“He didn’t say who that was?” asked Budgie eagerly.
“No, unfortunately. Nicholas told him he was going to get back to him, but he never made the call. And we know why.”
“So, whoever it was sussed him out and got to him first.”
“Looks like that.”
Hunter penned a time and date on the board. It was the start of the timeline. He turned back to his team. “That call to the DS was at two-eighteen p.m.” He wrote another time and date. “And we found the cottage Nicholas was renting empty, with the bloodstain by the front door, at just after ten-thirty-five a.m. two days ago. So that’s roughly a twenty-hour window, where there’s no sighting or contact with Nicholas.”
Hunter quickly studied the faces of his team. He could see concentration etched on all of them. “In terms of the injuries, what we do know, from the doctor’s examination, is that he had numerous head injuries, and a variety of fractures to both arms and legs. The doctor believes that the fractures to the arms and legs were caused post mortem, when he went over the cliff. The head injuries, though, are pre-mortem. The whole left-hand side of his skull has been caved in. The doc says that although he’s no expert, his guess would be that the injuries were caused by a hammer or something similar. That sort of attack would certainly fit in with the scene at the cottage.”
Hunter let his words sink in. “But we aren’t going to know anything for definite without a post mortem and forensic examination of the cottage, and from the latest weather update, we know that could well be a couple of days from now. Until then, we have work to do.” Pausing once more, he continued, “First task is house-to-house enquiries around Nicholas’s cottage. I know that there was some initial house-to-house, but not many people were around. Was that followed up?”
One of the Constables half-raised his hand. Hunter thought his name was Trevor. He had been with him when they had gone to Nicholas’s cottage. He pointed to him to speak.
“Me and George did that.” The slim, faired-haired, clean-shaven cop gave a quick sideways glance to his colleague beside him, who was in complete contrast — burly, with thick dark hair and a beard. The officer continued. “When we first did our door-knocking, only Margaret Hotton, in the opposite end house, was in, and she told us she had seen Nicholas a few times, twice going down to the bay, and once coming back from the shops, laden up with food bags, but it was from her window and so she hadn’t spoken with him. When we told her about the blood we’d found, she was really surprised, but said she hadn’t heard any sound of a fight, or anything like that. Next door to Margaret is Ben and Gayle. They own the café on The Avenue. They’re out at work most of the day and so hadn’t seen or spoken with Nicholas. The same goes for Sylvia, who lives in the middle cottage. She works in the charity shop on The Avenue, and so she hadn’t seen or spoken with him. The cottage next to Sylvia’s is a rental one and that’s currently occupied by a retired teacher, who’s taken it on an extended rent. She told us she’d said ‘hello’ to Nicholas a couple of times and that he’d told her he’d come for the festival. That was it. We told her about the bloodstain and asked if she’d heard anything, and she said she’s slightly deaf, and so she has to have the TV turned up, so she hadn’t heard anything.”
Hunter thanked them, realising that the last woman they were talking about was the retired teacher he had met on Dixcart Bay, when Jonathan and Daniel had done their disappearing act. Hazel something? He recalled how she had told him she was renting a cottage in the woods. He asked, “Anything else, anyone?”
He was met with a shake of heads all round.
“Okay, disappointing, but not surprising given that we now know who he was and what he was doing here. He’d have deliberately kept a low profile to avoid attracting attention.” Gathering his thoughts, Hunter tapped the marker pen on the board. Seconds later, he said, “We’ve heard that he’s used the shops, so let’s visit The Avenue and see if we can get anything there. Finally, I know from Budgie that all of you know just about everyone who lives on this island, except the tourists, and I also know that this is such a rare event that it will be the talk of everyone, but I’ve a big favour to ask.” He scoured the officers’ faces, holding each of them with his gaze for a second. “As tempting as it is to discuss this, I’d like to keep the fact that Nicholas Strachan was an undercover cop in this room for now. If it got out, it could complicate our enquiry. By all means chat about the murder, but just keep it to yourselves regarding his identity. Is that understood?”
Hunter received a round of nods.
