Two Evils: A DI Charlotte Savage Novel (30 page)

‘The night …?’ Once more, Parker’s face dropped. Savage thought she saw a shiver pass through him.

‘August twenty-sixth, 1988. You remember the day?’

‘Not the day. Only the night.’

Savage glanced at Calter. The DC shrugged.

‘So the night,’ Savage continued. ‘Jason and Liam escaped, right? Why did they want to do that?’

Silence. And then Parker let out a long sigh and leant back in the chair. The wood creaked in response. He sat there, shrunken, as if when he’d breathed out half his spirit had been expelled at the same time as the air.

‘Excuse me a moment.’ Parker pushed himself up from the chair and stumbled from the room. He returned a few moments later with a glass of water and a foil strip of pills. ‘Sorry, I’ve got the most awful headache. Must be the stress.’

‘Brenden?’ Savage said. ‘You were telling us why Jason and Liam wanted to run away.’

‘Yes.’ Parker popped three pills from the foil and washed them down. He took several more gulps of water and put the glass on the table. ‘Father was a bully. Bullies seek positions where they can gain easy power. Woodland Heights was just such a place.’

‘Did he beat you?’ Savage shifted her position, moving a little closer to Parker. ‘Did he beat the boys?’

‘Beat us?’ Parker met Savage’s eyes and then Calter’s. Then he hung his head low and stared at the floor. ‘Oh, he did so much more than simply beat us. He allowed things to happen.’

‘To Jason and Liam?’

‘To all the boys. Not me, of course, I wasn’t a victim of abuse. There was this man. He was in the government. He … he …’

‘OK.’ Savage nodded. She didn’t want to go into the finer details. Not here. That would be for specialist officers who could take things slowly and get any accusations properly recorded. Right now she needed to know about Jason and Liam. ‘August twenty-sixth. You were telling us what happened?’

‘Was I?’ Parker glanced at Savage and then turned his head to the window. The back garden had a neat little lawn, a large metal shed up against the rear fence. ‘They’d borrowed tools, Jason and Liam. From Elijah Samuel’s store shed. I didn’t know at the time, but they’d hidden the tools in the cave down at Soar Mill Cove so they could build a boat. On the night, Samuel let them out through the front door and they made, their way to the cove. I found they’d gone and followed them. On the beach I …’

Parker stopped and paled visibly, like a TV picture with the colour reduced to near zero. His hand reached across the glass table and touched the teapot, as if he was trying to draw some comfort from the warmth of the metal.

‘Brenden?’ Calter. Doing her friendly act. ‘Tell me what happened.’

‘I had an argument with Liam.’ Parker came out with the line straightaway, but then he paused for a few moments, as if he was struggling to think of what to say. Finally, he continued. ‘In the confusion, I slashed him on the hand with my pocketknife. Then Jason became involved and I cut him too. Liam disappeared into the darkness but Jason sat on the sand, bleeding from a gash on both palms. I begged him to stay put and ran back to the home. When I got there, I told Father. He sent me to my room and said he’d deal with it.’

Calter leant forward. ‘And?’

‘He …’ Parker collapsed, his upper body folding until his head rested on his knees. He uttered a huge sob. ‘He …’

‘It’s OK,’ Savage said, taking over once more. She tried to contain her excitement. They were so close now. So close to discovering the truth which had remained hidden for near on thirty years. She shifted her position, moving a little closer to Parker, and then spoke in not much more than a whisper. ‘You can tell us.’

‘He returned a few hours later and told me Jason was dead.’ Parker turned his head and peered out from his hands like a child would. ‘Father had gone down to the beach and found him. He’d died by the time Father got there. I’d killed him. Murdered him. Father said I’d go to prison for a hundred years if anybody found out.’

Parker covered his face again and hunched down. Savage glanced across at Calter. The DC nodded, plainly believing the veracity of Parker’s story. Savage wasn’t so sure. According to Nesbit, Jason Caldwell had likely died from a frenzied knife attack and the weapon had had a long blade. There was no way a pocketknife could have caused the marks Savage had seen on Caldwell’s skeleton.

‘So you didn’t tell anyone?’ Savage said.

‘I wanted to.’ The face peered out again. ‘I wanted to admit the crime. I loved Jason, you see? But Father said if I did own up, then the home would close down. All the boys would be thrown into an adult prison.’

‘And you believed that?’

