Following the results of the search of Tom’s home, and a meeting with Dr Hugo Sands regarding the body, Riddick told Gardner he was off to the hospital.
She gave that her firm seal of approval.
Then, Riddick got in a taxi and went to Anders’ house instead, stopping at a Tesco en route for a half-litre bottle of vodka. An ageing taxi driver eyed him in the rear-view mirror as he swigged from it.
‘Been one of those days?’ The driver asked with a grin.
‘Has felt like one of those days for over two years now.’
‘Like Groundhog Day?’
‘Good film,’ Riddick said, taking another swig, trying to remember if, and how, Bill Murray got himself out of that dire situation.
The taxi driver tried to talk to him some more, but Riddick shrugged him off. The alcohol was doing a stand-up job in terms of dissipating his anxiety, but he was as far from a good mood as he could possibly get.
He left the dregs of the vodka in the taxi. ‘For you, buddy. My friend has a problem with my drinking.’
‘Are you okay, son?’ the taxi driver asked.
‘Do you know how many times I’ve been asked that in the last two years?’ Riddick asked with a smirk.
The driver looked confused, but then said, ‘Groundhog Day?’
‘Exactly,’ Riddick said.
He headed up Anders’ driveway and pounded on his door.
The large British-born Scandinavian opened the door, shaking his head over the sight of his former colleague. ‘You should be sleeping that off.’
‘The medicine has it covered,’ Riddick said.
‘Painkillers or alcohol?’
Riddick shrugged. ‘You got a minute?’
‘For you, I’ve always a minute, and more,’ Anders said, moving to one side.
Riddick grunted as he entered Anders’ home.
‘Shouldn’t you be in a good mood?’ Anders asked from behind him. ‘You’ve put the Viaduct Killer under lock and key.’
‘Don’t call him that,’ Riddick said. ‘He never killed on a bloody viaduct, and he was just a child for pity’s sake. A mixed-up kid, not a delusional serial killer.’
‘I see,’ Anders said, closing the front door. ‘You aren’t in a playful mood, then?’
Riddick ignored him and went to sit in Anders’ kitchen – he’d been here on many occasions.
‘I’d offer you a drink,’ his former boss said from the kitchen doorway, ‘it may help with your dour mood… but you know I keep nothing here.’
‘No amount of alcohol is going to cut through this mood,’ Riddick said, ‘but I’ll take a soft drink.’
Anders walked past Riddick, using his walking stick for support. ‘Only Diet Coke, I’m afraid. You’ve not even got a sugar rush to look forward to.’ He opened the fridge and reached in.
‘Already made up my mind to knock the drinking on the head anyway,’ Riddick said.
‘Bloody hell,’ Anders cried. ‘How hard did he hit you? If I’d known sense could have been knocked into you, I’d have saved myself a lot of time trying to talk you round!’
‘It’s time to reassess my life.’
‘God has been listening to my prayers!’ Anders said, putting the can of Diet Coke down in front of Riddick.
‘This is nothing to do with God, Anders. This is to do with something much closer to home,’ Riddick said, opening the can.
‘Well,’ Anders said, propping his cane up against the table and sitting down opposite him. ‘Church and God can wait. You’ll come round to its virtues. Anyway, back to the reassessment of your life. Which aspects in particular?’
‘I’m reassessing friendships.’ Riddick reached over for Anders’ cane with his right hand, and then twirled it on the floor.
Anders narrowed his eyes as he glanced between Riddick and the twirling cane.
‘Feels sturdy,’ Riddick said.
‘Yes… cost me an arm and a leg, but it’ll never break. Good wood, treated wood. So, friendships, you say? What do you mean?’
Riddick felt the corner of his lip twitch. ‘I’m reassessing who I can trust.’
Anders nodded. ‘I hear you, Padawan. I remember my days back in that place – there were a few untrustworthy souls back then too, I can tell you. Who’ve you got your beady eye on?’