“Thank you, everyone. And the last thing I want to do today is give you all the task of trying to find out the names of all the tourists who are here. I know that’s a mammoth task, especially with it being the Festival of Light, but you know the hotel managers, B&B owners and those who rent out cottages just about as well as your own family, so I’m sure you can deliver. More importantly, could you ask them if they’re suspicious of anyone? If they are, ring me or Budgie straight away with the names so we can check them out.” Putting down the marker pen, Hunter said, “We meet here at eight a.m. tomorrow morning, unless anything else happens, and then Budgie will contact you. Good hunting, everyone.”
CHAPTER FORTY
Football tucked beneath his arm, Jonathan stood in the doorway of the bedroom he was sharing with his brother at Grandad Ray’s and Nannan Sandra’s home. Daniel was on the bottom bunk, playing with his Marvel characters. Captain America was in one hand and The Incredible Hulk in the other. Daniel was making whooshing noises while acting out a fight scenario between the two figures. The TV on the wall was on low, and Jonathan saw that the Marvel Avengers Assemble animated TV series was playing. He watched it for a few seconds, recalling the time when that was all he watched, but he considered himself too old for that now. Superheroes were kid’s stuff now that he was about to go up to comprehensive school.
“What you doing?” Jonathan asked.
Daniel stopped Captain America in mid-flight and half-turned. “Playing Avengers.”
Jonathan removed the ball from beneath his arm and threw it up to head height, catching it in both hands. “Fancy playing footie?”
“It’s too cold.”
“No, it’s not.”
“’Tis.”
“Come on, don’t be a wuss.”
“No, it’s wet and too cold.”
“I’ll go in goal if you don’t want to dive.”
“No, I’m watching this and playing Avengers.”
Jonathan huffed. “Baby,” he mumbled and stomped back downstairs.
In the garden Jonathan played ‘keepie-uppie’, juggling the ball to chest height with his feet and knees without letting it fall onto the grass. After a couple of false starts, he was now up to seventy-eight taps. His record was a hundred-and-twenty-three, and he wanted to break it this holiday.
The sound of branches crunching followed by movement flashing into the top of his vision interrupted his concentration, and the ball bounced awkwardly off his toe-end towards the bank of trees at the bottom of the garden. “Shit,” he cursed and glanced around quickly to make sure his grandparents weren’t around. He looked at the ball with an edge of frustration and then into the copse where the fleeting action had caused him to make his error.
The sight of a thick shadow among the bushes caused him to start, the breath catching in his throat, and he took a step back. He felt his heart jolt as the shadow came into the light. Then he relaxed when he saw who it was, a friendly smile lighting up their face.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“Is Jonathan there?”
Beth took the call from Sandra, trapping her mobile between ear and shoulder. She was folding a T-shirt of Hunter’s, one of the many items she’d had to wash because of smoke damage from the fire.
“Well, he went into the garden half an hour ago to play football, and when we’ve just gone out to call him, he’s not there. His football’s there, but not him. Daniel’s playing up in his bedroom, but
there’s no sign of Jonathan, and I was just wondering if he’d come over to your new place?”
Beth felt her stomach empty. She stopped folding Hunter’s T-shirt and grabbed her phone, fixing it tightly to her ear. “Have you checked?”
“We’ve looked all over, Beth. Your Dad’s even been out onto the lanes and called him. We last saw him kicking his ball in the garden.”
Beth put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, Jesus, Mum.”
“I’m sure he’s okay. You know what Jonathan’s like. Your dad’s walking over to your place to see if he can see him.”
“I’m going to hang up, Mum, and call Hunter — he’s with Budgie.” As Beth ended the call, a terrible dread swept over her.
Hunter borrowed one of the Special Constable’s bikes and he and Budgie chased up to the chalet where Beth, her dad and his parents were all waiting, concerned looks on all their faces. Ray had his arm wrapped around Beth, whose face was pale, a rime of tears masking her eyes.
Hunter tried to calm his racing heart. Taking a deep breath to steady the panic, deliberately slowing his voice, he said, “Has he turned up?”
