Blood Lines

by Angela Marsons

  DCI Woodward had never worked out how to control that woman, even after managing her for a few years. He had worked it out in just a few short days: tell her what she wanted to hear, humour her.

  ‘Sir?’ Martha questioned.

  ‘Oh, ring local police and ask them to take a look and then send the address to Stone.’ He felt his lips turn up. ‘Woodward should get quite a surprise when his entire CID team turns up on the doorstep of his holiday home. Serves him right. He should have learned how to control his stray dog a little better.’

  Martha had picked up the phone, ready to dial. ‘What about the support team?’ she asked.

  He laughed. ‘On the back of what she just told me I wouldn’t send her two PCSOs and a special constable.’

  Martha looked at him questioningly.

  ‘That woman costs us a fortune every year. I’m not dispatching a support team on this wild goose chase. Her motive for the murders appears to be one step removed and she has no idea who she’s chasing. It’s going to be a lot of fuss over nothing and from Monday morning she will be Woodward’s problem again.’

  His assistant did not appear convinced. ‘But you told her—’

  ‘Martha. There’s nothing there. Stone has no more than a vague theory of a killer murdering the next of kin of his intended victim. It’s so thin I could pick my teeth with it.’

  He hesitated. No. He had made the right decision. He was happy with the instruction he had given.

  He returned to his office and closed the door. Preparation for the budget meeting next week still awaited him.

  Now that the inspector had been told everything she wanted to hear, he knew she would not be disturbing him again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

  Alex lay down on the bed. There was a sense of loss creeping over her.

  It wasn’t loss born of emotion, attachment or love. It was the kind of loss when you decide to get a new car. There is a sense of loss when you remember how the old car once made you feel.

  There was disappointment in knowing she would never see Kim Stone again and, as much as she enjoyed the relationship they had, her freedom must come first.

  Her lemons had turned into lemonade during the last few hours. So what if the photo was gone. The woman would barely have a chance to enjoy it. And although Ruth wasn’t dead, as she should have been, the woman was probably too terrified to speak out against her in an appeal. Good enough, she supposed.

  The only other obstacle to her freedom was the detective inspector. And that would be resolved soon enough.

  She felt the stirrings of a tear start somewhere close to her eyes.

  Was she going to cry for the loss of her dearest friend? She smiled and wiped at what appeared to have been an itch.

  Of course not. She was a sociopath and she only ever had tears for herself.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

  The squad car dispatched by Dyfed-Powys Police entered the site at 8.47 p.m.

  Both police officers wound down their windows and listened.

  ‘What exactly are we looking for again, Sarge?’ asked PC Jones.

  He shrugged. ‘Any activity around caravan twenty-seven. I don’t know. Some vague idea that someone might be looking for someone.’

  ‘Good job it’s a quiet night then, eh?’

  ‘Not for long.’

  PC Jones growled. It was Friday night and they were on countdown to the calls to the town centres. The local small towns were nothing like Cardiff or Swansea but if there was a pub or a club there was often trouble. It didn’t need to be real trouble or enemies or people fighting over something tangible. By the end of a heavy night two best friends could be kicking seven shades out of each other.

  ‘These are even numbers,’ PC Jones said as the sergeant brought the car to a halt and switched off the engine.

  They both listened and then looked at each other.

  ‘Job done?’ PC Jones asked.

  Sergeant Hunter opened his car door. ‘May as well just check the property while we’re here.’

  An occasional globe light offered basic illumination but the sergeant switched on his torch and shone it with sweeping movements left and right.

  PC Jones sighed behind him. Being sent on random excursions by other police forces was not the highlight of his night. If he was honest, he was spoiling for a scuffle.

  ‘This the one?’ Sergeant Hunter asked.

  He stepped forward and searched for the number. He nodded.

  The sergeant shone the torch around the facia of the caravan.

  No lights illuminated the inside. He walked the length of the caravan and shone his torch behind.

  PC Jones moved around the other side and bent down to shine his light beneath. Nothing but a couple of folded-up deck chairs and some old planters.

  ‘Nothing here, Sarge,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, we’ll just knock the door and then call it in.’

  PC Jones took the two metal steps to the doorway and knocked.

  The sound travelled through the silence of the caravan. PC Jones took a step back, marvelling at the futility of this exercise.

  He looked to the sergeant, who wrinkled his nose and shook his head.

  ‘Enough time-wasting. I’m thinking West Midlands called this one wrong.’

  He took out his radio and called it in as nothing to report.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

  Detective Chief Inspector Woodward was unable to move from his position on the floor.

  He had seen the torchlight pass over the windows. He had felt like crying with relief. He had no clue how anyone knew what was happening but he was just thankful that someone had come.

  He pulled again on the plastic ties that were available in every hardware store. They were colourful, cheap and nasty and they were also bloody strong.

  The one that tied his ankles together had also been looped around the leg of the cooker, and his hands were shackled behind his back. He knew noise carried from inside a caravan and tried to kick out so that whoever it was might hear him. Any small sound would alert them to his presence.

