Jayne was driving too quickly as they headed to Bill’s house. Dan gripped the door handle and his legs tensed, his foot slamming an imaginary brake.
As they turned into his street, Dan pointed and said, ‘Look, I told you he’s fine. His car’s here.’
‘That doesn’t mean anything,’ she said, as she skidded to a stop and rushed towards the front door. She banged on it but there was no reply. She went to his windows and peered through, her hands cupped around her eyes to block the glow of the nearby streetlight.
There was no one in. She could make out his sofa and the dark outline of the television. His car was there though, so he came home, at least.
She banged once more, even though she knew it was pointless. She thought about calling the police, her instinct telling her that something was amiss, but what would they do? An adult wasn’t at home? Hardly enough to start a manhunt.
Dan’s phone rang. It was Murdoch again.
‘Anything new?’ He sounded tetchy.
‘Do you remember the woman who went for a walk with her dog and never came home, Annie Yates? Turns out that she knew Trudy.’
He held up his hand to attract Jayne’s attention, who had gone back to looking through Bill’s windows. ‘Keep going.’
‘They’d gone to school together, but Annie moved away when she met her husband. Trudy had looked her up not long before, which had surprised Annie’s friends, because Trudy had been quiet at school, almost unnoticeable, whereas Annie had been one of the popular girls. Trudy found her on one of those Internet sites where you connect with old classmates. They met up a couple of times, but when she went missing Trudy faded into the background. And why wouldn’t she? There was no reason to suspect her.’
‘They must all have a connection to Sean and Trudy,’ Dan said. ‘These aren’t random abductions. They’ve sought people out. Do you know anything else about Trudy?’
‘If you’re looking for a narrative, some story of a girl reacting against a bad upbringing, you’d be mistaken. It was ordinary. Decent parents, suburban living. If you want my take, it was about the excitement, the thrill of the forbidden, something wild. There doesn’t always have to be a reason.’
‘Keep on looking.’
‘Don’t tell me how to do my job,’ she said, and hung up.
Jayne moved away from the window. ‘Good news?’
‘Another victim connected to Sean and Trudy. Annie Yates.’
‘Do you remember when we were going through the clippings?’ Jayne said, animatedly. ‘We talked about Charlotte Crane, the woman who went missing the same night that Lizzie was killed. Peter said Sean was out cruising because he followed the boat. Lizzie wasn’t killed by Sean, we know that now, and perhaps she was never in danger anyway. Too random. But if they select their victims, groom them almost, what if Charlotte was their target instead? We were trying to connect Charlotte’s disappearance to the others to rule out Peter, but can we connect her to Sean or Trudy?’
‘You’re right.’
‘And we don’t have to leave it to Murdoch to find everything out.’
‘That’s her job.’
‘No, that’s our job. There’s only one place to go.’
‘Where?’
‘Charlotte Crane’s house.’
Bill huffed as the chair he was strapped to was kicked over. His knees banged on the compacted ground and the dirt scratched his cheeks.
It didn’t seem real anymore. He sucked in deep breaths and tried to tell himself that he was still alive, to be strong, to get through this for Tom’s sake.
It was hard though. He put his forehead to the ground. Kill me, he thought, almost involuntarily, make it end and let me join Tom. No more pain. He had no information to give them apart from some names and his own theory.
It was the pain they enjoyed, the fear, the power they had over him.
He fought against the bindings, but it was no use. He lay there, staring straight ahead, wanting it to end. Do it, he thought again. Kill me.
Trudy grabbed his hair as Sean pulled the chair upright again. They were both panting. Part-exertion, part-excitement.
‘It’s time for me to go,’ Sean said. ‘I need to rest for tomorrow. You stay with him.’
‘Are you sure I shouldn’t come to court?’
‘No. Divide and conquer is how they would win, because we’d trip up somewhere. Me on my own, I can’t do that. Just keep him alive in case Dan needs proof of it.’
‘Just keep me up to date.’
‘Yeah, you too. Let me know if he tells you more. I need to be prepared.’
Trudy nodded but didn’t reply. Her focus was entirely on Bill.
As Sean went up the stairs and out of the cottage for another walk along the towpath and a taxi ride, Trudy stepped closer. ‘Now you’re going to talk.’
‘How many times? I’ve told you everything.’ Blood drooled from his mouth.
Trudy slapped him, making his cheek sting.
‘Why are you doing this?’
‘TELL ME WHAT YOU KNOW!’
‘I’ve told you everything.’
‘So tomorrow, Dan Grant can only throw a few names at Sean, nothing more? He can only repeat Peter’s accusations?’
