10.40am Monday 24th December
‘Morning, everyone.’ Barrett stood in front of his team. ‘Yesterday evening, Joe spoke to Mr and Mrs Hucknell, the parents of a boy called Jack who committed suicide in 1998. The boy was a member of the scout group that Dennis Wade led. The family have given us this photograph.’ Barrett pointed to a blown-up version of the picture on a large white screen. ‘You can see here that both Wendy Matlock, then Connor, and Eddie Kilpatrick appear in this photograph. We were working on the assumption that the killings were linked somehow to the golf club but now we want our focus to turn to the scout group.
‘It’s been confirmed that Dennis Wade and Eddie Kilpatrick stopped communicating sometime soon after the boy’s suicide. Jack’s parents both have alibis for each murder, which check out, but we are keen to speak to Matthew Hucknell, Jack’s brother. He’s been in and out of psychiatric units for the last twenty years and is more or less estranged from his family, who he blames for his brother’s death. We have his address and officers have visited the premises but there is no sign of Matthew. Our priority now is to find Matthew Hucknell. We will be working closely with Northamptonshire police who have issued a search for the suspect. I want you all to dig into Matthew’s life. Find out what you can and report to me. Clear?’
Mumblings of ‘yes, sir’ travelled around the room as the team dispersed and returned to their desks.
Palmer, who had a strange expression on his face, slowly made his way up to the white board.
‘What is it, Joe?’ Barrett asked examining his colleague’s odd gaze.
‘I know that face.’ He pointed to a brown-haired lad who stood between two other scouts. ‘It’s him. I wasn’t paying attention to the other boys’ faces but now it’s been enlarged I know it’s him. He’s been right under our noses the entire time.’
‘Get your coat. We’re going to pay the Hucknells another visit. We need to know exactly what we’re dealing with.’
Tilly met Steven at twelve thirty at the bar of The Fort St George pub as they had agreed. He looked handsome in his jeans and green jumper, with his hair pushed back off his forehead. When she walked in out of the cold, he was already waiting for her and had ordered her a drink.
‘Thank you.’ She accepted the gin and tonic and clinked glasses with his pint of ale.
‘Let’s grab a seat and order,’ Steven said looking around the heaving pub. ‘I’m starving.’
‘It’s very busy,’ Tilly commented, thinking they’d be lucky if they found an available table.
‘Two for lunch.’ Steven lent over the bar and smiled at the waitress.
‘You’ll be lucky.’ The buxom woman laughed. ‘We’ve been fully booked for weeks. You do know it’s Christmas Eve?’ she said, her eyes smiling.
‘Yes, I’m aware of that.’ Steven brandished a gleaming grin. ‘Looks like we’ll just have to get drunk,’ he said turning to Tilly.
‘You are naughty.’ She sipped her drink and realised she’d not been in a room with so many people since before the murders began. A creeping sense of dread started to return. ‘But seriously, I’m hungry. Shall we try somewhere else when we’ve finished these?’ She held up her glass.
‘Can do,’ Steven said wiping the froth from his beer off his top lip. ‘Where do you fancy?’
For a moment, Tilly thought he’d said who do you fancy, and she felt herself blushing.
‘I don’t mind. Anywhere that has a table and food.’ She tripped over the words, her nerves starting to bother her again.
‘What about my place?’
She looked at him with doubt.
‘I can cook.’ He laughed. ‘I’ve not made it this far without being able to rustle up a tasty plate or two.’
‘Okay then,’ she agreed feeling like their meeting had just taken a more intimate turn.
‘Great. We can stop by the shop and pick something up on the way there.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘Trafalgar Road. It’s just the other side of the river. A couple minutes’ walk. Not far. What do you want to eat?’
‘I’m not fussy. I’ll eat anything.’ She paused to think for a moment. ‘Just maybe not Chinese. My flatmate is Chinese and it’s all she cooks. I love it, but I’ve had enough Chinese food over the last few days to last me a lifetime.’
‘Lucky for you I’m more of a steak and chips kinda guy.’
