A Cold Grave: A DCI Danny Flint Book

by Negus, Trevor

  ‘Understood. Thanks for getting everything ready.’

  She turned to Tania and said, ‘Are you ready, Tania?’

  Tania had her arms folded tightly across her chest. She nodded but continued to look down at her feet.

  Rachel put a comforting arm around the nervous mother and guided her into the mortuary.

  Stewart closed the front door and said, ‘I’ll leave you to it. I’ll be right outside the identification room. Just call me when you’re ready to leave.’

  Rachel nodded before opening the door to the identification room.

  The room was softly lit. In the centre of the room, there was a single bench. On this bench was the body of Evan Jenkins. The body had been totally covered by a purple-coloured velvet sheet.

  ‘Okay, Tania?’

  Tania nodded. She couldn’t find any words and was barely able to take her eyes off the small figure lying beneath the sheet.

  Very carefully, Rachel peeled back the velvet sheet, so that just the face of Evan Jenkins was exposed.

  The coroner’s officer had done his best to lessen the shock. He had combed the hair of the boy’s fringe forward to cover the scars from the post-mortem examination. However, even with Stewart Henson’s best efforts, the condition of the boy’s face was horrific. The days of being exposed to the elements, scavenging animals and birds had all taken their toll on the youngster’s features.

  Rachel was standing right alongside Tania Jenkins, and she grabbed her as soon as she noticed her knees buckle.

  Just in time, she prevented the young mother from falling to the floor.

  With Rachel supporting her, Tania quickly regained some composure. Staring at her boy’s distorted features, she began to weep quietly.

  She held a hand out towards Evan’s almost unrecognisable face, but stopped short of actually touching him.

  Between sobs, she said softly, ‘My beautiful baby boy, I’m so sorry. I should never have let them take you away from me. I just wanted to see you and tell you that I’ll always love you. I’m so sorry, sweetheart.’

  Rachel continued to hold and support her. She said in a voice that was little more than a whisper, ‘Are you okay, Tania? Are you ready to go now?’

  Tania nodded and turned away from the remains of her once-beautiful child.

  Rachel opened the door, continuing to support Tania as she left the room.

  In silence, she passed Stewart and walked straight to the exit door.

  At the door, Rachel turned to Stewart and said, ‘Thanks for arranging everything. I’m going to take Tania home. I haven’t been able to replace the cover.’

  Stewart nodded and stepped into the identification room; he now had the task of returning the body of Evan Jenkins to the refrigerated drawers.

  Rachel opened the door of the mortuary for Tania and said, ‘Come on, Tania, let’s get you home.’

  Tania remained where she was, rooted to the spot. She gripped Rachel’s hand tightly and said, in a trembling voice, ‘Detective, do you think you’ll ever catch the people who did that to my boy?’

  ‘I never promise anything, Tania, but you need to know we’ll never stop looking, and we’ll do our utmost to get them.’

  Tania squeezed the detective’s hand and said, ‘I know you will, Rachel. Thanks for letting me come and say goodbye to Evan tonight.’

  With tears starting to well in her eyes, Rachel blinked hard and said, ‘Come on, the car’s over here.’

  28

  24 June 1986

  Marsh Lane, Dunham, Nottinghamshire

  Marsh Lane at Dunham was very quiet and very dark.

  There were no street lights, and a mist was starting to roll up from the flood dyke that ran alongside the lane and fed into the nearby River Trent.

  Jimmy Wade had parked the Daihatsu Hijet van about fifty yards from the small cottage that Jack Williams called home. He’d followed the nurse the week before as he drove home from Rampton Hospital.

  The cottage was one of only three dwellings on Marsh Lane. The nearest house to the cottage was almost a hundred yards further down the lane.

  It was now just after ten o’clock at night. Wade had been parked in the same location for an hour. During that time, not a single vehicle had driven along Marsh Lane.

  Wade knew that Williams was a single man and lived alone.

