Breakneck point, p.20
Breakneck Point, page 20
35
Someone has buzzed the front door, but he’s not expecting anybody. They don’t have visitors. Not any more. Margaret, a friend of Jackie’s mother, used to drop by when they were first married, until he told Jackie that Margaret said her efforts to make a cake for the church cake sale looked like vomit. She didn’t really say that, of course, but it was enough for Jackie to refuse to open the door to her and, in the end, she stopped coming round. Perhaps it’s the odious Arjun come to flirt some more with Jackie.
He calls out to Jackie that he’s ‘got it’ and opens the door to find the detective on his doorstep, smoothing his ridiculous hair into place. Keep calm. He can’t know anything. This is just a routine call. No one ever suspects a paramedic.
‘Evening, Detective Inspector.’
‘Mr Pascoe. I’m sorry to bother you at home.’
‘That’s no trouble at all. I wasn’t busy. How can I help you?’
He doesn’t want to let him in because when he leaves Jackie will be all over him, asking stupid questions.
‘I wanted to clarify something you said earlier.’
‘Oh?’
‘Yes, you said that you and your colleague were having lunch together in the ambulance in the lay-by on the housing estate that joins Three Brethren Woods. Is that right?’
He holds the officer’s gaze. Why would he ask him that? He’s already told him what happened. Then he understands. The detective knows he was lying, but how does he know? Trisha shooting her mouth off, no doubt.
He needs to think fast. He shakes his head.
‘Actually, no, Detective Inspector, that’s not right. I was alone.’
‘Can I ask why you lied to me?’
‘Yes. I was protecting my co-worker, Trisha Wilkins.’
‘And why would that be?’
‘She went shopping on work time. She’s already on a final warning. If our boss, Colin, found out she’d be sacked so I covered for her. I know I shouldn’t have. I can see it was a serious lapse of judgement. I was just trying to help Trisha.’
‘You do know it’s an offence to lie to the police?’
‘I’m sorry, but I didn’t think it would make much difference. I saw the man on the bike. That’s all true. What’s going to happen to me?’
‘Nothing. This time.’
It is, as he thought, an empty threat, just a cop wanting to make a point, but he lets out a loud sigh of relief.
‘Thank you. Thank you so much. My wife is disabled. If anything happened to me, I dread to think how she would manage.’
‘OK, but can I strongly advise you not to lie in the future. Another officer might not be so sympathetic. Anyway, I won’t take up any more of your time.’
He turns to leave.
‘Yes, Detective Inspector, you’re quite right. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing and I’m proud of Trisha for speaking up.’
The detective pauses.
‘It wasn’t your co-worker that told us. Ms Wilkins’ boyfriend mentioned it to the mother of the girl who was attacked, but it’s all sorted now and, as you say, the information about the man on the bike has been very useful. Anyway, I’ll leave you in peace.’
Simon closes the door behind him and leans against it.
‘Who was it, my love?’ Jackie calls from the front room.
‘No one important, but I have to go out.’
‘It’s late,’ she shouts back.
He doesn’t reply but grabs the car keys and leaves. He’s underestimated her, but he won’t make the same mistake twice.
Sliding out from behind the thick trunk of a pine tree, the clear night sky and full moon light his path to her bedroom window. The curtains aren’t drawn. Why would they be? No one can see in. The nearest cabin is forty metres away and barely visible through the trees.
Her bedroom is empty. There’s no one in.
He moves to the side of the small wooden structure and peers into the living-room window. There’s the round dining table to one side and at the back of the room the kitchen counter jutting out from the wall. Behind it, in the shadows is the kitchenette that’s nothing more than a nod to those tourists who prefer to cook than have takeaways. His eye falls on the sofa that’s too large for the room. There’s something piled up to one side. At first, he dismisses it as cushions and throws, but as he looks closer he can see it’s a person, curled up, fast asleep. It’s her. It’s the CSI.