Ray shook his head. “I’ve taken the road Jonathan would have taken to get here and no sign.”
“And you’ve definitely checked the house and garden?”
“Twice.”
“And you didn’t hear or see anything untoward?”
Ray shook his head again. “One minute he was kicking the ball, and the next he was gone. We found his ball at the bottom of the garden.”
Beth started to sob. “It’s Billy Wallace, isn’t it? He’s got him?”
A knot formed in Hunter’s throat. “We don’t know that, Beth,” he answered in an attempt to reassure her, but he knew she was only saying out loud what he was thinking.
Upstairs in the Emergency Services Building, Hunter, Budgie, and his full complement of Specials were present, though not everyone could get inside the Constable’s office. Half a dozen stood outside in the corridor, hunkered around the doorway, while the majority squashed together overlooking a map of the island spread out over a desk.
“I’m truly sorry about this, Hunter. I put a couple of guards on your place, but I never thought about Ray and Sandra. I thought your boys would be okay with them.”
“This is not your fault, Budgie. I also thought they’d be safe with Beth’s parents. The main thing we need to do is find out where Billy’s holed up. If it is Billy.” Hunter took a deep breath. “How did you go on with checks around the island?”
“The hotels and B&B places have all come back to us. There’s no one fitting the description of Billy at any of them, and none of them have reported anyone they’re suspicious of. I’ve spoken with the manager at The Stocks and Ian McDonald is confined to his bed, so that rules him out. We’ve still got to do the rental places, and there’s around a couple of dozen of those, that’s all. Do you have a recent picture of Jonathan we can use to show people?”
Hunter fished out his mobile from his pocket, activated it and pulled up a photograph of Jonathan from his gallery. He’d taken it the first day they had arrived here, when they’d all gone to the Dixcart Bay Hotel. He enlarged the photo on the screen and placed it over the map so everyone could see. As he looked at the image, he felt sick.
“We’ll upload this and get copies printed off.”
“What about numbers, Budgie? I’m thinking if it is Billy who’s got Jonathan, he’s a handful. He’s not going to come easy.”
“I’m going to put everyone into threes and visit the places in as close proximity to one another as possible. It’ll take a bit longer to do checks of the properties, but it’ll mean everyone will be within a few minutes of one another should backup be needed.”
Hunter acknowledged Budgie’s tactics with a quick nod. He wanted to storm all the places as quickly as possible and get Jonathan back safely, but he knew that what Budgie had organised made sense. “What about help from Guernsey?”
“Frustratingly, we’re still in the same position as the past couple of days. There was a lull in the weather for a few hours overnight, but this morning it’s back to square one. The sea’s far too rough to travel. The forecast is that there is a possibility of a break later tonight, but we’ll have to wait and see. The moment there’s a break, a team will be over. They’ve promised. And there’s a Superintendent on the end of a phone for advice.”
Hunter nodded again. If this had happened back home, there would be Gold, Silver and Bronze Commanders, an operation room fully staffed, plus trained search teams, Intelligence staff and media support, but these were extraordinary circumstances, and he knew they had to manage with what they had, at least for the next twelve hours. He handed his mobile over to Budgie so that Jonathan’s photo could be uploaded onto the computer for printing off. “I’d liked to be involved.”
Budgie held his look for moment, studying him. “Under normal circumstances you know you shouldn’t, but these are not normal circumstances, Hunter. I do need your help, but you stay with me, understand?”
Hunter responded with a curt nod. “Thank you,” he said softly.
From the printer tray Budgie pulled out half a dozen duplicated sheets of addresses. “Okay, these are all the properties on the island that are rental. I’m splitting the team in half. Twelve of you will do these in four groups of three, and the remainder will do the derelict and empty buildings. We stay in touch with one another, and I want each team to radio in every half an hour with an update. Everyone got that?”
