White is the coldest colour: A dark psychological suspense thriller (32 page)

DS Rankin parked in the busy police car park, and watched as his boss dragged the doctor out of the rear seat and marched him across the tarmac towards the cells. He locked the car, followed the two men into the custody suite, and held open a heavy steel door as DI Gravel pushed the doctor into a urine soaked cell lit only by a naked forty watt bulb that bathed the room in a depressing yellow hue. The doctor lost his balance, stumbled, and hit the wall directly opposite the door with an audible thud, before slumping to the floor. The inspector followed his prisoner into the concrete enclosure, and knelt down next to him as he moaned quietly to himself. ‘Throw me the key, Clive.’

Rankin fumbled in one trouser pocket and then another, before eventually locating the small key amongst a collection of coins, and throwing it underarm to his boss, who caught it easily with one hand.

DI Gravel flipped the doctor from his side and onto his front, before unlocking the handcuffs and throwing them back across the cell to the DS, who was still standing at the cell door.

DI Gravel stared into the doctor’s eyes without blinking. ‘I’m going to leave you alone to think now, Doctor. This may give you some idea of what the future holds. I’d use the time wisely if I were you. Think carefully about what we’ve said to you. Help us, and things will well be easier for you. You can avoid answering our questions for as long as you want, but it won’t do you any favours. I’m in control now, Doctor. Anything you want to say for yourself?’

‘I am fully conversant with the rules of evidence, Inspector, and have already made it perfectly clear that I have absolutely no intention of saying anything further until I am formally interviewed. At that point my innocence should become clear, even to a man of your limited intellect. I will be making a formal complaint regarding my appalling treatment at your hands and that of your subordinate. You can be certain of that.’

‘You're sweating, Doctor. Are you starting to feel the pressure?’

‘For your information I have a slight fever. Two analgesics would be advisable, if you have them available?’

‘Have it your way, Galbraith. You’re not the only fucking pervert who’s been arrested this morning. And someone will talk. They always do. You are going to prison, Galbraith. It’s just a matter of how long for, and what happens when you get there. Think about that, Doctor. And think hard.’

The doctor struggled upright and shook his head disdainfully… Control? Who were the morons trying to kid? If they'd found the little bastard, he’d have heard about it long before now.

DI Gravel slammed the cell door shut behind him as he left. ‘Come on, Clive, I fancy a bacon roll with plenty of brown sauce. I’ll meet you in the canteen in about ten-minutes.’

DI Gravel dialled with one hand, whilst squeezing the bridge of his nose between the thumb and index finger of the other… Come on one of you, pick up the fucking phone.

‘Hello, the Galbraith residence.’

‘The Galbraith’s residence? Is that you, Pam?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘For fucks sake, Pam. I thought you’d got a new job as a butler for a minute there.’

‘Sorry, sir, what can I do for you?’

‘I’m after an update, Pam. Any joy?’

‘Social services took longer to get here than expected. They're with Mrs Galbraith and the children now, sir. It looks like their about to leave. Mrs Galbraith’s putting the girls coats on as we speak.’

‘Did she say anything to you? Anything useful?’

‘Give me a second, sir. They're just going through the front door.’ The WPC waved and smiled as Elizabeth looked back at her on stepping out of the house.

‘Okay, sir, they're gone.’

‘And?’

‘It’s not so much what she said, sir. It’s how she was. She's obviously terrified of the man.’

‘Galbraith?’

‘Yes, sir, I’ve seen it before: once confident women crushed by manipulative, dominant bullies. I don’t think she’s been out of the house unsupervised for years. I’ll be amazed if she tells us anything at all.’

‘You never know your luck, Pam. What about the girls?’

‘Not a word, sir, I hate to think what they've experienced in this house.’

‘How’s the search going?’

‘Give me a minute, sir, I’ll go and ask.’

‘Hello, sir, they've just finished in the study. They took everything out, even lifted the floorboards, but not a thing as yet. They’re moving onto the dining room next. It’s a large house, sir, it’s going to take a while.’

‘You're not wrong, Pam. Now you've finished your baby sitting duties you can give the others a hand. Ask Rob to confirm he collected something with Anthony Mailer’s scent from the father?’

