TT13 Time of Death (29 page)

What she and Linda had been talking about. The past they had been about to dredge up.

I know who you are and I know what you’re going through
…

The fact that, just for a second or two, Helen had mistakenly thought the journalist was talking to her.

Linda continued to jabber, giggly and over-excited. She began raving about the countryside, pointing at skeletal trees or fields still brimming with brown water as though they were the most amazing things she’d ever seen. Steve, she told Helen, for all his faults, used to love getting out into countryside. It was one of the main reasons he’d moved to the area in the first place. Wayne on the other hand, the sow’s arse, was a very different kettle of fish who, despite being a local lad, had hated every bush and blade of grass. Had thought it was ‘boring’. Used to get ratty, she said, if
she as much as suggested a walk or maybe a drive out somewhere for a picnic when the weather was decent.

‘Me and the kids left the miserable sod to it,’ Linda said. ‘Came on our own.’

Helen was about to mention similar conversations she’d had with Thorne, when her phone rang. She glanced across and touched the screen.

‘Are you on speaker?’ Sophie Carson asked.

‘I’m driving.’

‘Turn it off.’

Helen snatched the phone up from between the seats and disabled the speaker function. She slowed, though there was a line of traffic behind her, and began looking for somewhere to pull in.

‘OK …’

‘What?’ Linda suddenly sounded rather more sober.

Helen listened. She said, ‘Right’ and ‘Where?’

A horn sounded behind them. Linda said, ‘Helen?’

Helen indicated and pulled in suddenly, hard against a wide, wooden gate. She ignored the mimed abuse from the van driver who accelerated past. She said, ‘We’ll get there as soon as we can,’ and switched off the engine.

Linda said Helen’s name again, fear in it.

‘We need to get across to Bromsgrove,’ Helen said. ‘To the hospital.’

‘Oh, Jesus, is it one of the kids?’ Linda shook her head quickly. ‘No, Bromsgrove would be stupid—’

‘It’s Steve,’ Helen said. ‘It’s the nearest hospital to Hewell prison.’ She was thinking quickly, trying to work out the fastest route. ‘He tried to kill himself.’

Thorne received Helen’s text as he was leaving Cupz, and, after a forty-mile journey, during which Hendricks bragged about several recent sexual conquests and repeatedly joked that the woman on Thorne’s sat-nav had a promising career as a dominatrix, they got to Bromsgrove hospital half an hour after Helen and Linda.

They arrived to find Helen and Linda alone in a grim, overheated waiting room. Thorne introduced Hendricks, then, after exchanging a practised look, he and Helen stepped outside into the hospital corridor.

‘He got hold of a ballpoint pen,’ Helen said. She mimed repeated jabs to her wrist. ‘Made quite a mess, by all accounts.’

‘Is he all right?’

‘Nobody seems keen to tell us very much, but I don’t think he’s in any danger.’

‘Was he ever?’

‘Not sure how quickly they found him.’

‘Depends if he wanted to be found,’ Thorne said. ‘How serious he was.’ He looked back through the waiting room’s small
window. Hendricks and Linda were sitting opposite one another in silence. ‘How’s she doing?’

‘Well, she was frantic all the way here, but now she’s just furious.’

‘With Steve?’

Helen shook her head. ‘With everyone
but
Steve.’

‘And how are you doing?’ Thorne asked.

‘Me?’ Helen saw Linda glance up at the door and raise a hand. She waved back. ‘Come on, we should go back in.’ She reached out to touch Thorne’s arm. ‘Go and rescue Phil …’

They walked back into the room and sat down to wait. Half a dozen mismatched armchairs were lined up against yellowing walls decorated with children’s drawings. A coffee machine stood in one corner and several more chairs were dotted around a low plastic table covered with used plastic cups and magazines. Thorne carried extra chairs across, sat down and examined the reading material. It wasn’t hard to work out why they had been donated.

Practical Boat Owner. Home Building & Renovating. Investors Chronicle
.

‘Anyone want a drink?’ Thorne asked.

‘How do they let him get hold of a pen?’ Linda said. ‘A fucking
pen
.’ She gripped the arms of her chair and looked around for an answer nobody seemed eager to provide. ‘I mean, don’t they watch prisoners like Steve? Prisoners who are vulnerable?’

‘They should,’ Helen said. ‘I don’t know if he was actually on any kind of suicide watch though. If he’d given them any cause—’

‘There must be a system in place, surely.’

