to pay Susan a visit. 'Listen, Cathy, where are you now?'

  'Just coming through Hindley.'

  'Good, would you call at the Tesco and pick up twenty cigs for me?'

  'Sure.'

  'Oh and grab me something cheap off the 'whoopsie' shelf will you.'

  'What do you like?'

  'Just a pie or a sandwich, as long as it's not egg, I don't want to be farting while I'm interrogating the family.'

  'You're going to the house,' she sounded surprised. 'I thought you were stuck up in the woods?'

  'Change of plan, Simms wants know if they've been holding out on us.'

  'It seems unlikely; I mean; he's got their daughter…'

  'True enough but if it gets me out of the forest of doom then I don't really care.'

  'Right, I'm just pulling onto Tesco now.'

  'OK, I'll meet you at the entrance to the property, about half an hour.'

  'No problem,' she paused, 'do you want something to drink as well?'

  Lasser thought for a moment. 'Get us a Red Bull will you.'

  He pushed the last piece of the steak slice into his mouth, brushing the crumbs from his trousers as he chewed. Cathy watched him while he swallowed before reaching for the chocolate muffin that sat on the dashboard.

  'This is above and beyond, Cathy,' he said as he peeled back the wrapper.

  On the back seat was a four pack of Red Bull. His damp shirt had been screwed into a ball and tossed into the footwell, Lasser was now resplendent in a new sweatshirt, dark blue with a hood.

  'I'll pay you for the shirt and stuff when we get back to civilisation.'

  'No worries, I wasn't sure what size you wear, so I got large to be on the safe side.'

  'Are you calling me a fat bastard?' he grinned at her and then took a huge chunk out of the cake.

  'So, you don't think Wickham will go back to the boat?'

  'I doubt it; besides, we have the intrepid Spenner hiding in the bushes, so we can all relax.'

  She took out a pack of chewing gum. 'What I can't understand is why he took the girl in the first place?'

  They were parked at the end of the lane, the car hidden in dark shadows cast by the huge trees. 'Deep waters, Cathy, we know Wickham hated the Radfields and we have a good idea why, and it seems that while he was busy having fun with Ashley, he found out some things about the Fotheringays that he found interesting.'

  'Do you think he'll kill her?'

  Reaching over onto the back seat, he grabbed one of the cans. 'At first I would have said yes, without doubt, now I'm not so sure.'

  'What makes you think that?'

  'Think about it, if he thought that Sam Wickham was his father and he somehow knew that Malcolm Radfield had been responsible for his death, then you have the perfect motive. But what if he found out that Wickham wasn't his father after all.'

  'Ronnie?'

  Lasser nodded. 'That's why he's taken the girl, now if it turns out to be the truth then Christ alone knows how he'll react.'

  'What a mess.'

  'Precisely,' he snapped the ring pull back and took a long gulp from the can. 'One piece of good news, the old man is awake.'

  'Is he able to talk?'

  'I don't know yet, I just got a message from Fossey, he didn't go into detail.'

  Two more swallows and the drink was gone.

  'Right then, let's go and see what they have to say for themselves.'

  97

  As soon as Fossey had finished explaining what had happened, Ronnie tried to climb out of bed, his eyes frantic, he got as far as sitting upright before collapsing back, the heart monitor began to chatter as he gasped for breath.

  'Take it easy, Ronnie, try and relax.' Fossey covered the frail hand with his own.

  A young doctor moved swiftly into the room, frowning at Fossey as he adjusted the drip. 'This isn't a good idea,' his voice was heavy with disapproval. 'You need to rest, I'm…'

  'I want out of here, now!' Ronnie's voice was surprisingly loud, belying his frail body.

  The doctor shook his head. 'Not possible.'

  Ronnie swivelled his eyes, looking at Fossey with tears sliding down his gaunt face. 'Patrick.'

  'The police think they know who he is, Ronnie, and they're out there looking for him.

  'It's him isn't it?'

  The young doctor
moved over to the machine, bending to read the monitor.

  Fossey leaned over the bed. 'Who are you talking about, Ronnie?'

  'I should have known he'd turn up one day,' Ronnie swallowed. 'Now he's got my Jenna and I don't know what to do,' he drew a quivering liver-spotted hand across his eyes.

