by Wes Markin
‘You know. We come over to Salisbury to see our people. The first time, mind, he’s ever seen his people. And do you know what he says to them all?’
Sheila looked back up and shook her head. Frank gripped tighter.
‘Not a thing! It don’t matter how much I egg him on, he just refuses. You know, I’m going out of my mind. Continues like this, I’m going to have to give him a whupping.’
Sheila’s eyes widened.
‘Gee - sorry! Don’t look so torn up, I was just joking. He’s my ragdoll. I wouldn’t harm a hair on his head, even if he does put me through hell.’
She reached over and touched Frank on the shoulder. ‘What’s your name little one?’
Frank jerked away. Sheila supported him by taking a step back. Something felt very wrong here.
Millie’s smile dropped away and her hands fell to Tobias’s shoulders. He was staring up at Sheila and Frank. He was not smiling. In fact, his face looked rather barren. As if he wasn’t really connected with the situation evolving around him. Poor boy.
‘Y’all not as friendly here as back home. Is this how you always treat outsiders?’ Millie said.
‘I’m not sure what you mean,’ Sheila took another step back, ‘but we really have to go.’
‘Back to your husband?’
‘Yes …’
‘What’s his name?’
‘I’m sorry, but we’ve really got to go.’ Sheila turned to walk away and didn’t look back.
Yorke sat alone in the incident room, staring at a blood-stained souvenir from the last case involving the Ray family.
It was a photograph that had been recovered from the corpse of Thomas Ray after his son Lewis had murdered him. The vicious killer had pinned it to his father’s leg.
Yorke wasn’t sure there were any answers in this photograph, but his memory needed refreshing and signing it out from the evidence room hadn’t cost him much in the way of time.
The photograph had been taken in 1944 at the Ray Pig Farm, eighty years before Paul Ray would arrive to burn it to the ground and get himself kidnapped for a second time. Dotted on and around a fence were that era’s crop of Rays.
He looked first at a young boy and girl dangling a small child by his legs. The small child had been Thomas Ray. The young boy holding him was Ritchie Ray, father of Lacey Ray, and Paul’s grandfather. Ritchie spent a lot of his youth institutionalised after being suspected of murdering his sister – the girl holding Thomas’s other leg.
Yorke sighed. Ritchie and Thomas. Chunks of badness in a very bad family.
He moved onto the next chunk. Andrew Ray, Thomas’s father. A heavy-set man with a nasal bone that had been broken so many times, it lay flat against his face and snaked in all different directions. Chunks of badness didn’t get any worse than Andrew. A man who’d become so obsessed with the existence of aliens that he’d established a depraved cult and started recruiting from the local area.
‘Pray for the Rays,’ Yorke said.
That was the phrase which many local people used as Andrew’s cult marched, riotously, through town, vandalising local churches who refused to support them in their misguided beliefs.
On the photograph, Gladys Ray, Reginald’s widow, stood alongside the family. She had a distant look in her eyes as if she were remembering happier times gone past. A time prior to 1918 perhaps. The year that she discovered her beloved Reginald was a serial killer who’d been feeding the local children to them in their Sunday lunch.
Gladys and Reginald’s daughter, Dorothy, was also on the photograph. She’d died not long after this photograph was taken during the great influenza epidemic.
Yorke took a deep breath. There was a grainy image of someone in the pig pen in the background. He couldn’t remember noticing that during the last investigation. He went down the corridor and borrowed a magnifying glass from Wendy, a Management Support Assistant. She gave him a stare over the rim of her glasses. ‘Pleased to have you back, sir.’
‘You don’t look pleased!’ Yorke smiled.
‘I am, really. It’s just when you’re here the workload tends to increase.’
Yorke gestured over at her tea station and winked. ‘Just giving you something to do - I noticed that you’d worked your way through that monster pack of teabags I gave you before I went on leave.’
‘Behave, sir!’ She broke her pretence and smiled.
‘I’ll be back later with this.’ He left, holding up the magnifying glass.
