Crossing the Line (Kerry Wilkinson) (38 page)

‘How did you know he was going to be in the shopping centre?’

‘I didn’t. He’d been in the papers about a year ago when he had another kid – some article about

him being a drain on society. It gave the road that he lived in, which made it easy to get the actual

address. I followed him for most of the Saturday but he never seemed to be alone, so I tried again on

the Monday. I got on the same bus, got off at the same stop and followed him into the Arndale. When

he went into the toilet, I thought it was time to do something. I’d kept one of my old needles and filled it with water, thought I’d give him a scare.’ He winked. ‘Worked, didn’t it.’

Jessica knew she had to remain professional, even if the situation was anything but. ‘After that,

there were twelve days until you attacked Humphrey Marsh.’

Max asked for more water and readjusted himself under the blanket. Jessica knew their half-hour

was up and that Rowlands would have told Cole where they’d gone and why. Backup would be on its

way any minute – not that they needed it. After another drink, Max began again.

‘After Todd, I had a couple of bad days. I honestly thought that was it, that I’d overdone it, lying in

my bed barely able to move. As I was getting better, I just remember the nurse – Beverley – lovely

woman, she’d do anything for anyone. She was talking to one of the other nurses about how her

husband was cheating on her. She said he had tickets for some festival thing and that he was going

without her. I thought that anyone who could treat her like that needed a right hiding but I wasn’t up to it plus I had no idea where they lived. All I knew was that he was going to that ParkFest thing. On the

days before, I was feeling better, so I went along to the park thinking it’d be this small thing and that I’d be able to find him easily. I didn’t realise it’d be thousands of people.’

‘How did you think you’d know what he looked like?’

Max smiled. ‘It’s not a common name, is it? Plus Beverley had been saying how her husband

always buys these ridiculous new clothes whenever he’s got someone on the go. I remembered this

game from when I was a kid – me and my mates would go into the centre and yell out “John” or

something like that just to see who’d turn around. Once we clocked a guy, we’d follow him for a short

while, then one of us would go up close behind him and say something like, “Hello John”. He’d turn

around, not knowing who we were and we’d bluff it, pretending we lived down the road or whatever.

While he was distracted, one of my mates would slide past him and get his wallet.’

He took another drink of water and peered down at the floor. ‘I’m not proud of it – but we were

only kiddies. It was just one of those things. It made me think that if I walked up and down the line—’

‘
You
were calling Humphrey’s name.’

‘Right.’

‘I was standing next to him.’

For the first time, Max seemed genuinely surprised, shuffling backwards in his seat, eyes wider.

‘You’re not . . . ?’

‘I’m not the one having an affair with him, no, but I know the woman who was and she didn’t know

either.’

Jessica’s interruption seemed to throw Max off his stride. He checked his empty teacup and then

finished off the latest glass of water. ‘I saw him turning in the pink jacket, so I knew he was the guy. I bought a ticket from one of the touts outside, then picked up a mask on the inside. It was really easy to follow him about for the day but I wasn’t feeling too well around lunchtime. I think the music was too

loud and I had to have a sit down in that food bit. If it had started to rain, I’m not sure I would have got through it.’

‘Where did you get the pepper spray?’

‘Had it a while. A few years ago, I was out in Turkey – before I started to get ill. I brought it back

with me, not knowing what I was going to do with it. It’s been at the back of a drawer ever since.’

‘You knew what you were doing when you ran for the crowd.’

Max’s smile acknowledged her without seeming to be too boastful. ‘Always head for cover,

always look to blend in. I knew I’d never outrun anyone and if I went for the exit, then people would

have it covered. I just ran for the largest mass of people and didn’t look backwards. When I could, I

ditched the mask. My top is grey on the inside, so I turned it inside out and walked out. The guards

didn’t even look twice at me.’

The living room was suddenly bathed in a blue flashing glow, lights blinking through the front

window. Jessica turned to Izzy. ‘Do you want to go and tell them to take it easy?’