Helen nodded because there was little else she could do. She looked at Thorne.

‘Maybe it’s exactly what they wanted,’ Linda said. Thorne and the others could hear booze working in her voice, but her mood was very different to the one Helen had witnessed before taking
the call from Sophie Carson. ‘It saves a lot of aggro, doesn’t it? A shedload of paperwork and the cost of a trial. Lots more money to pay coppers overtime with.’

‘I don’t think so,’ Helen said.

‘No? Happens a lot, when you think about it though. Shipman topped himself inside, didn’t he? Fred West, he was another one. You start to wonder if prison officers, coppers, whoever, are turning a blind eye.’ Linda was leaning forward, spitting out the words. ‘Here you go, mate, here’s a handy length of bedsheet, there’s a razor blade … you get on with it and we’ll sit over here and look the other way.’ She sat back, nodding. ‘Yeah, would have done everybody a favour, Steve doing that. Fuckers …’

A minute or two passed. The reversing signal of a van or lorry sounded close to the window. There were voices outside the door, some laughter, then it was quiet again.

Linda closed her eyes. ‘Sorry.’

‘You’ve got every right to be angry,’ Helen said.

‘Why won’t anybody tell us anything?’ She looked at Helen, at Thorne. ‘How long’s it been?’

‘Time always drags in places like this,’ Thorne said.

‘Right,’ Hendricks said. ‘A minute seems like ten.’

Linda nodded, summoned a smile. ‘Listen, thanks for the support. Be bloody horrible if I was here on my own.’ Her eyes widened. ‘Shit, the kids. I should call them.’

‘They’ll be fine,’ Helen said. ‘I can call them if you want, but there’s really no need.’

Linda looked at Thorne. ‘She’s been great, you know, your missus. You should have seen her earlier on.’

Thorne looked at Helen. ‘What?’

‘I’ll tell you later,’ Helen said.

‘Stood up for me, she has.’ Linda got up and walked across, wrapped an arm around Helen’s shoulder. ‘Been slagged off in the papers for it, an’ all. Gobbed at.’

‘
What?
’ Now, Thorne was out of his chair.

‘Gobbed at by who?’ Hendricks asked.

Helen inched away from Linda. ‘Just a few twats in the pub last night. When I went to the toilet.’ She clocked the look on Thorne’s face. ‘Again, I’ll tell you later.’

Thorne remembered how Helen had been, driving them back to Paula’s the night before. The silence, and something he didn’t recognise coming off her like a stink. He hoped, for their sake, that he never got hold of those responsible, but for once, at least, he had an explanation for Helen’s behaviour.

‘You look after her.’ Linda pointed a finger. ‘You’ve got a good one here.’

Thorne bought a round of weak teas from the machine and they all sat down again. Helen chatted quietly to Hendricks about work for a few minutes while Thorne tried talking to Linda about anything but the reason they were there.

The floods, the food in the local café, how her kids were doing at school.

It didn’t last long.

‘Why did he do it, d’you think?’

Once again, there was no answer anyone could give, but Thorne knew very well what most people would have said. He wondered if it was an answer that Linda was even considering.

‘It just keeps going round in my head.’

‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Helen said.

‘I mean, there’s always hope, isn’t there? He must know me and the kids are there for him, whatever else happens.’ She looked to Helen, got a nod which seemed to perk her up a little. ‘I know prison’s horrible, but Steve’s a strong bloke, really he is.’

‘I’m sure he knows,’ Helen said. ‘It won’t have been that—’

Instinctively, they all stood up when the door opened, but it wasn’t the nurse or doctor they were expecting.

‘Everyone all right?’ Tim Cornish asked the question as though they were guests waiting to go through for dinner. He took a good look at Thorne, and at Hendricks.

Linda stepped towards him. ‘What’s happening?’

‘Well, you’ll be pleased to hear that your husband’s fine. All patched up.’

‘Can I see him?’

‘Well, not right now, but if he sends a visiting order, of course you can.’

Linda looked confused, but Thorne and Helen understood immediately.

‘Are you winding us up?’ Helen asked.

Cornish shrugged. ‘Nothing I could do.’

‘What’s happening?’ Linda asked. ‘Why can’t I see Steve?’

‘They’ve already taken him back to prison,’ Cornish said. ‘The van left twenty minutes ago.’

‘What?’ Linda sounded on the verge of hysterics.

