Aftermath (15 page)

‘Don’t worry,’ said Janet. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘I’m sure you haven’t. Tell me about it.’

As Janet Taylor spoke, sounding rather bored and detached, as if she had been through this all too many times already, or as if she were recounting someone else’s story, Annie watched her body language. Janet shifted in her chair often, twisted her hands on her lap, and when she got to the real horror, she folded her arms and her voice became flatter, lacking expression. Annie let her go on, making notes on points she thought relevant. Janet didn’t so much come to a definite end as trail off after she said she had settled to wait for the ambulance, cradling PC Morrisey’s head on her lap and feeling the warm blood seep through on her thighs. As she spoke about this, her eyebrows rose and wrinkled the centre of her forehead, and tears formed in her eyes.

Annie let the silence stretch for a while after Janet had fallen silent, then she asked if Janet would like a drink. She asked for water and Annie brought her some from the fountain. The room was hot and Annie got some for herself, too.

‘Just a couple of things, Janet, then I’ll leave you alone to write your statement.’

Janet yawned. She put her hand to her mouth but didn’t apologize. Normally Annie would have taken a yawn as a sign of fear or nervousness, but Janet Taylor had good reason to be tired, so she didn’t make too much of it on this occasion.

‘What were you thinking about while it was happening?’ Annie asked.

‘Thinking? I’m not sure I was thinking at all. Just reacting.’

‘Did you remember your training?’

Janet Taylor laughed, but it was forced. ‘Training doesn’t prepare you for something like
that
.’

‘What about your baton training?’

‘I didn’t have to
think
about that. It was instinctive.’

‘You were feeling threatened.’

‘Damn right I was. He was killing Dennis and he was going to kill me next. He’d already killed the girl on the bed.’

‘How did you know she was dead?’

‘What?’

‘Kimberley Myers. How did you know she was dead? You said it all happened so fast you barely caught a glimpse of her before the attack.’

‘I . . . I suppose I just assumed. I mean she was lying there naked on the bed with a yellow rope around her neck. Her eyes were open. It was a reasonable assumption to make.’

‘Okay,’ said Annie. ‘So you never thought of yourself as saving her, as rescuing her?’

‘No. It was what was happening to Dennis that concerned me.’

‘And what you thought was going to happen to you next?’

‘Yes.’ Janet sipped some more water. A little of it dripped down her chin onto the front of her grey T-shirt, but she didn’t seem to notice.

‘So you got your baton out. What next?’

‘I told you. He came at me with this crazy look in his eye.’

‘And he lashed out at you with his machete?’

‘Yes. I deflected the blow with my baton, the side against my arm, like they taught us. And then when he’d swung, before he could bring it back into position again I swung out and hit him.’

‘Where did the first blow land?’

‘On his head.’

‘Where exactly on his head?’

‘I don’t know. I wasn’t concerned about that.’

‘But you wanted to put him out of commission, didn’t you?’

‘I wanted to stop him from killing me.’

‘So you’d want to hit him somewhere effective?’

‘Well, I’m right-handed, so I suppose I must have hit him on the left side of his head, somewhere around the temple.’

‘Did he go down?’

‘No, but he was dazed. He couldn’t get his machete in position to strike again.’

‘Where did you hit him next?’

‘The wrist, I think.’

‘To disarm him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you succeed?’

‘Yes.’

‘What did you do next?’

‘I kicked the machete into the corner.’

‘What did Payne do?’

‘He was holding his wrist and cursing me.’

‘You’d hit him once on the left temple and once on the wrist by this time?’

‘That’s right.’

‘What did you do next?’

‘I hit him again.’

‘Where?’

‘On the head.’

‘Why?’

‘To incapacitate him.’

‘Was he standing at this point?’

‘Yes. He’d been on his knees trying to get the machete, but he got up and came at me.’

‘He was unarmed now?’

‘Yes, but he was still bigger and stronger than me. And he had this insane look in his eyes, as if he had strength to spare.’

‘So you hit him again?’

‘Yes.’

‘Same spot?’

‘I don’t know. I used my baton in the same way. So yes, I suppose so, unless he was half turned away.’

‘Was he?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘But it’s possible? I mean, it was you who suggested it.’

‘I suppose it’s possible, but I don’t see why.’

‘You didn’t hit him on the
back
of his head at any point?’