‘Suits me.’ Tilly smiled, playing with the cuff on her jumper and noticing a small hole, which she couldn’t help fiddling with.
‘How you doing anyway? You seemed a bit freaked out last time I saw you.’
‘You noticed.’ Her voice was mousy.
‘I think we all did.’ He scratched the back of his neck, not wanting to make her feel bad but deciding it was best to be honest. ‘How come you were so upset about Dennis’s glasses?’
‘I don’t know. I guess, seeing him like that, in the shop, when I found him, it just wasn’t right. He didn’t look like Dennis. In my head, if I could fix how he looked then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I know that sounds nuts.’ She looked at the floor.
‘Not really. I understand wanting to fix something. It’s normal. Don’t worry about it.’
Steven rubbed her upper arm with his hand gently. He had a way of making her feel relaxed and she liked it.
‘Thanks. I really felt so silly.’ She stumbled over the words apologetically.
‘It can’t have been nice for you finding him. I’m sorry.’ He finished his beer and banged the glass down on the bar to emphasis it. ‘Let’s get out of here, shall we?’ He offered her his arm and she linked hers through it.
‘Let’s go.’ Tilly smiled unhooking her bag off the back of the bar stool before being led out of the pub and onto the wintery landscape of Midsummer Common just as small flakes began to drift down from the thick white sky.
‘It’s so pretty,’ she said holding out a hand to catch a snowflake, which melted as soon as it made contact with her skin.
‘Pretty but cold,’ Steven said zipping his coat up. ‘Not like Christmas in Sydney that’s for sure.’
‘Do you miss it?’ Tilly asked as they walked side by side with their arms still linked.
‘Sometimes.’ He thought about it. ‘Actually, a lot of the time. I’ll be heading back there when all this is over.’
‘When all what is over?’ Tilly felt her heart sink. She’d miss him if he left.
‘Christmas and stuff.’ He walked with his gaze fixed on the path in front. ‘Now that my mum has gone, there’s not much left for me.’
‘Why did you come back?’ Tilly wondered if she was prying too much. ‘If you don’t mind me asking.’
‘I had to deal with her death. The paperwork, the house, her funeral. It was only ever the two of us.’
‘What about your dad?’
‘Never knew him. Mum was young when she had me. He was older, married apparently. He wanted nothing to do with me.’
‘That must have been tough.’ Tilly moved closer to him as they carried on walking.
‘Not really. You don’t miss what you’ve never had.’
Fifteen minutes later, and after a quick stop-off at the local shop, they arrived at Steven’s house just as the snow was falling thicker and faster.
Shaking her hair free from flakes Tilly felt an instant wave of heat as Steven opened the door to his home.
‘That’s better.’ He pulled the door closed with a thud, put the bag of food down on the floor, unzipped his coat and slipped out of it before helping Tilly remove hers.
‘Looks like we are going to have a white Christmas.’ Tilly looked around the small living room. ‘I think it’s the first one in my lifetime.’
‘How come you’re still in Cambridge?’ Steven asked, picking up the bag and making his way through to the kitchen.
‘I can’t explain it, but I just know if I leave now, I’ll never come back.’ She looked at a photo that stood on the sideboard. It was a picture of Steven and an older woman who she presumed was his mother.
‘Nothing wrong with leaving the past where it belongs, if that’s what you need to do.’ He removed the packet of steak from the bag and threw it onto the counter.
‘Don’t you have plans tomorrow?’ Tilly asked joining him in the kitchen.
‘I think I’ll start packing up mum’s things.’ He took a knife from the block and ran it through the plastic packaging.
‘What will you do with this place?’
‘Put it on the market. An agent can deal with the sale. I don’t need to be here. I’d rather be on a beach in the sunshine.’ He smiled at her before removing a heavy griddle pan from a cupboard. ‘Why are you so interested?’
‘Just curious, that’s all,’ Tilly said taking a seat at the small bistro table that was near the back door.
‘Here.’ He handed her a bottle of Rioja. ‘Get that down you.’
‘I’ll be drunk as a skunk!’ She laughed.
