Chapter 51
Chapter 51
She was like an island in the midst of a swirling storm, the still centre amidst the frenetic activity around her. Lorraine Marwood sat mute on the sofa, staring blankly at an untouched cup of tea. She had resisted all attempts to move her, to seek sanctuary with a friend or relative, instead cleaving close to the family home, as if abandoning it would somehow be tantamount to abandoning Ryan. Helen didn’t pretend to understand her emotions – there were no photos of Ryan in the house, suggesting she felt some shame about his appalling crimes – and yet it was hard not to feel sorry for the woman who’d loved too much and been repaid with betrayal, misery and now death.
To her surprise, Lorraine Marwood now looked up, her eyes seeking out the detective inspector. There was deep sadness in her expression, aching grief too, but was there something else there too? An accusation? So far, Lorraine had only been given the bare details, that her son had resisted arrest, been involved in a chase and fallen to his death, with no concrete information about how it had happened or who was involved. So why did her gaze seek out Helen specifically? Was it to locate her son’s killer and shame her? To lay the blame at her door for his untimely death?
Nodding curtly at her, Helen took her leave, stepping out into the hallway. There was nothing Lorraine Marwood could do that would make Helen feel any worse. Ryan had been a deeply troubled individual, who had brought most of the misery he’d endured upon himself, but the death of any young man was always deeply upsetting, especially when played out in such a catastrophic and destructive way. Helen felt this all the more keenly as Ryan’s terrible end had robbed her of the chance to question him, to get to the bottom of his recent offending, to find out if he was truly responsible for Naomi’s disappearance. All the evidence pointed in that direction, but how could Helen know, how could she be sure, without looking him in the eye?
Climbing the stairs, Helen felt her frustration mounting. Part of her wanted to be wrong, wanted Naomi’s real abductor to be still at large, so she could capture him, wringing the missing girl’s location from him in fierce interrogation. But another part of her wanted Marwood confirmed as her captor, taking a dangerous offender off the streets and perhaps ultimately leading to Naomi’s rescue, if they could track his recent movements. But in her heart of hearts, Helen feared an unsatisfactory middle ground, all the circumstantial evidence pointing towards Marwood’s guilt, with no actual evidence of his crime, nor any clear lead to Naomi’s whereabouts. In these circumstances, Marwood’s death and the potential closing of the investigation would prove a pyrrhic victory.
Helen climbed higher, her mood descending with each step, but as she mounted the upstairs landing, a cry suddenly rang out.
‘Here!’
Immediately, Helen was on the move, hurrying into Ryan’s bedroom to find a suited forensics officer standing by the dead man’s bed, a triumphant smile on his face. The room had already been turned upside down, the cramped space packed with bodies, but the anonymous figure by the bed now held out his hand.
‘Found it hidden in his pillow,’ he murmured, his tone respectful, despite his excitement.
Stepping forward, Helen’s heart skipped a beat as she saw the yellow metal glinting up at her. Nestled in her colleague’s hand was a gold necklace with a pendant attached that spelled out the name NAOMI. The same necklace Naomi Watson had been wearing the night that she was abducted.