Aftermath (53 page)

Banks began to feel that the whole thing was just too damn familiar, standing out there on the moors with his jacket flapping around him as men in white coveralls uncovered a body. Then he remembered Harold Steadman, the local historian they had found buried under a similar drystone wall below Crow Scar. That had been only his second case in Eastvale, back when the kids were still at school and he and Sandra were happily married, yet it seemed centuries ago now. He wondered what on earth a drystone wall was doing up here anyway, then realized it had probably marked the end of someone’s property long ago, property that had now gone to moorland, overgrown with heather and gorse. The elements had done their work on the wall, and nobody had any interest in repairing it.

Stone by stone, the body was uncovered. As soon as he saw the blonde hair, Banks knew it was Leanne Wray. She was wearing the clothes she had gone missing in – jeans, white Nike trainers, T-shirt and a light suede jacket – and that was something in Blair’s favour, Banks thought. Though there was some decomposition and evidence of insect and small animal activity – a missing finger on her right hand, for example – the cool weather had kept her from becoming a complete skeleton. In fact, despite the splitting of the skin to expose the muscle and fat on her left cheek, Banks was able to recognize Leanne’s face from the photographs he had seen.

When the body was completely uncovered, everyone stood back as if they were at a funeral paying their last respects before the interment rather than at an exhumation. The moor was silent but for the wind whistling and groaning among the stones like lost souls. Mick Blair was crying, Banks noticed. Either that or the chill wind was making his eyes water.

‘Seen enough, Mick?’ he asked.

Mick sobbed, then abruptly turned away and vomited noisily and copiously into the gorse.

Banks’s mobile rang as he turned away to go back to his car. It was Stefan Nowak and he sounded excited. ‘Alan?’

‘What is it, Stefan? Identified the sixth victim?’

‘No. But I thought you’d like to know immediately. We’ve found Payne’s camcorder.’

‘Tell me where,’ said Banks, ‘and I’ll be with you as fast as I possibly can.’

Maggie was tired when her train pulled into Leeds station around nine o’clock that evening, half an hour late owing to a cow in a tunnel outside Wakefield. Now she had an inkling of why the British complained so much about their trains.

There was a long queue at the taxi rank and Maggie only had a light hold-all to carry, so she decided to walk around the corner to Boar Lane and catch a bus. There were plenty of them that stopped within a short walk of The Hill. It was a pleasant evening, no sign of rain here, and there were still plenty of people on the streets. The bus soon came and she sat downstairs near the back. Two elderly women sat in front of her, just come from the bingo, one with hair that looked like a sort of blue haze sprinkled with glitter. Her perfume irritated Maggie’s nose and made her sneeze, so she moved further back.

It was a familiar journey by now, and Maggie spent most of it reading another story in the new Alice Munro paperback she had bought in Charing Cross Road. She had also bought the perfect present for Lucy. It nestled in its little blue box in her hold-all. It was an odd piece of jewellery and had immediately caught her eye. Hanging on a thin silver chain was a circular silver disc about the size of a ten-pence piece. Inside the circle, made by a snake swallowing its own tail, was an image of the phoenix rising. Maggie hoped that Lucy would like and appreciate the sentiment.

The bus turned the last corner. Maggie rang the bell and got off near the top of The Hill. The streets were quiet and the western sky was smeared with the reds and purples of sunset. There was a slight chill in the air now, Maggie noticed, giving a little shiver. She saw Mrs Toth, Claire’s mother, crossing The Hill with some fish and chips wrapped in newspaper and said hello, then turned to the steps.

She fumbled for her keys as she made her way up the dark steps overhung with shrubbery. It was hard to see her way. A perfect place for an ambush, she thought, then wished she hadn’t. Bill’s telephone call still weighed on her mind.

The house seemed to be in darkness. Perhaps Lucy was out? Maggie doubted it. Then she got past the bushes and noticed a flickering light coming from the master bedroom. She was watching television. For a moment, Maggie felt the uncharitable wish that she had the house to herself. The knowledge that there was someone in her bedroom bothered her. But she had told Lucy she could watch television up there if she wanted, and she could hardly just march in and kick her out, tired as she was. Perhaps they should change rooms if Lucy wanted to watch television all the time? Maggie would be quite happy in the small bedroom for a few days.

