Текст книги "Jessica Daniel: Think of the Children / Playing with Fire / Thicker Than Water"

Автор книги: Kerry Wilkinson

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Текущая страница: 32 (всего у книги 56 страниц)

‘You know how to pick ’em, don’t you?’ Izzy said.

Jessica laughed. ‘I’m thinking of retiring early to a sleepy little village in the back end of nowhere. My mum and dad took me for tea to this little place called Martindale in the Lake District the other week. Not much seemed to be going on there.’

Rowlands snorted. ‘You’d be bored within a week.’

‘I know . . .’

‘What I don’t get is what someone gains,’ Izzy said. ‘I only know what you’ve told me and what I’ve seen on TV and so on. With most things we get involved with, there’s always a clear motive, even if we haven’t quite figured it all out. Usually it’s revenge or something like that. But who gains from this? Houses burning down, all the suspicion being pointed from Martin to Anthony and back again. No one’s winning here.’

Jessica didn’t know how to reply because her friend was right. If it was Martin or Ryan who was involved – or even Anthony – they were each ultimately going to lose. Sienna and Molly’s parents had already lost.

‘We should probably go,’ Jessica said, standing up. Izzy started to get up but Jessica motioned for her to remain sitting. ‘You stay there. We’ll let ourselves out and come back soon.’

Jessica kissed the constable on the forehead and Rowlands gave her a peck on the cheek. ‘See ya, Iz,’ he said.

As they walked out of the house, Jessica felt her phone begin to vibrate in her pocket. She didn’t need to answer it to know it was going to be bad news.

21

When she first met him, Jessica thought Martin’s wrinkles and thinning hair made him look older than his fifty years. For some reason, the large dark bruises around his eye and bandaged wound on his forehead seemed to de-age him. As he sat up in his hospital bed and tried to smile, Jessica could see the muscles twitching in his face as he forced himself not to wince.

‘We can leave you and come back if you’d prefer?’ Jessica offered.

Martin shook his head slightly. ‘I’d rather do it now so I can get some sleep.’

Jessica sat next to the bed, Rowlands perching next to her with a pad and pen. ‘Can you start by telling us what you remember?’ she asked.

He closed his eyes and sighed. ‘I’d been out for the day and was on my way back to the hotel.’

‘Where had you been?’ At first Martin said nothing but then he looked away from Jessica, unable to meet her eyes. ‘Have you started drinking again?’ she persisted.

His voice was quieter than before. ‘I’ve tried not to . . .’

Jessica thought about their conversation in the van and how Martin had said stopping drinking had helped him sort his life out.

‘Why did you start again?’ she asked, knowing it wasn’t really any of her business.

‘It’s not as easy as you think. When you’re inside, everything’s decided for you. Out here, you have to start making decisions. Then, with the fire at the house and everything . . .’

Jessica realised there was little point in dwelling on something that was going to upset him – at least not until she had the information she needed. ‘Okay, so you were out for a drink. Were you on your own?’

‘Yes.’

‘And you were making your way back to the hotel . . . what happened then?’

‘The hotel they’ve got us in is in the centre but I was out at this place Longsight way. I was going to get the bus but thought I’d walk it off. I was most of the way back. There’s this alley opposite the hotel next to a coffee place. I was cutting through and felt something hit me from behind.’

Jessica already knew he had been found barely metres from the hotel in a pool of his own blood. Even though he was resting on it, she could see a bandage at the rear of his skull. ‘What else do you remember?’

Martin shook his head. ‘Not too much. I fell forward and hit my eye on the kerb.’ He reached up to touch the blackened area. ‘I think someone kicked me but . . . that’s it.’

‘Did you see anyone or hear anything? Maybe you passed someone on your way into the alleyway?’

‘No.’

‘How about your route home? Have you been cutting through the same spot more than once recently?’

‘I guess. Why?’ Martin was beginning to speak more slowly, his words slurring into each other.

‘If someone had been watching you over a period of days, they might have known that was the way you were going to return to the hotel.’