‘Yes. He told me I wasn’t to be selfish. God, he said, knew what I’d done. There was no need to involve the police.’

‘God?’

‘Yes.’ Parker emerged from behind his hands and sat up. He rubbed his eyes. ‘My father is a very religious man. He thinks God alone has the authority to punish those who sin. He told me I must live with my sin until the day God decided to act.’

‘I’m sorry to ask, Brenden, but what happened to Jason’s body?’

‘Father and Elijah Samuel took the body somewhere and hid it. A couple of months later they brought Jason back and buried him in the cellar. They laid a new concrete floor on top. Of course, the cellar had already been thoroughly searched by then, but I knew.’

‘You wrote the date in the concrete.’

‘Yes. While it was still wet.’

Savage nodded. Brenden’s story was tragic. A thirteen-year-old boy forced to live with the guilt of a crime that may have been an accident. The real offender here was Frank Parker. He’d almost certainly concealed Jason’s death to prevent attention being drawn to the home, to protect the minister. And perhaps he’d done more than just that. If Jason’s injuries were as superficial as Brenden had described and Nesbit’s assessment was correct, then it was possible Parker Senior had gone down to the beach and murdered Jason Caldwell in cold blood.

Savage sat in silence for a moment. Then she sighed inwardly. She had one last line of enquiry to deal with.

‘Brenden, you may or may not be aware that two boys went missing last week. Their names are Jason and Liam. The boy named Liam is now dead.’

‘Oh no! You mean …’ Parker faltered. He tried to speak, his voice overcome with emotion. ‘Are you saying … it can’t be … my God!’

‘The person or persons sent the police two letters which called on us to investigate the disappearance of the original Jason and Liam. Do you think your father could be involved in some way?’

‘But why?’

‘Your father is – how shall I put this? – a little crazy. Suppose he’s re-enacting what happened, trying to get history to repeat itself. He’s chosen these new boys as part of a weird game. Do you think that’s possible?’

‘I couldn’t say.’ Parker shook his head. His eyes filled with moisture again and he wiped away a tear. He stifled a gulp. ‘No, I really couldn’t say.’

Savage raised a hand. She didn’t need to hear any more. Frank Parker had at the very least conspired to prevent the burial of a body, but Savage hoped to get him for much more and they had plenty enough to arrest him on suspicion of murder. The best thing they could do now was get Brenden into the station and make this official. They needed officers who knew how to care for victims of sexual abuse and violence, who could take Brenden back to the awful days of his childhood without causing any more damage.

‘Thank you, Brenden,’ Savage said. ‘You’ve been very helpful in what must be difficult circumstances.’

‘You’re not arresting me then?’ Parker raised his head, visibly less cowed. ‘For murder?’

‘No.’ Savage glanced at Calter. The DC shrugged her shoulders in agreement. Theoretically they could bring Parker in and charge him, but he wasn’t the villain here and there was no way Savage wanted to cause the man any more suffering. She looked back at Parker. He’d brightened, but his demeanour was still that of a frightened child. ‘If what you’ve told us is true, then it’s possible you may face some charge, but given your age at the time I don’t think that’s likely. We’ll need to get the full story as soon as possible though, so I’m going to arrange for a couple of specialist officers to visit this afternoon and take a statement. Would that be OK?’

Parker nodded, but appeared nervous once more. Savage told him he needn’t worry, there’d be support for him throughout the process. He had nothing to fear from his father any more.

Outside, Savage and Calter stood by their car for a moment. The suburban estate was the epitome of normal. A mother pushed a baby in a buggy while a toddler trotted along beside her. Three doors up, a Tesco delivery driver was unloading the crates from his van while chatting to an elderly woman. Who could possibly know that inside number seventeen was a man who’d been part of such an appalling set of events?

‘I could do with a coffee and a bite to eat, ma’am,’ Calter said. ‘Shall we?’

Savage turned back to the house, thinking of Parker alone in there with his memories. Why had he kept quiet for so long? Was it simply fear? Maybe there was a misguided sense of loyalty. Abusers often cast a spell over their victims and the situation was only compounded when there was a familial relationship. Brenden’s father had dominated life at the home and dominated his son. He’d made the boy believe he was responsible for the death of Jason Caldwell. Now it was time for him to pay.

‘Sorry, Jane.’ Savage shook her head. ‘We’ve got unfinished business with Frank Parker.’

