The Keeper (28 page)

Lawlor twisted his head so he could talk and breathe, trying to spit out the pieces of grass that stuck to the saliva gluing his lips, his voice broken and disjointed. ‘I … I didn’t know … who, who you … were, guv’nor.’

‘Bullshit,’ Sean panted. ‘You may not know who I am, but you know what I am.’

‘I didn’t, guv’nor, honest. I thought you was … vigilantes. I swear, if I’d known … you was Old Bill, I’d never have run.’

‘Fucking bollocks. You ran for a reason!’

‘No, guv’nor. I’m clean, I swear on my fucking eyes. I’ve been clean since I got out.’

‘Then why d’you miss your bail signing?’

‘What?’

‘Your bailing signing and your Sex Offenders’ Register appointment?’ Sean repeated, seething with impatience, the excitement of the chase still pumping through his body.

‘I was drunk. That’s all. I went out and I got pissed and missed my bail signing. After that I knew I’d be wanted so I tried to keep out the way. That’s all, I promise. I swear.’

‘You’re lying,’ Sean spat at him. ‘You missed them because you had better things to do, didn’t you?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t lie to me. You were searching for them, weren’t you, looking for the right ones?’

‘I’m clean. I’ve done nothing.’

‘And when you found them, you took them, didn’t you? You took them, you raped them and you killed them?’

Lawlor looked as confused as he did scared, his head furiously shaking in disagreement with everything Sean was saying. ‘I don’t have a fucking clue what you’re talking about. You’re fucking crazy.’

‘Are you working with someone else?’ Sean persisted. ‘Does he take them for you and then you do the rest? Don’t you have the guts to take them yourself?’ He pressed Lawlor’s face hard into the grass, pulling one of his arms back and twisting it until he grimaced and groaned with pain while he looked all around the surrounding area, searching for any CCTV cameras British Transport Police might have deployed in an attempt to catch vandals and perverts. Once he decided there were none, he rolled Lawlor on to his back and gripped him around the neck one-handed, tightly enough to make him wheeze as he tried to draw breath. ‘I asked you a question.’

‘You’re mad,’ Lawlor struggled to say. ‘You’ve got the wrong man.’

‘Where do you keep them, once you’ve taken them? Where do you keep them?’

‘Keep who?’

Sean looked at the silent, still darkness around them. They were alone. He squeezed Lawlor’s neck harder and raised his other hand high and to the side. Resisting the temptation to turn his open hand into a clenched fist, he brought it down with a violent swipe into Lawlor’s face, the sound of the slap echoing in the empty night. ‘Answer my questions,’ he hissed.

Lawlor struggled to escape, but Sean’s powerful grip held him in place like a live fish waiting to be gutted. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Another slap resounded along the grass bank. ‘Who are you? What do you want?’ Lawlor screamed as loud as he could through his constricted airway.

‘Answers,’ Sean told him.

‘I don’t have any.’

‘Where’s Louise Russell?’

‘Who?’ Another slap twisted his face.

‘Who has her?’

‘Please, wait.’ Both men stopped for a few silent seconds as Lawlor searched for air and answers. ‘You’re talking about the man who’s already killed one, right? It was on
Crimewatch
, yeah?’

‘Yes.’ Sean spoke through angry gritted teeth, his hand ready to strike Lawlor’s sweating, reddening face. ‘You know something. Tell me what you know.’

‘That’s the point – I don’t know anything. Nobody knows anything.’

Sean’s face contorted in confusion. ‘
Nobody
knows anything – what does that mean?’

‘This one’s working alone. Keeping himself to himself, saying nothing, sharing nothing. No Facebook, no Twitter, no YouTube. He doesn’t want to share. This is just for him.’

‘Who would he share with?’

‘You’re Old Bill, you know. We meet in prison, on the segregation wings. When we recognize each other, we share. But not this one. He gives us nothing and nobody recognizes his work. No one knows him, I swear. You’re looking for someone who’s never been caught.’

‘Or someone who’s only just started,’ he said to himself, but Lawlor heard him.

‘Yes,’ Lawlor whispered excitedly. ‘Yes. Someone new. Someone who’s only just started. Of course. Of course. How did you know?’

‘What?’ Sean asked, distracted by his own thoughts.

‘How did you know?’

‘Shut the fuck up.’ Sean felt his hand tightening around Lawlor’s throat, the pain and panic spreading across his face, the power to kill or spare him totally within his control. It was a good feeling, potent and thrilling. Lawlor’s hands clutched at his wrists, trying to release the grip on his throat, but it was too strong. His legs began to kick and splay, his body twisting and writhing, but Sean fell on his chest with one knee, sinking deep into his diaphragm.

