Everyone was seated. The minister straightened in hers. For the first time, he noticed how she was dressed: in a black two-piece trouser suit with a white blouse and a lilac silk scarf around her neck – no doubt ready for a trip to the airport. The sheen on her hair reflected the overhead lights. Her expression was one of defeat. He wondered what was going through her mind.
He actually felt sorry for her. A thirteen-year-old girl against the world. Raped and defiled by a bunch of bastards. But despite the fact she had every right to see the men who had violated her punished, she had gone about it the wrong way. Having gone through the ordeal she had, it would have been hard to trust any adult. But it would have been her only hope. As a mature woman of the cloth, she should have known better. There would have been channels she could have gone through. Maybe she thought the church would protect her from what was about to happen.
Her only hope would be a sympathetic jury.
Despite every thought invading his mind, she had given him absolutely no choice. He raised his warrant card.
“Jacqueline Bâlcescu, I’m arresting you on suspicion of six murders. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
Jacqueline did not reply. She simply stood up, waiting for him to make the next move.
The expression in her eyes was paralyzing. He realized at that moment what her feelings were toward him: what she thought of him. She would probably have traded everything she had to be with him. He wondered briefly what would have happened had her feelings been reciprocated.
“Sean, take her away.”
“Stop!” shouted Anei.
Startled, Gardener stared at the old woman.
“Don’t say anything.” Jacqueline reprimanded her aunt.
Reilly stepped back.
Anei stood up. “It wasn’t her. It was me!”
Gardener wondered whether or not she was speaking the truth, or merely protecting her niece as she had always done.
“She did not murder those men. I did. Even if she had, who would care? People like that don’t deserve to live in our society.”
“Stop it, Auntie, you don’t know what you’re saying.”
Gardener stepped forward to face the old lady. Even if she didn’t kill the others, she had killed Summers only minutes ago in front of his very eyes. She would no doubt argue it was self-defence and, with a decent lawyer, not to mention a sympathetic jury, she too, may well escape any severe punishment.
Anei Bâlcescu glared at Gardener. “Can you blame me?”
Whatever her plan had been, it was beginning to unfold. Whether he could or not was immaterial. “Are you admitting to the murders of Herbert Plum, Bernard Thornwell, Frank Myers, and Harry Clayton?”
Jacqueline turned and pointed a warning finger. “I’ve told you, Auntie, don’t be stupid. Do not throw away your one chance of going home.”
“What kind of a home would it be without you?” replied the old woman.
“She’s lying, Stewart,” said Jacqueline, turning back to Gardener. “She’s trying to protect me. I killed all of those men, and I may as well have killed my father, and I have no regrets.”
“I am not lying,” said Anei. “I killed those men. And you have just seen me kill another. What kind of a policeman are you? I have knowledge. I have plants. I have expertise.” She was counting the reasons off on her fingers, her hand held close to Gardener’s face. “You have all the evidence you need.”
Gardener’s head was a mess. Who the hell had killed the men? The butler, Summers, Anei, Jaqueline?
Gardener had no choice. He held his warrant card in the air once again.
“Anei Bâlcescu, I’m also arresting you on suspicion of murder. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, when questioned, something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”
Jacqueline almost sank to her knees. “No, Stewart. You can’t. She’s lying.”
She turned to her aunt. “Please, tell him. You’re only trying to protect me.”
Tears poured down her cheeks. She addressed her aunt, who had now sat back down. They were holding hands.
“I know what you’re doing,” said Jacqueline. “You think that these people are going to hurt me, send me to prison. It doesn’t matter. No one can hurt me anymore. Can’t you see? The only people who can hurt me are now dead. I’ve gotten rid of them. No one else can hurt me.”
She glanced at Gardener, and then back at her aunt. “I won’t face this alone. The Lord will be with me. He will look after me.”
Anei Bâlcescu did not answer her niece. Instead, she addressed Gardener. “I stand by my words.”
After a short silence, Gardener replied. “So do I.”
Epilogue
Christmas Day
“Merry Christmas, my darling,” said Sarah, reaching towards him.
She was beautiful, dressed in a black two-piece suit, with a white blouse and a peach-coloured silk scarf he had bought her from Marks & Spencer. They were standing by the fireplace, in front of the Christmas tree that she had decorated. She was holding a present, reaching out to him.
He wanted to take it. When he did, she disappeared.
Gardener gasped and sat bolt upright in bed, bathed in sweat, his head pounding. The sudden movement jolted his ribs, taking his breath away.
He placed his head in his hands, going