He moves to the front of the building. A solar light attached to a tree throws a watery white light around the veranda, so he has to be quick, although there’s no need to break in. He still has TwilightSparkle’s keys. She might have changed the locks, of course, but he doubts it. He guesses she has other things on her mind right now and he’s right. The key slides silently into the lock and turns.
The cabin is made of wood, but that works in his favour. She’ll be used to creaks and knocks at all hours of the day and night. A few extra aren’t going to rouse her.
Once inside, the moonlight seeps through the window illuminating the hallway past the kitchen area. There are three doors leading off it. The CSI’s room is the door to the left. The door opposite, he guesses, is her daughter’s room. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t resist taking a peek.
On the wall above a bed framed in fairy lights is a notice board, pinned with photos of TwilightSparkle-hugging, similar-looking girls, sticking their chests out and pouting like wannabe porn stars. There’s a poster that says GIRLS KICK ASS and several pictures of horses. On the dressing table there’s a heart-shaped photo frame. The photo inside has been taken on a beach. It’s her and the CSI. The two of them are clinging onto each other, laughing. There’s a phrase written around the end of the frame. Memories are made with the ones you love.
He makes his way back into the living room. Each step slow and measured, it will take just one loose board to loudly betray him.
She’s lying on the sofa on her side, her dark hair splayed on the cushion. She looks so like Danielle. It’s the chin – pointed and determined, even in their sleep. They could be sisters.
He would watch Danielle sleeping too. He liked to study the smooth contours of her face: the gentle slope of her forehead, the curve of her brow bone, the straightness of her nose and the smooth rise of her lips. Sometimes she would open her eyes and freak out to find his face inches from hers and the moment would be ruined. Danielle was always better when she was asleep.
He kneels beside the sofa level with the CSI. Her breathing is so light, it’s barely audible and there’s no rise and fall in her chest. He leans in closer. He can’t feel her breath on his cheeks. She’s so still she looks dead.
Oh my. The rush is so sudden and surprising that he springs backwards onto his heels and almost loses his balance. The blood pumps into his groin and his breath shortens to a gasp. Through his trousers, he’s already pushing and straining to be released. How can this be happening?
His hand reaches down to his fly. He’s hard, harder than he can ever remember being. Even in the early days with Danielle, it was never like this. He stares at the CSI like she’s cast some spell over him. How can this be?
Before he can comprehend what’s happening, his hand dives under his belt and he reaches inside his pants. His other hand reaches for her.
36
A persistent knocking sound reverberates inside my head until I realize it isn’t a dream and I open my eyes. The clock on the wall says 10 a.m. I’ve been asleep for twelve hours. My phone contains numerous missed calls from Penny and texts swerving between anger and terror:
Where the hell are you? You said you’d only be a few hours.
Are you OK? That’s it. I’m calling the police.
The banging grows insistent and is accompanied by Holt’s voice.
‘Ally, it’s Bob. Are you OK? Can you open the door?’
By the time I bring myself to a sitting position, Penny’s master key is already in my lock and the door flies open. She rushes towards me. Behind her is Holt.
‘Thank God, you’re all right,’ she says, throwing her arms around me. ‘When you didn’t answer my calls, I thought something must have happened to you.’
I rub the sleep from my eyes with the base of my palm. My heart is still pounding from being woken so abruptly.
‘I’m fine. Who’s with Megan?’
‘Bernadette. Sorry. I had to call her. I was worried about you, so I called DI Holt.’
She’s beside herself. I place my hand on her arm.
‘No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I must have fallen asleep on the sofa.’ I pull my head from side to side to work a crick out. ‘Bob, you’ve had a wasted journey, too, I’m afraid.’
‘No need to apologize. I was on my way over anyway when Penny called.’
‘Oh?’
He smiles.
‘You might want to sit down.’
‘I’m OK standing.’
‘We’ve got him, Ally.’
The oxygen leaves my body.
‘What?’