Riddick spun the cane. He sucked in his bottom lip to stop it from shaking.
‘Are you all right, Paul?’
Riddick took a deep breath. ‘It seems Kelsey Winters had more of a history than we realised.’
‘Kelsey?’ Anders gave a brief shake of his head. ‘Why’re you dwelling on her? I get she was part of the case, but your days of obsessing over the girl need to be confined to the past—’
‘There are things about her that her parents didn’t know.’ Riddick raised an eyebrow. ‘Things about her she wouldn’t want her parents to know about.’
‘Well, a lot of fifteen-year-old girls have secrets.’
Riddick looked hard at Anders before finally speaking. ‘Is making pornography a common secret among fifteen-year-old girls?’
Anders blanched. He placed his large hands on the table. He shook his head vigorously so his bulbous cheeks shook. ‘No… I don’t believe it.’
Riddick sighed. ‘Shocking, eh?’ He twirled the cane.
‘No, I really don’t believe it. Here? In Knaresborough, it’s not—’
‘No, it’s true, all right,’ Riddick said. ‘Andy Langsdale told me…’
‘Told you?’ Anders rolled his eyes. ‘Told you what? Wasn’t that kid crazy?’
‘She was fourteen at the time, Anders. She met someone online. And she was groomed.’
Anders waved him away with a big hand. ‘Groomed? I knew the Winters family. No way they were letting her chat away to any chuffin’ strangers online.’
Riddick took a large mouthful of Diet Coke and watched Anders.
‘I don’t want you buying into the rantings of a desperate kid, Paul,’ Anders said.
Riddick placed the can down. ‘There’s more. Can I go on?’
‘If you must, but I’m worried, Paul, I’m—’
‘She was groomed by a nineteen-year-old man called Charlie Rigby.’
Anders took a deep breath, blanched again and looked down at the table with widened eyes.
‘Do you remember Charlie Rigby?’ Riddick asked.
‘Is the question rhetorical?’ Anders said, still looking down.
‘Just answer the quest—’
‘You know damn well I do!’ Anders said, looking up, his cheeks now starting to flush. ‘As do you Paul. What in Christ’s name are you getting at here?’
Riddick glared at his former boss. ‘You tell me. It seems your memory is letting you down.’
‘Nicknamed “Goodtime Charlie”, worked for Neil, died of a drug overdose – how’s my memory doing?’
‘Patchy.’
‘Where are you going with this? Have you forgotten who I am? I’m your friend, not some goddamned sleazeball on the other side of your interrogation table!’
‘I told you I was reassessing friendships.’
‘You’re absolutely losing your mind is what you’re doing!’
‘Charlie Rigby made and distributed pornography. Some of which included young girls. One of those girls was Kelsey Winters.’
Anders slumped back in his chair, shaking his head. ‘I’d have known. I knew everything that was going on in Knares—’
‘Because you were tight with Neil?’
Anders leaned forward and poked the table. ‘Okay. I see what this is about now. You’re still pissed off about the other night? However, don’t you see? This is a perfect example of why I kept Neil close – it was better to know what a bastard like that was up to, rather than stumble around in the dark, clueless – like most of the bloody idiots I ever worked with.’
‘So you knew about the pornography?’
‘Of course not… and I don’t believe it either.’
‘Well believe it. I’ve seen some of it.’ Riddick drained the can of Diet Coke. He banged it down on the table. ‘On Tom Winters’ computer.’
Anders’ eyes widened. He opened his mouth, but no words emerged.
Riddick continued. ‘It was just as Andy said. Charlie Rigby groomed her, and while he was abusing her, filmed it.’
Anders looked down, shaking his head. ‘Disgusting. How could he? How could anyone? I’m sickened.’
Riddick stood, and still holding the cane, went over to the fridge. He opened it and looked back at Anders. ‘May I have a Perrier?’
‘Yes, of course,’ Anders said.
