by Joy Ellis
The girl took the card, and her cold fingers touched Kate’s as she did so. ‘I keep seeing her. I see her face as they dragged her away.’
She placed the card on her bedside cabinet and then slowly turned back towards Kate. Protecting her ribs with one hand, she slipped a thin arm around her and held on tightly, burying her head into Kate’s chest. ‘All because of her birthday..,’ she sobbed, ‘…if it had been different, it could have been me they took, couldn’t it?’
This was no longer the gobby little pain in the arse that had almost brought her parents to their knees. Kate stroked her hair and made soothing noises. ‘But it wasn’t you was it, sweetheart? You are safe home where you belong. Now all you need to do to help Emily is write down any new memories, anything that comes to you, okay? And then, when we find her, and we will find her, Toni, then you can put all this behind you and get on with your life.’
The girl cried for a little longer, and as Kate held her she was conscious of the shadowy figure of her father waiting anxiously outside her door. At least he had the good sense not to enter.
Kate left some ten minutes later, convinced that although Toni was safe; there was another young victim out there somewhere, waiting for them to find her. The only thing Kate wasn’t convinced about; was whether they would find her alive.
The river moved soundlessly towards the estuary and out into the vast area of inland sea that was the Wash. The evening was misty and the light was failing fast, even though it was not late.
Jon parked in the same place as before and walked quickly across the weed and bramble covered concrete to the old boathouse. Above him great swathes of fast moving clouds scudded across the darkening sky. The ragged length of crime scene tape still flapped around, and he shivered and pulled his thin bomber jacket closer to him. It wasn’t the wind that chilled him; it was the fact that really didn’t want to be doing this, but something told him that he had no choice.
He slipped silently into the dingy interior of the crumbling building, smelt the familiar damp and decay, and the chill increased. He moved across to exactly the same point as he had done before, and hunkered down to sit on his heels and wait.
He swallowed, gritted his teeth, and looked around nervously. He may be completely wrong about this, after all the connection that he was making was tenuous in the extreme. There was absolutely no link between Jamie Durham’s death and Shauna Kelly, or Toni or the missing girl, Emily, but there was one tiny, itty-bitty little niggle in Jon’s mind, and it had to be answered before he could rest.
With a soft sigh, he shifted off his heels and sat with his back to the wall. He wanted to know only one thing, and then he could get the hell out of this hole.
It had seemed like an eternity, but it only took around ten minutes for the watery half light that filtered in the boathouse to subtly change.
Jon watched carefully as moving shadows and flickering lights came together into a wispy, unfocussed picture.
As it cleared, Jon saw a thin figure laid huddled on the floor, moving, writhing in pain and fear.
‘Jamie? Jamie Durham,’ whispered Jon, partly to himself and partly to the dying boy. But this was only a lost memory that he was seeing, just a terrible moment in a time that had passed, and the boy would not hear him, because the policeman had never been there. Jon wished with all his heart that he had been. Things may have been different if he had.
The picture seemed to shift again, and the boy’s jerky movements had slackened. His energy was slowly slipping away, along with the life-blood that pooled around his slender body. And now he was no longer alone.
Jon stared in awe at the tall, bulky shadow of a figure that seemed to fill the door frame. As he watched, it slowly lumbered forward, and halted beside the boy’s body.
‘Help me.’
Jon drew in a shaky breath. His gift had started life as a purely visual thing. He saw pictures, scenes, images, visions. Lately, however, he had been blessed with a soundtrack to go with the spectral film shows. And he wasn’t sure that he liked it.
Right now, he didn’t like it one bit.
‘Please, sir. Help me?’ Jamie clasped hopelessly at the ragged wound in the side of his neck, trying to hold back the steady and merciless flow of blood from his young body.
Jon’s soul cried out to the man to help the boy, but he just stood there, a silent hulk in the darkness, staring down, but making no move to assist.
