Angel

by Anita Waller

  The doctor nodded.

  ‘I understand, but don’t be too hopeful. She’s traumatised and she could be a while before she says anything. You go; we’ll look after her, DI Dunbar.’

  It took him twenty-five minutes to reach the house. It was situated in the middle of a field; set well back from the road and reasonably well looked after. Dunbar left his car on the road and ducked under the crime scene tape already ringing the entire property. He scrunched his way up a gravel path that had wheel ruts either side of it and reflected how smart it was of Treverick to have the laid the gravel path – he would have heard anyone approaching.

  He reached the house. With daylight starting to fade, the arc lights had been switched on. They lit up the exterior white walls of the house, giving off a glare painful to his eyes. He blinked and went round to the back of the property. He saw the broken window first, and then the bloodied child-size handprint on the wall. Confirmation, that was all he had needed.

  Anger swept over him, indescribable anger, and if Treverick had been there ... He thought about the Farmers, a young couple having their first child and having her snatched away before she was a day old. He hunkered down and forced his breathing to slow down. He had never been in favour of the death penalty, too many mistakes had been made, but in Treverick’s case, there was no mistake. This man should have died when he was first shot all those years ago.

  ‘Sir?’

  He stood and turned to face DC Johnson, the young detective constable who had been on the case from the onset of Angel’s reappearance.

  ‘I want to kill him, Andy. I want to fucking kill him, so help me.’

  Andy Johnson nodded.

  ‘We all do, sir. Two things – how is Angel and do you want to go inside? If you do want to go in, SOCO ask that you go in through the front door and get fully suited up. They’re going to be here a while.’

  ‘Angel is progressing. She’s awake but not speaking, unless Sarah can get anything out of her and yes, I do want to go inside. Is that my suit?’

  He followed Andy round to the front of the house and spoke quietly to him.

  ‘DC Johnson, I want to put something to you. I want you to be in charge of protection duties for Angel. She’s Angel whilst she’s in hospital. I realise it’s not strictly detective work, but right now I suspect it’s the most important job on the force. It will mean a lot of sitting around all day and every day but the bastard’s out there and I need someone I can trust. Say no if you’d rather stay out in the field.’

  Johnson looked at Dunbar.

  ‘Give me fifteen minutes to get there, sir. Send me my rota when you’ve worked it out. I’ll be okay going through tonight and tomorrow but I’ll need relieving tomorrow night. Nobody will go in who shouldn’t be in. Don’t forget I’ve seen that room upstairs.’

  Dunbar shook the young DC’s hand, then put on the white coveralls and boots before going through the front door. He was in a small entrance hall with a room off to the right that looked to be a lounge. To the left, was a similar reception room. Stairs faced him and just beyond the stairs was a door that led to the kitchen and the back door. He climbed to the upper floor and was met at the top by someone wearing an exact replica of his own outer garments.

  ‘DI Dunbar, this is the child’s room.’ He indicated a room off to the right and Dunbar opened the door with gloved hands. The stench was quite overpowering. There were two buckets by the bed, one full of urine and the other excrement and toilet paper. A half used toilet roll was under the metal bed frame. Attached to the bed frame was a chain, soldered to the bed at one end and with a locking handcuff at the other. The chain was short and would only have allowed Angel to reach a bucket, and no further. With the bed on the opposite wall to the window, she would not have been able to see out, and nobody would ever have seen her.

  ‘Have photographs been taken?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. This room has been processed. We’ve moved on to the other bedroom now.’

  Dunbar looked around the room and prayed that Treverick would die before this ever had to come to trial. He could not imagine the reactions of Pilot and Lauren to the pictures that would have to be shown in court of the circumstances under which their daughter had spent the first seven years of her life.

  He moved on to the second bedroom. It held a double bed, the bedding in the process of being removed for forensic examination. It was filthy. This was a much bigger bedroom and had an ensuite facility. It was very different to the ensuite facilities he had provided for his young guest.