My head is light and I’m teetering. Penny plants a firm arm around my shoulders and steadies me.
‘You OK?’
‘Yeah, thanks, I just wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.’ ‘We’re only questioning him at the moment, but we’re quietly confident he’s our man.’ ‘So, it’s over,’ says Penny.
‘Who is it?’ Holt must have anticipated that I would ask this, but he still hesitates. I don’t blame him, but I need to know. ‘It’s OK. I’m not going to do anything stupid to undermine the investigation. I probably don’t know him anyway.’
‘His name is Peter Benson.’
But I do know him. Everyone knows him.
‘Peter Benson?’
He’s maybe not the last person I would consider capable of murder, but he’s still fairly far down on the list. Even Penny frowned at the sound of his name.
‘You do know him, then?’
‘Yes. Everyone does. He has learning difficulties. He likes to ride his bike around town.’
‘That’s the one. Thirty-six years old. Lives with his mum, still.’
He says this as if it seals his guilt.
‘And you ID’d him from the CCTV.’
‘Yep, it’s definitely him. He’s denying everything, of course, but it doesn’t matter. He’s going down for this.’
‘So, had he arranged to meet Megan on the trail?’
‘Yes, he’s admitted meeting her. He even bought her a packet of Minstrels.’
This is sounding more bizarre by the minute. There is no way Megan would knowingly meet Peter Benson on a trail just outside Barnston. Minstrels or no Minstrels.
‘So, what happened?’
‘He said she was very rude to him, so he just cycled off back to Bidecombe. He swears he didn’t touch her.’
‘OK.’
‘There’s something else.’
‘What’s that?’
Holt smiles.
‘That fingerprint on the side of the steel pole. It’s his.’
Penny lets out a breath.
‘So, it is him.’
‘Yes.’
‘He wasn’t already on file then?’
‘No. He’d been warned a few times against harassing women, but it never got as far as a caution. This isn’t confirmed yet, but we’re also fairly certain the pole came from his shed. It’s part of an old trampoline. We’ve also seized his computer and his phone. The techies are already looking at them. His ISP records show his browsing history, and he was definitely on Instagram a lot in the run-up to Megan’s attack.’
He pauses. There’s more, but he’s holding back.
‘What is it?’
‘He visited other sites, too, including a website about the best way to kill someone.’
‘Oh my God,’ says Penny.
‘And you think he met Megan online, through Instagram, and then groomed her?’
‘We think so, although he’s adamant he’s never been on Instagram. He’s also saying he never accessed those other websites either, but it’s definitely his IP address so it’s either him or his mum.’
‘So, have you got into his Instagram account?’
‘Not yet. He won’t give us his details. He didn’t access it using either his computer or his phone, so we think he was using another device which we haven’t found it yet, but we will.’
‘But you already checked Megan’s Instagram messages. There was nothing suspicious in them, either.’
‘That’s true. I know I asked this before, but is it possible Megan has another account?’
‘Maybe, but I can’t think of a reason why she would do this, though. Like I said, I didn’t know her password so I couldn’t have read her private messages anyway. I trusted her.’
He shrugs.
‘To be honest, it doesn’t matter. We’ve got his fingerprints on the weapon which came from his shed and an eyewitness putting him near the scene, that’s more than enough. The CPS will think it’s Christmas.’ He’s right. In murder investigation terms, this is top-drawer evidence. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll get to the bottom of his Instagram account.’ Holt is waiting for me to respond, but my head is still whirring which he interprets as doubt. ‘It’s him, Ally. I promise you. And, before you ask, I also spoke to Simon Pascoe and asked him why he lied to us.’
Simon Pascoe. I’d forgotten about him.
‘And what did he say?’
‘To be honest, he was bricking it. Couldn’t apologize enough for his serious lapse in judgement, as he called it. He was covering for his co-worker who’d bunked off to go shopping. Apparently, she’s on a last warning.’
‘OK. That makes sense.’
