The Winter Killings, page 21
‘Are the neighbours in?’ Rice raised an eyebrow. ‘This could all be done without drawing too much attention. Cassandra probably wouldn’t like that.’
Robert lowered his eyes. It’d be sinking in now that his time was up.
‘Help us with this,’ Gardner said. ‘In late 1990, your company acted on behalf of Penstone Ltd to fight accusations on behalf of Helping Hands. Successfully I might add. I’m assuming the pay-offs were substantial. After all, you had the backing of a cash cow in KYLO.’
Robert shook his head.
‘You also acted on behalf of Froisters Chemicals Ltd to lease property from John Atkinson. Froisters was an arm of KYLO.’
‘Lots of connections to KYLO there,’ Rice said. He made a show of looking around the impressive lounge. ‘Lots of money in KYLO. Makes sense. Also, James Sykes worked for KYLO. Now he’s dead. Another coincidence?’
‘I certainly didn’t kill him,’ Robert hissed, glaring at Rice.
‘Are you confirming that KYLO employed you on those two occasions?’ Gardner asked.
‘No comment.’
‘How much did they pay you?’ Rice asked.
‘No comment.’
‘But you acted on behalf of the homeless shelter when the families of Isla Holt and Melissa Sale demanded the truth?’
‘I acted on behalf of a lot of companies.’
‘You’re saying you can’t remember?’ Gardner said. ‘Strange. A case like that would surely stick in someone’s mind. It had media coverage.’
‘No comment. I want to phone my solicitor.’
‘I’m assuming you knew about the six miscarriages, too. The media flagged them up.’
He looked like he was going to throw up.
‘Turns out they weren’t miscarriages. That the children were stillborn.’
‘Who said?’ Robert creased his brow.
‘Piqued your interest, eh?’ Rice asked. ‘We’ve someone who remembers. No doubt we can find more people who remember.’
‘So, if they were stillborn, why were they not registered at the registry office?’ Gardner asked.
Robert reached over for his mobile.
‘We also have reason to believe that the babies may have survived. A witness that heard them crying.’
Robert dragged his mobile towards him. ‘I’m phoning my solicitor.’
‘You can do it from the station,’ Gardner said. ‘I’m arresting you on—’
‘No!’ Robert shouted.
Rice rose from his seat.
Gardner regarded Robert.
‘No!’ Robert’s eyes swung back and forth. He looked like a rabbit trapped in someone’s headlights. Gardner held up her hand to tell Rice to hang back.
The truth was close. And even though she knew the truth now, she wanted to hear him say it.
Robert dropped his phone and put his face into his hands. He stayed there for about half a minute before looking back up. ‘Just know that this is on me… and not Cassandra. She’d nothing to do with it. If you do that, I’ll tell you everything.’
‘Whose child is Ruby May?’ Gardner asked.
Robert put his face in his hands and cried.
Gardner and Rice exchanged a glance.
‘I manipulated her into doing it… she was so desperate for children. I lied to her. Cassandra is innocent! Although she knew that I’d pulled strings, she was clueless about Ruby’s origin.’
‘Cassandra is on the birth certificate, Robert. She’s lied about giving birth to that child.’
‘Please…’ He looked between them with tears running down his face. ‘Please… I’ll give you everything. Anything. Just protect Cassandra. Protect the mother of our child!’
‘But she’s not her mother, is she?’ Rice said. ‘Who was Ruby May’s real mother?’
Robert slipped from the sofa to his knees, sobbing.
Gardner exchanged another glance with Rice.
Robert leaned forward and swooped up the picture of Ruby May that Rice had set on the table. He clutched it to his chest as he cried, ‘She can’t ever know… Ruby can’t ever know… it’d destroy Cassandra.’
You should have thought about that before you stole her.
‘It’ll destroy our family. Please, I beg you… just take me and leave them both alone.’
‘It’s not how it works,’ Gardner said, but then he was far from rational now, so she was wasting her breath. ‘Who’s Ruby’s actual mother?’ Gardner asked.