‘You think someone could have been following me?’

‘I don’t know. Have you seen anything suspicious in recent days?’

Martin seemed embarrassed by his response. ‘I’m not always aware of it all . . .’

Jessica thought the sobering nature of his words jarred strongly with the way they overlapped each other, almost as if he were thinking more quickly than his body would allow him to talk.

‘Do you know of anyone who might want to harm you?’

Martin met Jessica’s eyes, as if putting the name ‘Anthony Thompson’ telepathically in her mind. He never said the words but the implication was there.

‘I didn’t see anyone,’ he said, as if following up his unspoken suggestion with the acknowledgement that he felt as if he deserved what had happened to him.

‘You can say if you know who did it,’ Jessica assured him.

He shook his head. ‘I didn’t see anyone.’

Jessica could see the same guilt in his eyes as when they had shared the back of the van together. She didn’t know what else they could get from him. An additional, more formal statement might be taken at some point but, if he continued to insist he hadn’t seen anyone, there was very little they could do other than check the CCTV cameras in the vicinity. She didn’t expect them to reveal the attacker.

‘Has someone contacted Ryan?’ Jessica asked.

Martin nodded, wincing painfully and no longer trying to hide it. ‘I think he’s on his way.’

‘Right . . .’

‘I’ll deal with him,’ Martin added.

Jessica felt as if he had been a step ahead of her at every stage of their conversation. She was going to say she would hang around to speak to Ryan, in order to make it clear there should be no form of retaliation.

‘He’s going to have to let us deal with things,’ she said.

‘I know. I’ll talk to him. He’ll listen to me.’

Jessica stared into the man’s eyes and saw that he meant it. With a small nod, she stood, Rowlands following her lead. ‘Can you give us a minute, Dave?’ Jessica asked, not looking at the constable.

Rowlands ummed for a few moments and then touched her gently in the small of her back to let her know he would be outside and available if she needed anything.

As he left, Jessica continued to hold Martin’s eyes. ‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Go on.’

‘As I’m sure you can understand, with everything that has been going on, we have been looking into a few things from your past.’

Martin said nothing, his face not changing.

‘That pub you burned down with Alfie inside wasn’t the first building you set fire to, was it?’

He continued to stay silent, holding Jessica’s eye and licking his lips.

‘How many places?’ Jessica asked.

Martin winced, his eye flickering shut, before opening again. ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

Jessica broke eye contact, sitting back in her chair and staring at the ceiling. ‘I wanted to believe you when we were in the back of that van. I wanted to think people could change and do good things after bad ones.’

‘What really excites you?’ Martin asked. The question took Jessica by surprise and the room suddenly felt heavy with menace. Before she could think of a reply, Martin continued, ‘Maybe it’s chocolate, maybe it’s rollercoasters? Perhaps you like driving really fast? I have no idea. We’re all different but for me . . . I find enjoyment from other things.’

His voice had cleared again and Jessica wondered if the slurred speech from before was either put on, or a figment of her imagination.

She didn’t reply straight away, wondering if he had anything else to add. ‘Are you saying you like setting fire to things?’ she asked after the pause.

Martin said nothing, shuffling in his bed and attempting to roll over. ‘I think I’d like to get some sleep now.’

Rowlands knew her well enough not to ask why Jessica had wanted to talk to Martin by herself. Instead, as they exited the hospital, he turned his phone back on and made a call. Jessica got the gist of the conversation from his half.

‘Jason not having much luck?’ she asked as they arrived at the car.

‘No. He says Anthony was too drunk to talk when they first went round. They’ve been letting him sober up and they’re going to have another go soon. Are we going back to the station?’ Rowlands asked, starting the engine.

‘Not yet. I need you to take me somewhere but we have only been to the hospital if anyone asks.’ At first Jessica thought he was going to query why but he simply asked for the address.

Despite the way she ribbed him, Jessica knew it was moments like this that showed her how good a colleague and friend Rowlands was. He had left her alone without knowing why and then agreed to drive her somewhere simply because she had asked.

