They stood next to Hawley’s Audi. There were revellers around, happy, relaxed from a good meal and a few drinks. Anna sensed this was something both she and Hawley had a shared enjoyment of. Pub dinners and hot lazy evenings were a universe away from their working lives – his with the travails of the sick and injured, hers with the monsters and the scum.
Hawley reached for his keys but hesitated. ‘Anna, I don’t know what the rules are on this, but I had a good time this evening so would it be OK if we did this again? If you wanted to, that is.’
‘I’m not investigating you anymore, Ben. There are no rules.’
‘So, could I give you a ring maybe? I promise I won’t grill you next time.’
Anna tilted her head. ‘I thought you were scared of me, Dr Hawley.’
‘Not anymore. Besides, I’m all for confronting one’s fears.’
Hawley opened the passenger car door and from the seat took out a black plastic case with a yellow lid and silvered snap-locks. He handed it to Anna. She stared at it until the penny dropped.
‘Your tool box?’ was what Anna said. Your suicide kit, was what she thought.
Hawley nodded. ‘I thought maybe you should take it. Not to use, to get rid of, I mean.’
Anna took the case. ‘I’ll put it in lost and found. No one will ever find it there. No one ever finds anything there.’
‘Thanks.’
‘And, yes, why don’t you give me a ring. I’d like that,’ she said, and it came out easy and honest. ‘And if you do decide to go to Edinburgh, let me know. There are some other people up there besides Blair who’d like to say thank you.’
‘You should come with me,’ said Hawley. He leaned forwards and kissed her on the cheek; his smile, when he pulled back, mischievous, the invitation open and playful.
Nothing more was said and he got into his car and drove off. She watched him leave and turned back towards her flat. Halfway there she touched the spot where his lips had been and felt a warm and pleasant echo. Maybe she would text Kate and tell her she’d been out for a drink with someone. No, she’d keep it for Sunday lunchtime in case her sister’s screams woke up the kids.
There were people on the summer city streets, lights on in people’s houses. But in a Scottish city many miles away, Blair Smeaton would sleep soundly that night clutching her stuffed dog, with her sister’s arm loosely about her and her mother awake from the fourth week of cigarette and alcohol cold-turkey.
When Rainsford had told Anna she was up for a commendation for apprehending Starkey, she’d replied it was Hawley who should have got a medal.
Anna slid the key into her front door and opened it. From the way Ben had looked at her that evening after the kiss, maybe he thought he already had.
Fifty-Three
Two months later
The site known as Chailey Common was but a stone’s throw from the grandeur of Sheffield Park in Sussex. Yet this heathland was always meant for common use as opposed to private ownership. The police used the cricket club car park for the ground-probing radar equipment to be brought in. They’d also commandeered the car park on Warr’s Hill; that was where the cadaver dog team had encamped.
It was mid-afternoon and a dull day in mid-August, but still humid and warm. Anna suspected rain was on the way and with it a change of air. She, for one, was looking forward to it. Sussex Police were providing support on the ground, but Avon and Somerset, at the behest of Superintendent Rainsford, had provided transport for Shaw. The private companies contracted for prison escort and custody services to and from courts were not geared up for a category A prisoner like him. He was way above their pay grade.
Unlike the last time Anna had accompanied him to an abandoned asylum in North Wales, Shaw admitted he was less sure of exactly where his ‘treasure’ was buried though he’d guided them to Red House Common unerringly.
‘I’ll know it when I see it,’ he’d said.
Anna knew Shaw was motivated as much by an opportunity to be out of his prison environment as his ‘desire’ to help the police. Or more specifically, help Anna. There’d been no discussion. That was the deal. He insisted on leading them to the site, flatly refusing to give directions. He either came with them on what he euphemistically called a ‘day out’ or they could all stay home and watch Countdown.
This time Anna had brought Khosa with her, justifying it as good experience, but also wanting to keep Holder away from the worst of Shaw’s barbs. The curious thing about the multiple murderer was his politeness when it came to young women. Women, Anna suspected, who reminded him of his own daughter.
Shaw, handcuffed and flanked on either side by two armed officers, led them towards a windmill, but when they arrived he ignored it and scanned his surroundings until he spied a memorial stone placed to commemorate two people whose work paved the way for the reconstitution of the nature reserve. When Shaw saw it, he stopped, turned and smiled at Anna.
‘Tell them to grid the field west of here.’
‘Who is here, Hector?’ Anna asked.
‘Let’s find him first, shall we?’
‘Do you have a name?’
‘No. Krastev wasn’t capable of proper speech by the time he gave this place up. But this is it. By the windmill, near the stone.’
Anna gave the search teams their instructions. Shaw watched in his prison kit, a thin sheen of sweat on his shaven head. Khosa stood some way off. Anna hadn’t asked her to, but she suspected the DC had no intention of getting any closer to Shaw than she absolutely had to. And he, so far, had ignored her. She was extraneous, not part of his script.
‘Right,’ she said when the dogs began, ‘we’ll see what shows up. But is there anything else you can tell me?’
Shaw turned his gaze upon her. The evening was full of normal, earthy smells and sounds. The whine of machines from the farms, the smell of cut grass, the buzz of insects. But Anna knew the flaring of Shaw’s nostrils was for her. She’d tried to remember not to put any perfume on that morning, but she’d forgotten in the ritual of preparation – though she only ever used something very light for work. Hours had passed but clearly it still lingered. She was annoyed with herself for giving Shaw this satisfaction of being able to smell her. But it was too late now.
‘Hector. What did Krastev say exactly?’
‘The Black Squid used Krastev as a verifier sometimes. Where the victims could not verify themselves. Like this one who was ordered to take a bottle of sleeping pills and then be buried alive. Krastev said he’d done as instructed. Buried the boy, photographed it as it was done, sent the images to the administrator.’
‘Is this what he did with Tanya Cromer?’
‘No. Tanya had nothing to do with the Black Squid. She was for Krastev’s own… enjoyment. Off plan. But we both know she ended up being his downfall.’
The noise of the cadaver dog reached them across the common. A black Lab named Sinbad. Anna saw his handler put a heavy collar on him, indicating to the dog a search was imminent.
‘Did he tell you about any other Black Squid victims?’ Anna asked.
Shaw nodded.
‘So why did you choose here?’
Shaw smiled. Out of the corner of her eye, Anna saw Khosa flinch.
‘It’s beautiful here. It’s a long way from Whitmarsh prison. It’s a summer’s evening.’ He gave her one of his slow blinks. She’d seen that before. Sometimes it was a warning; other times she’d read it as a mark of a patient, canted humour.
‘None of those are the real reasons though, are they?’
Shaw tilted his head. ‘I want you to see that I can be helpful, Anna. I get the feeling you still don’t trust me. Even after my help with that child-murdering bastard, Starkey.’