The Winter Foundlings (24 page)

I fell into a restless sleep on the settee. Maybe I imagined it, but I thought I heard Tom’s footsteps again much later, but this time they were tapping past me to the door. I surfaced for a moment and looked for him, but the room was empty.

35

The urge to cry is overwhelming. Ella conjures memories of home to lull herself to sleep. She imagines walking in the park near her estate. Tomorrow Granddad will drive her to school and nothing will have changed: the teacher’s smile will be as warm as ever. Friends will sit at the same tables, voices swarming around her like bees. But when she wakes, the man has returned, his face twitching with tension. He perches on the edge of the bed and her backbone presses against the wall.

‘Did you miss me?’ he asks.

‘I always do.’

His fingers close around her wrist. ‘Why do you think you’re getting special treatment, princess?’

‘I don’t know.’ She struggles to sit upright, as his grip tightens.

‘Because you’re my favourite, of course. But he’s told me I’ve got to stick to the rules.’ The man stares at the ground and a few tears drop onto the grey concrete.

‘Maybe it’s time to break them.’

His head switches violently from side to side. ‘I can’t, Ella. I promised to obey him.’

He gives a long sigh then pulls her against his chest. His smell is sour as vinegar, but she can’t escape. He’s holding her so tightly she can hardly breathe.

36

I planned to tell Burns about my break-in the next morning, but there was no sign of him. Alan Nash was skulking in the corner of the incident room, and the discovery of the container on Orchard Row was keeping the rest of the team fully occupied. Tania strode towards me through the crowd, dressed in an immaculate pencil skirt and midnight-blue satin blouse, as though it was her duty to bring glamour to the investigation.

‘You’re flavour of the month.’ She gave a brief smile. ‘The tyre tracks at Orchard Row show that he drove his van into the site plenty of times. The lab’s doing tests now, but they think all four girls spent time in that container, and in an outbuilding. But there are no adult fingerprints so far.’

‘He wore gloves the whole time?’

‘It looks that way.’ She turned towards me, eyebrows raised. ‘What kind of freak leaves a kid in the freezing cold with nothing to eat?’

Tania was called away before I could reply, which was just as well, because there was no easy answer. Either the killer was psychotic, or so profoundly disturbed that a child’s suffering didn’t even register.

I spent the next few hours in the broom cupboard, trying to concentrate on my research, studying the centre’s drug regimen and going through case notes. When the phone rang at one o’clock, it was Burns, summoning me to the sixth floor.

I had a sinking feeling as I climbed the stairs. I could guess what lay in store. Burns was waiting on the landing with two junior detectives and a WPC. I could have told him about my break-in, but it was obviously the wrong time. He must have been working round the clock, five-o’clock shadow so well established that it looked like he’d abandoned his razor.

‘I need you to talk to Kinsella again,’ he said quietly. ‘He won’t come to the interview room, but he’ll see you in his cell.’

My spirits fell even further: Kinsella’s control of the investigation was growing stronger every day. The WPC handed me a listening device and I pinned it inside my collar.

‘He’ll only talk if you’re by yourself,’ Burns said. ‘But don’t worry, nothing can happen. We’re just a few feet away.’

His reassurance meant nothing when the glass security door slid back. This time the noise was even louder, screaming and catcalls emanating from every cell. The whole floor seemed to know about my visit. The swearing, wolf whistles and chanted curses were all for my benefit. Faces leered through the observation hatches as I passed down the corridor, frustration oozing through the walls. My heart pounded as I approached Kinsella’s cell, and I wished I’d worn different clothes. Suddenly my knee-length dress felt ridiculously short.

Kinsella was handcuffed to the metal chair in his cell. I made a rapid calculation. The chair legs were bolted to the floor, but he could still lunge at me. Two feet of clear air between us was the minimum I needed to keep me safe. I tried to ignore the fact that he was wearing a grey plaid shirt, identical to the ones my father used to wear. The cacophony from the other cells was audible, despite the thickness of the door. I perched on the edge of his bed and tried to look composed.

‘Forgive my surroundings, Alice,’ Kinsella murmured. ‘The unquiet souls never rest.’

‘Is that how you see yourself too?’

