He was in Glasgow. A light aircraft carrying sixteen passengers including the French Ambassador had gone down just outside the city, killing all those on board. Terrorism was suspected.
Cross wasn’t expected back until the following day.
He didn’t even know what was going on.
Didn’t even know her life was in danger.
” it was.
She hesitated a second, then dialled her brother’s number. There was no answer. Cath put down the receiver and waited.
Ninety-one
The summons had arrived in an official-looking brown envelope.
Summons.
Frank Reed looked at the headed notepaper and read the word over and over again.
So, at last, the waiting was over.
He was to appear at Hackney Magistrates Court in three days time for a preliminary hearing. After that a decision would be made on whether or not his case went to trial.
What fucking case?
The alleged abuse of his own daughter?
He wanted to shout and scream at the top of his voice, to give vent to the rage and frustration he felt building inside him. A pain which had grown steadily over the last few days, swelling and expanding until he thought the pressure would erupt within him, would destroy him.
Thoughts and emotions whirled around inside his head, too numerous to focus on, too jumbled to consider.
He felt dizzy.
Was there one single word to describe how he felt? One solitary exhortation to express his desolation at the enormity of this situation he faced.
He sat at the kitchen table, staring at the summons, his fingers curled into fists.
At least at the hearing they would be forced to consider his feelings, his views.
There shouldn’t even be a hearing.
They would hear what he had to say and they would understand.
And if they didn ‘t 1
Reed found a vision forcing itself into his already confused mind. A man standing in the dock, in court, facing a jury.
Him.
Jesus, the thought was too much to bear and he tried to push it aside, but it persisted.
He swallowed hard, fear now creeping in amongst his other emotions. It glided easily in beside the anger and the pain.
He got to his feet and wandered through into the sitting room, snatching up the summons as he went.
As he reached for the phone he sucked in a couple of deep breaths, trying to control his rage then, satisfied it was under control, he dialled.
And waited.
The voice at the other end wasn’t the one he’d expected to hear.
‘Can I speak to Ellen Reed, please?’ he said, falteringly.
The voice on the other end told him she wasn’t in that morning.
‘Thank you, I’ll try later …’
The voice told him that Ellen had taken a couple of days off work.
He put down the phone and dialled another number.
It rang for what seemed like an eternity but the answering machine didn’t kick in so he assumed someone was there.
A second later he was proved right.
He recognised Ellen’s voice and, overcome with conflicting emotions, he found it impossible to speak.
When she spoke again it seemed to break the spell.
‘Ellen. It’s me’ he said, trying to keep his voice low.
‘I’ve got nothing to say to you,’ she snapped.
‘It didn’t have to come to this. Court. What are you trying to do to me?’
‘I’m doing this for Becky, not you.’
‘You’re doing it for yourself,’ he snarled.
‘Goodbye, Frank’ Ellen said, flatly.
‘No wait’ he said, imploringly. ‘Listen to me, Ellen. All we had to do was talk. It didn’t have to go this far. It’s not too late. You can stop these court proceedings: you started them.’
‘Afraid of what they’ll find out, Frank? Frightened they might uncover the truth?’
He gripped the receiver tightly, his jaw clenched.
He wanted to bellow at her and the effort of restraining himself was almost too much.
‘I don’t want you near our daughter again’ Ellen told him. ‘This court case will make sure she’s kept away from you.’
‘You don’t have the right-‘
‘I have every right after what you did to her’ Ellen snapped.
‘I did nothing to her’ he roared, desperately. ‘Speak to her. Ask her. She’ll tell you nothing happened.’
‘She says it did.’
‘She’s saying what you tell her to say, you and that bastard Ward.’
‘Don’t bring Jonathan into this.’
‘He’s a part of it, he has been since the beginning.’
‘I love him, Frank, and I love Becky, that’s why I’m protecting her from you.’
‘You bitch!’ he bellowed.
‘See you in court,’ she said, calmly, and hung up.
‘No!’ He screamed the word, his rage uncontrollable now.
Reed snatched up the phone and hurled it across the room with such force that it cracked in three places, the wire torn from the wall.
‘Fucking bitch!’ he yelled, then the anger seemed to drain from him. ‘Fucking bitch.’ It was replaced by that growing sense of desolation.
He was fighting back tears now, but he sucked in a deep breath.
She wasn’t going to get away with this.
If only he could see her, speak to her.
Reason with her.
No, it was too late for that. Reed looked across at the shattered remains of the phone, the lead hanging from the wall like some ruptured umbilical cord.
There was to be no reasoning.
No talking.
He knew there was only one option left.
The time had come.
Ninety-two
There was a fairly large expanse of well-manicured grass at the rear of the flats in Biscay Road. The lawn
was edged on three sides by flower beds and shrubs, all of which were in bloom. The entire colourful display was enclosed by high privet hedges. At two corners there were strategically placed weeping willows. Here and there leaves tumbled across the grass like green confetti.
It looked delightful, but the seven individuals who stood in the centre of the lawn seemed unconcerned by the array of colour before them, unimpressed by the peacefulness of the scene.
Three uniformed constables stood stiffly alongside the other four visitors.
‘The box is here somewhere,’ said Shanine Connor, glancing around.
Talbot shook his head almost imperceptibly. ‘You’re sure it’s not inside the building?’ he asked Cath.
T looked.’
‘In every room, in every flat?’ the DI asked.
‘The other three boxes were found in the victims’ gardens, Jim,’ Rafferty offered.
Cath shuddered involuntarily at the word victim.
‘All right,’ Talbot said. ‘Get on with it.’
The three uniformed men split up, one moving to each side of the garden.
Each was equipped with a spade.
Talbot looked on as they began to dig, turning the earth as carefully as questing archaeologists anxious not . to disturb some priceless hidden relic.
The spades went no deeper than eight or nine inches each time.
Rafferty wandered towards the bottom of the garden, standing close to one of the uniformed men as he dug.
The constable worked his way along the border, turning earth, gazing down to inspect anything he may have unearthed.
Rafferty saw worms writhing in the wet soil, one of them sliced in two by the blade of the shovel.
Shanine Connor moved towards the closest hedge and kneeled beside the privet perimeter, occasionally lifting the leaves of plants to look for any signs of disturbed earth.
Cath did the same thing at the base of one tree, urging the constable there to dig around the willow. He nodded and turned more of the damp soil, muttering to himself as it clung defiantly to the spade.