‘Dead!’ Robert pleaded. ‘What life would she have had in the system? Can you not see that I thought I was doing the right thing?’
‘No, I can’t. Who was the mother?’
‘They found her hanging. Suicide. Is that really what Ruby needs to know? Is that what you’re going to make her live with?’
‘Melissa Sale,’ Gardner said, recalling the second suicide. ‘That was her name. One of many sad and lonely women, that came to that shelter for help. One of many sad and lonely women that this system failed. One of many sad and lonely women that you exploited…’
…you evil, snivelling bastard.
50
The lock gave way with a metallic groan.
Trembling, Barnett pushed the old barn door open; the hinges protested with a grating sound. It’d been a while – a long while – since someone had been through this door.
He checked over his shoulder for O’Brien. She was mere inches behind him. Was now the time to order her to run?
He caught sight of Jen’s wild eyes, and the glint of her shotgun.
No. Too close.
Barnett turned back and went inside the barn.
The air was rank, and Barnett gagged. Although, it could very well be the fear that caused the reflex, rather than the stale air.
The rows of empty pens lining the sides of the barn spoke of an era when it had harboured animals. As he passed them, he glanced down at the wooden barriers worn by time, and then the ground, which was a patchwork of trodden earth and scattered straw.
He paused midway into the barn and leaned against a barrier.
‘To the end,’ Jen hissed.
Walking into this icy tomb was suicide. He didn’t know what awaited them further inside, but it couldn’t be anything good. And to think they were walking away after seeing whatever it was would be pure delusion. She’d gunned down her own husband to protect whatever this secret was. She wouldn’t be letting two police officers walk free after they knew.
It had to be now or never.
‘Now,’ Jen said.
‘Not until you tell me why.’
‘I told you: I’ll show you. Just a bit further—’
‘No.’
‘Turn around, then.’
Barnett steeled himself. Now was the moment. Charging her down while she wielded a shotgun was perilous, but if anyone was getting out of here alive, a chance had to be taken. The likelihood of him taking her to the ground, and taking the gun from her, was minimal, but even if she got a shot off, he may get fortunate and only be winged. All of this provided an opportunity for O’Brien to run.
It was his fault she was here.
This was his sacrifice to make.
He turned and saw that she was pointing her shotgun at O’Brien’s head.
Shit. That trick again.
Well, it’d worked outside the first time. Why wouldn’t she do it again?
He raised his hands. ‘No… okay… you win. I’ll go… lower it…’
Jen didn’t look at Barnett. She kept her eyes firmly fixed on O’Brien, who was trembling.
Barnett edged forward. Jen must have caught his movement out of the corner of her eye and jabbed the shotgun against O’Brien’s forehead. ‘Stop yourself!’
‘Okay… okay… please.’ He put his hands together, begging her. ‘Please.’
‘Go.’
‘And do what?’ Barnett’s heart raced; he flicked his eyes back and forth between the quivering face of his colleague, and the cold, grim face of the woman on the edge. ‘See before it’s gone. All gone. Before I burn everything to the ground.’
‘Just do nothing yet, okay?’ Barnett said.
O’Brien spoke, her voice quivering. ‘Mrs Atkinson, we can still help—’
‘Don’t,’ Jen hissed, pushing the shotgun against her head again. ‘Just don’t.’
‘Okay.’ Barnett turned. There were three more pens.
‘Back one, on the left.’
Barnett walked. This was a complete disaster. He felt like throwing up. With every footstep, he expected to hear the shotgun discharging. He just hoped it came in his direction rather than O’Brien’s.
He glanced up, regarding the shafts of light piercing through the cracks and holes in the barn’s structure. It made shadows dance around him. Long, haunting ones. But they didn’t scare him. The only thing that terrified him now was the woman, radically out of control, about to end their lives.
He passed another pen. He was at the penultimate one. The stench of rot was more pronounced here. Expecting the worst, he tried to squint and see into the adjacent one but made out only a mound of hay.
‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Jen called out behind him. ‘She came here. You understand that. She came here and, God rest her soul, I just couldn’t… I just couldn’t let that happen. Let her destroy everything.’
