by Adam Croft
‘Don’t answer that,’ Tom replied. ‘Who is it? Police?’
‘No, it’s my husband.’
‘Don’t answer.’
Caroline pressed the rocker switch on the side of her phone, switching it to vibrate-only mode.
‘What about Russell Speakman, Tom?’ she asked, trying to change the conversation slightly towards something she was sure she already knew the answer to, and which might help placate Amie somewhat.
Tom’s eyes narrowed. ‘What about him?’
‘Did you kill him too?’
‘No,’ he replied, looking almost offended. ‘No, of course I didn’t. I knew that’d never last. Not with how many women he had on the go. I knew sooner or later she’d come to me. It was just a matter of waiting. It was sheer luck what happened to him. When I found out about the others, I told that gobby cow Layla I’d seen Russell and Amie kissing in town. I knew she was best friends with Ruby Clifford, and that she’d take the credit and say she saw it with her own eyes. I just wanted to make life hell for him. I didn’t want him to die. I didn’t kill him.’
‘I know, Tom. Someone’s already come forward and admitted to what happened. It was an accident.’
‘Gavin?’ Tom asked.
‘No, not Gavin.’
‘I never liked him,’ he replied, lost in his thoughts once again. ‘Horrible prick. Always doing the white knight act, there to save the day. He did bugger all. He just wanted his leggy blonde. He’s corrupted her. He doesn’t know the real Amie. He doesn’t know her at all.’
‘I know. But he’s her husband, Tom.’
‘He’s nothing. He’s worse than nothing. You know what? I didn’t need to make it look like Gavin had killed Martin, because the stupid prick had set it up for himself.’
Caroline glanced at Amie, hoping she wasn’t about to see an explosion. On the contrary, she appeared to have been stunned into submission.
Tom continued, oblivious. ‘I knew what Martin was up to. I wanted to take him down. For the way he treated everyone. Women. The way he treated Amie. I’d thought of a few things, but nothing quite seemed to gel. I don’t know if I ever would’ve gone through with any of it. Probably not. But then when I saw Gavin’s email land in Martin’s inbox, it all made sense.’
‘You’ve been monitoring and accessing Martin’s private emails?’ Caroline asked.
‘Obviously,’ Tom replied, with a look that seemed surprised there’d be any other possibility. ‘It made so much sense. I knew which route Martin took on his runs. I knew where he’d be going. I knew Gavin would be waiting at the viaduct. There’d be traces of him being there. The emails that showed he set it all up. It seemed too good to be true. I had the ultimate opportunity. The chance to get rid of them both.’
By now, Caroline could see Amie starting to get more and more agitated. She knew Tom’s words were causing more harm than good right now, but the strength and detail of his confession was too powerful to deny him.
‘I parked up in a lay-by on the Barrowden road, as you come straight out of Seaton. It’s a narrow lane. No traffic. I saw Martin coming down the hill. Stupid little head torch bobbing about. As he got closer, I switched on my headlights, then got out of the car. He couldn’t see because of the headlights, but I had a baseball bat in my hand. As he got closer, I swung it. He didn’t have a chance. He hit the ground and started gurgling. Christ, it made a hell of a noise. A large part of me wanted to leave him there, at the side of the road. I was desperate to just get out of there. But I knew I couldn’t. I knew this was only one small part of the plan, and I needed to stick to it. The last thing I wanted was him yelling or getting back up, so I wrapped my arm around his neck and squeezed. Just squeezed. I thought he’d try to fight back, but there was nothing. He didn’t even lift his arms. He was gurgling but his whole body was limp. Then… then he just stopped.
‘I’d lined the back of the car with plastic sheeting. It’s an estate. Handy for camping. Took me ages to drag him round and put him in the back, but I managed it in the end. Didn’t want anyone seeing him. I could tell he was going. His eyes were rolling around in his head and he was starting to turn blue. I just remember his fitness watch pinging, asking him if he’d stopped exercising because he was still and his heart rate had dropped. I actually found that funny. I don’t know if that makes me a bad person. But I took it off him and switched it off. I don’t know how much data those things store. I panicked it might reveal where he was when he died. I shut the boot, got back in and kept the engine on, just in case. If someone came along, I knew I’d need to get away quickly in case he made any noise. I knew he wouldn’t, though. You know when someone isn’t coming back. I waited a bit. I wanted to make sure Gavin would be gone.