  He’d often heard the young nurse bragging about his sexual exploits at the cottage, to his older colleague, Fred Barnes. Desperate to ingratiate himself with Barnes, whenever he had the opportunity, Williams had severely beaten Jimmy Wade.

  While suffering at the hands of the young nurse, Wade had made a promise to himself on more than one occasion. Eventually, he would kill Jack Williams.

  Tonight, he’d been patient.

  He had deliberately waited, to make sure Williams wasn’t entertaining any female company tonight.

  He turned and looked at Melissa Braithwaite sitting next to him. ‘It’s time. Do you remember what you’ve got to do?’

  Braithwaite nodded, but there was an anxious look on her face.

  ‘Come on, Mel, for Christ’s sake! We’ve gone through it a hundred times. Do you know what you’ve got to do or not?’

  Recognising the rising temper behind his voice, she quickly nodded and said, ‘I know what I’ve got to do, Jimmy. Sorry.’

  ‘That’s more like it, sweetheart. Trust me, this is going to be a piece of piss. Just do it exactly how I told you. I’m telling you, Mel; this prick can’t resist a pretty face.’

  ‘It’s okay. I’m ready.’

  Wade started the van and drove it slowly along the lane with the lights off. He stopped directly outside the cottage owned by Williams, and turned off the engine. He got out of the driver’s seat, walked round to the side door, and retrieved a bundle of rags and a brown bottle from the rear of the van.

  Braithwaite also got out of the vehicle and stood quietly by the side of the van. Wade reached over and undid the buttons of her blouse, exposing her ample cleavage.

  He grinned and said, ‘That’s better. There’s no way he’ll be able to resist those.’

  Slowly and stealthily, they made their way up the garden path towards the front door of the cottage. Braithwaite walked directly up to the door while Wade hid behind a nearby hydrangea bush in the garden. As soon as he was satisfied he couldn’t be seen by anyone standing at the front door, he glared at Braithwaite and nodded.

  Almost trancelike, she began hammering on the front door with her tiny, balled-up fists.

  After a few seconds of the persistent banging, a light came on in the hallway of the cottage. She continued her furious knocking and heard a voice inside shout, ‘Just a minute, I’m coming!’

  Suddenly, the door was flung wide open.

  Jack Williams stood in the doorway, bare-chested. He was wearing a pair of grey jogging bottoms and a pair of untied training shoes.

  He stared at the blonde woman, with her breasts exposed beneath the unbuttoned blouse, and said, ‘What the hell’s going on? Are you alright?’

  Without saying a word, Braithwaite pushed by him. She staggered along the narrow hallway, collapsed to the floor and began sobbing.

  Williams turned his back towards the open front door and rushed to help the stricken woman. In his haste to help her, he failed to close the front door behind him.

  In a flash, Jimmy Wade was through the door and standing behind Williams.

  He clamped the chloroform-soaked rag over the face of the young male nurse. In seconds, the stupefying drug took effect, and Williams slumped, unconscious, on the floor of the hallway.

  Wade shoved the drug-soaked rag into his jacket pocket, stepped forward and landed a single, massive kick to the side of Williams’s head.

  He shouted, ‘That’s the first of many, you bastard!’

  He pulled Braithwaite to her feet and said, ‘Come on! Get moving. Don’t just sit there. I’ll bring this shithead. Make sure you pick up the bottle of chloroform from outside
the front door.’

  She nodded hastily and scuttled out the front door.

  Wade picked up Williams and threw him over his shoulder, in the classic fireman’s lift. He paused at the front door and looked both ways along the dark, quiet lane.

  It was still as silent and dark as the grave.

  Nothing stirred.

  Quickly, Wade carried Williams down the path to the Daihatsu van. He slid open the side door and threw Williams into the back. He passed the van keys to Braithwaite and growled, ‘Get in and drive home. I’m staying in the back with this piece of shit. I owe him, big style.’

  Without saying a word, Braithwaite got in the driver’s seat and started up the van. She drove slowly along the lane, which was now shrouded by low-lying fog.

