Flack had killed Scott and taken Clara Bell, and although she had no idea where or how, Morgan knew that she would be next.
The certainty filled her with dread, a feeling that pinned her to the metal floor of the van, unable to react to the inevitable.
All she could do was lay there as the van moved through the windswept night, knowing only that death was fast approaching.
100
Lasser banged on the door with the flat of his hand, Bannister and Odette standing at the bottom of the drive.
'The car's gone,' Lasser said as he turned away from the front of the house, the rain hammering down on the three of them.
'Well, where the bloody hell could he have gone at this time of night?' the DCI asked.
'Perhaps he's gone to do a late-night food shop?' Odette suggested as Lasser walked towards them.
'You didn't see the guy, Odette, he looked more like the type who would have meals on wheels rather than hopping into the car and driving off to God knows where.'
Swiping the rain from his face Bannister scowled. 'You think Barry lied to you about Finder?' he asked.
'I think they were lying about one another, and I don't trust either of them,' Lasser said with a dark scowl.
Bannister looked past him to the house, the lights were off, the curtains drawn. 'If that's the case then perhaps Barry's not as infirm as he led you to believe.'
Lasser suspected that Bannister was right, and if so, it was just another failure on his part, he hadn't considered that Barry could have been spinning him bullshit, and now here they were standing in front of the empty house with the empty drive.
'We need to know more about Barry and Finder,' Bannister suddenly said as he turned to the car.
Odette looked at Lasser, an expression of concern on her face. 'Are you OK?' she asked.
He chewed his lip, his mind twisting this way and that, he thought of Barry and Finder, two men who seemed to have a dislike of one another, yet they had started out as friends, both joining the force on the same day, training together and ending up here in Wigan, then he pictured Clara Bell who had escaped from the killer in the woods, finally his mind turned to Morgan Pence in the hands of the same killer. The bastard had made a mistake with Clara, underestimating her resolve and determination, and yet Lasser knew he would not make the same mistake with Morgan Pence.
'What are you thinking?' Odette asked as Bannister started the car and gave a beep on the horn.
'We know someone is feeding the killer information about the unsolved murders, I went over to Finder's place thinking it could be him and that he could have been responsible for running Bob Ross down.'
'But it needed checking, Lasser, we all agreed on that,' she said.
'Are you two coming or not?' Bannister shouted through the open side window.
'I know,' Lasser paused, 'but the truth is Tom Barry fits the bill as well, he spent his whole working life here, and the way Finder paints him he sounds like the Steven Black type of officer, devious and sly, according to Finder he couldn't be trusted to do the simplest of things.'
Suddenly they heard the car door open and close and Bannister emerged through the rain. 'What the bloody hell's going on, we need to get back to the station and…'
'Do we have anyone standing guard at the old mill?' Lasser interrupted.
'You know we don't, we stood guard, and no one turned up, we're stretched to the limit on this, Carole asked for help and it never came,' Bannister grumbled.
'I want to head over there and check the place out again.'
Bannister and Odette exchanged a quick glance, and then the DCI sighed.
'You take the car and get back to the station, Odette, we'll go to the mill and take a look.'
'OK, but you two be careful, and if we find anything then I'll give you a ring.'
Half a minute later, they pulled along the street, reaching the junction Odette turned left and Bannister checked the deserted junction before swinging the wheel to the right.
'Right, what's this all about?' Bannister asked.
'I don't like being taken for a mug.'
'Ah, so this is about your bruised ego?' Bannister asked as he moved quickly through the gears.
Lasser turned his head and looked hard at the DCI who ignored him, as he kept his gaze fixed on the view ahead.
'Is that what you think?'
'Nobody likes to be made a fool of, Lasser, but, like I said, it happens to us all at some point.'
Pulling out the cigarettes, Lasser lit two before handing one over. 'Finder said I had trouble with authority and that's why I was so eager to believe what Barry said.'
'He could have a point,' Banister replied as he slid the window down a couple of inches to let the smoke out.
'Thanks for the support.'
'Listen, we're both the same, we both can't abide the type who look down on people and you get plenty of that in the force, look at Mills and Ryan, bastards the pair of them, easy to hate because to the likes of us they made no effort to hide what they were. If you believe Finder then this Barry character was of the sly variety just like Black, too lazy to put in the effort to get any higher up the ladder, thinking the world owed them a living and hating those who managed to get up to the next level.'
Lasser listened, he knew that the DCI was right, but it still didn't make him feel any easier.
'The bottom line is our feelings don't really matter, catching the killer is all that counts.'
'You're right,' Lasser said as he flicked ash through the window.
'We know for a fact that whoever took Clara and then Morgan is getting information from someone about the original murders,' he paused, 'but it doesn't necessarily mean he's in contact with the original killer.'
'What are you talking about?' Lasser asked as he took another quick pull on the cigarette watching the road through the smoke as the DCI changed gear.
'Well, what if the original killer left some kind of diary and the prick who has Morgan found it?'
