[DC Laura McGanity 05 ]Cold Kill Page 18

  He pulled on the door and the light from the hallway fanned into the living room, just making more shadows. He held his breath, waiting for whoever was in the house to rush at him. But there was no one there.

  He exhaled loudly. He looked down at his hands. They were trembling. He thought about how he could protect himself, but he didn’t have any weapons in the house.

  He looked towards the stairs and moved slowly towards them, expecting to see Shane there, and then almost laughed to himself as he cursed his overactive imagination. He looked up but the landing was empty.

  He put a foot on a step and began to climb. Memories of Shane went through his mind, but he knew he had no reason to be fearful. Shane was a long time ago.

  But what about the young woman killed in Blackley?

  The stairs went straight upwards with a landing to his left, but the landing was bordered by solid wooden panels, so he couldn’t see whether anyone was hiding there, crouching behind, waiting to pounce. Rupert kept his back against the wall, only the occasional creak of a step or the brush of his clothes interrupting the silence.

  He reached the top of the stairs and looked around. He exhaled loudly. No one there.

  Then he heard the creak of a door, the sound of someone moving on carpet.

  ‘Who’s there?’ he said, his voice weak. ‘Shane? Is that you?’ He heard something behind him, the fast rumble of feet along the landing. He turned around quickly, a shout caught in his throat. He went to scream, but suddenly an arm went around his neck.

  He fell backwards, pulled down. There was stale breath on his cheek, coming at him in short bursts. He ended up on the floor. Then Rupert gagged as something was rammed into his mouth. A cloth, he could feel it in his throat, his cheeks pushed out. There was someone on top of him, hands around his neck. Rupert tried to push him off, but his opponent was heavy and strong. Rupert reached up and tried to scratch at his face, but there was a scarf there, tight around his attacker’s face. He tried to get more breaths through the cloth, but it was impossible, his attacker’s hands squeezing hard.

  As he looked up, the last thing Rupert saw were his attacker’s eyes, calm, cold, his head tilted slightly to one side.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Laura checked her watch as Joe drove along the Cleveleys seafront, her side window open, the salt on the breeze making her lick her lips. It was almost two o’clock.

  Laura turned her engagement ring on her finger absentmindedly as she thought about how different Cleveleys was to her home, Turners Fold, even though it was only an hour away. And that was how she thought of Turners Fold now, as home. It had taken a long time before she’d been able to think of it in those terms.

  Cleveleys seemed a world away from the dark green of the hills around her cottage. Here, the sky seemed brighter, as it soaked up some of the sunshine that glimmered on the sea, vivid blue to the horizon, not the stone-grey of the Pennines. Turners Fold was like all the other cotton towns in the country, characterised by lost industry and grand civic gestures, where old millstone buildings stood alongside imposing Town Halls and theatres, proud emblems of a prosperous past. The buildings in Cleveleys didn’t brag or boast. They were either small redbrick or whitewashed seaside houses, with stained glass awnings over shop windows held up by ornate pale-green iron pillars. The seafront stretched into the distance, the beach below a mix of pebbles and sand, the sea a distant shimmer.

  Laura had taken Bobby to the seaside since her move north, but it had been to Blackpool, and so it had been all noise and tack and lights, and then a dash for the car before the stag and hen night parties took over the streets. She imagined that it would be fun if she was a teenager, or with a gang of friends on a pub crawl, but the pavement stands selling cock-shaped rock told her that it was no place for children. She hadn’t taken Bobby back a second time.

  Cleveleys seemed different though. This was tea-room seaside, all buttered bread and afternoon dances. Even though she could see Blackpool Tower in the distance, it seemed like a whole different experience.

  ‘Something on your mind?’ Joe said.

  ‘Uh-huh?’ Laura said, and when Joe nodded down to her ring finger, she blushed and smiled. ‘I do it a lot. It still seems strange, being involved in wedding plans again.’

  ‘Strange?’ he said. ‘I thought it was supposed to be exciting.’

  ‘It is, I suppose, but it feels different to the first time.’

