Come the Fear (30 page)

‘Good work,' he told the others. ‘Rob, you've put in plenty of hours, go home and sleep. John, I want you to take most of the men and look for this Fanny across the river.'

‘Yes, boss.'

The Constable smiled and rubbed his hands together. ‘I've a good feeling about today, I think we'll find her.'

‘What about Wendell?' Lister asked.

‘As soon as he's used to his new home I'm going to discover why he killed his sister.'

Rob unlocked the door of the house on Lower Briggate and entered. He could see his father at work, setting type slowly into blocks on the table, preparing the new edition of the
Mercury
. The man looked up briefly and beckoned with an ink-stained finger.

‘Who was that you took to the jail?' he asked.

‘Someone we've been looking for,' Rob answered. He knew not to pass on information.

‘You were all armed.'

‘Always better to be safe.'

Lister dug into one of the boxes in front of him, pulling out a piece of type and examining it before adding it to the article then wiping his hand on his dirty apron.

‘I hope you've thought more about what I said?' he asked

‘Marrying, you mean?'

‘Yes, that's exactly what I mean, and you know it.' He stopped and removed his spectacles. ‘Well, have you?'

‘I gave you my answer the last time,' Rob told him bluntly.

‘I'm offering you the chance to reconsider.' There was iron in his voice, his eyes flat and his mouth expressionless. ‘You're my son; when you're under my roof I expect you to obey my wishes.'

Bubbles of anger rose through Rob's exhaustion. ‘And if I won't?'

Lister regarded his son for a moment, then said, ‘Maybe your precious Constable can find you a bed in his house, because I won't have you in mine.' He put his glasses back on and returned to his work. ‘I warn you, though, if you choose to leave you'll come to regret it.'

‘And if I stay I might regret it even more.'

Rob turned away to the stairs.

‘Where are you going?'

‘To collect my things and find a room. There are plenty available.'

‘Not on what the city pays you. And you'll get nothing from me.'

‘I don't need much . . . Father.' He spat the word out viciously. ‘You've apparently made your decision, now it's my turn to make mine.'

The Constable brought two mugs of ale into the cell and offered one to Wendell.

‘I daresay you'll be thirsty.'

The man watched him cautiously from under his brows then reached for the cup and drank greedily. Nottingham leaned against the wall.

‘I know you killed her,' he said.

‘You do, do you?' Something that was almost a smile flickered across Wendell's lips. ‘And how do you know that?'

‘Why else would you have run when we came to ask you about her?'

The man shrugged. ‘Happen I just don't get along with the law,' he answered.

‘I'm sure you don't. But in this case I don't believe you.'

‘You can believe what you like. You've been telling everyone what you think I did.'

‘I know you did it, Peter. I'm just wondering why.' The Constable took a sip of his ale. ‘That's what I can't see. Why would anyone kill his sister?'

‘You keep saying that. But there's nowt to prove it.'

‘You might be surprised.'

Wendell's eyes shone and his mouth twitched slyly. ‘Mebbe I would. And mebbe I never killed our Lucy at all.'

‘Oh, you did,' Nottingham told him with certainty, watching the man's face closely. ‘You did. What was it, you saw she was having a child?'

‘Why would I give a bugger if she was going to have a babby?'

‘You tell me.'

‘I was the one who looked after her. I was the one who loved her. Don't believe what that old cow tells you, she couldn't wait to have Lucy out the house.' Wendell had found his voice now and the Constable wanted to keep him talking.

‘She wasn't a bright lass, I heard.'

Wendell shrugged again. ‘She'd do owt for anyone, would Lucy. People didn't want to know her because of her lip, but she were a lovely girl.'

‘She was scared of seeing you. That's why she didn't come to you or to her mother when she was dismissed.'

‘Me? Why'd she be scared of me?' There was an edge of fury in his tone. ‘I told you, I looked after her.'

But Nottingham understood now, it had all come clear.

‘You looked after her very well, didn't you, Peter?'