Lasser closed his eyes as he realised that Bannister could well be right, he had been convinced that the original killer was still alive and in touch with the man they were chasing.
'Shit,' he hissed flicking the cigarette out of the window.
'The truth is we won't know until we catch the man, so for now we concentrate on that and we don't allow ourselves to get side-tracked by what happened in the past.'
'Agreed,' Lasser said as he watched the rain sloshing down the windscreen, the wipers working to shift the never-ending deluge. 'Perhaps we should just go back to the station and get searching through the facts,' Lasser said as he felt the weight of disappointment bear down on his shoulders.
'Not a chance,' Bannister replied as he slowed down for the roundabout.
'But you just said…'
'It was a theory, Lasser, and it doesn't mean I'm right, your suspicions are valid so we go to the mill and take a look, if I had my way, I would have kept the place under surveillance but we both know that will never happen.'
Resting his head back, Lasser closed his eyes and tried to calm his senses, but the two retired officers' faces ballooned to the forefront of his mind. Tom Barry puffing away on his pipe, occasionally wincing as he shifted in the chair telling his tales about Bob Ross and Donald Finder. Then Finder's sneering face slipped into view, as he gave his version of events, slagging Barry off in the process.
'Bastards,' he rumbled.
Bannister glanced at him and frowned; his eyes narrowed as they bulleted through the darkness.
101
Robert Flack pulled across the road from the mill and licked his lips, his eyes trying to peer into the darkness to his right, though the courtyard was a place of shadows, wet cobbles and tall bushes swaying in the wind. Checking the mirrors, he took a deep breath before spinning the wheel to the right, driving across the road and through the gap in the wall where the iron gates used to be, the headlights lancing out into the darkness and illuminating the front
section of the towering building.
He drove around the courtyard before pulling up by the side of the tall brick wall, making sure the vehicle was hidden from anyone either driving or walking past the gap in the wall.
The seconds ticked by, he waited, trying to calm his jangling nerves, the excitement continued to build and then he took a huge gulp of air, his hands sliding off the wheel. He needed to calm down, he needed to follow the details. The trouble was his mentor had taken Norma Rowbottom to the roof, but she had gone willingly because she had known the man who ended her life. When he had been sending emails back and forth, his mentor had told him everything, every wonderful detail, the way the girl had panicked when she had realised that the man she was with, the one she had trusted, was not who he pretended to be. When he had revealed his true self, she had tried to fight but her efforts had been futile, she had been in the hands of an artist, and she had died with terror in her heart consuming her utterly.
Even now, the thought of it thrilled him, and now he was so close to having his own hands around Morgan Pence's throat.
Nodding to himself, he pushed the door open and stepped out into the wind and rain before closing the door quietly. Moving around the van he eased to the side door, the wall at his back, then he tensed and quickly slid the door open, Morgan's face was a pale smear in the darkness, reaching in he hauled her towards him, quickly checking that she was still tied and gagged before manhandling her over his shoulder, cursing under his breath as he struggled in the narrow gap between the wall and the van before emerging into the courtyard. Two weeks earlier he had been here looking for the best way to enter the building, so he headed straight towards the small door he had found between the line of bushes that swayed in the wind.
Seconds later, he stepped into the vast space before dipping a hand into his pocket and turning on the small torch, the light pooling in front of him showing the way.
When he heard Morgan squeal behind the tape, he blocked out the sound and started to walk, the adrenalin flooded through his body making the girl feel light on his shoulder. The metal pillars appeared before him and he weaved his way through them, he knew where he was going, he had been on the roof, seen the exact spot where Rowbottom had died. He had stood there and tried to imagine how he would feel when his time to re-enact the killing arrived.
Without even realising it, his pace quickened, and the girl started to bounce on his shoulder, his urgency to get to the roof made the balance shift and she started to slide forcing him to stop, a snarl on his face as he rearranged the weight before moving forward again.
On his shoulder, Morgan Pence cried as the horror of her plight continued to plough through her mind and body, almost as if her brain were slowly trying to prepare her for what was going to happen. Gradually, parts of her mind started to close down, almost like someone walking around a large house turning off the light in each room before moving to the next. She tried to think of her father but found that his image had vanished, she could no longer picture him, and then her mother appeared standing in a cone of light with darkness all around, her hands clasped beneath her chin, head bowed as the tears slipped from her eyes, then she looked up and, click, the light went out and she disappeared. Morgan Pence went limp as the fear took her down into the darkness trying to escape the terror of what the immediate future held.
102
Bannister hesitated before turning right and driving onto the car park of the shop they had parked at the day before.
'You don't want to drive straight to the mill?' Lasser asked in surprise.
Turning off the engine and lights, Bannister unclipped the seat belt before pushing the door open. 'If we're going to do this then we do it the right way.'
Lasser said nothing as they climbed out of the car, zipping up their jackets they headed back to the road and turned right, the wind and rain driving into their bleak faces, forcing them to narrow their eyes against the onslaught.
The road was deserted, to their right they could hear the water in the canal slapping against the brickwork, and then the bulk of another mill rose to their right, though this one had long since been turned into apartments that overlooked the town.
