Aftermath (56 page)

‘Annie, I know what you’re going to say, but even if she did do it on purpose, it’s not your fault. You didn’t go down there in that cellar, see what she saw, do what she did. All you did was carry out an unbiased investigation.’

‘Unbiased! Christ, Alan, I bent over backwards to be sympathetic towards her.’

‘Whatever. It’s not your fault.’

‘Easy for you to say.’

‘Annie, she was no doubt drunk, and she went off the road.’

‘Maybe you’re right. I can’t believe that Janet would take someone else with her if she wanted to kill herself. But whichever way you look at it, drunk or not, suicide or not, it’s still down to what happened, isn’t it?’

‘It happened, Annie. Nothing to do with you.’

‘The politics. The fucking politics.’

‘Do you want me to come down?’

‘No, I’m okay.’

‘Annie—’

‘Sorry, got to go now. They’re pulling the girl out of the car.’ She hung up, leaving Banks holding the receiver and breathing quickly. Janet Taylor. Another casualty of the Paynes.

The first CD had finished and Banks had no real desire to listen to the second one after the news he had just heard. He poured himself two fingers of Laphroaig and took his cigarettes outside to his spot by the falls and, as the vivid orange and purple colours streaked the western sky, he drank a silent toast to Janet Taylor and to the nameless dead girl buried in the Paynes’s garden.

But he hadn’t been out there five minutes when he decided he should go to Annie,
had
to go, no matter what she had said. Their romantic relationship might be over, but he had promised to be her friend and give her support. If she didn’t need that right now, when would she? He looked at his watch. It would take him an hour or so to get there, if he moved fast, and Annie would probably still be at the scene. Even if she’d gone, she would be at the hospital and he would be able to find her there easily enough.

He left the tumbler, still half full, on the low table and went to grab his jacket. Before he could put it on, the phone rang again. Thinking it was Annie calling back with more news, he answered. It was Jenny Fuller.

‘I hope I haven’t called at an awkward moment,’ she said.

‘I was just going out.’

‘Oh. An emergency?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Only I was thinking we might have a drink and celebrate, you know, now it’s all over.’

‘That’s a great idea, Jenny. I can’t do it right now, though. I’ll call you later, okay?’

‘Story of my life.’

‘Sorry. Got to go. I’ll call. Promise.’

Banks could hear the disappointment in Jenny’s voice, and he felt like a real bastard for being so abrupt with her – after all, she had worked on the case as hard as anyone – but he didn’t want to explain about Janet Taylor and he didn’t feel like celebrating anything.

Now it’s all over
, Jenny had said. Banks wondered if it would ever be all over, the aftermath of the Paynes’s rampage, if it would ever cease taking its toll. Six teenage girls dead, one still unidentified. Kathleen Murray dead these ten years or more. PC Dennis Morrisey dead. Terence Payne dead. Lucy Payne in a wheelchair. Now Janet Taylor dead and a young girl seriously injured.

Banks checked for his keys and cigarettes, then headed out into the night.

I would like to thank my editor Patricia Lande Grader for her help in reshaping the unruly early drafts, and my wife Sheila Halladay for her perceptive and helpful comments. Also, many thanks to my agent Dominick Abel for all his hard work on my behalf and to Erika Schmid for her fine copy-editing.

As far as research goes, the usual crowd came through: Detective Sergeant Keith Wright, Detective Inspectors Claire Gormley and Alan Young, and Area Commander Philip Gormley. Any mistakes are entirely my own and are, of course, made in the interests of dramatic fiction. Also, thanks to Woitek Kubicki for his advice on Polish names.

A number of books proved invaluable in understanding the ‘killer couple’ phenomenon, and among those to which I owe my greatest debt of gratitude are Emlyn Williams,
Beyond Belief
; Brian Masters,
She Must Have Known
; Paul Britton,
The Jigsaw Man
; Gordon Burn,
Happy Like Murderers
; and Stephen Williams,
Invisible Darkness
.