‘No, you won’t,’ she called after him. ‘You’ll leave it lying around and I’ll have to come and find it!’
Back in the incident room, Yorke used the magnifying glass on the grainy image. It was of a young girl cleaning up in the pig pen.
Now who is that?
They’d been through the process of tracing the whole family tree during the last investigation; and, as far as Yorke knew, there were no other relatives at this point.
Yorke estimated from the poor image that this girl was between ten and thirteen-years-old. Maybe she just worked there? A farmhand?
He’d touch base with Gardner about it on the way home, and get it flagged up at briefing tomorrow.
PC Collette Willows appeared at the door. He liked Willows because she always looked so eager. Whenever he was flagging, he always felt a burst of motivation in her presence.
‘Sir, you are not going to believe this!’
‘I probably will, Collette. I am getting to that stage of my career where nothing much surprises me. I take it you got it then?’
‘Yes, wasn’t hard to dig up the old crime reports on the Reginald Ray murders. After all, he did terrorise Devizes.’
Yorke took the brown folder off her. ‘Bedtime reading.’
‘Bloody hell, sir. Could you sleep after reading through that?’
‘I’ll let you know tomorrow morning.’
‘You probably know it all already, I guess.’
‘Most of it, yes, but a refresher course for tomorrow’s briefing wouldn’t go amiss. So, go on, Collette, what won’t I believe?’
‘Open it up and look at the photograph of Reginald.’
Yorke did just that. He then looked up at Willows. ‘I stand corrected, Collette. You were right. I don’t believe it.’
Jake was in Caroline’s bathroom, freshening himself up before the journey home. He stared at himself in the mirror and saw the lies on his face. They were practically carved in. How would others not notice them too?
These days, whenever Sheila looked at him, he avoided her eyes. It was probably the most obvious sign that something was wrong. Despite knowing this, he couldn’t help himself. How many times could he make up reasons for looking away?
I’ve had a dreadful day … my head is pounding and I’m just going to lie down.
He didn’t have a whole lot of choices in this situation. If he properly engaged with her, he’d trip himself up or she’d see through his bullshit. But, if he continued to avoid her, she’d soon put two and two together …
Jake ran his hand over his shaved head and thought, there is only one choice, just end this sodding affair.
His phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and saw that the number was withheld.
‘Hello?’ Jake said.
Nothing.
‘Hello?’
Still nothing. He was about to hang up when—
‘Guess who?’
Jake steadied himself against the sink. No, no …
‘Guessed yet?’
Jake took a sharp inhalation through his nose. Not again…
‘Anyone would think you didn’t want to talk to me, Jakey—’
‘Talk to you?’ He hissed his answer. ‘Last time I talked to you, Lacey, you had me handcuffed me to a chair, and threatened to cut pieces off.’
‘Jesus, Jakey, you are so sensitive. Yes, I was pissed off, but I thought we’d moved on from that. I seem to remember a rather intimate moment. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?’
‘You
kissed me while I was chained up. Nothing intimate about that.’
‘Wasn’t it just yummy?’
‘Not really.’
She sighed. ‘Do I really repulse you that much, lover?’
‘What do you want?’ He really wanted to shout but bringing Caroline running in wouldn’t help matters.
‘To put all of this behind us. We were close once, a long time ago. We can be close again.’
‘We were close before I knew you were a sociopath. Before you started killing people.’
Lacey laughed.
‘What?’
‘Well … how can you be so sure you came before?’
Jake groaned. ‘Tell me what you want, Lacey.’
‘I wanted to talk to you, first and foremost, about being a bad boy.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Where are you now Jakey?’
‘Home.’
‘Liar.’
‘Why would I lie?’
‘Well, you’re lying to your wife and child, so why wouldn’t you lie to me?’
Jake put his forehead to the mirror. She knows. Fuck. She knows.
‘I’m assuming by the sudden silence that I have your attention?’
‘You always have my attention, Lacey. You seem to be very skilled at that.’
‘Nice of you to say so. So now, the million-dollar question … do you love your wife, Jake?’
