and she grabbed her client. ‘It’s OK, Diane. Take it easy. Don’t let her get to you. They’ve got nothing, that’s why she’s trying to provoke you.’
The tension of the moment was broken by a knock on the door. Stacey came in and identified herself for the benefit of the tape. ‘I need to talk to you for a moment, ma’am,’ she said formally.
Carol suspended the tapes and followed Stacey into the hallway. Tony rushed out of the observation room to join them. ‘What is it, Stacey?’ Carol said.
‘Kevin’s been talking to DPS clients,’ she said. ‘He was checking the calls from DPS’s phones, making sure they were client calls and not something more sinister. Anyway, Kevin thought while he was on that he’d check the last time they’d seen Warren Davy. And he made a note of all the times. When I realised what he’d done, I ran a check against the times when we know the killer was on Rig, chatting to his victims. And the places he was sending his messages from. And a clear pattern emerges. Warren has solid alibis for at least twenty of the online sessions. He couldn’t have been stalking the victims. He was with clients in completely different locations.’ She handed Carol a sheaf of paper. ‘That’s where Warren was. And that’s where the messages were being sent from at the same time.’
Carol tipped her head back. ‘Halle-fucking-lujah.’
‘So much for breaking her with psychology,’ Tony said wryly.
Carol patted his shoulder. ‘We softened her up. Now for the sucker punch. I’m going to enjoy this.’
CHAPTER 43
Tony pulled his tie off as he came through the front door, tossing it over the banister. He walked straight through to the kitchen and poured himself a tumbler of water, drinking it straight down. He stood leaning on the sink, staring at nothing. He’d left Carol and her team drinking in the back room of their favourite Thai restaurant. He understood their need to release the fearsome pressure of a multiple murder inquiry, but he couldn’t join in their celebration.
For him, there was nothing to celebrate in the final disintegration of Diane Patrick. That screaming, gibbering wreck had once been a competent, successful woman with a career and a relationship. A single obsession had taken control of her, obliterating everything else. And when she had finally understood not only that it couldn’t happen but that it had been taken from her by the one person she truly loved, something inside her had become unhinged. For most people in that state, it would have been enough to have killed Warren Davy. And if that had been all, she might have found a measure of forgiveness in the system, the balance of her mind having been well and truly disturbed by the appalling betrayal of her lover.
But Diane Patrick’s obsession had been so overwhelming, so deep-seated a need that she had to obliterate him utterly. And that meant destroying the children who had been created with his genes. It was utterly unreasonable yet entirely comprehensible. But the system didn’t have room to accommodate the complexities of human fixations, not when they included murdered children. Diane Patrick would never see freedom again. She’d end up somewhere like Bradfield Moor, if she was lucky, a maximum security prison if she wasn’t.
It wasn’t that he thought she should avoid some kind of retribution for her crimes. But he couldn’t help feeling pity rather than hatred. He wondered how he would have coped with the hand she’d found herself looking at.
It didn’t bear thinking about.
Tony pulled off his jacket and dumped it on the back of a kitchen chair. He took a beer from the fridge and sat down at the table. The downlighters under the kitchen cabinets glinted on something half-hidden in the drift of paper on the table. Unthinking, he reached for it and found the digital recorder Arthur had left for him. He stared at it long and hard. This whole case had been about fathers and children, he reminded himself. And at the heart of it had been ignorance.
There was nothing clever about avoiding knowledge. He’d known that all along. He just hadn’t been ready for it. He picked up his beer and went through to his study, where there were comfortable padded headphones. Tony plugged them in to the tiny recorder and settled down in his favourite armchair. The other chair was still sitting opposite, left from his exercise with the mind of the killer the other night. He imagined Arthur sitting there, and pressed play.
‘Hello, Tony. This is Arthur. Or Eddie, as I used to be known back when I was walking out with your mother in Halifax,’ he began. His voice was light and musical, still threaded through with the Yorkshire accent of his youth. ‘Thank you for being willing to listen to what I have to say.
‘There’s nothing I can say or do that will make up for not being part of your life. To begin with, I didn’t know you existed. When I left Halifax, I cut off all ties. I’ll explain why in a bit. So I knew nothing about your birth. Fourteen years later, I was on holiday in Rhodes when by sheer chance I ran into a couple who used to work in my factory in Halifax. Of course, they knew me straight away. There was no point in trying to deny who I was. They insisted on buying me a drink and bringing me up to date with all my old employees.
‘They’d moved to Sheffield with the new company, but they had family back in Halifax so they’d kept in touch with things back there too. They remembered I’d been engaged to Vanessa, and they talked about what a polite young lad her boy had turned into. Not like most teenagers, they remarked. It didn’t take much working out to realise that if Vanessa’s lad was already a teenager, there was a good chance you were mine.
‘But I’ve never been one to jump to conclusions. And so I didn’t allow myself to hope, not really. When I got back from my holiday, I hired a private investigator to find out what he could about you. He tracked down your birth certificate and he took some photographs of you. The dates were right, and you looked a lot like I did at your age. I was amazed. I was overjoyed. There was no doubt in my mind that you were my son.’ Arthur’s voice trembled and Tony pressed pause. His eyes were damp and he could hardly swallow. He forced a mouthful of beer down and carried on listening.
‘Then it dawned on me that there was nothing I could do about it. Vanessa had clearly decided we weren’t to know about each other. I was afraid if I tried to come into your life, she would somehow take it out on you. And I knew she was capable of it.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Also, I was afraid of the effect it might have on you. You were doing well at school and I didn’t want to interfere with that. Fourteen’s an awkward age. You might not have welcomed me in your life. You’d have had good reason to be angry with the man who had abandoned you to Vanessa’s care. So I kept my distance. I like to think it was for your sake, but probably some of it was to do with me being cowardly. And I’ll explain why I had my reasons for that too.
‘This is the hard bit for me. What I’m going to tell you, you might think I’m making it up. You might think I’m off my head. But this is the truth. I swear. You can believe it or not, it’s your choice. You know your mother at least as well as I did. You can judge whether you think my story has the ring of truth or not.
