Cocking my head, I continued to replay the clip of video until my eyes were aching.
“There, what’s that?” I muttered aloud before looking around me. No-one was around to think I was nuts, and I focused back on the footage. I’d paused it just as the figure was getting their card out and tried to zoom in, but that just made the image more blurry.
Not a wallet, I thought. The figure was definitely unzipping some kind of purse or handbag. It was much too bulky to be a wallet, and I reckoned I could hesitantly say that they were a woman. But that didn’t tell me whether it was Lawrence’s mum or not.
I sat back in my seat and rubbed my chin. I fiddled about on my computer to find the footage we’d gotten from the Wooding’s house, which showed Mrs Wooding leaving the house on the last day she’d been seen. I pulled the videos up side by side and tried to see whether they walked in the same way, or if their mannerisms were similar.
It was difficult to tell, with the woman at the ATM wearing flat shoes and Mrs Wooding decked out in tall heels, which altered her stride significantly. Watching the videos together, I began to see aspects that looked alike between the two figures. They both looked a similar height and build, for starters, as best as I could tell with the bad quality ATM camera. Then there was the way that both women had narrow shoulders pulled back as they walked. Even though the woman on the ATM video carried her head hanging down, there was still that stiffness to her walk, her back straight.
None of this was exactly definitive, but my gut said that Ellie Wooding was alive and had visited the ATM. What I wanted was a second opinion from Stephen, but that would have to wait.
Debating my next steps, I picked up my phone and scrolled through to find Alicia Kelley’s number, Mrs Wooding’s sister, and called her.
She picked up almost immediately. “Hello?”
“DCI Mitchell here,” I said. “I was wondering if Lawrence would be able to speak to me again today, we’ve had some recent developments.” As I spoke, I remembered the grave-sized area we’d found in the dales and felt faintly sick. If that site turned out to be the worse option, it would be my job to relay the information to Alicia.
“Any news of my sister?” she asked.
I paused. “Possibly,” I hedged. “I’d prefer to talk to you and Lawrence in person, if possible.”
There was a brief silence, where Alicia seemed to think over what I’d said. “I’m with him now,” she said. “I’ll text you the hospital’s address.”
I exhaled. “That’s great, thank you.”
Once I’d hung up, I transferred the ATM video over to one of the station’s tablets and tucked it into the large pocket on the inside of my coat. Alicia sent me the name of the private hospital she and Dan had had Lawrence moved to and, in the car, I plugged it into the sat-nav.
I turned the car’s radio up to help me ignore Stephen’s empty seat and pulled up in the hospital car park half an hour later. There were no parking fees here, and the building looked modern and sleek. I couldn’t help a grimace at the difference between this and the NHS hospital. It was what it was, and I pushed my own feelings aside.
There was no queue at the reception, and I was personally shown up to Lawrence’s private room by a friendly nurse. She knocked on the door, and Alicia called us in.
“Hi,” I said, my gaze drawn to Lawrence, who still looked like a gust of wind might blow him over, but his face seemed a better colour, and he was playing on a game console with fierce concentration.
“Hi,” Alicia said, a touch apologetically when Lawrence didn’t so much as look up. “How are you, Inspector?”
I nodded. “Can’t complain, thanks.” I patted my coat, feeling the hard bulk of the tablet stowed inside, but I didn’t plan to bring that out just yet. Instead, I dug out my notebook and flipped it open, taking a seat beside Lawrence’s bed.
He finally looked up, a cold expression sliding onto his face when he saw me. I hardly blamed him. I was here to ask him difficult questions, and I didn’t yet have any good news for him. As far as he knew, I might be here to give him the worse news.
“I’ve got a couple of questions I need to ask,” I said, “and then I’ve got a video I’d like you to look at, is that okay?”
“What’s in the video?” Alicia asked immediately, her brows folded in concern.
“It shouldn’t be distressing,” I tried to reassure her, “I’d just like Lawrence and you to have a look and tell me what you think.” I pulled the conversation back on track, turning to Lawrence as I said, “But first, I’m afraid I need to ask if there’s anything else you can tell me about when you were held. Especially anything that might be relevant to your parents.”
