The Reckoning (8 page)

FOURTEEN

Donna was taking photographs of the vandalism
done to the vehicles belonging to the Dean Stables, having fetched the camera
from the station, when her phone rang. Lowering the camera she reached into her
pocket for the phone.

A glance at the screen told her the call had
been diverted from the station.

“Constable Harp, how can I help you?” she
inquired, wondering if the call was important, or something she would be able
to deal with another time.

“Donna, it’s Geoff Carver.”

Though she didn’t know the landlord of The
Village Green well, Donna knew him well enough to recognise his booming voice.
Not that that was difficult. Anyone who had spent time in the village’s only
pub, or watched a cricket match on the village green, could have recognised his
voice.

“Good afternoon, Mr Carver, how can I help
you?” Donna wanted to know.

“My car park has just been taken over by a
couple of news crews,” he reported in an aggrieved tone. “I don’t know who they
work for but they just pulled up and began setting up their equipment. They’re
taking up the whole place; didn’t ask my permission or nothing.”

Donna bit back the urge to swear. She wasn’t
pleased to hear that there was more strangers in the village for her to deal
with, especially since she didn’t have the first clue how to deal with them.
The reporter was enough of a problem, without having news crews there, who
could report everything they discovered almost immediately, as well.

She didn’t know where Justin Over was at that
time, or who he was talking to. She wasn’t sure what she could have done even
if she had known. With the news that more strangers had arrived in the village
to cause problems, she realised she needed help and advice.

Three people immediately came to mind as
sources for advice; her grandmother, Inspector Livingstone and Jason Denton.
Each of them was likely to give her good, if different, advice, but she
realised that of the three of them, Inspector Livingstone was the one she had
to speak to.

“I’m not sure there’s anything I can do to
get rid of the news crews for you, Mr Carver,” Donna said reluctantly. “I’ll
speak to the inspector immediately though, there might be something he can do.
Thanks for letting me know. I’m sorry you’re having this problem.” She ended
the call as quickly as she could, without being rude, and then resumed her
picture taking.

Once she had pictures of the smashed windows,
slashed tyres and the graffiti daubed vehicles, Donna made her way over to the
office. She let Leonard Dean know that she was finished and then made her way
to where she had parked her car. She didn’t like using her own car for work but
just then she didn’t have much choice, both the patrol cars belonging to the
station were out of action, following the events of that morning.

Less than ten minutes after leaving the
stables Donna was at the front door of Inspector Livingstone’ s house. She had
neither seen nor heard from her superior since she called him to report the
situation at the Davis farm and request backup. That was unusual. It was a rare
occasion when he failed to turn up at the station during regular office hours,
and she couldn’t imagine he would be avoiding the place without a very good
reason at such a time.

On the occasions that he didn’t come in, he
always called the officer on duty to make sure everything was alright. He
hadn’t even done that.

When there was no response to her knock after
more than a minute, she became worried. She couldn’t imagine what might be
wrong but after everything that had happened in the village that morning, her
mind leaped to the worst possible conclusions.

She knocked again, more urgently, and was
relieved when she heard the sound of approaching footsteps. The door opened
soon after and she found herself faced with her superior’s wife.

“Good afternoon, Mrs Livingstone,” Donna
greeted her. “Is the inspector in?”

“Yes,” Mary Livingstone said with a nod, “but
I’m afraid he isn’t up to seeing anyone at the moment. He collapsed this
morning,” she explained in response to the quizzical look directed at her. “Oh
it’s nothing too serious,” she said quickly. “The doctor thinks it’s just
shock, brought on by what happened at the Davis farm. He’s been ordered to bed
for some rest.”

Donna wasn’t surprised to hear that the
inspector had collapsed from shock and been ordered to bed. He’d had a heart
attack the previous Christmas, and since then there had been speculation among
her fellow officers as to how long it would be before he retired. There had
even been some debate as to whether he would retire voluntarily, or would be
made to retire on health grounds.

“Did you want to see him about anything
important?” Mary asked.

Noting the way her superior’s wife stood, her
hand on the door, ready to close it as soon as she could do so politely, Donna
shook her head. “No, I guess not. I’ll take care of it myself,” she said reluctantly,
not at all certain how she was supposed to do that.

“I’ll let Henry know you came by. I’m sure
he’ll call you to find out what has been going on just as soon as he feels
better.” She waited until the constable had turned away and then closed the
door.

Donna made her way down the path and out of
the garden, making sure to close the gate behind her. With the inspector
unavailable, she was down to two people to get help from. Fortunately they were
neighbours, so she didn’t have to decide right then which of the two she was
going to speak to – speak to first was more likely she thought.

