Stalked By Shadows (32 page)

‘She called me.’

‘What?’

‘She rang me last week on my mobile. She said that you and she had started going out; she’d realised that I was important to you, and wanted to know just how important. I did think it was a bit strange, but understandable, I suppose.’

‘Christ, she must have picked up your number from my mobile. I thought I was losing my marbles, because she mentioned your name and I felt sure that I hadn’t talked to her about you. What did you tell her?’

‘The truth,’ Anna said, with a shrug. ‘That we were an item, but that now I’m with someone else. She seemed satisfied with that. Is it serious?’

‘No! It’s nothing, it’s finished, I mean, it never was anything; one night plus her imagination,’ Mariner babbled on. ‘I actually thought I had a stalker on my hands at one point but I think she was just lonely.’

He paused. ‘I really miss you,’ he said, his voice catching. ‘I fucked up so badly.’

‘You did,’ she said, holding his gaze. ‘Still, now we’ve both moved on. And who knows how long it would have lasted anyway? Maybe it was for the best.’

Maybe?
‘What if -’

Anna checked her watch. ‘God, I should go back to Lottie,’ she said, gathering her bags. ‘She’ll think I’ve abandoned her.’

Reluctantly, Mariner walked her back to where they’d met.

‘It’s been great to see you.’ Stretching up to kiss his cheek, she rubbed his arm affectionately, her touch lingering, Mariner thought, for a moment longer than necessary. ‘Take care, eh?’

‘You too.’ It was the most he could manage.

‘Byee.’

Mariner watched her disappear through the glass swing doors and into the store. She didn’t look back, but nonetheless he felt a sudden surge of optimism.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Seeing Anna had been a welcome distraction from Mariner’s Sunday undertaking, which was to help Kat to move her things to her new flat. Concealing his disappointment as best he could, he helped her to load up his car with her few boxes of possessions, and drove her over to the flat in Moseley. He was re-running in his head yet again his encounter with Anna when, in a momentary lapse of concentration, he overshot a roundabout.

‘Tom!’ Kat yelled, and Mariner slammed on his brakes just in time. The oncoming driver blared his horn and could clearly be seen mouthing obscenities. Mariner was tempted to get out of the car with his warrant card and teach the bastard a lesson, but he calmed himself, well aware of how these things could escalate. Only a few minutes earlier they’d caught the news headlines, dominated by a couple who had been attacked the previous night.

‘I think your head is in the clouds today,’ Kat said mildly.

‘I saw Anna yesterday,’ Mariner told her.

‘Ah, I think you miss her.’

‘Yes, I do.’

Kat’s new home was compact, modern and airy; a far cry from Mariner’s traditional canalside cottage. It wasn’t what he would have chosen, identical as it was to the hundreds of others in the complex, but it was ideal for a young woman starting out, and Kat was thrilled with it, proudly showing him round everything. Mariner unaccountably got a lump in his throat, but all the same it took him by surprise when she dissolved into tears. ‘I think my mum and dad would like this very much,’ she said suddenly. ‘Is better than the place they live in Tirana.’

Mariner put a comforting hand on her arm. ‘They’d be very proud of you,’ he agreed. ‘But maybe they will get to see it. Are you still thinking of contacting them?’ he asked.

She sniffed. ‘Yes, one day, I think.’

‘In the meantime, lunch.’

Mariner took her to the Selly Park Tavern, then afterwards they went for a blustery walk around Cannon Hill Park, where they walked past the models of the Elan valley dams. It had rained on and off all day, but there were plenty of families enjoying the park and feeding the ducks. When they returned to her flat, Giles was there, waiting in his car with a big bunch of flowers.

‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ Mariner felt suddenly awkward.

‘But you come and see me soon.’ Kat smiled. ‘Is not so far.’ Tentatively she put her arms on his shoulders and hugged him. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered in his ear.

Back home the house seemed very empty without Katarina. Over the years the place had seen a number of lodgers, among them, at one time, Tony Knox. But maybe this had all worked out for the best. Now if Mariner needed to sell up at short notice he could. It would all depend on Anna. OK, she hadn’t outright admitted that things were not going well with Dr Gareth, but he was sure he’d detected some uncertainty there. He still had the contact number for her in Herefordshire. Maybe his next weekend walk would be out there and he’d just ‘drop in’ to see her. He could phone her now and pave the way, but when he tried the number there was no reply. On a Sunday afternoon they’d be in the pub probably, Mariner thought, remembering the very attractive village inn. Still, he had the rest of the week to get hold of her.

