Tell Tale (19 page)

Fallon picked Savage up from the park and ride on the outskirts of Dartmouth at ten o’clock.

‘Alright, love?’ he said as she climbed into the Range Rover.

‘Yes,’ Savage nodded, feeling far from alright. Before leaving home she’d shouted at Jamie and Samantha and had an argument with Pete about working at the weekend. She hated lying to him again, but telling him the truth was impossible. ‘Let’s get this over with.’

‘Fighting talk. Just what I like to hear.’

Fallon steered the car out onto the main road and into Dartmouth. As they descended the steep hill into the town the Naval College rose on the left. The impressive building resembled some great stately home or royal palace. Pete, like all Royal Navy officers, had trained there, and Savage found herself averting her gaze as they passed by.

Down in Dartmouth proper Fallon drove along the quayside. In the air-conditioned interior of the big 4×4 Savage felt cut off from the tourist bustle outside. The pavements teemed with people, while on the river, boats of all sizes moved this way and that. A couple of months ago Savage had been here with Pete and the kids on their own little boat. They’d moored up in rain and high winds and wandered the near-deserted streets. The evening meal had consisted of fish and chips eaten whilst sheltering from the weather under the town’s bandstand. Bliss, Savage thought, as she looked out at the crowds in the sunlight.

As they queued for the lower ferry to make the crossing to Kingswear, Fallon looked across at her. ‘You bring it?’

‘Yes,’ Savage said. ‘It’s in my bag.’

‘Good. When we get there I’ll go and meet Owen on my own, I’ll say you’ve taken a walk up the lane. You wait until we’re inside and then you come, OK?’

‘Fine.’

‘After that, it’s your call. We hurt him, we slot him, whatever. Just remember not to touch anything in the house.’

The ferry journey across the Dart took just a few minutes and soon Fallon was accelerating the Range Rover up through the streets of Kingswear, the village on the opposite of the river from Dartmouth. They took a couple of right turns and then followed the coast road round and into some woodland. Fallon shoved the car into low gear and they climbed out of the woodland and ran between tall hedges for a mile or two. The lane felt like a tunnel to Savage, the world rushing headlong towards her, everything blurred and indistinct. A sharp left down a track, and then they were pulling up outside a pretty country cottage. Savage swallowed, but her mouth was dry.

‘Nice,’ Fallon said. ‘Chocolate box. And by the look of things the soft centre is inside.’

A little Fiat stood at the front of the property, the side of the car badged with an estate agent’s logo. Slabs of stone led up to the front door, which stood open. Fallon got out of the car, pushed through the wicket gate, and walked up the path. He rapped at the door and went in.

Savage pulled her bag onto her lap. She delved into its depths, feeling the hardness of the gun. She brought it out and stared down at the weapon. For a moment, she did nothing. After all this time, did she really still want this? Was vengeance going to bring her peace? She closed her eyes and saw Clarissa’s face, heard her voice, heard the little ‘ding-ding’ of a bicycle bell. She opened her eyes again, checked the gun, placed it in the waistband of her trousers, and got out of the car.

She stood at the front door, hearing voices within. She clenched her fists and then slipped in. The inside of the house was bare and smelt of paint. Savage’s footsteps echoed on the stained wooden floor as she walked along the hallway and turned left into the front room. Owen Fox stood admiring the view through the window, Fallon by his side.

‘Like I said, Mr Fox,’ Fallon said. ‘The wife.’

‘The sea view is quite—’ Owen turned, his mouth dropping open at the sight of Savage. ‘What the fuck?’

‘Hello, Owen,’ Savage said. ‘I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time.’

‘No.’ Owen moved away from the window and sidled across to the fireplace. He eyed the doorway.

‘No chance, son,’ Fallon said. ‘I might be twice your age but I’ve twice as much muscle too. Now, let’s all go upstairs where there’s a bit more privacy, OK?’

Owen’s face lost its youthful glow and he turned pale. He stumbled towards the door and Fallon let him past, giving him a shove down the hallway. Owen turned and trudged up the stairs, Fallon and Savage following. Fallon indicated the back room and gave Owen another shove. There was no furniture in the room, but Fallon pointed to the floor.

‘Sit down. Charlotte wants a word or two with you and I want you to listen. I’ll be downstairs – but one hint of any trouble and I’ll be back up to give you a fucking good spanking. Understand?’

Owen nodded and then went over to one corner and lowered himself to the floor. Fallon turned, left the room and clumped down the stairs.