Then sounds came, voices calling to each other from the grassy bank, torchlight stroking the gently swaying uncut grass, dark figures approaching. Lawlor’s eyes darted between the descending shadows and Sean’s black, lifeless eyes, as if trying to draw his attention to the only thing that could save him. Finally Sean’s subconscious rage acknowledged the fact they had been disturbed by voices he recognized – Donnelly, Zukov and others too. His fingers began to loosen around Lawlor’s thin neck, turning his lips from a whitish-blue to pale pink, flecks of spittle spiralling through the air as he coughed his lungs full, made silver by the light from the closing torches.

Sean rolled him over on to his stomach and pulled his arms behind his back, smoothly wrapping the handcuffs around his wrists. ‘Get up,’ he ordered and hoisted him to his feet.

Donnelly was the first to reach them, years of experience telling him something was wrong. He looked from Sean to Lawlor and back. ‘Everything OK?’

‘Everything’s fine,’ said Sean, shoving Lawlor towards him. ‘Arrest him for the abduction and murder of Karen Green and the abduction and false imprisonment of Louise Russell.’

‘Any evidence?’

‘Yes,’ Sean replied. ‘He ran.’

‘He’s gone fucking mad,’ Lawlor said, speaking loud enough to ensure everyone heard him. ‘He tried to kill me – look at my fucking neck. He was gonna kill me.’

‘Shut up and get moving,’ growled Donnelly. ‘You’ve only got yourself to blame. You know better than to run from the police.’

‘But I ain’t done nothing.’

‘Well, well,’ Donnelly said, ‘an innocent man! And I thought I was the last of that dying breed.’

‘Whatever,’ Lawlor replied. ‘Do what you got to do, just keep that maniac away from me. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, but keep him away from me.’

Sally and Anna watched as Donnelly frogmarched Lawlor towards the waiting cars, flanked by DCs O’Neil and McGowan, Sean and Zukov walking behind them. The streetlights made them all look jaundiced. Donnelly manhandled Lawlor into the back of his car, pushing the top of his head down with his hand and slamming the door. Sally noticed the serious faces, the usual signs of relief and joviality after an arrest conspicuous by their absence.

‘Everything all right?’ she asked Donnelly.

‘Aye,’ he answered. ‘We eventually found them on the other side of the railway embankment. Everyone’s OK.’

‘That’s not what I meant.’ Donnelly glanced towards Sean and rolled his eyes. She grabbed his forearm. ‘I should have been there. I should have come with you, not stayed here hiding with the cars.’

‘No, you shouldn’t have,’ he insisted. ‘You’re not ready yet. Don’t try to rush it, you’ll do more damage than good. Take your time. It’ll come.’

‘All the same—’

‘Sally,’ Sean interrupted her, ‘I want you, Maggie and Stan to spin his bedsit. If you find anything interesting, get hold of forensics and keep me informed. Dave, you and Paulo get this idiot back to Peckham and book him into custody. I’ll interview him later.’ Sally and Donnelly nodded their understanding.

‘I’d like to come with you,’ Anna said, appearing at his shoulder. ‘To help you to prepare and do the interview.’

‘Out of the question,’ he replied. ‘Go with Sally and search the bedsit if you want to be involved. Look through his things and see what you can learn.’

‘But the letter from the assistant commissioner clearly states—’ Sean held his hand up to stop her.

‘I don’t have time to discuss this with the committee,’ he snapped. ‘We can talk about it later.’ He turned his back on her and walked to his car. She took a step after him, but Sally caught her arm and gently pulled her back, shaking her head.

‘Let it go,’ she said softly. ‘Now is not the time to fight this battle.’

‘Is he always this rude?’

‘Only if he likes you,’ Sally told her.

Deborah Thomson’s eyes opened slowly before surrendering to the fog of chloroform and flickering shut, then bursting wide open again as her brain deciphered the hazy images it had been sent, recognizing danger and the need to fire the body alert. Her head and torso jerked in all directions, desperately trying to make sense of the near-darkness that surrounded her, her eyes growing increasingly accustomed to the gloom. She felt the mattress beneath her and the duvet on top of her rubbing against bare skin. She slid a hand tentatively under the duvet and confirmed her worst fears, that her clothes had been taken. Choking back tears of panic, she squinted into the darkness and cocked her head to one side, listening for a sound, any sound. A shuffling noise somewhere in the room made her freeze. She tried to focus on the source of the sound, but something was obscuring her view. Slowly and carefully she stretched out a hand, gently waving it from side to side, as if the thing she searched for was more ethereal than solid, its distance away impossible to judge in the poor light. Finally her fingers felt the unmistakeable cold of metal. Her fingers coiled around thin steel as her face came closer to investigate, hundreds of small squares spreading left and right, leading to more walls of squares and above her the same terrible pattern. The fingers of her other hand grabbed at the wire and gripped it hard as she realized what the squares were, that she was locked in a cage.

