The Dead

24

I had never seen the man before, but we picked him up on CCTV easy enough. It was Palmer’s army-jacket guy. My blokes stopped him before he got too close to the main door of the Cauldron. Vince took their call, listened for a moment, then lowered the phone so he could speak to me.

‘There’s a fella downstairs says he wants to see you. The boys told him to fuck off but he said he knew you were here and he wouldn’t leave till you heard what he had to say. They threatened to kick the shit out of him and he just laughed, said he didn’t care what they did to him.’

‘Bloody hell,’ commented Kinane, ‘he’s either nails or he’s as mad as a badger.’

‘Who is he?’ I asked.

‘He says his name is Bell, Matt Bell,’ answered Vince.

‘Do you know who he is?’ asked Kinane.

‘Yes,’ I said, finally understanding, ‘he’s the father of Leanne Bell, the little girl Baxter killed.’

‘Jesus,’ said Kinane.

‘What do you want me to do?’ asked Vince.

I didn’t want to turn the poor bastard away, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t want to hear what he had to say to me. In the end I said, ‘They’d better bring him up.’

Two of our guys escorted Matt Bell into the room. I noticed that they stayed close to him but I had two guys from the door, plus Palmer, Kinane and Vince with me, so I didn’t feel in any danger. The man before me must have been in his late forties, but you could see in his eyes that he’d been through something resembling a hell on earth. Our guys were all big, hard blokes, but he didn’t seem remotely intimidated by them. I watched as he glanced at Kinane, Palmer and Vince, then finally his eyes fell on me.

‘David Blake?’ I nodded. ‘My name is Matt Bell,’ he told me, ‘do you know who I am? Why I have come here to see you today?’

‘I think so, yes.’ He dipped his head slightly, as if to acknowledge that I hadn’t bothered to lie to him. ‘Take a seat,’ I told him.

‘I’m fine standing thanks,’ he replied then, without preamble, he began. ‘There’s a man being held on remand in Durham jail called Henry Baxter. I understand you know him?’

I couldn’t see any point in lying about that, ‘I do. He has worked for me for a while.’

‘Then you know what he has done to get himself in Durham nick?’

‘I know what the police are telling me he’s done, yes.’

‘Baxter murdered my daughter, Mr Blake.’ He said it with a conviction that was absolute, then his voice cracked, ‘My little girl’. He cleared his throat, then he continued, ‘Sorry,’ he said, ‘I promised myself I would say my piece and get out of here without making a bigger fool of myself than necessary, but it’s hard. It was ten years ago, but I think about it every day, so it doesn’t feel like ten years to me,’ then he balled a fist and planted it firmly against his chest to indicate his heart, ‘my grief is still fresh.’

‘I understand.’

‘Do you?’ His tone made it clear that he seriously doubted that. ‘I assume the police are telling us both the same thing, that there’s no doubt Henry Baxter is the man who murdered Leanne. Baxter raped and strangled a thirteen-year-old girl, then he drove her out into the country. He dug a ditch at the edge of a field and he dumped her in it, so we couldn’t find her. Two months, Mr Blake. That’s how long it took for the police to discover my little girl’s body. For eight weeks my wife and I clung to the slim belief that she might still be alive, somehow, that maybe she’d just run away, even though that hope was chipped away with every freezing night that passed until they found her.’ My crew stayed silent while he said his piece, everyone afforded him that respect. ‘All those days spent knowing our baby was most likely gone forever but, until we knew for sure, we would allow ourselves to hope that she could be alive somewhere and we might get her back one day.’

‘Then the police told us they’d found her,’ he paused to let that sink in, ‘after two months,’ then he looked at me closely before telling me, ‘I had to identify her. I couldn’t put my wife through that.’

‘I’m very sorry,’ I said, ‘for what that’s worth, and I know it isn’t much.’

‘I don’t suppose you can imagine how that felt?’ he asked me.

‘No,’ I replied truthfully, ‘I can’t.’

‘And you don’t want to?’

‘No,’ I agreed, ‘I don’t.’

He seemed relieved that I hadn’t tried to bullshit him and he sighed, ‘Nobody does. I can’t say I blame them. They feel for you but they don’t know what to say. What is there to say? We didn’t get invited to too many parties after.’

