Witness the Dead (30 page)

The suggestion stumped him a bit. He wasn’t exactly used to asking people about themselves and it was a long time since he’d had the chance to ask Chloe’s mother anything at all.

‘Okay, um, why do you like your course?’

Chloe laughed. ‘Good question, Papa. I like it because I’m into words and expressing myself and I’m fascinated by how other people are able to do it so well in books, plays and films. I’m interested in the world, I guess. And the journalism . . . well it sounds kinda corny but I believe in truth and justice. Actually, it sounds
very
corny.’

‘Doesn’t sound corny at all. If you don’t believe in truth and justice at your age then you never will. Although how much of that you will find in journalism is anyone’s guess.’

‘So cynical, Papa.’

‘Yeah. And if I don’t get to be cynical at my age then I never will.’

‘True enough. Okay, ask me something else.’

‘Boyfriend?’

‘Oh, killer question right out of the box. No, not at the moment. I had been seeing someone but it ended a couple of months ago. Actually, my mum didn’t even know about him. There you go, Papa, you know something she doesn’t.’

An answer to that sprang to mind, but he left it unsaid and went for the banal instead.

‘What kind of movies do you like?’

‘Really? It’s like one of those pop quizzes you get in celeb magazines. Next you’ll be asking me what my favourite colour is or whether I’m in Team Edward or Team Jacob.’

‘What?’

‘It’s a
Twilight
thing. And I don’t like those films, before you ask. I like comedies, preferably intelligent ones. Action thrillers, too. None of that chick-flick stuff. I like Italian food, maybe Chinese if I’m in the mood. I prefer cats to dogs. I like clubbing. Ed Sheeran, Emeli Sandé and Take That but don’t tell anyone. My favourite colour is blue. Usually. Sometimes I spend all day in my pyjamas and I still have a doll from when I was about three. And I cannot stand beetroot. Yuk.’

She twisted her mouth over to one side in thought but shrugged, not thinking of anything else. ‘I think that covers the vox-pop stuff. Did I miss anything?’

‘Um . . . no.’

‘Okay. My turn. Why do you and Mum not talk to each other?’

He almost stopped in his tracks but forced himself on again mid-stride, wishing that he’d never started this whole question nonsense in the first place. As he struggled for an answer, they both felt the first drops of rain splashing down on them through the overhanging branches of the trees. They looked up and saw the clouds, dark and threatening overhead. Even as they stared up, the drops became heavier and fell more quickly. They looked at each other and came up with the same response.

‘Kibble Palace. Run.’

‘I’ll run as fast as I can but you go on without me if you want.’

‘No way, Papa, We’re in this together. But hurry!’

They hustled back along the path, the Kibble’s domes in sight but the rain splattering down. He laughed and she giggled as they ran.

Chloe reached the door of the Palace first, pulling it back wide, and they both dashed inside, shaking themselves dry and immediately feeling the blast of warmth from the giant glasshouse.

She was looking around wide-eyed and Danny couldn’t resist laughing. ‘You never been in here before?’

‘I think I was, when I was a kid, but I don’t really remember it. It’s incredible. It’s like a jungle in here.’

The Kibble was a forest of ferns, every shade of green under the sun, and many of them reaching as high as the Palace’s large domed roof. Some had thick, prickly-looking trunks, the fronds springing improbably from the top of them. Others were black or burnt orange, tall and slender with light-green fronds hanging down to say hello or stretching to the sky. There were new otherworldly ferns with stems that rolled up at the end like a wizard’s walking stick, strange Catherine wheels of botanical wonder. As they walked they came upon an oasis of space centred on a brilliantly white marble statue of Eve, her near-naked form on a tall plinth with a semicircle of vividly scarlet flowers lined up at its base and beyond.

‘This place is amazing. I can’t believe all I’ve ever done is sunbathe outside it.’

‘It used to be a conservatory at a private house over on Loch Long on the west coast,’ Danny explained.

‘You winding me up, Papa?’

‘No. Kibble donated it to the city and they dismantled the whole thing and brought it up the Clyde by barge and cart in the 1870s. It’s been here ever since.’

‘How come you know so much?’

‘I’m old. You live long enough, you learn things.’

‘So you’ll know why you and Mum don’t talk to each other, then?’