When it was just them, Jessica peered back to Max, who looked more worried now, his eyebrows

meeting in the middle, a little of the sparkle gone from his eyes. ‘What’s going to happen to me?’

‘Can you sit in a car?’

‘Yes.’

‘We’re going to take you to the station and I’ll ask you to repeat this on camera and tape. Your

hood, notes and everything else will be taken as evidence and then . . . honestly, I have no idea.’ She

paused for breath. ‘I’ve got one more question for you: did anyone else know what you were up to?’

Max shook his head. ‘They might have suspected but it was all me.’

Jessica helped him to his feet, hooking one arm around his waist, and then led him to the front door.

A dozen PCs had turned up, their cars clogging up the end of the cul de sac, giving the residents a

show like they’d never had before.

Standing in the middle with a photographer by his side was Garry Ashford. If anyone asked, then

she had no idea who’d tipped him off but never let it be said that Jessica didn’t repay her favours.

40

Three days later and Jessica was sitting in Cole’s office waiting for him to get off the phone. He made

a few notes on a pad on his desk, mouthed a ‘sorry’ to her and then finally put down the receiver. ‘I

said you could have gone to court if you wanted.’

‘Not my kind of place.’

‘Max Winward’s been released on bail. He pleaded guilty to all four counts. Usually he’d have

been remanded but given his condition the magistrate has sent him home on health grounds with an

electronic tag and twenty-four-hour monitoring. He’s basically under house arrest.’

‘Did the CPS object?’

‘Not a peep. Apparently even they draw the line at locking up someone who’s likely to die some

time soon. No one expects him to make Crown Court.’

With that, one of strangest cases Jessica had ever been involved with was officially in the solved

pile. Considering they’d found two kidnapped kids – sort of, exposed one of their own and caught the

person who’d been attacking people in public all in under a week, everything felt flat.

For one, Max Winward wasn’t the type of hardened criminal any of them had signed up to catch. It

didn’t mean he hadn’t committed serious offences, or that he shouldn’t be punished – but it was still

hard to get worked up about putting him away. Another reason was that anyone who’d had any

involvement in the exposure of Niall Hambleton was being called into the main GMP headquarters at

Moston Vale for official interviews. Jessica had already had hers, explaining how she had

interviewed Colin Rawlinson’s son, who had made the initial allegations. The entire process was

taking place under the strictest of confidentialities, with everyone interviewed forbidden to talk about what had been said. Naturally, that meant that everyone and their dog knew exactly what was going

on. Jessica couldn’t remember morale ever being so low. The Met’s investigator – Matthew Pratley –

had a name that had been invented for piss-taking and no one was holding back.

Cole held up a copy of that morning’s
Herald
, which had the headline ‘MAD MAX?’

He was watching Jessica closely. ‘Interesting how the local paper and the BBC got hold of

information from Max’s official police statement.’

‘Lucky them.’

‘More like lucky us – the steady drip, drip of information ahead of his court date has managed to

push the inquiry into the Stretford Slasher’s conviction off the news agendas. I didn’t hear a word

about it on the radio this morning and it’s not in the first twelve pages of today’s paper.’

‘Funny, that.’

‘It’s almost like someone around here knew that journalists would be more interested in Max than

anything else. If they hadn’t had the information, we’d have spent the entire week fending off

questions about a botched investigation from twenty-five years ago instead of getting on with

everything from now.’

‘We must have a guardian angel somewhere.’

‘Indeed,
somewhere
. Pratley’s gone berserk apparently. I think he thought he’d be up from the Met and on the front pages every day.’

‘Niall deserves everything he gets but people actually going out of their way to stop us doing the

job properly doesn’t help anyone.’

Cole leant in, raising his eyebrows. ‘Perhaps that’s a view that should stay between us?’

‘Of course, Sir.’