  He stayed for quite a while on the upstairs level, memorising everything, setting the details into his mind.

  When he returned downstairs, he looked around once more, writing things down and committing visually to memory. In the kitchen, there was still a chair placed in front of the sink unit; Grace had clearly used it to get to the window prior to smashing it. There was blood on the window-sill and blood on the floor outside the house, as well as the clear handprint on the wall. He couldn’t begin to imagine how frightened the little girl must have been.

  ‘Sir!’ He turned as he heard someone shout for him. ‘Sir, we think we’ve found the shed where she stayed that first night. It’s about a mile and a half from here, over in that direction.’ The officer pointed across the fields at the back of the house.

  ‘Someone has just rung in to say they’ve just been in their shed and there’s blood on the chair, on a cushion and on the floor. We’ve sent someone to take a look, sir.’

  Dunbar nodded.

  ‘Give me the address, I’ll go there now.’

  He realised what a remarkable young lady Grace was; from the amount of blood on the floor alone, she must have been bleeding quite heavily. It had been a cold night with temperatures barely above freezing and she really couldn’t have slept much. He thanked God that she had shown sense the next day and gone to the Wainwrights for help.

  He looked around the small shed, careful to touch nothing. The 8’ x 6’ building was now surrounded by crime scene tape. He realised the evidence collected here would have no direct link to Treverick but his mantra of leaving no stone unturned had served him well over the years. The shed would be thoroughly checked.

  He decided to go over to the Wainwright’s house the following day. They had already given a statement but he wanted to see them himself. He got into his car and set off for Hillside Cottage.

  Chapter 9

  The two officers sat patiently in the police car at the bottom of the Farmer drive. As Dunbar stopped to speak to them, he saw the headlights of a car, a Lexus, heading towards him. He waved at the occupants, and David pulled up just behind the police car.

  ‘Do you need us?’ David asked. ‘Is there news?’

  ‘It might be handy if you went back to Pilot’s – I can tell everyone at the same time. Are Ken and Brenda still there?’

  David nodded. ‘Yes and loving being looked after.’

  Dunbar smiled. ‘Good. This has been hanging over Brenda for most of her life. Let’s hope we can give her some peace in her life at the latter end of it.’

  ‘You’ve found him?’ David was quick to ask the question.

  ‘No. He’s running. But go back to Hillside and I’ll fill you all in on what has been quite a busy day. Just don’t let your guard down, any of you.’

  He bent to see who was in the back of the car and smiled.

  ‘Welcome home, you two. It’s good to see you both again. You here to stay this time?’

  Dawn laughed. ‘No. We have our life in St. Louis now. But we’re here for a while. We don’t really know how long, yet.’

  ‘I’ll see you all up at the house. Thank you, David,’ and Dunbar climbed back into his own car. He headed up the drive, leaving the Lexus to do a three-point turn on a very small lane, before driving back up the drive it had just been driven down.

  He stood with his back to the fireplace, now just holding dying embers. He felt sick that he didn’t have better news for the ex
pectant faces in front of him; he began to speak.

  ‘We’ve found the house in which Grace was kept.’ Dunbar cast his eye around the room. ‘It was nothing like the home she should have had.’

  Pilot took hold of Lauren’s hand.

  ‘It was a small detached property with no immediate neighbours. He chose well. It seems that Grace never went outdoors.’ He paused for a moment, not wanting to go on but knowing that they had to hear it from him. ‘She lived her entire seven years in the tiny back bedroom of the house, and was constantly chained to the bed when he wasn’t there.’

  Again he paused, giving them chance to digest his words. ‘The bedroom was filthy. There were two buckets, one full of urine and one full of excrement. He clearly didn’t empty them very often. I’m sorry to have to be so graphic but it’s better you hear it from me than hear it for the first time in court. Because we will get him, I promise you that.’