Riddick pulled a bottle of Perrier out of the fridge and walked back to the table. He sat down, placed the Perrier in front of him, but didn’t unscrew it. He was still holding the cane.
‘How did Tom get hold of the pornography, I wonder?’ Anders asked, scrunching up his face, signalling his disgust.
‘Well, it’s readily available on the internet on certain sites,’ Riddick said, twirling the cane. ‘Sites that charge the consumer money. I guess a man obsessed with the circumstances behind his daughter’s suicide might one day find some information to send him down that path?’
‘Awful,’ Anders said. ‘Charlie was a despicable individual… What a thing for Tom to have seen. It must have been frustrating for Tom that Charlie was no longer around to confront.’
‘I doubt Charlie was the only one involved.’
Anders raised an eyebrow. ‘You suspect someone else?’
‘Well, someone killed Tom… and it couldn’t have been Charlie. He’s dead.’
‘Andy, the abandoned son, killed him! I thought the case was closed!’
‘We ruled Andy out of Tom’s murder.’
Anders guffawed. ‘On what grounds?’
‘On the grounds that he couldn’t have done it. He was at school, registered in his classroom.’
Anders stood. ‘Shit. You’ve been busy. I think I’ll grab a drink—’
‘Please sit down, Anders,’ Riddick said, pushing the bottle of Perrier over. ‘I haven’t touched it.’
Anders sat. His face was blotchy.
Riddick continued. ‘We followed the money from the pornography websites. Guess who makes money out of selling this pornography? Who is still making money?’
Anders shrugged. He avoided eye contact.
‘Neil.’
‘Okay.’ Anders nodded, but still didn’t meet Riddick’s eyes. ‘That bastard. Stands to reason… He lacks a moral compass… I really didn’t know.’
Riddick shrugged. ‘So, that leaves us with a suspect – a missing suspect, mind, as no one knows where the bastard is. The motive is clear as day. He didn’t want Tom Winters exposing the truth, so killed him.’
‘It makes sense. God, if I’d known, I’d never have condoned it. I’d have broken him in half. You need to find him and put the animal away.’
‘Except… I don’t think Neil killed Tom.’
‘What?’ Anders looked confused. ‘You just said the motive was clear as day! Who else would have a reason to—’
‘Let me show you something,’ Riddick said, opening the photographs on his phone. He swivelled it around to show Anders. ‘A newspaper cutting taken from Tom’s drawer. A picture of the great and the good.’
Anders gulped as he looked down at a much younger version of himself standing in a group of suited individuals, alongside a fresh-faced Neil.
‘A fair while ago that,’ Riddick said. ‘Long before I became your Padawan.’
Anders shrugged; the nerves on his face were starting to twitch. ‘I don’t get your point. We were involved in the opening of a youth centre together, so what? It was a bad time. Lots of kids causing problems on the streets. I wanted to be involved with helping change the direction of their lives.’
‘With Neil?’ Riddick said, slamming the palms of his hands down on the table.
‘I believed he wanted balance. To offset some of the misery he’d caused. He had money. I wanted him to put it to use.’
‘You’re a liar, Anders. A bloody liar.’
Anders wagged a finger at Riddick. ‘Now listen here, Paul. I won’t tolerate you talking to me like that in my own home—’
‘I’ve run the names and numbers, you pompous prick! In the three years that you “assisted” at the youth centre, do you know how many of those children were charged with misdemeanours? About twenty of them. Three years, twenty children groomed by Neil into crime.’
Anders stood again. ‘That’s quite enough, Paul. I want you out. Those children were living challenging lives anyway. I tried to steer them away from crime, rather than into it.’
‘Maybe that’s the appearance you gave, but you were just turning a blind eye to Neil, something you’ve continued to do for years since. How much money did you make from all this sodding misery?’
‘You’ve no evidence of this!’
‘It’ll be there though, won’t it? Because I’m right, aren’t I? And what’s more, Tom found out, didn’t he?’
