Warwick opened his mouth. He struggled to speak. His face was contorted with pain. Horton bent low over him. 'Just tell me, did you kill her? Nod or shake your head.'
Horton could hardly bear to see the suffering and fear in Hassingham's eyes. He told himself he was looking into the eyes of a ruthless killer and an evil manipulator of people. 'Did you?' Horton raised his voice.
Hassingham shook his head.
Horton hadn't finished yet. 'Did any of the others kill her?'
Hassingham was convulsing. He didn't have long to live.
'Did they kill Jennifer?' Horton shouted above the roar of the wind, grabbing Hassingham by his jacket lapels. Finally, just when Horton thought it was going to be too late, Hassingham shook his head. Horton looked into his terrified eyes and saw he was telling the truth.
He lowered Hassingham's inert body to the ground, letting out a breath, feeling the tension drain from him. Unexpectedly he was swamped with an emotion so strong that it made him feel sick. Was she still alive today? Could he find her? Did he want to?
Then some instinct warned him of danger; he was caught off guard but managed to dodge to the side. He was too late though to fend off the violent blow, and it struck him on the side of his head. He slumped forward. He felt the phone being snatched from his hand. Through the shooting pain and his blurred vision he looked up to see Trevor running towards the helicopter. It spluttered into life, and shakily Horton pulled himself up. The ground spun and he staggered around, trying desperately to clear his head and focus on what was happening.
Horton had no idea where his phone was, probably on the cliffs below. He had to get back to the house and alert the authorities. Then he looked round for Janice and realized she'd gone. His eyes scoured the dark night until he saw her some distance ahead, running along the cliff edge. What the hell was she doing? Where did she think she was running to? He felt the blast of air as the helicopter lifted off.
'Janice,' he shouted. She was perilously close to the cliff edge, but his warning was drowned by the wind and the roaring of the helicopter.
Suddenly the helicopter was almost on top of him and Horton flattened himself into the sodden earth. As it swept past him, Horton stumbled up. Christ, it was heading for Janice. Horton sprinted after her. Again he cried a warning but it was too late. He watched helpless as the helicopter lurched downwards. Janice gave a cry and staggered back, her foot slipped and scrambled for some firm foothold, then she was gone.
Horton swore and with his head throbbing he increased his speed. The helicopter hovered a moment then swiftly turned and disappeared over the sea and into the night.
Breathless, Horton reached the cliff top where he thought Janice had gone over. Was she dead, smashed to pieces on the rocks below?
The rain suddenly stopped and the moon appeared from out of the scudding clouds. Buffeted by the icy wind, Horton peered over the cliff edge. Cupping his hands around his mouth he called her name and strained his ears listening for her cry. Nothing. She must have gone. But no, there was a faint call.
'Janice!' he roared again
Another feeble cry in response. It was coming from his right. He edged along the cliff cautiously; he wasn't certain how solid the earth was beneath him, and he didn't want to go over.
Then he saw her. She was lying on a narrow ledge with her hands grasping a small tree trunk whose roots had already lifted from the soil, her legs and feet were dangling perilously over the edge. Horton scoured the cliff face. Could he get down?
'I'll get help.' But it was a long way back to the house.
She screamed as the trunk gave way a little. The earth crashed down below her and splashed into the sea. Shit, one more like that and she'd go. He had no time to lose. If he could just get down to the narrow ledge above her and grab hold of her.
It was stupid to try and he knew it. Every instinct was warning him against it, but when had he ever listened to them?
Gingerly, he edged his way down, his feet seeking a foothold. Every now and then he sent earth tumbling down to the rocks below. The sea seemed to be licking its lips in anticipation of receiving them. He could see flecks of white spray crashing on to the rocks. Slowly, he eased his way towards her, talking gently, urging her to hold on. He could see her pale terrified face. His breathing was laboured; his head was pounding, his body screaming with tension. At last he was on a ledge above her.
'I can't hold on much longer,' she cried fearfully.
'I'm nearly there.'
The tree trunk shifted again and she screamed. He could see that she had only one hand holding on to it now the other was swinging over the edge of the cliff, dangling like her body. There was only one tree root left and when that went… Horton stretched out a hand but knew it was pointless. He was still too far away from her.
'Hear my confession,' she cried. 'I overheard Seb talking to Rowley on the telephone saying that Tom was back in Portsmouth and wanting to confess that Warwick had never died, but a man called Croxton had. All those years and I thought Warwick dead. His supposed death killed our mother. He killed her. He made her suffer terribly. She died of a broken heart.'
The tree trunk gave again. The earth sprayed down and made her cough. Her face was etched with pain and hatred as she continued. 'After I saw Warwick at the marina I got a copy of Seb's mobile phone bills and called his numbers until on Monday I recognized Warwick's voice. I told him Seb was going to tell you everything and that I would kill Seb in exchange for money and the chance to start a new life. I told him I was sick of being a drudge. Warwick agreed and told me where to come. I knew he would try to kill me, which is why I brought the poison with me.'
Her pale face was contorted with the pain of holding on.
'I'll get closer,' Horton cried urgently.
'No. Don't risk your life. I didn't intend you to come here. I wanted them to pay for what they did to Mum. I've seen justice done. I'll be with her now.'
The trunk snapped like the sound of a hundred cannons roaring in his ears. Janice screamed. Horton reached out. It was useless. He snatched his head away not wanting to see her body bounce against the cliff and smash on to the rocks below. His heart ached, his head throbbed and his ears rang with Janice Hassingham's last words and the sound of her screams long after they died.
Twenty-Three
He wasn't sure how long he lay on the narrow ledge, feeling numb. Maybe he would have stayed there for ever if it hadn't been for the sound of a helicopter and a powerful white light beaming out of the sky like something out of Close Encounters.
Someone was calling his name and the beam of light fell on him. Minutes later he found himself at the top of the cliff, thanking his rescuers. There seemed to be an awful lot of people and a great deal of activity, including the setting down of the police helicopter. A bulky figure in a big camel overcoat climbed out.
'Strange time of night to go rock climbing, Inspector,' Uckfield yelled, drawing level with him. 'What happened? Who's the man in the field?'
'Warwick Hassingham.' He saw Uckfield's surprise. As they fell into step back to the house, Horton explained what had happened, leaving out all reference to his mother. Those who had known about Jennifer's part in the robbery and the marine incident were dead; everyone that was except Trevor, and how much did he know? More than the confession he'd heard tonight from Warwick?
Three police cars were parked outside the house and Horton watched the SOCO van pull into the driveway. He rubbed a hand across his eyes. The investigation into the deaths of Brundall, the Gilmores, Sherbourne and Anne Schofield was over, but the one into Warwick Hassingham and his past was only just beginning. And there was that missing persons file on his mother, which miraculously still nestled in his pocket against his chest.