Next to Die (28 page)

‘But we’re not trying to convict anyone.’

‘Exactly,’ Joe said. ‘All we have to do is create some doubt. That will be enough to keep Ronnie out of prison.’

‘There might be another way we can use him,’ Gina said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ve spoken to a lot of killers in my police career, more than you ever will. I’ve seen how they behave before they get caught. Terry reminded me of one of them, trying to make himself important. Look how he was with his fake medals. That’s the kind of man he is, wants to be the centre of everything, but the real Terry Day shone through when he talked about Grace. His eyes lit up, he was animated, distant. He has watched that girl, I can guarantee it, and men like him, well, what do you think?’

Joe was surprised. ‘I thought you were against blaming Terry Day.’

‘I was, but I’ve met him now, and know more about him.’

‘So you think we make it look like Terry did it after all?’

‘Why not?’

‘Because we need to have a strategy, not just blunder into questions not knowing which one ours is. Do we believe him? All we have to do is make the jury think that he might be telling the truth. If we try to convince them that he’s a liar because he’s the killer, that is a higher risk, because the only evidence for that is your suspicion, because Ronnie’s daughter is cute. Even Ronnie will agree with that opinion.’

‘So what do we do?’

‘Simple. We find out why we weren’t told about it. I know where I’m going. I need you to do something as well. Find out where Monica is, because I’m uneasy. She hasn’t called in sick and this isn’t like her.’

‘I know, I don’t like it either,’ Gina said quietly. ‘Something’s wrong.’

Forty-Seven

Sam was quiet all the way to Julie McGovern’s home, Charlotte, the young detective, in the passenger seat. Charlotte tried to start a conversation, just to break the awkwardness.

‘I heard that your brother is a defence lawyer,’ she said.

‘Yes.’

Charlotte waited for him to expand, but when Sam stayed silent she gave up and stared out of the window instead, at the mix of the old and the new, terraced streets and clusters of new housing, where the old grime had been bulldozed away to make space for the new grime. Long strips of houses lined along cobbled streets had been replaced by low-rise redbrick, surrounded by straggly grass, the only colour from dandelions, all connected by alleyways that provided hiding spaces for drug dealers, the streetlights smashed in the darkest corners, featureless tarmac showing the way.

The streets opened out as they got closer, into the long curves of suburbia, the houses getting further back from the road.

‘I’m sorry, I’ve been rude,’ Sam said. ‘I’m distracted today. There was an incident with my sister last night and, well, it’s on my mind.’ He turned to her. ‘Me and my brother? We don’t always see eye to eye over our careers. And he’s Ronnie Bagley’s lawyer. What are the chances?’

‘Does it bother you?’

‘Let’s just say that I’m sick of having the same argument with him about it.’

Charlotte thought about that, and then said, ‘Is your brother honest?’

‘Yes,’ Sam said without hesitation. ‘He fights dirty sometimes, and I don’t think he follows all the rules, but he is honest, without a doubt.’

‘So wouldn’t you rather it be your brother who represents Ronnie Bagley? What if Ronnie had gone to one of the others, who cheat their way through cases and get witnesses to lie, just to get a win? At least this way, everyone plays fair and we get the result the case deserves, whichever way it goes.’

Sam considered that, and then he laughed. ‘I’ve never thought about it like that.’

‘There’s always another way,’ she said.

Sam was smiling as they arrived at Julie’s house. He saw that the press had thinned out, down to one television cameraman. The lens swung round as Sam pulled up and he and Charlotte climbed out of the car.

As they headed towards the front door together, a uniformed officer by the gate ensuring that only police and family made it through, they were met by the Family Liaison Officer.

‘How is it?’ Sam whispered.

‘Not as angry as yesterday,’ she said.

As Sam got inside, he saw what she meant. The day before had been frantic, wondering where Julie had gone, part anger, part distress. All that noise had gone and been replaced by silence, with her parents sitting in chairs, staring into space. It was all about waiting.

They both looked up at Sam with dread in their eyes, wondering if he was the one who was about to deliver the bad news.

Sam shook his head regretfully. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t have any information.’ They sat down and Sam pulled out a clear plastic bag from his pocket. It held the photograph. ‘You told us that Julie didn’t have a boyfriend.’

