Daisy in Chains(92)

In another universe, someone screams.

‘Aw, Christ almighty.’ Wolfe has let her go, stepped back away from her. She is trembling. The reaction of her body to the threat of rape was nothing compared to this.

He bends forward and kisses her one last time. ‘Keep out of sight. Keep quiet. Someone will come.’

She is alone. She hears the door close, the key turn, then Hamish’s footsteps run lightly away down the corridor. She walks to the corner of the room, the one that cannot be seen from the door and sinks to the floor. She waits.





Chapter 90


PETE WALKS INTO the cid room to find a group of detectives gathered around Liz’s computer screen.

‘What’ve I missed?’ he asks, heading to his own desk.

‘Riot at Parkhurst,’ Sunday tells him.

The coffee Pete has brought with him overspills as he puts the cup down too quickly. ‘What are you looking at?’ he calls over.

Sunday names the police intranet site but it takes several seconds to load up. ‘Someone fill me in?’ he says.

‘Kicked off about noon,’ Sunday tells him. ‘Outside normal visiting hours. The place is still in lockdown. No one going in or out.’

Pete double-checks the date, although he hardly needs to. He knows that Maggie is visiting Wolfe today. As a lawyer, she won’t need to stick to visiting hours.

The site loads and he keys in HMP Parkhurst.

‘Can anyone give me an update on Parkhurst?’ Latimer has joined them now. ‘Nobody there’s answering the phones.’

‘It’s saying here the prison staff have regained control, sir,’ Sunday says. ‘The Governor’s quoted as saying it couldn’t be described as a riot, just an hour or so of disturbance, and that’s under control now.’

The page Pete is looking at has been assembled in a hurry. The header tells him it is the official intranet page of HMP Isle of Wight. Side menu bars list procedures, staff members, contact telephone numbers, publicly available documents and others that are confidential to the police. The main item on the home page, though, is a news feature.

Fighting broke out on H wing of Parkhurst Barracks at 1157 hours today and quickly escalated to spread to B and D wings. The prison is still low-staffed after the Christmas break and staff were momentarily caught off guard.

A state of emergency was declared and assistance from the local police service requested. Order was restored at 1323 hours.

Several inmates and three prison staff have required medical treatment. One officer and two inmates have been taken to the local hospital. The ringleaders have been placed in solitary confinement.

Several visitors were on the premises when the disturbances broke out. None of them were affected and all have since been escorted away from the prison.

Prison management are working on the theory that the disturbance was deliberately orchestrated, and that it could even have been intended as some form of distraction. All prisoners, though, have been accounted for.

Pete taps out a phone text.

You OK? You at Parkhurst?

Maggie’s response takes four minutes.

I’m fine. Just been allowed to leave. Trying to catch the next ferry. Were any of the inmates hurt, do you know?

Liz has left her own desk and wandered over to join him. Pete holds up his phone to let her read the exchange. She does so, then turns away without a word and goes back to her own computer. Pete passes on the information he has to Maggie. She doesn’t reply.





Chapter 91


WHEN MAGGIE UNLOCKS her door her hands are still shaking, just as they have been for hours now. The day just gone exists for her in a series of freeze-frames: the door of the interview room opening to admit armed police; being escorted out of Parkhurst while looking around every corner for one face; giving a statement at the Isle of Wight police station; declining medical attention; insisting on leaving as soon as she could; steering her car on to the ferry.

In the hours since Wolfe locked her in the interview room, she has existed in a mental vacuum. She cannot think about what has happened. Or where she goes from here.

Another text message arrives. Pete is trying to get in touch with her, has been all afternoon and evening. She types out a reply:

Going straight to bed. I’ll be in touch.

Later that evening, the phone rings. For several seconds she stares at it from across the room. It will say, number withheld, because calls from prison always do.

‘It’s me,’ he says.

‘I know.’ She sighs down the line.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I’m fine.’ She is not. She has never been further from fine and she knows that he knows it.

‘Good. When will I see you again?’

‘I’m not sure.’ She struggles for something appropriate to say. ‘I’m getting to the end of my search of the industrial estates. Just a few more to check. If I find anything, I’ll be in touch right away.’

‘Then I’ll have to hope you do.’

Silence falls again.

‘What happened today, Maggie?’ he asks her.

He isn’t talking about the riot. ‘It was the shock,’ she says. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight.’

‘I wasn’t thinking at all. That’s the effect you have on me.’

A lump is solidifying in her throat. She feels an urge to slam down the receiver, to end the call. At the same time, she wants it to go on for ever.