  ‘I suppose isn’t giving it much of a billing,’ he said. ‘How is it different?’

  Laura looked out of the window again as she mulled over her answer. ‘My first wedding was the usual glitzy thing. Lots of frills and white, with bridesmaids and flowers, every girl’s dream.’

  ‘And the marriage?’

  Laura gave a small laugh. ‘Not as good as the day, and maybe that’s the problem. It’s hard to see it as a big new thing, because I’ve been there before, and that’s why we’re doing it much more quietly. But I can’t say that to Jack.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Come on, Joe, you’re the one who understands how people tick. For Jack, it’s his first wedding, but for me it’s not, and the last time I went through it, the life afterwards turned sour pretty quickly. What if it happens the same with Jack?’

  ‘Do you think it will go the same way?’

  Laura thought about that, her fingers playing with her engagement ring again. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘That took a while to come.’

  Laura smiled. ‘No, I’m sure,’ she said. ‘It will work out.’

  ‘So what’s the problem?’

  ‘It’s this, all of this,’ she said, waving her hand to the window.

  ‘What, the north?’ he said, an eyebrow raised. ‘Is it that bad up here?’

  ‘No, no, you don’t understand,’ she said, laughing now. ‘It’s not as simple as that. I like it up here. It’s my home. It’s Bobby’s home. I love London, but I like the open spaces, the slower pace of life here, but the wedding makes it all so damn final. I don’t think Jack will ever move back to London, and once we are married this will be it.’

  ‘If you like it here, what’s the problem?’

  ‘Because for every day we stay up here, it makes it less likely we’ll ever go south again, and I’m a long way from my own family. From Bobby’s family. And Bobby will get settled, and he’ll meet a northern girl, and then that’s it. Leaving the north will mean leaving Bobby, and I’ll never do that. And what if me and Jack don’t work out? I’ll be stuck up here, on my own, just waiting for the occasional visit from my son.’

  ‘Jesus Christ, Laura,’ he said, laughing. ‘You’re thinking too far ahead and waiting for it to go wrong. This could be it, happy ever after.’

  Laura didn’t reply.

  ‘It’s just pre-commitment nerves, that’s all,’ Joe said.

  ‘Yeah, maybe,’ she said, then she turned to look at Joe. ‘Do you know when we got together?’

  Joe shook his head.

  ‘It was right after his father died,’ she said. ‘Was I just a crutch? I’m older than Jack. Not by much, just a couple of years, but I come with a child and baggage, and sometimes I think he could have done better.’

  ‘You’re quite a catch, Laura McGanity,’ he said, his voice softer now.

  Laura blushed quickly. ‘I wasn’t fishing for that,’ she said.

  He smiled, his eyes warm. ‘I know, but you shouldn’t go into your marriage thinking that you are not worthy of your husband. You’re an attractive woman, intelligent and funny, and your age makes you even more so.’

  Laura felt her cheeks burn red. ‘I was lonely though, back then, I’ll admit it. I’d had a couple of boyfriends, but they didn’t go anywhere. They were just someone to wake up to for a while. So was it the other way round? Was Jack my crutch?’ She laughed. ‘You know, this makes us sound just a little needy.’

  ‘I’ve never heard you talk like this before,’ Joe said. ‘You’ve got the jitters, that’
s all. If you and Jack were not meant to be, he would have been just another boyfriend. Love is like that, complicated and messy. It’s not all star-crossed fate. It’s just two people meeting at the right time, and if you click, feel that spark, well, that’s love. What was it like the first time you got together?’

  Laura turned to look out of the window and thought back to their first kiss. Comforting Jack at his father’s house, the death still raw. She was holding him, and then there was the touch, and the kiss, and yes, the spark. She remembered the excitement, nervous and lightheaded, and then the ecstasy as they made love, like a dizziness that made her want to cling onto him.

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ she said, her voice softer now, the memories giving her a glow that had been missing for most of the journey. ‘I’m thinking about it too much.’ Then she looked at Joe. ‘What about you?’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘Are you with someone?’

  He pursed his lips, noncommittal. ‘Nothing serious,’ he said.

