Broadland

by David Blake

  ‘Have you ever lost someone you love, Detective Inspector?’

  The question flashed images into Tanner’s mind.

  ‘Your daughter, perhaps?’

  How the hell did she know about her?

  ‘You know, personally, I think Jenny here looks just like her, your daughter I mean. Don’t you think?’

  She must have been doing her own background research, thought Tanner. Probably about all of them. But he wasn’t going to let her play mind games with him.

  ‘This isn’t about me, Miss Follett. And as I said before, we’re not here for you. Our colleague behind me is seriously injured. We need to get him to a hospital. So if you let us go, we’ll be able to forget all about this.’

  Ignoring him, Susan said, ‘I see you’ve met my children. Aren’t they just adorable?’

  Adorable wasn’t exactly the word Tanner would have used to describe them, but this was hardly the time to disagree.

  ‘They certainly are, Miss Follett. Now, if you put the knife down, there’ll be no more harm done, and we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘I’m not stupid, you know!’

  ‘I never said you were.’

  ‘Just because I’m a receptionist, and not some arrogant over-paid doctor.’

  ‘Again, I never said that. I’m sorry if I said anything that may have given you that impression.’

  ‘If anyone around here is stupid, it’s you!’ she continued. ‘You didn’t think for a single moment that it could be me who’d killed those women. I was even willing to show you pictures of my first-born, the one I took from Simon’s so-called wife, but you didn’t have the professional good sense to look.’

  ‘Those things over there, Miss Follett,’ began Tanner, pointing down at the row of cots standing between them. ‘You do know that they’re dead, don’t you?’

  Through a malicious snarl, she said, ‘How dare you say that about my babies!’

  ‘And another thing,’ said Tanner. ‘They’re not yours!’

  Susan Follett paused for a moment, before a wide, malicious grin stretched out over her round face.

  ‘Finders keepers!’ she eventually said. ‘Besides, God didn’t want those woman to have children.’

  ‘I see,’ said Tanner. ‘And he told you that himself, did he?’

  ‘Don’t mock me, Detective!’ she demanded, bringing the knife hard up against Jenny’s throat, so much so that the blade began to dig into her skin. ‘If God had wanted them to have children, he’d have blessed them naturally, not forced them to have IVF treatment.’

  ‘But wasn’t it God’s fault that Simon was a homosexual? That was the reason why he dumped you, wasn’t it? Because he fancied men, not you!’

  ‘You’re even more stupid than I thought!’ she stated. ‘Simon isn’t gay! He only said that to get out of having to spend the rest of his life in prison. It’s a shame you didn’t see through it, though. If you’d charged him like you were supposed to, I wouldn’t have had to kill that other woman.’

  ‘What about Simon?’ questioned Tanner. ‘What did he do to deserve it?’

  ‘He dumped me! That’s what he did! And just two days before we were going to get married. And if that wasn’t bad enough, five years later he waltzes into my clinic with that over-dressed tart of a wife hanging off his arm, and he doesn’t even fucking recognise me! Oh, I can assure you, he more than deserves to be locked up. As far as I’m concerned, they can throw away the key.’

  ‘That’s as maybe, Miss Follett, but did he really deserve to die?’

  Tanner watched as a cloud of confusion descended over Susan’s face. As it did, the knife she’d been holding up against Jenny’s throat dropped down slightly.

  ‘Why would you say that - that he didn’t deserve to die?’

  With the sudden realisation that not only must it have been someone else who’d killed Richardson, but that this deranged woman standing before him didn’t know he was dead, he had an unexpected new card in his hand, and he didn’t waste a moment putting it into play.

  ‘Haven’t you heard?’ he began, as he started to edge his way around the cots towards her. ‘Simon’s dead!’

  Dragging Jenny back, with narrowing eyes, Susan glared at him.

  ‘You’re lying!’

  ‘I can assure you, Miss Follett, that I’m not! Jenny and I found his body this afternoon, lying in a pool of blood in his kitchen, just after we left you at Buxton Manor.’

