‘I didn’t mean loyalty, I meant … that’s where you grew up with your family, wasn’t it?’
‘The place has been in the family for generations, which was why Grandad held on to it for so long. He wanted Robin to inherit it.’ She broke eye contact with the house to glance at her sergeant. ‘Can you imagine it? It’s like an arranged marriage, tying a young boy to a future like that. When Robin died, the house fell to me.’ But the farm land had gone to her uncle, and he subsequently sold it to Irving Industries to build their gated communities on. Simon Irving was a tougher nut to crack. He admitted his father had paid off John’s debts but denied any knowledge of the shootings which followed. Irving’s father had left John in a position that was impossible to back out of.
Gabby didn’t reply. There was nothing to say. She cast her eyes to the sky as the caws of stony-eyed ravens filled the air. In the distance, Sarah saw Richie parking his motorbike. She wasn’t alone. Not anymore.
‘Here we go!’ Sarah said, as the wrecking ball began to drive into position. She clenched her fists, her heart skipping a beat. It wouldn’t surprise her if the old place refused to fall. Whatever lay in its foundations would surely not give up without a fight. As she waited for the hammer to deliver the first blow, she turned to her sergeant, voicing her concerns.
‘Why did you really come here, Gabby? It wasn’t just for Jahmelia, was it?’
‘Anyone would think you’re a detective,’ she smiled. ‘Actually, I wanted to let you know that I’m recommending you’re taken off restricted duties. I want you full-time on the team.’ Her smile faded as she caught Sarah’s expression. ‘I thought you’d be excited. Haven’t you always wanted this?’
‘I thought so,’ Sarah said. ‘But sometimes the things you chase aren’t meant to be caught.’
Gabby looked at her quizzically. ‘So, you don’t want to be a detective full-time?’
‘I’m not ready. Not yet. I’ll keep taking statements if that’s OK. I want to deal with regular people and listen …really listento them.’ She shoved her hands into her pockets. For the first time in a long time, she felt positive about the future.
‘The voice of the people?’ Gabby’s eyebrows rose.
‘Why not?’ Sarah stared into the distance, waiting for the criticism to come. But Gabby wasn’t Yvonne. Her words came from a place of concern, not spite. Not that Yvonne had been saying much now that Gabby had returned.
‘Then I don’t have a problem with it, as long as it’s what you want.’ She zipped up her fleece and shuddered, looking straight ahead. ‘They sure are taking their time.’
The workmenweretaking their time, but Sarah did not want to join them to see what the hold-up was. Even now, after everything, the Manor was a formidable place.
‘Nanny, can we go now?’ Jahmelia looked at her grandmother hopefully. Sarah had a sneaking suspicion that Jahmelia wasn’t ready for the realms of her teenage years just yet.
‘I thought they’d be finished by now,’ Richie said, unzipping his leather jacket a couple of inches as he joined them.
‘So did we.’ Sarah laughed awkwardly. ‘I should have sold tickets.’ But the ring of her phone was about to alert her that Blackhall wasn’t done with her yet. It was the builder.
‘We have to hang fire,’ he said. ‘It’s a legal issue. We’re downing tools.’ As the call came to an abrupt end, Sarah stood in disbelief, staring at the building which had housed so much pain.
‘I can’t believe it.’ Exasperated, Sarah ran her fingers through her hair. ‘The builders can’t do it; there’s some legal problem. Blackhall Manor still stands.’
Epilogue
Wednesday, 25th December 2019
It seemed that even prison couldn’t keep the Midnight Man contained. Weeks after Lewis Carter’s arrest he was still all people could talk about. Online blogs, news articles and true crime podcasts were popping up daily to discuss the mystery of the army hero turned bad. On television, political chat show hosts discussed the government’s responsibility to help its fallen heroes and some enthusiastic Twitter users were campaigning to set Lewis free.
But not the townsfolk of Slayton. They couldn’t bring themselves to speak his name. Each limp yellow ribbon forged a memory of Angelica’s murder. Each house half-heartedly decorated for Christmas demonstrated an apathy arisen from shock. Bruised and battle-scarred, the people of Slayton had retreated into themselves, edgy and suspicious. Journalists were ignored, doorbells unanswered and curtains permanently closed.
Sarah cast her eyes to the left over Slayton’s expansive lake. It seemed a monochrome version of itself – much deeper and darker than before. Further down were the outskirts of Blackhall Woods. It was a no-go area for teenagers, and it was much to Sarah’s frustration that Blackhall Manor still stood. Despite locals wanting the building to be flattened, someone from out of town had kicked up a fuss. Blackhall was a listed building, and home to a colony of bats which were a species protected by law. Sarah set her gaze straight ahead. Despite the darkness surrounding Slayton, she still came back. Slayton wasn’t home; without her family she wasn’t sure she knew what home was, but itwasa part of her. Checking her watch, she edged her foot on the accelerator. Maggie was waiting. She couldn’t afford to be late.
Sarah had not planned on celebrating Christmas this year. Maggie, on the other hand, loved everything about it, and she wasn’t letting Sarah off the hook. It was why Sarah found herself at Maggie’s kitchen table, smiling at Elliott as he tucked into his turkey. Today was a day for proper napkins, for shiny candlesticks and the best plates. For the scent of cloves and oranges, of pine needles and cinnamon sticks. Maggie and Elliott had returned to Slayton having stayed with distant family after the shock of the news. But like Sarah, Maggie seemed compelled to return.
‘This looks amazing,’ Sarah said, enjoying the feast. But Maggie’s smile was strained, and she had lost more weight than was good for her.
‘How are you both?’ Sarah asked in a low voice as they worked their way through dinner. Christmas carols were playing in the background and Elliott seemed a million miles away.
‘Getting there,’ Maggie said, softly. ‘The counsellor said it’s going to take time for Elliott to process it all.’ Her glance fell lovingly on her son. He no longer carried his father’s medal. But seeing him looking like an ordinary little boy in his bright red Benetton jumper, new shoes and jeans brought a lump to Sarah’s throat. He caught Sarah staring and gave her a reassuring smile. Such a grown-up gesture brought it home what a special little boy he was.
‘Finished,’ Elliott said, jumping from the chair to play with the iPad Santa had brought. Sarah had furnished him with enough gift vouchers to keep him in games for a while.
‘I popped in to see Elsie this morning,’ Sarah said, resting her cutlery on the table. ‘You should visit her, she’s doing really well.’
But Maggie paled at the mention of her name. ‘I can’t. Not when …’ Her words faded but the meaning was clear. Not when her husband had tried to frame Christian.
