Shades of Evil (27 page)

‘But to kill your own daughter.’ Jill still couldn’t take it in. ‘To him, of course, it will have been an act of kindness. He truly believed she would never cope with her mother’s death and he couldn’t bear to stand by and watch her throw her life away. But she
was
coping. She
was
healing.’

‘It seems to me it was him who couldn’t cope,’ Max said, and Jill couldn’t agree more.

‘The poor kid spent years craving love. In the end, it was love that killed her.’

For Jill’s sake, Max would be glad when Christmas arrived. She looked sick of it all, and he couldn’t blame her. Her friend and neighbour, a man she trusted and respected, had been banged up on a murder charge and then left to fight for his life. One father had almost killed his son-in-law, another had killed his daughter.

Max parked his car on Jill’s neighbour’s driveway, just behind the caravan they were using for surveillance. Darkness had fallen quickly as it always did at this time of year.

‘This is a waste of time,’ Jill said. ‘He must know I’m not staying there. Why else would he have phoned me at the office?’

‘We don’t know, do we?’

He knew that, at the moment, she wasn’t too concerned about her mysterious caller. She was still too shaken. It was one thing to learn a killer’s identity, and another to see the murder taking place before your eyes.

She felt bad, too, he knew that. As always, she believed she should have led them to the killer.

What was done was done, and there could be no bringing back of the dead. As far as Max was concerned, there was nothing but good news. They had Lauren Cole’s killer, and her father’s. Yasmin Smith was back at home with her family. They even had the odious man responsible for Steve Carlisle’s spell in hospital.

Max was still concerned about the man intent on frightening Jill, though. There was no knowing what a person capable of killing a cat could do. Look at any psychopath’s history and you’d see a history of cruelty to animals.

‘Call this off, Max,’ Jill said. ‘It’s a waste of time. He knows I’m not there.’

‘We can’t be sure of that.’ He switched off the engine. ‘Come on, let’s go and see if anything’s been happening.’

They crossed the garden to the caravan and, after knocking briefly, stepped inside PC Glover’s temporary home. There was only one very tiny light, not visible from the outside, so it was impossible to see much at all.

‘Welcome,’ the PC greeted them. ‘Come in and make yourselves at home. Sorry, I only warranted the minicaravan but there’s just about enough room to stand and drink a coffee if you want one.’

‘We’ll pass, thanks.’ Max stared out into the darkness at Jill’s cottage. Lights were on in the hall and the sitting room. ‘Anything?’

‘Not so much as a stray cat in the garden.’

Max felt Jill shudder beside him, no doubt recalling the way the little stray had been killed.

‘What with this weather,’ PC Glover said, ‘it’s not surprising the world’s deserted.’ He broke off, stared into the darkness and then shook his head. ‘In the end, you start imagining there’s someone out there.’ He tapped his fingers on the table. ‘Dammit, I’m sure I just saw something.’

Max peered out, but could see nothing.

‘By the front door,’ PC Glover said, his voice urgent now.

Still Max could see nothing.

‘The security light would come on if anyone was there,’ Jill reminded them.

‘Yeah, perhaps it was my imagination,’ Glover said. ‘Sit here long enough and you go a little bit crazy.’

They all stared into the darkness and Max knew that after an hour of this, you would be seeing aliens. Or vampires. Or any damn thing you chose.

‘What time do you finish tonight?’ he asked Glover.

‘Ten. And then I’m off till after Christmas. A whole four days and I can’t wait.’

‘Have a good one,’ Max said. ‘Thanks for the offer of coffee, but we’ll leave you to it. We’re going into the cottage to collect a few things, so don’t send the dogs in.’

‘If only I warranted a dog,’ he muttered. ‘Oh, and a happy Christmas to both of you!’ he added.

They left the relative warm of the caravan and walked up the lane. Just as they were about to turn into the drive, Max spotted movement. There was no doubt in his mind. He grabbed Jill’s arm and put a hand over her mouth as he pulled her close to the hedge.

Max had his eyes on the cottage and, this time, there was no mistaking it. There was definitely a dark moving shape at the side of her cottage.

Any minute now, the security light would come on.

They stood quite still, trying not to breathe deeply. Still no light came on. Max knew it was either faulty or had been put out of action, and he suspected the latter.

There was something else. An odd smell was being carried towards them on the cold air.