As she drove through the village to her
grandmother’s and Jason Denton’s, Donna saw the two news vans that had set
themselves up in the car park of The Village Green. Neither van was parked all
that neatly, but that didn’t seem to be bothering the camera crews who were
bustling around them.

What the reporters she saw talking into the
cameras were saying, she didn’t know. She couldn’t help but feel relieved
however. In her opinion, as long as the reporters stayed in the pub car park,
they were limited in the trouble they could cause. Not that she wouldn’t have
preferred it if they’d never found their way to the village.

A last look in the rear view mirror, as she
was rounding the bend in the road, showed that one of the two reporters had
found someone, she couldn’t tell who in the brief glimpse she got, to
interview. She doubted it was anyone who could give detailed answers to
whatever questions were being asked, but in her opinion, rumours and gossip
were likely to cause more trouble than anything else.

It took just a couple of minutes more for her
to reach the trio of houses that sat together on the road leading out to the
Davis farm. As she approached she saw the aftermath of Michael Davis’ attempt
to evade justice that morning.

The teen’s Land Rover, and the police car she
had rammed it with in an effort to stop him getting away, remained in the
middle of the road. Beyond those two vehicles, the village’s second police car
was visible where it had crashed through the wall and into the ditch. No effort
had been made to move any of the crashed vehicles, and she couldn’t help
wondering how long it would be before one was.

Donna parked in her grandmother’s drive,
empty because she didn’t own a car, and got out. She was surprised when her
grandmother didn’t come out to greet her, but wasn’t bothered. Just then she
was more interested in talking to Jason.

She was sure her grandmother would have lots
of very sound advice for her, she just wasn’t certain how much of it she would
be able to put into use. Jason on the other hand, as a former detective
inspector, was likely to have advice that she could actually make use of. At
least she hoped that was going to prove the case.

With a glance at the living room window, to
see if her grandmother had seen her arrival, Donna made her way down the drive.
Quick steps led her to the house next door, where she knocked loudly.

“Donna,” Jason greeted the constable when he
saw who was at the door. “Are you here to see how Lucy is doing?” he asked as
he stepped back to let her enter.

Donna shook her head. “I’ll check on her
while I’m here, but actually I’m here to talk to you.”

“Privately?” he asked, shutting the door
behind the constable once she was through.

“Not necessarily, but it might be best if
Lucy doesn’t hear what’s going on,” Donna said, her voice low so her words
wouldn’t carry into the living room, just a short distance away.

“Fair enough, come into the kitchen, I’ll
make you a drink while we talk, you look as though you could do with one.”

A smile appeared on Donna’s lips. “Thanks, it
feels like hours since I last had something to drink. I think it has been
hours,” she said as she thought about it. The last time she could remember
having something to drink was that morning, before she left Jason’s house to go
to the station.

FIFTEEN

Justin Over knocked loudly and then stepped
back to wait for an answer.

He hadn’t had much luck with the Nelsons when
he tried to speak to them about the death of their daughter. He hadn’t even
made it through the door, let alone managed to ask them any questions; the
moment they heard he was a journalist they had slammed the door in his face.

He was used to that kind of reaction from
people, he had suffered it before. Crossing the Nelsons off the list on his
notepad he had moved on to the next name, the Pales.

“Good afternoon,” Justin stepped forward, his
hand outstretched, the moment the front door opened. “Donald Pale?” He queried,
in response to which he received a curt nod.

The man in the doorway was thirty-eight,
according to the information he had found on the internet but, like Patricia
Water and Kelly Nelson, he appeared years older than his physical age. The
strain of what he was going through was clearly wearing on him.

“Justin Over, I’m with the Evening Herald.”
It wasn’t exactly a lie; he worked primarily as a freelance journalist, but the
Herald was who he sold most of his stories to.

“What can I do for you?” Donald asked, his
tone hovering on the edge of politeness, though it held a strong note of
suspicion. He took the proffered hand automatically.

“I apologise for intruding on you during such
a painful time, Mr Pale, but I’d like to ask you and your wife some questions,
if you don’t mind.”

“Why? What do you want to talk to us for?”
Donald wanted to know.

Though the eyes of Danielle Pale’s father
were on him, Justin could tell that he wasn’t really seeing him. Donald Pale’s
eyes didn’t seem to be focused on much of anything. That didn’t surprise Justin
all that much; he couldn’t imagine how it must be to try and deal with the
death of a child, especially in such tragic circumstances. He had a job to do
however, and while he knew it wasn’t fair to disturb the man at such a time, he
also knew that if he didn’t get the story someone else would.

“I appreciate this is a difficult time for
you and your wife, but with the escape of Michael Davis, I think it important
that the public knows as much about what happened here in Greenville as possible.”