She didn’t know the area they were heading to but told the constable to keep driving past the house after she had spotted it and then pull up at the end of the road.

‘Are you okay to wait here?’ she asked.

‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’

‘I’ll be five minutes.’

Jessica got out of the vehicle and walked towards the house. She double-checked the number on a piece of paper and folded it back into her pocket.

The car with the number plate Andrew had noted down was parked on the road directly outside the house. Jessica walked along the pathway and knocked on the door.

A scowling young woman soon answered, her long blonde hair tied into a loose ponytail. Her baggy jogging bottoms and matching top would have made it look as if she had just got up, except for the thick layer of make-up. She eyed Jessica up and down, casually holding a cigarette in her free hand. ‘Who are you?’ she asked harshly.

‘Morning, Lara, how are you?’

The woman’s eyebrows arched further in annoyance. ‘How do you know my name?’

Jessica hadn’t known it for sure but, from Andrew’s description and the fact the address matched, it seemed a fair bet.

‘A lucky guess. I’m clever like that. I’m Detective Sergeant Daniel. Can I have a few minutes?’

Lara screwed her face up further, causing a heavy line to appear on her forehead. ‘You’re police? What do you want?’

‘Just a quick word . . . as I, er, said . . .’ Jessica couldn’t resist the sarcasm, thinking that was probably why it was ‘always you’ as Rowlands pointed out.

‘I ain’t done nothing.’

‘I never said you had. I just wanted to ask you about Ryan Chadwick.’

Lara looked surprised at the mention of the name. ‘Ryan? What about him?’

‘I was thinking maybe we could have a girly chat. Compare notes. You know, what do you think about Ryan? What’s he up to? Why is he having illicit meetings in the dark on bridges in the middle of nowhere? That kind of thing.’

Jessica got the reaction she wanted. Lara’s eyes widened in amazement. She took a long drag from her cigarette before throwing what was left at her feet and putting one hand on the door. ‘What are you on about?’

‘I was wondering how you know Ryan.’

‘We’re mates.’

‘How about Sienna Todd and Molly North? Do you know them?’

Lara’s eyes rolled upwards in thought before she replied. Jessica wasn’t sure if it was because she was trying to decide what the best response might be, or because she was genuinely trying to recall if she did know the other girls.

‘I don’t know. I sort of know the names. Maybe they’re friends of Ryan?’

It sounded plausible. ‘Are they friends of yours?’

‘No. Why are you asking?’ Lara’s demeanour had changed completely from being aggressive to hugging her arms across her chest. The absence of the cigarette had left her biting her bottom lip. Jessica started to speak but the sound of a baby crying began somewhere behind Lara, interrupting them. The young woman half-turned, looking back to Jessica. ‘I’ve got to go. What do you actually want?’

Jessica locked eyes with the woman but tried to sound sympathetic. ‘I want to know that you’re not involved in anything you can’t get yourself out of.’

For a moment, Jessica thought the woman was going to break but another wail from the unseen child seemed to change the woman’s mind. ‘No, I’m fine,’ she said, starting to push the door closed. ‘I’ve got to go.’

Jessica turned and walked back towards the car, wondering if she should have asked Rowlands or someone else to handle talking to Lara. She hadn’t wanted to ask specifically about the money but she did want to let the woman know that she knew something was going on. The one thing that both Lara and Molly had in common was the awkwardness when Ryan’s name was mentioned. She couldn’t place what it was but it matched the uncomfortable feeling she had when she was around him.

As she sat in the car next to Rowlands, it was clear something had happened. ‘I didn’t know if I should come find you,’ he said.

‘What’s up?’

‘Jason says Anthony Thompson has confessed to attacking Martin.’

22

Jessica and Rowlands arrived at the police station just as Anthony Thompson was being led through the side entrance towards the cells. Jessica caught Reynolds as he was walking across the car park.

‘What did he say?’ she asked.