‘I don’t think so.’

Janet had started to sweat now. Annie could see beads of it around her hairline and a dark stain spreading slowly under her arms. She didn’t want to put the poor woman through much more, but she had her job to do and she could be hard when she needed to be. ‘What happened after you hit Payne on the head a second time?’

‘Nothing.’

‘What do you mean, nothing?’

‘Nothing. He kept coming.’

‘So you hit him again.’

‘Yes. I took the baton in both hands, like a cricket bat, so I could hit him harder.’

‘He had nothing to defend himself with at this time, right?’

‘Only his arms.’

‘But he didn’t raise them to ward off the blow?’

‘He was holding his wrist. I think it was broken. I heard something crack.’

‘So you had free rein to hit him as hard as you liked?’

‘He kept coming at me.’

‘You mean he kept moving towards you?’

‘Yes, and calling me names.’

‘What sort of names?’

‘Filthy names. And Dennis was groaning, bleeding. I wanted to go to him, to see if I could help, but I couldn’t do anything until Payne stopped moving.’

‘You didn’t feel you could restrain him with handcuffs at this point?’

‘No way. I’d already hit him two or three times, but it seemed to have no effect. He kept coming. If I’d gone in close and he’d got a hold of me he’d have strangled the life out of me.’

‘Even with his broken wrist?’

‘Yes. He could have got his arm across my throat.’

‘Okay.’ Annie paused to make some notes on the pad in front of her. She could almost smell Janet Taylor’s fear, and she wasn’t sure if it was residual, from the cellar, or because of present circumstances. She drew out the note-making process until Janet started shifting and fidgeting, then she asked, ‘How many times do you think you hit him in all?’

Janet turned her head to one side. ‘I don’t know. I wasn’t counting. I was fighting for my life, defending myself against a maniac.’

‘Five times? Six times?’

‘I told you.
I don’t remember
. As many times as I needed. To make him stop coming. He just wouldn’t stop coming at me.’ Janet broke into sobs and Annie let her cry. It was the first time emotion had broken through the shock and it would do her good. After a minute or so, Janet collected herself and sipped some more water. She seemed embarrassed to have broken down in front of a colleague.

‘I’ve almost finished now, Janet,’ said Annie. ‘Then I’ll leave you be.’

‘Okay.’

‘You managed to get him to stay down, didn’t you?’

‘Yes. He fell against the wall and slid down.’

‘Was he still moving then?’

‘Not very much. He was sort of twitching and breathing heavily. There was blood on his mouth.’

‘Final question, Janet: did you hit him again after he went down?’

Her eyebrows shot together in fear. ‘No. I don’t think so.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I handcuffed him to the pipe.’

‘And then?’

‘Then I went to help Dennis.’

‘Are you sure you didn’t hit him again after he went down? Just to make sure?’

Janet looked away. ‘I told you. I don’t think so. Why would I?’

Annie leaned forward and rested her arms on the desk. ‘
Try
to remember, Janet.’

But Janet shook her head. ‘It’s no good. I don’t remember.’

‘Okay,’ said Annie, getting to her feet. ‘Interview over.’ She pushed a statement sheet and a pen in front of Janet. ‘Write out what you’ve told me in as much detail as you can remember.’

Janet grasped the pen. ‘What happens next?’

When you’ve finished, love, go home and have a stiff drink. Hell, have two.’

Janet managed a weak but genuine smile as Annie left and shut the door behind her.

•

DCs Bowmore and Singh looked shifty when they walked into Banks’s temporary Millgarth office, as well they might, he thought.

‘Sit down,’ he said.

They sat. ‘What is it, sir?’ asked DC Singh attempting lightness. ‘Got a job for us?’

Banks leaned back in his chair and linked his hands behind his head. ‘In a manner of speaking,’ he said. ‘If you call sharpening pencils and emptying the wastepaper baskets a job.’

Their jaws dropped. ‘Sir—’ Bowmore began, but Banks held up his hand.

‘A car number-plate ending in KWT. Ring any bells?’

‘Sir?’

‘KWT. Kathryn Wendy Thurlow.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Singh. ‘It’s the number Bradford CID got in the Samantha Foster investigation.’

