by Joy Ellis
As he led her along the gravel path around the old chapel, he felt Toni tensing up and her pace slow a little more with every step. ‘You’ve nothing to fear, Toni.’ He said gently. ‘Just tell us whether or not you recognise the cellar, and then we’ll get you out of there in a flash, I promise.’
Toni held his arm a little tighter, then winced, as the pain from her ribs intensified. ‘I hate not being able to remember everything.’ She almost spat the words out. ‘It’s so scary. I mean, those freaky perverts could have done anything, and I wouldn’t…’
‘But they didn’t, Toni, and you have to hold on to that.’ Jon stopped, took the girl by the shoulders and looked her full in the eyes. ‘Okay, so you were hurt, and sure, that’s bad enough, but they never sexually assaulted you, and you can thank your lucky stars for that fact.’
She nodded, reluctantly said, ‘Yeah, I suppose,’ then walked to the top of the flight of steps and looked down. ‘Okay, let’s get this over with.’ With a little shiver she stepped hesitantly down the stone stairs, touching the wall tentatively with her fingertips like a blind woman reading Braille.
At the bottom Gary waited, his hand held out to her, as Jon and Kate carefully followed her down.
‘Good lass. Well done.’ said Gary softly. ‘Just a quick look round, and then we’ll get you on your way home, okay?’
Toni stood at the entrance to the crypt and stared about her. Her mouth was slightly open and her nose was wrinkled as the smell of the place suddenly hit her. ‘No, this wasn’t it.’ She gagged on her words. ‘This smells even worse than the cabbages, this stinks like piss.’
‘Sadly, my little friend, it probably is piss.’ said Gary. ‘And a few other unmentionable substances.’
‘Are you sure, Toni?’ Disappointment edged Kate’s words.
‘Yes, this is bigger, and well, I’d know this was part of an old church. Wherever I was before..,’ the girl gave an involuntary shiver, ‘…it was a proper cellar, you know? Like there was old stuff around. Boxes and cases; that sort of thing.’
‘Is there anything that you see here, that reminds you of where you were taken?’ asked Gary carefully.
The girl walked further in, then stopped and looked around her. Slowly she shook her head. ‘There were bottles with candles stuck in them, like those.’ She pointed to a stone shelf with a row of empty wine bottles with burnt down candle stubs in their necks stacked along it. Suddenly she walked towards them, and picked one up. ‘Emily showed me this label! Look! She thought it was funny, and we laughed at it.’
Jon grimaced at the sound of the name Emily being uttered so casually. ‘Put it down, please, Toni. We may need to check whose prints are on it. Are you saying you were offered the same type of wine?’
She nodded furiously. ‘I wouldn’t forget that name, would I?’
They leaned closer and saw the label. Old Tart.
‘And there was one called Old Git’. We laughed at that too.’ Toni added.
Kate peered at the label then looked at Gary. ‘For people who buy the label, not the wine, I suppose.’
‘Actually they are deceptively good wines, ma’am. One’s a Sauvignon blanc and Terret, the other’s a Grenache/Syrah.’
‘Sorry, I had no idea that you were such a connoisseur. Are they hard to find?’
‘No, ma’am, I’m afraid supermarkets stock them.’
‘They would, wouldn’t they?’ Kate muttered.
‘Can I go home now? This minging place is making me want to hoop up.’
Kate put an arm around Toni’s slender shoulder and smiled at her. ‘Of course. And believe me; I feel exactly the same. Thank you, Toni, you’ve really helped us.’
‘Have you found Emily yet?’
Kate’s smile faded and she looked across to Jon. ‘Not yet. But when you’ve settled in at home, we really need to talk to you some more, about Emily.’
‘Sure.’ The girl’s shoulder’s dropped a little. ‘Although I don’t know what else to tell you, it’s all so fuzzy.’
Jon tried to look positive. ‘Hey, you just remembered laughing over the wine labels, I’m sure other things will start to come back to you.’
‘Maybe.’ She gave a sideways glance towards the doorway, where her father was now anxiously standing, shifting impatiently from foot to foot. ‘I hope so, because Emily was really nice.’
