Evil Valley (The TV Detective Series)

by Simon Hall

  ‘No shit,’ grunted Adam. ‘Not another puzzle like that damn McCluskey business. I’m sick of them. Why do you attract mad criminals? What the hell does it mean?’

  ‘It’s a quotation, I think. Or part of one. We need a dictionary of quotations. I’ll call the newsroom in a while to arrange the outside broadcast and get one of the researchers to look it up. Let’s have a look at the rest of the letter first.’

  Adam snorted, but again held up the bag.

  “Anyway, I digress. Back to last night’s meeting. I did have one momentary concern, when I was describing the villain to you Adam (I scarcely need mention I know you’ll be reading this together. I saw how close you were last night. You make a lovely couple), and Dan, you so helpfully chipped in with the make of the car. I did just wonder at that moment whether you’d realised I was describing you. It was a risk, wasn’t it? A delicious one though, which I’m afraid I couldn’t resist. I had a second’s worry there, but, Dan, you played your part beautifully. Thank you.”

  It was Dan’s turn to snarl now.

  “So then, onto more practical matters. You’ll want to know where we’re going next in our dance. If you haven’t already, very soon now you will find out what the next stage of my plan entails. You’ll immediately realise it will mean I have to leave Plymouth. Did I mention to you I recently purchased a car? It was out of necessity – you’ll see why soon enough – but I’ve quite got into driving. I had a look at the map and wondered where I might go.

  “Somewhere I’ve not been to before I thought, somewhere easily accessible, next to a good road. Maybe around Manchester. Or somewhere near, like Denton or Hyde. They look like interesting places. Anyway, wherever I choose, I shall be leaving Plymouth. But this is not goodbye.

  “Again my friends, you will be asking yourselves about my motive. Soon now your computers and detectives will bring you all the background on me that you could wish for. It’s all in there, and surprisingly simple perhaps. It’ll explain to you my need to make the law be sorry, and why you Dan have become involved in this too. You probably suspect already that you’re a messenger and I would agree with that. But you’ll also see why I chose you particularly, and why I am disappointed in you. We have a passion in common. Or rather, we had.

  “Your attempts to trace me will soon become increasingly urgent, like a man seeking the elusive band of gold. Well, all the information you need to find me is contained within the letters I have sent you Dan, if you know where to look and how to interpret. I have every confidence you will. The question is – how long will it take you? And in this you must apply yourself as hard as you know how, for as you will soon realise, time is not on your side.

  “Again you will be discussing whether I am evil, or mad, misguided or whatever label you might find easiest to describe me with. I do not see myself as evil, though no doubt it will become a word commonly used in relation to me. I am merely a man who has suffered a wrong, which I intend to point out and go some way towards putting right. If I am evil, I was made so. It was my destiny, and who of us can avoid that?

  “Finally, I say this. Dan, if my plan goes as I expect, we shall meet again but unfortunately not under such circumstances as to make a real conversation possible. This I regret, but it is how it must be. I hope when you come to report on all that has happened, you give me a fair hearing and understand a little of why I have done that which I have.

  “I can honestly say it’s been a pleasure.

  “Edmund.”

  Adam leaned back against the corridor wall and let out a long breath.

  ‘He’s barmy. He’s absolutely bloody barmy. What the hell is he up to now? What’s he on about, going away somewhere? Why’s he telling us where? And what’s all that about a band of gold? And seeing you again, but not being able to talk to you? What the hell does it mean? And do you really think he’s put the answers to what he’s up to in his letters?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ replied Dan emphatically. ‘I’m sure they’re in there. He wants to be caught eventually so his big statement can get all the publicity he obviously craves. But it’s got to be done his way. What scares me is what he’s up to now. Right at this moment if the letter’s to be believed.’

  The forensics officers had finished and the search team went in. ‘Anything you can find that might give us a clue what he’s up to,’ Adam shouted. ‘Anything at all. There’s no need to be gentle. He won’t be coming back here. Rip the place apart. And do it fast.’