The inspector seemed a little frustrated and she didn’t know if it was due to her – or because he had spent the morning with Anthony. ‘We asked where he was last night, the usual thing. At first he said he couldn’t remember. I took a gamble and told him Martin had been attacked and he just laughed and said he enjoyed doing it.’

‘Shite. Do you believe him?’

Reynolds held open the station’s door, letting her and Rowlands enter. ‘I don’t know, that’s why we brought him in. If he repeats it on tape, we’ll have it formally. There’s something wrong with him. At first we thought he was drunk but then he seemed fine. Sometimes he slurs his words, sometimes he’s completely clear. You never know what you’re getting.’

It all sounded very familiar. Jessica told Rowlands she would see him soon, before following Reynolds along the corridor towards the interview room.

‘What are we going to do?’ she asked.

He stopped, shuffling into a doorway away from the main area. ‘I’m not sure you should be involved in this.’

Jessica felt stung. He had never said anything like it to her in the past. ‘Why?’

‘You’re too close, Jess. I’m not sure you even see it. Jack and I were thinking . . .’

‘You’re talking about me behind my back?’ The aggression in Jessica’s voice surprised even her.

‘No, we’re not. We know how good you are with people and at your job. But there’s something about Martin, Anthony, Ryan and these girls that seems to have affected you. You’re connecting dots that aren’t there to be joined.’ He lowered his voice, leaning in closer. ‘You suggested using a private investigator to do our dirty work. Dirty work we’re not even sure needed doing. Don’t you see how that all looks?’

‘What if I’m right about Ryan?’

‘What if you’re not, Jess? What do you think he’s been up to? Burning down houses? Attacking his own dad? Killing girls and make it seem like they’ve done it themselves? How far are you going to go?’

Jessica couldn’t meet the inspector’s eyes. She knew he was saying things for her own good but he didn’t know the half of it. He hadn’t seen the doodles she had been given by Aidan. He didn’t know she had gone behind his back and got Andrew to follow Ryan anyway. He hadn’t been there when she had followed and slapped the teenager. She tried to steady her voice. ‘Let me sit in with Anthony. You talk, I’ll listen.’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I know you, Jess. I know you won’t be able to stay quiet and it’s not as if I can turn around and tell you to stop once we’re in there.’

‘Trust me.’

Reynolds sighed, staring at the ceiling before shaking his head slightly and affectionately resting an arm on Jessica’s shoulder. ‘Fine – let’s go.’

As they readied the interview room, the two officers barely spoke. Jessica knew the inspector had been as delicate and discreet as he could. In previous years, she might have flown into a rage, storming up to the chief inspector’s office to find out what the problem was. She had largely moved past that but his words hurt more than they angered her.

An officer knocked on the door to say that Anthony was refusing his right to speak to a solicitor and seemed content to sit quietly in the cells. Reynolds told the officer he may as well bring the man upstairs in that case.

Jessica couldn’t remember feeling nervous ahead of an interview but, as she sat slightly behind Reynolds in a position that felt unfamiliar, she could feel a twinge in her stomach. ‘Are you all right?’ the inspector asked, sensing her unease.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You don’t have to stay silent. If you’ve got something to mention, just say it.’

Before Jessica could think of anything appreciative, there was a knock on the door and Anthony Thompson was led into the room. He looked almost the same as the other times Jessica had met him, his matted hair hanging untidily around his shoulders, but his face was even redder than on the earlier occasions. She saw him smirk slightly before realising he was being filmed.

Reynolds ran through the initial details from the previous night, asking Anthony where he was. Jessica immediately began to feel edgy when he wouldn’t be more specific than ‘town’.

After a frustrating series of exchanges, Reynolds eventually moved onto the questions Jessica would have started with. ‘What happened as you were returning home?’ he asked.

Anthony grinned, showing his discoloured yellow teeth. ‘You know what happened. You told me. I beat him into hospital.’

‘Who?’

‘You know. Him.’