‘Rob! The inspector want’s to know if you collected anything from Mr Mailer?’

‘Yeah, if the boy’s here, we'll find him.’

‘I heard all that thanks, Pam. Tell Rob I want him to let the dog loose and see if she comes up with anything. Every minute matters.’

‘Will do, sir.’

‘Straight away, Pam, I’ll be in the station canteen for the next twenty-minutes or so. Make sure you get hold of me immediately if there’s any news.’

Chapter 44

T
he agile young Spaniel sniffed every inch of the long corridor: bursting with energy and enthusiastic, tail up, super sensitive wet nose twitching, as she searched for the target scent amongst a myriad of other fascinating and potentially distracting smells.

The dog handler walked closely behind his charge issuing constant encouragement: ‘Come on, girl, find.’ He held up the dog’s favourite yellow tennis ball, reminding her of her prospective reward should she succeed in her allocated task. ‘Come on, girl, that’s it, find, find.’

The dog suddenly lost interest in the hall, and stood alert as if to attention, in the doorway to the large family kitchen.

‘What is it girl? Are you onto something?’ He held the ball high above his head in his left hand and smiled. ‘That’s it, girl, go on, find, find!’

The dog suddenly became more interested in the ball than the scent, and jumped repeatedly against her handler’s legs.

The constable cursed loudly… He’d distracted the animal just at the wrong time.

He put the ball in a trouser pocket, reached into his tunic and took Anthony’s red tee-shirt from a clear plastic evidence bag, before bending down and holding it about ten-inches from the floor, allowing the Spaniel to sniff it repeatedly.

‘That’s it, girl, find, find.’

The dog turned with a new enthusiasm for the game, and entered the kitchen on full alert. She quickly circumvented the room, sniffing every nook and cranny for any sign of the relevant scent. All of a sudden she lost any interest in the room’s peripheries, and focussed her entire attention on the tiled floor close to the centre of the kitchen where a single drop of Anthony’s saliva had fallen from his open mouth as Gary Davies carried him towards the cellar steps.

The dog knew instantly that she’d achieved her initial goal. She sat, raised her head proudly in the air and barked once, as her search training dictated.

The handler handed the eager spaniel her reward. ‘Good girl, good girl!’

He turned towards the internal door and shouted, ‘The dog’s picked up on something in the kitchen. Stay where you are for the moment, I need to see if she can follow the scent.’

He attached the dog’s lead to her black leather collar, patted the top of her head robustly, and walked slowly around the room, allowing the keen animal to take the lead. ‘That’s it, girl, find, find.’

The Spaniel sniffed at every cupboard; the cooker, the fridge, the pantry, the dresser, but nothing. She repeatedly tried to return the centre of the floor, the scene of her earlier triumph, but the handler pulled her away on each and every occasion.

One of the two female search officers appeared in the doorway, but didn't enter the room.‘What’s happening, Rob? Any joy?’

‘I’m sure the boy’s been here, but I don’t think he’s not here now. If you two have a good look in the cupboards and the like, I’ll take the dog out into the garden. The Mailer boy may well have been carried through the house and out through the conservatory.’

‘If you're right, he’s probably dead.’

‘You may well be right, Pam. All we can do is keep looking.’

Chapter 45

‘I
’ll have another one of your gourmet bacon roles please, love.’

‘One bacon role coming up. Another coffee?’

‘Yeah, why not live a little?’

‘I think you're wanted, Grav.’

‘Sorry to interrupt you, sir.’

‘What can I do for you, Constable?’

‘Pam’s been on the phone, sir, she want’s you to ring her back urgently.’

The inspector pushed his plate to one side and jumped to his feet. ‘Thank you, Constable. Nice to see you doing something useful for a change.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

DI Gravel turned to Rankin, who had recently joined him and was finishing off an unappetising cheese and tomato sandwich. ‘I think it’s about time we had another chat with the doctor, Clive. He’s got to be sweating a bit by now. Collect him form the cells and I’ll see you in interview room two as soon as I’ve had a word with Pam.’

‘Will do, boss.’

Come on, Pam. Pick the fucking phone up, girl. ‘Hello, Pam, it’s DI Gravel, about time. What have you got for me?’