  Laura was surprised. ‘Why do you keep it quiet?’

  ‘It’s easier that way,’ he said, and the way that he concentrated harder on the road told Laura that the conversation about Joe’s private life had just ended.

  Laura joined him in the silence and saw that the town was starting to peter out, but then Joe pulled to a stop in front of an old detached house, with a wooden bay window painted white at the front, next to a sea-green front door, art deco in style. The bottom half was redbrick, but the upper floor was rendered and painted white. The front bedroom window was large and gave views over the beach, and as she looked up, she saw the reflections of gulls as they floated over the sea.

  ‘Rupert Barker’s house?’ she asked.

  ‘If he has kept his driving documents up to date,’ Joe said, reaching for the car door handle. ‘It’s Doctor Barker, remember. You don’t want to offend him.’

  Laura had made some calls on the way, to get some background on their reluctant witness. As they stepped onto the pavement, Laura said, ‘His feelings don’t matter. I need to be quick,’ and when Joe looked at her, she added, ‘We’re sending Bobby to London, because of the van that tried to run me down. I want to get back to say goodbye.’

  ‘Well, we’re here now, so let’s hope he doesn’t waste our time,’ Joe said. ‘He could easily pretend he knows nothing, and then we get nothing.’

  ‘I’ve got the touch,’ she said, smiling. The coastal freshness landed deep into her nostrils as she took a deep breath, the sea giving the breeze some extra bite. It felt good though, a different air to the dampness of Turners Fold, and a long way from the fume-clogged oppression of London.

  She made it first to the gate, and she reached into her pocket for her identification as she approached the front door and gave the door bell a jab. As it rang loudly inside, she turned back to the sea view again. She made a mental note to bring Bobby to Cleveleys. They had passed a small fairground earlier on, and the shops sold the right mix of ice-creams and toys. He could ride his bike along the seafront.

  Joe joined her at the door.

  ‘No reply?’ he asked.

  ‘His car’s here,’ she said, and pointed towards the Volvo parked on the driveway. Laura turned and gave the bell another push.

  ‘He may have realised who we are and is hiding in the kitchen,’ she said.

  Joe stepped back and looked up. ‘There’s no one peeping out behind the curtains. See if you can hear anything through the letter box, like a television or something.’

  Laura bent forward and creaked open the flap of the letter box. She listened carefully but couldn’t hear anything, apart from the mewing of a cat.

  ‘No, nothing,’ she said, and then turned to let it close. As she did so, she paused. She had sensed something, although she wasn’t sure what. Just a hint that something wasn’t right. She opened the flap again.

  ‘What is it?’ Joe said.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, looking around, trying to work out what had flicked the switch in her mind. Then she saw it. ‘There’s a grocery bag on the side, only half-unpacked, and I can see a carton of milk. It’s a warm day. You wouldn’t leave that out. And a cat keeps on coming into the hall, looking skittish.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  Laura straightened and looked at Joe. ‘No, it’s not just that. It’s a feeling, intuition, call it what you want.’

  Joe chewed on his lip. ‘Try the door.’

  Laura reached up for the door knob, and when she turned it and pushed, the door swung open slowly.

  Laura looked at Joe and raised her eyebrows.

  ‘If he’s hiding, we might as well find him,’ Joe said, and stepped into the hallway.

  As Laura followed him, she thought she could hear the drip of a tap. The cat bounded into the hall again, it’s tail thick.

  The hallway went past the stairs and towards the kitchen at the back of the house, with two doors going off to the left. As Joe went past the living room, he gave the door a push, and as it swung open, Laura saw that there was no one inside. There was just a sofa and a television, bookshelves lining the alcove formed by the chimney breast, filled with the orange spines of Penguin first editions.

  Laura stepped around Joe and went towards the kitchen. She looked inside the bag. ‘There’s some meat in here too,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t it go in the fridge?’ She stepped out of the kitchen. ‘Doctor Barker?’ she shouted, but there was no response.