‘Of course. And you know what I mean, you’re unquiet yourself.’ The look on his face was a mixture of pity and frank sexual interest. Even though I knew what he was capable of, there was something so powerful in his gaze that it was hard not to respond.

‘Maybe you’d feel calmer if you told me about the killer. Why not get it off your chest?’

‘I’d rather discuss something of interest, Alice.’

‘Like what?’

‘You, of course. You still haven’t told me about your father.’

‘There’s not much to tell. He worked for the tax office, had a working-class chip on his shoulder, and he was an alcoholic. Most of the time he was so wrapped up in himself, no one else got a look-in.’

His lips parted in mock sympathy. ‘Frustrating, for a daddy’s girl like you.’

I forced myself to smile. ‘Thanks for leading me to Orchard Row. You were spot on, it was right at the centre of the map.’

‘Sometimes you can’t see the orchard for the trees.’ He looked amused. ‘What did you think of my friend’s old stamping ground?’

‘It’s hard to imagine anyone living there. Most of the houses have been pulled down. Why don’t you tell me his name?’

‘Like I said, it could be one of many. It might be a woman, not a man.’

‘You know exactly who he is.’

He rubbed his temple. ‘These conversations tire me. I can see you again tomorrow morning but, before you go, tell me, how is Alan Nash?’

‘The same as ever.’

‘A pompous, overbearing windbag, who lies through his teeth?’ His grin flicked on again. ‘Don’t let him upset you, Alice. I’m sure he’d love to put you down.’

‘Tell me something useful, Mr Kinsella. Or I won’t come back.’

‘You drive a hard bargain.’ He leant forwards in his chair, and I caught the sharp scent of his hair oil again, cloves mixed with underripe limes, as he hissed at me. ‘The next victim will be taken on Monday. And this time, he’ll put out her eyes.’

Kinsella’s warped smile lingered as I walked away, and I was so incensed that the catcalls from the cells didn’t bother me. Burns was standing on the other side of the security doors.

‘We’re pandering to him, Don,’ I said. ‘All he wants is attention.’

‘At least he gave us the next deadline.’

‘He said Orchard Row was the killer’s old stamping ground. Find out what that building was used for, then check every human being who went through its doors.’

I ripped off the listening device and dropped it into his outstretched palm.

*   *   *

I still felt embarrassed about snapping at Burns when I bumped into Judith later in the staff common room. Her mass of thin silver bracelets clinked as she nursed her mug of tea.

‘I heard about the girl in Edgemoor Woods. Isn’t that near your cottage?’ she said.

‘Right by it, and someone chucked a brick through my door last night for good measure.’

She looked horrified. ‘God, you poor thing. Come to mine later, I’ll cook you dinner.’

‘There’s no need. Lightning never strikes twice, does it?’ I wanted to reassure her, but the break-in felt like a warning. Even though I was determined not to be driven away, returning to the cottage frightened me.

‘If you won’t visit me, I’ll come to yours.’

I considered putting up a fight, but Judith was wearing a look of fixed determination. I was beginning to realise that she had an iron will, despite her dreamy appearance. I had no choice but to give in gracefully.

It was dark by the time I got back to my cottage. The porch light showed that the glazier had replaced the damage with a pristine piece of security glass, then posted the extortionate bill through the door. I went back outside, tracing the edge of the house gingerly, my nerves still jangling. Last night’s adventure had left me with a sense of unease, as though someone might still be watching me. I inspected the ground carefully with my torch, but there were no fresh prints and my confidence revived. There had been so much fear in the past, I was determined not to let it dominate my life again.

Judith’s car arrived just after seven and when I pulled the door open she was carrying bags from the Chinese takeaway.

‘You didn’t need to bring supplies.’

‘It’s a bribe.’ She looked over her shoulder. ‘I’ve got someone with me.’

Garfield was unfolding himself from the passenger seat of her car, and I raised my hand in greeting. I couldn’t help pitying them. So far I’d never fallen for a married man, and his act of betrayal clearly troubled him. Judith trailed after me into the kitchen.

‘This place is a time capsule,’ she said, gaping at the brown tiles and patterned lino. ‘Pure Seventies kitsch.’

‘It’s peaceful, though. No noise, except the owls.’

‘Doesn’t the isolation bother you?’

‘Only when someone breaks down my door.’

