‘Must have been rough,’ said Nightingale.
‘I was sure she was dead.’ He shivered and took a long drag on his cigarette. ‘You know, I was almost up on charges. I hit the bastard over the head with a spade. And that bitch of a girlfriend. They killed her and I was the one being threatened with charges.’
‘Nothing came of it, though?’
‘My Federation rep stepped in. It went away. But it shows you what it’s like these days. The criminals get the breaks and the victims are treated like shit.’ He sipped his gin and tonic.
‘You’ll be at the trial?’
‘That’s months away. They’re pleading not guilty. She says she didn’t know what he was doing, he says Bella slipped and fell in the bath.’
‘Bastards.’
‘Yeah. Tell me about it.’
‘Should have hit him harder with the spade.’
Hopkins laughed harshly. ‘Yeah, I wish I had now. I could have claimed that he’d slipped and fallen.’
‘He’ll get life.’
‘You think? Child abduction doesn’t always mean life. The woman will get away with a few years if they can get her to give evidence. He might get ten. Fifteen. Could be out in five.’
Nightingale took a drink of his Corona. ‘Still, Bella’s okay, that’s the important thing. Could have been a lot worse.’
‘Tell me about it.’
‘You said you thought he’d killed her.’
‘I was sure of it,’ said the inspector. ‘She was under the water when I pulled her out. He’d had his hands around her throat. There were no bubbles, she wasn’t moving. I put her down and gave her the kiss of life but she was gone, I could tell. She wasn’t breathing, she was just …’ He shrugged. ‘Gone. You’ve seen dead people, right?’
Nightingale nodded. ‘More times than I care to remember.’
‘So you know. The life goes. You can see it in the eyes. It’s not about body temperature or brain activity or any of that crap. You’re either dead or you’re alive and Bella was dead. I gave her the kiss of life and I did heart massage but looking back I wasn’t doing it for her, I was doing it for me. I thought that so long as I kept trying it wouldn’t be true. But nothing I did made any difference. She was dead.’ He took another long pull on his cigarette, held the smoke deep in his lungs, and then exhaled slowly. ‘So then the cavalry arrive and my Super takes me in the kitchen and the paramedics go up and then the next thing is they’re shouting that she’s alive.’
‘That’s strange, all right,’ said Nightingale.
‘Yeah. Except she wasn’t, Jack. I know dead. And she was dead. She might be alive and well now but that day, when I was working on her on the landing, she was dead.’
‘You might have missed something. Drowning victims can be resuscitated.’
‘That’s what I was doing, but it didn’t do any good. She wasn’t coughing up water. He strangled her. That’s what killed her. She didn’t inhale the water.’
‘Like a coma, then. Signs of life suppressed. Then she woke up when the paramedics arrived.’
‘Yeah, maybe that was it,’ said the inspector, but there was no conviction in his voice. ‘I’m just glad that it turned out the way it did. She’s back with her parents and at the end of the day that’s all that matters.’
‘Have you seen her, since?’
The detective shook his head. ‘Nah. The press office were talking about a reunion thing, you know? A photograph of little Bella and the hero cop that saved her life. But I said no.’
‘Because?’
‘Because I didn’t save her life. The girl I dragged out of the bath was dead. I did everything I could but she was still dead. I’d given up, I was in bits, and that’s when they found out she was alive. Whatever happened, it was nothing to do with me.’ He drained his glass. ‘So what was the question?’ he asked. ‘What did you want to know?’
‘You’ve already answered it for me,’ said Nightingale. He drained his bottle and put it down on the trestle table. ‘I’m good.’ He turned up the collar of his raincoat and walked away. He took his phone out and called Jenny. ‘All done,’ he said. ‘Where are you?’
‘Back in London, I figured you could get the train back.’
‘You’re joking!’
‘Of course I’m joking, you daft sod. Let me know where you are, I’ll come and get you.’
79
Malcolm Walton poured himself a glass of red wine and sipped it. ‘Can I have some?’ asked his wife. Walton nodded and sloshed some into a second glass on the kitchen counter, then walked into the dining room. The dining table was set for two. He sat down at the head of the table and took another sip of wine.
His wife joined him, carrying two plates. Steak, mashed potatoes and asparagus. She put down the plates and then went back to the kitchen to retrieve her wine glass.
‘Where are the kids?’ he asked as she sat down.
‘They went to see a film. They had a pizza before they went.’ She smiled. ‘They won’t be back until ten. I thought it’d be nice to have the house to ourselves.’ She picked up her wine. ‘Anyway, cheers.’
Walton looked at her glass and frowned. His wife waited expectantly but then realised he had no intention of clinking his glass against hers. She put her own glass down. ‘Malc, are you okay?’ asked his wife.
Walton shrugged.
‘Bad day at the surgery?’
He shrugged again. He couldn’t be bothered saying anything to her. She picked up her knife and fork and cut herself a small piece of steak. She was always a delicate eater, pecking at her food like a small bird. She popped the morsel into her mouth and chewed slowly.
Walton picked up the knife with his right hand and ran his left thumb slowly down the serrated edge of the blade.
‘Is something wrong?’ asked his wife. She put down her knife and fork. ‘Are you not feeling well?’
Walton stood up slowly.
‘Malc, what’s the matter?’ she asked, but then she seemed to sense what he was planning to do and stood up suddenly. Her chair fell back and hit the floor with a loud bang.
Walton moved quickly around the table. She turned and ran for the door but he lashed out with the knife and cut her across the shoulder. She shrieked in pain and stumbled against the wall, but then regained her balance as Walton struck her again, this time a stabbing motion that thrust the knife several inches into her back. She screamed but Walton knew that no one would be coming to help her. Their house was detached and their nearest neighbour was in her seventies and virtually deaf. His wife scrambled through the door as blood soaked into her shirt. Walton ran after her and stabbed her in the back again. ‘Help me!’ screamed his wife and Walton grinned savagely. She could scream all she wanted, it wouldn’t help.
She ran into the hall, towards the front door. He was hard on her heels and he knew that she wouldn’t have time to unlock the door, so he anticipated her move to the right to head up the stairs. He slashed out with the knife and cut her just below the knee, the serrated blade slicing through her flesh as if it were paper. Blood spurted down her leg.
She fell and only just managed to get her hands up to break her fall, then scrabbled up the stairs on all fours. Walton changed the grip on the steak knife and brought it down into the calf of her right leg, burying it up to the handle. He felt the blade scrape the bone as it went in and again when he pulled it out savagely.
His wife reached the top of the stairs, where she pushed herself to her feet and ran down the landing to their bedroom, blood pouring down her leg. She got there a fraction of a second before him and tried to slam the door in his face, but he hit the door hard and she staggered backwards and fell onto the bed. She tried to roll to the side, but Walton was too quick for her and he stabbed her four times in the chest, hard and fast, grunting with each blow. Blood blossomed over her breasts and Walton snarled and stabbed her again, this time closer to her throat.