‘I made sure nowt bad happened to her.'

‘And you loved her like more than a sister.' Wendell leapt upright, lunging forward as far as he could. The Constable didn't move. ‘Didn't you?'

‘You fucking bastard.'

‘That was why you killed her. The baby was yours, wasn't it? And you thought that if she burned in that fire, no one would ever know.' He could see Wendell's face growing redder, his fists clenching and knew he was right. ‘You killed her, then you ripped the child out of her and you tried to burn them both.'

The man held up his wrists. ‘Take these off me and I'll kill you. I'll fucking kill you.'

‘What was it?' Nottingham continued, pushing and probing. ‘Did you think she'd tell someone who the father was? Had you threatened her, is that why she tried to hide from you?'

The veins stood out on Wendell's neck, the thick, heavy muscles of his arms straining.

‘She trusted you to look after her and that's what you did. When you saw what had happened you threatened her and then you killed her.'

‘I loved her!' Wendell shouted.

‘You loved her so you killed her. Is that the same love you show that girl of yours when you take your fists to her?' Nottingham kept his voice contained and even. ‘Did she know about you and Lucy?' The man was silent, breathing heavily, pulling on his chains. ‘No, I'm sure she didn't, the same way your mother didn't.'

He waited, letting the silence grow in the room until it became oppressive. He had time. He took another small sip of the ale, seeing the hatred and guilt on Wendell's face.

‘She came to me,' the man said finally.

‘Lucy?'

He nodded.

‘When?'

‘Two year back. Someone had said no man would ever love her.'

‘And you showed her he was wrong.'

‘I was holding her. She was warm, she needed someone to care about her.' Wendell sat down again and looked at the ground.

‘But it never stopped.'

‘No,' he admitted dully.

‘It all changed when she was dismissed, didn't it?' the Constable asked softly.

‘She didn't even understand what was going on. She came to find me. I'd just left the Talbot.'

‘What did you tell her?'

‘I said if she told anyone, if she went to see our mam, I'd kill her. I hit her.'

‘So she ran.'

He nodded.

‘But you found her again, didn't you?'

‘She was up near Town End. I'd been looking for her.'

‘What happened then, Peter?'

Wendell remained quiet for a long time. Outside, the Constable could hear voices and carts as they passed. In the cell it was as if time had come to a stop.

‘I told her I was sorry and that I'd look after her if she'd come with me.'

‘Where did you take her?'

‘There's a house on Cripplegate. It's fallen down but you can still get into the cellar. I told her to stay there and locked her in. I took food to her every day.'

‘How long did you keep her there?' the Constable asked.

‘A while. I had to decide what to do. I thought we could leave together, go somewhere else. But she'd have said summat sooner or later.'

‘So you killed her.'

Wendell raised his head to look at Nottingham. His eyes were wet with tears.

‘There was nothing else I could do. I couldn't trust her not to say anything. If she had, that would have been the end of us. It was for the best, for her, for me. It was the only way.'

‘And then you thought you'd burn her body.'

‘If there was nothing left, no one would know,' the man said as if it was obvious. ‘They'd have thought she'd left Leeds, gone. Everything would have been all right.'

‘But why that house on the Calls? Why so close to where your mother lived?'

‘Because those bastards round there had always made fun of her when we went to visit our mam,' he said simply. ‘If a few of them died it would be no loss, it would be revenge. Let them fucking suffer.'

‘And you ripped the baby out of her.'

‘If it hadn't been for the babby, everything would have been all right.' He knitted his fingers together, pushing and squeezing. ‘It could all have gone on like it did before. I hated it.'

At his desk, Nottingham sat in silent contemplation. He'd spent weeks imagining the reasons for Lucy Wendell's death, but he'd never suspected the truth of it. It proved to be so much bigger, and so much smaller, than he could have thought.

It made sense to Peter Wendell, as if he'd had no other choice. Everything he did had followed a straight path and he could never have turned from it. In his own mind it all seemed completely logical, so plain and straightforward. He'd never understand how twisted and warped it appeared from the outside.