Savage stood for a moment, unable to quite believe this moment had come. The person who’d killed Clarissa, her beautiful daughter, was sitting two steps away. She could do anything she wanted to him. Fallon had made that clear. He would, he’d said, take care of everything. ‘
Everything
, understand, Charlotte?’

Owen bowed his head and raised his hands to his face. Savage heard a snuffle and saw a bead of water slip from his palm. The lad was crying.

‘Why?’ Savage realised she had said the word so quietly Owen hadn’t heard. She repeated the question, louder. ‘Why?’

Owen was sobbing uncontrollably now, but he raised his head and tried to look at Savage. ‘It was an accident. I took my eyes off the road for a second and there she was.’

‘You were going too fast, you were driving like a lunatic. My daughter had no chance.’

‘You have to believe me, I didn’t mean for it to happen.’

‘Choices, Owen. Fucking choices. We all make them and each one has a set of consequences. The aftermath of what you did scarred me and my family and will continue to do so for ever. Every night I think of my daughter.
Every
night. Can you imagine what that’s like?’

‘Don’t you think it affects me too? I’ve got to live with what happened.’

‘What?’ Savage felt the anger rise within her. ‘You arrogant little shit. You think what you have to go through is in any way comparable?’

‘I’m not having this.’ Owen pushed himself up from the floor and stood facing Savage. ‘I’ve had enough.’

Savage stepped forward and shoved Owen with her left hand. He fell back against the wall and then raised his fists. Savage was aware her right hand was going to her trousers. The gun came out and she raised the weapon and pointed it at Owen.

‘Well, so have I,’ Savage said. She reached forward and grabbed the collar of Owen’s shirt with her left hand. Then she shoved the gun up against the side of his head. ‘Kneel.’

Owen’s legs seemed to turn to jelly, because he collapsed to the ground in an instant. He began to shake.

‘Please, I beg you. I’ve got a wife and children. Think of them.’

‘Like you thought of me? Of my other two children and my husband? I don’t think so, Owen.’

‘I was going to come forward. To admit to the accident.’

‘Yeah right, like I’d believe that. So what happened?’

‘I was going to make a statement, honestly. But Dad said I couldn’t, that I needed to realise what would happen if I did. He persuaded me not to. In fact, he said if I did I was on my own. You see, it wasn’t just the accident. Lauren was in the car with me and we’d been to a party. We’d been dealing drugs and Dad was scared it would all come out. He told me his career would be over. That he’d lose everything, that Mum wouldn’t be able to cope, that the stress would kill her.’

‘And you expect me to believe that?’

‘I didn’t want it covered up but Dad took over. I didn’t know what to do. He said—’ Owen started sobbing again, streams of tears running down his face. ‘P— please, I’ve changed. I … I don’t do drugs any more. I’ve got a job and I’m trying to do the best for Lauren, Sam and Milly.’

‘Milly?’

‘My daughter. Sh— she’s eighteen months old. She’s the most important—’ Owen lost it completely. He began to gulp and suck air in and out. ‘Please don’t kill me.’

‘Shit.’ Savage pushed Owen away and he fell over and curled into a foetal shape on the floor. She kept the gun pointed at his head, but was aware her hand was trembling. This wasn’t turning out the way she’d hoped. She looked down at Owen as he stared up at her through his fingers, cowering. She could see something in his eyes, the way his lip curled, a slight twitch of his fingers. Savage moved forward, grabbed the lad’s hair and held his head up. She thrust the gun in his face. ‘There’s something you’re not telling me.’

‘I—’ Owen blubbed, snot dribbling from his nose. ‘I—’

‘FUCKING TELL ME!’ Savage rammed the gun barrel in Owen’s mouth. ‘TELL ME THE TRUTH!’

‘Lauren!’ Owen’s eyes widened in terror. ‘Lauren was driving, not me! She was pregnant with Sam so I took the rap.’

‘You pathetic liar.’ Savage pushed the barrel farther into Owen’s mouth until he began to gag. Her finger touched the trigger. ‘You expect me to believe that?’

‘Charlotte. Stop.’ Fallon stood at the doorway. She hadn’t heard him come up the stairs. He nodded to the window and then at the gun in Savage’s hand. ‘We’ve got to move. There’s a second viewing. The couple are in the back garden.’

