He wanted to bellow at her and the effort of restraining himself was almost too much.
‘I don’t want you near our daughter again’ Ellen told him. ‘This court case will make sure she’s kept away from you.’
‘You don’t have the right-‘
‘I have every right after what you did to her’ Ellen snapped.
‘I did nothing to her’ he roared, desperately. ‘Speak to her. Ask her. She’ll tell you nothing happened.’
‘She says it did.’
‘She’s saying what you tell her to say, you and that bastard Ward.’
‘Don’t bring Jonathan into this.’
‘He’s a part of it, he has been since the beginning.’
‘I love him, Frank, and I love Becky, that’s why I’m protecting her from you.’
‘You bitch!’ he bellowed.
‘See you in court,’ she said, calmly, and hung up.
‘No!’ He screamed the word, his rage uncontrollable now.
Reed snatched up the phone and hurled it across the room with such force that it cracked in three places, the wire torn from the wall.
‘Fucking bitch!’ he yelled, then the anger seemed to drain from him. ‘Fucking bitch.’ It was replaced by that growing sense of desolation.
He was fighting back tears now, but he sucked in a deep breath.
She wasn’t going to get away with this.
If only he could see her, speak to her.
Reason with her.
No, it was too late for that. Reed looked across at the shattered remains of the phone, the lead hanging from the wall like some ruptured umbilical cord.
There was to be no reasoning.
No talking.
He knew there was only one option left.
The time had come.
Ninety-two
There was a fairly large expanse of well-manicured grass at the rear of the flats in Biscay Road. The lawn
was edged on three sides by flower beds and shrubs, all of which were in bloom. The entire colourful display was enclosed by high privet hedges. At two corners there were strategically placed weeping willows. Here and there leaves tumbled across the grass like green confetti.
It looked delightful, but the seven individuals who stood in the centre of the lawn seemed unconcerned by the array of colour before them, unimpressed by the peacefulness of the scene.
Three uniformed constables stood stiffly alongside the other four visitors.
‘The box is here somewhere,’ said Shanine Connor, glancing around.
Talbot shook his head almost imperceptibly. ‘You’re sure it’s not inside the building?’ he asked Cath.
T looked.’
‘In every room, in every flat?’ the DI asked.
‘The other three boxes were found in the victims’ gardens, Jim,’ Rafferty offered.
Cath shuddered involuntarily at the word victim.
‘All right,’ Talbot said. ‘Get on with it.’
The three uniformed men split up, one moving to each side of the garden.
Each was equipped with a spade.
Talbot looked on as they began to dig, turning the earth as carefully as questing archaeologists anxious not . to disturb some priceless hidden relic.
The spades went no deeper than eight or nine inches each time.
Rafferty wandered towards the bottom of the garden, standing close to one of the uniformed men as he dug.
The constable worked his way along the border, turning earth, gazing down to inspect anything he may have unearthed.
Rafferty saw worms writhing in the wet soil, one of them sliced in two by the blade of the shovel.
Shanine Connor moved towards the closest hedge and kneeled beside the privet perimeter, occasionally lifting the leaves of plants to look for any signs of disturbed earth.
Cath did the same thing at the base of one tree, urging the constable there to dig around the willow. He nodded and turned more of the damp soil, muttering to himself as it clung defiantly to the spade.
He stopped for a moment, banging the blade against the small tree, clods falling from the implement.
When he dug again he struck something hard.
He kneeled, using his hands to pull away the remaining soil.
Whatever he’d hit was close to the surface.
Cath moved nearer, her heart pounding.
It was a tree root.
She sighed.
The constable continued with his task, moving a few more inches to his right.
‘What if it’s buried deeper than the others were?’ Rafferty said, rejoining Talbot who was still standing in the centre of the lawn looking around him as helplessly as a lost child in a supermarket.
‘Then we dig deeper,’ the DI replied.
‘It still might not be here,’ Cath said, agitatedly.
‘Then where do you suggest we look?’ the DI snapped. ‘This is for your benefit, try being grateful.’
Cath was about to say something when she heard Shanine Connor’s voice behind her.
Distracted.
‘What’s that?’ said the younger woman.
Cath, Talbot and Rafferty turned to see her pointing through a gap in the hedge.
She was motioning across the road towards a small children’s playground.
It was protected by a line of low conifers and a black-painted iron fence.
Shanine could see a small girl clambering to the top of a slide. Another smaller boy was hauling himself over a climbing frame. On a bench near by, a woman watched them vigilantly, calling to them every now and then.
Sounds of laughter could be heard drifting on the air.
‘We should look there too,’ Shanine said, her eyes still fixed on the children. As she watched she touched her own swollen belly.
Soon.
‘You said the box would be buried in the garden,’ Talbot snapped.
‘I said it would be close to the victim’s home,’ Shanine repeated.
Cath shuddered.
That word again.
‘That’s close,’ Shanine continued, jabbing a finger towards the playground.
‘You three stay here,’ Talbot said to the uniformed men. ‘Keep digging. If you find anything, come and get me.’
Cath and Shanine were already heading out of the garden, then hurrying across the street towards the playground.
Talbot and Rafferty followed.
The woman with the two children looked around in bewilderment as Cath and Shanine entered the playground, the plain-clothes policemen only moments behind them.
Talbot saw the concern on her face and smiled what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
The children seemed uninterested in these newcomers: they played happily while the others wandered