  Lauren was sobbing and Pilot held her tightly. He couldn’t cry. He could only store the anger that he hoped to use one day.

  ‘There was no lock on the bedroom door. I should imagine she never even tried to get out of the bedroom, not until that final day. We found the broken window she escaped from and she ran across the fields at the back of the house. She just ran. You have to remember she did not know where she was, and she spent the first night in a shed that wasn’t locked. We have found that shed. There was a fair bit of blood in it. The next day she ran again and fortunately went to the Wainwright’s door.’

  Lauren’s tear ravaged face lifted and she looked at him.

  ‘How is she now? Does she know anything of us yet?’

  ‘She is starting to come round now. Sarah is with her but there has been no communication as yet. In fact, we have had nothing from her. The only reason we know what happened is because she told the Wainwrights. They didn’t have the restrictions that have been placed on us. They questioned her and she answered. We can’t do that because if she is ever to recover from the appalling events that have happened so far in her young life, she has to be treated with kid gloves.’

  Everyone started to talk at once and Dunbar held up a hand. ‘Whoa! I have told you everything I can. Anything else that there may be I cannot tell you. Don’t forget this will go to court one day and we don’t want any technicalities getting him released. One day you will know the full story and you’ll all be able to move on. To be perfectly honest, we’re only at the very beginning of this investigation and we know very little ourselves. Make sure you’re always safe, don’t go anywhere on your own and we’ll get through it. What I will say is that Grace showed bravery that no seven year old should ever have to show. You should be very proud of your little girl, very proud indeed. For now, we have to leave her with the medical profession but they’ll get her back to you as soon as they can.’

  Everyone accepted this. They followed Dunbar out, waved him off and went back into the house.

  Pilot offered all their remaining visitors a drink but David said they would head off home again. They needed to digest what they had heard and get some sleep. The Hillside residents watched the car disappear down the drive then went back inside, locking the door behind them.

  Pilot said good night to Alan, once more on night duty, and headed for the stairs. He paused on the landing and looked out across the fields towards Stonebrook, a sight that in the past had always comforted him. Ken and Brenda had played a large part in his own life.

  The telephone rang at the same time as he registered the blue flashing lights.

  He ran into the master bedroom and snatched up the receiver. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Pilot, it’s Jake. Stonebrook is on fire. Do not move from that house. Make sure every window and every door is locked. I’ve despatched two cars to give you additional protection. Go and tell Carter’s man.’

  ‘I’ll ring Dad. Jake ... is it bad?’

  ‘I think so. There are three engines here now. It’s not just the house, it’s the outbuildings, everything. Malcolm is here, he rang it in, saw the blaze from his own place. I’ve spoken with him and he’s safe. I should have kept the surveillance on here. I should have...’

  Pilot interrupted him. ‘There’s nothing there to protect, Jake. It’s just a house, no contents – they’re all in my garage – no people because Ken and Brenda are here and Malcolm doesn’t live on the premises. He’s got his own family home.’

  Pilot felt sick. They had never even considered for a minute that Malcolm, the man who had started work at Stonebrook when he was only sixteen, could be in any danger. Even if he wasn’t, he was angry with himself for not having thought about it.

  ‘Go ring your Dad, Pilot. Do not come over here. Leave this to the professionals.’

  Pilot put down the receiver and turned to go out of the bedroom. His way was blocked by Lauren, Ken and Brenda.

  Ken spoke.

  ‘It’s Stonebrook, isn’t it? We can see flames and blue lights.’

  Pilot nodded. ‘It’s everything, Ken. The house, the outbuildings, everything. Malcolm...’

  ‘Malcolm?’ For the first time, Brenda looked terrified.

  ‘Malcolm is fine, Brenda. Don’t worry. He saw the flames first, rang it in and then went to see what he could do. He’s there at the moment but I think Jake will be sending him home any time now. There’s nothing we can do. So let’s try and get some sleep, we’ll deal with it all tomorrow.’

