Anna exhaled one long, tremulous sigh. Something dense and brittle that had been wrapped around her throat cracked. She knew her mouth was trembling, felt the tears come and did nothing to stop them. She fell to her knees in the mud, arms loose in front of her, letting the adrenaline leech away. She reached out and touched Hawley, smiling in approval and gratitude. He returned it briefly before he turned back to his patient, stroking her hair, talking to her. Blair’s face was turned towards Anna. Frightened, confused, her flesh pale, her eyes blinking and staring back. But staring back alive.
It was ten seconds before Anna could get back to her feet.
She walked over to where Starkey was lying, face down in the mud. She wasn’t thinking about Shaw anymore. She was thinking of Shipwright. What he would have done. She leaned over and said, ‘Kevin Starkey, I am arresting you for the abduction and attempted murder of Blair Smeaton. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Starkey said only one word. With his face turned, it emerged distorted and alien, more like a gruff bark. But Anna heard it well enough.
‘Bitch.’
‘Too bloody right,’ she said in reply.
* * *
Within twenty minutes, the dell surrounding St Wystone’s was teeming with police. Because of the terrain, they airlifted Blair out and, having seen Hawley’s wounds, Anna insisted he go too. In truth, they’d had no choice because Blair wouldn’t let Hawley’s hand go no matter how much the paramedics asked her to.
As the casualties took off in the air ambulance and before she spoke to the DI from Gwent Police who was coordinating their response, Anna knew she needed to make one call. She took out her phone, found the number on speed dial and walked back up the slope to the ruins, where she stood looking down at the foetid water that Starkey had tried to use with such murderous intent and pressed the call button.
‘Danaher,’ said the answering voice.
‘Julie, it’s Anna Gwynne. We’ve found her and she’s alive.’
Two long seconds of inhaled breath led to the noises of a chair scraping quickly across a hard floor, the muffled sound of a hand being placed roughly over a receiver and a disembodied series of incoherent shouts.
‘Ma’am, I’ve put you on speaker,’ Danaher again, urgency and bewilderment lifting her voice. ‘Could you repeat what you said?’
‘I’m in a forest in Wales watching an air ambulance on its way to hospital. In it is Blair Smeaton and she is very much alive.’
Anna would later swear she heard the roar of triumph erupting from Edinburgh even without a phone.
Fifty-One
They took Blair to the children’s hospital in Bristol and Hawley to the infirmary. He needed transfusions and sutures, and they kept him in for five days for fear of infection from the stagnant pond water. Blair went back to Edinburgh, to Kirsty, her mother and Bernard after a week.
The press had a field day. Photographs of Blair with her mother and sister made the front pages for weeks, Mrs Smeaton either beaming or in tears in equal measure. The image showed a fridge stocked with lollipops so that Blair and Kirsty never had to walk to the shop for one again.
A search of Starkey’s workshop threw up a thumb drive whose contents were never revealed in any detail to the relatives. It was clear he’d used St Wystone’s as his killing field. Some of the videos seemed to concentrate on the terror he tried to induce in his victims before and during. Harrowing images linking him to all the abductions and murders of the missing children Hawley tied together with his theory. There were photographs of all his victims, including those he’d used as adverts on the Littlefeet, Pinocchio and UWAntme sites. The stored passwords led to his own Dark Web PPV page. But even Varga did not get access to that. They had specialists trained for that sort of thing. It was not a job anyone did for very long.
It would take weeks if not months to sift through the bone repository. But already they’d found some that were younger, fresher, whiter than the others. Identifications would follow. Lily Callaghan and Jade Hemmings and Katelyn Prosser, names Anna was by now terribly familiar with, were only three amongst many.
They also found a cryptocurrency hard drive, a wallet which Starkey refused to provide the password for. Despite every effort on the part of the Hi-Tech unit, it remained unopenable. Varga explained to Anna that it was designed to be impenetrable. She also surmised that due to what they found on his laptop, and how many years he’d been using the Dark Web, it would probably be brimming with bitcoins.
In his role as a maintenance engineer for Rowsys, Starkey accessed a huge range of areas not usually available to the public. Hard-pressed NHS clinics where notes would often be left in preparation, or in piles awaiting pick-up, and all the victims had been seen in hospital in the six months leading up to their abductions at a time when Starkey was present. He’d kept a low profile. He must have fitted in. A ghost. Or perhaps more a spectre that watched and waited, read through files and made notes of his own, deciding which of his victims might be the most vulnerable, the most accessible.
Choosing which of his flowers to pick.
* * *
A week after Anna and Hawley confronted Starkey, on a dull afternoon with clouds building in the west, Anna met with Rainsford. The meeting had a very different feel to it from the last time they’d met for a Friday afternoon conflab. Last time, they’d talked about Woakes, his gung-ho approach and the risk he posed in future investigations. From the look on Rainsford’s face, he was sharing that memory with her now. Holder and Khosa had once again acquitted themselves brilliantly, but Woakes’ frantic search of Pux Cottage had been the final straw in terms of his probation.
‘I’m sorry about Dave,’ Rainsford said.
‘You weren’t to know, sir.’
‘No, but I still should have.’
Anna nodded. ‘The CSC at Pux Cottage went apeshit when she saw what he’d done.’ She’d heard that had the crime scene coordinator been armed, Woakes would not have made it back to HQ. ‘But I’ve heard he’s avoided disciplinary procedures.’
Rainsford’s mouth twisted into a grimace. ‘He has. It’s all HR bullshit. But the good news is he’s dropped the bullying accusation.’
‘Sir, please don’t tell me it’s a trade-off. Dave is a liability. The bullying stuff was complete crap—’
Rainsford’s expression told Anna she didn’t need to convince him, and she shut up. No need to vent here. She’d done that enough already.
‘I know that’s what you think has happened, but I don’t buy it. I think he’s had time to think things through. I suspect his ego won’t let him admit how much grief you gave him.’
‘Because I’m a woman?’
‘Probably. Dave Woakes thinks he can do most things better than everyone else. He has delegation issues. We decided, by mutual consent, that his probationary period would end here.’
‘Did you suggest a change of career?’ Anna asked. ‘Any vacancies in the reptile house at the zoo?’
Rainsford smiled. ‘As you know, Inspector, we are committed to working with our officers and giving them every opportunity to improve.’ The mock officiousness in Rainsford’s voice almost made her smile.
‘That makes me feel so much better,’ Anna lied.
‘He’s gone back to East Mids. I’ve suggested a psychological assessment and retraining. Do I think it’s likely? No. Dave is one of those people who will never quite fit in. He’s a behavioural analyst’s dream.’
‘So long as they dream somewhere else.’
‘Amen to that, Anna.’
‘What about Starkey, sir?’
Rainsford shook his head.
‘Is he talking?’
‘Not much. His lawyers have him gagged while the psychiatrists do their assessments.’
Anna didn’t envy them that task.
‘The ACC wants to shake your hand again, Anna.’
‘Do I have to?’
‘You know you do.’
‘But it’s cold and clammy.’
‘You make him sound like one of the undead.’
Anna shrugged and raised one eyebrow. ‘You know I’d much rather get back to work.’
‘We still need to find someone instead of Woakes. The squad needs a bit of beef.’
‘We’ll manage—’
‘Yes, I’ve seen how you manage. You’ll manage better with help. Don’t worry, I’ll let you vet him or her next time. I promise.’
Fifty-Two