What Lies Hidden

by Fran McDonnell

  Isobel took a shallow breath and, heart pounding, crawled across the grass on her elbows to the boundary with Grace’s. When she reached the wall, she paused and listened, her heart in her mouth. She could hear the sound of the spade and laboured breathing. Taking care not to make any noise, she slowly stood up. Isobel wondered if she would be able to get over the wall. Frantically she searched for any damage to the bricks that could act as a foothold. Sweating in fear, she found an indentation. Inserting her toes, she grasped the top of the wall and painfully pulled herself up while pushing with her foot. She managed to straddle the wall and struggled over. As she landed her legs weakened in relief and she nearly fell.

  Shakily, she climbed onto the chair once again and raised her head enough to peer over the wall. As yet, the man had not come out of the gazebo. Ducking down, she took out her phone and set it to record. Time passed. At last the digging stopped. She remained crouched on the chair until she heard a different sound. The sound of something being dragged on the ground. Terrified, she raised her head again. The man had emerged from the gazebo and was dragging the garden bag with, she presumed, the body in it across the garden towards the house. She ducked down again and made sure that she was recording, then raised the lens above the level of the wall, angling the camera to film the man’s journey across the garden to the side of the house.

  Isobel jumped off the chair and stopped the recording. She ran to the back door which Grace flung open.

  Closing the back door, Grace said angrily, “Why did you take that risk? You nearly gave me a heart attack!”

  “Sorry, Grace – I thought he had gone off in the van. But he must have been just moving it. I think he’s about to leave now.”

  “Is Anne’s body there?” Grace demanded.

  Isobel steeled herself.

  “It is,” Grace said. “I can see it in your face.” She put her hand to her mouth, as white as a sheet.

  “I’m sorry.” She paused then, gently holding both of Grace’s arms and looking her in the eyes. “I need to follow the van. It contains the body. Do you have a car?”

  Grace swallowed. “Of course, it’s outside in front.”

  Still holding Grace, Isobel said, “I need to go now, or I might lose him.”

  Grace freed herself and reached for some keys. “I’m coming too.”

  Isobel ran to the car. Grace followed more slowly. At the driver’s door, Isobel turned and put her hand out for the key.

  Grace looked at her. “You must be joking. I’m driving.”

  Isobel looked at her doubtfully. “You won’t drive fast enough.”

  Grace’s lips formed a hard line. “You think with a dead body in the back he’s going to be speeding and drawing attention to himself?”

  “No, probably not. Good point but –”

  Grace sat into the driver seat. Isobel conceded and ran round to the passenger side.

  As Grace started up the car, she said, “And while we’re at it, young’un, just remember only for the fact that I broke my beautiful flower pot you wouldn’t have been able to get out of that gazebo and there might be two bodies in the back of that van.” She straightened her shoulders as she delivered this coup de grace. “You ring the police. Get us some help.”

  Isobel looked at her watch. It was only ten minutes to two. Simon and the others still thought Thomas was coming therefore they would be waiting and wouldn’t take a call.

  There was the sound of an engine starting from next door. In a few moments a white van passed the end of the drive.

  “Give him a minute,” Isobel said.

  Grace tutted. “I know.” Slowly she edged forward and watched the van move down the street. When it was almost out of view Grace pulled out and followed. In the distance they saw the van make a right turn and Grace sped after it. By the time they made the same right turn there were a couple of cars between them and the van.

  Isobel said, “We need to get the registration number of that van.”

  “Right.” Grace’s voice was tense and she kept her gaze on the traffic as she went round a roundabout.

  Ahead Isobel could still see the white van. She jittered in her seat. “We’re going to lose him.”

  Grace flushed, her grip tightening on the steering wheel as she leaned forward.

  Isobel glanced at her. “See if you can get directly behind them for a while.”

  Grace bit her lip. At the next roundabout the car directly in front of them turned left. Now there was only one car in the way.

  Isobel could feel the tension in her neck. “Come on, come on!” she hissed at the car in front. “Turn off, turn off!”

  At the next roundabout they stayed in convoy, then finally at the next junction the car in front took a left turn.

  “Thank God,” Grace said as she caught up with the van. She loosened her grip on the steering wheel. “We were lucky.”

  Isobel pulled up the notes page on her phone and typed in the number: FUB 5456. “Got it.” She grinned across at Grace who risked a small glance at her, then studiously turned her eyes back to the road.

  Isobel dialled 999.

  “What service do you require?” the dispatcher’s calm voice intoned.

  “Police. I’ve just seen a man put a dead body into a van.”

  Before she could explain anything the dispatcher said, “Stay on the line. I’m putting you through to the police station. Stay on the line.”

  Isobel tapped her foot.

  “Hello. Police. What’s the problem?”

  “I saw a man dig up a body and put it in the back of a van.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m in a car following the van. We were in Wimbledon. And now we’re on . . .”

  Isobel hesitated, unsure.

  “I think it’s Norwood Road.” Grace said.

  “I think it’s Norwood Road,” Isobel repeated. “I don’t know where the van is going.”

  “Do you have the registration of the van?”

  Isobel read off the number for him. “The van has just turned onto . . .”