The thought of Anna’s local turned him to thinking about a drink. Mariner’s nearest pub, the Boatman, had been recently refurbished, all the rooms knocked into one, children and families welcome. But sometimes desperation prevails and, having grabbed his coat and keys from the hook in the hall, he slammed the door behind him.

Mariner was in reasonable spirits driving in to Granville Lane on Monday morning. The Boatman hadn’t been as bad as he’d feared, the novelty of the new facilities clearly wearing off, and leaving the pub as quiet on a Sunday evening as he had ever known it. He’d even managed a couple of games of dominoes with one of the old regulars. He missed Kat being around, but it didn’t mean that he’d be on his own for long. All that was needed to consolidate this new-found optimism would be for the surveillance op to reap its rewards.

But the day didn’t start well. On Mariner’s desk was an urgent message for him to contact IT technician Max. Knox appeared while Mariner was making the call, and his slight incline of the head told Mariner that it had been a no-show. He confirmed as much when Mariner hung up the phone.

‘We have to be prepared for that,’ said Mariner, though he could tell that Knox was disappointed. ‘It’s not our only setback.’

‘What else?’

‘That was Max on the phone,’ Mariner said. ‘They’ve just realised that Martin Bonnington’s computer clock is twelve hours adrift, which means he has an alibi for a lot of the computer activity. It’s looking like he might have had a hacker after all.’

‘Shit,’ said Knox.

‘That’s two pieces of crap news,’ said Mariner cheerfully. ‘And here’s DCI Sharp with the third.’

Sharp had appeared in the doorway, her face grim, and Mariner’s remark failed to raise a smile. ‘Could you give us a moment, Tony?’ she said.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ Knox got up from where he was perched on a low filing cabinet. He walked out into the bull pen, curious that everyone seemed to be standing around waiting expectantly. ‘What’s going on?’ he asked. But before anyone could tell him, an agonised howl ripped through the air from Mariner’s office behind him.

‘You heard about that road-rage incident on the M5 on Saturday night?’ Millie said quietly.

‘Yeah, I caught somethin’ about it on the news,’ said Knox, puzzled. ‘But they hadn’t named -’

‘It was Anna Barham,’ said Millie.

‘Christ almighty,’ breathed Knox, turning to stare at Mariner’s office.

‘I’m so sorry, Tom,’ Sharp said.

Mariner sat at his desk, head in his hands, clawing at his scalp. ‘I don’t understand.’ He looked up at Sharp, beseeching her to say it wasn’t true; that she’d made a mistake; that it was a cruel prank. ‘I just saw her,’ he said, as if that could change things. ‘What happened?’

‘She was a passenger in a Porsche driven by a Dr Charles Morse,’ Sharp said, quietly. ‘They were driving from Birmingham back to Hereford on Saturday evening, and got into some altercation with another driver. He and his mates followed them to the exit junction, waited until they were out in the wilds before forcing them off the road and attacking Morse. It looks as if Anna tried to intervene. They each died from multiple stab wounds, Morse at the scene and Anna on the way to hospital. Another woman survived the incident. I’m really sorry, Tom.’ Going round to where Mariner sat, she placed a hand on his back. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘No,’ Mariner whispered, ‘thank you, ma’am.’ And as Sharp closed the door behind her Mariner jumped up from his seat and swept the contents of his desk on to the floor.

‘Anything you want us to do, ma’am?’ Knox asked, as Sharp walked past them to return to her office.

Gazing in at Mariner, Sharp shook her head sadly. ‘Just keep doing your job,’ she said. ‘Is everything in hand for tonight’s surveillance?’

‘Yeah, it’s my shift, ma’am.’

‘Well, at least let’s try to get a result for him, eh?’

For some time CID remained unnaturally quiet; everyone kept their heads down trying to ignore the raging figure that could be seen pacing from side to side.

After forty minutes Mariner’s door opened and, staring straight ahead, he walked purposefully across the bull pen, down the stairs and out of the building. All they could do was watch him go.

Throughout, Mariner had remained dry eyed, the overwhelming pain in the centre of his chest, like a vortex, sucking him dry. He got in his car and drove too fast up to Monument Hill where he could park and look out over the panoramic view south, towards the Malverns and beyond, to the place where she had perished. As he switched off the engine the tears came, and once they came they would not stop.