‘Leave!’ Anders said, pointing at his door. ‘After everything I’ve ever done for you, you whining little shit. Lost in your own self-pity, while the world makes excuses for you. You should’ve been out of a job long—’
‘Tom invited you over, didn’t he?’ Riddick said.
‘You’re talking nonsense.’
‘Tom had discovered the pornography. Knowing about your connection with Neil through this photograph, he believed you would be the perfect person to expose him. Why would Tom suspect that Anders Smith, the famed figure of law and order, would actually be complicit in the crime?’
Anders shook his head.
‘Except, Tom had it all wrong, didn’t he?’ Riddick continued. ‘Because you are involved. You always have been. Did Tom grow suspicious when you tried to steer him off course? Is that what made you put down that drink he’d given you, and kill him? Was his suspicion just too much of a risk to take?’
Anders sneered. ‘Give your head a wobble, why don’t you? I’ve never heard such poppycock!’
‘Before I came here, I was with the pathologist, Hugo Sands. He’s completed his post-mortem. Somebody bludgeoned Tom to death. They found splinters of wood in his face.’
Riddick twirled the cane again. ‘What happened to your last cane?’
Anders eyes darted left and right. Riddick could see the panic enveloping him. ‘I told you, it broke, I—’
‘Where is it?’
‘Gone, I threw it away—’
‘It’s just that when I asked Sands if the injuries could have been caused by a wooden walking stick, he seemed to think that was entirely reasonable—’
‘How could you?’
Having Anders raise his voice at him after his great betrayal infuriated Riddick further. He stood. ‘No. How could you?’ He threw the new cane to the floor at Anders’ feet. ‘I thought of you like a goddamn father.’
‘For good reason. I’ve taken care of you since day one. You’re letting your emotions cloud your judgement… I had Neil on a short leash… It could have been much worse without me.’
Riddick shook his head. ‘No. Here’s the headline. You watched as Neil ruined lives. And you knew about Kelsey, didn’t you? You knew about the pornography, and the abuse. And you murdered Tom before any evidence saw the light of day.’
Anders backed away from the table. He looked left and right.
‘What’re you going to do, Anders, run? Where? You’re an old man now with a bust back. Please. I implore you. Keep some dignity.’
Anders continued to shake his head. ‘You’ve not got enough.’
‘And you believe we won’t find it? If I don’t find it, Emma Gardner will. She’s good, you know. Better than we ever were. Her moral compass only points one way. Not like yours. And mine… the one you damaged.’
‘Damaged!’ Anders snorted. ‘You did that all on your own.’
‘I listened to you, I looked up to you, tried to be like you, and now look… You’re a monster!’
Anders knelt down slowly, and picked up his cane, groaning as he did so. He held the cane by its end, so the handle was pointing outwards, towards Riddick.
Riddick raised an eyebrow. ‘Really, Anders. Have you not done enough damage to your soul already? Do you want to add the murder of someone you claim to love like a son?’
‘I did…’ The cane shook in his hand. ‘I do… Paul. Please understand… I’ve had no choice. For years. No choice!’
‘Save it, Anders,’ Riddick said, taking a step towards him so the handle on the cane was pressed against his chest. ‘Save it for your confession.’
‘I can’t go to jail… He made me do these things… He had enough on me to bury me… I couldn’t get out even when I wanted to.’
‘That makes it even worse. Tom Winters, Kelsey Winters, Bradley Thompson and Dan Lotus are all dead. But that’s okay because you protected yourself. You’re a selfish old man, Anders.’
Anders lifted the cane above his head. His arm tensed.
Riddick tapped the centre of his head. ‘Go on. Life has dealt me enough blows already, and I’m not just talking about the lumps on my head. What’s one more? You’re done anyway, Anders, whether I die in a pool of blood in your kitchen or not. I’ve already emailed everything I’ve discovered to Emma, and if you don’t confess, then at least my death is one thing they’ll be able to easily convict you of.’