  Another torchlight shone through from the small bedroom at the back. Lissy’s room. The thought of her made him buck his body again like a demented worm.

  The sodden cloth wedged into his mouth prevented him from crying out.

  The torchlight dimmed.

  Don’t go, his mind was screaming. They have my grandchild. Please, don’t go.

  He still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened. Lissy had been watching a cartoon on the TV, and he had been cleaning away the supper dishes. He had only stepped outside to put the rubbish into the bin.

  The next thing he knew he woke to find himself gagged and bound.

  He strained against the ties once more as he pictured seven-year-old Lissy in her butterfly pyjamas. The only grandchild he would ever have. Everything to him since the death of his son.

  She had been taken and he was powerless to protect her. His dear sweet Lissy who had inherited her father’s passion and her grandmother’s grace. He saw them both every day in the child.

  They had grown even closer in the two years since his wife had passed. And on that day, when Marion had succumbed to her five-year cancer battle, Lissy had climbed onto his lap without speaking, snaked her arms around his neck and offered him the warmest and most comforting hug he could ever have wished for. His generous daughter-in-law enjoyed the special bond between Lissy and him and actively encouraged it. Outside of his work she was all he had left.

  He struggled to contain the emotion and again tried to break the ties.

  His body shook with frustration, rage and fear when he heard the car driving away.

  As the noise of the engine faded he knew he would never see his granddaughter again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

  Kim could feel herself growing frustrated at the speed. It felt as though they had been in the car for hours.

  Bryant had carefully negotiated the dark, winding narr
ow lanes to Bridgnorth. He had opened up towards Much Wenlock and then hit the traffic on the Shrewsbury ring road.

  Stacey was trying to track down Jason Cross, and Dawson was ringing Woody’s phone every few minutes.

  She was in the process of deciding how best to vent her frustration when her phone rang.

  ‘Stone,’ she answered.

  ‘Detective Inspector, it’s Martha. I have the address of the campsite. Are you ready?’

  Kim called to Stacey behind and then recited it as Martha read it to her.

  ‘Have the local force attended?’ Kim asked.

  ‘They confirm nothing to report,’ Martha answered.

  Kim shook her head. How hard had they looked?

  ‘Is there a team on the way?’ she asked.

  ‘I have carried out all of the superintendent’s instructions,’ Martha confirmed.

  ‘Thank you, Martha,’ Kim said.

  There was a pause.

  ‘Detective Inspector. Be careful,’ Martha said before ending the call.

  Kim frowned at the phone as she put it in her pocket. There was a tone to the conversation she couldn’t define. She shook her head. Her imagination was running riot with her.

  ‘Bryant, where the hell are we?’ she asked.

  ‘Just about to exit the Shrewsbury ring road,’ he answered.

  ‘Miles, Bryant?’

  ‘Twenty, twenty-five miles.’

  ‘Pull over,’ she said, unbuckling her seat belt.

  ‘Guv, seriously, not a good idea.’

  ‘Bryant pull over or I’m gonna move across and sit on your lap.’

  ‘Guv, I’m doing the speed limit. It’s not safe—’

  ‘Bryant, pull over now or you can tell that to Woody at his granddaughter’s funeral.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

  Woody saw the beam of headlights pass across the glass panel. The engine of a car died right outside. Car doors slammed together. He couldn’t tell how many. His first thought was that his earlier visitors had returned. He tried to think quickly as he strained at the ties. His head was only a few inches from the door. If he could bang his head against the glass whoever was outside might hear.

  He tried again, but the tie wraps around the leg of the cooker would not budge.

  ‘I’m here,’ he cried against the gag that caught and blocked every syllable.

  He didn’t care who it was as long as they could help him. Every moment took Lissy further away from him.

  He would never forgive himself if anything happened to her.

  A light shone around the windows again. He tried to follow it with his eyes to see where the person was going. Another torch shone through from the other side. The beams crossed each other in the darkness.

  Don’t give up so easily this time, he pleaded silently. I’m here and my grandchild is in danger.

  He heard a voice.

  More than one.

  There was an urgency in their tone that gave him sudden hope. If it was the same people that had been before maybe this time they knew something was wrong. All he needed was to be freed from these damn ties so he could go and find his granddaughter.

  Ironically, right now, there was only one person he wanted it to be but believing in miracles was not the behaviour of a detective chief inspector.

  And then he heard her voice.

  CHAPTER NINETY

  ‘Kev, I don’t care how the fuck you get me in there, just do it,’ Kim snapped.

  The caravan stood in total darkness, silent, until all four car doors had slammed shut. Lights were illuminating in other caravans but not in this one.

  Dawson kicked hard at the door, but it didn’t budge. Bryant stepped up beside him and they kicked it together, but nothing.

  Bryant sprinted back to the car and returned with a crowbar.

  He forced it between the door and the frame and prised it open.

  Kim shone her torch into the darkness. It landed on a banquette seating area on the opposite side of the space.

  She cast the light around.

  ‘Oh Jesus,’ she cried, as the light landed on the bound hands of her boss.