‘They were all there for the funeral mind,’ he continued, ‘I’ll give them that; all the friends and relatives. The church was packed. Loads of people we didn’t even know turned up that day. My wife thought that was lovely. Lots of strangers outside the church to pay their respects. I thought they were ghouls, grief-tourists intruding on our pain. I wanted to scream at them to piss off, but I knew it would upset my wife, so I stayed silent. My little girl’s funeral was on the evening news. The presenter was very solemn, for about a minute, then they cut to the football results, like everything was alright again. I couldn’t believe anyone could actually care about the football when my Leanne was lying cold in her grave and her killer was still out there.’

I didn’t say anything. I knew he wasn’t done yet.

‘When the funeral was over, we gradually lost touch with the friends and the neighbours. They didn’t want to come round any more. The ones with kids must have felt guilty that it wasn’t their little boy or girl, or maybe they thought our bad luck would rub off on them. You know the worst part? I used to lie awake at night and wish it on them instead. Isn’t that awful? I used to wish that sick man had taken another little girl, anybody’s, I didn’t care whose, just not mine. I’d see lasses in the street about the same age as Leanne and I’d resent them because they were still walking around when she couldn’t and I’d dream about another reality where it was one of my neighbour’s kids whose funeral we’d all attended.’

‘My wife wanted to try again, after a while, for another child I mean, but I just couldn’t. I felt like we were trying to replace Leanne, betraying her somehow and I wouldn’t go along with it. Eventually she wanted to tidy all of Leanne’s things up, put them in boxes and “move forward” as she called it. Even the counsellor said that might be for the best, that it might stop me from living in the past. I wanted to smash his face in for saying that to me.

‘It was never going to work for my wife and me after that. She once told me, after the divorce, that every time she looked at me, my face reminded her of Leanne and it broke her heart,’ and he gave me a humourless smile. ‘What chance did we have, eh?’

‘I can’t imagine what you have been through, Mr Bell, I really can’t. None of us can. But I know you came here for a reason, so what is it that you want from me?’

‘Henry Baxter worked for you.’

‘Yes, but obviously I never knew… please believe that. I would never have…’

‘You never knew that he was a child murderer, you mean?’

‘Of course not.’

He shrugged. ‘How could you know? They’re not like the psychos on the films, are they? Child killers look quite ordinary. Otherwise we’d see them coming and warn our children to stay away from them, but we certainly didn’t see him coming. He lived a few streets away but we didn’t know what a monster he was. The police didn’t even bother to interview him at the time. I’d lie awake at night knowing he was out there somewhere, whoever he was, getting on with his life, unpunished, enjoying himself, perhaps even planning to do it again.’

I could have told him that Baxter served prison time for fraud since then but I didn’t think he’d view that as any form of justice, so I kept silent.

‘Baxter is no friend of mine, you can be assured of that.’

‘But he has hired a new legal team,’ he told me, ‘expensive ones, the best. The police were surprised he was able to do that. They thought you might have had something to do with it.’

‘I don’t know why they would think that. He’s not been with me that long.’

‘Can you look me in the eye and tell me you are not the one paying for the fancy lawyers, Mr Blake? Can you do that?’

‘I don’t wish to offend you, Mr Bell. You’ve been through a great deal and every man in this room feels for you, but I don’t have to look you in the eye and say anything.’

‘No,’ he admitted, ‘I suppose you don’t. I would like to ask you for something though… I know you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to but…’

‘I’ll help if I can.’

‘Don’t protect Henry Baxter. He killed my daughter. The police know it, the CPS know it, I know it and you know it too. The DNA evidence proves it and I want justice for my darling girl. She was thirteen years old when Baxter murdered her, she’d have been twenty-three now, married maybe, perhaps with a kid of her own. I might have been a grandfather. I understand you are a father too, Mr Blake. The police told me you have a daughter, so now I am appealing to you, as one father to another, not to help Henry Baxter. Please, I’m begging you in fact.’

I knew that every eye in the room was on me. I could feel Kinane staring at me intently and Matt Bell’s gaze didn’t leave mine for a moment.

‘Family money,’ I told him, ‘that’s how he can afford his fancy lawyer, Mr Bell. Henry Baxter will get no help from me,’ I assured him and felt one step closer to hell when that poor man’s shoulders slumped in relief and he thanked me.