Then the man dropped down on one knee and leant over the child. His head got closer and closer, until Jon thought for one dreadful moment, that the shadowy form was going to kiss the lad’s forehead. Then he abruptly stood up and took a step away. He seemed to be moving back simply because he didn’t want get blood on his boots. And they were boots; big and heavy, worker’s boots with hardened toe-protectors. Old boots, scuffed leather, worn and weathered.
Jon allowed his head to drop and his eyes to close. He never gave up on his visions; he considered he was chosen to see them and should treat them as a privilege, but no way could he watch as this callous, insensitive being stood there, completely impervious to the dying boy’s plea.
Then he half sensed, half heard, heavy footsteps, and the brute moved away. Jon looked back up and saw the figure pause briefly in the doorway and glance back before turning away and striding off. Jon hadn’t been able to make out any features, and what he had seen had to be a trick of the light, because for one fleeting second he’d seen a glimpse of the man’s eyes. Hollow, dead eyes.
With a little cry, Jon made to stand, but dropped back like a stone. If the thought of those eyes was not bad enough, what followed was worse.
As the man walked away, a voice suddenly echoed out over the marshland. It was the sound of a chorister. The music rose and fell on the evening wind, and it was the purest sound of an angel singing.
As the picture of Jamie Durham’s bloody body dimmed to a faint mist, and the sound of the sweetest song faded into the night, Jon Summerhill lurched forward, ran from the boathouse and threw up into the scraggy bushes that edged the river path.
CHAPTER TWENTY
It was twilight, and the lights were on in the boy’s rooms as Kate drove up the gravel driveway to her home. She’d missed supper, but that was nothing unusual. There was something comforting about arriving back at the Old Police House after a really bad day. The history of the old building kind of put things into perspective. No matter how complex your problems were, in a while, maybe weeks, maybe months or maybe years, they would be behind you, half forgotten, and life would have moved on to the next series of dire troubles or exquisite happiness.
Kate slipped inside the door, closed it and let out a long sigh. She needed food, sleep, company, and more than anything, something thoroughly alcoholic. Although sadly the sleep and the drink would have to wait until the night’s work was over.
Music drifted down from the upstairs rooms; a weird cacophony of hip-hop disco and something that sounded more like a stringed instrument massacre. Kate smiled to herself. At least her two boys were safe and happy, even if their eardrums were in danger of imploding at any moment.
David was at the sink, rubbing aggressively at a heavy roasting pan with a soap-filled pad, and Kate felt a rush of warmth for him. It really couldn’t be easy; being six foot tall, still handsome with all your own hair and teeth, intelligent, and your job was that of a house-frau.
She placed her bag on the table, went over and kissed the back of his neck. ‘Is there anything left from whatever was in that dish?’
He turned and regarded her almost sternly. ‘Since when have I ever cooked for us and left you out?’ He pointed with a soapy finger towards the microwave. ‘Zap it for three minutes, and you can also enjoy one of Jamie Oliver’s inventive takes on a sausage cassoulet.’ He frowned. ‘The boys said it was interesting, but reckoned that either he concocted it on a bad day, or I misread the ingredients. There’s an open bottle of Cava in the fridge. That’s if you’re not turning around and going straight
back out again?’
There was a distinct edge to the comment, and Kate winced. ‘Ah, now funny you should mention that, although it’s not for a few hours yet. Can I get you a glass?’ She retrieved a large glass from the cabinet and headed for the refrigerator.
‘Dead right, you can.’ David put the dish back into the still warm oven to dry and closed the door with a slam. ‘Even if I do have to drink alone. So what is it this time?’
She reached for another smaller glass. ‘Oh hell, one glass won’t hurt, and I really need it.’ She poured the wine before answering. ‘It’s confusing.’ She turned the microwave on and flopped down onto one of the kitchen chairs. ‘We have a lead on an illegal drinking club that we believe is in some part responsible for one girl’s death and the disappearance of another.’
David sat down opposite her, his face serious and all trace of irritation gone. ‘And are you raiding it tonight?’
‘No. I’m sending one of my detectives in undercover.’ Kate took a long gulp of the refreshing white wine. ‘And I need to be close in case things kick off.’