Who came here?
‘This wasn’t on us, do you hear? This wasn’t on us. She never knew. Someone told her.’
Told her what?
He wanted to shout back, but his concern for O’Brien was overwhelming now, and his eyes were fixed on the mound of hay as he neared.
‘Mary Evans said she was here for her daughter. A lie, don’t you see? Clara’s my daughter. Hasn’t been any other way since as long as I can remember and can never change.’
Barnett took a deep breath. Hidden in the hay, half-buried and partially obscured, were human remains.
‘This isn’t my fault. Whoever told her is to blame for this. John couldn’t understand this… he couldn’t live with it… I desperately wanted to believe that today would never come. But deep down, I knew. I just knew. The past never stays buried, does it?’
Barnett was still regarding the remains. His hand to his mouth. The presentation of these bones was different from the ones in the other barn. The others had been intact, presented with some dignity. These were smashed and scattered.
‘And I’m sorry now, for what’s got to happen, I really am. But Clara can never know.’
‘No.’ Barnett turned back.
O’Brien was looking in his direction, quivering, with the shotgun still against her head.
‘Jen, put the gun down,’ Barnett said. ‘This has gone far enough. You’ll make it worse. This can’t be stopped now.’
‘It can,’ Jen said. ‘I’ll burn everything. This. The farmhouse. Us. No one will ever realise. Clara will never find out.’
‘Think, Jen,’ O’Brien protested. ‘Think about it. What we knew coming in today, others know too. Like you said, the past can’t stay buried. This isn’t the way to protect Clara. Nothing can protect her from the truth now. I’m sorry, but that’s the reality. If you do this, you’ll only make it worse for her.’
‘No… you’re wrong!’
Barnett heard something from over near the remains. He flicked his head back, seeing a rat emerge from behind the hay. It was massive. The rat eyed him up, and then bolted when it heard the booming sound of the shotgun.
51
After his emotional collapse, Robert Thwaites verified that he’d demanded Sykes give him Melissa’s child as further payment for saving him from prison.
‘Looking back, I think I was atoning for the harm I’d caused covering up this whole situation. It tore me to pieces getting that bastard Sykes off with everything he’d done, but I thought that if I gave this girl a home, instead of letting her go into the system, then I’d be doing some good.’
Nonsense, Gardner thought. You were looking after number one. There was no buyer for the fifth child, yet you saw an opportunity. The game was up for Sykes anyway – you couldn’t possibly let him off and find a buyer. And you certainly couldn’t allow the baby to go into the system, because that would be the same as admitting the truth, something you’d been paid handsomely to bury. If anything, you helped James again – by taking all responsibility from him.
‘And the sixth baby went to John Atkinson. A friend of yours. Someone else struggling to have children. Who was the mother of the sixth child? We’ve the list if it’d be easier to hear them read out?’
‘No… it was Mary Evans,’ Robert said, rubbing his forehead. He fixed Gardner with a stare. ‘A homeless drug addict. What life could she offer?’
‘So, you brought your friend John into the loop,’ Gardner said.
‘Did he pay for his daughter, or did he score a freebie like you?’ Rice asked.
Robert glared at Rice. ‘John allowed KYLO use of his land for many, many years following the expiration of the first contract. But again, I knew he’d give Clara a good life. It was my choice.’
‘It was never your decision to make,’ Gardner hissed.
‘Was Mary Evans never any the wiser about the fact that her child survived?’ Rice asked.
‘None of them were,’ Robert said. ‘James Sykes ensured they were that pumped full of drugs when they were induced. They didn’t know the baby was being stolen. The nurse had already told them the baby had died… inside…’ He hung his head in shame. ‘Any that suspected they heard the baby crying or felt the baby’s movements were told that they’d hallucinated because of blood loss.’
Gardner shook her head. ‘How many lives destroyed for money, for KYLO, for you?’
‘I’d no part in that process,’ Robert hissed.
‘By covering it up, you’d one of the biggest parts!’
‘It’s been hard, but I’ve made some peace with it. Those six children were given a chance when they had none.’
