‘What is it?’
‘Calvin’s phone. The PIN is his birthday: 1906. Not very original. Sebastian brought it back with him from the ski village. There are over three hundred video clips downloaded and saved. Prison didn’t change him at all.’
Christian took the phone from her. She went back to her armchair and slumped into it. ‘I didn’t think Sebastian would be able to keep it a secret, bless him. Have you arrested him? Will I be able to see him?’
Scott and Christian exchanged glances.
‘Sheila,’ Christian began, sitting forward. ‘We were called out to Sebastian’s flat this afternoon. I’m afraid he took his own life. He left you a note.’
Sheila swallowed hard and nodded her head. ‘I thought he would have done. I wondered why he didn’t come around last night. I was going to go around this morning, but … I didn’t want to find him.’ She looked at Christian. ‘A mother always knows.’
Chapter 48
‘South Yorkshire Police. How may I help you?
‘I’ve just seen someone being pushed off Heeley Bridge.’
‘Ok. Are you at the bridge now?’
‘No. I was in my car when I saw it happen. I pulled over and got out to look, but the river is flowing really fast. I couldn’t see anyone. I’m back at my car now. The rain is coming down heavy.’
‘The person who was pushed over the bridge, was it a man, woman or child?’
‘I don’t know. It all happened so fast.’
‘Did you see the person who did the pushing?’
‘No. They were wearing black and had a hood up. Whoever it was was slim and fast as they ran like lightning.’
‘What direction did they run in?’
‘They ran back down the road as if towards Ponsfords.’
‘Ok, sir, can you stay with your car? I’ve despatched a team to come out to you.’
***
PCs Natasha Tranter and Gemma August drove through the busy streets of Sheffield at maximum speed. Sirens were blaring and windscreen wipers tried in vain to give them a clear view of the road and dangers ahead. Natasha, though she didn’t admit it to her colleague, was nervous in the front passenger seat. Gemma lived for these conditions.
‘My husband bought me a day out in Silverstone for my birthday a couple of years ago,’ Gemma shouted over the sound of the engine and torrential rain. She didn’t take her eyes off the windscreen as one hand was on the wheel and the other on the gear stick. ‘It was absolutely pissing it down and I went round that track like Lewis Hamilton on steroids. Loved it.’
‘What did your Shane think?’ Natasha shouted back.
‘He was fine until I aquaplaned, and he pissed himself,’ she laughed. ‘Best birthday ever.’
‘You’re a strange woman, Gemma.’
‘Enjoy every day,’ she grinned. ‘We could all be dead tomorrow.’
‘We could be dead in the next five minutes if you don’t slow down.’
‘Have a little faith.’
Cars pulled over on Chesterfield Road and Gemma slammed her foot down on the accelerator and entered the third of four lanes. Halfords, the car wash, and Boots opticians went by in a blur. She drove through a red light and Natasha pointed out the blue Ford Focus with its hazard lights flashing up ahead.
‘That’s the guy who called,’ she said.
Gemma pulled up just in front of him and they both climbed out, putting their hats on to give them a modicum of shelter from the rain.
‘I’m driving back,’ Natasha said as she locked the car.
‘Fine by me. We’ll be sticking to the speed limit. Where’s the fun in that?’
‘Mr Lomax?’ Natasha said to the man climbing out of his car. He was tall and thin and wearing a waterproof coat two sizes too big for him.
‘That’s me,’ he shouted over the sound of the downpour.
‘You say someone was pushed into the River Sheaf?’
‘Yes. It was …’
‘Would you like to tell my colleague, here, while I go and have a look?’ Natasha said. She headed off in the direction of the bridge. Gripping the railings, she looked over the side and into the dangerous waters of the river below. It was almost up to bridge level. If the rain continued, it wouldn’t be long before it was spilling out over the road. If someone had been thrown into the river, they would have been swept away by now.
Natasha turned on the torch attached to her uniform and leaned further over the bridge. There was nobody there, but she hadn’t expected them to be. The dirty water crashed on the rough banks.
She turned her back on the railings and looked around her to see if there were any signs of CCTV on the nearby buildings. She couldn’t see any.
Gemma joined her. ‘Mr Lomax has got a dashcam. He played back the footage. It’s only a few seconds but there’s no mistaking.’
‘Shit. There’s nobody in the water. They could be miles away by now,’ she shouted.
‘Where does the Sheaf lead to?’
‘I’ve no idea. The River Don probably.’
‘We need to get a search team out here.’
‘There’s no way they’re going to be able to look for her in this weather. I doubt even a helicopter will get up in this.’
‘I’ll call the Sarge. Let him make the decision.’
Gemma stepped to one side and spoke loudly into her radio while Natasha crossed the road, playing chicken with the traffic, to look over the bridge on the other side. The river was furious as it flowed. She blinked hard against the raindrops hitting her in the face, but she couldn’t see anybody clinging to life or floating face down in the water.
As she turned back, a bus passed, its headlights on full beam. They bounced against something shiny on the side of the road in front of the railings where whoever had been pushed over. Risking her life against the traffic once again, Natasha ran across the road. Among the weeds and detritus at the edge of the pavement in front of the bridge, she saw a handbag with a buckle that had caught the buses headlights. She picked it up, opened it, and rummaged around inside.
‘Fuck me,’ she said to herself. ‘Gemma!’ she called out.
‘What is it?’ She asked back.
‘Tell the Sarge to get a team out here right now.’
‘Why?’
She held up the warrant card. ‘It’s DC Ellen Devonport.’
Chapter 49
Sheila Croft had calmly gone with Christian and Scott to South Yorkshire Police HQ. She was placed in a holding cell while Scott and Christian went into the changing rooms to dry off.
‘Poor woman,’ Scott said as he slumped down on the bench. He kicked off his shoes and struggled to take off his sodden socks. ‘Some people seem to get all the bad luck, don’t they?’
‘It would appear so,’ Christian said, peeling off his shirt.
‘So, do we think Calvin killed Keeley or not?’
‘I don’t think so. She hadn’t been raped and the sexual assault was old. He’d have to have had contact with her on several occasions going back months. I don’t see how he could have done it.’
‘So, we’re back to square one with no suspects.’