The microwave alarm went off, and David stood up. ‘Sit there. I’ll get it for you.’
He placed a knife and fork beside her, and then placed the steaming plate of food in front of her. She smiled up at him. ‘Thank you, babe. And I’m so sorry I have to go out, it’s the last thing I want to do, honestly.’
‘I believe you. Now eat, before you have to run away.’
Kate gave an appreciative sniff. ‘Hey, this smells absolutely delicious. I don’t know why you are always putting your culinary expertise down.’
‘You haven’t tried it yet.’
She took a fork full of food and chewed. She could taste fresh sage and tomatoes along with haricot beans and tasty sausage. ‘Ah, heaven! Comfort food after a well shitty day. Lovely!’ She took another mouthful before asking, ‘How are the boys? No disasters?’
‘No disasters, they’re fine, although I do have a few things to fill you in on.’ David sat back down and lifted his glass. ‘Now, he’ll want to tell you himself, so don’t let on that you know, but Marcus has been picked to head up the school Debating Society. He’s chuffed as little apples and already planning a career in politics.’
‘He’s too damned honest to be a politician, even if he does have the ability to talk his way out of a locked room.’ She sipped more wine and topped up David’s glass. ‘But that’s great, isn’t it?’
David nodded. ‘There’s going to be an inter-school challenge in a few weeks time, and he wants us there to support his team.’ He looked at her thoughtfully. ‘And he does mean both of us.’
‘Unless there’s another murder on my patch, there is nothing I’d rather do than support our son.’ Kate knew her tone was a tad icy, but she was tired and delicious supper or not, the scarcely veiled dig irritated.
Tactfully for once, David did not take it any further. He just drank his wine and then said, ‘More importantly, Eddie’s therapist called today. He thinks Eddie will soon be ready to try a new step in his therapy regime. He wants to do a domiciliary visit next Friday to discuss it with us all. Can you make it?’
There was no sly dig this time. Mainly because David knew that Kate had never missed an appointment concerning Eddie’s OCD.
‘Yes, of course. Just remind me the night before, okay? And what is this new step? Did he say?’ She felt a nagging worry, deep inside. Eddie was doing so well at present, was it really the right time to change things?
‘He said it’s called ERP. Exposure and response prevention.’
Her concern increased. They’d read about it when their son went into Cognitive Behavioural Therapy. And she knew that it would be hard on Eddie. Damned hard if what they’d read was anything to go by. It would mean him facing his demons head on, and whereas she knew that he would not be asked to do more than he could cope with, it would certainly upset his world for a while.
And theirs.
She drew in a long breath and held it. She hadn’t liked the way that last short thought had crept in and she sincerely hoped that her concern was entirely for her son, and not for her demanding career. Whatever, the first thing was to hear the therapist out. If ERP was necessary for Eddie’s recovery, then they’d have to find a way to deal with it. All of them together.
She managed to rally a smile. ‘Oh well, as always, we’ll do what’s best for our cherub, won’t we?’
David smiled back, and she couldn’t help but notice that he had to make as much effort as she had. ‘As always.’
They spent the next hour watching television with the boys and then Kate went upstairs, showered and changed her clothes. As she pulled on a black sweatshirt and dark slacks, she thought about Jon. Why had he invited Gary to stay, when he had always declared that his peculiar gift made living relationships very difficult for him? He had told her that sometimes the spirits seemed to know when he was tired or vulnerable, and would bombard him with cries for help and pleas to get messages through, just as he was settling down to sleep. He also he suffered from nightmares and terrible dreams. Which could be very difficult to explain away to the un-initiated?
Kate looked for some comfortable shoes and wondered what Gary Pritchard would think he if heard his new sergeant screaming the house down at three in the morning. And not only that, had she just never noticed his protectiveness towards Rosie, or was this something new? She thought it was more likely to be the latter of the two thoughts, and that meant either he had bad vibes about the operation, or he cared more about the woman than he was letting on. And both ideas were worrying.
