Anna hurtled into the incident room. There were only skeleton staff on duty, so she asked if Langton was around. She was told he was in Cunningham's office. She barged in, gasping, "He was still in London at two-thirty this afternoon!"
Langton sprang up from behind the desk. "What?"
She tried to get her breath. "He visited Honour Nolan in Holloway; he bloody gave Damien Nolan's passport for identification!"
"Jesus Christ! Did you talk to her?"
"No, I came straight back here as soon as I was told! This narrows down where he might have gone to next, so we can step up the search for him ..."
Langton was already out and yelling for everyone to get onto the airports; then, gesturing for Anna to join him, he said he would telephone the prison. "They won't let you see her," she responded.
He turned on her, and snapped that they would drag her out by her hair if needs be.
CHAPTER 26
Anna again made the journey across London, this time in a patrol car, with sirens blasting. By the time they had been checked through the prison reception, and led along various corridors to wait in a small anteroom, it was after 10
P.M
. Langton had a terse conversation with the prison governor, who, as Anna had said, did not approve of a visit at this time of night. They had to wait another fifteen minutes before Honour was brought in.
She was wearing a prison-issue nightdress; for a dressing gown, she wore her coat. Her hair was in two braids, the gray parting even more prominent.
"Sit down, Honour," Langton instructed. "I'll get straight to the reason why we're here. You had a visitor this afternoon. Don't waste our time pretending it was your husband, because we know it wasn't. It was Alexander Fitzpatrick, wasn't it?"
"Yes," she said, hardly audible.
"Okay, Honour, it will really help your defense if you now tell us where he is."
"I don't know."
"You must have talked about where he was going?"
"No." She had tears in her eyes and chewed at her lips.
"So, tell me—what you did talk about?"
Anna leaned forward and touched Honour's hand, going for a softer approach. "Your husband has been arrested again."
"Oh God." She bowed her head.
"We know Fitzpatrick has Damien's passport, Honour. We also found a large sum of money hidden under the floorboards at the farmhouse."
She shook her head, trying not to cry.
"Did Damien know about this money?"
"No, no, he didn't. It was for me, for my lawyers, and to help his mother. He said he'd used her savings—had them transferred—so he was concerned about who would look after her."
"So Damien didn't know he'd hidden the money," Anna said again, and glanced at Langton.
"No. I knew he was using Damien's passport; he said he'd taken it out of a drawer in the kitchen. I'm not sure where the money came from."
"So he told you all this, Honour, and yet didn't tell you where he was going?"
"No. I swear to you I have no idea. This is probably why he didn't tell me. I have never known where he was; it was always that way." She started to cry, and searched in her coat pocket for a tissue. "He said the money was not stolen, that it belonged to him, that Julia had given it to him. It's all been
her
fault."
"She's dead, Honour, your sister was murdered. The brakes of her car slashed!"
"He had nothing to do with that. I know he would not have done that. You keep on making him out to be this monster but he isn't, I know he isn't; she made it impossible for him."
Langton slapped the table with the flat of his hand, his patience running out. "You mean impossible to pay for shipping in a fucking cargo of lethal drugs? You need to get yourself straightened out, Mrs. Nolan. You are going to have a lot of time behind bars to come to terms with the fact that you were used."
"I was not!" she said angrily.
"Alexander Fitzpatrick used everyone he came into contact with; either that, or he killed them. You have protected him and you seem prepared to let your husband take responsibility. He'll be charged—"
"No, please, he was never involved, I swear to you!"
"So, you care for him, do you?"
"Yes, of course I do."
"But you are prepared to let him take the punishment? He's in the cells right now, Honour. If you say he's innocent, prove it—
tell us where Fitzpatrick is."
"I don't know, but I do know that Damien was not involved, you have to believe me."
"Give me one good reason," Langton said, leaning forward.
She cried and twisted the sodden tissue round and round. "You just have to believe me. Alex didn't even want to get me involved, but then that man Julia had got working for her got shot, and Alex was injured ..."
Langton snapped bitterly, " 'That man' was an ex-police officer, Honour, a decent hardworking guy who was about to get married; but between you, and that sister of yours, he got drawn into your lover's dirty business."
"I'm sorry about him, I am really, but after that happened, it just all spiraled out of control. I only agreed to hide the drugs because he had no one else he could trust."
"So whose idea was it to move them to Mrs. Eatwell's?" Anna asked quietly, trying not to get Honour too upset—unlike Langton, whose patience was exhausted.
"Mine. She called to say the police had been round asking about him. All the time he was there at the cottage, he had told her they had to be moved quickly. He didn't believe that anyone would make the connection. So that's why I did it." She blew her nose and wiped her eyes, then looked up. "You have to understand something: I have loved Alex for many years. I still love him and, you may find it hard to believe, but he loves me."
Anna patted her hand again. "I am sure he does, to take such a risk, coming here to see you."
"To make sure I will be all right, and his children, and his mother; he's not a bad person."
Langton banged back his chair and stood up. "Not a bad person! Tell that to David Rushton's relatives, to Donny Petrozzo's wife, to that boy in Brixton Prison, Adrian Summers—even your sister! Those kids are going to grow up and find out their father killed her. Whatever excuses you give, you are just as despicable as he is. And, I've not even brought up how many people would have died if that Fentanyl had got to be sold on the streets."