Finding Ned Stone, Riley thought, was going to be easier said than done. The guy was on the radar for the
Lacuna
case involving at least one child killing, and yet, so far, there’d been no sign of the man. Collier was philosophical about the lack of progress.

‘He’ll turn up,’ Collier said as he studied the EvoFIT image. ‘Jason’s mother gave us the names of a few of Stone’s mates and we’ve had officers round to visit them on several occasions. Nothing yet, but it’s only a matter of time.’

‘Right.’ Riley nodded. He left Enders to get a list of Stone’s friends from Collier and went out into the corridor.

Police work could be frustrating, especially when waiting for a known suspect to make an appearance. But Collier was right, short of sealing off the city and conducting a street-by-street, house-by-house search, there was little they could do.

Or was there?

Riley reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone. He scrolled through his contacts until he came to a number labelled ‘Car repairs’. He pressed ‘Call’ and a few seconds later someone answered.

‘Darius,’ a gruff voice said. ‘How’s life?’

The voice belonged to Kenny Fallon. The city’s number- one gangster. A man who Riley had done business with before, as had DI Savage and DI Davies. Dealing with Fallon was going way over a line DSupt Hardin had drawn, a line, which if crossed, meant the end of your police career and quite possibly a prison sentence to boot.

‘Kenny,’ Riley said. ‘I need a favour.’

At the other end of the line, Fallon chuckled. ‘You know I’d do anything to help the police. Nothing like turkeys voting for Christmas, is it?’

‘It’s not criminal, not even dodgy.’

‘Well, that’s all right then. Wouldn’t want to do anything
illegal
, would I? Not me. I’m one hundred per cent legit.’

‘I need to find somebody urgently.’

‘Really?’ More laughter. ‘I thought you were shacked up with that tasty bird who works with those kids on the Swilly? She’s moved in with you, hasn’t she? You’ll be playing happy families soon, mark my words.’

‘Not a woman, a bloke.’ Riley cursed to himself as Fallon began to wind him up. Swinging both ways now, was he? Uncle Kenny didn’t mind, Fallon assured him, but that was no way to treat the lovely Julie.

Fallon, it appeared, knew all about him and his personal life, but that wasn’t surprising. Davies had told Riley that if a dog so much as cocked his leg outside of one of Fallon’s clubs the man would know. He had a finger in every pie in the city and was on first-name terms with half a dozen police officers, several councillors and at least one MP. The dangers of dealing with him were obvious. He knew everything about you and, Riley suspected, with one word could bring your world crashing down.

‘Ned Stone,’ Riley said. ‘We’ve marked his card as being involved in the murder of the vicar. We also want to question him about the death of Liam Clough and the disappearance of Jason Hobb.’

‘And you can’t find him, is that it?’ Fallon tutted. ‘You need the help of an upstanding member of the public.’

‘He’s a case, Kenny. You’ll have heard what happened to Tim Benedict. As for the lads …’

‘Not too fussed about the vicar, but the boys? He’s well out of order there.’

‘So you’ll see what you can do?’

‘I’ll sort him, Darius. Don’t you fret.’

‘We need to question him, Kenny. No violence. I just need to know where he is, right?’

Riley waited for a reply, but none was forthcoming.

‘Kenny?’ Collier had just stepped out into the corridor, so Riley turned away and faced the wall. ‘Kenny?’

Then he hung up.

As a tool, the belt buckle was pretty ineffectual, but it was all Jason had. He tapped around the sides of the box until he found a hollow sound on one wall, reasoning there might be some sort of void there. If the box was buried underground, he didn’t want to break through the roof and cause a cave-in. Better to cut through on one side and then dig up from there.

At first he tried scraping away at the wood to see if he could make some kind of hole, but that didn’t work. Next he began to score lines in a rectangle shape, the idea being to gradually wear through the wood until he could cut out a panel. Once the panel was removed he’d be able to dig his way sideways and then up.

The work was slow and tedious. He kept the torch off most of the time, only allowing himself a few seconds’ light every now and then so he could check on his progress. After several hours he’d scored a deep gash on all sides of the rectangle but was still not through the wall. He worked on until tiredness overcame him. He slept fitfully for a while and then consumed another chocolate bar. With renewed energy he started again and after a while he felt the point of the buckle slip through the wood. He flicked the torch on and through the slit he’d made he saw soil.