‘It’s the dog, sir, she picked up a scent in the kitchen. She does this thing where he sits and barks when he finds the scent she’s looking for. Clever really! Rob say’s he’s never known the dog be wrong.’

‘Anywhere else?’

‘Sorry, sir?’

‘The scent, anywhere else…?’ He was clutching at straws.

‘No, sir, just the kitchen.’

‘Has Rob tried the garden?’

‘He’s out there now, sir, but nothing as yet.’

‘Any sign of recent digging or other ground work?’

‘Not really.’

‘What the hell’s that supposed to mean?’

‘He found a DIY tool under the earth in a flower bed, but he doesn't think it’s of any relevance.’

‘What sort of tool?’

‘Just a small thing with a plastic handle, Rob thinks it’s a glass cutter.’

‘Sounds like something and nothing.’

‘Yeah, that’s what we thought.’

‘But Rob’s certain that Anthony was at the house?’

‘Yes, sir, as sure as he can be.’

‘Go through the place methodically, Pam: every corner, every crevice. Tear the fucking place apart if you have to. If Anthony Mailer’s anywhere in that house I want him found.’

Chapter 46

D
r Galbraith stared at Gravel and Rankin across the small interview room table, meeting their eyes in turn, and waiting for one or the other to break the persuasive silence…… What the hell were they waiting for? Why the delay? Why no more questions?

Suddenly the deafening white noise in the doctor’s head was silenced, and his facial muscles noticeably relaxed… The fools still hadn't found the cellar. It was the only logical explanation.

He smiled with a newfound confidence. ‘Have you any further questions, Inspector, or have we finally reached the conclusion of this ridiculous charade?’

DI Gravel scowled. ‘Surely you aren't still insisting that you’re innocent, Doctor?’

Dr Galbraith shook his head slowly. ‘I find it incredible that you both consider that a man such as myself, a man who has dedicated the majority of his adult life to assisting troubled children and their families, could be guilty of such heinous criminal acts. I am entirely innocent of the crimes to which you refer. This entire process is an utter travesty. Why would I admit to something I haven't done?’

The inspector stared at him incredulously. ‘You've heard the weight of evidence against you, Galbraith. Four children have given detailed video statements outlining numerous sexual offences. A fifth victim, now an adult, has made a written statement. The investigation is ongoing, and I have no doubt that other victims will be identified. And other suspects will talk. It’s in your interests to cooperate. Face facts, Doctor. It’s the only card you have left to play.’

‘Now that I think about it, I can perhaps understand why you would think I am guilty. But, with due respect, you are looking at an extremely complex situation rather too simplistically.’

DI Gravel smiled humourlessly… The self-satisfied cunt. ‘I can’t wait to hear this.’

‘There are a number of hypothesis that could potentially explain these ludicrous allegations. What evidence have you got at the end of the day? Four young boys talking of alleged events which sound less than credible, at an unknown location or locations sometime in the unspecified past. A young man who claims to recall an assault some years ago. A young man with a history of psychiatric problems. Hardly the most reliable witnesses, wouldn't you agree?’

‘The evidence looks pretty solid to me, Galbraith.’

‘When will you people ever learn? I’ve seen it time and time again over the years: over zealous police officers unwisely jumping to the wrong conclusions. Innocent men being accused of unspeakable crimes. Have you people learnt nothing form events in Cleveland and the Orkneys? Well-meaning, but misguided pseudo professionals can implant false memories in vulnerable children's minds. Any knowledgeable expert in the field would tell you likewise. Leading questions can result in the acquisition of misinformation with the potential for miscarriages of justice. It is not unusual in this type of case for children to say exactly what the investigating social worker and police officer want them to say. They are simply recounting what they have gleaned as a result of ill-advised leading questions, rather than recalling real events. Your allegations are a manufactured fantasy and nothing more.’

‘All five witnesses have referred to you by name, Galbraith.’

‘As I’ve already stated more than once, I know of no white room, and I am entirely unfamiliar with the farm building you describe so unconvincingly. Have you even considered the possibility that someone with a grudge against me has stolen my identity?’

Just for a fleeting moment a shadow of doubt crossed DI Gravel’s mind. ‘Nice try, Galbraith, but you're not fooling anyone. All five witnesses have described you perfectly.’