She turned the key in the lock and went inside, then put down her bag and hung up her jacket before heading upstairs to tell Lucy she had decided to come back early. As she glided upstairs on the thick pile carpet she could hear sounds from the television but couldn’t make out what they were. It sounded like somebody shouting. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, so without even thinking to knock Maggie simply pushed it open and walked in. Lucy lay sprawled on the bed naked. Well, that wasn’t too much of a surprise after this morning’s display, Maggie thought. But when she turned to see what was on television she didn’t want to believe her eyes.

At first she thought it was just a porn movie, though why Lucy should be watching something like that and where she had got it from were beyond her, then she noticed the home-made quality, the makeshift lighting. It was some sort of cellar, and there was a girl who appeared to be tied to a bed. A man stood beside her playing with himself and shouting obscenities. Maggie recognized him. A woman lay with her head between the girl’s legs and in the split second it took Maggie to register all this, the woman turned, licked her lips and grinned mischievously at the camera.

Lucy.

‘Oh, no!’ Maggie said, turning to Lucy, who was looking at her now with those dark, impenetrable eyes. Maggie put her hand to her mouth. She felt sick. Sick and afraid. She turned to leave but heard a sudden movement behind her, then felt a splitting pain at the back of her head and the world exploded.

•

The pond was gathering the evening light by the time Banks got there after taking Mick Blair back to Eastvale, making sure Ian Scott and Sarah Francis were under lock and key and picking up Jenny Fuller on his way out of town. Winsome and Sergeant Hatchley could take care of things at Eastvale until tomorrow morning.

The colours shimmered on the water’s surface like an oil slick and the ducks, having noticed so much human activity, were keeping a polite and safe distance, and no doubt wondering where the expected chunks of bread had got to. The Panasonic Super 8 camcorder lay, still attached to its tripod, on a piece of cloth on the bank. DS Stefan Nowak and DCI Ken Blackstone had stayed with it until Banks could get there.

‘Are you sure it’s the one?’ Banks asked Ken Blackstone.

Blackstone nodded. ‘One of our enterprising young DCs succeeded in tracking down the branch where Payne bought it. He paid cash for it, on the third of March last year. The serial number checks out.’

‘Any tapes?’

‘One in the camera,’ said Stefan. ‘Ruined.’

‘No chance of restoration?’

‘All the king’s horses . . .’

‘Only the one? That’s all?’

Stefan nodded. ‘Believe me, the men went over every inch of the place.’ He gestured to take in the area of the pond. ‘If any tapes had been dumped here, we’d have found them by now.’

‘So where are they?’ Banks asked nobody in particular.

‘If you want my guess,’ said Stefan, ‘I’d say whoever chucked the camcorder in the lake dubbed them onto VHS. There’s some loss of quality, but it’s the only way you can watch them on a regular VCR, without the camcorder.’

Banks nodded. ‘Makes sense to me. Better take it to Millgarth and lock it up in the property room, though what good it’s going to do us now, I don’t know.’

Stefan bent to pick up the camera, wrapping it carefully in the cloth, as if it were a newborn baby. ‘You never know.’

Banks noticed the pub sign about a hundred yards away: the Woodcutter’s. It was a chain pub, that much he could tell even from a distance, but it was all there was in sight. ‘It’s been a long day and I haven’t had my tea yet,’ he said to Blackstone and Jenny after Stefan had driven off to Millgarth. ‘Why don’t we have a drink and toss a few ideas around?’

‘You’ll get no objection from me,’ said Blackstone.

‘Jenny?’

Jenny smiled. ‘Not much choice, have I? I came in your car, remember? But count me in.’

They were soon settled at a corner table in the almost empty pub, which Banks found to his delight was still serving food. He ordered a beef burger and chips along with a pint of bitter. The jukebox wasn’t so loud that they couldn’t hear themselves talk, but it was loud enough to mask their conversation from any nearby tables.

‘So what have we got?’ Banks asked when he had his burger in front of him.

‘A useless camcorder, by the looks of it,’ said Blackstone.

‘But what does it mean?’

‘It means that someone – Payne, presumably – chucked it away.’

‘Why?’

‘Search me.’

‘Come on, Ken, we can do better than this.’

Blackstone smiled. ‘Sorry, it’s been a long day for me, too.’

‘It’s an interesting question, though,’ said Jenny. ‘Why? And when?’

‘Well, it has to have been before PCs Taylor and Morrisey entered the cellar,’ said Banks.