‘Bingo,’ said Banks. ‘Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t Bradford send us copies of all their files on the Samantha Foster case when this team was set up?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Including the name of everyone in the area who owned a dark car with the number-plate ending in KWT.’

‘Over a thousand, sir.’

‘Over a thousand. Indeed. Bradford CID interviewed them all. And guess who’s among that thousand.’

‘Terence Payne, sir,’ answered Singh again.

‘Bright lad,’ said Banks. ‘Now, when Bradford CID were working on that case, did they have any links to any similar crimes?’

‘No, sir,’ answered Bowmore this time. ‘There was the girl went missing from the New Year’s party in Roundhay Park, but there was no reason to link them together at the time.’

‘Right,’ said Banks. ‘So why do you think I issued an action shortly after this task force was set up to go over all the evidence on the previous cases, including the disappearance of Samantha Foster?’

‘Because you thought there was a link, sir,’ said DC Singh.

‘Not just me,’ said Banks. ‘But, yes, three girls, as it was then. Then four. Then five. The possibility of a link was becoming stronger and stronger. Now guess who was assigned to go over the evidence in the Samantha Foster case.’

Singh and Bowmore looked at one another, then frowned and looked at Banks. ‘We were, sir,’ they said as one.

‘Including re-interviewing the list of car owners Bradford CID got from the DVLA.’

‘Over a thousand, sir.’

‘Indeed,’ said Banks, ‘but am I correct in assuming that you had plenty of help, that the action was split up and that the letter “P” was among those alphabetically assigned to you? Because that’s what it says in my files. P for Payne.’

‘There were still a lot to go, sir. We haven’t got around to them all yet.’

‘You haven’t got around to them yet? This was at the beginning of April. Over a month ago. You’ve been dragging your feet a bit, haven’t you?’

‘It’s not as if it was the only action assigned us, sir,’ said Bowmore.

‘Look,’ said Banks, ‘I don’t want any excuses. For one reason or another, you failed to re-interview Terence Payne.’

‘But it wouldn’t have made any difference, sir,’ Bowmore argued. ‘I mean, Bradford CID didn’t exactly mark him down as their number one suspect, did they? What was he going to tell us that he didn’t tell them? He wasn’t going to decide to confess just because we went to talk to him, was he?’

Banks ran his hand over his hair and muttered a silent curse under his breath. He was not a natural authoritarian – far from it – and he hated this part of the job, dishing out bollockings, having been on the receiving end of plenty himself, but if anyone ever did, these two prize pillocks deserved the worst he could give. ‘Is this supposed to be an example of you using your initiative?’ he said. ‘Because if it is, you’d have been better advised to stick to procedure and follow orders.’

‘But, sir,’ Singh said, ‘he was a schoolteacher. Newly married. Nice house. We
did
read over all the statements.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Banks, shaking his head. ‘Am I missing something here?’

‘What do you mean, sir?’

‘Well, I’m not aware that Dr Fuller had given us any sort of profile of the person we were looking for at this point.’

DC Singh grinned. ‘Hasn’t given us much of anything when you get right down to it, has she, sir?’

‘So what made you think you could rule out a recently married schoolteacher with a nice house?’

Singh’s mouth opened and shut like a fish’s. Bowmore looked down at his shoes.

‘Well?’ Banks repeated. ‘I’m waiting.’

‘Look, sir,’ said Singh, ‘I’m sorry but we just hadn’t got around to him yet.’

‘Have you talked to
any
of the people on your list?’

‘A couple, sir,’ muttered Singh. ‘The ones Bradford CID had marked down as possibles. There was one bloke had a previous for flashing, but he had a solid alibi for Leanne Wray and Melissa Horrocks. We checked that out, sir.’

‘So when you’d nothing better to do, you’d fill in a bit of overtime by ticking a name or two off the list, names that Bradford CID had put question marks beside. Is that it?’

‘That’s not fair, sir,’ Bowmore argued.

‘Not fair. I’ll tell you what’s not bloody fair, DC Bowmore. It’s not bloody fair that at least five girls that we know of so far have most likely died at the hands of Terence Payne. That’s what’s not fair.’

‘But he wouldn’t have admitted it to us, sir,’ Singh protested.

‘You’re supposed to be detectives, aren’t you? Look, let me put it simply. If you’d gone around to Payne’s house when you were supposed to, say last month, then one or two more girls might not have died.’