Rydell glanced at Sally. “Before I tell you where your daughter is” – he turned to her husband – “maybe you can tell me where my sister is.”
Chapter Sixty-two
Gareth Summerby wept openly. Gardener sensed it was the moment he had needed for most of his life. His explanation would be the real cleansing of his soul. Pity it had taken such evasive action.
He then did something totally unexpected, as far as Gardener was concerned. He lowered the gun and stood it to one side, although still close enough should he need it.
“I’m so sorry,” said Summerby.
“Gareth?” called Sally. “Is he telling the truth? Did you really have something to do with the disappearance of his sister?”
He brought his hands to his face, as if to hide his shame. “It all got out of hand. I never meant for anything to happen.”
“So, what did?” demanded Rydell. He’d slid from the chair to his knees, clearly in pain.
“It was a joyride, a prank that went wrong,” said Summerby. “I was a teenager–”
Sally cut him off. “Being a teenager was no excuse for what you’ve done.”
“Hear me out, Sal, please.”
She was about to have another go when Gardener raised his hand and stopped her.
Summerby continued, gripping the chair in front of him for support, tears still freely running down his face.
“I’d stolen the car from the ASDA car park in Pudsey, me and Mickey Cross. The store was open late for Christmas shopping. I was well known by local gangs, but I had no record. I’d never been caught.
“We’d been drinking when we pulled into the filling station. We filled up the tank but never really had any intention of paying… till I noticed no one about inside. Mickey wanted fags, and I thought I’d empty the cash register. There wasn’t much, probably only the float, but it would do – especially as we had cigs and a full tank of petrol.”
Gardener glanced at Rydell, hoping he would make it to the end of the confession. The man needed a hospital, and fast. He decided to risk asking, “Mr Summerby? Can I have my phone? This man is seriously ill.”
“No,” he replied. “He wanted the story, and he can damn well hear it. He can hear my confession.”
“We’d rather have it on tape,” said Reilly.
“Not going to happen. This is your only chance.”
Rydell nodded to Gardener: let the man continue.
“I was suddenly bathed in light. Made me jump. I had no idea what had caused it. A little girl had appeared from nowhere, taken a photo.”
He brought his hands to his face again. “Christ, if I could turn back time–”
“You can’t,” shouted Rydell. “Never mind all that now, I want to know what you did.”
“So do I,” said Sally, clearly disgusted.
“Go on,” shouted Rydell. “What did you do?”
“I grabbed her and folded her in my arms. Keeping her trussed up with one hand around her mouth, I quickly bundled her and the camera into the car. Took off as fast as we could.
“There was a lot of arguing going on with Mickey. The girl wasn’t part of the plan. He was shitting himself. So was I. You have to understand, it wasn’t planned.”
“I don’t care,” shouted Rydell, trying to raise himself to his feet, using the chair as a crutch. “Now get on with it, or so help your God, my God, and every other fucker’s God, I will kill you.”
“Not before I do,” said Sally Summerby. “If I don’t get my daughter back, there isn’t a prison in this land that will keep you safe.”
Summerby continued, as asked. “We kept driving, really fast, panicking about what we were going to do with our passenger.”