Ready or Not (37 page)

             
The team dispersed leaving Chris and Clayton alone with their separate concerns.

             
‘I don’t know about you,’ Chris said, ‘but I’m getting out there. We’ll be more use to them out looking than we will in here, hoping for the best. I’m damned if I’m going to sit by a bloody phone while she’s out there somewhere with that bastard.’             

             
Clayton nodded in agreement. ‘You’re not going alone.’

             
‘Right,’ Chris said, reaching for his jacket. ‘Then where the hell do we start?’

Fifty
Two

Neil laughed loudly and suddenly like a man possessed. It shattered the silence, echoed off the walls and bounced back, hitting Kate in the face. Matthew responded with a laugh of his own, but the laugh was hollow and dead; an empty echo of the puppet master’s. Kate couldn’t take her eyes off Sophie; the angry look had now subsided, replaced by one of hurt confusion and disbelief.

             
Kate knew exactly how she felt. She was still speechless, totally confused and in a turmoil over what Neil had said. He was her brother? It was shit. It wasn’t possible.

             
What a total bastard.

             
Neil shifted behind Kate, his hand still on her back. ‘Was that a nice surprise?’ he whispered.

             
She stepped away and turned to face him, momentarily ignoring the gun that he still held in his hands. Her head felt hot with rage, but her heart was sinking. It sank further when she heard her own voice; when all she was able to manage was a trembling, ‘What?’

             
‘I feel like we should have made more of an effort now,’ Neil said to Matthew. ‘Balloons, perhaps? A cake?’

             
Matthew smiled. ‘Bit of music would have been good,’ he added.

             
Kate looked at Claire. She had woken again and, clearly disorientated, was trying to lift her head to look at Sophie. Ben had stopped crying. He was bewildered and scared; his eyes small and wary. He watched Kate with suspicion, as though she too was the enemy; as though there were now three people he should fear, instead of just two.

             
Sophie made a noise, wriggling in her chair and desperately trying to speak through the cloth that was filling her mouth. Neil crossed the room and went to her. He put a hand on her shoulder.

             
‘You know, she’s quite like you,’ Neil said to Kate. ‘Talks too much.’

             
Sophie’s face contorted as she continued to struggle to make herself heard.

             
‘Why are you doing this?’ Kate asked. A tear stained her cheek, but there was nothing she could do to hide it this time.

             
‘She doesn’t recognise me, Sophie,’ Neil said, looking down at his daughter’s head. ‘Is it the hair, Katy? I dyed it especially for you. I preferred it blond myself, but I didn’t want to give the game away too early. You do recognise me, don’t you Katy? You feel something, don’t you?’

             
Matthew Curtis paced behind Kate. The sound of his shoes on the warehouse floor made her nervous, uncomfortable; she wanted to scream at him to stand still, as though reprimanding a naughty child.

             
Neil nodded to Matthew, who lunged suddenly towards Kate and grabbed her tied back hair in his hands. His fingers gripped the hair close to her scalp and she grimaced, trying to pull herself away from him. As she did so, Matthew’s hold grew tighter. She stopped resisting, feeling her scalp burn.

             
‘Answer the question,’ Matthew told her.

             
‘What?’ Kate said, ignoring Matthew and addressing Neil. ‘What am I supposed to tell you?’

             
‘Tell us how you felt, Kate,’ he said encouragingly, spreading his arms wide. ‘Tell us all how I made you feel.’

             
When she didn’t speak, Matthew pushed the back of her head as a prompt. ‘You’re sick, you know that?’ she said.

             
Neil circled, studying the blood that had dried on her face. ‘Poor Katy,’ he said, patting her cheek. ‘So desperate to be loved that she falls for her own brother.’

             
Kate shook her head in denial. Behind her, Matthew laughed. He moved his head beside Kate’s, his lips so close they were almost touching her skin. ‘Now who’s the sick one?’ he said sneeringly.

             
‘Let her go,’ Neil instructed and Matthew obeyed without argument. Kate wondered how long Matthew had been dominated by Neil and to what extent he would allow himself to be treated like the man’s own personal lap dog before turning and biting back.

             
Neil inhaled loudly and sighed. ‘I feel a connection to him,’ he said, mimicking a female voice; her voice, Kate realised. ‘I can’t explain how, or why – I just do.’ He smiled thinly.

             
Kate turned to look at Matthew, who grinned back at her. Shit, she thought. How long had he been listening into her conversations with Chris? How much did he know? Everything, of course, she answered herself.

             
‘Why would you do that? Why would you tell him?’ she spat at Matthew.

             
Matthew shrugged irritatingly. ‘I didn’t realise it was classified information,’ he said, still wearing a manic smile. If her hands hadn’t been cuffed, Kate thought, she would have happily punched him in the face.

             
‘Matthew’s been keeping a little eye on you for me, haven’t you? Didn’t fancy joining up myself. Too much paperwork. Would have spoiled all the fun if you’d found out it was me, wouldn’t it? May as well have done it myself for the amount of training I’ve had to give him. He’d never have got into the force if it hadn’t been for me.’

             
Neil nodded in Matthew’s direction and rolled his eyes disapprovingly. His sidekick, visibly offended by the expression and the comment, narrowed his eyes defensively; a kicked puppy that had earlier pretended to be a terrier.