Jessica could feel the inspector tensing. In her own mind, she was counting to ten.

‘Martin Chadwick?’ Reynolds persisted.

‘Yes.’

‘So you beat him up?’

‘Yes.’

‘What exactly did you do to him? Did you punch him? Kick him? Hit him with a weapon?’

‘All of them.’

‘What kind of weapon?’

Anthony scratched his head, as if thinking. He stuck out his bottom lip before smiling again. ‘I don’t remember. You tell me.’

Jessica knew they were wasting their time. Anthony hadn’t attacked anyone, he was simply enjoying hearing the details of how Martin had been attacked.

‘Did you hit him from the front or the back?’ she asked.

If Reynolds was annoyed, he didn’t flinch.

‘I don’t remember.’

Jessica was going to speak again but the inspector beat her to it. His voice was raised and frustrated. ‘Answer the question. You’ve got a fifty per cent chance of getting it right. Front or back?’

Anthony pushed his chair back, leaning into it. ‘Front. I caved that fucker’s head right in.’

Reynolds looked to Jessica and raised his eyebrows before turning back to Anthony. ‘You do know we could charge you with wasting police time?’

The man shrugged. ‘Do it.’

Jessica knew it wouldn’t happen, largely because they were already in a battle of sorts with the media. Considering the coverage Martin’s original release from prison had generated, the last thing they wanted was everything being blown up further by charging Anthony.

Reynolds shunted his chair backwards with a noisy scrape. He announced formally that the interview was over, adding dismissively: ‘Go home, Mr Thompson.’

Jessica watched the man turn from Reynolds to stare at her. It didn’t seem as if he was going to move. She reached across and stopped the tape recording.

‘Why don’t you talk to me, Anthony,’ she said gently. ‘Just tell me whatever you want to.’

She thought about everything the inspector had said to her and realised they had done nothing but accuse Anthony of doing various things – even right from the beginning. He might still be responsible but no one had asked him what was going through his mind.

Anthony eyed Jessica, his head at an angle. He had stopped grinning, his eyes studying her intently. ‘Let’s just talk,’ she added, holding her hands out to show she was hiding nothing.

The man nodded towards Reynolds. ‘What about him?’

‘He has to stay – but you can just talk to me if that’s what you want.’

Anthony nodded slowly and Reynolds slid the chair away from the desk so it was in front of the door. He sat and Jessica could feel him staring at her.

‘You didn’t attack anyone last night, did you?’ Jessica said softly. The man leant forward, resting his elbows on the table, shaking his head. Jessica was going to ask why he’d claimed he had but the answer was obvious – he wished he’d done so.

‘What about the other things we have spoken to you about? The brick? The fire?’ Anthony shook his head again but didn’t speak. ‘What would you like to tell me?’ Jessica asked.

Anthony ran his hands through his hair, getting one of his fingers caught on a knot, before aggressively yanking it free. ‘Do you have children?’

‘No.’

He looked up from the table and waited until Jessica met his gaze. ‘Do you know why Alf was sleeping in the pub the night he died?’

‘No.’

‘We’d had an argument. A stupid thing about him getting a job because he was twenty-one and still living at home. I was only joking – I knew he was trying but there was nothing around. He was a clever kid. He wanted to work with computers, not work in a shop. Me and his mum would have let him live with us for as long as he wanted. It was just one of those things where you joke about something so often, it begins to sound serious. I’d been going at him and he walked out one afternoon.’

Jessica could guess the rest of the story but didn’t want to interrupt the man’s flow. From his grinning, almost mocking performance earlier, she knew he was being as sincere as he was capable of.

Anthony scratched just above his eye so hard that Jessica thought he might draw blood. ‘When he didn’t come home at night, we thought he was with one of his friends,’ he continued. ‘It was only when you came knocking the next day when we realised something had happened. From there . . . well, what do you want me to say? My wife blamed me and left. Meanwhile he walks out of prison as if everything’s all right just because he’s spent a few years inside.’