  Joe stepped past her, and then he pointed towards the back door. ‘There’s a broken pane there,’ he said, and then pointed downwards. ‘There’s glass on the floor.’

  ‘We need to be careful where we go then,’ she said. ‘If something has happened here, we don’t want to mess up the forensics.’ She saw that the door to the second room was slightly ajar, and so she tapped the bottom of the door with her foot. It swung open with a creak, and the room came into view. No one there.

  She retreated along the hall. ‘Doctor Barker?’ she shouted again, and then she turned towards the stairs. As she looked up, she said, ‘Oh shit!’

  ‘What is it?’

  Laura pointed upwards.

  Rupert Barker was lying across the landing, his face looking down the stairs, clearly dead. And there was a piece of cloth sticking out between his bloated cheeks.

  Chapter Forty

  As Jack arrived home, he saw that there was someone waiting for him, pacing up and down. He was young, early twenties perhaps, dressed in a cream shirt hanging loose over denims. He watched Jack as he stepped out of the car.

  Jack approached the visitor carefully, who seemed nervous, with some bruising around his cheek, his nose lopsided, as if it had been knocked to one side. ‘Can I help you?’ Jack said, as he got closer.

  ‘Jack Garrett?’ he said.

  Jack nodded.

  ‘I’m Adam Carter, Jane Roberts’ boyfriend,’ he said, and then his eyes filmed over as he corrected himself. ‘Ex-boyfriend, that is.’

  Jack studied him for a few seconds, and from the way that he looked at the floor to compose himself, he guessed that he wasn’t there to cause trouble.

  ‘Look, if you’re here to cause a scene, I just write stories,’ Jack said. ‘I’m not the villain.’

  Adam nodded. ‘I understand,’ he said, and then held out his hands. ‘Don’t worry, that’s not why I’m here. I’ve had enough trouble already.’

  Jack pointed towards the bruising. ‘Jane’s father?’

  He nodded. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘It seems like his style, and he’s not exactly your biggest fan,’ Jack said. ‘When did it happen?’

  Adam’s shoulders slumped. ‘Last night.’

  ‘What did he say?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It made you come here.’

  Adam thought about that for a few seconds, and then said, ‘He wanted to know what I’d told the police. I told him that I’d answered their questions.’

  ‘And that g
ot you a black eye and a bust nose?’

  Adam shrugged. ‘He asked me to prove where I was on the night she disappeared, and so I told him, that I was waiting behind the Black Bull for her to turn up, because we had to do this subterfuge thing, where she had to slink around trying to get to me without being caught. He didn’t like it when I said that if he had been less strict with her, she would still be alive, because she wouldn’t have been out on her own.’ He rubbed his cheek. ‘That’s when the punch came.’

  ‘Don is hurting,’ Jack said.

  ‘What, so I should cut him some slack?’ Adam said, his voice rising a notch. ‘Why the hell should I? What have I done wrong, except love his daughter? And what is he doing to help find her killer?’ He stepped closer. ‘Nothing, that’s what, except attack me. What good will that do?’

  ‘And what do you want from me?’

  ‘I want to tell Jane’s story, so that everyone knows about her,’ he said. ‘I can tell you about Don, if you want. How he makes his money, and why he won’t go to the police.’

  ‘How will that help find Jane’s killer?’

  ‘That depends on how you write it.’ Adam pointed towards the door. ‘If we go inside, I’ll tell you all you need to know.’

  Jack checked his watch. Two thirty. He wanted to go to Bobby’s school to make sure his father turned up. But then he thought of the story, and reckoned he had enough time. Just.

  Jack pushed open the door and smiled. ‘Okay, Adam, let’s talk. But make it quick.’

  ‘So when will this end?’ Laura said to Joe.

  They were both pacing up and down, looking at the house. There was a police officer stationed by the gate and two white vans outside. Laura could see the white forensic suits moving around in the house through the glass in the door.

  ‘When we catch him,’ Joe said. ‘This is no spree killer, who’ll end it with a suicide. This one is killing for thrills, and so we will have to stop him ourselves.’ He looked at Laura as he said, ‘There is one glimmer of hope.’