‘I don’t mean the whole bottle.’ Steven handed over two glasses and a bottle opener. ‘Pour us both a glass.’
Tilly did as instructed and handed one to her host.
‘Oven chips okay?’ he asked while removing a bag from the freezer.
‘Absolutely.’ Tilly found she had a proper appetite for the first time in weeks and she looked forward to enjoying the fruity red wine with the red meat. ‘Thanks for offering to do this. It’s really nice of you.’
‘Not a problem.’ Steven had his back to her as he poured some frozen chips onto a baking tray.
‘Where’s the loo?’ The gin and tonic had gone right through her.
‘Just through there,’ he said pointing to a wooden sliding door on the left-hand side of the room. ‘It’s tiny, I warn you. This place must have been built when we were still a nation of midgets.’
Tilly slid the door back revealing what was essentially a cupboard with a toilet and miniature basin inside. She had to sit down on the bowl before she was able to close the door again. On her left were the tiny basin and a small mirror and on her right were two coat hooks, one of which was occupied. Sitting on the loo she looked up at the coat hanging there. It was a dark grey duffle coat with a hood. For a moment, while she looked at it, she wasn’t sure what she was seeing. It looked like any man’s coat but when she realised it was familiar the horror sank in. Tilly had seen the news. She’d seen the E-fit of the suspect and the picture of the coat the suspect was wearing. She knew then that she was looking at that exact coat.
Suddenly unable to pee, Tilly froze and claustrophobia set in. She was trapped with no way out except to go back through the kitchen. For a few moments she remained there, trying to prevent a panic attack, trying to work out how she could get away and trying to process how she’d ended up there.
Eventually, after three more minutes, she stood up, buttoned up her jeans and with a shaking hand pushed the sliding door back.
‘Everything okay?’ Steven asked over his shoulder holding a large kitchen knife in his right hand.
‘I… erm… I…’ She could feel the panic rising in her throat. ‘I don’t feel very well.’ Tilly walked around the edge of the room putting as much distance between herself and him as possible. Steven was blocking her escape route.
‘What’s the matter?’ He turned slowly, still grasping the knife. ‘You look very pale.’ He recognised the fear in her eyes. He’d seen that same look on the face of Dennis, Wendy and Eddie just before he’d killed them.
Unable to speak Tilly looked over at the loo and, in that moment, Steven knew she’d recognised the coat. He couldn’t believe he’d been so careless.
‘Sit down, Tilly.’ He sighed pointing at one of the bistro chairs with the sharp end of the knife. ‘You and I need to have a little talk.’
‘I don’t feel well.’ She stuttered, ‘I-I-I think I need to g-go home.’
‘We’ve opened the wine now. At least finish your glass.’ He took a step towards her. ‘It would be bad manners to leave now.’
Never taking her eyes off the blade, which glinted in the daylight that poured through the glass in the back door, she did as she was told. With a quivering hand she picked up the wine glass and took a sip. The red, which had tasted sweet like jam, now tasted bitter.
‘You’re shaking.’ Steven stood over Tilly still brandishing the knife. ‘It’s only a coat.’ His eyes danced.
‘Why?’ Her throat was dry.
‘Because I had to and because they deserved it.’ He smiled and shrugged as if he were a schoolboy explaining away a cheap prank.
‘Dennis had a family. He was a nice man and–’
‘You know nothing!’ Steven roared, grabbing Tilly by the throat and lifting her out of her chair. ‘You don’t know what he did.’ He sprayed her with saliva as he spoke, and she thought she might be sick.
Before Tilly had time to react the front door of the house was smashed down and officers came flooding into the house shouting at Steven to let her go. For a second, she was certain he was going to shove the knife into her stomach. His eyes were burning with rage but a moment later he released her and was smiling like he was stoned.
‘See you, Tilly,’ he called over his shoulder while officers dragged him out of the house as Barrett read him his rights.
Palmer rushed over to Tilly who had collapsed back onto the bistro chair, unable to stand or support her own weight.
‘You’re safe now.’ He put an arm around her shoulder. ‘It’s all over.’