Lawrence’s hard expression lasted until I mentioned his parents. Then it crumbled, and he clenched his jaw as he turned away from me. My heart hurt for him, but I made myself stay quiet and wait. Alicia fidgeted in her seat, looking distinctly uncomfortable, but she stayed silent too.
Lawrence rubbed a hand over his hair, which had been given a trim since I’d last seen and looked much better. “First,” he said stiffly, his head bowed, “you’ve got to promise something.” He sounded young as he spoke, but deadly serious all the same.
I leaned backwards slightly in surprise. “What do you want me to promise?” I asked.
He looked up, fixing me with his dark eyes that had experienced so much more pain than he ever should have. “Promise you won’t stop looking for them,” he said, quiet and urgent. “If I tell you, you won’t give up on them, on my dad.”
I noticed how he’d mentioned his father specifically, not his mother, but didn’t comment on it. I’d been worried that he’d ask for something I couldn’t promise, but this, I could.
“Lawrence,” I said solemnly. “I’ll do everything in my power to find your parents. Anything you tell me will help. I’m not giving up on them.”
Lawrence swallowed and gave me a shaky nod, before pulling his shoulders back as he straightened up.
“While I was there,” he said, his voice strained, “right near the end, before they- they left. I overheard them saying something about a meet-up.” He clenched his jaw again. “And something… something about someone getting shot.”
My stomach twisted at his pained words, though the police detective side of me was excited by the possible confirmation of the scene we’d seen in the dales, with the empty shell casings.
“Did they say who, Lawrence?” I asked quietly.
Lawrence closed his eyes briefly. “I don’t know, but I- I don’t think it was one of them.”
I bowed my head slightly at the news and sat back to give Lawrence some space to get himself together again. His aunt came out of her chair to crouch at Lawrence’s other side, taking his hand in hers. This time, he didn’t shake her off, but only stared at the white bedsheets and shivered like he was cold.
“It was my fault,” he said suddenly. I broke off from where I’d been quietly making notes on what he’d told us and looked up sharply.
“It wasn’t-” Alicia started.
Lawrence pulled away from her, his face twisted up in an expression that could have been mistaken for anger, but looked closer to guilt to me.
“It was,” he said, hard and firm. “I was so stupid. I messed up, I got myself attacked, it was my fault they had to get me back and then, and then,” he gritted his teeth, “probably got them both killed.”
His aunt flinched back, and Lawrence turned to me, his eyes large and desperate.
“Right? Everyone’s thinking it, aren’t they? Why wouldn’t they have shown up if they’re alive?” he demanded, his voice rising. “They’re both dead! And it’s my- my-”
“Lawrence-”
“Shut up!” he snapped. “Leave me alone, okay, go away.”
I winced. Alicia turned towards me, and I knew she was about to shoo me out, just as I would have done if our roles had been reversed.
“Lawrence, I need to show you this video,” I said. “I don’t w
ant to get either of your hopes up,” I tried to mitigate their disappointment if the video wasn’t of Lawrence’s mum like I thought it was, “but I need your opinion on it.”
“Get my hopes up?” Lawrence repeated, looking up again with a frown. “Show me.”
I stopped myself from lifting an eyebrow at his imperious demand, because god knows his bossiness was better than the anguish that’d been in his voice before. I got out the tablet and Alicia slid herself onto the bed, so that she could see it too.
I pulled up the video clip and handed it to Lawrence, hoping that I was doing the right thing by showing him this.
Lawrence latched onto the tablet, jabbing the screen to make it play, while Alicia looked equally engrossed. The clip was short, and Lawrence’s frown deepened when it ended, and he replayed it.
I’d expected Lawrence to be the one to speak first, but it was Alicia. “That’s- that’s Ellie,” she said, soft but certain.
I looked closely at her. “You’re sure?”
Lawrence didn’t look sure and was frowning at the video, replaying it again.