  Behind her, the front door of the cottage remained wide open, and the hall light was still on. From the back of the van, she could already hear Wade unleashing a brutal beating on the unconscious Jack Williams.

  By the time they arrived back at South Lodge, there was only a deathly silence from the back of the van. She parked the van outside the lodge and, with a real sense of trepidation, walked to the side of the van.

  She paused momentarily and then opened the sliding door.

  As the door opened wide, the moon illuminated Jimmy Wade sitting in the back of the van, next to the unconscious male nurse. Both of Wade’s hands and his face were covered in blood. The blood looked black in the moonlight. He had a demonic look on his face and grinned at his unwilling accomplice.

  Braithwaite could see that Wade’s teeth were also covered in blood.

  His shirt soaked in Williams’s blood, Wade jumped out of the van and said, ‘Let’s get this bastard into the lock-up.’

  He took hold of Williams under the armpits and gestured for Braithwaite to grab his legs. She took the weight of his legs, gripping him behind the knees, and helped Wade to lift him out of the van.

  As soon as they emerged from the half-light of the van into the bright moonlight, she could see that both the man’s ears were now missing. Wade had bitten them off in his frenzied rage.

  She felt her legs go weak, and almost gagged.

  Controlling herself, she glanced away and helped Wade carry Williams around the side of the lodge. They made their way to the stone outbuilding, where Barnes was already held captive.

  Unceremoniously, Wade allowed Williams to drop to the ground. The young nurse landed heavily. Wade unlocked the padlock that secured the door.

  He flung the wooden door wide open, waking the sleeping Barnes.

  Moonlight flooded into the room through the open door, and Wade could see Barnes staring up at him, his eyes wide with fear.

  Wade growled, ‘I told you I’d bring you some company.’

  He then dragged the unconscious and savagely beaten Williams into the room. He secured his wrists to the manacles on the wall, then left him hanging from the metal restraints.

  Once Williams was secured to the wall, Wade stripped him of his training shoes, jogging bottoms and boxer shorts, leaving him bloody, battered and naked.

  Barnes squinted in the darkness, trying to make out the features of the man now manacled opposite him.

  He whispered, ‘Who is he? Is he dead?’

  ‘Not quite. He’ll come around eventually, and when he does, I’ve got a special treat lined up for you pair of bastards.’

  Wade picked up the clothing he’d taken from Williams, stepped outside, slammed the heavy wooden door shut and replaced the padlock.

  Melissa Braithwaite followed him meekly back to the lodge.

  29

  24 June 1986

  Mansfield, Nottinghamshire

  The iconic chimes of Big Ben signalled the start of the ten o’clock news on the television.

  Danny turned to Sue and said, ‘I’ll put the kettle on. Do you want a coffee?’

  Sue stood up from the sofa they were sharing. ‘I’ll go. You catch up on the news.’

  No sooner had she left the living room than the telephone in the hallway started to ring. Now it was Danny’s turn to drag himself off the sofa. He walked into the hallway and picked up the phone. ‘Hello, Danny Flint.’

  ‘Hello, sir, it’s Inspector Howson in the control room. Sorry to call you at home so late.’

  ‘What’s the problem, Inspector?’

  ‘I’ve got a woman on the phone demanding to speak to you urgently. I wouldn’t normally have called you at this hour, but she says it’s about the dead boy, Evan Jenkins.’

  Danny knew Inspector Howson well enough to know that he wouldn’t have called unless he felt he had no choice. ‘Don’t worry about the time. What’s the woman’s name?’

  ‘Bethany Jones.’

  ‘The social worker?’

  ‘Yes, sir. She saw your press release earlier this evening, and she’s worried that the murdered boy you were talking about is Evan Jenkins. I didn’t deny or confirm her fears over the telephone. She was very persistent and insisted that she needed to speak with you urgently.’

  ‘Okay. Is she still on the phone?’

  ‘No, sir, I’ve got her home number. She’s asked me to contact you and ask if you would return her call tonight.’

  ‘Pass me the number.’

  Danny scribbled down the phone number and said, ‘Thanks. Leave it with me.’