             
Neil kept his arms spread, maintaining the theatrics. ‘Now does it make sense?’ he asked. He winked at Kate and she looked away, repulsed.

             
Nothing made sense. She had told Neil too much, had confided in him too intimately, too soon, and now he was using everything she’d trusted him with in order to manipulate her. But Matthew was involved, there was no denying that. And she had always wondered about Matthew. Wondered why he was so distracted; so awkward.

             
And hadn’t Chris made several comments suggesting the same doubts?

             
‘You are not my brother,’ she spat angrily.

             
Neil feigned a hurt look. ‘Funny,’ he said. ‘That’s just what our daddy said. Our father. Who art definitely not in heaven.’

             
Kate couldn’t disguise the tremor in her voice. ‘My father is dead,’ she said indignantly.

             
Neil frowned. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I was there. Don’t worry - it was all over pretty quickly. He didn’t suffer much.’

             
Kate shook her head, trying to take in what he’d said. It couldn’t be true, she thought. It couldn’t be. Her father had died alone in the house where she’d grown up. He’d had an asthma attack in the hallway, too far from the phone to call someone for help. He’d been found two days later when the postman looked through the letter box and saw him lying on the hallway floor.

             
His asthma pump had been found on the window sill in the living room, next to the only photograph of Kate that he had still on display in the house.

             
‘You know what he said to me, right before he died?’ Neil asked tauntingly, stepping towards her. ‘After asking me to get his inhaler, of course. Who’d have thought that would happen, eh? More likely that he’d have had a heart attack at seeing me after all these years. You know what he said? He said sorry. Sorry. Now…why would he say that, I wonder?’

             
Blood pounded through Kate’s veins, giving her new found strength. The bitterness she had felt for her mother and the love for her father gathered inside her and concentrated itself on this thing in front of her and before she had time to think about what she was doing, she charged towards Neil like a berserker. She lowered her head, like a battering ram. Matthew, who had had his back to Kate, watching the others, was too slow to respond. He tried to reach her, but she was already too close to Neil, who swung his arm around and pulled the trigger.

Fifty
Three

Clayton and Chris left town and made their way south down the A470. Neither believed that Neil, or Kate and Matthew would still be in Pontypridd, although neither knew of any possible alternative; except, of course, maybe Cardiff, where Jamie Griffiths had been killed. Neither of them wanted to admit that by now, they could have been anywhere.

             
              ‘We still don’t know whether or not Davies was behind that killing. It was sloppier than the other two,’ Clayton reminded Chris.

             
‘Trust me,’ Chris said. ‘I know it.’

             
He thought of Kate and her belief in hunches and prayed that she would be ok. He should never have let her get involved in this, he thought; he had put her in danger and it had backfired on them both. If anything happened to her, it would be his fault entirely. Chris didn’t want to have to live with that.

             
He didn’t think he physically could.

             
His fists tightened around the steering wheel and he breathed deeply. When she got out of this he was going to make sure that he made it up to her. He’d do everything he could to protect her. He would never question her motives for taking on this job in the first place and if she decided to leave he would support her decision to go. He would stay; he would earn enough for the both of them, so that she never had to face this kind of danger again.

             
If
she got out of this.

             
‘Why those particular men?’ Clayton asked. ‘How did he choose?’

             
Chris leaned against the head rest and sighed wearily. ‘I think,’ he said, ‘he’s targeting men who have what he’s lost. Wife and two kids – one boy, one girl. Each of the three murdered men was carrying a secret. Wife beater, adulterer, homosexual. Maybe Davies is punishing them. Maybe he can’t bear to see other men with the things he no longer has in his own life. Especially undeserving buggers who don’t appreciate what they’ve got. Maybe he’s equating them with himself and doesn’t like what he sees.’

             
Clayton tapped the steering wheel distractedly. ‘I dunno, sounds a bit airy fairy. From what we’ve learned,’ he said, ‘Davies lost his kids through no one’s fault but his own, right? Surely he’s only himself to blame? He sure as hell didn’t deserve what he had.’

             
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Chris said. ‘Perhaps his personal guilt is the driving force. When his wife died, he was having an affair with her sister. Maybe that’s what’s behind it. He was doing wrong, he lost out. Karma punished him for his crimes. Maybe he thinks everyone else should receive the same treatment.’

             
Clayton shook his head. ‘I don’t know, Chris,’ he said. ‘That’s a lot of maybes. What about this ‘Adam’ that Dean Williams mentioned? Why would Neil Davies be involved in the Stacey Reed case?’

             
This, more than anything, eluded Chris. There was no logical reason – none that Chris could see anyway – why Neil Davies would have encouraged the Williams’ cousins to kidnap the little girl. He had no connections to them; none to Stacey Reed. He’d had nothing to gain from it.

             
It didn’t make sense that he had lied about knowing his own son’s whereabouts either. He had spent a lot of time with Kate that week; he must have known that she was also heading the investigation into the missing girl. Two missing children: both involving Neil. Nothing to gain from the disappearance of either.

             
Except…

             
Chris gripped the inside of the passenger door. ‘Shit,’ he muttered. ‘Shit!’