It all seemed to happen at once. The shouting, the momentary hesitation by Deans, the flash of dark chrome, the groan and Deans collapsing on top of her, his weight pinning her to the island.
And the knife. The knife being dropped only inches from her throat and piercing her neck as she moved.
CHAPTER 56
‘You’d better not have been there for any length of time listening to what that maniac was saying,’ she snapped at Addison.
‘Christ, that’s the thanks I get for saving your life? And stop moving, will you? How the fuck are they going to stem that bleeding if you keep wriggling about. And no, we only just got here. It’s a long bloody walk over that ice.’
‘Walk? You better not have bloody walked either.’
Addison gave her a weary shake of his head and puffed out his cheeks.
‘You know what, I’m beginning to wish I hadn’t bothered. How about we wake Deans up, give him his knife back and I apologise for hitting him over the head with the baton?’
Narey grinned at him, the movement causing her skin to contract and the wounds in her neck to shriek with pain.
‘Anyway,’ Addison continued, ‘it wasn’t really me who saved your life. It was Tony Winter.’
‘Tony?’
‘Hm,’ Addison watched her reaction. ‘Tony got me on the phone and told me that it was Deans who was behind it all. Otherwise we might have found Bradley’s body and taken that as being the end of it. Tony said that Deans would be heading for Inchmahome.’
‘How did he…?’
‘Well, that’s the funny thing. Tony… photographer Tony… was interviewing the parents of the dead girl, Claire Channing. Any idea how that happened?’
Narey gave an awkward shrug.
‘Course you don’t. Anyway, Tony saw a photograph of the girl in the parents’ house. Seems she was wearing this necklace that Tony had seen before. He checked his photographs and, sure enough, Deans’ daughter was wearing the exact same necklace. Seems our man here was sick enough to have kept a souvenir of his big day on the lake and given it to his own daughter. Psycho or what?’
‘Jesus.’
‘I know. Tony tried to call you but couldn’t get a signal because you were out of the range of civilisation. He got hold of me though and told me to get here as quickly as possible. Seems he was really worried about you.’
Narey refused to give Addison the reaction he seemed to be looking for.
‘I’m glad he was or I might not be here. Deans had us all fooled. He even faked that attack on himself at The Rock. I should have wondered why he was going for a drink there when it was so far from home. It was because he knew those steps were perfect for “falling” down.’
Addison grinned.
‘I know. Tony’s ahead of you there too. He must have picked up a few tips from me. He reckons Deans must have cut his head with a knife and then thrown himself down those stairs. What a fucking fruitcake! Tony said we’d probably find a knife thrown into the bushes next to the steps above the pub.’
‘Worth a look,’ she admitted.
‘It already has been. I got a call to say they’d found a knife covered in snow but with blood still on the blade. They’re analysing it now but it will odds-on belong to Deans.’
‘Tony,’ she laughed lightly, causing another pain to shoot through the incision in her neck. ‘Who’d have thought it?’
From behind them came the angry convulsing sound of Greg Deans wakening from the baton blow to his head. He was held by two uniformed cops and could do nothing except stare hatefully at Narey.
‘I think you’re entitled to this one,’ Addison told her. ‘Charge him.’
He held out a hand and helped Narey to her feet. She began to walk slowly towards Deans, preparing the charge list in her head, when she stopped and turned back to Addison.
‘What am I charging him with?’
‘What?’
‘How is Julia Corrieri?’
‘Let’s get off this bloody island first. We’ll need to get you properly examined. That wound on the back of your head is even worse than the one at your throat.’
Something in the way he spoke wasn’t right. Showing concern for her like that wasn’t Addison’s way of dealing with things.
‘Cut the bullshit, Addy. What aren’t you telling me?’
Addison swore under his breath and rubbed at his eyes before crouching down so that he was looking Narey in the face.
‘Julia didn’t make it. She died in the hospital.’
CHAPTER 57
Spring seemed the wrong time for a funeral somehow. The new life that pushed up through the earth of the vast cemetery in Whitby appeared to be mocking the ceremony that paraded in front of it. Snowdrops, daffodils and primroses triumphantly announced their rebirth with no thought to the feelings of mourners.
It was the second funeral Tony Winter had attended that week and, even for someone with his peculiar interest in death, it was at least one too many. At Daldowie Crematorium in Glasgow, Strathclyde Police had been out in force to grieve for one of their own. Julia Corrieri’s family were at the helm, clearly still distraught despite the three months that had elapsed. Winter sensed resentment in their mood and a grudging acceptance of the attending police.
Rachel had been devastated by Julia’s death and was wracked with guilt at her own part in it. If she hadn’t stirred things up, if she hadn’t gone after Deans, if she hadn’t been so desperate to find out who Lily/Barbie was: it was the mantra she festered on. If she hadn’t done her job and if Julia hadn’t done hers, Tony had reminded her. They were both doing what they were paid for and what they had chosen to do. It failed to make her feel any better and just gave her the excuse to be mad at him instead — which was what he wanted.
At Julia’s funeral, he’d wanted to go to Rachel, to hold and comfort her. Just to take her hand would have made him feel so much better even if it would only have had a fraction of that effect on her. Instead, he had to stand at the back and watch her hurt.
There were no such issues of perverted protocol in Whitby, however. Tony stood in warm sunshine not far from the pair of Gothic cemetery chapels that were dramatically connected by a pointed archway, its steeple rising to the heavens. Beside him were Rachel, Danny and Rachel’s dad — nothing to hide and nothing to explain. They had travelled down together from Glasgow to pay their respects to Claire Channing and her parents.
Winter had been introduced to Rachel’s dad and been welcomed warmly by him. Inevitably, Alan had forgotten Tony’s name a few times on the long drive to Whitby and seemed confused by his relationship with Rachel at others. He wasn’t the only one, Winter thought.
Rachel had sat her dad down in the nursing home and explained to him everything that had gone on. It had taken a while. The enormity of it had distressed him as much as it confused him.
Alan had broken down when she told him how his instincts had been right about Laurence Paton. For all the things that had slipped temporarily and permanently from his memory, her dad vividly recalled the gut feeling he’d had when he spoke to Laurence Paton. Okay, Paton hadn’t killed the girl but he was still guilty of a silence that could have spared her parents years of anguish and forlorn hope. Alan Narey’s own guilt was that he hadn’t been successfully able to pursue the lead he’d been so sure of.
He had rebuked Rachel for even investigating the case and apologised for her having to do so. He was annoyed at her and grateful, saddened and sickened at the consequences of the new investigation. He was pleased, once he finally grasped all that had happened, at the outcome but Rachel had sensed it hadn’t been enough to put his mind at ease.