Payback (50 page)
The police were still conducting a search of her house when Shirley Preston arrived home. She could see the neighbours’ curtains twitching, but was determined to walk up the path with her head held high. She had experienced police raids in the past, thanks to her son Johnny bringing trouble to her door in his teenage years. She had wanted to stay at the police station with Jamie, but he’d refused to speak in front of her, saying he would prefer to have a social worker in the room, which worried Shirley terribly.
Her heart lurched as she spotted a police officer walk down the stairs with what she assumed was two bags of evidence. She could clearly see some of her grandson’s clothes in one bag, and the other looked like it was full of old newspapers. ‘He didn’t do it, you know. My Jamie might not be an angel, but he would never abduct or harm a child.’
‘We’ll be the judge of that,’ the officer replied cockily.
Shirley’s hand wouldn’t stop shaking as she put the kettle on. She could see two officers in her back garden with a bloody sniffer dog. Deciding she needed something stronger than tea, Shirley poured herself a large brandy.
This situation was a nightmare and she had no family to turn to. She could not ring her daughter as she had already disowned Jamie, and she could not ring her son as it was his granddaughter that Jamie had been arrested on suspicion of abducting.
Specialist police dogs were trained to perfection. When scenting death they would become excitable, their tails would wag, but they were taught not to start digging in case they disturbed vital evidence.
When the dog handler’s finest two canines suddenly ran to a spot of land and sat down beside it with their tails wagging, the team of police officers ran towards it. Seconds later, they spotted the arm.
Christopher Walker had been both surprised and horrified to get a message on his pager from Ahmed Zane. It was hard to believe Vinny would go ahead with a big drug deal while his daughter was missing. Then again, with a heartless bastard like that, who knew what he was capable of?
Ahmed was already waiting in the pub car park near to their usual meeting point when Christopher pulled up. The country park was shut this time of night. His heart felt like a lead weight as he got out of his car and into Ahmed’s. ‘Hello, Christopher. How are you?’
‘Fine, thanks. Yourself?’
‘Well, I am not so fine. But I do have some good news for you.’
‘Go on.’
‘The drug bust is off. Vinny had far too much on his plate to want to participate, and I am planning on spending some time in Turkey in the near future.’
Christopher could feel the relief seeping through his pores. It was Olivia’s birthday next month and, even though they had not been together for long, their relationship was very intense and he knew she was the one for him. However, he could never have proposed with the Vinny dilemma hanging over his head.
‘Thank you for letting me know, Ahmed. I appreciate you driving here tonight to tell me the news.’
‘That wasn’t the only reason I drove here. I need a favour, and it is definitely in your best interest to help me.’
His elation cut short, Christopher could only mumble, ‘What?’
‘Well, the other man who was helping us in our campaign to lock Vinny up has done a disappearing act, Christopher. He knows too much and needs to be found, quickly. His name is Carl Thompson.’
When DS Townsend arrived at the scene of the crime, the area was already cordoned off with tape. Some of the earth had been moved to reveal the identity of the victim, and Townsend bent down to take a closer look.
The skin was discoloured, the insects had most certainly had a nibble, but the body was not that decomposed. The child’s mop of curly blonde hair was clear to see, even though it was caked in mud, and as Townsend turned away, he felt sick. There was nothing worse than seeing the dead body of a murdered child. A terrible waste of a young life.
Back at Arbour Square police station, Jamie Preston had now started to talk after his earlier tantrum.
When his grandmother had left, Jamie had started kicking and punching the walls while protesting his innocence, and at the insistence of the on-duty solicitor and social worker, had been put in a cell to calm down.
Smithers had now decided to play Mr Nice Guy instead of Mr Nasty and that seemed to be having the desired effect on Jamie, who was starting to open up a bit.
‘As I told you before, I was only sat outside the club that day because it would have been my brother Mark’s eighteenth birthday and that’s where he died. I miss Mark so much, so I went there to pay my respects. That’s why I was drinking cider, to toast my brother’s life.’
‘So, why did you return to the area again today, Jamie?’
‘I wasn’t there today,’ Jamie lied.
‘You’re not doing yourself any favours here, lad. If you want me to believe you’re innocent, you must be truthful with me. You were seen in the area today.’