He’d thought he was too old to fall into traps but maybe you’re never too old for that. His first reaction was to say nothing, his second was to lie. Both crumbled when he looked at her; hope and expectancy all over her face.

‘I did something I shouldn’t have done and your mother can’t forgive me for it. I don’t blame her. I just wish she’d change her mind.’

She studied him, fierce and inquisitive, and he saw her mother’s eyes. He blinked twice but they were still there when he looked again. Maybe not as accusing as Barbara’s but still too close for comfort.

‘Is that all I’m getting? I’m the one that’s grown up without a granddad because of whatever it was.’ She laughed quietly. ‘I’m the victim here.’

He laughed too, despite himself. ‘We’re all victims, kid. Everybody loses. And, yes, it’s all you’re getting. For now at least. I did something I wasn’t proud of and I’ve spent the rest of my life trying to make up for it.’

‘That’s not good enough, Papa. Not good enough at all.’

‘I know.’

As they emerged through the main gates, the lights changed at the crossing, and pedestrians began to flood across in every direction. Chloe looked at them for a second before grabbing Danny close and kissing him on the cheek. In an instant she was off, dashing across the junction towards Byres Road, her long red hair flying behind her and an arm raised high waving back towards him.

He stood and watched her go, seeing her break into an impromptu skip halfway across, and laughed out loud despite the fact that he didn’t know whether he was going to see her again, or when. He watched until she merged into the crowds and was swept up into their mass. Even when she was just another shapeless form in the moving human river, he stood with his hands thrust into his pockets and looked at where she had been.

He must have stood there for a minute or two, the consequences of age-old actions sinking in yet again, when the hand stuck in his right pocket was tickled by the vibration of his mobile phone. He pulled it out and saw her name at the top of the display, causing the flutter of butterflies to be released in his stomach again.

Lv u papa. Cu agn v soon xxx

Bloody text-speak. Is that really what they were teaching them at university? If he was speaking to her mother, he’d have a word about this. Instead he typed.

Lv u 2 darling. Cu v v soon xxx

There wasn’t all that much that Danny loved about the so-called modern world. In fact that very phrase was one that made him scowl. It had been a modern world when he was twenty and it would be one again when he was pushing up daisies. But he did love the fact that, despite his and Chloe’s separation by forty-odd years in age and a few hundred yards in distance, they could communicate instantly. It made him happy.

He would have been far less happy if he’d known that, in the river of people that was flowing along Byres Road, one was paddling rather than being swept along with the current. Twenty yards behind Chloe, unseen, unknown, a pair of eager eyes never let Danny’s granddaughter out of their sight.

Chapter 37

Friday noon

Okay, so you know what you’re going to do?’

‘No.’

‘Are you ready for this?’

‘No.’

‘C’mon, Tony. We’ve been through it a hundred times.’

‘Yeah, we have but it doesn’t mean that I’m prepared for it. I’m the one that’s going to have to go in there. On my own with a killer. Funnily enough, I’m a bit worried about it.’

‘You’ll be fine.’ Addison sounded more hopeful than believing and Winter got the distinct impression the words were meant as much for Alex Shirley’s ears as his. The gang were all there: Addison, Shirley, Kelbie, Narey and Danny, plus the governor of Blackridge, Tom Walton, and his deputy. None of them, Addison included, seemed happy with the idea of it all being in Winter’s hands, and he was even less keen on the idea than they were. But it was the only game that Atto would play, and it was his rules.

They’d hauled in a trained negotiator, a man used to dealing with potential jumpers or hostage situations, and he’d talked Winter through conversation and negotiation strategies. How and when to push it and when not to, how to understand motivational factors and how to keep Atto onside but not to let him have complete control. Or at least not to let him
think
he had. It all sounded fine in theory, but the negotiator had never met Atto. Winter had, and he wasn’t filled with hope.

They all kept looking at him, individually and collectively, full on or out the corners of their eyes, every glance and every stare causing the pressure to crank up another notch. Their lack of faith in his ability to pull it off was multiplied by the need for answers and his own doubts. The interview, to be attended by only one prison officer and Walton, the prison governor, was to go unrecorded and would begin in under three minutes. They’d all got to Blackridge too early and the wait wasn’t helping. He watched the clock tick slowly towards start time. They watched him watch it.