Most days the silence still felt like a blessing. The city’s roar is a constant when you live in London. You fall asleep to the chatter of cars, and by morning it’s overwhelming. Traffic screams in your face when you step outside. Sometimes it’s invigorating, but on a bad day you feel like an actor, listening to an audience yell their disapproval.

We found Garfield watching the fire in the living room. His face was so drawn that I wondered if the combined stress of concealing his affair and daily contact with Kinsella was pushing him to the edge. But as soon as we began to eat, I stopped worrying about him. Chinese food has always been a vice of mine. The mix of sugar and additives always gets me. Who cares if it triggers a sodium headache next morning? The flavours make it all worthwhile.

‘How did you end up at Northwood, Garfield?’ I asked.

He gave a half-hearted grin. ‘I must have committed a crime in a former life.’

‘Come on, I’m in the mood for a life story.’

He gave a sheepish laugh. ‘I grew up in Tottenham, on a rough estate. My school pushed me to become a doctor, but I missed the mark and ended up nursing instead. Northwood pays better than most hospitals, so I found a job, got married, had kids. Now there’s no going back.’

‘You’d prefer to live in London?’

His reply was instant. ‘I’d go tomorrow, if I could.’

‘Not without me, I hope.’ Judith’s face held a mixture of amusement and concern.

The meal gave me time to observe their relationship. The chemistry between couples always fascinates me: it’s so fragile, capable of tipping out of control at any moment. Judith was doing most of the legwork, but Garfield’s eyes rarely strayed from her face. His attention only flickered in my direction when I mentioned that I’d be interviewing Kinsella again in the morning.

‘Is he really that choosy about who he speaks to?’ I asked.

Judith put down her fork. ‘Absolutely. He’s ignored me for years.’

‘But he trusts you, doesn’t he, Garfield? I saw you talking outside the Campbell Building.’

His shoulder twitched as though I’d struck him, and the bitterness in his tone surprised me. ‘Louis was delivering one of his monologues. I couldn’t walk away.’

‘But you wanted to?’

‘God, yes. I normally filter them out; most of what he says is poison.’

‘What was he telling you?’

‘He was moaning about Alan Nash. He’s not his biggest fan.’

‘Kinsella must be feeling pretty smug right now. He’s holding all the cards.’

Judith’s eyes fixed on me. ‘Ask about his wife. It’s the one thing he can’t stand.’

The conversation switched to lighter topics after that, and I felt grateful that they’d sacrificed a whole evening to keep me company. It interested me that Garfield seemed addicted to Judith’s calmness; she used touch to reassure him constantly, bangles clattering as her hand settled on his arm. At midnight I insisted that they left. Judith was reluctant to go, but I could see how eager Garfield was to have her to himself.

‘I’ll be fine,’ I said. ‘The village is crawling with police.’

After they’d gone I went upstairs to draw the curtains, and Judith’s car was still parked outside. The moonlight was so strong I could see her staring into Garfield’s eyes, cupping his face in her hands. He was frozen, as if her voice had placed him completely under her control. It passed through my head that the pair had spent more time with Kinsella than anyone else at the Laurels. My flicker of suspicion died out immediately; it was impossible to believe they could harm anyone. I glanced down at the car again, but it was such a private moment that I drew the curtains and walked away. Moonlight was pouring into the back bedroom, a white glow hovering above Edgemoor Woods. But when I looked more closely, my eyes were playing tricks on me. The SOCOs must still be guarding the clearing where Amita’s body had been found. Arc lights had illuminated the sky like a stadium at night, bright enough to cancel out the stars.

37

It’s dawn when the door slams again, light ebbing through the tiny window. Ella’s head swims, but she’s stopped feeling afraid. Right now all she feels is rage. The man calls her princess, then refuses to give her food. It takes all her energy to smile when he pushes open the door, but she can see that he’s on edge. His lips are set in a grimace, revealing his sharp white teeth.

‘We can’t go on like this, princess. We need to think of a way out.’ His hands tap an urgent rhythm against his sides.

‘Maybe we could run away.’

The man’s hands freeze. ‘You think so?’

‘That’s a way out, isn’t it?’

‘You’re right, Ella. Soon I’ll have to leave him behind.’ A cloud of fear crosses his face.

‘We’ve got each other, haven’t we?’