  Emotions were mixed as they tried to follow Pilot’s instructions. They all knew sleep wouldn’t come easy. Ken put his arm around Brenda and together they went back to their room; they had no idea what would confront them but they were together.

  Pilot went back downstairs to tell Alan but he was already on the phone to his boss. His face was creased in concentration, his foot tapping in anger. He had started to get to know this family and they didn’t deserve this.

  ‘Thanks, Mark,’ Pilot heard him say. ‘They are all safe here. Ring me if you need me to do anything else.’

  Chapter 10

  There was a heavy police presence next morning as they all assembled at Stonebrook. The cottage itself had taken the worst hit – it would need demolishing and rebuilding. Astonishingly the outbuildings from the outside didn’t look too bad. Malcolm held Brenda’s hand as they looked at what had been her home for so many years, first with Jack and then with Ken.

  ‘I’m so sorry I couldn’t save it for you,’ he said to his employer. ‘So sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Malcolm! It’s just a building. Nobody was hurt and he didn’t know we had already moved everything out just a few hours earlier.’

  ‘He?’

  Malcolm was clearly puzzled and she initially thought to laugh off her words by saying nobody thought of arsonists as female but then thought better of it.

  ‘We’re pretty certain it’s Treverick, Malcolm. You have to be aware. I don’t think you and your family are in immediate danger – I think it’s me and mine he has the issue with, but just be careful.’

  Ken walked towards them. He had been to inspect as much as the fire service would allow him to inspect and his face was grim.

  ‘We have to take it off the market, Bren. There’s no way the Barkers will want it now. We’ve decisions to make about what to do.’

  ‘We’ll talk about it when we get home,’ she said. ‘We can’t make any judgment calls while we’re here. Our first issue is sorting out the insurance. Then we’ll know where we stand.’

  Lauren heard her say home, and knew she was referring to Hillside. She breathed a sigh of relief. She needed Ken and Brenda close to her. She thanked God for the bullying tactics she had used with the removals firm to get them to move everything that day; Brenda still had her treasured possessions including the blue flowered chair decorated by Amy at the start of her furniture restoring career.

  They all walked back to Hillside together, taking their time, allowing for Brenda and Ken’s advanced years. The burnt-out cottage had shaken them all but Lauren suspected
that in Ken’s case it was the sight of the ruined crops and flowers that had upset him the most.

  He clung to Brenda almost ferociously. His mind was clearly racing along the lines of what if ... what if they hadn’t moved to Hillside, what if they hadn’t moved everything out, what if the Barkers had already been in residence. He was more scared than he cared to admit.

  Freda joined them later. She had been to visit a friend in Looe and when they had managed to get hold of her, it was much too late for her to return. She had driven straight to them that morning without going home first. Freda was now almost ninety and still wore the tweeds and brogues that had been part of her for so many years. Her strident voice cut through many a conversation and as she walked into the house, she was cleaning her glasses.

  ‘We’re running scared,’ she said as she entered the lounge. Her stocky figure stopped and she looked around at everyone. ‘What on earth are we playing at letting that little turd dictate our lives? ‘

  Brenda laughed. ‘I knew everything would look better when you arrived. Freda, the man is a maniac. He’s not dictating our lives, but we have to respect the fact that we have no idea what he looks like, where he is, what he’s planning next.’

  ‘Huh!’ She said. ‘Is there anything left of Stonebrook?’

  ‘Very little of the house. The business is still there or will be after some new planting, the outbuildings seem ok – I don’t think they’d got going properly before the fire brigade arrived but the house had. Ken is going to ring the Barkers later and explain that we’re not going ahead with the sale. For the moment we’re staying here.’

  Lauren interrupted.

  ‘And we would like you to stay here as well, Aunt Freda. You’re no safer than we are. The police, as far as I know, haven’t allocated protection to you so we need to do it. And the safest place is here.’