He nodded and let his head hang down. His lip trembled.
Trudy punched him in the ribs, making him cry out.
‘Just let me go. Please.’
Trudy rolled her eyes. ‘You’ve forgotten to say, “I won’t tell anyone.” And that’s because we both know that it isn’t true.’
Bill closed his eyes and took some deep breaths as he tried to make the pain go away, but it made it worse, his ribs sending out sharp jabs. He let out a sob. They say fight or flight, but he had nothing left for either. ‘Just tell me why.’
Trudy leaned in and whispered, ‘Now for the deep psychological discussion. I love this part. This is where I break down and tell you how he makes me do it. How I’m a victim too. Big bad Sean, the sicko.’
‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘Oh, you did.’ She kneed him in the side, and when Bill arched his back in pain, Trudy gritted her teeth. ‘You think it’s got easier because it’s just me here, that I’m the soft one?’ She scoffed. ‘Bullshit. You want answers? I’ll give you answers. I like it. No, it’s more than that. I love it, because I’ve got the power. Little Trudy, for once I get what I want.’
‘You think? He’s making you do this, can’t you see?’
Trudy sat back on the floor and leaned against the wall by the stairs. Bill had to squint to see her, the light still trained on him.
‘You think you’ve got all the answers, old man, that I’m the weak one here?’ She shook her head. ‘You’ve got it so wrong. Can’t you see that I brought him here, knowing how he likes the rough stuff? Yes, he’s like a growling dog, but I’m holding the lead. He daren’t leave me because he knows how much I know, and I know it all.’
‘That makes you sound trapped.’
‘No, he’s trapped. I could leave anytime, except he doesn’t realise that. I’ve got all the power.’
‘And you like this?’
Trudy grinned, the gleam in her eyes obvious, despite the glare from the lamp. ‘I love it, old man.’
‘You sick bitch.’
Trudy laughed. It echoed round the cellar. ‘Don’t make me love it more. This is it. Don’t you get it? The fun we’ve had, with all these people hiding away in their lives. What’s the new term? Basic bitches? That’s it. That’s what they are. I saw them growing up, all so ordinary, wanting the job and the man and the kids and the oh-so-boring suburbia. Makes me sick. All so fucking basic.’
‘I don’t see that.’ He spat some blood on to the floor. ‘What do you have, really, that’s more? Stuck here, in Highford, with your man, standing by his side. Who did you say was holding the lead? Who’s the basic bitch?’
Trudy scrambled towards him and gripped him around the jaw.
He twisted out of it. ‘What are you scared of?’
‘Me? I’m not scared of anything, and that’s what you don’t understand.’
‘Why am I still alive then?’
Trudy didn’t respond.
‘It’s not about me being a hostage. Sean could make the threat to Dan whether I’m alive or dead, because it’s not as if you’re going to let me go if Dan does as he asks. You know I’m right. You’ve killed the others. Why not me? Because it’s the end, and you know it. All you’ve got left is your legacy, whatever you think that is. You won’t have each other so you want people to know what you’ve done. If you kill me but they still catch you, what have you got? Keep me alive and I can tell the story of how you really are. You’re worried about being labelled the little woman, the victim of his manipulation. Not if I’m around to tell the story.’
Trudy gripped his jaw again. ‘Or perhaps I just enjoy the torture, because when they’re dead, I feel used up. I feel empty.’ She laughed and pushed him away. ‘Yeah, the irony of it. And do you know what’s another irony? Go on, guess.’
‘I’m not playing your game.’
‘I’ll tell you anyway. Sean has to go to court tomorrow, so he’ll have an alibi, a good one. You’ll die in the morning and he’ll be in the clear. Do you know where he is now?’
Bill didn’t answer.
‘He’s gone to a hotel close to the courtroom, where they’ll track his credit card, and he’ll buy a film too, just to give him a time stamp. And the lobby will have CCTV that will catch him when he leaves in the morning, after his hearty breakfast in front of witnesses.’
Bill tried to swallow down his fear, determined not to let it show. ‘Where’s the irony?’
‘You came after Sean, to prop up Peter’s story, but now you’ll guarantee his freedom, because Dan Grant will do as he asks.’
‘What about you?’
‘It’s Sean they want, not me. We won’t let them prise our stories apart. No one knows you’re here, or else the police would be all over this place. You’re alive because I choose it, and the end will come when I choose it. Tell me, are you religious?’
‘Why?’
‘Just that if you are, you’ll see your loved ones again pretty soon. Some solace. If you’re not, well—’ and she laughed. ‘This is it.’
Bill closed his eyes. Some part of him wanted that to be true.