Mo Hayder - Hanging Hill

Shit, she thought. Sally had been right. Kelvin had taken photos of her that night.

‘Ben – just tell me. What have you found? Is it Goldrab?’

‘There was a contract out on Goldrab – you knew that. The SIB have taken Mooney in. He’s not talking.’

‘And?’

‘We found Goldrab’s teeth – buried in Kelvin’s back garden.’

She let her breath out. ‘OK,’ she said cautiously. ‘So it was Kelvin, then, who killed Goldrab?’

‘Looks like it. But that’s not what’s worrying me. It’s something else. What happened was that while we were searching we found a bunch of paperwork. I’ve been going through it all this week. And now…’

‘Now what?’

‘I’ve decided he didn’t kill Lorne.’

She gaped at him. ‘Didn’t kill her?’

‘Or rape her.’

‘Jesus. What the hell did you find?’

‘OK, OK. Listen. He did what he did to you and, Zoë, that was the worst thing I could imagine happening. Ever. I still don’t know how I’m supposed to be about it – and I still don’t know what it’s doing to you. Not exactly. But I’ve got to look past all that. Because none of it means he raped Lorne too.’

‘Hang on – what about all the things you found at his house? Her fleece. Her mobile phone.’

‘That was what really got me thinking. He’d gone to a lot of trouble hiding any evidence that you’d been there – there wasn’t a trace of you. So why didn’t he get rid of Lorne’s phone too? The lipstick?’

Zoë shook her head, mystified.

‘I’ll tell you why. It’s simple. He didn’t hide it because he didn’t know it was there …’

‘ What? ’

‘Look. After he got caught up with the accident those bomb-disposal guys had in Basra, the work they had to do to put him back together again was awesome. He spent three months in the Selly Oak military hospital in Birmingham while they stabilized him, then another two months recovering from a cranioplasty. They put a titanium plate in his skull, but it was causing him trouble. On the seventh of May he was having a scan to see what was wrong.’

Zoë frowned. She wasn’t getting it.

‘Lorne was killed while he was in hospital. I’ve checked. I’ve seen the admission records, I’ve spoken to the staff who were on duty. It’s solid, Zoë, solid. Kelvin Burford was in the hospital all of the seventh and on to the eighth. Under sedation. He could not have killed Lorne Wood.’

She sat down abruptly. Her head was buzzing. ‘But…’ she began. ‘But…’

‘I know. It was easy to jump to conclusions.’

Easy to jump to conclusions … At those words something dark and nasty skittered across Zoë’s head. Something that had been waiting there since the day Kelvin had attacked her, something she’d avoided all along. She remembered lying on the bed at Kelvin’s. Remembered saying, ‘Just do it. I want you to.’ All those years ago when Kelvin had watched her from the shadows at the back of the club, she’d known what he’d wanted. And lying on the bed that day, she’d told him he could. If she was totally clear-eyed about it, totally honest and rational, he’d only done what she’d asked him to do. He’d battered her. Brutalized her. But the rest? Was it rape? Technically?

‘No,’ she murmured, almost inaudibly, ‘he killed Lorne. He had to have.’

Ben held her eyes solemnly. ‘I know you think all I do is go around looking for miscarriages of justice. But, Zoë, rapist and all-round shit though Kelvin was, I think he was set up. I’ve got something to show you. Wait there.’

He went into the kitchen. Started opening cupboards. She stared numbly at the open doorway, letting it all filter through her. Kelvin in hospital the night of the rape? Someone else in the frame?

Ben reappeared in the doorway, holding a bundle of papers in a blue plastic wallet. ‘The analysis of Lorne’s phone. And some photos.’

He sat next to her and began to pull out the sheets – page after page of request forms and data-protection forms from the Intelligence Bureau to the phone company. He got to a separate folder. Hesitated. ‘Not nice, this part.’

‘Fuck off, Ben, I’m a police officer too.’

He shrugged and pulled out the photos. Four of them. They showed Lorne splayed out on the ground in the nettles. In the first she was alive, her eyes on the person taking the photo. She was holding out her hand, a universal pleading gesture. Tears ran down the sides of her face and her nose was thick and crusted with blood. In the second picture she was still alive, but the silver gaffer tape holding the ball in her mouth was there, and her expression had changed utterly. In this one she knew she was dying.

‘These were taken on her own phone. He didn’t even bother to hide them. But…’ Ben shuffled the papers ‘… something was hidden on the phone. You’ve heard of data-recovery software? The boys in High Tech use it to find all the kiddie-porn the perverts think they’ve got rid of by hitting Delete . We used it on the phone. Didn’t find much that had been hidden. Except three texts that had been deleted the morning after she died.’

He held out the paper to Zoë, pointed to the places that had been highlighted in pink. She read: Hi L. Good 2 cu 2day. U looked hot. Spk soon

Then, lower down: don’t u fucking bother to acknowledge ur mates any more? I’m not a rapist u know – grin – not going to lay a hand on u. U looked lovely. i think u r lovely i love u. 4 true

And on the last page: This is pain like I never knew you give me pain babe. Don’t ever think it isn’t true

‘These were deleted?’

‘Yes. Nothing exactly incriminating in them, is there? Apart from the fact they were deleted. Which kind of puts a red light over them.’

Zoë couldn’t drag her eyes away from the photo of Lorne looking into the camera. Her expression looked as if she still wasn’t sure whether this was a joke or not. As if she was thinking, He’s not serious. He’s going to stop it and let me go .

‘You think this person – the text person-’

‘He set Kelvin up. Planted the fleece, the phone and the earring at his house. Probably cannot believe his luck that Kelvin’s dead – that he’s not around to deny it all.’

‘Is there a name?’ She shuffled through the pages. ‘He doesn’t sign the texts. Is there a name?’

‘A number – look here.’ He put a finger on a number that had been highlighted in green. ‘But no name. The computer geeks think the address list was copied over – nothing they can do to recover it.’

Zoë pushed the papers aside. She put her hands to her temples, thinking hard. The words Kelvin had said when he found her in his house came back: Don’t think you’ll get away with this again . As if he’d known someone had broken into his house before her. Damn it all to hell, why hadn’t she thought of all this before? Someone else out there? Someone who had done this unspeakable thing to Lorne? And Kelvin just set up? Kelvin just the lout, the one capable of assault and battery, maybe, of doing what he’d done to her, but not capable of killing a teenage girl?

‘OK,’ she said, after a while. ‘We dial it.’

Ben smiled. ‘I love you. Here’s the phone.’

She took it from him, set it to speaker, tapped in *67 to block her phone from registering on caller ID, then dialled the number. She gazed out of the window as the call connected. There was a line of puffy clouds moving across the horizon above Bath. A pigeon sat on the window-ledge, watching her beadily. The phone rang and rang in the silence. They were just starting to expect an answerphone message when the phone clicked and a voice said, ‘Hello?’