  He put the receiver down, picked it straight back up and dialled the number he’d just been given. The call was answered immediately: ‘Bethany Jones.’

  ‘Ms Jones, this is Detective Chief Inspector Danny Flint. I’ve been asked by our control room to give you a call.’

  ‘Thanks for calling me back, Chief Inspector. I saw the press release you did earlier this evening. I’m extremely worried that the murdered child you spoke about is one of my cases.’

  ‘Ms Jones, I can hear the genuine concern in your voice, but you must know that I’m not going to discuss the identity of the child. For all I know, I could be talking to a television reporter or a journalist.’

  ‘I understand that, but if it’s Evan Jenkins, I need to speak with you urgently.’

  ‘I’m not confirming or denying anything tonight. If you want to speak with me, I’ll be in my office at six o’clock in the morning. I’ll be glad to see you there and discuss anything with you in person then.’

  ‘Thanks for nothing, Chief Inspector. I’ll be in your office at five past six.’

  ‘I look forward to seeing you.’

  Danny put the telephone down just as Sue walked past carrying two mugs of coffee. ‘Who was on the phone, sweetheart?’

  ‘It’s work. That was Bethany Jones, a social worker. She wanted to speak to me urgently about Evan Jenkins. I think she’s the woman responsible for putting the kid into care.’

  ‘I’m sure she didn’t make that decision lightly. I think you need to maintain an open mind about that. Don’t forget what the conditions were like in that flat at Hyson Green. I could tell you were shocked by it, when you described the state of it to me.’

  ‘As always, you’re right. I’m just so pissed off about that kid’s death, I feel like I need to apportion the blame to someone.’

  ‘The only people responsible are the men who actually did it. Thousands of children end up in care, for all manner of reasons. None of them deserve to be abused simply because they’re in care. Concentrate on the real criminals involved, the men who abused Evan Jenkins. Now come and get your coffee before it gets cold.’

  ‘I will, thanks, sweetheart. It’s got me wondering, though: What could be so urgent that an experienced social worker felt the need to call me tonight? She must have known I wouldn’t be able to talk to her. Something’s rattled her cage; I wonder what it is.’

  ‘Now that’s more like the Danny I know and love.’

  ‘Very funny. Drink your coffee, Mrs Flint.’

  30

  25 June 1986

  South Lodge, Retford

  The morning light was just starting to filter through the
small window way above his head. As the light became stronger and illuminated the cramped space inside the outbuilding, the hopelessness of his situation became more apparent to Fred Barnes.

  He was wide awake; he’d been kept awake all night, listening to the ragged breathing and groans emanating from the man who was chained to the wall opposite him.

  Now as the daylight flooded in, he focussed on the injured man’s swollen and bruised face. He could now see that both his ears had been ripped from his head, and dried, caked-on blood entirely stained his features.

  There was still something familiar about those now distorted features.

  The injured man began to stir. Very slowly, he eased himself into a more comfortable position.

  Fred Barnes spoke quietly: ‘How are you feeling?’

  There was no response. Realising the damage to the man’s ears might have impaired his hearing, he tried again. This time he spoke a bit louder. ‘Can you hear me?’

  The man opposite shook his head slowly and tried to speak. The sounds that escaped from his battered mouth were unintelligible.

  Even though the words came out in a series of groans, Fred recognised something about the tone of the voice.

  He asked, ‘Is that you, Jack?’

  The man opposite responded with a nod.

  ‘For fuck’s sake. What’s that bastard done to you?’

  Jack Williams shook his head and made a sound. He made it again, and this time Barnes realised it was a question. Williams repeated the sound again: ‘Who?’

  Barnes responded immediately, ‘It’s that fucking psycho Jimmy Wade. He got me a couple of days ago. We’re properly in the shit here, mate.’

  Williams let out a single whimper and then fell silent again.

  31

  25 June 1986

  Mansfield Police Station, Nottinghamshire

  Danny had just walked into his office and taken his jacket off when the telephone on his desk started to ring.