‘Plus we shouldn’t forget that someone lost their sight in all of this.’

‘I know, Sir. Sorry, Sir.’

‘Either way, all of our targets for May were hit, plus we’re under budget on the overtime – perhaps

because a certain someone keeps working even when they’ve been told not to.’

‘I’ll have a word with Izzy, Sir.’

This time Cole actually laughed, leaning back into his seat. ‘I hope you realise how lenient

everyone’s been with you over the years.’

‘I do . . . but we’re still a sergeant short – at least one – and I was thinking perhaps if you put in

your recommendation, pushed a few things . . .’

Cole stared at Jessica in the knowing way that he so often did; the ‘what-am-I-going-to-do-with-

you’ look. It wasn’t just with Thomas McKinney that Jessica was as subtle as a sledgehammer.

‘Haven’t you got work to do?’

‘I was hoping to take a half-day. I know it’s late notice but I’m up with my hours, Pat’s half-asleep

down there anyway, so he won’t mind. We’ve got plenty in and—’

‘Just go.’

Jessica didn’t wait for him to change his mind, heading out of the door, passing Pat and his family-

sized bag of chicken and thyme crisps, and making for her car.

There was one further promise she hadn’t yet managed to keep.

The Northern Quarter was like a different place in the sunshine. Instead of the murky, cobbled alleys

bathed in shadows and frost, it seemed like the pleasant throwback to another time that it was. Jessica

parked her car close to the church hall at Ancoats and walked towards the familiar maze of back

streets, enjoying the warmth on her arms. Everything was always better when the sun came out; she

might even risk visiting her mother again – she had helped her solve a case, after all. First, she

wanted to spend the afternoon doing everything she could to locate Tony. She’d promised his mother

that she’d do her best to find him and because of everything that had happened, she hadn’t had a

chance.

Jessica started with the regular group of homeless people but, unlike before, this time no one even

pretended to have seen him. She weaved in and out of the cobbled byways, looking for anyone who

might have seen him, perhaps even some of that fluff that was falling out of his coat.

Nothing.

Jessica was ready to start another lap when she turned onto the road on which Tony lived. Parked

on the opposite side of the road from his flat was a gleaming red soft-top sports car that hadn’t been

there when she’d passed the first time. The car would have been out of place in many parts of the city

centre – but especially here. This was where arty-types lived; it was full of galleries, music bars,

cafes, and craft shops. This wasn’t a spot for fancy wine bars, it was cheap pints, yummy mummies

and students. Jessica hurried along the street, but the glare from the windscreen prevented her from

seeing if there was anyone in the driver’s seat until she was so close that the alarm beeped a warning.

The car was empty but she was directly under the lamppost where she had first seen Scott Dewhurst

standing.

The street was quiet aside from a handful of mid-afternoon shoppers unfamiliar enough with the

area that they weren’t batting an eyelid at the sports car. Jessica crossed the road and could see

Tony’s slightly open front door. No pepper spray – she wasn’t on duty – all she had was the handcuffs

she often kept in her jacket pocket. Jessica thought about calling the station but what could she say?

The person on whom she illegally had files might be up to something?

Quietly, Jessica edged inside, doing her best to stop the door squeaking. At the top of the stairs, she

could hear some sort of clunking noise.

Whump!

Something hit the ground hard above and Jessica eased the front door back into the position it had

been and made her way up the stairs, sticking to the edges to try to stop them squeaking. There was

definitely more than one voice in the flat. One was higher-pitched, the other naturally louder. Jessica

reached the top and rested against the wall. The door was slightly open but Jessica couldn’t

manoeuvre herself into a position that would let her see anything other than the inner wall. She could

hear the voice clearly now though.

The louder voice, which she assumed was Scott’s, was speaking calmly but with authority and an

edge. ‘Where’s the rest of my money, Tony?’

Tony pleaded a whimpering reply. ‘I can’t get it. Me ma says I can’t have any more until I go