The figure moved. All in black. In the dark.

Just as a tiny spark of light appeared, Max realized what that smell was. Petrol.

‘Shit!’

He ran forward and hurled himself at the moving figure.

He was aware of a huge, heavy-duty torch being raised. He even saw it coming down at great speed towards his head.

It was the last thing he did see.

It had been a strange Christmas morning. Without Max in it, his house had seemed quiet and empty, and given that there were two adults, two boys, three dogs and three cats in residence, that was ridiculous.

Getting through the morning had been a struggle. Jill was exhausted, too. She hadn’t slept for more than a couple of hours. She couldn’t stop shaking, either.

One good thing had come from this, though. Max’s father had woken up to the knowledge that life was to be lived whether he liked it or not. His son could have been killed last night. No one knew what was lurking round the corner so each moment had to be lived to the full.

‘Tell you what, Jill,’ Miles Trentham had said when lunch was over, ‘you can drop me and the boys off at Judy’s. We’ll hand over the presents and walk on up to the hospital. It’ll give you and Max some time alone,’ he’d added with a wink.

Jill, wanting that time with Max, hadn’t argued. She’d dropped them off at Judy’s house and arrived at the hospital alone.

Laden with carrier bags bulging with presents, food and a bottle of wine, she made her way to Max’s room.

When she pushed open the door, she was in time to see a very attractive nurse laughing with him. Typical, she thought. He’d be the star turn.

‘I’ll leave you to your visitor,’ the nurse said, giving Jill a smile that was difficult to return.

His room looked like Santa’s grotto. There were cards, balloons, a huge inflatable Santa and a big banner above his bed that read: The miracle of Christmas: a copper with a day off.

‘My God – Oh, don’t tell me, Grace has visited.’

‘How did you guess?’

‘Female intuition.’ She bent to kiss him. ‘How’s the head?’

‘No permanent damage and at least it’s stopped hurting.’

‘A pity. And the next time I tell you that one of your officers is unfit for the job, damn well listen to me.’

He patted the side of his bed. ‘How’s your cottage?’

‘Fine, thanks.’ She dumped her bags on the chair and sat on the edge of his bed. ‘It stinks of petrol but at least he didn’t have time to put a match to it. And I was thinking of getting a new carpet anyway.’

The stupid thing was, she was still shaking. If PC Glover hadn’t come to their aid…

‘It’s a good job you’ve done that Thai boxing,’ he murmured.

‘Ha. My instructor would have died of embarrassment if he’d seen me kick the bastard in the balls.’

Max laughed at that, and she relaxed a little.

The kick had been good enough to have him doubled up in pain and retching. She still hadn’t recovered from the shock, though. When PC Glover had removed that balaclava, she’d been horrified to find herself staring straight into Clive White’s face.

‘You?’ she’d cried in astonishment.

‘You jumped up prissy cow!’ He’d spat at her – and missed, thankfully. ‘You think you’re bloody God, don’t you? You think you can mess with people’s lives.’

‘No. I just recognize a bloody arsehole when I see one!’

Max reached for her hand and held it. Why, she wondered, did she always feel so vulnerable with him? And how long would it take for the sight of him, lying on the floor with blood pouring from his head, to start to fade?

How long, too, before she recovered from the shock of knowing that Clive White had wanted her dead? He’d planned to burn her cottage to the ground, thinking she was inside.

It was over. There was no point in tormenting herself. Yet she was still trembling.

‘A pity you missed lunch,’ she told Max, moving to easier subjects.

‘Oh, I don’t know.’

‘You had turkey? With all the trimmings?’

‘I certainly did. Served by the lovely Patricia, too.’

‘You always smell of roses, don’t you, Trentham?’

He smiled at that. ‘So how was your lunch? Please don’t tell me you cooked it. I have two sons and a father that I’m rather fond of.’

‘Me? Ha, I was promised lunch cooked by your fair hand. Instead, I had to ring round every blasted restaurant in Harrington. I started at the top and worked right down to the greasy spoons.’

‘Oh, dear.’

‘It was OK in the end.’ Sometimes there was nothing more enjoyable than a good gloat. ‘Tony’s rang me back late last night to say they had a cancellation.’

‘Tony’s?’ He whistled at that.

