Justice for the Damned (40 page)

Jim removed his oxygen mask and indicated the IV needle. ‘Take this out of me.’

‘You really shouldn’t be moving around in your condition,’ cautioned the paramedic.

‘I shouldn’t do a lot of things, but I do them anyway,’ said Jim with a meaningful glance at Garrett.

He rose from the stretcher and stood swaying. Garrett caught hold of him and helped him from the ambulance. Jim raised a hand to shield his eyes. Southview’s grounds were lit by halogen spotlights that seemed painfully bright after the murkiness of the farm. The place was a buzz of familiar activity. Officers with corpse dogs were sweeping the grounds. Forensic bods carrying bagged and tagged evidence were coming and going between the house and a white tent on the lawn.

‘We found Mabel Forester dead in the house,’ explained Garrett. ‘She’d been decapitated. Her head was on the mantelpiece.’

Jim guessed at once that Tyler wasn’t behind Mabel Forester’s murder. The decapitation and display of her head would have served no purpose to him. No, her death was about humiliation, it was about her son getting back at her for any abuses, real or imagined, that she’d perpetrated against him.

Drawing looks that ranged from curiosity and concern to respect and admiration, Jim climbed the doorsteps. Garrett took two pairs of latex gloves from a box on the top step. As they pulled them on, the broad-shouldered, black-suited figure of DCS Knight stepped out the door. The Chief Superintendent’s rugged strong features were set into a grim expression beneath his cap. Deep lines were etched around his pale-grey eyes. They grew deeper as he saw Jim. ‘DI Monahan, I was led to believe you were on your way to hospital.’

‘He is, sir,’ said Garrett.

‘Then what’s he doing here?’

‘Helping with inquiries.’

DCS Knight’s voice took on a tone of rebuke. ‘I must say I’m surprised at you, John. Not only is this man clearly not in any fit state to be here, but he’s suspected of engaging in an illegal investigation. What makes you think—’

The DCS broke off as Jim stepped past him into the house. At the far end of the hallway, forensic officers were photographing blood spatters. They glanced around as DCS Knight shouted, ‘Inspector Monahan, what the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Ignoring him, Jim started up the stairs.

‘Get back here,’ thundered DCS Knight. ‘That’s an order!’

Fuck your orders
, thought Jim. But he didn’t say the words. He wanted to keep every bit of breath he had for the climb.

‘Jim, this isn’t the way to go about this,’ put in Garrett.

Jim concentrated on hauling the leaden weights of his feet up the stairs as fast as possible. He glanced over his shoulder at the sound of following footsteps. DCS Knight was hurrying after him, closely followed by Garrett. There was a chair at the top of the stairs. Jim’s body pleaded with him to rest on it. Instead, he picked it up and threw it at his pursuers. DCS Knight caught it, but fell backwards against Garrett, who struggled in turn to hold him upright.

Jim quickly took his bearings. Straight ahead an open door led onto a bedroom. To his left, more doors led onto more rooms, lining a long, high-ceilinged landing. To his right, at the far end of the landing, there was another flight of stairs, narrower and steeper than the one he’d just ascended. He hastened towards it. At the foot of the stairs, there was a door with a key in it. He closed and locked the door behind himself. Groping around in darkness, he found a light switch. As he climbed the stairs, a hammering started up on the door and DCS Knight’s voice rang out. ‘I’ll have you up on charges for this, Monahan!’

At the top of the stairs was a large attic, illuminated by the pale glow of a floodlight bleeding through a round window. Breathlessly picking his way around jumbles of dusty boxes and sheeted furniture, Jim approached the window. Sweat rolling down his face, he dropped to his knees and began to examine the floorboards. A loud bang from below told him that someone was attempting to break the door down. The door was old and heavy with a solid lock. It would withstand a good few shoulder charges. Still, he didn’t have much time. His fingers ran over the head of a nail on one floorboard, before coming to a halt on the hole where a nail was missing from its neighbour. There was another bang, this time accompanied by the sharp sound of splintering wood. With his fingernails, he prised up the floorboard. And there it was. Herbert’s book. It was only a little thing. But what it contained was big enough to kill for.