Jake tapped his forehead on the glass. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to wake him up should he be lucky enough to be asleep. ‘I really don’t want to have this conversation.’
‘I’ll take that as a no then. To be fair, I’d struggle to love anyone wearing those faux leather trousers! Mind you, I struggle to love full stop. Saying all that though, I did like the leopard skin cardigan.’
Jake felt the blood rush to his temples.
‘She dotes on your little boy. I like that in a mother.’
Jake felt his throat closing in.
‘You scored yourself a right yummy mummy there, Jake. No question.’
‘You stay the fuck—’
‘Careful, Jake. You know how I respond to aggression. Especially from wannabe alpha males like your good self. It’s always been my weakness.’
Jake closed his eyes and rolled his forehead over the glass.
‘Listen, Jake, I could help you out here. After all, Sheila is a burden now, isn’t she? I can make her go away. Both go away if you—’
‘Where are they?’ Jake had given up trying to keep his voice down now.
‘We’re all in the park together.’
Everything started to spin. Jake closed his eyes. ‘Please …’
‘Quit it, Jake. You don’t have to beg. I’ve always been very accommodating with you.’
There was a knock at the bathroom door. ‘Are you okay in there?’ Caroline said.
‘Yes,’ Jake said, covering the mic on the phone. ‘Just on the phone to work.’
‘Okay, cup of tea?’
‘Yes, please.’
He waited a few seconds and then put the phone back to his ear. ‘Which park?’
Lacey said, ‘Ah, isn’t Caroline sweet? She’s worried about you.’
‘Which park?’
Lacey told him. ‘And all four of us are having a great time.’
‘Four?’
‘Oh, sorry, didn’t you know? I’m a mummy now.’
‘What? … How?’
Lacey laughed. ‘Come on now, Jake. I’m sure I don’t have to explain all that to you! You’ve got me blushing now.’
‘Whatever … I don’t care, just don’t hurt Frank and Sheila.’ He paused, suddenly remembering something. ‘I don’t understand though … Sheila knows you. You threatened her before. Why would she talk with you?’
‘She didn’t recognise me. She’s only met Millie from South Carolina.’ She turned on a South American drawl. ‘Anyway, you can stop worrying. She’s left. I think she found me a little intimidating.’
It was music to Jake’s ears. He sighed. ‘Thank God … Lacey, what do you want from me?’
‘Would you believe me if I said I wanted you to come and meet my son, Tobias?’
‘No, I wouldn’t believe that.’
‘Well, you best had, because I do. I need your help.’
Jake shook his head. ‘After everything you’ve done to me, you want my help?’
‘Yes.’
‘And if I told you to fuck off?’
‘Do you really want the answer to that question?’
Jake didn’t have to think about it for very long. ‘No.’
‘Come and meet me in the park now. There are three benches, see if you can work out which mummy I am.’
‘Out in the open? Not like you. Last time, you dragged me to a secluded workshop. Are you mellowing in motherhood?’
‘I wish that was the case, Jakey boy. If anything, it’s going the other way of late. Come and find me. If you bring your colleagues with you, I’ll use my one phone call from jail to contact Sheila and tell her all about Caroline.’
Jake gritted his teeth.
‘It’s a gamble on my part, Jake, because you may do the right thing. You could arrest me and then go and tell Sheila the truth anyway. But I’ve met Sheila. She’s feisty. I love a gamble, and I bet you can’t cope with Sheila knowing the truth. I suspect she’ll do even worse things to you than I would …’
He wasn’t sure how to respond.
‘See you soon, Jakey. Give my love to Caroline.’
The phone went dead.
Jake had a decision to make, but first he had to throw up in the toilet.
As Yorke drove home, his eyes kept wandering over to the brown folder on his passenger seat.
The photograph of Reginald Ray, taken in 1916 when he was sixty, had him spooked. He was the spitting image of prime suspect Robert Bennett, right down to the red patches on his face.
But, despite being unnerved, Yorke wouldn’t succumb to any wild theories. The explanation was obvious. He’d discussed it already with Gardner on the phone, and it would be unleashed on the team in tomorrow’s briefing.
