Dead Time

by Dead Time (retail) (epub)

  Lambert had encountered corrupted families before, horrendous abuse starting early in a child’s life. The vast majority of abusers had suffered abuse as children. Edmund was either one of them or was something worse. Jonathan Barnes had destroyed his son, one way or another. Lambert had a vague hope that unravelling what happened would help provoke some answers from Edmund but time was running out.

  ‘Did he bring you along to watch? No one is blaming you, Edmund, it’s not your fault you’re in this situation. Help us now and I promise we will do everything we can to help you.’

  There was no flicker of emotion in Edmund’s eyes. ‘You forget my parents were police officers. You’re not going to sway me, Lambert. I know there’s nothing you can do. You’ll put me away for good, and frankly I don’t care.’

  Lambert thought quickly, fearing he was losing his opportunity. ‘We can put you in the same prison as your father, the same block. You can even share a cell, how does that sound, Edmund?’

  It was only momentary, but the boy’s face displayed a hint of emotion; with the blink of an eye he banished it, embarrassed.

  ‘What do you say, Edmund? Tell me where Sophie and Jane are and you have my word in front of all these officers, you and your father can be together.’

  Lambert stopped speaking, giving the boy time to think. The teenager’s thought processes were almost visible, his eyes glazed over, his skin losing its colour. ‘I don’t feel so good,’ said Edmund, collapsing into the soft undergrowth.

  Tillman glanced at one of his operatives, who ran over. ‘He’s in shock,’ said the man.

  Lambert cursed and moved towards Edmund. ‘Stay with me, Edmund, tell me where they are,’ he pleaded, as the boy slipped in and out of consciousness. ‘Tell me where they are and you can be with your father.’

  Edmund’s eyes flicked open, large and wide, and he looked at Lambert as if surprised to be there.

  ‘She has them,’ he said, closing his eyes once more.

  ‘We need to get him some medical attention, he’s lost a lot of blood,’ said the operative.

  ‘Who is she?’ said Lambert, shaking the boy, but there was no answer.

  ‘Take him away,’ said Tillman to the operative, who picked the boy up like he weighed nothing

  ‘The mother,’ suggested Tillman. ‘She’s ex-police.’

  Lambert nodded.

  ‘You’ve spoken to her. Go there now, speak to her again. We’ll take Edmund to a safe place. When he wakes we’ll question him again,’ said Tillman.

  Lambert walked back to the car, still in a daze. He called Sarah and told her to meet him at Brenda Barnes’ farmhouse.

  ‘You don’t think she had them all along?’ said Sarah.

  ‘Either that, or she knows the person who does.’

  Chapter Forty

  Sophie dragged Jane towards the corner of the room, as footsteps echoed down the stairs. Her initial joy at hearing noises vanished as she considered who might be coming for them.

  She scrambled backwards, desperate for something to protect themselves with, her fingers dragging along the floor and picking up the water bottle.

  A hatch opened in the door and Sophie caught a shadow of movement behind.

  ‘The water is safe to drink,’ said a female voice.

  ‘What have you done to my daughter, she won’t wake up.’

  ‘She’s had a sedative, a strong one. I thought it would be best for her. I have some food for you. I am going to open the door now and you need to stay where you are. I have a gun, I know how to use it and I will not hesitate to do so. Do you understand me?’

  There was a coldness to the woman’s voice, but also a vulnerability. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ Sophie said.

  ‘Do you understand?’ said the voice, an octave higher.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sophie.

  The door creaked open, two trays pushed through the opening.

  ‘Please,’ said Sophie. ‘Please don’t hurt my baby.’

  The arm hesitated by the door, the elongated fingers gripping its side, before easing it shut. Sophie ran at the door as the locks turned with a metallic clank. Two trays lay on the stone floor, each with small rectangular sections holding unidentifiable mounds of food smelling of nothing. Sophie stuck her finger in one of the warm mounds and placed the substance in her mouth. The taste matched the smell.

  Had she been nearer to the door, would she have been able to attack the woman? Nothing on earth would have held her back. She would have torn through the woman like she wasn’t there, would have taken the severest of beatings to have the chance of escaping. She pictured the woman’s eyes, black and lost, and imagined her hands clawing at them. ‘Let us out, you fucking bitch,’ she screamed, the noise echoing around the room. She peered beneath the door, blinking at the faint light, before dragging one of the trays back to her sleeping daughter.

