The Price, page 18
Inside the house was dark and lifeless.
‘William Garrett, this is the police.’
I waited for a sign of movement but there was nothing, so I stepped over the threshold. Although it was a warm day, the pre-rain humidity off the scale, the entrance hall felt damp, like the walls were breathing a sickly-sweet vile stench.
‘William Garrett?’
I moved along towards the end of the dark corridor.
‘Come on, mate, let’s keep looking,’ Mike whispered.
We went through to a living room, sweeping through and checking the corners and dark spaces in case he jumped out and tried to attack us. But there was still no sign of life. The place was a mess, old food containers and empty bottles strewn around. When we got up the stairs, we noticed signs of struggle; there was a door that had been kicked or barged open. Entering the room, we saw a bed, the covers in a heap on the floor. I looked beyond, to the gap between the edge of the bed and the radiator, and instinctively took a step back. The bloody remains of a man lay in a heap. His dead eyes were wide open, staring back at me.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
George
‘Mike, look,’ I said, pointing to a pair of white Nike trainers, the left one with blood on the toe.
‘Jesus.’
I stepped around the edge of the bed, moving closer to the corpse of Billy Garrett. There was no point looking for a pulse, no point administering CPR. The man was long gone. Mike recoiled when he saw him. He stepped backwards and as he did, he spotted another body, this time behind a chest of drawers. I looked at the second man. His left eye was missing. I didn’t know who he was, or how he was connected.
‘Fuck’s sake!’ I shouted.
‘George, calm down.’
‘I want Mantel now. I fucking want him in custody.’
‘George.’
‘He’s fucking with us now. Enough is enough.’
I stormed out of the room and back downstairs. Mike followed and grabbed me as I stepped out into the warmth of the evening.
‘Where are you going? We have to call it in.’
‘You call it in. I can’t fucking stand to be here.’
‘George. Please try to calm down.’
‘I don’t want to fucking calm down, Mike. I’m done being calm, I’m done pretending this shit isn’t getting to me now. I’m done being patient and hoping for the best. I’m done.’ I stopped speaking, unsure whether I was just talking about Mantel, or Tabatha’s illness, or both. ‘Fuck this.’
‘George.’
‘I’m going home, Mike, to be with my little girl. I can’t do this any more. She needs me. I need to be with my baby.’
I walked to the car and climbed in. Mike didn’t follow, instead getting straight on the phone to call in the grim discovery. I drove off, pulled out of the lane then turned right, and as the heavens opened, I began to cry. Death was everywhere it seemed, and I was powerless to stop any of it. I wasn’t crying for Garrett. I was crying because today, before I left the flat, I felt that something was different. That the news of Clara’s friend’s baby somehow confirmed the worst was happing to our own daughter.
‘I just want my life back; I just want my fucking life back,’ I shouted, driving hard into the storm. But even as I calmed, that same thought I’d had returned. I was losing my case, I was losing my daughter.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Clara
It only took me ten minutes to get to the garage. I wanted to be early, earlier than Mantel; I felt it was important because I needed him more than he needed me now. Standing to the side of the building, I did my best to shelter from the pouring rain but it was pointless, I was soon soaked to the skin. The smell of wet, warm tarmac took me somewhere else, somewhere easier, a different time before all this – somewhere in my youth, with bicycles and friends and long summer days, and although I wanted to stay there and remember the innocent times, the ease of my childhood, I knew I couldn’t. There was work to be done.
My thoughts shifted as the phone vibrated violently in my pocket and I struggled to pull it out. I looked at the caller ID. It was Mum’s number. She knew only to ring in emergencies, so as I pressed to accept the call, I thought I was going to be sick.
‘Mum?’
‘Clara, sorry, I didn’t know what to do.’
‘What is it? Is Tabs okay?’
‘She’s fine. Someone called Mike just messaged you asking where George was.’
‘So Tabatha is fine?’
‘Yes, love, she’s fine.’
‘Shit. You scared me.’
‘Sorry, love. I shouldn’t have rung.’
‘No, it’s fine. Who did you say messaged?’ I asked.
‘Mike?’
‘Mike. He’s George’s partner. George should be with him.’
‘Well apparently he’s not.’
‘Mum, open the Find My Friends app and see where George is.’
‘I’ve done that already; it says he’s on Sycamore Road. Clara, didn’t you say that’s where Mantel lives?’
‘Yes.’
‘I panicked. I thought if you’re going to Mantel and he’s also going to Mantel, George might see you with him.’
‘Thanks, Mum. Message Mike back straight away and tell him where George is.’
‘What’s he doing there?’
‘I don’t know, but I doubt he has a warrant, so it can’t be good. Tell Mike to hurry.’
‘What about you?’
‘Don’t worry, George won’t see me,’ I said, and hanging up. I sent Mantel a hurried text. I knew if I didn’t, he wouldn’t trust me, and I needed him to trust me so he would pay me. I had to warn him that my husband was going to his house, and if he hadn’t already left, he needed to stay at home, so George didn’t follow him, and bring him to me.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
George
I slowed down as I pulled into the quiet street where Henry Mantel lived. My self-pity had worn itself out; all that was left was rage. I knew that unless I took a stand, unless I did something, he would get away with everything he had done. I wasn’t sure if I was going to wait outside and watch or knock on his front door and kill the man. All I knew was my daughter was dying from a terrible disease and for me, Mantel had become the face of that illness.