‘And that’s when I worried I’d done the wrong thing. I knew I had to keep calm, though. I needed to. So I started driving. I pulled away really carefully, I remember that. The way you do when you’ve just packed the car full. Like you’ve got a delicate load. I turned left just before Seaton and headed back round towards the viaduct, where I knew Gavin had arranged to meet him. I could see his car there, so I carried on past and went round again, more slowly this time. As I came round towards Seaton the second time, I saw his car going over the crossroads, up towards Glaston and the A47. That’s when I knew he was heading home. So I carried on round to the viaduct, and left Martin there. He looked peaceful. I know it sounds strange, but he did.
‘Then I went home. I packed all the plastic sheeting into small cardboard boxes and lit a bonfire at the end of the garden. Plenty of wood, too. And the baseball bat. I knew the plastic would stink otherwise.’
Caroline nodded to herself. Of course. The odd smell of stale smoke she’d noticed when she met Tom hadn’t been cannabis. It was the remnants of the previous night’s bonfire, tinged with burnt plastic. The dirty bastard hadn’t even washed or changed his clothes.
‘Then you deleted the email,’ she said, continuing the story for him.
Tom nodded. ‘I knew the police would probably be after the computers and stuff. I’m not daft. I only ever accessed his stuff either while I was at work, or through the work VPN so it looked like it’d come from there. I saw the email Gavin sent, calling Martin a coward for not turning up. I knew that wouldn’t look good, so I deleted it. I was still panicking a bit at that stage. The adrenaline had worn off. I didn’t think about the fact it would still be showing in Gavin’s sent items until after I’d deleted it. It was stupid. Impulsive. How the hell could a dead man delete his own emails? Then I thought, no, it’ll be okay. They won’t know when the email was deleted. They might not even discover it ever existed. Either way, there was nothing I could do about it. I had to sit tight.
‘And then when you arrested Amie, I wondered what had gone wrong. I wanted to tell you I’d found the emails before that, but I knew that would be a bad idea. I’d be admitting to accessing his emails. It’d look obvious I was trying to prove Amie’s innocence and lead you towards Gavin. It was too risky. I knew I’d done the right thing. I knew Amie was innocent and you’d let her go eventually. It was just a case of waiting, waiting until your guys found the emails, looked into Gavin’s movements and put two and two together. I knew he couldn’t wriggle out of it. Not easily. There was too much. It’d go to court. Easily. Even if a jury cleared him, there’d always be doubt in the back of Amie’s mind. And I knew I’d have plenty of time in between to make her mine. But then you started to work it out. And I knew I had to act quickly. I had to do it. For Amie. I always do what’s best for her.’
Caroline and Dexter stayed silent for a few moments, taking in and digesting Tom’s extraordinary confession. It had been much as Caroline had come to suspect, but hearing it directly from his mouth, laced with his bizarre delusions and reasoning had been quite the ordeal.
‘Tom, I’m really sorry,’ she said, ‘but you can’t keep people against their will, no matter how right you believe it to be.’
Tom shrugged. ‘What does it matter?
’ he said. ‘I’m done for now. What’s the point?’ He lifted the camping knife up slightly and looked at it, considering it.
‘Tom,’ Dexter said, his voice quivering in the cold. ‘Tom, look at me, buddy.’
‘I’ll never have her, will I?’ Tom said to Caroline, ignoring him. ‘Not after this. Not now. I won’t last five minutes in prison. We all know that. This way is easier. Faster.’
‘No, Tom,’ Caroline said. ‘That’s not true. Please don’t do anything rash.’
‘Why not? This is the end. I’ll never have her now.’
‘That’s not true.’ Caroline looked at Amie, locking eyes with her, pleading for her to read between the lines.