Langton walked to the door and rapped hard with his knuckles; a female officer was waiting outside. "We're through. Take her back to her cell. She's going to have to get used to sleeping in one."
"As long as he is free, I don't care where I am," Honour said defiantly.
Langton turned back and pointed. "You think he's out of reach? Think again, Honour. I will get him—then watch the two-faced bastard turn into a sniffling wreck." He stalked out.
Anna sat for a moment longer and then she stood up too. Honour gave her a sad look, and then looked down at the damp tissue in her hands. "You don't choose who you love; it's fate. I married Damien because he reminded me of Alex, only to find out just how close he was—his brother. That's fate, isn't it?"
"I'm sure it is. Is it also fate that your own sister became his mistress? Or was that just to keep it in the family?" She could see the hurt flash across Honour's face. Anna leaned across the table. "If you care anything for Damien, then for God's sake, tell me if you know where Fitzpatrick is."
"You know something? I think I would, if I did know, because Damien is a really wonderful person and doesn't deserve this, but I truthfully don't. Alex wouldn't have told me anyway; you see, he lives on secrets. It's what makes him always so unobtainable. I was foolish enough to be satisfied with scraps, until this time; we were going to be together."
"But it wasn't going to be you, Honour. Julia was driving to meet him with the children. She was going to meet up with him on the boat."
"That's not true! That is not the truth!"
Anna turned and walked out toward the waiting prison officer. She left Honour sobbing, but she didn't feel any compassion for her; quite the reverse.
Langton was standing by the patrol car, smoking; he turned as she approached. "You get anything from her?"
"Nope. I don't think she does know."
"She made out that Damien was in the clear," he said, stubbing out his cigarette on the ground.
"Yes, well, I told you that."
Langton gave instructions to drive back to the station; again he constantly used his phone to answer and send messages. "Still no sighting, and we've no way of tracing where all that cash came from, as Rushton's dead along with Julia. If it came from her we'll never know," he muttered.
Anna remained silent, going over the entire interview with Honour, then she leaned forward and tapped Langton's shoulder. "Where are the children?"
"Safe house, still with the same au pair and a family liaison officer, plus security. In fact, we're going to have to sort them out, as it's costing the budget. Why do you ask?"
"Wherever Fitzpatrick is going, I doubt if he'll ever make it back here to the UK."
"So?"
"Well, he sorts out money for his mother, tells Honour it's for his kids and for her to get a decent lawyer; he takes a big risk going to the prison ..."
"He thrives on risks! Look at the way he came into the station. I think he's kind of crazy ..."
"Yes, maybe, but it also shows the other side of the monster we rate him as. Do you think it's possible he might try to see his children?"
Langton began texting to the station for them to check out the safe house. By the time they were back in the incident room, Phil had already contacted the safe house. There had been no phone calls; the children were well cared for; the Chinese au pair was still in residence. The family liaison officer was still there and a second uniformed officer had been posted; the only contact they had had was a query from the au pair about her wages.
Langton suddenly flagged, tired out, and suggested that Anna take off home as well. In the meantime, the night-duty staff would be on call if there was any sighting of Fitzpatrick. They were instructed to contact Langton if they received any news.
Anna had poured herself a very tepid, stale cup of coffee, and was sitting on the edge of a desk talking to Phil, when the place lit up.
In a flurry of calls, they had three separate sightings of a man fitting
the description of Alexander Fitzpatrick. A man had been seen at Pad-dington Station heading for the Heathrow Express. The train moved out four minutes later. A man had also been seen boarding the Eurostar train at St. Pancras. A third man was being held by Gatwick security guards; he admitted that he was Alexander Fitzpatrick.
The latter they were able to dismiss quickly, as he was only five foot four. The second proved to also be a mistake, but they had not, as yet, got any further details on the Heathrow Express sighting. However, the airport security guards were waiting.
Phil was red-eyed from tiredness. Anna offered to stay on, but he said he would keep going and suggested that she go home, so at least one of them would be fresh for the next day.
As she walked through the station, Anna hesitated, passing the stairs that led down to the cells; she told herself to keep on walking out but something made her turn back and head down.
There were four old-fashioned holding cells, only two of which were occupied; one by a very drunk and morose teenager, the other by Damien Nolan.
The night-duty officer looked surprised to see her; he was sitting at his post, reading the evening paper.
"Everything okay?" Anna asked.
"Yeah, well, the drunk kid is a pain in the arse, cleaning up after him puking; he's made the place stink."
"And Mr. Nolan?"
"He was reading—I let him have a book from the ones we get left lying around. Seems a very nice bloke."
"Has he eaten?"
"Yes, sausage and chips and a cup of tea."
Anna looked at the closed cell door and then asked for it to be opened.
Damien was lying on the bunk bed reading, even though there was only a dim ceiling light on. He put the book aside and smiled. "I would never have believed it—Barbara Cartland!"
Anna laughed, although she felt very uncomfortable, even more so when he stood up and put his hand out to shake hers. She told him to
sit down. "I went to see Honour this evening, to take the holdall with her clothes and wash bag."
"Thank you. Is she all right?"
"Yes, she's fine."
"Do you think you could get me some writing paper and a pen? I'd like to get a letter to her."