The houses on Sycamore Road were known for their size and immaculate design. Each house was slightly different to the others, though they were all detached with long drives that swept up to their pillared front doors. Tidy lawns and double garages and children’s toys, bikes, basketball hoops and trampolines. None of them locked away. It was a suburban paradise. The dream that most people had, including me. And someone like Mantel had all this. The house, the wealth, the healthy children.
I hated him for it.
As I moved slowly along the street, I couldn’t help drawing comparisons. All I wanted was to do good, be good. A good copper, a good husband, and a good daddy. I was failing at them all. Life felt so unkind, so unfair and drawing up outside Mantel’s house, that sense of unfairness compacted. For a man who only cared about himself, only did terrible things, wrong things, he had it all.
I stopped at the bottom of his drive and stayed in the car. I could see Mantel in his kitchen, staring out of the window directly at me. Like somehow he knew I was coming to his door. I kept my eye on him as I got out of the car. The rain was pouring down, but I didn’t rush as made my way up his long drive towards his house. I was not backing down. And then, at the front door, I waited. I didn’t knock, I wanted him to expect it, and for it not to come. I wanted him to worry why it hadn’t. After a minute, the door opened.
‘Can I help you?’ Mantel said as the door swung open, and I couldn’t find the words to speak. ‘What the fuck do you want, DS Goodwin?’
I opened my mouth to say something and again, nothing came.
‘Get the fuck off my doorstep.’
Mantel stepped back to close the door, but I stopped it with my hand and pushed back. I didn’t know what I was doing, or what I would do next. All I was thinking was how unfair it all was, and if I let Mantel shut his front door, I would somehow lose something.
‘I strongly suggest you leave; this won’t end well for you.’
‘I know it was you who killed Hunter.’
‘Hunter? I don’t know a Hunter.’
‘And I know you killed Garrett and the other man.’
‘Again, I don’t know who you’re talking about.’
‘I’ll find the evidence.’
‘Good luck with that.’
Behind me, I heard a car pull up and the engine stop.
‘DS Goodwin.’ It was a voice I wasn’t expecting; DCI Mercer. I turned to see her and two uniformed officers approaching.
‘Your boss is here to stop you from doing something stupid. Now given you don’t have a warrant, get the fuck off my property.’
Mantel again tried to close the door and this time I stuck my foot in the way to stop him.
‘You’ve got a death wish,’ he said, smirking at me.
‘Is that a threat?’ I hoped it was, I hoped for a fight.
‘Go home to your kid before the cancer kills her.’
I saw red and before he could close the door, I grabbed him and dragged him out of the house. Slamming him against the wall, my hands found their way to his throat and I pressed hard. As I squeezed and watched Mantel’s eyes start to bulge, I was grabbed by the two uniformed officers and dragged away from him. Mantel dropped to the floor, coughing and struggling to draw breath.
‘Let go of me, let go.’
I wanted to kill him, to end him. I wanted to wipe him off the planet. But the two uniformed officers didn’t let go and despite my struggle, they managed to drag me away. They left me with Mercer before going back to make sure Mantel was unharmed. I was expecting a bollocking, but as Mantel was still within earshot, Mercer just told me to go home.
‘I’m sorry, boss, I’m so sorry. He killed those men, I know it.’
‘Maybe. However, this isn’t the way we go about solving it, or anything else. Go home, George, that’s an order.’
Mercer waited for me to get into my car, then she turned and walked towards Mantel, her hands held up, palms showing. Even with the door closed I could hear Mantel’s smug tones. I’d fucked the case, ruined the months of work, the late nights, the stress. All for nothing. Whatever evidence I put before a court now, his solicitor would be able to bat away because I had just assaulted him.
I took one last look and resigned to the fact I was in a lot of trouble, I fired up the engine and left.
As I headed back into town, I had to turn my car lights on as the thick clouds were directly overhead, rendering the waning evening sun powerless to hold back the night. The rain drummed on my car, and to drown it out I listened to chatter playing through the police radio. The static easing the dread I was feeling, I wasn’t really listening to what was being said until someone in dispatch stated there was an alarm sounding, asking who was closest to have a look. I didn’t think anything of it as it was likely a false alarm. Then they mentioned the address. It was a garage on the outskirts of town. Mantel’s garage. Which meant he was being robbed, which meant we were wrong about Garrett and the link to catching Mantel was still out there. I knew I’d been ordered to go home, I knew I should leave it. I was in no fit state to do anything properly. I knew I was in deep shit for assaulting Mantel and this was going to be taken care of – over the radio I heard another officer confirm he was already driving over to investigate. But when they gave their current location, I also knew I was closer, much closer. And I couldn’t let it go.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
George
The high-pitched alarm screeched above the sound of falling rain. Its shrill piercing noise made it difficult to hear any movement coming from inside the building, but I knew he was there, somewhere. The side door to the garage was smashed open and the shards of glass scattered over the floor shimmered in the reflection of the streetlights. He was there. He was inside, and he would have to come out through the broken door I was standing next to; I just had to be patient and wait for him to make a run for it. He would come to me, and I would use the cover of night to surprise him. However, even knowing I had the advantage, I was nervous. He was proving to be slippery, resourceful. If I screwed this up, I knew I’d likely not get another chance. If I fucked this up, I might get hurt, or worse.
