Laurence Winters left hospital and had been swiftly charged with the attempted murder of Lorraine Peters. He had retreated into silence and refused to answer any questions on the historic crime, even though Graham was telling the whole story. There would be DNA tests to prove or disprove Graham’s account and Laurence’s involvement, but Kim believed him.
Havers had been charged with the attempted murder of Geoffrey Piggott, after three students confirmed they had seen him exit the bell tower just an hour before sending Geoffrey up there with the key. It appeared that the Spades network operated on a risk versus reward basis. Contrary to his expectation, the Spades had not come rushing to his defence, either drawing the line at attempted murder or unwilling to risk their own reputations for a sports coach. Kim was reminded of the Russian dolls. It was the elite, within the elite, within the elite, and Havers was nowhere near the dolls at the centre.
Thorpe genuinely hadn’t known that Havers had been keeping the Spades alive and had vowed to re-examine all suspicious accidents and ensure that any guilty parties were brought to justice. A lesser man would have run away from the place as quickly as possible, but Thorpe was determined to stand strong and rebuild the battered reputation of Heathcrest.
Once events had begun to sink in Saffie had refused to visit or speak to her father. Added to her own anger was the knowledge of his actions in the past, along with her mother’s death. It would be some time before her life looked anything resembling normal again. Until it did she had chosen to remain at Heathcrest. Principal Thorpe had assured Kim that they would take good care of her, and she believed him.
The funeral of Joanna Wade had not been the sombre affair she had expected. Her colourful friends and younger brother had ensured that the service was a celebration of her life, not her death. Particularly poignant had been readings from students of both her old school and Heathcrest about what Joanna had meant to them. After the service Thorpe had revealed to her that Joanna had moved to Heathcrest for the substantial pay increase and benefits following her mother’s move into a care home. Joanna’s pension and death-in-service benefit would cover the bills there for quite a few years to come.
And so, she had read all the statements, filed all the papers, replied to all the emails.
And then she had sat and talked to an empty desk. A desk that still held his personal possessions because no one had yet found the courage to remove them.
She had pictured him sitting back in his chair, his tie loosened, his button opened and sporting a lazy smile. She imagined him rolling his eyes at Bryant when his older colleague was trying to give him some good advice.
She could visualise him winking at Stacey when needling her about her addiction to the Warcraft computer game. And her secret smile that told Kim she enjoyed it.
She pictured him tapping away on his computer with a fierce single-minded hunger in his eyes when he knew he was on to a lead.
She could see him walking the length of the office in high-heeled shoes on the back of a bet from Bryant. Which he’d won.
Hundreds of memories had played through her head as she’d stared at the space that had been his.
One memory had got hold of her and would not let her go. There was a time that they’d stood in the car park outside the station. She had laid into him verbally for disobeying a direct instruction not to use the press for a public appeal.
She had made no effort to hide the disappointment she had felt in him, and he had made no attempt to hide his regret and hurt at her disappointment. She knew her approval had been important to him. She’d known it then, and she’d known it in his recent appraisal.
The phone rang, startling her even though she’d been expecting the call.
‘Car’s ready, Marm,’ Jack said, sombrely into her ear.
He couldn’t see her nod as she replaced the receiver.
She pushed herself to a standing position and reached for the elbow crutches issued by the hospital.
She hopped her way through the office and paused at the desk nearest the door.
She placed a single sheet of paper in the centre. The recommendation for promotion, complete with her signature at the bottom.
‘Yes, Kev,’ she whispered. ‘You were ready.’
One Hundred Ten
Kim threw her crutches out of the car as the police officer jumped out to help her.
She waved him away.
Bryant had offered to pick her up from the station, but she’d refused. She hadn’t wanted to be alone in the car with him. He would want to talk, and she did not.
She began the trek along the walkway she knew so well. Everyone she’d ever loved was here somewhere.
She stepped into the chapel and remained at the back. There was barely standing room left. The space was filled with family, friends and colleagues.
A constable she recognised stood and offered his seat. She shook her head and glanced around.
The minister was speaking of Dawson as though they’d been old friends, reliving anecdotes passed second-hand from family members. She tuned out. He hadn’t known Dawson at all.
He didn’t know the total contradiction that the man had been. How selfish he could be one minute and totally selfless the next. He had not known the sharp intelligence that had been evident to her. The instinct in him and his passion for sorting right from wrong.
He had not known Dawson’s empathy for the disadvantaged or the passion with which he’d attacked his work. He had not known the protective instinct when anyone he cared about had been placed at risk.
He had not known the man that she had known.
The congregation stood to sing a hymn, obscuring his coffin from her view. She didn’t want to picture him still and cold inside that box. It was bad enough that her last memory of him was his body broken and bloodied, smashed against the ground, his eyes staring up to the top of the bell tower. That picture would remain with her for ever.
She looked around the chapel as the mourners sang. Each person held a different part of the man in their hearts, all carried different memories from each stage of his life. His parents, school friends, colleagues.
Kim saw Dawson’s fiancée at the front, supported by her mum and dad. His child, Charlotte, would now grow up without him by her side. Oh, how she wished she could gather up all these memories and give them to her, so she would one day know the man he had been. How he had matured from the selfish, pig-headed man she’d first met to the one who wanted promotion to give his family a better life.
She spied Woody sitting beside Bryant and Stacey.
She saw Stacey’s back lift now and again with an uncontrollable sob.
She watched as Bryant’s arm snaked around her shoulders.
She knew that the rest of her team needed her there, beside them. To share, to mourn. But there was a familiarity, a welcome affinity to the starkness inside her. She felt it and she knew it and it comforted her.
For as long as she could remember her mind had been formed of boxes. Every one contained something that had the power to hurt her, to reach the depths of her soul and break her apart.
There was a box building in her head, and her heart. She could feel its construction and she had to make a choice.
Go forward and join her team and share in their grief, help them understand the loss of their friend, feel their pain and share with them her own. It was what they needed her to do.
She took one last look at the photo of Detective Sergeant Kevin Dawson that stood on the coffin, before she turned and walked away.
Epilogue
Geoffrey Piggott wiped at his forehead with a handkerchief. The handkerchief of the man that had saved his life.
He still couldn’t think of that night without the lump forming in his throat. At first, he hadn’t been able to believe his eyes when the police officer had found him at the top of the tower. He had already convinced himself he was going to die, pictured himself falling and his bones smashing against the ground.
But Detective Sergeant Dawson had made him a promise and kept it.