He must have sat there for hours gazing numbly out at the horizon because suddenly he became aware that it was getting dark, and his limbs were stiff with cold. His head felt muzzy with grief. Mariner got out of his car and walked in the dusk up to the miniature fortress that marked the top of the hill, immune to the cold wind that cut through his shirt. Pinpricks of light were beginning to appear in the urban sprawl below. He and Anna had stood up here to watch the new year fireworks. It seemed a lifetime ago. ‘We’ve everything to look forward to,’ she had said at the time. How wrong could anyone be?

The next hours were a blur. When Mariner got home there were messages from Knox, wanting to know if he was all right, and from DCI Sharp. ‘I’ve arranged compassionate leave,’ she said. ‘Take as long as you need.’

Mariner had abused his position and harassed West Mercia police for details of the incident, but they could tell him little more than was on the news. Already the story was starting to drop off the national cycle completely, and he was reduced to searching the Internet for scraps.

On Tuesday morning he got up and dressed at six in the morning. In his car, he retraced Anna’s last journey, down the motorway, off the exit and on to the country lane where it had happened. He had no trouble finding it. On this sunny early spring day the narrow lane running between tall hawthorn hedges was bursting with life, the bright-green leaves beginning to push through the buds. A bedraggled strand of crime-scene tape provided an obscene counterpoint. Just beside it, on the road, was a dark stain. It could have been anything, but to Mariner’s experienced eye it was unmistakable. He crouched on his haunches and again his vision blurred.

Afterwards he drove on into Upper Burwell, the village where Anna had made her home. His plan had been to offer his condolences in person to Gareth, but now he couldn’t bear to even think of another man grieving for her. Instead, he drew up outside the chocolate-box cottage that he remembered as Becky and Mark’s. Becky, Anna’s former assistant, had been the catalyst for Anna’s longing for the rustic life. They’d stayed here once for a few days, back when it was ‘Tom and Anna’. It was when she had started to pull away from him.

‘Tom.’ Becky was shocked to see him and momentarily Mariner thought he’d made a terrible mistake, but then her arms were around him and she was weeping into his shoulder. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘It’s just too awful.’

‘I want to find out exactly what happened,’ Mariner said. ‘Do you think Lottie would talk to me?’

‘We can try.’

Mariner wondered if Lottie would even remember him, they had only met on one occasion. In the event it didn’t seem to matter. Lottie was too dazed to notice and he couldn’t begin to imagine how she must be feeling. But there was little she could tell him beyond what he already knew.

‘If there’s anything I can do . . .’ Mariner found himself saying to this woman who was a stranger.

He repeated the mantra to Becky as they walked back to the house, though it was said automatically; a futile gesture. So, it was unexpected when she said, ‘Actually, Tom, there might be. The thing is, nobody’s cancelled the wedding coordinator. I don’t think anyone can bring themselves to do it and I daren’t raise it with Lottie. As you’re up in Birmingham anyway, and in your official capacity, could you call in on your way home and explain to them what has happened? I can give you all the details.’

It was, in truth, the last thing that Mariner wanted to do, but he’d made the offer, how could he possibly refuse, despite the gaping hole in his world? Armed with his warrant card, he made his way into the city centre. He would make himself useful and do what Becky had asked. Retracing his steps along Corporation Street, between the high buildings, Mariner had to pass by the spot where he’d bumped into Anna just a few days ago. He lingered on the pavement for a moment, remembering the way the sun had glinted on her hair, the animated expression on her face, the image so powerful he felt he could reach out and touch her. Only when he saw an elderly woman staring up at him did he realise that he was weeping. Wiping his eyes, he ventured into Brackleys, running the gamut of the aftershave sales girls, and caught the escalator up to the fourth floor.

The wedding department staff were upset and sympathetic. They’d had no reason to connect a random news item with their client. It was unprecedented, and the young assistant Mariner spoke to had to go and fetch the manager, leaving him to wait in one of the private booths that they used. This was clearly big business and Mariner idly wondered how much was charged for this service. Restless and unable to settle, he paced the tiny enclosure. Certificates on the wall announced the awards for past Wedding Coordinators of the Year. Designed to impress customers, no doubt, but what the hell did it mean? His attention was drawn to one in particular.