‘But Payne had a captive, remember,’ said Blackstone. ‘Kimberley Myers. Why on earth would he ditch his camera when he was doing exactly the sort of things we assume he liked to videotape? And what did he do with the dubbed VHS tapes, if Stefan’s right about that?’

‘I can’t answer those questions,’ Jenny said, ‘but I can offer another way of looking at them.’

‘I think I know what you’re getting at,’ said Banks.

‘You do?’

‘Uh-huh. Lucy Payne.’ He took a bite of his beef burger. Not bad, he thought, but he was so hungry he would have eaten just about anything by then.

Jenny nodded slowly. ‘Why have we still been assuming that this video business was all down to Terence Payne when we’ve been investigating Lucy as a possible partner in crime all along? Especially after what Laura and Keith told me about Lucy’s past and what that young prostitute told Alan about Lucy’s sexual proclivities. I mean, doesn’t it make sense, psychologically, that she was just as involved as he was? Remember, the girls were killed in exactly the same way as Kathleen Murray: ligature strangulation.’

‘Are you saying that
she
killed them?’ Blackstone asked.

‘Not necessarily. But if what Keith and Laura say is true, then Lucy might have seen herself acting as a deliverer, the way it appears she did with Kathleen.’

‘A mercy killing? But you said earlier she killed Kathleen out of jealousy.’

‘I said that jealousy certainly
could
have been a motive. One that her sister Laura didn’t want to believe. But Lucy’s motives could have been mixed. Nothing’s simple in a personality like hers.’

‘But why?’ Blackstone went on. ‘Even if it was her, why would she throw away the camera?’

Banks speared a chip and thought for a moment before answering: ‘Lucy’s terrified of jail. If she thought there was any chance of imminent capture – and it must have entered her mind after the first police visit and the connection between Kimberley Myers and Silverhill school – then might she not start making plans for self-preservation?’

‘It all seems a bit far-fetched to me.’

‘Not to me, Ken,’ said Banks. ‘Look at it from Lucy’s point of view. She’s not stupid. Brighter than her husband, I’d say. Terence Payne kidnaps Kimberley Myers that Friday night – he’s out of control, becoming disorganized – but Lucy’s still organized, she sees the end coming fast. First thing she does is get rid of as much evidence as possible, including the camcorder. Maybe that’s what sets Terry against her, causes the row. Obviously she has no way of knowing that it will end the way it does, at the time it does, so she has to improvise, see which way the wind’s blowing. If we find any traces of her being in the cellar—’

‘Which we do.’

‘Which we do,’ Banks agreed, ‘then she’s got a believable explanation for that, too. She heard a noise and went to investigate, and surprise, surprise, look what she found. The fact that her husband clobbers her with a vase only helps her case.’

‘And the tapes?’

‘She wouldn’t throw them away,’ Jenny answered. ‘Not if they were a record of what she – of what
they –
had done. The camera’s nothing, merely a means to an end. You can buy another camera. But those tapes would be more valuable than diamonds to the Paynes because they’re unique and they can’t be replaced. They’re her trophies. She could watch them over and over again and relive those moments with the victims in the cellar. It’s the next best thing to the reality for her. She wouldn’t throw them away’

‘Then where are they?’ said Banks.

‘And where is she?’ said Jenny.

‘Isn’t it just remotely possible,’ Banks suggested, pushing his plate aside, ‘that the two questions have the same answer?’

•

Maggie woke up with a splitting headache and a feeling of nausea deep in the pit of her stomach. She felt weak and disoriented; didn’t know at first where she was or how much time had gone by since she lost consciousness. The curtains were open and she could see it was dark outside. As things slowly came into focus, she realized she was still in her own bedroom. There was one bedside lamp turned on; the other lay in pieces on the floor. That must have been what Lucy hit her with, Maggie thought. She could feel something warm and sticky in her hair. Blood.

Lucy hit her!
The sudden revelation shocked her closer to consciousness. She had seen the video, Lucy and Terry doing things to that poor girl, Lucy looking as if she were enjoying herself.

Maggie tried to move and found that her hands and feet were bound to the brass bed. She was tied up and spread-eagled, just like the girl on the video. She felt the panic rise in her. She thrashed around, trying to get loose, but only succeeding in making the bedsprings creak loudly. The door opened and Lucy came in. She was dressed in her jeans and T-shirt again.