We walked quickly away from Jimmy King’s house. Danut had kept a lookout, and we got out the same way we had got in, by scrambling over the wall. Laura was quiet.
‘How did you know Dan Kinsella was really Luke King’s brother?’ I asked.
She swept her hair back over her ears and said, ‘Part guesswork, part memory, but it sort of fitted. Was there a girl at the meeting who seemed to be with Thomas King?’
I thought back, remembered the girl with red flashes in her hair. ‘Yeah, nice girl. Charlie I think her name was. I got the vibe that she and Thomas might have been getting it together.’
Laura smiled, but it seemed a sad one. ‘It seemed like Charlie read the same signals as you.’
‘You make it sound like there’s a postscript.’
‘He went to see her yesterday, maybe after he strung up Eric Randle. They spent the day together, but when she expected it to get all loved up, he turned nasty.’ She flashed a look at me to let me know that this was all off
the record. When I nodded my agreement, she carried on. ‘He told her that he wanted to make her dream come true. The problem was that her dream had been one of waking up breathless, like she was being strangled. He started to grip her around her neck, but this was more than play-fighting. She had to fight him off. She’s still got the marks to prove it.’
‘So you deduced that Dan Kinsella was really Thomas King from that? I’m impressed.’
She smiled. ‘I wish it was that simple. Jess, the girl found tied to her chair. Well, she kept a dream diary, or sometimes wrote her dreams down on pieces of paper, those that she thought were premonitions.’
‘And there was one just like her death scene?’
‘Not far from it.’
‘Like Eric had painted it?’
Laura smiled. ‘Looks like we had the psychics of Blackley lining up to predict it.’
‘Wow, you did well to keep that away from the press.’
She smiled ruefully. ‘Let’s just say that the force isn’t as receptive to the idea as I am.’ She sighed heavily. ‘So it looked like the killer was someone from the group, because whoever was killing the group members was doing it in ways they had already predicted.’
‘That’s sick.’
Laura shook her head. ‘No, it’s just a game for him, a tease. Thomas King isn’t doing this to be sick. He’s doing it because it’s fun.’
‘And to protect himself,’ I added. ‘Kyle’s body confirmed the connection with the abductions. It looks like Thomas was attracted to the group because Eric Randle
got himself involved with the family of a missing boy after one of his dreams. It looks like it piqued Thomas’s interest, and so he joined the group to find out more. He stayed in the group because it was a way of deflecting attention, making him look like a potential victim, not the perpetrator.’ Then I thought of something. ‘What about the way Eric died?’ I asked.
She looked at me with interest. ‘You tell me. Did you hear anything?’
I thought back to the meeting, and all the different accounts I had heard. I had made some notes, but they were general, more about the moods, the people. But then I remembered Billy Hunt.
‘There was someone who talked about an old tramp hanging. Someone called Billy Hunt. Eric had even had a dream like that, where there was something around his throat and he couldn’t move.’
Laura nodded. ‘I’ve met Billy. But I think Thomas got lucky with that one. It seems that his attempt at sedating young Kyle went wrong, so when he dumped the body he was able to put the blame on Eric, or so he thought, and still fulfil Billy Hunt’s dream.’
‘But he went to Charlie’s all wired because he’d just killed Eric?’
‘And because Kyle had died,’ Laura agreed. ‘That was an accident. Remember the cards I told you about: healing hands. He told Charlie he wanted to kill her and bring her back to life. He thinks he is doing the same with families, bringing mothers and sons back together. Kyle wasn’t meant to die.’
‘So when you were speaking to Danut,’ I asked, ‘you
thought that it must be someone from the group, because they knew the dreams, and that Dan Kinsella looked the likeliest because of what he said to Charlie about making her dream come true?’
Laura nodded.
‘And so when you heard that Thomas King had returned that Audi with blood on it, the one that had been near to Jess’s house, you figured that if it must be Thomas King, and that it must also be Dan Kinsella, the obvious thing is that they are one and the same person?’
Laura nodded, but she smiled this time. ‘But it wasn’t just that,’ she said.
I raised my eyebrows. ‘Go on.’
‘There’s a huge family picture in the hallway of the house. I saw it when I was there a few days ago. When Charlie gave me a photo of Dan Kinsella, I knew he looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him. As soon as Danut mentioned Thomas King, my mind flashed back to the family portrait, and I realised why I recognised Dan Kinsella. He was really Thomas King.’
I smiled, impressed. I thought then about Sam and his missing child. ‘Why has Thomas taken Sam’s son?’
Laura exhaled loudly at that question. ‘I don’t know if he has, but remember that Sam Nixon acted for Luke King. Maybe Sam got too interested in what Luke had to say.’
‘Do you think Luke had anything to do with Jess’s death?’