‘Maybe, if people like you were protecting the systems in this country, instead of abusing them, they could have had wonderful lives,’ Rice said.
Gardner shook her head. ‘How do you square it with the depression that came because of this atrocity? Suicide, drug overdoses… four innocent women died because of what Sykes did. And the two that survived. Amina and Mary? They would’ve walked away empty. Hollowed out—’
‘They were paid well for their silence.’
Gardner sucked in a deep breath.
Paid well.
She thought of Barnett, and her blood ran cold. ‘You’re lying.’
Robert squinted. ‘Why would I lie? Yes, I know what happened with Amina Ndiaye. She built a new life because of that money. That’s one of the few good things to come out of this sorry—’
‘Listen,’ Gardner said, pointing at him. ‘Nothing good has come from this. It makes me sick to the stomach to hear you even suggest it.’
Robert shrugged. ‘Mary Evans, unfortunately, spent her money on drugs and hit the streets again. I doubt she’d have made an excellent mother.’
‘How do you even know that? Children change people,’ Gardner said.
‘It clearly hasn’t changed you,’ Rice hissed.
Gardner nodded in agreement. ‘So, did Mary and Amina know their children had survived?’
Robert shook his head. ‘No… but we still paid them significantly to sign non-disclosures. We never wanted them speaking out against Bright Day should they remember anything or start to suspect something. But, we were very confident that they had no idea about their children.’
Gardner sighed as she lowered her head. Amina hadn’t intentionally walked away from her stolen child for money, which was something. But it wouldn’t stop Barnett being absolutely devastated.
‘I’m not usually lost for words,’ Rice said. ‘But the way you’ve treated the vulnerable… I can’t even comprehend it. Boss… can I have the honours of this one?’
Gardner rose to her feet. ‘Be my guest, Detective Inspector, but sit with him until the other officers arrive to transport him. Do it when they arrive. I really need to contact someone first. Ah, one last question,’ Gardner said. ‘With everything we have, there isn’t any more point in lying. So, tell me, did you have anything to do with James’ death?’
He shook his head rigorously. ‘Nothing.’
‘Any idea who did?’
‘Honestly… no…’ He rubbed his face with his hands, his fingers digging into his skin, as if trying to physically wipe away his despair.
Gardner nodded and turned.
Robert called out after her, ‘She’s had a good life, DCI Gardner. Ruby May. And so has, Clara, and all the other children. I’ve checked up on them. None of them have ever wanted for anything.’
Gardner stopped, rubbed her eyes and turned back. She looked long and hard at Robert. She felt a curious mix of rage and sadness.
She pointed at him. ‘I’m glad they were happy. I really am. But six lives were ruined. For Isla, Melissa, Seren, Tia, Amina and Mary. Mr Thwaites, you never deserve to see the light of day again.’
‘I won’t go to jail. The things I can give you on KYLO,’ Robert said. ‘It’ll be in the interests of your seniors to listen.’
Again, Gardner felt her blood run cold. His threat wasn’t empty.
‘Maybe,’ Gardner said. ‘Maybe you’ll walk free. Except… how free, and how light will those days be – when your daughter learns the truth about you?’
His face fell.
52
It took Gardner a few minutes to compose herself in the car before she contacted Neville Fairweather on the number he’d given her.
Unsurprisingly, there was no answer.
She unleashed a voicemail. ‘Six stolen children. Six. And KYLO, the company you were a shareholder in, covered it all up. Abduction! You knew, didn’t you? How could you? All your nonsense about the greater good. This stinks. Four women died. You must have known. And what of the two mothers who survived? Mary Evans and Amina Ndiaye. Were you complicit in paying for them to sign NDAs? You as good as bought their children from them. You talked to me about a world we can’t see. A world that needs order. Is this what you’re referring to? KYLO? And is this the order? You give me this number to help you protect my brother. A brother I don’t really have any desire to protect, anyway. It’s bullshit. Who’re you? What do you want? Listen, Neville. You’ve one hour to phone me back, or I’m taking you down. So, help me God, I’m taking you down.’