  ‘I’m sorry, detective, but I don’t believe you.’

  ‘It’s true, Miss Follett. Someone beat him over the head to such an extent that by the time we found him, there was nothing left of his face but an unrecognizable mess of blood and bone. It’s all over the news!’

  ‘But…why would anyone want to hurt Simon?’

  ‘Probably because you made the entire population think that he was a psycho nut-job who’d not only killed his wife, but Emily Harris as well!’

  ‘I only killed that bitch of a wife of his to make him pay for what he’d done to me! And that other one would’ve been fine if you’d locked him up like you were supposed to!’

  ‘Either way, Miss Follett, Simon is dead! And he is because of what you started!’

  As it began to sink in that someone had killed her ex-fiancé, a man she was evidently still desperately in love with, tears began to fill up her eyes. ‘No, Detective Inspector. His blood is on your hands, not mine!’

  With Jenny’s eye’s widening with fear, Susan gripped the knife so hard that her knuckles turned white. As she yanked Jenny’s head back again, with a demonic grin, she whispered, ‘And now I’m going to make you pay!’

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  SENSING WHAT SHE was about to do, Tanner launched himself at her with a primal yell.

  Time seemed to expand into a never-ending single moment.

  He watched as Jenny’s cheeks flushed.

  Her eyelids closed as she blinked, the tears behind them spilling out onto her cheeks.

  The deranged receptionist had begun to draw the blade over her throat.

  Seeing Tanner approach, Susan took an instinctive step away from him. But there was nothing for her to step on to.

  As they’d been talking, Tanner had been steadily steering her towards the gaping black hole in the floor.

  Losing her balance, she let go of the knife, trying to grab hold of Jenny instead.

  But Tanner got to her first.

  Taking hold of an outstretched arm, he heaved her back from the brink, leaving Susan to fall through the hole, tumbling on to the top of the stairs before going over the side to land hard on the floor, some ten feet below.

  Realising she was safe, Jenny began to sob, openly and unashamedly.

  With one hand on her shoulder, Tanner stared deep into her eyes, a look of anxious torment stretched out over his face.

  Seeing his concern, she tried to reassure him by saying, ‘I’m OK! I’m OK!’

  But Tanner wasn’t looking at her face anymore. He was staring just below it.

  With all that had happened, Jenny hadn’t felt the razor-sharp blade of Susan’s knife as it was drawn over her neck, opening up her jugular vein, out of which blood as black as the night was now cascading.

  Seeing where he was looking, she placed her hand where Susan’s knife had been. Feeling the sticky warmth of her blood pouring over her hand, with the smell of iron thick in her mouth, she lifted it up to stare.

  As realisation hit her, her legs buckled, snapping Tanner out of his hypnotic state.

  He dropped his phone, the torch light went out, and the mill was plunged into darkness, all but for the delicate light of a rising moon, glancing in through the mill’s narrow upstairs window.

  In one swift movement, he dragged her over to the nearest wall, propping her up against it.

  As she stared up at him, he threw off his coat and jacket.

  Ripping the buttons from his shirt, he tore it off, wadded it up, and pushed it against the open wound.

  W
atching as she held it in place, with tears filling up his own eyes, he stared down at her and said, ‘Don’t you worry, Jenny, you’re going to be OK!’

  With just the flicker of a smile, she looked deep into his eyes and asked, ‘Promise?’

  Bundling her up in his arms, in one swift movement he got to his feet, and as he began carrying her towards the stairs, he looked down at her again. ‘I promise!’

  CHAPTER FIFTY ONE

  GRATEFUL FOR THE moonlight, as quickly as he dared, Tanner carried Jenny down the staircase.

  There was no sign of Susan Follett, neither there nor on the floor beneath, but at that time he hardly cared. His only interest was in getting Jenny safely down without falling.

  Reaching the lower level, he raced over to the door, prised it open with his foot, and ran out to the river, just in time to see the patrol boat Jenny had called earlier begin mooring up alongside the old wooden jetty.