She’d come to know Amie. She knew she was a stubborn cow who was only out for herself, but Caroline’s eyes desperately pleaded for her to see beyond the end of her own nose for once. She needed to at least give Tom the impression that she’d be waiting for him. That he needed to go with the police. That prison time would be worth it. She needed to give him false hope. Caroline didn’t know if Amie recognised the message she was trying to send with her eyes, but she knew she had to act quickly. If he took that knife to his neck, he’d stand no chance.
‘Tom, please,’ she said. ‘You haven’t lost it all. Not in the slightest. Amie can see how devoted you are to her. How you’ve dedicated your whole life to protecting her. Can’t you, Amie?’
She locked eyes with her again, desperately pleading with her to play along.
Eventually, Amie nodded.
Caroline tried not to make her huge sigh of relief audible. ‘Women know when a man will do anything for them, Tom. There’s still hope.’
Tears started to glisten in Tom’s eyes. ‘I need to hear that from her,’ he said.
Caroline swallowed. Could Amie be trusted to hold her tongue and play along, just to keep them all safe and ensure justice could be done? If she was honest with herself, she didn’t know, but she had no other option. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Shall I take the tape off her mouth?’
Tom considered this for a moment, then nodded. ‘I’m watching you, though. One wrong move.’
‘It’s okay, Tom. We’re all on the same side here.’
Caroline stepped forward, giving Amie a reassuring look. As she gently removed the tape, she silently mouthed the word please. She stepped back into her previous position, allowing Tom to see Amie’s face.
Her phone started to vibrate again. This time, she put her hand in her pocket and pressed the volume-down button, stopping the vibration before Tom noticed it.
‘Go on, Amie,’ she said. ‘Tell him.’ Caroline spoke confidently and calmly, but inside she was bricking it. She looked across at Dexter, trying to work out a contingency plan if this all went wrong, but there was none.
‘I… Tom,’ Amie said, her voice quivering. ‘I know you did this for me. I can see that.’
‘It was the right thing to do,’ Tom replied.
Amie nodded her head desperately. Caroline could see how hard this was for her — how sick she felt at having to go through with the charade — but that she also recognised the importance.
‘Tell me,’ Tom said, the tears starting to choke him. ‘Tell me you’ll wait for me.’
‘I’ll wait for you,’ Amie replied, her voice also cracking with emotion, although entirely different ones to his. ‘I will. Go with them, Tom. Please.’
‘I’ll get twenty years. At least.’
Tears were streaming down both their faces.
‘I know. I know. You’ve spent so long waiting for me, Tom. Longer than that. Much longer. It’s the least I can do. And you’ll be doing it for me.’
‘I do everything for you,’ he said.
‘I know.’
Tom looked at Caroline, then back towards Amie. ‘I… I need you to prove it,’ he said. ‘I need something to take with me.’
‘What do you need?’ Amie asked, shivering, tearful.
‘A kiss. I need a kiss.’
Amie instinctively looked towards Caroline, who’d closed her eyes and clenched her jaw, knowing what Amie’s reaction to that request would be.
Caroline looked back at her, hopeful. They were so close. So close to ending this whole ordeal.
Eventually, Amie nodded and Tom stepped forward.
He stooped low, the cold having long seeped into his joints, and planted a long and desperate kiss on her lips.
‘You held back,’ he said, standing back up and looking at the knife.
‘I didn’t. I’m cold. I’m frozen solid,’ Amie replied desperately, now considering the knife might be intended for her. ‘I promise you, Tom. Sweetheart. Kiss me again.’
Tom looked at her for a moment, then kissed her again. He stood back up and walked towards the campfire, each pace slower than the last. Then he looked up at Caroline and Dexter, tossed the knife into the fire and held his arms behind his back.
52
All Caroline wanted was to go home, but the wheels of police procedure meant that wouldn’t be possible for a few hours yet. There was the never-ending pile of paperwork that had to be completed first, starting with detailed notes in her policy book on what had happened at Fineshade Wood.