Suddenly she found it difficult to breathe, the enforced confinement inducing claustrophobia for the first time in her life. She began to shake the walls of her prison, praying the structure would collapse and free her, but all she did was prove to herself the solidity of her surrounds and the futility of attempting escape. She released the wire and retreated to the corner of the cage, pulling the duvet over her nakedness, giving in to tears of despair, until a voice turned her to stone.

‘Don’t be frightened,’ it said, ‘you’re not alone.’ It was the voice of a woman, quiet and gentle, unthreatening. ‘My name’s Louise. What’s yours?’ She couldn’t answer, her fear now mixed with shock and bewilderment. ‘It’s OK,’ the voice explained. ‘He can’t hear us, or at least I don’t think he can. What’s your name?’

‘Deborah. My name’s Deborah. Why are we here? Who is he?’ Her breaths were coming fast and sharp as she tried to control her anxiety.

‘I don’t know,’ Louise confessed, ‘but he’s dangerous. I think he may have …’

‘May have what?’

‘Nothing. It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that our only hope of getting out of here is by working together.’

‘How?’ Deborah asked, barely able to comprehend the conversation she was having with a stranger she couldn’t even see properly. Two women locked in animal cages planning their salvation.

‘At first he’ll treat you well.’

‘You call this
well
?’ she snapped.

Louise understood her anger and ignored her reaction. ‘He’ll let you out, to use the toilet and wash. After a few days he’ll even give you clean clothes. Listen, when he comes down here, I think he leaves the door to wherever we are open. It leads outside, I’m sure it does. I’ve seen the sunlight and smelled the fresh air. When he gets you out of your cage—’

‘This isn’t
my
cage,’ she snapped again, ‘this is
his
cage. I’m locked in his cage.’

‘I’m sorry. You’re right. When he lets you out of his cage, that’s when you have to do it.’

‘Do what?’

‘He’s not very big or strong. He’ll give you a tray with food on. Use that tray to attack him and then get the key to my cage from his tracksuit trouser pocket and let me out. Together we can overpower him and lock him in his own damn cage and escape – call the police and lead them straight to the bastard.’

Deborah shook her head involuntarily. ‘You’re mad. It’ll never work and then it’ll be worse for me.’ She squinted as the other woman began to come into focus, her similarity to herself painfully obvious, as was the fact she wore only her underwear and had no mattress or covers. She looked like she had dark patches on her face.

‘Listen to me,’ Louise urged her. ‘I’m sorry, but you need to know. There was another, before me. Her name was Karen Green. By the time he brought me here she already looked like I do now. I sat in this cage and I watched him beat her and rape her – and not just once. Then the night before he brought you, he took her away. She never came back.’

‘Oh my God, no. I read something about her in the papers. They found her in the woods. She’d been strangled. He killed her. I have to get out of here. I have to get out of here now.’

‘You can’t,’ Louise insisted, her voice raised above Deborah’s increasing panic. ‘Not yet. We have to work together.’

‘No. I’ll do what he wants. I’ll make him think I like him,’ she argued, ‘and he’ll let me out of here and then when I see a chance I’ll get away from him. He’s already killed somebody. If I attack him, he’ll kill me too.’

‘Look at me,’ Louise insisted. ‘I’ve tried all that, please believe me, I’ve tried, but it makes no difference. I am what you will become. Nothing you do can change that.’

‘No.’ Deborah refused to accept it. ‘There must be a better way.’

‘There isn’t,’ Louise answered, ‘and unless you believe me, unless you do what I tell you, we’re both going to die. He’ll kill us both.’

Shortly after eleven p.m. Sean and Sally prepared to begin the interview of Jason Lawlor. Sean had wanted a woman present to try and make Lawlor as uncomfortable as possible, so that he could read the signs he would be unwittingly sending – guilt, remorse, excitement, ambivalence. Innocence? Sally’s heart had dropped when he’d asked her, but she’d managed not to show it.