There was such an overwhelming response that Hunter felt himself welling up. It had been an hour and a half since Jonathan had last been seen, and he felt both hopeless and afraid. Billy Wallace was a psychopathic sadist, and he just hoped they could find him in time before anything bad happened to his son.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
The conditions in which Hunter and Budgie tramped across Hogsback were thoroughly depressing. The sky was rain-sodden and it hung everywhere like a mist, dank and cold. The ground was drenched. On the way here, they had carefully checked out a farm and its outbuildings, the owner giving them a helping hand, but they had found nothing untoward. Now the pair were making their way across the headland in the general direction of La Coupée, where Budgie knew of a couple of derelict cottages, long since vacated by islanders, but which nevertheless still needed checking out.
Hearing the echoing boom of the ferocious waves exploding onto the shore below them and ignoring how wet he was getting as he trudged through damp gorse, Hunter had just one thought in his mind — finding Jonathan safe. He prayed that nothing had happened to him. The entire journey from the Emergency Station he had been thinking dark thoughts, and no matter how hard he had tried to dismiss them, he had failed. Searching the outbuildings had triggered thoughts of when his partner, Grace, had suffered the same fate three years ago; her fifteen-year-old daughter had been abducted by a serial killer they had been closing in on. His mood had lifted momentarily when he remembered they had got her back safely, but then darkened again when he recalled Grace’s daughter was still undergoing counselling. The thought of what Jonathan might be going through filled him with dread.
“The weather’s closing in again.” Budgie’s voice broke into his thoughts. “We’ll check out these buildings then get back to the station and see if anyone’s got anything.”
Budgie picked up his pace, making his way back to a path that skirted around the headland towards Little Sark, and as Hunter increased his stride, he suddenly felt lightheaded and had to catch himself. My blood sugar is low. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He needed a sugar hit. He took in a long, slow breath, steadied himself for a second and then set off after Budgie. He’d grab a sugar-laden cuppa once they got back to the station.
Back at the chalet, Hunter couldn’t rest. None of them could. It was the early hours of the morning and everyone was still up. The searches had been called off for the night; the weather conditions and darkness made it nigh on impossible to con
duct a thorough hunt, and everyone was meeting back at the station at 8 a.m. For Hunter that was torture, even though he knew the right decision had been made.
On his way back from the station, Hunter had rung Dawn Leggate and updated her; he hadn’t wanted anyone at the chalet to hear how fruitless the day’s exercise had been or catch the anxiousness in his voice as he explained. It was the first time he had heard his boss flap. She had been outraged that no help was coming from Guernsey and promised that she’d be bending the ear of the Commander the moment their call ended.
Hunter had done his best to reassure her that it wasn’t the fault of anyone on Guernsey, reiterating what Budgie had told him late that afternoon, during their yomp over Hogsback, after he himself had emphasised the urgency of the situation, and criticised his perceived lack of support from the mother island. Budgie had explained that it wasn’t just the prevailing bad weather conditions, but the rise and fall of the tide — at 36 feet, the second biggest in the world — which, together with the sea currents and underlying rock formations around Sark, made for such a treacherous venture, that only the most foolhardy would risk it. While Hunter had managed to placate Dawn with Budgie’s explanation, he could tell from her voice she hadn’t been happy with the situation. Before hanging up, she’d said she was still going to contact the Commander on Guernsey.
By the time Hunter walked into the chalet, it felt as if he was going into meltdown. His head was banging, and he had difficulty focusing on the questions thrown at him, especially from Beth, who had become agitated by his laboured response. Fiona went to Beth’s aid, embracing her, telling her everything would be all right, and then she scuttled away to the kitchen to get them all something to eat and drink. As if that was going to resolve the crisis.
Fiona made them all a sandwich and put together a bowl of salad, but a lot of that went untouched. Hunter felt sick to the core, and every mouthful roiled his stomach. Putting aside his half-eaten food, he rested his head in a chair, closing his eyes, trying to force himself to switch off, but horrific scenes involving Jonathan visited him, every possible scenario he had heard about from police incidents involving child abduction invading his thoughts. It was a living nightmare, and he realised that unwinding anytime soon was out of the question.
Hunted: A psychotic killer is out for revenge... (THE DS HUNTER KERR INVESTIGATIONS Book 6) Page 18