The Constable pushed the fringe back off his forehead. The man would hang, there was no doubt of it. He'd confessed; everyone would be repulsed by what he'd done. And he deserved it. He'd loved her, but it was love that had grown into a sick, sad thing, one that pulled and ripped at Lucy's innocence, then made her pay the price for his sin.

It would destroy Alice Wendell when she learned it all. But he knew he had to tell her. He'd given his word, and it was better for her to learn it from him before it became public property. She'd blame herself, not the son whose fault it really was.

He poured more ale and drank, barely tasting it as it slipped down his throat. He thought he'd seen every type of inhumanity, more evil than any lifetime should contain. But nothing like this, and all of it in the name of what Wendell deemed love.

The man was mad, not a madness of mind but one that had clawed deep in his soul. It was beyond cure, beyond any help. Only his death on the gallows could end it. He swirled the drink around in the mug, watching the liquid move.

The door opened and Rob walked in and sat down.

‘Can't sleep?' Nottingham asked.

‘I thought I should tell you, I've taken a room with Widow Foster.'

‘Over on the Lower Head Row?'

‘Yes.'

The Constable looked at him quizzically.

‘My father told me either to do his bidding or leave.'

‘I'm sorry,' Nottingham said.

‘I'll see Emily after school and tell her. Did Wendell confess?'

‘Yes, as much as you can call it that. He thought he did the only thing he could do.'

‘What?'

‘It doesn't matter, lad. Not now.' The Constable shook his head. ‘You walk Emily home later and stay for your supper. You'll be welcome.'

‘Thank you, boss.'

Nottingham stood up.

‘Where are you going?' Rob asked.

‘I have to tell a woman a story that's going to break her heart,' he said.

It was an afternoon of frustration. Someone would think they knew Fanny and send the deputy to another street, a different house, but each time it was a chase that led him nowhere.

The men had no better luck, and finally he sent them home before making his last round of the day. He was eager to be home, to talk to James, caught between thrashing him and loving him, and so fearful of everything the future might bring.

Con was playing his fiddle on the Bridge, and they exchanged a few words before the deputy moved on to check all the usual places. Everything was quiet and he left Leeds to its night, walking up Lands Lane and opening his door.

James was sitting at the table, scooping pottage from an old, cracked bowl with a spoon. Lizzie had scrubbed him clean and put him in fresh clothes, and Sedgwick could feel his heart ache as he looked at his son.

‘All rested?' he asked, tousling the boy's hair before kissing Lizzie as she changed Isabell, the baby chuckling softly.

‘Yes, Papa.'

He sat across from the boy. ‘You had a big adventure.'

James lowered his eyes. ‘I'm sorry,' he said.

‘Were you scared?' Sedgwick asked.

The boy nodded. ‘Sometimes,' he admitted.

The deputy moved as Lizzie settled down next to him on the bench, her hand light on his thigh. She was cradling Isabell, and he noticed the quick look of resentment the lad gave the baby.

‘Was it fun?' he asked.

‘Yes.' James's eyes brightened. ‘Well, it was at first. It's so big outside the city. I wanted to get to Kirkstall Abbey but I didn't know which way to go.'

His father smiled. ‘Why didn't you come home?'

‘I could hear everyone looking for me and I thought they'd all be angry if they found me.'

‘We were worried about you,' Lizzie said.

‘Your mam's right, lad. We just wanted you back and safe.'

‘I'm sorry,' James repeated, his cheeks reddening.

‘You know Isabell's going to look up to you when she's a little older, don't you?' Lizzie asked him.

‘But she can't do anything.'

‘Not yet. She will. You couldn't when you were her age, either,' the deputy said with a small grin. ‘So we did everything for you, like we do for her. You're older now, you can do more for yourself.'

‘It doesn't mean we love you any less,' Lizzie said. ‘We love you just as much as we ever did.'

‘It's true, we do,' Sedgwick agreed.