Cold Revenge (Willis/Carter #6)(100)
Yvonne Coombes pushed Bonny on the swing in the park. It was early June now and the weather was lovely. Willis was standing next to her.
‘I know it’s hard having to live in secret like this but it won’t be long now, and you and Bonny will be on your way to a new life in Australia. You’ve done such a great job, you’re clean now, and you’re going to have a great new start – a new life, new identity.’ Willis tried to say it with a smile but her heart was still solid with grief. She watched Bonny swing her legs and she could tell Yvonne was worn out by all the court appearances, all the questions. They were all worn out. ‘Just five more minutes,’ said Willis. ‘We’d better get you back inside.’
The last eight months had been taken up with the unfolding investigation into all the lost people that Douglas had kept in the lockup. Perry was trying to put as much blame on others as he could, but he was still facing a life sentence. Heathcote would get the same.
Chris Maxwell’s body was cremated and sent home to his family. Willis had been one of those to go into his room in King’s Cross. The photos of Chris and his mother and the articles about Douglas and Heather and the trial were all over the walls. There was a full account there, in Chris’s hand, of his life and about how he had never meant to kill Nicola. He had just wanted to ask her some questions. Mainly, it was all about his regrets over Heather.
Willis had been moved by one particular page of his writing, which said:
‘The night Heather disappeared I phoned everywhere and only Nicola answered. She promised she’d tell Heather I couldn’t make it; my mum had had a stroke and I missed the ferry to England. Then I heard Heather was missing, presumed dead, and Douglas was on trial. I waited all these years to hear that someone had found her body, that Douglas would never come out of prison and I would never have to tell what I saw and did, but it never happened and I knew, if I didn’t make it happen, then Heather would never get justice. I have done terrible things. I will never be a person who can live a normal life and enjoy the things others do. I carry the weight of all my crimes on me. Tony’s face haunts me every day. Over the years I have contemplated suicide many times and I know I am forever damaged by what I did with Douglas. But, I found friendship in the last week and I have some feelings of pride that my work might help to keep Douglas inside prison and may even find Heather one day.’
He’d been right under their noses all of that time and it unsettled Willis to know that they hadn’t picked up on it at all. She’d liked him but he had been troubled. He’d committed murder. But he’d died trying to get justice for those who had suffered at Douglas’s hands. Willis didn’t know how to feel about Chris Maxwell, or Ash as they now knew him to be. Maybe she never would.
Chapter 51
Saul the farrier had built his house with the kitchen and the living room on the first floor, bedrooms underneath. It gave him a lovely view over the gently rolling hillside. He was glad the Phillips family had moved away; he had watched Heather since the day she was brought home from the hospital, listened to her baby cries and his heart had broken for her. From his kitchen he could see both the side and front of the Phillipses’ house and the patio of the bungalow. He could see into the farmyard. He’d often talked to Heather, letting her ride Murphy around his fields that he’d left as meadow, or loaned to Truscott for the sheep to graze. He put up some jumps sometimes – just planks over barrels, no more than two feet high. Murphy was too old to be put through more than that but he still loved jumping. At the start of the foot and mouth all the animals in the fields had to be destroyed, except the horses. They didn’t get the disease but they couldn’t be moved, they couldn’t even be walked down the lane. Food was hard to come by for them. Generations of sheep, which Saul could call by name, were slaughtered. Then came the slaughter of the horses. Truscott decided they were no longer viable. Saul was glad he had saved Murphy. He’d bought him from Truscott in the September after Heather disappeared. He’d looked after him and built him a shelter in Forge Field, next to his house, so he could watch him from his sitting room and could imagine Heather still there.
He was there the day they burned Ash’s van. He saw the black acrid smoke billow upwards and he saw Ash running. By the time Ash reached the van Douglas and Nicola were standing back and watching it burn.
‘Sorry,’ said Douglas, ‘I had to do it, it was just a stinking pile of shite in the end.’
‘You shouldn’t have done it,’ said Ash, ‘that was my home. My mum’s stuff is in there.’
‘I pulled out what looked usable, there’s a pile of shit over there.’ Douglas pointed to some clothes on the grass. ‘You can live with us.’
Douglas and Nicola walked away, arm-in-arm. Nicola turned back and grinned at Ash. Ash stood back as the flames ripped through his home.
Truscott came running across the field shouting. ‘Get back! Get away, it could explode.’
Douglas called over, ‘We took out the gas cylinder, there’s nothing going to explode. It’s just a pile of junk – you told me to get rid of it.’
‘Even so . . .’ Truscott looked guilty.
Nicola and Douglas had sat down on the patio at the back of the bungalow and opened beers. Nicola was rocking on the chair. Truscott marched across to talk to them. Nicola looked across at Ash. He was picking up what he wanted from the clothes and the belongings and putting them in a rucksack.