  'Ronnie, if you know anything…'

  'I don't even know his bloody name,' he replied, eyes screwed up tight, a vein in his temple throbbed like an aching tooth.

  The doctor appeared at the foot of the bed. 'Just try and keep calm, I can't stress enough how important these next few hours are.'

  'Bugger off.'

  The doctor sighed. 'I can always ask your visitor to leave, if I believe his being here is having a detrimental effect on your health.'

  'Don't try and threaten me, you…'

  'He's right, Ronnie, you're no use to anyone if you have another attack.' Fossey interjected.

  The old man glared at them both.

  'I'll be back to check on you in twenty minutes and then I must insist you try to get some rest,' he left the room without a backward glance.

  'Who is he, Ronnie?' Fossey asked.

  For a few fleeting seconds, he could see the battle being fought behind the old man's eyes, then he blinked and stared straight at Fossey. 'He's my son.'

  Inwardly Fossey sighed; Lasser had been right.

  'You need to speak to Sergeant Lasser, anything you can tell him…'

  'I can't really tell him anything,' Ronnie's voice was filled with anguish, an old man suddenly realising that he was helpless as a newborn baby.

  'Try to think, Ronnie, anything, anything at all.'

  'I've never laid eyes on him. My own son and I could pass him in the street and I wouldn't have a clue.'

  'So, Emma left before the child was born?'

  Ronnie pulled the sheet up to his chin. 'Emma Wickham was a beauty, she was a couple of years older than me,' he cleared his throat, his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. 'I tell you, lad, I'd never seen anything like her.'

  'So, how did you two end up together?'

  'Christ knows.'

  Fossey could feel the dismay starting to build. 'Ronnie, let me ring Lasser.'

  'It won't make any difference, he's got her and he's never going to let her go, is he?' his face seemed to age on the pillow. His skin appeared to draw back from the bone, a man close to death who felt he should have had all the answers and discovered he had none.

  Fossey reached for his phone.

  David was a mass of seething rage, chest heaving; nostrils flared, like some bull getting ready to charge and flatten anything that stood in his way.

  Susan stood at his side, her eyes red rimmed; she rested a hand on her husband's arm.

  'Calm down, David,' she looked downtrodden as if internally she was working through the grieving process, coming to terms with the possibility that she might never see her daughter alive again.

  'I want to know what they're doing about finding our daughter!' he stabbed a sausage-like finger towards Lasser.

  'Everything we can,' he answered.

  Cathy stood behind him, her hand hovering near the handle of the quick-release stick.

  'You expect me to believe that do you?' he spat. 'I mean, why aren't you out there? When that copper got killed you couldn't get down the lane for cop cars, the place was crawling with the likes of you…'

  'Dave!' Susan glared at her husband.

  He snapped his head around. 'Oh come on, Sue, you know it's true…'

  'We have men up at the woods, our colleagues on Merseyside have just gained access to a property owned by the suspect…'

  Susan clasped her hands to her chest. 'Did they find anything?'

  'Unfortunately not, but please be assured we're out there in force,' he glanced pointedly at David. 'We take every case seriously.'

  'Patrick said he has a boat on the canal?' Susan looked at him hopefully.

  'We have the area under surveillance in case he decides to return,' he felt the phone vibrate in his pocket, a couple of seconds later it began to chime; Susan looked up at him, her eyes panicked.

  'Excuse me a minute,' he headed out of the front door and strode out into the garden. 'All right, Patrick, how is he?'

  'Well, he's awake and he's talking,' he paused, 'he admits to having a son with Emma Wickham.'

  'Decided it's time to spill the beans, has he?'

  'He says he's never met the man.'

  Lasser headed over to his car and beeped it open. 'Do you believe him?'

  'He has no reason to lie, not now.'

  Sliding into the driver's seat, he grabbed a cigarette, after the pie and cake he was gasping for a smoke. 'So, does Ronnie think his long-lost son is responsible for all this?'

  'Come on, Lasser, he's beating himself up about it, I mean, he's devastated.'

  'It's just a pity he didn't decide to come clean before it got to this stage.'

  'And how was he meant to have known…'

  More excuses, more tiptoeing around the bloody obvious. 'Is he up to having a visitor?'

  A long pause, he pushed the cigarette lighter in and waited, counting down the seconds.