Jim snatched it up. His gaze skimmed over the names listed on its pages. Some he didn’t recognise –
Thomas Villiers. Rupert Hartwell.
And some he recognised only too well –
Stephen Baxley, Henry Reeve, Charles Knight…

Jim’s eyes pinched into glinting bullets. There were names he wouldn’t have been all that surprised to find in the book, but DCS Knight’s wasn’t one of them. He’d never particularly liked the guy, but he’d respected him. Other officers – Doug Brody and Stan Lockwood included – had been fiercely loyal to him back when he had Garrett’s job. Knight had never hidden the fact that his ambitions stretched beyond CID. But he also genuinely seemed to care about the officers serving under him. And that drove the needle of betrayal in deep.

Jim twisted towards the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Scott Greenwood was first into the attic, followed by Garrett. ‘This is exactly what I was talking about, Jim,’ snapped Garrett. ‘You always have to make everything so bloody—’ He broke off as Jim held up the book.

‘You need to take a look at this.’

Jim handed the book to Garrett. The DCI’s anger swiftly drained away, leaving shock and astonishment in its wake. ‘Is this what I think it is?’

‘Yes. Where’s DCS Knight?’

‘He left me to deal with you.’ Garrett turned to Scott Greenwood. ‘Find the DCS. Let me know the instant you locate him. And this is very important. Do not, under any circumstances, allow him to leave without seeing me. Even if you have to physically restrain him. Do I make myself clear?’

Scott’s eyebrows drew together. ‘But, sir—’

‘Don’t question me,’ snapped Garrett. ‘Just do it. Fast.’

‘Yes, sir.’

As Scott hurried from the room, Jim lowered himself onto a box. Garrett’s eyes returned to the book as if double-checking that they’d read correctly. ‘Fucking hell,’ he murmured. ‘This is… it’s a…’ He trailed off, unable to find the words to describe what it was. He turned a sharp gaze on Jim. ‘Did you suspect him?’

‘No… Well, maybe the thought passed through my mind. But that’s all it was, a passing thought.’

‘Do you think he knew what Forester was doing in those woods?’

‘I don’t know.’ Jim hoped not, because if Knight knew about Forester, surely he also knew about Bryan Reynolds. Not that anyone would believe him now if he told them. But he could still do more than enough damage to derail the plan Jim had in mind.

Garrett’s phone rang. He had it against his ear in the space of a breath. His features jerked into a frown. ‘What do you mean, his car’s gone?’ There was the briefest of pauses, then, ‘In that case, I want every officer we can spare out there searching for him.’

‘They should be advised that he’s to be considered armed and extremely dangerous,’ put in Jim.

Garrett eyed him doubtfully, as if he couldn’t get his brain around the idea. With a nervous lick of his lips, he repeated into the phone what Jim had said. He hung up, pressing his fingers to his forehead. ‘Well that’s it… It’s out there now.’

Jim indicated the book. ‘He must have known, or at least guessed, Forester had that.’

‘And if he knew about that, who knows what else he was aware of.’ Garrett heaved a breath. ‘I need to call the Chief Constable.’

‘What are you going to say to him?’

‘I don’t know, exactly.’

‘You should do. Remember, what happens now, what you do right this moment, could define your whole career.’

Garrett gave Jim a narrow look. ‘Alright then, let’s hear it.’

Jim laid it all out. How he came to suspect Edward Forester was involved in the sexual abuse of Mark Baxley and Grace Kirby. How he tricked him into confirming those suspicions. How he tracked him down to Southview. And how he came to learn the true, and truly awful, extent of Forester’s crimes. He was careful to make no mention of Bryan Reynolds.

‘And how does this help me?’ asked Garrett. ‘After all, I knew nothing about your investigation.’

‘Yes you did. You were fully aware of it. In fact, it was your idea. You kept it secret because of your suspicions about Forester’s connections to officers within the police department.’

‘And how did these suspicions arise?’

‘Well, for starters DCS Knight vouched for Doctor Henry Reeve. Then there’s Reece Geary.’

‘Ah yes, DI Geary, how does he fit into this scenario?’

‘That’s up to you. From the little he’s told me, Reece became suspicious of Doug Brody after learning he was involved with Liam Collins. We can use his story to give more weight to ours.’

‘Did he know about Inspector Brody’s involvement with Edward Forester?’

‘Not as far as I know.’

Garrett’s gaze dropped in thought. After a moment, he looked at Jim, uncertainty still glimmering in his eyes. ‘You’re playing me, I can tell. And I don’t like to be played.’

‘I’m handing you your career on a plate. Think about it, they’re going to need someone to replace Knight. And who better than the man who exposed him for what he is?’