Before they left, Kate needed to call the station, leaving Jon to watch as the BMW, closely followed by Gary’s little Suzuki Vitara, pulled out of the chapel car park.
He was gutted that Toni hadn’t fingered the place as the one from which she and Emily had been taken, but he could only hope that forensics would come up with something to help them trace the organisers of the club. The thought of men ready and willing to use Rohypnol-type drugs on kids made him feel physically sick.
He slipped behind the wheel of the car, started the engine and waited for Kate, who was still wandering around trying to access the best of a weak signal reception.
He yawned, tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, and then gave a grunt.
The vision of a high tunnel stretched out before him, and just as quickly, it disappeared. Jon shook his head. Tunnels? He sighed, then raised the handbrake and eased the car around so that it was facing down the drive towards the road. Several times over the last few days he’d seen the same thing. Then in an instant it had gone. Someone was trying to show him something, but what?
Jon looked up and saw Kate hurrying across the grass towards him, skirting moss covered gravestones and gnarled, weather-beaten shrubby bushes. She got in and clicked in her seat belt. ‘Rosie has found two incidents reported in the last few months about youngsters attending underground parties and finishing up the worse for wear.’
‘Right, and they were local?’
‘Local kids, but the venues were out of town. That’s all she knows. She’s still digging. And right now, we need to go interview the Barley boys, so put your foot down, Jensen. We’re not sight-seeing and we haven’t got all bloody day.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Whatever Ethan had said to Nicholas, it had had the most profound effect, and the boy was spewing out information like a tap with no washer.
‘I thought it was cool to start with. Make a load of wonga for getting a shitty key copied? I mean, who wouldn’t? It wasn’t till later that I got scared.’
‘Shame you didn’t think it through first, dick-head.’ murmured his brother. ‘What did you think they were going to do down there? Hold prayer meetings and plan World Peace?’
‘I didn’t care what they did! The place is a crap-hole anyway.’
‘So what was the story they gave you, Nicholas?’ asked Jon.
‘That they had crates and crates of booze and were happy to share it with us kids, if we just hung out with them. No strings.’
Kate’s gut tied itself into a small but painful reef knot. ‘And what sorts of activities were involved in this, “hanging out”?
Nicholas shrugged and sank back in his chair. ‘Just drinking, dancing together; bit of a feel and a snog.’ He bit his lip. ‘Although I think some of them went a bit further than that.’
‘We saw the condoms, thank you.’
‘Well, I didn’t know that was going to happen, did I? The old guys, well, they just watched, didn’t they? I mean, they never touched us. They just sat in the shadows and watched.’ The boy stared uncomfortably down at the table. ‘Some of the kids wanted to give them their money’s worth. Shock them, show them what they could do.’ He looked up, an almost embarrassed look on his acne-stained face. ‘It was the drink, wasn’t it? Most of them were hammered by that time.’ His eyes fell back to the table. ‘I split when I saw one of the men had a camcorder in one hand and his di…’
‘We get the picture, Nicholas.’ Kate brought that nasty train of thought to a close. ‘And you know that we have to stop this, don’t you? Before one of these kids gets, well, God knows what could happen to them.’
‘Yeah, but there were no names used, and the main man gave me readies for my trouble.’ He sighed. ‘But I’ll tell you all I do know, if you can keep this from Dad?’
From the consternation on the lad’s face, Kate knew that she’d been right. For all his jolly banter about the family baby, just possibly the good Reverend had something of a temper? She gave Nicholas her first smile. So, maybe he was still creepy, but she felt a slight softening in her opinion of him. ‘Tell us all you know, and I’ll keep what I say to your father to a minimum. And I’ll make sure he knows that you helped us.’
‘Just tell them, you arse-hole! And thank your lucky stars you are getting let off so easily,’ hissed Ethan.
Twenty minutes later they let the boys go. They had descriptions, locations of meetings, and best of all; Nicholas described the exact spot in the cellar where the ‘main man’ had sat. Any evidence found in that immediate area, and from what they had been doing, Kate was dead certain that there would be evidence, could later be linked to him.