Cornish leaned back against the door. ‘The cuts weren’t much worse than superficial in the end,’ he said. ‘They stitched him up, gave him some painkillers and that was it.’

Helen shook her head. ‘This is not on.’

‘You know as well as I do that as soon as it’s been established a prisoner’s in no immediate danger, it’s the responsibility of the prison service to have him returned to custody as soon as possible.’

‘They told me to come.’ Now Linda was shouting, looking to Helen for support. ‘We’ve just been sat waiting here like idiots, for nothing.’

‘It was the governor’s decision.’ Cornish held up his hands. ‘Not mine.’

‘You just got me here to take the piss. To make me suffer.’

‘You’re upset, Linda—’

‘Bloody right, I’m upset.’

‘Go back to your kids,’ Cornish said. ‘Just be grateful Steve’s alive, eh?’

Helen could see that Linda was about as ready to take a swing as she herself had been a few hours earlier in the pub. She moved quickly to usher her from the room.

Thorne waited until the door had closed. ‘There was no need for that.’

‘For what?’ Cornish was the picture of wounded innocence. ‘I know you’re on holiday, but you can’t have forgotten the way things work
that
quickly.’

Thorne held himself in check, looked away. Just the partner of a woman who was here supporting a friend. No more than that.

Cornish looked at Hendricks. Hendricks moved to introduce himself, but Cornish held up a hand. ‘I know who you are.’

Hendricks tried to look pleased. ‘My fame is obviously spreading.’

‘You can get famous very fast round here,’ Thorne said.

Cornish smiled and loosened the top button of his shirt. He let out a long sigh, like he’d had a tough day. ‘Ballpoint pen, eh?’ He walked across to the coffee machine, digging into his trouser pockets for change. ‘When I heard what happened, I thought he might have done us all a favour.’

Thorne stared at him. ‘You what?’

Cornish jammed the first coin into the machine then turned. He looked at Hendricks, then at Thorne, as though unsure what he was being accused of. ‘I hoped he’d written us a nice juicy confession.’

Driving back, Hendricks seemed less amused than he had been by the strict tone of the woman giving them directions. ‘She’s got a point though,’ he said.

‘Who?’

‘Bates’ wife. Asking why he tried to top himself.’

‘All sorts of reasons he might do it.’

‘Yeah, maybe someone threatened him in the showers or his favourite football team lost again, but being guilty is pretty high on the list, I reckon.’

‘What about being innocent when everyone
thinks
you’re guilty?’ Thorne glanced at his friend. ‘What about knowing you’re probably never going to see your family again?’

‘Fair enough, but aren’t you even going to consider the possibility that you might be wrong?’

‘I thought you were on board with this.’

‘OK, then, that
we
might be wrong?’

The ultra-stern sat-nav woman told Thorne to take the first exit off the next roundabout.

‘No,’ he said. Another glance at Hendricks. ‘And that’s to you, not her.’

A car coming in the other direction had its headlights on main beam. Thorne flashed and the driver dipped his lights, but Thorne swore at him anyway.

‘What if he’d died?’ Hendricks asked.

‘I’m not with you.’

‘If Bates had actually managed to kill himself. Would you have let it go?’

‘He didn’t though, did he?’

‘Yeah, but if he had. Guilty or not, if he was dead you could just forget the whole thing and go back to your holiday. Get some sun on those pasty legs.’

For a few seconds, Thorne toyed with the kind of line that was trotted out in American cop shows. A serious look and a few desperately heartfelt words just before the ad break.

The dead deserve justice every bit as much as the living
.

That kind of thing.

He knew that Hendricks would be the last person to buy it and the first to take the piss, so in the end he just settled for the truth.

‘If I’m right, I want to damn well prove I’m right.’

Linda Bates had left the house like a schoolgirl on a spree, but she returned like a middle-aged woman with the weight of the world on her shoulders. With Helen close behind her, she walked as quickly as she was able along the path cleared for them by the ever-growing number of uniformed officers. Her eyes stayed fixed on the front door as the cameras flashed on either side; the comments and curses making it clear that many already knew where she had spent the last few hours, and why.

He should have finished the job
.

He obviously can’t live with what he’s done so how the hell can you?

They could sense the atmosphere in the house straight away. Carson, Gallagher and two other officers in uniform stood silently in the kitchen, as though they had been waiting for them to get back, and Charli had begun calling for her mother from upstairs as soon as the front door had slammed shut.