Spider's Web (12 page)

‘What’s going on, Jim?’

‘I’ll explain when I see you. Now get your arse moving.’

When Jim arrived at the house, Reece was already there. There were no lights on in the house. The driveway was empty. Jim got out of his car, Taser at the ready, and motioned for Reece to follow him.

Quickly and quietly, Jim approached the front door and tried its handle. The door was locked. He moved around the side of the house. The back gate was open. The back door was open too. The wooden frame was splintered around the lock. They padded through a dark little kitchen into a hallway. Jim shone his torch into the living room. Empty. A cordless phone was on the bottom step of the stairs. Seconds ticked away on its screen, indicating a call was in progress. Leaving it untouched, they climbed the stairs. The bathroom door stood ajar. A glance showed no one was in there. Jim gently opened a door to a bedroom cluttered with books and piles of paper. Guessing it was Anna’s room, he moved on to the adjacent door. Beyond the door was a double bed. A figure was snoring softly under the duvet. Relief swept through Jim as he directed his torch at Fiona Young’s sleeping face. She suddenly sat up with a gasp, shielding her eyes. ‘Who are you?’ The question came shrill and tremulous.

‘We’re police,’ said Jim, switching on the landing light and taking out his ID. ‘I’m Chief Inspector Jim Monahan. And this is Detective Inspector Reece Geary.’

‘What are you doing in my house?’

‘Your daughter contacted me. She thought you might be in danger.’

‘Why would she think that? And how did you get in here?’

‘Perhaps it would be best if you got dressed and we talked downstairs, Mrs Young.’

The two men returned downstairs. Jim picked up the phone with a handkerchief and ended the call. ‘Go and knock up the neighbours,’ he told Reece.

Jim waited for Fiona Young in the living room. She appeared after a minute or two in her dressing gown and slippers, her eyes puffy with sleep. ‘So come on, Chief Inspector, out with it. What’s Anna got herself into now?’

‘Hasn’t she told you?’

‘She never tells me anything. She doesn’t like to worry me.’

Jim gave Fiona a very abridged rundown of the case Anna was working on. He made no mention of its connection to her daughter’s abduction. Mainly because he knew Anna wouldn’t want him to. But also because he sensed a brittleness about Fiona that suggested she wouldn’t deal with it well if he did. ‘Is there anyone you could go and stay with for a few days? A friend or relative?’

‘I’m not leaving this house.’

Jim gestured for Fiona to follow him into the kitchen. He pointed at the splintered doorframe. ‘Someone broke in here tonight. It was a warning, and one you should take extremely seriously.’

Fiona’s face pinched with worry. But she crossed her arms and repeated, ‘I’m not leaving this house. I’ve lived here over forty years. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone drive me out.’

Jim saw the same stubborn resolve in Fiona’s eyes that he’d seen in Anna’s, and knew he’d be wasting his time trying to change her mind. ‘In that case I’m going to put a patrol car outside your house.’

Fiona frowned at the prospect, but made no protest. ‘What about my daughter? What are you doing to protect her?’

‘There’s nothing I can do right now. Besides, I don’t think she’d accept protection if I offered it.’

‘Knowing my Anna, I’m sure you’re right. But still, if anything happens to her I’m going to hold you responsible. I get the impression she wouldn’t be involved in this if it wasn’t for you.’

Jim nodded as if to say,
Fair enough
. Looking at Fiona’s careworn face, he felt a tug of guilt at the way he’d used Anna. Fiona had already suffered so much loss. If she lost Anna too, it didn’t bear thinking about what it would do to her.

Shuddering at the night air flowing into the house, she pointed at the back door. ‘What are you going to do about that?’

‘Have you got a hammer and nails?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll have to look in my husband’s…’ Fiona paused a breath and corrected herself. ‘My late husband’s toolbox.’ She went into a small pantry. Gingerly, like she was handling something valuable, she took out a battered metal box. Amongst other things, it contained a hammer and a jar of nails and screws.

‘I’ll nail the door shut for tonight. Tomorrow I’ll send someone round to replace it. But before I touch anything, I’m going to have to call in a SOCO—’

‘A what?’

‘A Scene of Crime Officer. They gather forensic evidence.’

Fiona heaved a sigh. ‘Looks like I’m not going to be getting back to bed anytime soon then. Not that I could sleep if I did.’ Her gaze returned to the door and she shuddered again. ‘How long do you think Anna will be in Manchester for?’