  A dozen men and women from TAG, the Tactical Aid Group, all dressed in black, fanned out across the flat, began opening drawers, checking down the sides of the sofa, looking under carpets and pictures, anywhere that anything could be hidden.

  Dan slipped his mobile out of his pocket and called the newsroom. Lizzie’s number, the red line. He noticed his ankle was aching harder now, making it difficult to stand. He sat down on the concrete steps, felt their dense coldness start to creep up his back.

  ‘Lizzie, it’s Dan. I’ve got something for you, an urgent one.’

  ‘Oh, so you do still work here then? Good.’

  He swallowed his annoyance, explained the story. ‘Sold,’ she said instantly. ‘I’ll send Nigel and the OB truck. I want it on the lunchtime news. I want a big report. I want a live interview. I want even more later. I want …’

  ‘OK,’ he interrupted, rubbed the phone on his shirt to make it crackle. ‘Sorry, you’re breaking up. I’ll sort it out and call back later.’

  Adam was involved in a whispered conference with another plain-clothes man Dan recognised from the McCluskey case. He looked over quizzically and Adam beckoned.

  ‘Forensics didn’t find anything that might give us a clue what he’s up to. But this,’ he said, waving a file, ‘is the background stuff on Gibson. It makes interesting reading, to say the least.’

  Dan took the sheets of paper, wondered what he was about to see. His hand was shaking.

  The sheet first was a brief biography.

  Edmund Gibson, born July 4th 1969 in Exeter. Father a Colonel in the Devon and Dorset regiment, mother a nurse. Went to a state school in Exeter, then university in Birmingham, read history. Graduated with a first class honours degree. Sponsored at university by the army, ambition to join the same regiment as his father, now retired. Trained as an officer but failed the selection course as not having necessary leadership skills. Moved instead to become a dog handler in the Devon and Dorsets. Passed dog training with distinction. Posted to Bosnia along with a detachment from the regiment in July 1995.

  Dan turned the page. There was a brief summary of the situation in Bosnia at the time. It was a vicious civil war. The capital, Sarajevo was under siege by Serbs. It was supposed to be a safe haven, set up to protect the Muslim community, but it wasn’t working. The Devon and Dorsets had been sent as part of the United Nations peacekeeping force to try to relieve the city. Dan remembered it vaguely from news reports of the time, continual shelling and bloodshed. Slaughter might be a better word, according to the report in front of him. It detailed widespread massacres.

  Gibson’s personal file revealed he had been on guard duty one night when there was an attack on the troops’ camp. According to his account, a man had attempted to kill him with a knife. His Alsatian had attacked the man, suffering a serious knife wound in the process. Gibson himself wasn’t injured. The dog – called Sam – survived, but was disabled and was to be sent back to England to be re-homed. Gibson was, according to the record, “powerfully attached to the dog who he believed to have saved his life”, and left the army to go back to Devon with Sam.

  Before he went, military psychologists had examined Gibson, and concluded he was unfit for duty. The trauma of the constant attacks and the horrors he had witnessed had what they described as a “profound and damaging effect”. The knife attack had compounded that, the report calling it “the classic straw that breaks the camel’s back”, not uncommon in cases of a sudden, direct and tangible threat to a subject’s life. The doctors
recommended a course of counselling, which Gibson apparently ignored.

  There was no record of anything happening to him in the time after that, until last year. Gibson was arrested and charged with assaulting a police officer. The case went to court and he was convicted. Because of his history of military service and his unblemished record he was spared prison, instead given a suspended sentence, community service and a fine.

  Dan turned to the last page, the details of Gibson’s conviction. He read it, then leaned back heavily against the wall, rested his head on his chest and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply and read it again. Now he understood. The reason for Gibson’s obsession with him was here.

  The police had received information that a man was using his flat to deal in drugs. He was reputed to carry a gun for protection. Dan looked down, out of the window. It was the flat neighbouring and below Gibson’s.