‘I’m sorry, Anthony, but this has to stop. All of it. I’m not saying you’ve been involved in what has happened to Martin but we both know what you told the journalist. I know it isn’t down to you what they wrote but it could have been that which inspired someone else to target him.’

‘I know.’

‘Can I ask you a few questions now?’ Anthony rocked himself gently forwards and backwards, nodding his head. ‘We found a tin of spray paint and a petrol can at your house. Was the damage to Martin’s house anything to do with you?’

‘No.’

‘Why were those items at yours?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘They’re not yours?’

‘No.’

Jessica believed him – but that only left them with more questions they would have to think through.

‘Why didn’t you tell us that?’ she asked. Anthony shrugged but Jessica knew the answer was because he hadn’t forgiven himself for the way his son had died. She suspected he wanted to get himself in trouble. It was why he hadn’t protested about being left in the cells at Bootle Street station.

‘Why did you go missing when we came to find you?’ she asked.

Anthony smiled for the first time since they had begun to talk properly. ‘Booze.’

‘But why were you near to Martin’s hotel?’

The man shook his head. ‘I didn’t know I was until you told me.’

‘Anthony.’ Jessica waited until they were staring at each other.

‘Yes.’

‘I know you might look at me in this suit and you hear me introduce myself as “Detective Sergeant” and you might think I’m someone I’m not. The thing is, away from here, my name is Jessica. You asked if I have children. I don’t – but I’ve got a mum and a dad. I’ve got friends and I’ve got a fiancé who’s bloody fantastic.’

Jessica felt a lump forming in her throat but continued, even as she felt a dampness around her eyes. ‘I don’t know what I’d do if someone wanted to hurt them, let alone if they actually managed it. I don’t want to patronise you and say, “I know how you feel” and all that shite, because I don’t. Anyone who tells you that is a complete dick. But you have to see that this is your chance to let go. When we open the door, you can go home and you can do what you want with your life. If that means drinking yourself to death, that’s up to you. I believe what you’ve told me – but, even if you’re not involved with what’s happened to Martin, you still would have wished it upon him. You have to let it go.’

Jessica was thinking about Adam and how she would go on if anything happened to him. Just the idea of him being hurt was making her feel a type of grief she hadn’t experienced since her colleague and friend Detective Constable Carrie Jones had been killed. She dabbed her eyes with her sleeve but didn’t stop looking at Anthony.

‘You can’t just flick a switch,’ he said.

‘I know.’

Jessica saw the man’s Adam’s Apple begin to bob up and down. Her mind flashed back to the same thing happening to Martin in the rear of the van they had shared. Anthony burst into tears. At first, Jessica thought about comforting him, but the man raised his arms and covered his face with his sleeves. She looked sideways at Reynolds, still trying to dry her own eyes. He gave her a small nod.

‘Anthony?’

The man swiped the sleeves of his top across his face, trying to calm himself. He met Jessica’s eyes again. ‘Yes.’

‘Are you going to be okay?’

He didn’t speak, nodding instead. Jessica motioned to move her chair backwards but Anthony interrupted her. ‘I’ve never told anyone this before.’

Jessica had her hands resting on the desk but stopped. ‘What?’

‘That afternoon, I’d got home from work and Alfie was watching some rubbish on the TV. I’d wanted to put on the racing and we had this stupid argument. That’s when I told him he should get a job if he wanted to stay at our house. I said he could watch what he wanted when he started paying rent. He was so angry. He threw the remote at me and stormed out of the room. Just before he slammed the door, do you know what he shouted at me?’

Jessica thought it was a question he was asking himself but it was clear Anthony wanted her to respond. ‘No.’

Tears had begun to form around Anthony’s eyes again. He gulped before replying. ‘“Fuck off, Dad”. That was the last thing he ever said to me. I never got the chance to say I was sorry. Just “fuck off” and then he was gone.’

Jessica tried to think of something she could say but instead the sobs she had been trying to suppress were drowned out by Anthony’s eruption of tears.