Laura shook her head. ‘Not with the death. But I think he knows about it, and I think he is trying to protect his brother. They’ve got a sign above the door, engraved
into stone.
Strength in Unity.
It looks like it’s the King family against the world.’
‘And Luke does it by making himself suspect number one?’
Laura gave a thin smile. ‘We can moralise all we like, but sometimes we will do anything to protect our own.’
I looked away at that. My father had once told me how he had allowed someone to get away with murder because to speak out would have made it hard for him and his young family. Morality can be complex.
‘But Thomas King is out of control now,’ I said. ‘A child died, which was not how it was supposed to be. So he killed Eric. Then he tried to kill Charlie.’
‘That was sexual. He was excitable all day, but once things turned smoochy it tipped him over the edge.’
‘It wasn’t sexual before?’
‘No, not at any point. None of the children who were abducted were molested, as far as we know. That was just delusional, some conceit of his, that he could change people’s lives. Jess wasn’t sexually assaulted. She just got in his way when she saw something in a dream. Maybe she told it to the group and Thomas thought it was too close to the truth. If he was discovered, it would put a stop to his good work, so it was a cold and rational decision to kill her in the way that he did. His desire to hurt Charlie wasn’t rational. It was drink mixed with desire, and the real Thomas King bubbled to the surface.’
‘And so, if he has taken Sam Nixon’s boy?’
Laura’s expression was grim. ‘Henry is in real danger, because he’s a hostage.’
‘For what outcome?’
‘That’s why he is in danger, because Thomas doesn’t know yet. Thomas King is imploding, and Sam’s son is the subject in his final message.’
‘A blaze of glory?’
Laura nodded grimly. ‘It’s always the way. Think of Thomas Hamilton in Dunblane, Michael Ryan in Hungerford, the Columbine boys. When they know they have reached the point of no return, it only ever results in death, and that includes anyone who gets in the way.’
‘So what next?’
‘We are not going to move on anyone from the King family until we have something firm. We’re still waiting for the forensic hits from the scene.’
‘Why are they taking so long?’
‘Money. They can pay more to bring the results through quicker, like a queue-jump, but the department has run itself skint on the child abductions through the summer.’
‘And Sam’s son is still missing?’
Laura nodded. ‘They think he wandered off after Sam’s wife passed out.’
‘Sam doesn’t, because he was here, and I know where I’m going.’
‘Where?’
‘I’m going to see a doctor.’
Sam went straight to Alison’s office. She wasn’t in, but Sam didn’t care either way. He was going to search her office.
Her desk was small and functional, just chipboard and vinyl, with a computer on top and three drawers. A filing cabinet filled one corner of the room.
He went to the top drawer first, flinging it open, some of the contents jumping out onto the floor. But it was all junk, just pens and paper clips, loose pieces of paper. The second drawer was just the same, except that there were some training notes and copies of the Law Society
Gazette
, just headlines of gloom about less money.
He kicked the drawer shut and yanked hard on the bottom drawer. Nothing. Just Alison’s court kit. Hair bands, an umbrella, some perfume.
He stood up and looked around. Terry’s file must be here somewhere. If he could find it, he might be able to force Harry into giving up Thomas King. If he won’t do it for Henry, he might do it to save himself.
Then he saw a Post-it note stuck to the monitor. Just two numbers on it: 14. He knew what it meant: the end
digits to her computer password, as it changed every two months. He knew her password as he had shown her round the system. Blondie. And there was 14 at the end.
He turned on her monitor and logged in. As the system booted into life, he went to the filing cabinet.
Alison’s files were in alphabetical order, and as Sam went through them he threw them onto the floor, just so he didn’t miss any. He went through each drawer, and still he couldn’t find Terry McKay’s file.
He went back to the computer monitor. He checked in her documents folder. As he sat down in her chair, his eyes scanned quickly through the files and folders. Again, nothing.
He clicked on Outlook. He went back a week and read Alison’s emails. Some were work-related, but many were quick messages to meet for lunch or for a meal. He read those carefully. Were there code names here? What name would Harry use?
He sat back and rubbed his eyes. He couldn’t see anything in the messages. He stood up quickly and went to leave the room. Maybe he would have a chance to look in Harry’s office. Before he got to the door, he realised there was someone standing there. It was Alison.
‘What the hell are you doing now?’ she asked, aghast.
‘Where is it?’ he shouted.
Her cheeks reddened. ‘Where is what?’
‘Terry McKay’s file. His murder file. You took it.’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘To jump the queue,’ Sam scoffed. ‘To keep in with Harry.’
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake!’ she yelled. ‘Listen to yourself.’
Sam stepped closer. ‘Do you know where it is?’
Alison shook her head. ‘No, I do not know where it is, and why should I help you?’
‘Because my son is missing.’