  The police had carried out a dawn raid, a dozen armed officers surrounding the flat, then moving in. But Sam had been in the garden and when he saw one of the men creeping over the fence … did he remember Bosnia? Think his master was again under lethal attack? Or was it just a dog’s natural instinct at the invasion of his territory? Whatever, he’d attacked the policeman with such force the officer had shot him dead. Gibson had heard the barking and the shot, come running down the stairs and seen his beloved dog lying dead in the garden. He’d instantly charged at the policeman and assaulted him. The report said Gibson’s fury was so great it took six officers to restrain him.

  Dan slowly shook his head as he sank into his thoughts.

  He thinks I let him down. He’s seen those pictures of Rutherford and me they used to illustrate the story about how I solved the Death Pictures riddle. He’s seen I’m a dog lover – more, an Alsatian lover – and he feels betrayed that I work with the very people who are responsible for killing Sam. He’s going to make the police pay for killing him and he’s going to teach me a lesson by using me to tell the world.

  The twitch of wanting to continually turn and look over his shoulder was back and its pull was powerful. The man’s a psychopath. What the hell have I got myself into?

  Adam was staring at him. ‘You OK, mate?’ he asked. ‘You’ve gone pale.’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Dan with an effort. ‘Yeah, just about. I was wondering what was going on in his mind. It’s … it’s damned scary. I think we can safely say we’re dealing with someone who’s alarmingly unbalanced …’

  The detective snorted. ‘Mad might be a simpler way of putting it.’

  ‘Well, maybe. But mad in a cold and purposeful way and I can’t help but think that’s … well, bloody terrifying, frankly.’

  ‘Yeah, quite,’ agreed Adam. ‘Well, the teams have found absolutely nothing here to help us work out what he’s going to do next, so we’d better have a look at that letter and see if we can see any clues. Did you check the quotation?’

  ‘No, sorry. With all that’s going on, I completely forgot. I’ll do it now.’

  He was interrupted by the plain-clothes man lumbering up the stairs towards them. ‘Mr Breen, Mr Breen …’ he panted.

  ‘Yes, John,’ said Adam, losing patience waiting for him to get his breath. ‘Come on man, what is it?’

  ‘A kid …’ he managed, between breaths. ‘A little girl … abducted. About an hour ago … in Plymouth … description of the man matches Gibson.’

  ‘Oh fuck,’ said Adam Breen quietly.

  Chapter Thirteen

  IT WAS THE BRIEFEST of calms. Adam clenched his fists, began barking orders.

  ‘John, get the description out to every cop and traffic warden and community support officer and military police and anyone else you can think of. I want everyone looking out for Gibson, the girl and whatever details you’ve got of the car. Then get onto the High Honchos and ask them for all the extra manpower they can raise. I want the helicopter too. Get the press office to issue an immediate media alert with the descriptions. Emphasise that the first few hours are vital in an abduction. If we don’t get her quickly, the chances of finding her alive plummet. I’ll work out what details of the crime we release in a while. Dan you’re part of that. Get your outside broadcast people ready. I want this on air as soon as you can manage.’

  He grabbed his phone. ‘I’ll have to divert them from coming here. Where shall I tell them to go? Where was she snatched?’

  ‘Widey

  Park Road

  in Peverell. We’ll set up a mobile incident unit there.’ Dan called Lizzie, explained what had happened. The phone buzzed with a gasp of pleasure. ‘Wow! Brilliant! What a story! Little girl abducted! How old was she?’

  Dan noted the use of the past tense. He winced, but didn’t bother saying anything. It was like trying to stand in the way of an avalanche. ‘She is – that’s IS – eight. Nine in a couple of days.’

  Another rattling sigh. ‘Great, real tear jerking age. Even better that it’s almost her birthday. Real pathos. Right, I want wall-to-wall coverage. I want a picture of her. I want tearful interviews with her parents. I want a description of the perve. I want the cops. I want it all live. It’s about time we had another cracking story. The ratings have been sagging a bit recently. This’ll pep them up. I knew it was a good idea of mine to let you go off with the police again.’

  ‘Of yours?’

  ‘Yep.’

  Dan didn’t argue, didn’t have time. ‘Can we flash it?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Do a newsflash. It’s quarter past ten. We’re not on air until half one. Seconds are vital in trying to save an abducted kid.’