‘Fuck!’ Savage removed the gun from Owen’s mouth. Then she whipped the barrel across his face. Owen rolled sideways, clutching at his cheek, blood oozing between his fingers. She stared down at him as he began to cry again. ‘Doesn’t matter, I’m done. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough.’

Chubber’s on his way back to the wood. Spent a night in the cells at the custody centre. Banged up. Frightened. People in there shouting, crying, screaming. A bunch of nutters.

Nutters, Chubber?

Friday night. Place was full of drunks and foul-mouthed youngsters with no respect. Chubber could teach them some respect.

You didn’t, did you?

No. Kept calm. Waited until he was released. Charges pending. Further enquiries. Went back home Saturday to sleep. Back here this morning. Back to the wood.

You need to check, Chubber, don’t you?

Yes. Checker check check. Chubber needs to see if things are OK. As he left them. He forges on up the hill, past the crystal rock and to the feed shed with the girl inside. He looks around. Nobody’s been here. Not the police, not anybody. Chubber pauses to get his breath back. He looks at the padlocks securing the door. Then he bends to the peephole. In the shadows he can see the girl. She’s sleeping under a pile of feed sacks. Chubber blows a silent whistle. Thanks goodness. He straightens and turns away.

Hadn’t you better check her, Chubber? Properly?

Yes. Good idea. Chubber digs into his pocket for the set of keys. One, two, three. He fits each in turn and clicks the trio of locks open. He slides back the bolts and pushes open the door.

‘Wake up, girly,’ he says. ‘Chubber’s here, my dear.’

Chubber clumps in, aware of a swathe of light from above. One of the tin sheets has come loose. Chubber shakes his head. That’ll never do. Rain might get in. He’ll need to see to that.

See to the girl first, Chubber.

Chubber moves over to the pile of sacks the girl has pulled onto herself. She must be freezing, he thinks. Perhaps he could cuddle up to her. Snuggle close, skin to skin.

‘Girly, are you cold? Because Chubber could warm you up.’ Chubber begins to loosen the tie on his tracksuit bottoms. He smacks his lips together. This could be good, better than any sheep. ‘Come on, girly. Wakey wakey.’

The girl doesn’t stir. Chubber bites his lip. He’s never been very good at this. The lovey stuff. Seduction. He crouches next to the sacks and reaches out. It would be nice to slip his hand beneath the sacks, slip his hand between the girl’s—

Chubber moves his hand down and runs his fingers beneath the sacks, groping for the girl.

‘Where are you, my little beauty?’

Chubber?

Reaching, groping, feeling. Deeper under the sacks. Still reaching, still groping, still—

Chubber!

Chubber flings back the top sack and then the next. Dives forward and flattens the pile with his body. There’s nothing there. Nothing but a dozen sacks.

She’s gone!

‘No!’ Chubber screams out, writhing around on the floor in anger. ‘No!’

He stands and whirls. The shed is empty. The light is shining down from above. The girl has climbed out through a hole in the roof. He notices the plank. Somehow she’s used it to get out. Chubber runs to the door. Is something moving in the woodland? A girl running away?

No, Chubber. It’s only the wind whispering your name. Telling Antler Man what you’ve done.

‘No!’ Chubber yells again as he falls to his knees. ‘I didn’t, I didn’t, I didn’t!’

You didn’t look after her properly. That’s what you did.

Chubber buries his head in his hands. He can feel the ground opening up beneath him, the darkness growing, the wind beginning to howl in the trees.

Antler Man won’t be amused, Chubber.

No, he’ll be angry, Chubber thinks. He’ll be very, very angry.

Savage was back home by one o’clock, slipping the car into the garage and walking in the front door to find a pile of life-jackets and waterproofs on the floor in the hallway.

‘Going on the boat,’ Pete said. ‘We head across the Sound and drop anchor in Cawsand Bay. The kids can have a swim and then we can grab an early dinner at the pub. Assuming you’d like to join us of course?’

Savage stared at the life-jackets. She wanted to head upstairs and lie down, not have to deal with ropes and sails and moaning children. The explosive few minutes with Owen Fox at the cottage had shaken her to the core. She’d allowed raw emotion to take over and had nearly – so very nearly – come close to disaster. Now she felt flat, lost, tired. She looked at Pete, empty, not knowing what to say to the man she loved, how to even start to explain the situation.

‘Well?’ Pete smiled. ‘If not, then there’s this fit bird lives near the marina. I’m sure she fancies tugging my mainsheet for an hour or two. Only if I could leave the kids with you …’