She paused at that, and when she spoke, her voice was quiet. ‘I do not know what you think I have been up to, but the threat in this place isn’t from me.’
‘What do you mean?’ Sam stepped closer.
Alison swallowed and looked nervous.
‘Alison? Tell me. I need to know. My son is in danger.’
She looked down at the files on the floor, at the intense look in Sam’s eyes, and thought about walking away. But she spotted something else in his eyes: a plea for help.
‘Jon Hampson,’ she said quietly. ‘I keep seeing him with Harry, and I saw him coming out of your office the other morning. He looked furtive.’
Sam was surprised. ‘Jon? Why would he want it? He’s just a clerk.’
‘I don’t know, but he’s the one with Harry’s ear, not me.’
Sam tried to think, to work out why Jon would be a threat.
‘I heard him talking with Jimmy King when he was here the other day,’ Alison said, nervously. ‘They mentioned Terry’s case.’
It all came in at Sam in a rush. He felt his hands tremble. Jon Hampson, former senior detective, now a senior clerk at Parsons & Co. He thought about the date of the murder, and how long Jon had been at the firm. He must have retired not long after Terry McKay was
arrested for murder, the case left unsolved, no one else suspected. Jon Hampson ended up at Parsons & Co—nothing unusual in that—but it seemed from his lifestyle that he enjoyed a very good income, certainly a lot more than most solicitors’ clerks.
Sam rushed into Jon Hampson’s room. Jon was there, working through some files. Sam was angry, his eyes wild. ‘You knew, didn’t you?’ he shouted accusingly.
‘I knew what?’ Jon stood up, walked towards him.
‘You knew all about Terry McKay.’ As Jon stayed silent, Sam shouted, ‘You bastard. You fucking bastard. You knew all along. And you were watching me, reporting back to Harry.’
Jon didn’t move, so Sam got nearer to him, his breath close enough for Jon to feel the heat. ‘What did you say you wanted, a piece of the pie?’
Jon took a deep breath, and Sam noticed that his cheeks were red.
‘I didn’t really know anything,’ he said quietly. Gone was the brashness from the bar a few days earlier. ‘I had my suspicions. McKay had said something different on the way in to the station. He was drunk though, so we couldn’t have used it. Egan was angry, thought Harry had got him to change his story. We just didn’t know why.’
‘Egan?’
Jon nodded. ‘I wasn’t the SIO. We were both on the team though.’
‘So what did you do?’
Jon looked uneasy. ‘Not much. There was no proof of anything, so I just let Harry think that I knew something. He offered me a job when I retired.’
‘Made you too well-off to say anything?’
Jon smiled unpleasantly.
‘You let him buy your silence,’ accused Sam.
Jon nodded. ‘And worth every penny. I gave most of my waking hours to the police. All I had to show for it was a semi-detached bungalow and a poxy pension, while all the time fat cats like Harry grew richer. Why didn’t I deserve some?’
‘You had something of value,’ Sam said, his voice getting louder, bringing the secretaries out of their rooms. ‘Integrity. A clean conscience.’
Jon sneered. ‘And now I’ve got a holiday home and a nest egg. So go fuck off with your conscience,’ and he stormed out of the room.
Sam was going to follow him, confront him further, but then he realised that it wouldn’t change anything. But maybe Egan would help more.
Sam walked quickly into the cobbled yard of the police station and saw Egan waiting at the back wall, just where he’d said he would be. Sam was panting by the time he reached him.
‘What’s this cloak-and-dagger shit, Mr Nixon? We’re sort of busy right now.’
Sam caught his breath and then said, ‘Me too. I am trying to find my son.’
Egan didn’t respond.
‘Terry McKay was once arrested for murder,’ said Sam. ‘Who do you think did it?’
Sam could see that Egan didn’t want to answer at first, that he didn’t need reminding of which murder it
was. After a few seconds of pursing his lips, he said, ‘Terry McKay was the only suspect.’
‘That’s not the question I asked, Inspector.’
‘I’m not in the witness box,’ retorted Egan.
‘You might be, if you don’t help me.’
Egan stared at Sam for a while, and then softened, maybe remembering that Sam’s son was missing.
‘I didn’t think McKay had done it,’ said Egan. ‘Terry McKay is a drunk and he’s a thief, but he is not a murderer. You know what people like him are like. They steal, they get caught, they admit it, and they go to court. They are a nuisance, but just the everyday part of being a copper. I’ve never known him hurt anyone.’
‘So why was he arrested?’
‘We got some information,’ said Egan, a smile flitting across his face. ‘It was enough to lead us to him. He had the purse, and his story was a crock of shite.’
‘Who tipped you off?’
Egan smiled. ‘You know I won’t tell you that.’
Sam guessed straightaway who it had been: someone connected with Jimmy King.