The wind picked up speed as it was funnelled down the street, flapping at their clothing, the rain running down their waterproof jackets and onto their trousers, Lasser felt cold and worn out, his mind still trying to think of a way forward, deep inside convinced that this was a waste of time, another dead end.
When the old derelict mill came into view, they crossed the road, having to almost lean forward against the howling wind, then suddenly they reached the entrance to the courtyard and stepped through, both coming to an immediate halt as they saw the van parked close to the wall.
'Jesus Christ,' Bannister gasped as they moved forward towards the vehicle.
Lasser looked up at the towering mill, the place looking almost gothic behind the driving curtain of rain and darkness.
Coming to a halt, Bannister looked into the cab as Lasser hurried around the back and snatched the door open, his narrowed eyes widening as he saw the empty space, though the side door stood open, the metal floor wet with the rain that had blown in through the open door.
Then Bannister appeared at his side, the phone held to his ear. 'We need the owner of the van ASAP, Spenner,' he said as he gave the details. 'As soon as you get an address, I want you to head to the house, go mob-handed and kick the door down if you have to.'
Lasser heard Spenner mumble something and then Bannister was speaking again.
'Good man,' he growled before ending the call.
They both turned and looked at the mill, searching the broken windows for any flicker of light, when they saw none they moved forward, Bannister snatching the torch from his pocket as they dashed through the open door and into the huge maw of the derelict mill.
103
Robert Flack came to a halt, drawing air in through his slack mouth, the sweat running down his face, it felt almost as bad as when he had tried to carry the little bitch up the steep-sided incline running with water and mud. The weight had become too much and now he stood in the darkness with the weak pool of light at his feet, waiting for his heart to steady itself.
In an ideal world he would have been able to walk the victim up the steps like his mentor had done, but back then Norma Rowbottom had gone willingly, unaware of the danger, the same couldn't be said for Morgan Pence.
Gradually, he felt his breathing start to ease and then he was moving up the last flight of steps, his back aching, the muscles in his thighs thrumming with pain.
Reaching the top, he stopped again and pushed the small metal door open, standing in the doorway for a moment, letting the wind howl into his face, cooling the sweat on his fevered brow, the rain acting like a cooling balm as he stepped out onto the lead-lined roof. At last, he hoisted the girl from his shoulder and placed her onto her feet, where she swayed from side to side in the blast of wind. Lifting the torch, he shone it into her eyes and for a second he saw her pupils wide and terror-filled, then she screwed them closed and he felt the excitement rush up through the heart of him, washing away the sense of fatigue. He pulled the knife from his pocket before turning and kicking the door closed then he eased down to his knees and cut the tape binding her legs before standing back up.
Grabbing her arm, he dragged her around the rooftop, twice he had to stop to haul her upright as she fell to her knees.
'Get up, get up right now!' he demanded having to raise his voice against the roar of the wind.
In the centre of the roof stood the large square section of chimney that rose another twenty feet into the darkness.
Pulling her around the corner, the howling wind seemed to die away, the bulk of the chimney deadening the ferocious onslaught. Spinning Morgan around, he pushed her back against the wall and then reached up and snatched the tape from her mouth, she gasped, her body shaking in the falling rain. Reaching out, he pressed his hand between the swell of her bre
asts, pinning her to the brickwork.
'Try and run and I will kill you right here and now, scream and I'll cut your throat,' Flack warned as he held the blade up before her wide eyes.
Inside he could feel his whole body alight with the thrill of where he was and the terror of the girl in front of him.
'Please, I want to go home, I need…'
Adjusting his grip, he suddenly clamped a hand around her throat and Morgan's eyes sprang even wider.
'I didn't give you permission to speak,' he hissed, and inside he heard the giggle of laughter and his erection sprang to life. 'Speak when spoken to, is that understood?'
Morgan tried to nod but the hand around her neck kept her locked there, she could feel the cold wet brickwork at her back, her hands pulled and tugged but the tape was still wound tight around her wrists.
Suddenly his grip lessened, and she gulped at the air, her legs shaking with the effort of keeping her upright.
Her eyes flicked to his face and then she quickly looked away, it was Flack and yet it wasn't, she recalled the times when the barbecues had been in full swing, and he would laugh at something, head thrown back, his eyes full of merriment, and yet now there was nothing but shining madness in the depths.
'I want you to know that none of this is personal, Morgan, but it had to be someone I knew, and the truth is I immediately thought of you, then your father collapsed and was taken away and it was like a sign, can you understand that, a sign from above?'
Morgan opened her mouth, but nothing came out except a sob of fear.
'The details are the important thing, killing is not difficult but getting away with it is, and that's exactly what I'm going to do again and then…'
'Well done, lad, you made it,' the voice sounded full of joy and Flack snapped a look over his shoulder as the figure emerged through the darkness, Flack's eyes widened in shock as he saw the old man approach, the bob hat pulled over his head to just above his eyes.
Third Eye - DS Lasser Series 25 (2021) Page 34