  Breathing hard, he sprinted over to them, calling out, ‘I’VE GOT A WOUNDED OFFICER HERE!’

  One of the uniformed men inside the boat leapt out to help him, whilst the other dived inside the small cockpit to retrieve the first aid kit.

  With Jenny still cradled in his arms, Tanner sank to his knees, telling the first officer, ‘It’s her neck. It’s been cut.’

  But it was obvious where the wound was. The shirt Tanner had used to staunch the flow of blood was heavily stained.

  Joining them on the jetty, the second officer wasted no time in pulling a large dressing pad out from the first aid kit and tearing it open. When it was ready, with Tanner supporting Jenny’s head, in one swift movement the first officer removed the shirt as the second officer replaced it with the dressing pad. As he held it in place, the first officer found a roll of gauze and began winding it around her neck, so holding the pad in place.

  A single blast of a siren shattered the stillness of the night.

  A police car had entered the carpark on the other side of the river, its flashing blue lights ricocheting off the mill behind them. The first officer glanced up at Tanner and said, ‘She must have lost a lot of blood. We need to get her to a hospital. If you can carry her to the boat, we’ll take her to the other side. The squad car can take her from there.’

  Tanner was desperate to stay with her, but remembering that Burgess was still inside the mill, and was possibly still alive, putting his professional responsibilities before his personal feelings for Jenny, he said, ‘OK, but as soon as she’s in the squad car, I need you back here.’

  Before handing her into the boat, Tanner took a moment to look down at Jenny’s face. Alarmed to see her eyes were closed and that her skin was as white as the moon, and hoping to God she hadn’t slipped away whilst they’d been bandaging her neck, he said, ‘Jen!’

  With a huge surge of relief, he saw her eyes flutter open.

  ‘We’ve stopped the blood, Jen, and we’re taking you to a hospital. You’re going to be OK!’

  But although the corners of her mouth turned upwards in response, it was clear that she was far from being OK.

  ‘Quick, take her!’ he said, passing her over.

  As the two police officers lifted her into the boat, Tanner stood up and faced the other side of the river. Seeing Cooper standing there with the two police officers who’d just arrived in the car, he called out, ‘Jenny’s coming over in the patrol boat. She needs urgent medical attention!’

  Cooper yelled back, ‘We’ll take her to Wroxham Medical Centre. It’s not far.’

  ‘OK, but get the squad car to take her. I need you over here. Burgess is still inside. He’s been badly hurt, and I’m going to need help getting him down.’

  As the patrol boat left the jetty heading for the far bank, Cooper asked, ‘What about Susan Follett?’

  Tanner paused for a moment, before saying, ‘I think she’s still inside as well.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY TWO

  WITHOUT WAITING TO see the patrol boat reach the other side, Tanner turned and ran back towards the mill.

  Standing outside the still open door, he pushed it inwards with his foot to peer into the cold, silent interior. Without his phone, he couldn’t see as much as before, but the light from the moon flooding in through a small window to his right was enough for him to have a good look around.

  There was no sign of Susan Follett that he could see, but for all he knew she’d retrieved her knife and was lying in wait for him.

  After straining both his eyes and ears for another couple of seconds, unable to see or hear anything, he was about to go in when he remembered that he’d not looked behind the door. But he had neither the inclination, nor the courage, to do so now. Instead, he slammed it back until the inside handle hit the wall behind it.

  There wasn’t room for anyone to hide there; certainly not Susan Follett.

  Without wasting another moment, he launched himself inside, bounded up the stairs, past the cots with their putrid remains, and over to where he’d left his fallen colleague.

  Dropping to his knees, he looked down at where Burgess sat.

  His head had rolled forward, and his eyes were staring vacantly down at his lap.

  With one hand, Tanner lifted his head up, using two fingers of the other to push up against the side of his neck.

  His skin felt cold and loose. There was no sign of a pulse.

  ‘Burgess!’ he called, turning his head around so that he could stare into his eyes. But although open, there was nobody inside looking back at him.