Forcing myself to steady my breathing in the hope it would lower my heart rate, calm me, and stop me from acting on impulse, I stepped back against a wall ten or so feet from the door and pressed myself against it, feeling safe in the knowledge that no one could sneak up on me.
I looked into the building, trying to make out any movement in the darkness, hoping I wasn’t mistaken in the belief he was still inside. For too long I had wanted this man – he represented the keystone to bringing down Henry Mantel, the man who had caused so much pain and suffering, the man I had fought to bring to justice for over a year. Right now, Mantel’s associate didn’t know I was here, waiting. Finally, I had the upper hand.
Just as I began to doubt myself, I heard a noise coming from inside the garage. It was nothing more than a shuffle, but it was enough. Moments later I saw movement and the surge of adrenaline flooded from my stomach, into my arms, legs, head, readying my muscles for a fight. For so long I had wanted to find a way to Mantel, and the person who was the crucial link to enable an arrest was about to step out of a crime scene in front of me. As a police officer I didn’t often feel on edge, but as I waited, I struggled to contain my nerves. The man, the thief, climbed through the broken door and out into the rain. I sprang out of my concealed spot and tried to grab him, though he twisted out of my grip and began to run.
I had to stop him escaping.
‘Stop! Police!’ I shouted, stepping out into the light, blocking his way. The man looked back, his face obscured by a baseball cap and a shroud of mist from the pouring rain.
‘I said stop!’ I shouted, giving chase.
But the man kept running, and he was fast, the distance between us continuing to grow. In a straight sprint, I wouldn’t stand a chance – but this was no ordinary race. I’d been to this garage many times, and I knew that the thief was heading towards a dead end, a self-made trap. I would catch him, arrest him, and finally I’d have Henry Mantel for his crimes. For too long Mantel had been one step ahead, for too long he’d acted like he was untouchable. But not any more. Once I had the thief in custody, the truth would spill about Mantel and the robberies, the drugs and – more recently – the murders he had committed. Who this guy was, beyond a thief, I didn’t care. I only needed him as leverage, to land the bigger fish.
Although the wall behind the building did form a dead end, I knew the man would likely be able to scale it, but to do so, he would have to slow down. I’d gain a crucial a few seconds to close the gap, grab him, and drag him to the ground. This man, this thief, was the key to it all, every single crime, every single death.
Soon I would finally have my answers.
I didn’t shout again to tell him to stop, it was pointless. Instead, I used that energy to propel myself forward, to push vital oxygen into my leg muscles which were now beginning to slow. The suspect rounded the corner and I knew this was my moment. If I could catch him before he got over the wall, I’d be able to drag him down and hold him until another officer arrived. The man looked over his shoulder, saw me advancing and then in a panic began to run straight for the wall. He jumped, grabbed the ledge and began to heave himself over. It slowed him, just as I hoped, and although my lungs were burning, I gained considerable ground. As the thief swung one leg over the top, I lunged and grabbed the other, pulling him back onto the ground. Both of us landed heavily, my shoulder taking the brunt, but from the sudden huff of air that was forced from the thief’s body, I knew he had landed more awkwardly than I had and was now winded. But he didn’t give up trying to escape; he began to resist, struggling to get free, and soaked through, holding him became difficult.
‘Stop resisting!’ I shouted, but the man didn’t, and he managed to slip free. As he scrambled to his feet, turning to run in the other direction, towards freedom, I swiped at his left leg, smacking it into his right and sending him over again. He cried out in pain as he hit the floor, and the sound of his voice stopped me in my tracks.
The suspect rolled onto his back and then sat up knowing the chase was over. In the struggle, his baseball hat had been knocked off. As the thief lifted his head, his gaze meeting my eyes, I struggled to understand who I was seeing.
It wasn’t a man as I had always assumed. Panting, with rainwater running into her eyes and mud covering half of her face, sat my wife.
‘George, I have to go,’ she said as I sat there speechless, frozen in shock. ‘George, you have to let go of my arm.’ She had to shout over the rain slamming onto the tin roof of the garage behind us.
‘Clara?’ I said, unable to let go.
‘I can’t explain, not now, but I will. I have to go, before someone else gets here.’
I felt myself tighten my grip.
‘George, you have to let me go.’
‘Clara, I don’t understand. You’re the one who’s been robbing Mantel? You’re the thief?’
‘Yes, please, let me go.’
‘Fuck.’
‘I’ll explain everything, I promise.’
My eye was drawn behind us, as approaching blue lights flashed through the trees.
‘I know this is a shock and I’m sorry you had to find out this way. But you have to make a choice right now.’
As I struggled to speak, I let go of her arm and Clara pulled herself up onto her feet, offering her hand to help me up too. The blue lights were drawing closer.