‘But you didn’t charge him.’
‘That wasn’t our decision. That was the CPS. You know how it works.’
‘But everyone thinks he got away with it,’ said Sam.
‘He had an alibi.’
Sam looked surprised. ‘How come?’
‘He was wanted for shoplifting,’ said Egan. ‘It had been caught on CCTV, a booze theft, and had happened at the same time as the murder, but a mile away.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘Whoever called it in, hadn’t counted on
that. Maybe they’d seen him sleeping off the stolen sherry later and assumed he had been like that all day.’
‘Who was she, the dead girl?’ asked Sam, his mind busy with what he had just been told.
At that, Egan smirked. ‘Ask your client.’
Sam paused, confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘She was Luke King’s fiancée. Or, should I say,
ex
-fiancée. Debbie Harris. She’d dumped him a few weeks before.’
Sam looked up, took some deep breaths. There were too many things coming together.
‘I didn’t know she was Luke King’s girlfriend,’ said Sam quietly.
‘Is there any reason why you should have done?’
Sam shook his head slowly, and then asked, ‘Was he ever a suspect?’
Egan thought for a moment, and Sam could tell that he was thinking back. ‘He had an alibi too.’
Sam raised his eyebrows.
‘Your boss,’ continued Egan. ‘He was at dinner with his family, celebrating some land deal Jimmy had organised. Parsons was there.’
Sam turned away and started to pace as he thought about Harry’s involvement, and what he had been told by Terry McKay. And what Luke King had told him. It was all moving fast now, too fast.
‘I think my son’s disappearance is connected with the King family,’ said Sam eventually.
Egan nodded. ‘I know you do. I can tell that.’
‘Are you looking there?’
Egan hesitated. Sam could tell there was more he could
say, but he replied simply, ‘I am not in charge of that investigation.’
Sam looked at the floor, saw that it rippled and moved in front of his eyes. He wasn’t in control, he knew that. He turned to run out of the yard. He wasn’t looking where he was going, and he ran straight into the path of a 1973 Triumph Stag in Calypso Red.
I had to slam the brakes on to avoid Sam Nixon. I stopped just in front of him, his hands resting on the bonnet, a wild look in his eyes.
I put my head out of the window. ‘Sorry about that.’
Sam didn’t respond, he just stared at me through the windscreen.
‘It’s okay, Sam. It’s okay.’ I knew that it wasn’t.
Sam put his head down, his forearms now over the bonnet, so I got out. I glanced at Laura, who had been driving just behind me, and raised my eyebrows. She got out of her car and joined me.
‘What’s going on, Sam?’ I asked.
His eyes looked haunted, his face drained of colour. He didn’t answer.
‘I think Thomas King has something to do with the disappearance of your son,’ I said.
Sam’s eyes started to focus on me, some colour returning to his face. ‘Thomas?’ he asked.
I nodded. ‘Luke’s older brother. He’s a doctor, here in Blackley.’ And then I filled him in on all we had found out over the previous few days, about the dream meetings, about Eric Randle’s paintings, about Jess’s dream diary. He knew some of it, but not the full picture.
‘But Luke King told me he’d done it,’ said Sam, lamely.
I glanced over at Laura, and she looked like she had guessed that response. No comment to questions only ever meant one of three things: guilt, or they’d done something even worse, or they were covering for someone else. I looked back at Sam. ‘It looks like he was covering for his brother.’
And then Sam told me the full story of Terry McKay. ‘I thought it was Luke the family were protecting,’ he said. ‘It must have been Thomas all along. Egan just told me that Harry Parsons alibied the whole family when Debbie Harris was murdered. That must have included Thomas.’
‘And, if Terry was right,’ I added, ‘Luke must have given him the purse to set him up, but they didn’t know about the shoplifting. The story about someone else giving Terry the purse was the back-up story, just in case the police believed him and wanted to use him as a witness. It was Harry who told him what to say.’
I looked round at Laura as she asked, ‘But why kill Debbie Harris?’
It was Sam who answered. ‘She’d broken off her engagement to Luke a few weeks before. Luke’s a pathetic person. Maybe he was hurting, maybe he had said that he wished she was dead. Thomas made it all better.’
‘Healing hands,’ I added.
Laura nodded. When Sam looked confused, Laura said, ‘He’s been leaving calling cards with the children when they are returned. Healing hands.’
Sam looked angry. ‘I want to find Thomas King. I want to be there when you find my son.’
‘We have procedures, Sam, you know that,’ said Laura.
‘Fuck procedures.’
‘Come with me,’ I said. And as he climbed into my car, I said to Laura, ‘I’ll keep an eye on him.’ As I pulled away, I saw that Laura was watching me, her hands on her hips. I knew that she wouldn’t be far behind me.