  Tanner stared down at where he’d been stabbed. Burgess’s hand wasn’t resting over the wound anymore. Instead it lay upturned in a dark pool of blood on the floor beside him. Held loosely in the palm of the hand was Tanner’s rolled up blood-soaked tie.

  Tanner placed his index finger against his wrist.

  Nothing.

  From downstairs he heard Cooper calling out, ‘Hello! Tanner? Are you in here?’

  ‘I’m upstairs,’ he shouted, but his voice lacked the urgency of before. Although he’d need to wait for a medical expert to confirm it, by that time Tanner knew that Burgess was dead.

  CHAPTER FIFTY THREE

  THE SOUND OF Cooper’s footsteps clattering up the windmill’s wooden stairs was soon followed by more. Glancing over his shoulder, Tanner saw Cooper had been followed by the two uniformed policemen from the patrol boat.

  As the three of them picked their way past the macabre cots, using their torches to stare briefly into each as they passed, Tanner stood up to take a step away from Burgess’s crumpled body.

  Cooper shone his phone’s torch down at Burgess, propped up against the wall, still staring at his own outstretched legs.

  ‘Is he…?’ Cooper began, but didn’t finish. He didn’t have to. They all knew what he’d been about to ask.

  Before answering, Tanner hesitated. Although every fibre of his being declared that Burgess was dead, he didn’t want to say so. Not out loud. Doing so would only make it seem more real. There were also more practical matters to consider if he was – that this had become yet another murder scene, and any attempts made to help him would only serve to contaminate the physical evidence. Tanner knew who’d done it, there was no question about that, but he hadn’t witnessed her do so. Consequently, a jury would need as much physical evidence as possible to secure a conviction of first degree murder.

  Hearing the distant wail of an ambulance approach, searching for words, Tanner eventually said, ‘I-I don’t know. He was stabbed. I plugged the wound, as best I could, but…’

  The uniformed policeman knelt down beside Burgess’s body. Without touching him, he leant over, and using his torch, shone the light directly into Burgess’s eyes. After withdrawing the beam he waited, just for a moment, before shining it back.

  ‘There’s no pupil dilation,’ he said.

  Using the torch again, he looked first at the wound, then at the upturned hand, still loosely holding Tanner’s rolled-up tie.

  ‘I’d say it’s probably best we wait
for the ambulance,’ he eventually said. ‘The external bleeding looks as if it’s stopped, but with a stab wound, the internal bleeding will be significant. If we were to move him, it would probably only make it worse.’

  After shining his torch once more into Burgess’s face, he looked up at Tanner and said, ‘But if I was to be honest with you, I’d say we’re too late.’

  CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR

  BY THE TIME Tanner retrieved his jacket and his phone and emerged from the mill, a number of vehicles had arrived on the other side of the river, including two squad cars and an ambulance.

  With flashing blue lights dancing over the surface of the river, Tanner watched as two paramedics and a number of other police personnel were ferried over by a patrol boat driver, one of them he recognised as being DCI Barrington.

  Approaching the jetty to meet him, after waiting for the paramedics to climb out, Tanner watched as Barrington stepped off the boat saying, ‘I heard the news. How’s Burgess?’

  ‘It’s not good, I’m afraid, sir.’

  ‘Not good as in…?’

  Tanner didn’t answer him directly, but instead said, ‘We’re going to have to get the whole area cordoned off.’

  ‘Shit!’ said Barrington.

  The moment he said it, he remembered his position, and that he had to be more respectful. So he quickly added, ‘I am deeply sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Me too, sir,’ replied Tanner. ‘We may not have seen eye to eye all the time, but he certainly didn’t deserve that.’

  ‘No,’ agreed Barrington.

  Taking a nervous breath, Tanner asked, ‘Any news of Jenny, sir?’

  ‘Nothing yet. All I’ve heard is that she’s been taken to Wroxham Medical Centre. That’s about it.’

  As Barrington stared up at Fen Marsh Mill, he asked, ‘What about Susan Follett?’