‘Look, I’ve got to get back to the station. You take care of yourself, OK? If you need a FLO to come out and be with you, let me know.’
I watch Holt leave. Peter Benson. Peter. Benson. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this, but Holt is certain he attacked Megan. He somehow groomed her online and arranged to meet her in Three Brethren Woods. He cycled there, having taken a metal pole from his shed, and he attacked her. Then he got rid of her phone.
Penny hugs me.
‘Isn’t that great news?’ she breathes. ‘Now, we can just focus on Megan getting better. That’s all that matters, which reminds me, Bernadette wants you back at the hospital at ten. Apparently, she’s got book club at eleven. Ally?’
‘Sorry, my mind was elsewhere.’
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
I look at Penny. She isn’t going to like what’s coming next, but I have to do this. Liam is right. I need to know who did this to Megan, not because I’m a CSI, but because I’m her mother. ‘Can you go back to the hospital and I’ll meet you there in a bit?’
‘What? Why?’
‘Please.’
Penny’s shoulders sag.
‘Ally, Megan needs you.’
‘I promise. I’ll be an hour. Tops. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.’
She’s about to protest further, but stops herself, knowing it’s a waste of breath and she’s right. My mind was made up as soon as Holt said it was Peter Benson who attacked Megan.
37
He checks the tyres on the back of the ambulance and as he straightens himself he catches his reflection in the side mirror. He looks pale.
He’s still feeling out of sorts. It was a strange night. Not what he was expecting at all and he still doesn’t know what came over him. Why her? Was it her resemblance to Danielle? He didn’t know, but thank God, he realized what was happening before it was too late. It certainly won’t happen again.
Trisha’s bright red face appears from round the back of the ambulance.
‘I don’t fucking believe it.’
‘What’s happened?’
‘Some dickhead has only gone and complained to Colin about me and Gary behaving inappropriately during work time.’
‘What?’ He shakes his head in disbelief when he couldn’t be more delighted. Colin had taken his complaint seriously when he spoke to him the previous day. ‘That’s terrible. Who would do such a thing?’
‘I don’t know, but when I get my hands on them, I’ll bloody murder them.’
‘So what did Colin say?’
‘He was right out of line. Said we’d been seen snogging behind the station and that I was being unprofessional. Told me off like I was fourteen. He even told me Gary had a terrible reputation with women and I should tread carefully.’
‘Is that true?’
‘No. Anyway, I called Gary, he’s on earlies too, and he’s furious. He’s all for coming over and giving Colin a piece of his mind, but I said to him, Babe, I appreciate it, but you’ll just make things worse.’
‘Poor Gary, but you’re right. It wouldn’t solve anything. So, did Colin suspend you?’
‘No, thank God, but he said that if he gets any more complaints about my behaviour, that’ll be it for me.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘No. I’m right upset about it. I’ve a good mind—’
A radio in the cab buzzes into life. He nips round to the front and picks up the handset. A girl has gone off the cliffs near Breakneck Point. She’s alive, but they’re not sure how badly injured she is. All he hears is: a girl. The news stokes his heart. A glimmer of hope. His decision to take on extra shifts looks like it could be about to pay out.
Twenty minutes later, the ambulance pulls up in the beach car park below the cliffs. He can’t wait to get out, not just because of his excitement at what awaits but because Trisha’s anger at being disciplined by Colin subsided by the time they left Barnston and she returned to her favourite topic of conversation: how good Gary is at oral sex. ‘Most men are all fingers and thumbs, working a fanny like Play-Doh, but Gary just seems to know what I like.’ Her crudity is repulsive. Nothing is off limits. He can’t believe Colin didn’t suspend her. What a spineless man he is.
Directed by the car park attendant, they lug their equipment up a narrow lane towards Breakneck Point, a chunk of the cliff that juts out into the sea. The coastguard rescue team in their red uniforms and white helmets are clustered around the top of the cliff guiding them to the right spot.