Justin wasn’t sure if Donald’s lack of
surprise at the news was because it had already reached him, or because he was
so emotionally numb that he couldn’t process it properly. It didn’t really
matter to him which was the case, only that the man didn’t demand an immediate
explanation.

“I’ve already spoken to Mrs Water about her
daughter, and I hope to speak to Mr Water later. Anything you can add to what
she told me may help to save more girls from suffering as your daughter did.”

Careful not to push things, as he feared he
had with Kelly Nelson, Justin silently gave Donald time to consider what he had
said.

After what seemed like an interminable wait,
Justin was relieved to see Donald step back and to one side. As he did so, the
grieving father opened the door wide, allowing Justin to enter.

“Thank you.” Justin stepped forward and into
the house. He stopped in the passage while the door was shut behind him and
then he followed Donald Pale into the living room.

He looked around as he was gestured to the
sofa; there was no sign of Karen Pale. “Is your wife at home?” he asked. The
look of the living room suggested that if she was, she hadn’t bothered with the
housework in the past week, if not longer.

A thin coating of dust was visible on top of
the television, the sideboard and everything else in the room. The carpet
looked un-vacuumed, and was stained, where someone had spilled a drink. Several
unwashed cups and plates sat on the coffee table in front of the sofa. In
addition to that, the curtains were half-pulled, giving the room a gloomy look.

It wasn’t the first time he had seen a room
looking as that one did. Having interviewed a number of people who had suffered
the agony of losing a family member under the most tragic of circumstances, he
knew it was a symptom of the depression that so often accompanied such a loss.

“My wife is ill,” Donald said, after
considering the best way to answer the question.

Justin nodded at that. “I’m sure what
happened to your daughter has been a tremendous shock to both of you, and an
enormous strain on your wife. I hope you’ll forgive me for this intrusion at
such a difficult time, but I’m sure you can appreciate that anything you’re
able to tell me may help prevent another parent suffering as you and your wife
are.”

“Sure,” Donald agreed with an unenthusiastic
nod of his head.

“I’ll try to get this over with as quickly as
possible, so you can get back to looking after your wife.” Justin turned on his
Dictaphone but left it in his pocket and took out his pad and pen and got ready
to get started. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to get started with the night your
daughter disappeared. It was a fortnight ago on Friday, wasn’t it?” he said
after double-checking the notes he had scribbled on the pad.

“Yes,” Donald nodded.

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”
Justin asked, his pen poised.

Donald dropped heavily into the armchair near
the window. “It was just the same as any other Friday, at least we thought so.
Danielle did her chores and then left to go and see, to go and see Michael,” he
said haltingly.

Justin saw it in his face; it hadn’t really
struck him until then, his daughter had been dating the person who raped and
murdered her. What had been done to her was bad enough, but for it to have
happened at the hands of someone he, his wife and his daughter had known and
trusted made it all the worse.

“Was your daughter alright before she left
the house? Did she show any signs of being concerned about going to see Michael
Davis? Had she ever shown any concerns about her boyfriend during the time they
were dating?”

“She was fine, perfectly happy,” Donald said,
a small smile crossed his face, lighting it up, as he recalled the last time he
had seen his daughter alive. “Just like always. Dani was the happiest of girls;
she didn’t seem anything but excited to be going to see Michael, they were
going to the cinema, she said. I don’t remember what they were supposed to be
seeing, but she’d been looking forward to it all week. She was always excited
when she was going to see Michael.” He shook his head sadly at that. “She was
good about doing her chores and her homework, she always got them done before
anything, but every chance she got she’d be off with him. If not Michael then
she was with her cousin.”

“You sound as though you disapprove of her
spending time with her cousin,” Justin remarked, noting the change in Donald’s
voice. Having found Gordon Pale on the internet, during his search of the names
he’d overheard in the pub, he could imagine why. “Surely it’s good that she was
happy to spend time with her family.”

“Normally I’d say yes, but when it comes to
Gordon, I wish Dani would have stayed away. Gordon’s a troublemaker, always has
been. His father disappeared when he was six, and his mother died in a car
crash when he was eleven. Karen and I have done our best to raise him, we
treated him as though he was our own son, but it’s done no good.” His
disapproval of his nephew’s behaviour brought some life to Donald’s face. “He
used to get into trouble all the time, both in and out of school. He spent half
his time at school either in detention or suspended for bullying, petty theft,
and just about anything else he could do to get himself in trouble. He was no
different out of school.