Julie’s parents looked at each other. Sam watched them carefully, to see whether either gave anything away, if one of them held a secret, but all he saw was confusion.

It was her father who spoke first. ‘She has never brought a boy home, and never mentioned one.’

Sam passed over the photograph. ‘Do you know this boy?’

Julie’s father’s hands trembled as he looked at the picture. His jaw was clenched as he handed it to his wife, who just shook her head. ‘No, I’ve never seen him,’ he said.

‘It was pinned to the shelf behind her computer monitor,’ Charlotte said. ‘Some of the scraps of paper on her desk had love hearts on them.’

It was Julie’s mother who spoke up. ‘She’s a teenage girl. She’s bound to have crushes.’ Then she frowned. ‘Julie has been very quiet lately. We were getting worried, but she’s a teenager, and that’s what they’re like, isn’t it? Moody, quiet. We don’t know about the boy though.’

‘So who is he?’ Julie’s father said. ‘Do you think he has something to do with Julie going missing?’

Sam wondered how to answer that, because the truth was that he didn’t know. Except there was something about the picture that troubled him.

‘Sometimes we have to eliminate possibilities to see what we have left. That’s all I’m trying to do, by eliminating him.’

Sam stood as if to go. Julie’s parents stayed where they were. Sam recognised the look in their eyes. They were waiting, and waiting was all their lives would hold until Julie was found. Waiting, wondering, hoping, imagining, dreading, until eventually they will come to one final conclusion: acceptance that Julie was gone forever.

Joe paced up and down outside court number four. Gina had gone to Monica’s apartment to try to find her, and Joe was waiting for Kim Reader.

The court corridor was quiet. It was almost lunchtime, and the crowds had thinned out to those people stuck at the bottom of the court list. He had a view across Crown Square through high windows, the sun outside filling the steak restaurant with customers and the steps outside the court with office workers looking for some brightness, small clouds of cigarette smoke giving away their positions. There was a noise behind him, voices and then the creak of a door. When Joe turned round, he saw it was a barrister, his wig askew, talking to the client walking behind him, who looked pleased with whatever had happened in there. Kim wouldn’t be far behind.

He was right. Kim came out, pulling a small suitcase that contained all her files. As she edged past the defence barrister and his client, they were silent, the defendant’s smile turning to a scowl. When she saw Joe, she looked towards the defendant and rolled her eyes.

‘He had the best of the morning, did he?’ Joe said, following Kim’s gaze, the defendant now hugging a young woman in hipster jeans.

‘Another final chance,’ Kim said. ‘If you look closely at the blonde wrapped around him, you’ll see a scar over her eye. He did that, with a bottle. She wrote to the court, wanting to take some of the blame, and now they’re in love again. It won’t last though, and no one knows what she’ll have to suffer next time the booze rests on a bad mood.’

‘We can’t change their lives, Kim. We just show up now and again, and then go back to our own. Don’t let it get to you.’ He smiled. ‘So are you still speaking to me?’

‘What, because of your brush off when I rang you this morning, or about your Terry Day stunt?’ She returned the smile. ‘My heart will survive you, Joe Parker, and as for Terry Day, I’m used to your little games. I just wish Joe the lawyer was more like the Joe the… well, you know.’ She blushed. ‘And speaking of violence,’ she continued, looking back to the reconciled lovers, ‘your eye doesn’t look any better this morning.’

‘It will mend. And besides, I know who did it now.’

‘Who was it?’

‘A father of someone killed by one of my clients. I don’t think it’s going to happen again, but he was the one who put me on to Terry Day.’

‘So tell me what Terry Day said, unless you’ve just come to buy me lunch.’

Joe laughed. ‘I suppose I’m sounding a little, what’s the word?’

‘Focused?’

‘Yeah, focused, I’ll go with that. But I do need to talk to you about what Terry told me.’

‘Couldn’t you call the office?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I want to see your face when you give me your answer.’

‘You know I don’t play tricks. I thought we knew each other better than that.’

‘We do. I know Kim Reader when she isn’t wearing a suit, but between nine and five you’re different.’