  There was a pause on the line. ‘Well, I don’t know. Morning TV is pretty popular, and there are the advertisers to think of …’

  Dan was ready for that, had his counter-argument prepared. An unanswerable one too, if he knew his editor. ‘If we flash it we’d guarantee to be the ones to break the news,’ he interrupted. ‘It’ll be quite an exclusive to put in our entry to the Royal Television Society awards this year.’

  ‘Done. We’ll do a bit of you on the phone. I’ll get a graphic made up with a description of the girl. We’ll call you back in a min.’

  ‘Sure. Lizzie, can you just pass me on to one of the researchers a sec, I’ve got something I need to check.’

  When he finished the call he turned to Adam who was talking fast to the other detective, studying a map.

  ‘Don’t tell me,’ said Dan slowly. ‘The little girl’s name is Nicola.’

  Adam stared at him. ‘How the hell did you know that?’

  ‘Remember Gibson’s letter and that bit about the rose and Romeo and Juliet? The quotation is all about “what’s in a name?”’

  ‘And?’

  ‘There’s the other link between your victims. Sarah, Jane, Nicola. Your Chief Constable’s name. Sarah-Jane Nicola Hill is her full name, I believe? It’s just what I thought at the leisure centre last night. It’s another way of having a go at you, isn’t it? That’s why he took the job as the security guard, so he would meet some women whose names would fit his plan. He could get their addresses from the centre’s records too. So I’m assuming this Nicola also went to the leisure centre regularly.’

  ‘She did,’ said Adam. ‘Swimming lessons.’

  ‘So she would probably have known him and trusted him. And so got into his car …’

  ‘Without any fuss or fight,’ completed Adam. ‘He groomed her for abduction.’

  The three men looked at each other. ‘We sussed it too late,’ whispered Adam. ‘Again. A-bloody-gain.’

  ‘Shit, what a bastard,’ added John.

  Dan’s phone warbled. ‘You wanted it out on the media as soon as possible,’ he said to Adam. ‘This is the newsroom now. We’re going to flash it. What do I need to say?’

  ‘The description of Nicola, Gibson and what we’ve got of the car. That’s the important stuff. I want as many people looking out for them as possible. Not Gibson’s name yet though. Tell the viewers how important it is we fin
d them soon. Tell them if they see anything to call 999, but don’t approach the man. Don’t mention that we think he’s got a gun, just warn people to call us.’

  ‘OK.’ Dan answered the call. ‘Quick, Adam, give me the descriptions so we can make up a graphic.’

  ‘Coming to you in a couple of mins Dan,’ came Emma, the director’s voice, down the line.

  He took a series of deep breaths, tried to calm himself. It wasn’t the kind of story you wanted to make a mess of. Dan tried not to think that a little girl’s life might depend on what he was about to say. He massaged his aching ankle, concentrated on the message he needed to deliver.

  Emma’s voice again. ‘Thirty seconds, Dan, standby.’

  He felt Adam’s eyes on him, turned away, focused his thoughts. A prickling sweat was spreading up his back and the phone was trembling in his hand.

  ‘We interrupt this programme to bring you some breaking news,’ intoned Craig in his sternest voice. ‘A young girl has been abducted in Plymouth and the police are asking for urgent public help in finding her. Our crime correspondent Dan Groves is with the police investigation and joins us on the line now. Dan, what more do we know?’

  ‘Craig, the girl’s name is Nicola Reece. She was abducted just before nine o’clock this morning while on her way to school in the Peverell area of Plymouth. She’s described as about four and a half feet tall, with blonde hair, which she has in a ponytail. She was wearing her school uniform, a navy blue sweater with white blouse, a matching navy skirt, white knee socks and black shoes. She also had on a grey duffle coat. The man who abducted her is about five feet ten tall, with a lean build, in his late 30s with short, dark blond hair. There’s little detail of the car he abducted Nicola in, apart from that it was red and not new. The police are launching a major manhunt and they emphasise it’s vital that Nicola is found as soon as possible. They ask all members of the public to be on the lookout for her or the man and to call 999 immediately if they see anything. I repeat, call 999 but do not approach the man.’