The whole team needed to be razor sharp when one of them was in a risky situation. There was certainly no room for hidden emotions. As she pulled a pair of black leather trainers from the bottom of her wardrobe, she hoped that Jon was just overtired, and therefore being a bit hyper-sensitive to one of the team taking on an undercover assignment.
As she kissed David goodbye and walked to the car, she sincerely hoped that Jon would have pulled himself together by ten o’clock. Rosie was 100% focussed, and she wanted the rest of the team to be the same.
As ten approached, Kate began to feel a mixture of apprehension and excitement. The arrangement was far from perfect. As they had no idea where they were going, they couldn’t plan suitable recon or back-up. They were going to have to wing it, make the most of whatever they could use, when they knew the actual location.
Rosie, wearing an outfit that Kate would have barred any daughter of hers setting foot outside the door in, stared unblinking at Chloe’s phone, willing it to ring.
Jon paced the CID room, but then so did Scott and Gary.
‘Bingo!’ whispered Rosie as she grabbed the mobile.
Everyone stood still and waited.
‘Jubilee Lane. The old rowing club, near the mill.’ Rosie snapped the phone shut, and jumped up. ‘Anyone know it? Because I don’t.’
‘Relax, Flower.’ said Scott, immediately feeding the data into his computer. ‘It’s only about twenty minutes away, on the road to Harlan Marsh. I used to go fishing near there with my dad. The mill is derelict and all sealed up, although we maybe able to find somewhere there to keep an eye on the venue. I’m getting a satellite picture of the terrain now.’
Kate thought for a moment. ‘As far as I remember, the clubhouse is closed too. There was a fire there a few years back and they moved the rowing club to new premises.’ She nodded to herself. ‘And as there are no residences in the lane, and everything else is abandoned, it could be the perfect place for a party.’ She turned to Gary. ‘Go tell uniform of the exact location. I want a unit well out of the way, but close enough should we need them. And softly, softly, please. No blues and twos under any circumstances.’
‘Here we go.’ Scotty brought up an aerial view of the rundown clubhouse, and scanned the surroundings. ‘If we drop Rosie here..,’ he pointed to a narrow lane. ‘…she could walk through and tie up with the main path to the venue. I should think
most of the party-goers will come from this direction. That’s from the main road.’ He traced his finger further along the river edge. ‘I think we could find some pretty good cover both along the tow-path and around the mill.’
Kate straightened up. ‘I agree. Everyone ready? So let’s get out there. Rosie? Still up for it?’
‘Am I just? Bring it on.’
Kate could have laughed when she saw the bright intelligent eyes looking out from the ultra-glam and sexy make-up. Rosie’s trendy choice of teen fashion and clever make-up had made her appear about sixteen or seventeen maximum. Then she realised that only one who wasn’t all revved up, was Jon, and he had said pretty well nothing since they arrived. It worried her, but she had Rosie’s safety to consider right now, she would talk to her sergeant later. ‘Check her wire, Scotty. We can’t afford to lose contact.’
‘Already done, Guv. And it’s not standard issue either. It’s one I’ve adapted myself. It’s top of the range. She has the best signal and range that’s available.’
Kate looked around. ‘Then let’s go, folks. And good luck, we have some seriously bad men to get some dirt on.’ She touched Rosie’s shoulder. ‘Be careful in there. The slightest problem and you get out, understand?’
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
Rosie slipped in behind a group of four or five youngsters and tried to listen to their conversation. It was clear that they were already pretty pissed, even before they got to the free booze. Rosie felt anger rising. These silly kids were such easy prey for the perverts. She took a deep breath. She needed to keep her concentration levels on high and miss nothing.
One the girls ahead of her was hanging onto a skinny, spiky-haired youth and jabbing an accusatory finger at him as she lurched unsteadily along beside him. ‘And you can keep your leery eyes off that ginger slapper if she turns up again tonight. I saw you, Calvin, with your tongue hanging down to your belly-button.’