‘Not long.’ It suddenly occurred to Jim that Anna would be waiting on tenterhooks to hear from him. ‘Excuse me a moment.’

He went outside and phoned her. She answered on the first ring and asked anxiously, ‘Is she OK?’

‘She’s fine. Do you want to speak to her?’

‘No. Just tell me what happened.’

‘Someone broke in the back door.’

‘The fuckers!’

‘Listen, Anna, after you speak to Heather Shanks tomorrow I want you to return to Sheffield.’

‘What about Jamal Jackson?’

‘He wasn’t taken to any of the houses. So chances are you’ll get nothing out of him we don’t already know.’

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I won’t learn something that helps me track down Spider.’

‘I’m sorry, Anna, but this has gone far enough. I can’t risk you getting hurt.’

Anna’s voice grew hard with determination. ‘And I’m sorry, Jim, but unless you lock me up, you’re not going to stop me from seeing this thing through. Besides, the last thing we should be doing is backing off. What we should be doing is showing them that if they fuck with us we’ll fuck with them right back.’

‘And how do you propose we do that?’

Anna gave a humourless little grunt that suggested she knew exactly how. ‘I take it you’re going to be keeping a close eye on my mum from now on.’

‘Of course. What are you going to do?’

‘You’ll find out soon enough.’

Anna hung up. Jim stood in thoughtful, frowning silence a moment, before phoning for a SOCO. When he returned inside, Fiona was cradling a mug of tea in the living room. ‘Your daughter’s an extremely stubborn woman,’ he said.

Her lips pulled into a flat smile. ‘She’s always been the same. Once she makes up her mind to do something, there’s no stopping her.’

Jim turned at the sound of footsteps and saw Reece. ‘Any luck?’

Reece shook his head. ‘I’ve spoken to both sets of neighbours. Nobody saw or heard anything.’

Jim wasn’t surprised. Villiers and his accomplices didn’t hire amateurs to do their dirty work. ‘Forensics will be here soon. Not that I expect them to find anything.’

‘Can I have a word before they get here?’ asked Reece.

Jim guessed at once what Reece wanted to have a word about. He followed the big detective into the back garden. ‘You’ve obviously rattled a few cages,’ said Reece. ‘I take it there have been developments.’

‘You take it right.’ In a low voice, Jim brought Reece up to speed on everything that had happened since they’d spoken on Saturday.

Reece blew out an astonished breath. ‘Jesus. Well no one can say putting the names out there didn’t get things moving. Does the DCS know about this Spider’s connection to Jessica—’

Jim made a quick shushing motion. ‘The only people who know about that are you, me and Anna Young. And that’s the way it’s going to stay. At least until I find out what Heather has to say to Anna.’

‘You’re taking a big risk, Jim.’

‘I know,’ he said heavily. ‘But what other choice do I have?’

It didn’t take Anna long to track down Thomas Villiers’ address on the internet, even though his telephone was ex-directory. A small fee bought her access to the most recent electoral roll. Villiers lived in the well-heeled Sheffield suburb of Dore. A Diane Villiers was registered to the same address. His wife, no doubt. The slimy little scumbag probably had kids too. A dog. All that crap. Every trapping of respectability and normality provided another layer of protection between who he appeared to be and who he really was.

Next, Anna looked up Linda Kirby’s phone number. Ever since her daughter Grace’s murder, Linda had been loudly campaigning for the death penalty to be reinstated. She and her supporters had gathered thousands of signatures and marched to 10 Downing Street to present them to the Prime Minister. She made no bones about it. Her ultimate wish was to look into Freddie Harding’s eyes as he drew his last breath. It wasn’t going to happen, of course. The death penalty was an issue no right-minded politician would touch. But that hadn’t deterred her. Anna had spoken to her once at a rally for signatures outside Sheffield City Hall. She’d told her about Jessica’s abduction. Not because she thought Linda would be able to help her, but because it felt good to talk to someone who could even remotely understand how she felt. Linda was a small, timid-looking woman. But she’d spoken with the fervour of a newly converted believer about how prison was too good for men like Freddie Harding, adding conspiratorially, ‘Shall I tell you what I really think, Anna? Even a lethal injection’s too good for filth like him. If it was up to me, I’d do to him what he did to those poor girls. I’d break his bones one by one, gouge out his eyes, pull out his teeth. And when he was finally dead, I’d string him up by his balls for all to see.’