Kim thought about that, and then the defendant walked towards them, his girlfriend hanging on to his arm. ‘Can we go somewhere else?’ Kim said, and walked the opposite way. Joe followed, the hem of her gown floating upwards like bat wings, the tail of her horsehair wig swishing as she walked. They ended up in a small consultation room, just a table and four chairs. When he closed the door behind him, she took off the wig and put it on the table, before spending a moment straightening her hair.

‘Stupid thing,’ she said. ‘Makes me itch, and there’s no point in doing much with my hair, because it makes it a mess.’

‘You look good enough,’ Joe said.

That brought a smile. ‘I thought I was chasing you,’ she said.

‘Sometimes I want to be caught.’

‘And other times?’

‘I remember your fiancé.’

That made Kim twirl her engagement ring around her finger. ‘So go on, what’s so urgent?’

‘Is there anything you want to tell me about Terry Day?’

‘What are you talking about?’

‘Your case is that Carrie and Grace are dead.’

‘It’s a murder case. I don’t think there’s any other way you can put it.’

‘So why hadn’t I been told that Terry Day has seen your two deceased victims since they supposedly died?’

Kim opened her mouth as if to say something but then stopped, her brow furrowed. ‘What do you mean?’ she said eventually, confusion in her voice.

‘Just that. Terry Day saw Carrie and Grace in the Cathedral Gardens last week. And before you accuse me of putting words in his mouth, I have it recorded, and he said he’d told the police. If he did, they must have told you.’

Kim’s cheeks acquired a flush, her lips a little tighter than before. ‘This is the first I’ve heard of this.’

‘You agree that if Terry is right, or even if he might be right, you’ve no case? All you have is a woman trying to run away from her drunken and violent partner.’

Kim pulled the chair out and sat down. Joe sat opposite.

‘How do you know he’s telling the truth?’ she said.

‘It doesn’t matter whether he’s or not, does it? If he is, your case is doomed. If he isn’t, he’s a habitual liar, an attention seeker, so you can’t rely on him.’

‘I haven’t heard this before. It would have been disclosed if I had, you know that.’

‘So why haven’t the police told you?’

‘That is something I am going to find out,’ she said, and from the glare in her eyes, Joe knew that someone would be getting a phone call that would spoil their lunch.

Forty-Eight

Sam stepped out of his car, Charlotte just behind him. He fastened his jacket and shivered against a cold wind. They were on the moors, the rolling barren hills that brood over the city.

They were at Gilly Henderson’s house, the second girl to go missing. They had been to the other three, and Sam had shown them the photograph of the young man found pinned behind Julie’s monitor. Each time the door opened, the parents’ expressions had been the same: a mixture of fear and hope, that news of their daughter might be the news they dreaded. The reaction was the same too, part relief, because without the bad news they really expected, their hopes stayed alive, however slim.

Their answers had been the same too – they had never seen him before.

Charlotte joined Sam as they looked down at Gilly Henderson’s house. They were parked on a farm track, two dirt ruts cutting through dark coarse grass. There were sheep on the field next to them, and lower down, where the land levelled out, was a two-storey farmhouse under a dark slate roof. The upstairs windows were like tiny peepholes, the bedrooms built into what was once a roof space.

‘Are you sure this is the right place?’ Sam said. All he could see as he looked around were the dark greens and browns of moorland heather and grass, which dipped and climbed without any trees to slow down the winds, scarred by dry-stone walls and brightened by the occasional glimmer of water, reservoirs fashioned out of the valleys. One way was the climb and then the drop into Yorkshire. The other was the grey sprawl of Manchester, like a dirty stain in the distance against the bleakness of the hills.

‘I came here once before,’ Charlotte said. ‘The girl’s father was one of the prosecution barristers in the Grant case. Bill Henderson. A nice man. He said he could retire, but the legal work gave him the safety net so that he could do this, a bit of sheep farming and getting away from it all.’

As Sam looked around, he said, ‘It’s hard to blame the man.’

‘Try this in November, when it’s all wind and driving rain. You might think differently,’ Charlotte said. ‘What do we do if we get another no?’

‘We go around Julie’s friends,’ Sam said. ‘If no one knows who he is, then I’m even more suspicious.’