  'The doctor thinks he should be resting.'

  'And what does Ronnie think?' The lighter popped out.

  'Obviously, he wants to help but to be honest I don't think he can offer anything…'

  'I'll be the judge of that, he had a relationship with Emma Wickham, he knew the woman…'

  'But he knows nothing about the son.' Lasser could hear the underlying annoyance in Fossey's voice.

  'I'll be up there shortly,' he ended the call and pushed the phone back into his pocket. When he saw the shape moving out of the dark towards him, he climbed from the car.

  'Who was on the phone?' Susan's voice was tentative as if she dreaded his response.

  'It was Fossey, he says your father has admitted to having a child with Emma Wickham.'

  She stopped, her face hidden in shadow. 'Has he?'

  'Come on, Susan, it can't be that much of a shock.'

  'Is he the one who took Jenna?' Her voice was flat, emotionless, as if she were beyond feeling any more pain.

  'We can't say for sure…'

  'But you think it is?'

  Lasser thought for a moment before answering, tiptoe or hobnail-boot time. 'Yes, I do.'

  He heard her feet moving on the gravel, a sigh unravelled in the darkness. 'I suppose you think I should have said something sooner.'

  'I thought you didn't know about the child, you said…'

  'I know what I said!' she snapped. 'But you didn't believe me, did you, you thought I was trying to hide something?'

  A fifteen-year-old girl listening at the door, turning her back just as it became juicy, too right, he hadn't believed her.

  'Listen, Susan, I'm going to go to the hospital to see if your father can remember anything that might be useful,' he flicked the ash from his cigarette. 'Is there anything you want me to tell him?'

  She stepped forward out of the gloom, her face blank in the moonlight, her eyes baleful. 'Yes, Sergeant, tell him I'll never forgive him, tell him I blame him for what's happened,' she must have seen the shock on Lasser's face, she smiled, a bitter parody of humour. 'Tell him I won't be visiting, not now, not ever.'

  Lasser stuck the cigarette in his mouth and took a long drag. 'I'll tell him you said, ''hi''.'

  98

  As soon as the back doors opened, she could smell the familiar scent of moorland heather. It brushed through her senses, a vivid reminder of everything that was important to her, the fragility of life.

  'Are you coming?'

  She wriggled to the tailgate and slid out, her legs felt unsteady, pins and needles thrummed along her calves. She recognised the place immediately, they were parked in front of the old crofter's cottage. Whenever she looked out across the moors, it had always been a small dot on the horizon, on a clear day she could even see it from her bedroom window.
/>   Just keep calm, she told herself, her home was less than three miles away; she had dreaded getting out of the van and finding an alien landscape. To her right she could see the familiar shape of the mast on Winter Hill; she could make out the dark bulk of the Chinese Gardens, all familiar places that somehow strengthened her resolve. She was still alive, this one simple fact made her feel light-headed; she could sense the blood thundering through her veins, the muscles in her legs quivered like a race horse ready for the 'off '.

  'I know what you're thinking but believe me you wouldn't make it,' his voice was light and full of self-assurance. She was a seventeen-year-old kid and he was ex-army, trained to live and function in places like this, she felt the fleeting confidence begin to ebb away.

  'What are we doing here?'

  'I own the cottage; it belongs to me.'

  She looked at him uncertainly; her world had suddenly turned into a place where she could no longer trust her instincts. All the things she had known to be true had turned out to be a nonsensical pack of lies.

  'Did you think I lived my life under canvas?'

  'I don't know what I thought.'

  The building was squat, hunched down into the ground, built low to keep out of the wind and rain, a structure that had fought a two-hundred-year war against the elements, ding, ding, round two.

  'Come on, I'll show you around,' he set off across the uneven grass without a backward glance.

  Jenna scanned the immediate area around her feet, hoping to find a chunk of rock that she could hurl at him before making a break for it.

  He stopped, a silhouette against the patchwork sky, shades of greys and blacks. 'If you run, family or not, I'll kill you and feed you to the dog,' the words drifted towards her, promises, carried along by the ever-present breeze that raked the high moors.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, her stomach rolled and lurched and then reluctantly she moved forward.

  At one time there must have been a low wall surrounding the house, though over the decades it had fallen into disrepair, the grass was littered with chunks of stone, all too heavy for her to lift.