It was always important to get the details down while they were still fresh in the mind, not least because a defence team could quite reasonably try to poke holes in the police’s account had it been written down days later, once the details had become fuzzy and the officers’ recollections turned hazier.
It was sod’s law that these sorts of investigations never came to a head mid-morning or just after lunch. It certainly would’ve made them easier to write up, without having to work into the early hours just to protect her own backside.
‘How’s he doing?’ she said to Dexter, who’d just come back upstairs from the custody suite.
Dexter shrugged. ‘Hard to tell. He’s not really saying much. I think he got it all out of his system at the woods.’
‘Yeah, tell me about it,’ she replied, looking down at the paper in front of her.
‘I think he’ll be co-operative. Especially if he thinks Amie’s going to be waiting for him at the other end.’
‘How long before he realises that’s not going to happen, though? We’ll need to get that confession down in an official statement pretty sharpish.’
‘Already on it,’ Dexter replied, smiling. ‘It’s being done as we speak.’
‘Brilliant, thanks Dex.’
‘You look knackered.’
‘Again, thanks Dex. Must be the thought of having to see the Chief Super first thing.’
Dexter smiled. ‘Enough to put anyone off their breakfast. Head home and get some kip. Everything looks brighter in the morning. I’ll get the paperwork sorted.’
‘You sure? You’ll be here hours.’
‘Nah, won’t take that long. Maybe at your age, but I’ll fly through it. I’m having tomorrow off, though, yeah?’
‘What, despite all your youthful energy and vigour?’ Caroline replied, smirking. ‘Let’s compromise. You can come in at midday.’
Dexter shrugged. ‘Suits me. Miss the rush hour at least.’
Caroline stood and stretched, feeling the vertebrae in her spine clicking. ‘Right. Well, in that case I’m off to pop my teeth into a glass of water and make myself a mug of Ovaltine.’
‘Mind you don’t spill any on your stairlift.’
‘Yeah, alright Dex,’ Caroline called from the doorway. ‘Mind you don’t trip down the stairs on your way out.’
53
When Caroline finally arrived home, she was surprised to find the living room light on. Mark was usually in bed long before now, and she hoped this didn’t signify another argument was on the cards.
She switched off the engine on her Volvo, opened the door and stepped out onto the driveway. It was a clear night; bitterly cold, but beautiful in its own way, with the stars clearly visible in the night sky. She walked up to the front door and tentatively put her key in the lock,
opening the door as quietly as she could. Even though Mark was still up, the boys would be asleep, and her house had a terrible habit of transferring sounds through the walls.
As she stepped into the living room, she saw Mark. He wasn’t fully dressed; instead, he was huddled in his dressing gown, his hair askew. It was clear he hadn’t waited up, but had been asleep and got up again. There was an old western on TV — a film she didn’t recognise, with horses galloping through the dusty desert.
‘Mark? Are you okay?’
He turned towards her, and she noticed his eyes were red raw. In the look he gave her, she could see he wasn’t upset or angry at her, but at something else entirely. The pleading in his eyes told her he needed her.
‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ she asked, sitting down beside him on the sofa. ‘What’s happened?’
Mark sniffed, and it was clear to her he’d been crying for some time. ‘It’s Mum,’ he said, his voice cracking. ‘She’s gone.’
Caroline’s heart sank, and in those two words she realised her family had changed forever. Mark had already lost his father and brother to cancer in a short space of time.
‘What happened?’
‘Joan, her neighbour, called. Apparently Mum was getting into bed tonight and she started to get chest pains. She managed to get to the phone to call the ambulance, but when they got there she’d already gone. They think it was a heart attack.’
Caroline took Mark in her arms. ‘Oh no. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry.’
As she held him, she realised just how much she meant those words. She was sorry. She was dreadfully sorry; guilt-ridden at having moved the family from London to Rutland, knowing his mum had only recently lost her husband and a son. Although it had been a joint decision, and one Mark’s mum had wholeheartedly endorsed, she felt awful.
‘Why didn’t she call me, Caz?’ he asked, his eyes pleading again. ‘I didn’t even get to speak to her.’