Kate closed the interview room door, and exhaled loudly. ‘I can’t wait to tie this up with what Gary Pritchard has already got. From the sound of these perverts, we can’t waste a moment in getting them into the Custody Suite.’
Jon nodded. ‘Bastards! Just the thought of those slime-balls watching young kids makes me want to heave.’
Kate thought of her lovely sons. ‘I know exactly what you mean.’
‘Ma’am? Could we have a word, please?’ Two uniformed officers were walking towards them.
Kate acknowledged them then said to Jon. ‘Go check on the others, would you?’ She turned back, ‘Sure, lads, but make it snappy.’
The older of the two spoke first. ‘We were asked to check out a place called Windrush for you, ma’am.’
Kate recognised him as PC Andy English, a good copper who’d worked with her on numerous occasions. ‘Yes, and did you find anything?’
‘Not exactly, ma’am.’ said the younger man; a lad that she knew little about, other than his name was PC Ivan Goode.
‘But the thing is,’ continued Andy, ‘we spent a lot of time there, and when we left we wrote it off as a no-no, now we’re not so sure. We think it warrants a second look, but with a lot more bodies.’
‘What’s worrying you, Andy?’ Whatever it was, she trusted this man’s judgement.
He adjusted his heavy equipment belt, and raised an eyebrow thoughtfully. ‘Hard to put a finger on it, but I reckon it’s the bloke that showed us round more than anything.’
‘We think he directed us to where we needed to go a bit too carefully, ma’am,’ said Ivan. ‘I’m sure we saw exactly what he wanted us to see, and no more.’
‘Who is he?’
‘His name is Micah Lee, and he is not the kind of man you would want to upset.’ Andy sniffed. ‘I’m pretty good on reading people, ma’am, and that man was hair-spring taut. Oh yes, after initial anger at us showing up unannounced, he put up a good show; nice as pie, but underneath..,’ he paused for effect. ‘…boiling, he was.’
‘And he’s the owner of Windrush?’
‘No, he’s the caretaker. It’s owned by a man named Benedict Broome. Lee had no intentions of telling us about what was going on there, but he opened up a bit as we walked around, and told us that Broome has massive plans for the place. And Micah Lee seems to be working his socks off down there, but hell, Windrush is one scary dump.’
‘And dangerous,’ added Ivan. ‘It needs bull-dozing and starting again.’
‘What are these great plans?’
‘Broome wants to turn Windrush into a retreat. Somewhere for people to go and get away from life for a while. A remote spot where they would eat well, sleep well and relax. Lee was telling us about proposed water gardens, covered courtyards for silent contemplation, a garden of tranquillity, reading rooms, music rooms, quiet rooms.., you name it. You’d have thought Broome had millions to spend.’
‘Maybe he does?’
Ivan laughed. ‘Well, he’s not spending too much on labour! You didn’t see Micah Lee, ma’am! He’s out there with a bloody great shovel and a barrow, no sign of any workmen or helpers. It looked like he was doing it alone, and by hand.’
‘It was odd, ma’am.’ agreed Andy. ‘Although it was apparent that some major work in clearing the place has already been done.’ He frowned. ‘I think I’d like to see the plans and the planning permission reports.’
‘Then get them, constable. And as soon as possible, and bring them straight to me. Meantime..,’ she took the scruffy card that Goode offered her. ‘… I’ll speak to this Benedict Broome, then perhaps we’ll pay Windrush another visit.’
Kate watched as the two constables hurried down the corridor, and felt a little chill of apprehension drift over her. There was something about the old sanatorium that caused her concern, and over the years she had learnt never to ignore her occasional feelings of uneasiness. On the few times that she had, it had always proved costly.
She walked slowly back towards the lifts, and decided that Jon’s Windrush Guided Tour may come in useful after all. His prior knowledge, coupled with his strange ability, may prove to be a great help.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Jon and Gary sat in the flickering darkness of the monitor room, their eyes trained on the CCTV footage that flashed across the screens.
‘I hope you two are working and not hiding down here eating Big Macs and fries?’