Anders let the cane fall to his side. There were tears in his eyes. ‘I’m sorry, Paul… I’m so sorry, but I don’t want to go to jail. This isn’t who I am. This isn’t who I wanted to be. It started, and then it just didn’t stop.’
‘Well, there is one good thing you could do before all this is over. Call it penance.’
Tears ran down Anders’ face. He dropped his cane and sat in his chair. He stared at the table for a while, possibly considering how best to end his life as a free man. Eventually, his bloodshot eyes met Riddick’s.
‘What do you want me to do, Paul?’
* * *
Anders kept an old pair of handcuffs in his house. Riddick used them to cuff the ex-DCI in the back of his own Land Rover, and then, for good measure, ensured the child locks were on.
A few times on the journey, Anders tried to engage Riddick; he shut him down on every occasion. ‘We’re done. Just the directions now, Anders.’
Fifteen minutes into the journey, Riddick asked, ‘Thirsk?’
‘Yes…’
Eventually, they were heading through country roads, following signs to Thirkleby Hall.
‘The caravan park?’ Riddick asked.
‘No. Carry on past, and past the holiday cottages too.’
‘Into the middle of bloody nowhere?’
‘Now… take a right here.’
The road they took wasn’t fit for purpose. He heard Anders bouncing against the door in the backseat. With his hands cuffed, he had no way to steady himself.
Several bumps and groans later, the road levelled out. Thick trees rose up on their right side, blocking the already descending sun. Riddick hit his fog lights for a clearer view. There was enough roadkill dotted about the place to make him cautious, and he slowed slightly.
‘Up here, on your left, follow the driveway, to the cottage.’
Riddick took the turn. He was relieved the driveway was in better nick than the road he’d just come on – he’d started to succumb to travel sickness.
No one had deemed it necessary to trim the hedges that lined the drive for a good while – years probably. They clawed at his car. ‘Is this cottage all alone out here?’
‘Yes… it’s a dump.’
‘Yeah, I’m getting that. Whose is it?’
‘My father left it to me. It’s not worth much, but I’d an ambition to do it up one day. During retirement. Guess that’s never going to happen now!’
Riddick looked at him in the rear-view mirror. ‘At least you’re alive. You want me to list all those deaths you’re connected to?’
Anders sighed.
Riddick hit the brakes outside the dishevelled cottage. He felt Anders head bounce off the back of his head rest.
There were no other cars in his driveway. He looked up at the cottage. Rather than sport it as a showpiece, the two-storey structure had become the victim of its ivy. The roof looked as if it was in dire need of repair. ‘You should give it to charity.’
‘What’re you going to do?’
Riddick killed the engine and the lights, then got out of the car. He opened Anders’ door and unfastened his seatbelt. ‘Get out.’
Anders complied.
Riddick pointed at his open car door. ‘Now, the driver’s seat.’
‘Why?’
‘Now.’
Anders sat in the driver’s seat. Riddick reached into his pocket for the key and unfastened one of Anders’ handcuffs and then reconnected it to the steering wheel.
Riddick pocketed the keys to the Land Rover.
Anders stared up at him the whole time.
‘What?’ Riddick asked, irritated.
‘Don’t screw your life up, too…’
‘As if you care?’
‘I care, Paul, believe me, I—’
Riddick cut him off by closing the front door.
Riddick surveyed the dishevelled cottage. The curtains were drawn on the bottom floor, but not the top.
Are you watching?
A simple phone call could defuse this situation of danger, but Riddick felt the pull, the desire, to move forward himself. There was too much wrong, desperately wrong, with what had unfolded because of the person in there – and the bastard didn’t get to do this the easy way. If anyone deserved to fear for their life, to beg for forgiveness, it was the occupant of Anders’ decrepit cottage.
Riddick moved quickly down the cracked, weed-covered path and banged on an old, wooden door which almost came off its hinges.
‘It’s over,’ Riddick shouted.
No reply. The door didn’t open.
He knocked again. ‘Last chance to do it with dignity.’