When Jamie did not reply, Smithers changed the subject. ‘Why did you cut the newspaper articles out, Jamie? The police found lots of newspapers under your bed and all the cuttings of Molly in the sleeve of one of your record covers.’
‘Because I hate Vinny Butler. It’s his fault that Mark is dead, and I hope he’s suffering like my brother suffered when he got burnt. I can still hear his screams now, and there was nothing I could do to help him. Plus he tried to kill me.’
‘Who tried to kill you? Vinny?’
Jamie’s tears were ones of pure anger. ‘Yes – he tried to make my mum abort me. He even paid her to get rid of me and said, if she didn’t, he would get rid of me himself. That’s why my mum had to move away from the area before I was born. I would have been killed otherwise and so would she. That’s why we moved to Suffolk.’
Smithers was becoming more bemused by the second. ‘Is Vinny your dad, Jamie?’
‘No. Vinny’s my half brother. My dad is Albie Butler.’
Smithers crouched down next to the shallow grave. The skin of the child had begun to discolour and there were signs that decomposure had set in, but there was no question that the child was Molly Butler.
A police photographer had just arrived, along with the Scenes of Crime Officers who would conduct the search for evidence.
Spotting DC Clarke, Smithers walked over to him. ‘Well?’
‘The doll was the same model. It’s with forensics now. The two little girls know the exact spot it was found and their mother is allowing them to take the day off school tomorrow, so they can show us in the morning. They found the doll near some horses they were feeding.’
Smithers nodded. There seemed to be no horses nearby, so the girls’ information could be vital. It would help them pinpoint the route the murderer had taken, then they could cordon off the whole area. If the doll had been accidentally dropped, there was no telling what other clues might have been left behind. The smallest detail could prove vital in securing a prosecution.
Townsend walked over to Smithers. ‘How’s it going with the boy? Has he cracked yet?’
‘No. Still protesting his innocence. Turns out he’s Vinny’s half-brother.’
‘What?’
‘Hates Vinny with a passion. It’s a long story, I’ll fill you in tomorrow.’
‘Have you played him the tape yet?’
Smithers shook his head. The last time their mystery caller had phoned the police station to say he had Molly, the call had been recorded via the intercept equipment borrowed from New Scotland Yard. There was no doubt that it was Jamie Preston. The voice was exactly the same. ‘I know we’ve got our culprit. I’ll surprise him with the tape tomorrow. The little shit will crack then.’
Townsend nodded. ‘Who’s going to deliver the bad news to the parents?’
‘You and Clarke do it. Go now. I can handle things here.’
Nancy was sitting in Joanna’s lounge. Jo had fainted twice this evening and the GP had not long left. A combination of stress, lack of food and sleep was his diagnosis, and he had given Jo some tablets to help her get some rest.
Deborah had forced Jo to eat a piece of toast, pop a pill, then she’d taken her upstairs to bed, which was why Nancy was currently sitting alone and deep in thought. Dean had not been in the first time she had rung him, but she had finally got hold of him earlier this evening.
It had been strange, hearing his voice again, but at the same time comforting. Dean was living in Glasgow now and had his own painting and decorating company. He was currently single and Nancy had not replied when he told her that he had never forgotten her and urged her to visit him.
Once that awkward moment was over, they had chatted like old friends. Dean had asked lots of questions about Tara and Tommy, and Nancy had told him all about her boys. Molly’s disappearance was another topic of conversation, and Dean admitted he was furious his nan had given an interview to the
News of the World
as he was now concerned for her safety.
When Dean asked her if she was happy with Michael, Nancy said she was. But then she found herself blurting out what Daniel had done at school, how Michael had backed their son’s violent actions, and how she was worried for the future of her boys.
The conversation had ended with Dean giving her the same advice as he had once before. ‘Nance, you have to get away from that family. I miss Tara every day and I’m glad I never saw Tommy as it would have made my leaving twice as difficult. But trouble will always follow the Butlers. Molly hasn’t gone missing by accident; she’s been taken as some form of revenge. So if I was you, I would get the hell out of there and take those boys of yours with you.’
Knowing Dean was right to some extent, Nancy had ended the conversation by saying she had run out of change. She did however promise to keep in touch and said she would ring him again soon.