  “Village Way!” Grace called out and Isobel relayed it.

  “Don’t approach the van. I’ll dispatch a car.”

  “How soon can it get here?”

  “It’s going to be ten or fifteen minutes. You need to update us about where you are. Stay calm. We have the registration. Do not approach the vehicle.”

  Isobel wondered where the driver was going. She wasn’t sure how long it was since they’d left the house. “OK. I’ll ring you back if we arrive somewhere.”

  “Wait!”

  She hung up and dialled Malcolm’s number. He answered after only five rings.

  “Hello, Isobel.”

  When she heard his voice over the phone Isobel could feel relief welling up.

  “Malcolm, someone, probably Thomas Banks, dug up the body in Wimbledon. I saw it, got a photo. He put it in a van and is taking it somewhere. Grace and I are following. I’m afraid we’re going to lose him and the body, then what will we do?” She took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

  “Where are you?”

  Isobel was addled. The truth was she didn’t know. “Grace, where are we? Where are we?”

  Grace said, “Dulwich Road, I think.”

  “Dulwich Road, Malcolm. Hold on, I’ll put you on speaker phone. Grace knows the area.”

  “I wonder if he’s heading for the river,” Grace said.

  “Oh God! He’s going to dump the body, Malcolm!

  Malcolm said, “How long until you get to the river?”

  “Maybe ten minutes,” said Grace.

  “That’s all?”

  Grace said firmly, “I would say so.”

  “Shit. That’s not enough time for me to get there. Have you rung the police?”

  “Yes, just now,” said Isobel. “Realistically, are they likely to get here in time?”

  Malcolm paused while he considered the question. “Realistically, probably not.”


  There was silence again and Isobel could almost hear Malcolm thinking.

  Then he said, “Isobel, the most important thing is that you and Grace keep safe.”

  “I know – the policeman I spoke to told me not to approach the man.”

  “Exactly, don’t approach him and don’t let him see you. If you can take note of where he dumps the body do so but only if it’s safe. Maybe we can retrieve the body later. Have you got that, Isobel? Are you clear that your safety is the most important thing?”

  Isobel was nodding.

  “Have you got that, Isobel?” Malcolm repeated.

  “Yes, yes, I can do that.” Even as she said it Isobel knew she was trying to convince herself.

  “I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Isobel, you’re now a witness to the removal of the body. Don’t let anything happen to you.” Malcolm paused. “I’ll contact the police and tell them that you think you are on your way to the river. See you soon. Ring me if anything happens.” He hung up.

  Reality was dawning on Isobel. She set the phone on her lap and rubbed her face with her hands. She took a few deep breaths, gradually trying to calm her panic.

  Grace remained silent, her eyes locked on the white van in front.

  There was something that Isobel knew she needed to do. She once again picked up her phone. She saw the time displayed on the screen. It was only two o’clock. She called Simon. He didn’t answer. She left a voice message.

  “A man has dug up the body in Wimbledon. I will send you a picture of the body. He’s taking it somewhere, maybe the river. Grace and I are following him. The registration number of the van is FUB 5456.” Isobel attached the photo to the text.

  This done, she looked up at the road again. Ahead she saw the van indicate to turn right.

  Grace didn’t put on her indicator. She approached the junction slowly, keeping her distance. She turned the corner, hanging back, giving the van time to forge ahead. As they progressed along the road, keeping the van in view, Isobel could see that this was an industrial area along the river. There were a number of business yards and sheds, each with their own frontage to the water. The van was moving steadily. Traffic was light.

  Suddenly the van stopped. Grace pulled up a long distance back and they watched. The man got out and went towards a big gate. He opened it, ran back to the van and drove in. The van stopped, he hurried to close the gate, got back in and continued out of sight.

  Grace said, “What will I do?”

  Isobel tugged at her lip. “Drive past slowly and we’ll look in. If he sees us, just keep going. If not, drive on a bit and stop.”

  Grace said, “OK,” and moved the car forward slowly. They craned their necks to look in the entrance. The white van was driving between two big warehouses, the river visible beyond them. There were no other signs of activity. The place was deserted. Grace kept moving the car forward slowly. When they had travelled twenty-five metres past the gate, Grace stopped.

  “What do you think?” she asked in a worried voice.

  “I think I need to get out and see if I can get closer. You have to hide the car somewhere, Grace, out of sight. If this is Thomas, then he knows you and he knows your car, so we can’t be seen. But, if possible, I want to get a video of what he’s doing. Those warehouses mean I might be able to stay out of sight.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No, I’m not sure but I must try. Take the car somewhere and hide it and wait for me. When he leaves he mustn’t see you or the car. Don’t dream of getting out of the car. He could be dangerous. I’ll come out about five minutes after him. Are we on the same page?”

  Grace said in a small voice tight with worry, “I understand. I promise. Be careful. If you can’t get a video, you can’t get it.”

  Isobel ensured her phone was on silent. Taking a deep breath and giving Grace’s hand a squeeze, she slipped out of the car, closing the door quietly. She gestured to indicate that Grace should go and hide, then ran back towards the gate.

