When the Evil Waits by M Lee (i want to read a book .txt) 📗

‘Nick a copper’s bike? They wouldn’t dare.’

‘They’d nick a Jumbo Jet if it was parked round here,’ laughed Chrissy.

‘No worries, we’ll sling it in the boot of the Vauxhall. If I can fit three burly coppers in there, it can fit a bike.’

Emily didn’t ask what three coppers were doing in Ridpath’s boot, and he didn’t tell her.

Chapter 28

There had been five minutes of silence between them as Ridpath drove from Central Manchester out to Wythenshawe.

The car smelt slightly of oil from Emily’s bike jammed into the back seat. They had tried to fit it in the boot but it was too large.

It was Emily who spoke first. ‘You know, Turnbull has run this investigation by the book. I’ve been working on it from the start – I don’t think we made any mistakes.’

‘Great, it means I’ll have nothing to report when I speak to Claire Trent on Saturday.’ He signalled left, glancing across at her as he did. ‘I’m not out to get Turnbull, I just want to solve the case.’

She laughed. ‘He’s out to get you.’

‘That bad, huh.’

‘Worse. I think he blames you for upsetting his first investigation as the DCI in charge of the Major Investigation Team. He feels you undermined him and, as long as you’re in MIT, you are a challenge to his authority.’ She pursed her lips. ‘He’s not a man used to being challenged.’

‘We caught the killer, I thought that’s all that mattered.’

‘Sometimes, Ridpath, I think you’re so naive. How have you survived all these years?’

‘By doing my job.’

Silence descended in the car again. Ridpath spoke next. ‘How was life in my absence?’

‘You mean how was MIT?’

He nodded, staring straight ahead at the road.

‘The usual. The grinding boredom of preparing cases for CPS, followed by moments of exhilaration, and then the heartbreak of disappointment as yet another villain gets off through a technicality, or the trickery of a clever barrister. In other words, life as usual in the police. How was…’ She hesitated for a moment.

‘Go on, if you don’t ask now, forever hold your peace and all that.’

She took the plunge. ‘How were you?’

He began breathing in and out slowly as he had been taught by Dr Underwood, concentrating on the positive aspects of his breath. ‘Not so good at first, after Polly died, I mean. It took me a while to accept she was gone.’

‘I thought the force provided bereavement counselling?’

‘They do, but you still have to work it out for yourself. The feelings. The guilt.’ He paused for a moment, his fingers tapping furiously on the steering wheel. ‘And then the doctors diagnosed me with PTSD.’

‘As a result of her death?’

He nodded. ‘Well, I was in a service apartment, drinking too much and sleeping too little. Eve was at her grandparents’ and the treatment hadn’t started because of lockdown.’

‘Not a great time…’

He laughed ruefully. ‘The understatement of the year. Gradually, though, time works and the treatment kicks in, and you use the coping strategies to handle the anxiety.’

‘But you’re back to normal now?’

‘To quote my therapist, “define normal?”’

She laughed again. ‘You seem like you’re back to your old self.’

‘I don’t know if I’ll ever be my “old self” again – perhaps he died with Polly.’ Before Emily Parkinson could ask another question, he jammed on the brakes and pulled up the handbrake. ‘We’re here.’

They were in a car park in the middle of Wythenshawe Park. Ridpath stepped out of the car, immediately taking in his surroundings.

It was funny to think that here in the middle of one of the largest council estates in Europe was this little bit of the English countryside. Trees waved in the breeze, clouds scudded across the blue sky, a few children were shouting to each other but he couldn’t hear their words. A horticultural centre from the old Tatton Estate was on one side – he could just see the tops of the glass greenhouses. On the other was a riding centre and a community farm.

‘The playground is this way,’ said Emily.

He followed her as she strode off to the right. The car park was open and easy to look around with no surrounding buildings. Had the killer parked here before picking up David Carsley?

There were no CCTV cameras. Why was that? He thought all car parks had them these days.

As if reading his mind, Emily answered, ‘No CCTV. We checked with the council, they haven’t got round to installing it yet. The cutbacks…’

Her voice trailed off. Cutbacks seemed to be the excuse for everything these days, but he wondered, if this park had been located in a more upmarket area, would the same restrictions apply?

‘The park was created from the old Tatton estate when they built the council houses. The old Hall is over there.’

‘Wasn’t there a fire a few years ago?’ He remembered the house from a school trip many years ago when he had been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. It was an old Tudor mansion, with oddly shaped rooms and beautiful wooden floors. Stepping into one upstairs room was like stepping back into the past.

‘Yeah, it was set on fire by somebody off his face. I think they’re still repairing the damage. It was due to open this year but hasn’t yet.’ She threw her arms out. ‘The whole park is about 270 acres.’

‘Big.’

‘I think I walked over every inch of it when we searched the place.’

‘You didn’t find anything?’

‘Lots of stuff, but nothing related to David Carsley.’

They were walking along a path. On their right, Ridpath could see the playground through the trees. The equipment had obviously seen better days. There were swings, a slide and a few other smaller pieces for young kids, but it was all old and careworn, nothing modern at all.

‘So David was playing here alone on the day he was abducted?’

‘Right.’

Ridpath circled 360 degrees. There were picnic tables on one side and trees surrounded the site. ‘Nobody was sitting at those tables?’

‘Apparently not. You have to remember it was lunchtime, around one thirty.’

He wondered if the