“I’m sure,” Alicia said, her eyes still glued to the screen. “That’s how she walks. That’s her handbag. And she always-” She flicked her hand in a motion I recognised from the figure in the video, “does this hand thing when she gets something from her bag.”
“Lawrence?” I prompted gently, and Alicia looked down at her nephew, who was still frowning.
“I guess,” he said quietly. He turned to me. “Have you seen my dad?”
I blinked. “No,” I said quietly. “There’s been no sign of him.” I paused. “Do you recognise the person in that video?”
He looked back down at it. “I guess it looks kind of like her.”
That hadn’t been the emotional reaction I’d in any way expected, but grief could be like that, I knew. Apparent apathy could be a cover for suppressed emotion. Though he’d shown much more obvious concern for his father, and I wondered if he was closer with his dad.
Lawrence passed the tablet back to me, and I nodded, turning it off and tucking it away. “Thank you both for looking. I also have some questions about the,” I hesitated, “people who took you, if you can tell me what you remember about them.”
Alicia pressed her lips together and looked at me with open dislike. Lawrence just exhaled heavily.
“Yeah,” he said after a minute.
I’d wanted to ask him questions about the people who’d kidnapped him last time, but he’d become too upset for it. I didn’t want to leave it much later, though, because memory tended to deteriorate under the best of circumstances and these were hardly that.
So we spent the next half hour with Lawrence flatly relaying everything he could recall about the core three men who’d be in charge of him at the house, and the other few that visited.
“But they mostly wore balaclavas,” he told me, “so I didn’t see their faces or anything.” He looked away, out of the window. “It was the only thing that made me think I just might live, you know? In movies they always say that if you see their faces, they’re gonna kill you, right? So I hoped they really were gonna let me go, eventually.”
I noted that down with a nod. “It’s a reasonable deduction,” I agreed.
I turned over what he’d told me in my thoughts and wondered what the kidnappers’ plan had been exactly. Something had clearly gone wrong, but Lawrence was right. His kidnappers had kept him alive beyond when Lawrence seemed to be useful to them, and I wasn’t sure why, exactly, that was, though I was beyond glad of it, of course. Perhaps they’d had a shred of humanity, I mused, before remembering that cupboard Lawrence had been kept in and my lips twisted in disgust.
“Inspector?”
I looked up, realising that I’d zoned out, and found Alicia looking at me. She nodded meaningfully towards Lawrence, who looked exhausted, and I gave her a tight smile.
“Alright, that’s all,” I said and stood up, putting my notebook away. “Thank you both. I appreciate it a lot.”
Lawrence didn’t look up, and Alicia was focused on him, so I quietly saw myself out and closed the door behind me. I briefly leaned against the wall outside, rubbing my head. I had a great deal to think over, and it left my head aching.
“Are you alright, sir?”
A nurse had come to a stop in front of me, looking concerned. I forced a smile. “I’m fine. Thank you.”
She gave me an unconvinced look. “Well, when I get worn out by it all,” she said, “I go and have a cup of tea and a breather in the break room. Vent to my colleagues. Can you do that?”
I raised my eyebrows at her, somehow both irritated and touched by her concern at the same time. “Thanks for the suggestion. Have a good day.”
I headed off before she could reply, not in the mood for small talk with strangers, especially nosy ones. Though a cup of coffee and a short break did sound tempting, I had to admit.
I treated myself to a Costa coffee on the way back to the station. I sipped it at my desk as I wrote up my notes from visiting Lawrence and outlined some of my thoughts after what Alicia and her nephew had told me.
Taking a late lunch, I texted Stephen to see how he was getting on while I munched on my sandwich.
Gaskell turned up as I was absently re-reading my notes, hoping something would jump out to me.
“Mitchell,” he said, giving me an expectant look.
I swallowed my last mouthful of cheese and pickle and stood up to follow Gaskell over to his office.
Gaskell gestured to the seat opposite his desk and sat down heavily in his own. “Alright, take a seat.”