  She stepped inside and felt to her left. She clicked on the light switch and then fell to her knees.

  Her team filed into the caravan as she ripped the gag from Woody’s mouth.

  ‘Stone, how the hell—?’

  ‘Does he have her, sir?’ she asked urgently.

  Woody nodded, and only then did she see the blood seeping from behind his left ear.

  ‘Stace, you got a signal?’

  ‘Just about, boss.’

  ‘We need an ambulance here straightaway.’

  Dawson took a knife from the kitchen drawer and began cutting the ties.

  ‘What happened, sir?’ Kim asked.

  ‘Hit from behind,’ he said, trying to stand.

  Of course he had been. With Woody’s height and girth he would be a formidable opponent from the front.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ she said, putting her hand on his arm. ‘No disrespect, sir, but you can’t help us.’

  ‘Stone, get me out of these ties right now. My granddaughter—’

  ‘Sir, please. You’ve suffered a head injury. How long has Lissy been gone?’

  ‘Twenty minutes, maybe a little more.’

  She looked around. Until the backup team arrived it was just the four of them.

  Her options were limited.

  ‘Stacey, stay here with the DCI and put a chase on the support team. Call it in to the locals as well. They may be able to help.’

  ‘Got it, boss.’

  Dawson reached for some kitchen roll as Bryant helped the DCI to his feet.

  His bulk swayed but Bryant managed to hold him steady to the sofa.

  Kim thought quickly. The killer had not taken young Tommy far from the snatch point.

  ‘Right, Bryant, I want you knocking on every door you can find. If they’re still here, they’re not getting out. Use the residents to form a makeshift perimeter around the entrances and exits. They will know strangers on the site better than us.’

  She wondered whether the site had any level of CCTV but there was nobody spare to go and check. She needed backup right now.

  ‘Stone, I need to help find my granddaughter.’

  ‘Sir, please don’t make me restrain you,’ she said, only half seriously. ‘Now, can you tell me what Lissy is wearing?’

  ‘Butterfly pyjamas and pink furry slippers.’

  ‘Sir, you know the layout of this site, please brief the support team when they get here. We’ll need their help in conducting a search.’

  She turned to her colleague. ‘But for now, Kev, it’s just you and me.’

  CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

  From what Kim could work out the campsite was divided into two parts. The top half, nearest the main entrance, comprised caravans sitting side by side with a gravel road separating the rows.

  A single track tarmac road headed to a lower part of the site.

  ‘Where the hell are we going to start, boss,’ Dawson asked as they reached a fork in the tarmac road.

  The lighting was much less obvious around this part of the site. There were still globe lamps but the distance between them was much further.

  They had left behind the manicured lawns and the uniformity of equal spacing.

  They were now entering a vast area that contained log cabins built into banks and separated by thick, dense trees. All the dwellings appeared to be in darkness, making them more difficult to spot. The inquisitive chatter of the occupants at the top of the site had long since been left behind.

  ‘Boss, look to the left, over there.’

  Her eyes were still adjusting to the darkness, but the moon had peeked out a quarter to light up a dense wooded area at the bottom of the road.

  The site owner had mentioned a lake to the right of the woods

  Kim could see that the fork in the road took a circular route to the same place at the edge o
f the woods.

  ‘Okay, Kev, you go right and I’ll go left, and we should meet somewhere in the woods.’

  ‘Boss, for safety, shouldn’t we stick together?’

  ‘He already has too much of a head start,’ Kim said. ‘And don’t forget to shine your torch all the way around the lake. Remember what she was wearing?’

  Dawson swallowed and nodded. It was a thought neither of them wanted to entertain, but a child had been murdered and they might already be too late for Lissy.

  They turned and headed off in different directions.

  Each step forward took her further into the darkness. She shone her torch left and right and all around her. The road cut through cabins on either side. To her left they were cut into a gently sloping bank. To her right they were surrounded by trees, their frontages looking on to the lake.

  Kim paused as something darted past her feet. She hunted it with a torch until she found the white tail of a rabbit disappearing into a row of dense green laurels.

  She continued heading towards the woods. Every instinct in her wanted to run but a seven-year-old girl could be anywhere, lying injured or worse.

  The last cabin on the edge of the woods had a double lantern that illuminated the entrance into the trees. Kim knew that once she stepped into the opening she would have only her torch.

  She swung it around her feet as something made a noise on the debris of dried twigs.

  A tree branch slapped her around the face. She smacked it away angrily.

  She was following the trodden path through the middle of the woods but she was aware that there were searchable areas on both sides.

  An owl sounded its warning from somewhere above, and Kim cursed out loud.

  Jesus, give her the West Midlands any day. The Black Country didn’t offer a lot of nature which, for Kim, was a good thing. It was nowhere near as frightening as the countryside.

  Kim felt something soft beneath her foot. For a brief second she wondered if she’d stepped on a rabbit. She shone the torch down expecting to see a pair of ears and a fluffy tail.

  She gasped when she saw that it was much, much worse.