  The gate was a metal one, very wide but not so high and made up of metal bars. Afraid that opening it would make a noise, Isobel dredged up some old childhood memory and, doing her best to mimic it, climbed the gate and rolled over the top, landing on her feet on the other side.

  Ahead were two corrugated-metal warehouses, side by side, like silver worms. There were cargo doors facing Isobel, but they were closed. The length of the warehouses stretched out towards the water behind. Whatever was stored here, there was plenty of room for it. The space between the warehouses was the width of a road and the white van had made its way as far as the river behind. Isobel ran wide to the left so she could approach the waterfront from the far side of the building.

  Isobel was glad of the daily walks she had been taking on the beach at Ballycastle. At least her breathing was steady and slow and, more important in this case, quiet. Shaking her head to clear it of any distractions, she crept along the side of the warehouse towards the river, being careful not to trip over anything on the ground. As she came within a few feet of the end of the building, she crouched down well below eye level and cautiously peeped out.

  The white van was now stopped fifty feet in front of the building and facing the water. With more luck than judgement she had approached from the direction that meant that the open side-door of the van was facing her. So, she had a good view of what was happening.

  The man was reaching into the interior of the van and was pulling something out.

  Isobel quickly set her phone to video and angled it so that it was recording what was happening.

  The gardening bag loomed in the door and he bumped it down onto the ground. Suddenly he swung around, taking in the area around him. Isobel shrank back, terrified. When she dared to take a quick look again, he was moving in her direction. She scuttled back along the building, turned and got ready to run.

  She waited but he didn’t appear. She stood irresolute. Was he waiting for her to pop her head around the corner again? She remained very still, straining her ears for any sounds, her pulse pounding in her ears, deafening her.

  Every second seemed like an eternity. Still he didn’t appear. She moved forward again. She thought she heard a muttered oath, not anger, more impatience or irritation. She debated with herself. Despite her misgivings, she had no choice but to take another look.

  She crept forward once more and peeked quickly round the corner again.

  She was just in time to see the man who frustratingly she still couldn’t identify because of his hat, placing a medium-size rock in the bag and then trekking back to a pile she’d failed to notice before. He lifted another stone and carried it, depositing it too into the bag. He gave the bag a trial lift and then, setting it back down, retrieved another stone. Once again Isobel used her phone to record his handiwork. After one more test lift, he seemed happy with the weight. Taking the two handles of the gardening bag, he tied them tightly together and dragged his package to the water’s edge. He took a few deep breaths then, grabbing what was still available of the handles he lifted the bag and then heaved it into the water as far out as he could manage. There was the sound of a splash. He stretched his back a little, watching the sinking of the gardening bag. Then he rubbed his gloved hands together. Collecting himself, he broke into a light jog. He returned to the door of the van, reaching in to grab something which he then held against his body, then ran up the roadway between the two warehouses.

  Isobel, almost mesmerized, recorded all of this until he disappeared from her sight. She made her own way back along the side of the warehouse. By the time she got to the end the man was clear of the buildings and was at the gate. He didn’t open it – instead he reached up with his arms and swung his body clear of the gate, landing on the outside.

  Once on the road he turned right and headed back along the road they’d driven into this commercial area. Only when he disappeared from view did Isobel exhale. She could feel her legs shaking from the adrenaline and she sagged against
the wall of the warehouse that had given her cover.

  A minute passed before she could rouse herself to any activity. The first thing she did was stop the video recording. Then, realising that action was needed, she rang Malcolm.

  “Malcolm, he’s just thrown the bag in the river and left on foot. I still don’t know who he is, with that hat on.” Isobel could feel her voice shake with strain and upset.

  “Where are you, Isobel? Describe your location.”

  Isobel did her best, saying it was Deptford and describing the right turn they had made and the two warehouses.

  “I’m on my way. Do your best to remember where he was when he jettisoned the bag so we can tell the harbour police.”

  Isobel cringed, realising how important this probably was. She made her way back along the length of the warehouse. Reaching the river, she visualised again what had happened and, keeping her eyes fixed where he had stood, made her way forward. She laid her phone down on the ground where the man had stood to dump the bag. Looking round, she spied the pile of stones and went and fetched a large one, placing it where her phone was, to mark the spot. She knew that was the best she could do. She picked up her phone and left. Shivering in reaction, she walked back to the gate.

  She stood on a low bar of the gate and cautiously leaned over. She scanned the road but there was no sight of the man. Climbing over the gate, she began to walk up the road to find Grace.

  Then Grace’s head popped up from behind a wall further down. So, she had got out of the car after all. Grace waved and then disappeared.

  Isobel kept walking and in a few minutes Grace pulled up in the car beside her.

  “I told you not to get out of the car,” Isobel said.

  Grace ignored her. “What happened?” she asked.

  “He threw it in the river.”

  “Did you record it?”

  “I did,” Isobel said and, despite how fearful she’d felt, or maybe because of it, she straightened her shoulders with pride.

  She got into the car and they drove along to the gate and parked.

  “We’d need to keep watch and take off quickly if we spot the guy again. He could come back, after all – though Idoubt it,” Isobel said.