“Sir?” I asked hesitantly. He looked more grim than usual, and I wondered what exactly it was that he wanted to talk to me about.
“I got a call from forensics, from Dr King.”
I perked up. “Aye?”
He gave a nod. “She said you were the one to find the grave-”
“Grave?” I said before I could stop myself, my stomach sinking.
Gaskell rubbed his stubbly chin. “Yes. They found a body, Mitchell.”
I swore under my breath. “Whose, sir?” I asked urgently.
Gaskell grimaced. “They’re not entirely sure. It definitely looked like it’s been in the ground for a month.”
So not Lawrence’s mum, I hoped, if it was her at that ATM. That left the possibility of it being his father, though I was trying to hold out hope that it was one of the kidnappers’ gang and Lawrence’s dad was still out there somewhere.
“The postmortem’s set for tomorrow, but they’ve said it’s a man, and he was stabbed in the stomach.” He hesitated. “There’s no sign of Mrs Wooding, then, I understand?”
“Actually, the tech team picked up that her card was used at an ATM. The video makes it hard to be certain, but it could be her. Her sister said she was certain it was Ellie Wooding. I’m looking into it further.”
Gaskell nodded, folding his arms over his chest as he leaned back. “Alright, good work. This has been upped to a murder investigation, you understand, Mitchell, so you’ll have more resources available to you now. I’m putting you in the lead, naturally.”
I quirked an eyebrow in faint surprise, before nodding. There was a feeling of sadness that Stephen wasn’t at my side for this, but he’d be back soon enough, and the show had to go on.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Good. Keep going. Your progress looks promising so far.”
“Aye, I’m hopeful, sir.”
“Do you know when Huxley will be back in?”
I was surprised that Stephen hadn’t let Gaskell know and shook my head. “Not sure, sir, sorry. I’ll keep you updated if he gets in touch.”
Gaskell sighed. “Alright. He should be with his kid, of course, but tell him to keep me in the loop.”
“Will do, sir.”
He dismissed me, and I headed back to my desk. I checked my phone for a message from Stephen and found a missed call from him instead. I called him b
ack right away, the phone ringing for a long time before he finally picked up.
“Darren?” He sounded weary.
“Yeah, hi,” I said, in a careful voice. “How’re things?”
He sighed. “Her asthma’s been confirmed. The antibiotics for the pneumonia seem to be working, mostly, but Christ, I can’t stand hearing her cough like that.”
I winced sympathetically. “I’m sorry, Steph. Hang in there, alright, she’ll be okay.”
“I ruddy hope so,” he said gruffly.
“When was the last time you slept, aye?” I asked, concerned. “If it was your nap in the car, then you should go get-”
“Okay, okay,” he said, before laughing quietly. “I’ve been kipping when my girl does,” he reassured me. “I’m alright, relatively, you know.”
“Alright, good.” I paused. “Gaskell told me to tell you to keep in touch with him. He was supportive, though, o’course.”
Stephen exhaled. “Yeah, I need to call him too.”
“Aw, you called me first,” I teased gently. “Does that mean I’m your favourite?”
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Stephen warned, but I could hear the smile in his voice. “How’re things there?”
“There’s, ah, been developments,” I said vaguely.
“Alright.” Stephen didn’t push, knowing that case related discussions were best had in person. “I doubt I’ll be in tomorrow, what with my wife needing to get back to her work, but I should be in the day after.”
“Cool,” I said, slightly relieved. “But if you’re needed with your-”
“Mitchell, I can make a decision, okay?” he said, sounding tired again. “I know you mean well, but Annie and I are balancing things, and it works. There’s no point us both being there all the time. We stress each other out with worrying.”
I sighed. “Sorry, you’re right. It’ll be good to see you, mate.”
“Yeah, I miss your ugly mug too.”
I smiled. “Call Gaskell,” I reminded him.
“Yeah, yeah,” he huffed before he hung up and I sighed.
I missed him, but I had work to do in the meantime, and we couldn’t afford to put things on hold.
DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3 Page 57