Robert had to be a direct descendent of Reginald.
Just like Lewis, Thomas Ray’s son, had tumbled from the family tree so, too, had Robert. The next step, tomorrow, would be to find out where and when that tumble had occurred.
CROWN had earlier confirmed that they had enough evidence to move to trial, especially if the test results came through in the morning indicating that Robert’s DNA was on the water bottle Yorke had found in the tree behind the Mitchell farm. However, one thing was still really bothering Yorke about Robert’s involvement.
Earlier, he’d spent time looking at Google Maps. Then, he’d also made an awkward phone call to Samuel’s auntie. Finally, he went back to the Mitchell farm to trace Robert’s supposed route from the front of the farm to the back of it.
The timeline suggested that the following occurred in only five minutes: Robert reported his made-up Grandson missing, walked out of the farm to the carpark and was caught on CCTV, drove around to the back of the farm, walked through the trees and across the fields to the back of the maze, and abducted Samuel.
Yorke’s research showed that it would take fifteen minutes in total.
There was no way Samuel would have taken fifteen minutes to reach the perimeter of a maze he probably knew like the back of his hand. In the same way that it was highly unlikely that he would have lingered there for thirteen or so minutes on the off chance a missing kid might just materialise. No. Samuel must have been abducted within five minutes. Robert could not have made that journey in such a short space of time.
Yorke chewed his bottom lip. What if Robert wasn’t working alone?
The DNA result tomorrow may just confirm this. Everyone was expecting it to be Robert’s, but what if it wasn’t? Who would be the second kidnapper? Would the DNA sample throw up a match in their database?
And then there was the dairy farmer, Bryce Sing
les, in his tractor, to consider. He’d seen Robert overtaking him, and then had been subjected to a mouthful of abuse from their number one suspect. So, if Robert wasn’t alone, where had the second kidnapper been hiding? The one who’d actually grabbed Samuel from the perimeter and dragged him across the field and woodland?
Had this second kidnapper been in a second car which followed later? Or, had he been lying low on Robert’s backseat, with poor Samuel potentially stuffed in the boot?
His phone went. It was Gardner.
‘Ma’am?’
‘As you suspected, Mike. The owner of the property, Peter McCall, is dead. I went back after speaking to Samuel’s parents. They’ve just been scooping his body parts out of the septic tank around the back. SOCO have got one hell of a night ahead of them.’
They discussed this horrendous turn of events for a couple of minutes, before Yorke unleashed his theory surrounding the timeline.
Gardner sighed. It spoke volumes. She agreed with him.
‘And I thought we were about to put this case to bed,’ Gardner said.
‘No, you didn’t, Emma. If you’d had thought that, why would you have gone back to the crime scene?’
Gardner sighed a second time. ‘I guess you’re right.’
‘I’d go home and get an early night. It was such a shame that there were no fingerprints recovered from the bottle, as that would have thrown up a faster result. But we’ll get the DNA results on it first thing, and then I suspect it’ll be all go again.’
‘Yes.’ She sounded tearful.
‘Are you okay Emma?’
‘Yes … kind of. Telling Samuel’s parents was one of the worst experiences of my life. They knew as soon as they saw us at the door. I’ve seen anguish before, but I’ve never seen anything like this. Ryan was down on his knees and Holly just screamed and screamed. It took all three of us, Mark, me and Bryan, to calm them down.’
Bryan was the Family Liaison Officer, there to support them through this experience and discover more information about the victim.
‘Has Bryan called in some extra support for this evening?’ Yorke said.
‘Yes.’
It was Yorke’s turn to sigh. ‘I respect you for doing that yourself, Emma. It’s never been the job’s most glamourous responsibility. Many would have passed it on. It’s bloody hard enough when they lose someone in an accident but when it’s murder, it brings a new level of anxiety. The ambiguity, the lack of closure … the sodding senselessness … it can cause extreme reactions. I’ve been there, Emma. You need to go home, be with your family, and get some rest.’