Danny pushed his way out of the herd and took Winter protectively by the arm, edging him away from the others. ‘I know you’re nervous, son. But that’s a good thing. It’ll keep you on your toes. You can do this. You’ve got good instincts and you’re smart. And you’ve got other advantages working for you that give you the edge on Atto.’

Winter looked doubtful.

‘You have. He’s taken a liking to you and I know that’s probably freaking you out, but it’s an edge you’ve got to use. But, most of all, Atto
wants
to tell us. He wants the headlines and he wants to deliver them through you. Work him. Squeeze him dry. Remember, you’re in charge because you have what he wants.’

Winter smiled uneasily. ‘Nice speech, Dan, but
he
also has what
we
want, and I don’t think he’s going to give it up easily.’

‘That’s my boy: glass half full. Go get him. Do it for me.’

‘Do my best, Dan. Do my best.’

‘Okay, Winter. Let’s get going.’ Alex Shirley sounded nervous, his arse on the line along with everyone else’s. ‘It’s almost time. Mr Walton, you ready?’

The governor, a no-nonsense man in his mid-fifties wearing what looked suspiciously like a wig, nodded curtly. He and Winter positioned themselves in front of the sliding door, each taking a deep breath. The prison boss was to be merely an observer, Winter’s usual position and one that he begrudged giving up.

The door slowly slid back and the two men walked in, Winter taking up the chair in front of the broad wooden table and the governor retreating to the side, where he stood against the wall. Moments later, a hiss of air signalled that the door on the far wall was sliding open and Atto emerged into the room, his eyes seeking the other side of the desk and bobbing his head in approval when he saw Winter sitting there. At his back was the prison guard with the shaved head whom he and Danny had encountered on their first visit. The officer gave a respectful nod towards his boss, then assumed a position against the wall with his eyes focused on Atto.

‘Thank you for coming, Anthony. It’s good to see you again.’

Winter couldn’t offer the same sentiment in return. How could it be in any way good to meet a man who had killed all those women? How could he possibly make conversational small talk with him. He wouldn’t.

‘Time is against us, Mr Atto. We need to know what’s going on and we need to know it quickly.’

Atto’s face fell in disappointment. ‘Straight to business, is that it, Anthony? No pleasantries, no “How are you?” Okay, if that’s how you wish to play it. But it’s not the best way for you to get the most out of the game. Surely at least we can get beyond using “Mr Atto”. No?’

The negotiator had told Winter to engage with the man, to call him by his first name if he could, but to be wary of using shorthand familiars, such as Archie or Arch in case it offended. It was all so by the book but, when push came to shove, it stuck in Winter’s throat to make as if he were remotely pally with this monster. But he’d do it.

‘Okay. Archibald. We can do that. You need to forgive me if I’m businesslike because this is serious. Two young women have been murdered. You say you know what’s going on. Your DNA is found at the scene where one of them was abducted. You can see that it’s serious.’

‘I can see that it’s serious for you, Anthony. And for all the policemen that are no doubt on the other side of that wall. But it’s not serious for me. Why would it be? I don’t know those women and probably wouldn’t care about them even if I did. And it’s not as if I can be locked up for any longer than I already am. Serious? I don’t think so.’

‘You don’t think murder is serious? I saw those women. I saw how their bodies were left laid out in the cemeteries after they’d been killed. Left lying there like—’

Winter saw the light that went on in Atto’s eyes and realised his mistake too late. The man was feasting on the image that he’d help serve up for him. He wanted to see what Winter had seen and was intent on tapping into his memory bank of film.

‘Don’t stop, Anthony. Please, go on.’

‘No. There’s nothing to be gained by that. If you’re telling the truth, then you already know what was done. And why. Is that right?’

Atto pouted slightly, disappointed at Winter’s not playing along. ‘Yes, that’s right. I know the who and the why.’

The bombshell landed softly in the table between them, as if disarmed by the unexpectedness of it. Winter was aware of the governor and the guard lifting their heads sharply to make sure they had heard what they thought they had. His own heart beat a little faster and he deliberately hesitated before replying, knowing that he couldn’t win the game they were playing with one remark, but he could lose it. Don’t ask who, he told himself. Don’t ask who, not yet. Not now.