Anna didn’t doubt for a second that Linda had meant what she said. She’d never heard such pure anger as there was in her voice. Her own parents’ anger had been leavened with a heartbreaking sadness. There’d been no sadness in Linda’s voice, only an all-consuming desire for bloody retribution. Instead of destroying Linda, Grace’s murder had remade her in its own brutal image. Anna had spent countless hours wondering what she would do if she ever found Jessica’s abductors. Would she seek Old Testament justice? An eye for an eye. Or would she let the law take its course? The answer depended on her mood. Usually she pictured them rotting in prison. But sometimes in the dead of night, she fantasised about hurting them badly and slowly.

Linda picked up the phone and asked, ‘Who the bloody hell’s this?’

‘It’s Anna Young. We spoke once about my sister Jessica.’

‘Anna Young?’ Linda’s voice softened. ‘Oh yes, I remember. What can I do for you, love?’

‘I’m sorry for waking you, but there’s something I think you ought to know.’ Anna told Linda about Herbert Winstanley’s book and how the authorities had been shielding the names in it from public exposure. She went into particular detail about Thomas Villiers – his connections to Grace’s murderers; where he worked; where he lived.

‘Christ, how could they let him near those kids knowing what they know?’ Linda asked incredulously.

‘I’ve been asking myself that since I found out about the book. As far as I can see, it comes down to two things: who he is and who he knows.’

‘Well that bastard’s going to find out who I am and who I know.’

That same throat-clogging rage was back in Linda’s voice. Anna permitted herself a faint smile of satisfaction at the thought that life was about to get very uncomfortable indeed for Villiers. ‘Do you have internet access?’

‘Yes. I’d never used a computer in my life before Grace was killed. Now I can’t get by without one.’

‘Search for me and Herbert Winstanley. You’ll find the full list of names.’

‘Will do. And I’ll let you know what I’m going to do about Villiers.’ Linda drew in a deep breath – a breath that said she’d been ready for this moment for a long time. ‘I’ll tell you this right now, Anna. We’re going to show all of them we won’t take any more. Enough is enough.’

Anna said goodbye, cracked open the curtains and sat watching for the dawn. Tiredness burnt behind her eyes. Not the tiredness of sleep. There was too much adrenalin coursing through her for that. It was the bone-tiredness of years of searching, years of frustration and pain. Linda was right, enough was fucking enough.

7

Nine a.m. seemed to take forever to arrive. The minute the bank opened, Anna hurried inside and withdrew the money Jim had transferred to her account. She fought her way through the morning traffic back to Heather’s maisonette and hammered on its door. Kyle appeared in boxer shorts and the same vest he’d been wearing the previous day. He scowled blearily at Anna. ‘What the fuck do you want?’

‘What do you think?’ Anna patted her coat pocket. ‘I’ve got what we agreed on.’

‘You can keep your money. We don’t want it.’

Anna frowned. ‘But we had a deal. Three thousand for the information.’

Kyle’s lips curled up over his stained teeth. ‘Fuck your three thousand. I wouldn’t give you the shit from my arse for that much.’

Anna saw the gleam in Kyle’s eyes and guessed immediately what had happened – someone had come in with a far superior offer. Coupled with the events of the night, it added up to one obvious conclusion – the police department was as leaky as a broken tap. She craned her neck to see past Kyle. ‘Heather! It’s Anna Young.’

‘Keep your voice down. You’ll wake Leah. She’s not feeling well.’

Ignoring him, Anna continued, ‘Don’t do this to yourself, Heather. No matter how much they’re paying you, it’s not worth it.’

Kyle thrust his face close to hers. ‘One more word from you and I’m gonna fetch the dog.’

Her nose wrinkling at the stink of his morning breath, Anna held her ground just long enough to let him know she wasn’t afraid. Then she walked away.

‘And don’t come back here, bitch,’ he shouted after her.

When she was out of Kyle’s sight, Anna phoned Jim and said, ‘Someone got to Heather. She’s refusing to talk to me.’

‘Shit.’ Jim’s voice was sharp with disappointment. ‘And we were so close too. Do you think you can change her mind?’

‘I don’t know. If I could get her away from that arsehole she lives with, maybe I could talk her around. But that would take time.’

‘Might as well give it a shot. What else have you got to do?’