Now she was doing her best to forget about their chat and try to relax. She poured herself a glass of wine and turned the radio on. Recognizing the opening bars of Thin Lizzy’s ‘Killer on the Loose’, she quickly turned it off. With Molly still missing, that was the last thing she needed to hear.
When the doorbell rang, Nancy nigh-on jumped out of her skin. A visit at this time of night was an ominous sign.
Deborah ran down the stairs. ‘I’ll get it.’
Joanna had dozed off, but had woken when she heard the doorbell, and was now standing at the top of the stairs in a pink nightdress. ‘Who is it, Mum?’
As soon as Nancy and Deborah saw the sombre look on the policemen’s faces, they knew.
‘Come in,’ Deborah said, in no more than a whisper.
Townsend had had plenty of opportunity to get used to this part of the job over the years. He had told so many people their loved ones were dead, it ought to have been routine by now. But he still found it extremely difficult when a child was involved. Especially one as young as Molly.
Joanna ran down the stairs. ‘Have you found Molly? Please tell me she’s OK?’ she begged.
Guessing what news DS Townsend was about to deliver, Deborah put her arms around her daughter and held her tightly.
‘I am so sorry. But we have found the body of a child that we believe to be Molly.’
Joanna broke away from her mother’s grasp, picked up Nancy’s wine glass and threw it against the wall. She then sank to her knees and sobbed uncontrollably. ‘She can’t be dead. Not my Molly. It can’t be her. It must be somebody else’s child. It’s not Molly, it’s not,’ she screamed.
Vinny was sitting at the club knocking back the Scotch with Michael. He knew that the longer the club was shut, the more custom he would lose to Denny McCann, but that was the least of his problems. Right now he couldn’t care less if the club never re-opened.
Little Vinny was sitting at the table sipping half a cider. ‘Where’s Albie gone?’ he asked. He never referred to Albie as his grandfather. The reason being, he did not like him very much.
‘Yeah, where is the old bastard?’ Vinny reiterated.
‘Don’t call him that, Vin. He’s been as good as gold lately. Dad’s staying at mine. I asked him to keep an eye on the house for me. I don’t like leaving it empty of a night at the moment,’ Michael lied. Albie had asked if he could stay at his because he couldn’t bear to be in the same room as Vinny.
‘Shall I get that, Dad?’ Little Vinny asked, when the buzzer rang.
‘Yeah, it’s probably Ahmed.’
Vinny stood up, his heart beating wildly when he saw DS Townsend and a colleague walk into the club. It was nearly midnight. ‘What’s happened? Have you found Molly?’
Townsend took a deep breath. Out of all the parents he had delivered such awful news to during his career, he was dreading telling Vinny Butler the most. ‘I am really sorry, Vinny, but it’s bad news I’m afraid. We have recovered the body of a child that we believe to be Molly.’
Feeling his legs buckle underneath him, Vinny fell backwards onto the leather sofa. Speechless, he put his head in his hands. Images flashed through his mind. Holding Molly the day she was born and vowing to protect her for the rest of his life. His daughter’s first smile, steps and words flashed through his mind. The day she had held her chubby arms out and uttered the word ‘Dadda’ for the first time, he had very nearly burst with pride. Now she was gone. Gone for ever, and part of him had died with her.
Little Vinny was distraught. ‘I am so sorry, Dad. This is all my fault. If only I hadn’t fallen asleep that day. I loved my little sister and I will never be able to forgive myself, not ever,’ he sobbed.
An ashen-faced Michael put an arm around his nephew. ‘It isn’t your fault. Go upstairs, boy, while me and your dad talk to the police, eh?’
As soon as Little Vinny was out of earshot, Michael asked the obvious. ‘Was Molly murdered? Where did you find her?’
‘The body was found buried in the wasteland that backs onto Wallis Road in Hackney. We are treating the death as suspicious, but will not know the exact details until a post-mortem is carried out. Obviously, we will need a family member to identify the body. But we strongly believe that it is Molly.’
Vinny was tapping his fingertips against the table in an odd manner. When he looked up, Townsend noticed a dangerous glint in his eyes. ‘Don’t give me all that “suspicious” bollocks. You must know if my daughter was fucking murdered or not?’