“The only person he’s ever behaved for is
Danielle. He’d do anything for her, even stay out of trouble, for a while at
least. We were always worried that he would end up influencing her, and that
she would become a troublemaker. We were so relieved when he moved out, we
thought that would be the end of it, and she wouldn’t have anything more to do
with him, especially when he went to jail shortly after.” He shook his head
sadly. “He only got six months for petty theft and was back in the village
almost before anyone could notice he was gone. He moved in with some friends,
petty criminals like him, and we tried to discourage Danielle from going round
there; it didn’t work though.

“No matter how hard we tried to keep her away
from her cousin, Danielle just kept telling us that we shouldn’t give up on
him. She was such a good person.” Tears, which had filled his eyes as he spoke
of his daughter, began to roll down his cheeks. “She told us that if his family
didn’t believe he could be a better person, be more than he had been, who
would. We were his family and it was our job to love him, and to try and help
him to change.”

“So after finishing her chores and her
homework, Danielle left to meet Michael?” Justin gently steered things back to
where he wanted them.

Donald nodded. “She said she was going to
drop in and see her cousin first though. She didn’t say why, I assumed she was
planning on spending some time with him over the weekend.”

Justin scribbled down everything Donald said
as quickly as he could, confident that if he missed anything it would be picked
up by the Dictaphone recording in his pocket. “What happened after that?” he
asked. “As I understand it, Danielle never made it home.”

“No, she didn’t. She was supposed to be home
before midnight,” Donald said. “That’s her curfew. Normally she calls when she’s
on the way home if she’s gone into town, but we didn’t think anything of it
when she didn’t. My wife went to bed about half ten, she’s never been one for
staying up late, while I watched the end of a movie and waited for Danielle to
get home.

“She hadn’t made it home by midnight, like
she was supposed to, so I called her. At least I tried to…”

Before he could finish what he was saying he
was interrupted.

“Donald.” A wan voice drew their attention to
the living room doorway. “Who is this?”

“Karen, what are you doing out of bed?”
Donald was on his feet almost before the woman could ask her question, and
across the room in an instant to take her into his arms. “You know what Doctor
Lamb said, you need to rest.”

If he hadn’t known that the woman in the
doorway was the wife of the man he had been speaking to, and the mother of
Danielle Pale, he would never have guessed. In a flannel dressing gown, with a
nightdress visible beneath it, Karen Pale looked as though she could have been
Donald Pale’s mother, or perhaps his grandmother, rather than his wife.

Patricia Water had let herself go following
the death of her daughter. Her appearance was nothing compared to Karen Pale’s
though. Karen’s hair hung lank around her face, her skin was oily, as though
she hadn’t washed since her daughter disappeared, and her dressing gown was
stained. Whatever she had been eating and drinking, and Justin didn’t suppose
it was much, she had spilled at least half of it.

Donald led his wife away from the living room
and up the stairs, taking her back to their bedroom. All the way there he spoke
soothingly to her.

It was almost ten minutes before Donald Pale
returned to the living room.

Justin used that time to take a look around.
Getting to his feet, he wandered around the room, examining the photographs
that sat on the mantelpiece, window ledge and a few other places.

There were numerous photographs, and the
subject of most of them was Danielle Pale. It was clear her parents had been
proud of her; she featured in three out of every four photographs he saw.

Some of the photos were family shots, showing
Donald, Karen and Danielle, with the occasional appearance of a boy a few years
older than Danielle. Justin assumed the boy was her cousin, Gordon. More than
half though were solo shots of Danielle, in various stages of her life, though.

It seemed to Justin as though Donald and
Karen had taken every opportunity they could to photograph their daughter.
There were a lot of pictures of her as a baby, but also pictures of her in
every phase of her life. In every single picture she was smiling, a genuine
smile that told Justin that Danielle had been a happy girl, just as her father
had described her.

“I’m sorry about that,” Donald apologised
when he returned. He sank once again into the armchair. “She hasn’t been right
since, since it all happened.” His voice broke for a moment but then he
swallowed and continued. “It was hard enough when Danielle was only missing,
but since, well, since she was found, Karen hasn’t been coping very well.
Neither have I, truth be told,” he admitted. “I’m sorry, where was I?” he asked
uncertainly.

“You tried to call Danielle after she didn’t
come home at midnight,” Justin supplied patiently.

“I’m sorry, you’ll have to forgive me,”
Donald said, his voice distant. “But with everything that’s happened I find it
difficult to focus.”

“It’s okay, I understand.”

Donald gave a brief smile of gratitude. “I
tried calling her when she was late, it’s not like her, but there was no
answer. That’s not like her either. Even if she can’t answer the phone straight
away, she always texts either me or her mother to let us know she’s alright,
and she calls just as soon as she can. There was nothing though, I tried again
after about a quarter of an hour, and then after half an hour.