Again, no reply. Except, you have no dignity, do you?
He took a step back and prepared to run at it. The adrenaline made him shake, but it felt good. He wanted to do it this way—
The door opened.
The smug bastard stood there in shorts and T-shirt. He had a beer in one hand, a smirk twitching the corners of his mouth.
‘It would be you,’ Neil said, and nodded over at Anders’ Land Rover. ‘Bent old bastard finally broke under the weight of his humanity, did he?’
Riddick, pumped with adrenaline, felt like a coiled spring.
‘Look at the state of you – especially your head. Like I said before, you always were a psycho—’
Riddick launched himself forward and drove his forehead into Neil’s face.
The sharp pain in Riddick’s head was far from pleasurable, but the cracking sound was satisfying.
The DI drove a fist into Neil’s stomach and listened to the air come out of him in a whoosh. Enjoying his dominance, Riddick went in for another blow, but Neil evaded him this time, and darted in with the bottle in his hand.
Riddick stumbled away, clutching his ear. He steadied himself against the wall and looked at his bloody palm, and then glanced up at Neil, who was leaning against the wall by the stairs with his nose pissing blood.
In his left hand was the bottle he’d just struck Riddick with. It hadn’t broken, but he pointed it at Riddick. ‘Stay back, psycho.’
Riddick stood up straight. He cracked his neck which had stiffened under the surge of adrenaline. ‘Drop the bottle.’
‘Why would I do that? I’m going to kill you with it.’
‘Be my guest.’ Riddick winced. ‘It’ll get you off the street for the rest of your days.’
‘You willing to die just to put me to the sword?’ Neil smirked.
Riddick wondered if he was.
Neil had worked his way towards the bottom of the stairs. Without warning, he turned and ran up the winding staircase, still holding the bottle.
Riddick chased and, at the top of the steps, he saw a door slamming shut ahead of him. He threw himself at the door, pressed down the handle and swung inwards with it.
He was in a sparsely furnished bedroom. The bedsheets were dishevelled and there was dirty clothing on the floor.
Ahead, Neil had lifted open the window, and already had a foot outside.
Riddick charged forward, slipped his hands under his armpits and yanked him back. ‘No bloody way.’ He fell backwards, and the weight of Neil coming down on top of him knocked the wind from his body. Neil rolled off and crawled away.
Riddick’s head fell to one side, and he saw Neil grab the bottle he’d hit him with before, and start to rise to his feet, his back to him.
Riddick sat up and worked his way to his feet. Neil turned and swung the bottle again. The DI heard the rush of the bottle, but it missed him this time, allowing him to complete his rise.
Neil drew the bottle back again, but Riddick wasn’t allowing him another chance. He threw himself forward, rugby tackling him onto the bed.
Then, he lifted himself clear and drove his fist into Neil’s face. Once, twice, a third time, and then a fourth for good measure.
Riddick backed away, gulping air, as Neil moaned on the bed.
‘You’re a parasite,’ Riddick said, clutching his ear. ‘Bradley… Dan… all those children in your community centre years ago. How many young lives have you ruined?’
‘Piss off,’ Neil moaned.
‘You targeted a pregnant girl. Are there no boundaries?’
‘She was a slut, and she gave me up to—’
Riddick dragged Neil to his feet and pulled the dazed man over to the open window.
He could feel his heart thrashing in his chest, and he felt at ease with what he was about to do. He looked at Neil’s bloody face. He was still laughing, despite one of his eyes being half-closed, and his nose bent out of proportion.
‘What’re you going to do, policeman? Really? What’re you going to do?’
What he really wanted to do would cost him his career. But when you considered this man’s lies and atrocities, was it a small price to pay? The world was better off without Neil Taylor. And if Riddick was the man to take him out of it, did that in some way even the scales after he’d failed his wife and two children?
‘I’m going to do what’s right,’ Riddick said, spinning Neil and forcing his head out of the open window.