‘No such luck.’ said Jon without looking away from his screen. ‘We are looking for Nic Barley’s meeting with the big cheese of the Sicko Society.’
Kate slumped into a chair and looked far from happy. ‘And I’ve just been getting an ear-bashing from the Super.’ She turned up the corners of her mouth in a wry smile. ‘Apparently my reports on the Jamie Durham case are late; I never told her about Emily; I’ve allowed myself to get side-tracked away from Shauna Kelly’s death; the team isn’t getting results quick enough, and although she didn’t actually say it, I think I may be singularly responsible for the Icelandic volcanoes and the war in Afghanistan.’
Jon gave a small laugh. ‘Which translates that Top Brass is chewing at her heels for results on the death of the child of one of our own people.’
‘Exactly.’ growled Kate as she turned to Gary. ‘But there’s one bit of good news, PC Pritchard.’
Gary paused the footage and swung around to face the boss. ‘Ma’am?’
‘As from ten minutes ago, you are on our team.’
Gary face crumpled into a smile. ‘That’s great, ma’am. I just hope that I can be of help.’
‘I’m sure you will, constable. Now are you happy to commute, or can we organise somewhere temporary for you in Saltfleet?’
‘He can have my guest room, Guv.’ Jon turned to Gary. ‘If you want it?’
‘That would be perfect, as long as I’m not putting you out, Sarge?’
Jon grinned. ‘No problem. It’ll be good to have some company.’ And he meant it, but when he looked up he saw Kate flashing him a warning look that could have halted a speeding freight train.
He gave her a reassuring smile and the hint of a nod. He knew what he was doing, even if he hadn’t shared his insights with the DCI. He hoped that she would pick up his unspoken message that said, “Its okay. I can handle this.”
Kate shrugged then gave him a forced smile. ‘That’s settled then.’
Gary had missed all of that, and was grinning from ear to ear. ‘When I get home tonight I’ll sort out a few things and get some clothes together. I can move in tomorrow if that’s okay? It’ll be much better to be on hand if I’m needed.’
‘My thoughts precisely,’ said Jon. ‘Although perhaps I should fill you in on some of my eccentric habits before you commit yourself to becoming my lodger?’
Gary raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ll take my chances, Sarge. When you’ve lived out on Harlan Marsh you’ve seen it all before. That place has characters that make eccentric look normal!’
Jon laugh
ed, and suddenly felt very pleased with his new domestic arrangements. He’d been a long time on his own, and although this was only a temporary thing, the way things were going at present, he’d meant it when he had said that he could do with the company. He looked back at his monitor. He’d fill the Boss in on his reasons when they were alone.
‘Sarge! Guv!’ Gary stopped his machine and ran it back a few shots. ‘Got them!’
Jon stared at two dark figures, both staying well back in the shadows, whilst young Nic Barley stood, blissfully unaware, right in front of the security camera.
‘Damn! They could be anyone,’ cursed Kate.
‘Hang fire, ma’am. The one on the left turns in a minute, look, just there.’ Gary pointed to the screen.
Jon and Kate looked closer.
‘That taller one, he’s familiar somehow. I think we know him.’ murmured Jon.
‘Maybe, but..,’ Kate squinted as she tried to make out any recognisable features. ‘The quality is crap. Even if he were the biggest villain in town, we’d never get an ID from that.’
‘I’ll get some stills printed off. Maybe they’ll show something more.’ Gary went to talk to the IT operator and returned in a few minutes with a batch of print-outs.
‘They’re no better,’ sighed Kate. ‘Can we get Scott to clean them up, make them clearer?
‘No, ma’am, the IT operator here has done the best you can with them. Young Barley’s face is clear as crystal, as you can see. It’s just that the Head Honcho and his side-kick kept close to the buildings and in deep shadow.’
‘If they’re local, they probably know the exact positioning of the cameras.’ Kate murmured. ‘Is this all we have?’
‘We just need to check out the last of the meeting places that Nicholas Barley told us about.’ Jon threw her a tired smile. ‘We may get lucky.’
‘Okay, well, finish those, then get home. There’s little more that we can do now.’