‘Yep. It was the best Christmas dinner I’ve ever had. Turkey with everything. The most delicious pud and you had to see the chocolates that came with the coffee to believe them. Pricey mind. It’s a good job I’ve had some decent winners lately. Oh, yeah, and even Ben and Harry enjoyed the champagne.’

He rolled his eyes at that.

‘No crackers?’ he asked.

‘Of course.’

Despite the easy banter, he looked pale and she guessed he was still in some pain.

‘I called in last night, but you were sleeping off the painkillers.’

‘I know. Sorry. And thanks. For coming I mean.’

She didn’t know what to say to that. There was something in the atmosphere that she couldn’t fathom.

‘I’ve brought you some wine,’ she said. ‘Can you drink it?’

‘Easy, kiddo. You just put it in your mouth and swallow.’

Perhaps it wasn’t the atmosphere. Perhaps it was the way he was looking at her. It was an all-knowing sort of look as if he could read her every thought. It was damned unsettling too.

‘There are a couple of small Christmas presents, too,’ she said, ‘but we thought we’d save the rest till we’re all together at home.’

She caught his sharp gaze and knew he was as surprised as she was that she’d said ‘at home’. She’d meant at ‘his’ home. Now that Clive White was under arrest, she and her cats could return to her cottage any time she liked.

He was looking completely relaxed, and that confused her. Usually, he was too impatient to be still.

She’d wanted this time alone with him but she found herself wishing that his father and sons would arrive to ease the tension a little. Tension on her side, she acknowledged. She knew that, for some reason, her face was the same shade as the Christmas balloon tied to his bed.

‘Are you concussed?’ Perhaps that would account for his relaxed, smiling demeanour.

‘A bit. Not concussed enough to forget your present, though.’ He reached into the small locker.

‘Blimey, what have you bought me from your hospital bed? Someone’s appendix that was going spare? A year’s supply of Elastoplast? Piles ointment?’

‘Better than that. Close your eyes.’

She did, but her heart was racing at a ridiculous pace.

‘You can open them now.’

In his hand was a ring. Fake gold with a plastic ‘ruby’, it had clearly come from a Christmas cracker.

‘No expense spared,’ he murmured, as he slipped it on to the third finger of her left hand. ‘Let’s get married, Jill.’

Knowing he was serious, she could only stare at him. And he stared straight back.

She tried to utter some clever, amusing little witticism but couldn’t. Her voice wouldn’t work for the huge lump that had found its way to her throat and decided to lodge itself there for the duration. Tears had sprung to her eyes causing an unpleasant stinging sensation.

‘Well?’ he asked.

Still the clever quip didn’t spring to her lips.

She was trying to think logically. Christmas was a time when people acted out of character. There was too much goodwill to all men about. Added to that, they’d had a stressful time of it lately. They’d found a killer, reunited a teenager with her parents, and arrested a priest for attempted murder. On top of that, Max was lying in a hospital bed when he should have been enjoying Christmas with his family. And that was thanks to the actions of a man he had trusted, a member of his team. It was no wonder that neither of them were thinking straight.

‘Well?’ he asked again.

The door crashed open, and Miles Trentham arrived with Harry and Ben.

‘Wow, cool balloons, Dad!’

‘That’s a wicked scar you’re going to have, Dad! And you only got hit with a torch. That’s amazing.’

Everyone tried to talk at once and Jill put her hands in her pockets. Surprisingly, the ring was a perfect fit.

Over an hour passed before the nurse came to evict them all.

‘He needs to rest,’ she told them sternly.

They grabbed coats and said their goodbyes.

Max held Jill’s hand longer than necessary.

‘Well?’

‘When are they letting you out?’ she asked, evading his question.

‘The Clarets are playing Bolton tomorrow. A three o’clock kick-off at the Turf.’

Jill supposed that answered her question. It would take a great deal more than the NHS to keep him from the Boxing Day football fixture.

Miles and the boys had deserted her. She could hear them outside in the corridor, laughing at something.

‘If you don’t like the ring,’ Max said, ‘we can choose another. Marry me and I’ll fill your every waking hour with happiness. I’ll dispose of all wildlife your cats bring in, keep you warm at night, cater to your every sexual need, let you have the TV remote.’

‘Well, if you put it like that—’

 The door banged open.

‘Come along, come along!’ the nurse chided, shooing Jill out of the room.

‘I’ll, um, see you tomorrow, Max.’