‘I’ve got my own solicitor, thanks, and in for a penny, in for a pound,’ she replied. ‘Anyway, it’s a bit late now.’
‘So, Freya really is my sister.’ Patrick was wrestling with the officers holding his arms. ‘Why didn’t you just say that instead of coming up with all that crap about her not being suitable? She was just a gold digger, you said. That’s fucking priceless, that is.’
‘I was trying to protect you.’ Diana looked up at Dixon, her eyes welling up. ‘He really didn’t know about any of this. Neither did Freya. Sally didn’t even know we’d taken her old uniform.’
‘And Will killed Sean Rodwell?’
‘He thought the game was up by then and wanted to make damn sure he got him before it was too late. He was watching the halfway house in Weston when Rodwell came out, and he grabbed him. I told Will it was over and we should just come clean, but there was no stopping him by then. Then that silly girl and her colleague came sniffing around the barn. He was under so much pressure and he just flipped, I think. I hadn’t been able to give him any more money since my husband died, and his business was going under. Again. This deal was his last chance. It’s why he insisted on killing the last bridge player. I said the game was up by then, you were on to us, but he did it anyway. Are they all right, your two colleagues?’
‘They’ll live,’ replied Dixon.
‘I’m sorry, for all of it. You do what you think is right at each turn and, before you know it, there’s no going back.’
Chapter Forty-Three
‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
Jane was holding a bunch of flowers in both hands, trying to shield them from the rain. ‘We’ve come all this way. And you’ve got the key from the estate agent now.’
Dixon inserted it in the lock and turned it, the chain dropping to the ground. Then he pushed open the gates, ignoring the barking coming from his Land Rover behind him.
‘Aren’t you going to bring him?’
‘Not with all this mud,’ he replied. ‘He can have a run on the beach when we get home.’
He wasn’t sure whether it was tears or raindrops rolling down Jane’s cheeks as they picked their way across the mud. There were plenty of boot prints, the ground floors of the two houses marked out with tape ready for building work to start, a ‘Sold Subject to Contract’ notice stuck at a jaunty angle across the ‘For Sale’ board at the entrance.
‘Where was he buried?’ asked Jane.
Dixon had read the witness statements from the builders and looked at the photographs, and knew roughly where it was, although the site looked very different now. ‘It was about here,’ he said, gesturing to the ground at his feet. ‘That was the house they lived in.’
‘Poor little mite.’ Jane leaned over and placed the flowers on the ground, the rain hitting the cellophane wrapper with that familiar pit-pat.
‘You’ve left the price on them,’ said Dixon.
‘Does it matter?’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Everybody seems to forget this poor little lad. He was only three months old.’ Jane took Dixon’s hand and squeezed it. ‘The first victim.’
‘Eight people dead, and it all started with little Jos Hope-Bruce.’
‘Yeah.’
‘C’mon, let’s go home.’
‘Can we just stand here for a minute?’ Jane’s hands were resting on her abdomen, feeling for a kick, possibly. There’d been a lot of that lately.
‘Of course we can,’ replied Dixon, although he’d have brought his brolly from the back of the car if he’d known.
‘Did you get a charging decision out of the CPS?’ she asked.
‘Diana’s been charged with five counts of murder, to add to the manslaughter and concealment of a body. That includes Geoffrey Pannell’s murder, even though her brother wielded the knife – it was part of a joint enterprise. They’ve dropped the abduction, though; she had parental consent all along.’
‘What was that story about her brother protecting her?’
‘Their father.’
‘Enough said.’ Jane sighed. ‘What about Patrick?’
‘There’s no evidence he knew anything about it, just like she said, so he’s off the hook. Got enough to be worrying about, mind you, although Diana is giving him the house and what money she’s got, so he won’t be short of a bob or two.’
‘It’s the least she could do.’
‘It’s not as if she’s going to need it where she’s going, and the chances of her ever getting out are pretty slim. She might well get a whole life order.’
‘Good.’
‘It’s Sally I feel sorry for. She’s going to lose the lot, and her and her girls are going to be homeless. Freya too, when their houses are repossessed.’
‘Freya will go and live with her brother, I expect,’ said Jane. ‘Only not as a couple.’
Their feet were starting to sink into the mud, rivulets trickling across the building plot from the raised ground behind. ‘A bit of drainage work to be done, I think,’ muttered Dixon.
‘I spoke to Deborah Potter this morning. Told her I was going on maternity leave, effective immediately.’
‘What did she say?’