‘And what do you want out of this?’

‘I want out. Early release.’ A sardonic smile traced Jim’s lips. ‘You promoted and me gone. That’s two prizes for the price of one.’

Garrett’s eyes remained narrow, but the uncertainty left them. ‘I know there’s a lot you haven’t told me.’

Jim made no attempt to deny it. Garrett might not have been much of a detective, but he was no fool.

‘And frankly, I think it’d be best for both of us if it stays that way,’ continued Garrett. With a shake of his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was doing, he held out his hand. Jim shook it. Both men’s palms were clammy with the thought of what the future held.

Garrett’s phone rang again. He put it to his ear, and his features grew tense. ‘They’ve located Knight’s car,’ he said to Jim. ‘The helicopter’s tracking it. He’s heading towards Ashford in the Water.’

‘Doesn’t he live out that way?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then someone should contact his wife. We don’t want another Stephen Baxley type situation on our hands.’

Garrett winced at the possibility of finding himself faced with yet another murder. ‘Have you got your phone?’

Jim shook his head. ‘Stan Lockwood took it.’

‘I’m putting you on to Jim Monahan,’ Garrett said into his phone. He handed it to Jim and rushed off in search of another phone.

The familiar voice of Scott Greenwood came down the line. ‘DCS Knight’s turned onto Ashford Lane.’

Jim knew Ashford Lane from days spent in the Peak District with Margaret. It was a narrow road that climbed between grassy fields to Monsal Head, a popular beauty spot with sweeping views of the Monsal Dale. ‘How far away from him are you?’

‘A couple of miles.’

Scott gave a continuous commentary on Knight’s progress. His voice jumped suddenly. ‘He’s pulled over at Monsal Head. He’s out of his car. He’s running towards the viaduct.’

Jim tried to summon up a mental picture of the viaduct. He hadn’t been there in nearly twenty years, but he could still remember its stone arches that towered at least twenty metres above a gentle bend in the River Wye.

‘What the hell’s he doing?’ wondered Scott.

Jim made no reply, though he knew the answer in the pit of his stomach.

Scott’s voice spiked again. ‘He’s climbing the bridge’s railings. Oh Christ, he’s jumped! He’s jumped!’

Lowering the phone, Jim rose and made his way downstairs. His body felt like waterlogged wood, but his heart felt light. Lighter than it had done in years. An air of shock hung over the crime scene. People were standing around looking at each other as if unsure what to do.

‘Did you hear?’ exclaimed Garret, rushing towards Jim.

‘Yes.’ Jim climbed into the ambulance, motioning for the paramedics to get going.

‘I’ll keep you updated on what happens with Knight,’ said Garrett.

Jim nodded, but it came to him suddenly that he wasn’t interested what happened with Knight. It was enough for him to know that the bastard was finished. Along with all the other bastards in Herbert Winstanley’s little black book. Lying down on the stretcher, he closed his eyes and released a breath that seemed to come from the core of his being.

One by one the speakers made their way to the lectern at the front of the cathedral and delivered their eulogies to the packed pews. To one side of the lectern, facing down the central isle, was a coffin draped with a black cloth embroidered with the South Yorkshire Police insignia. Half the cathedral was given over to police in full regalia. The other half was filled with the deceased’s family and friends. Midway down this side at the end of a pew sat Mark Baxley. The cuts and bruises on his face had almost completely faded. But his right arm was still in a sling. And his eyes were still shadowed with the pain of his own loss. At the front, flanked by their father and grandparents, sat two young children, a boy and a girl. Soft little sobs shook the girl’s body. The boy was silent and blank-faced, too young to fully grasp what was happening.

Jim’s gaze kept straying to the children. Noah and Lilly. He hadn’t been able to remember their names when Amy was alive. But now that she was dead, he would never forget them. Once again, the question he’d asked Garrett echoed in his thoughts.
Do you think if someone does something good, it balances out the bad they do?
He knew the answer now. There was no balancing out good and bad. There was only living with your mistakes. His head dropped, weighed down by the knowledge. He closed his eyes, listening to the words coming from the lectern. He’d been asked to give one of the eulogies. But he’d declined. It was hard enough to hear his colleagues talk about Amy – about her gentle but strong character, her dedication to her job, her compassion, her willingness to make the ultimate sacrifice. It was almost more than he could bear to hear Amy’s widowed husband talk about the loving wife and mother she’d been.