  How long had they been here? A second bottle of water was on the tray. Unscrewing the top, Sophie sprinkled some of the water onto Jane’s lips before taking a tiny sip. It was probably naive of her but she’d sensed a shred of compassion in the woman or at least a hint of uncertainty.

  Who had taken them? She recalled the newspaper article about Michael. Three victims, one of them a serving police officer. The dead officer was called Duggan. She recalled the name from before, from the horrendous Waverley Manor case Michael had worked on. Was that the connection? Was that where they were now? She refused to panic and told herself the woman didn’t want them dead, at least not yet.

  Who would have such a grievance against Michael? She thought of the women in Michael’s life. His colleague, Matilda, the poor girl with the horrific facial injuries and of course, Sarah, his one-time lover, but they would have nothing to do with this. What potential enemies did he have? Too many to consider, but she could be methodical. His most recent major prosecutions had been related to Waverley Manor. All men, starting with that scumbag, Jonathan Barnes. Eight men, probably eight wives without husbands. Could it be a revenge thing? She tried to recall the names of those he’d put away. She knew of Peter Saunders, the man who’d escaped. Was he linked somehow?

  She took another sip of the water and risked a second taste of the dark mush, and began to plan for when the woman came back.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Lambert called Matilda as he drove to the farmhouse and explained the situation. ‘I need you to do something. Jonathan Barnes’ wife, Brenda, or B.B. as she’s known to her friends. She’s a former Met officer.’

  ‘I remember,’ said Matilda.

  ‘Good, then hopefully you remember her children. Edmund Barnes we know about, but it’s the daughter I’m interested in now.’

  The sound of keystrokes could be heard on the car’s speakers as Lambert overtook a startled driver on the back road leading out of Waverly Manor.

  ‘Louise Barnes,’ said Matilda. ‘Edmund’s twin sister, currently at university in Swansea, studying history.’

  ‘Do we have an address for her there?’

  ‘No, but I can find it, though it is the Christmas holidays so I imagine she’s back home.’

  ‘Hopefully we’ll know soon. Get Swansea CID to go to her university residence anyway and detain her if she’s there.’

  Despite Lambert’s suspension, Matilda didn’t argue the point. Lambert hung up, wondering how much Tillman had told her.

  Edmund’s last words haunted him as he drove. ‘She has them.’ Initially he’d thought he was referring to his mother. Now he wasn’t so sure. Louise Barnes was Edmund’s twin sister. Had she somehow been indoctrinated like her brother, the pair of them working in tandem?

  Sarah was waiting for him a quarter of mile from the farmhouse. A calmness descended over Lambert as he saw her again. They exchanged updates. Sarah told him about her meeting with Guthrie and Partridge while Lambert relayed the extraordinary events back at Waverley Manor.

  ‘He said, “she has them”?’ asked Sarah.

  ‘Those were his fi
nal words before he went unconscious. I’ve asked Matilda to trace the daughter but we can’t waste any time. We didn’t check the house last time and she could be there. So could Sophie and Jane. It will only be a matter of time before Brenda and or Louise find out Edmund is under arrest.’

  They walked to the entrance of the house, hugging the hedges lining the approach. The sky was a sour grey and droplets of rain fell on them as they edged round the back of the house. Lambert opened the unlocked back door and entered, his gun by his side. Sarah followed close behind, as the smell of onions and stale cooking oil drifted towards them. They followed their noses to the kitchen where Brenda Barnes stood chopping vegetables.

  Lambert gave her no time to respond. He pointed the gun at her chest and screamed at her to put her hands behind her head.

  ‘What the hell is this?’ said Brenda. ‘You have no right to be here. If you haven’t got a warrant to be on my premises, I swear you’re going to regret it. I’ll have both your badges.’

  Lambert stood firm. ‘You have three seconds to drop the knife and put your hands behind your head and to step away from the counter,’ he repeated.

  ‘You haven’t changed,’ said Brenda, a snarl forming on her lips, reminiscent of her husband and son.

  ‘I will shoot you. DCI May here will confirm you pointed a shotgun at me the last time we met and I’m well within my rights to protect myself now.’

  ‘What are you protecting yourself from? A woman chopping vegetables?’

  ‘Three,’ said Lambert. ‘Two…’

  Brenda hesitated, as if she had a plan in mind

  ‘One,’ said Lambert, stepping forward, his arms perfectly still as he held the Glock in front of him.

  ‘OK,’ said Brenda. She placed her hands behind her head and moved towards him.

  ‘Slowly,’ said Lambert. ‘On your knees.’

  Brenda shook her head like she was unwilling to obey before muttering under her breath and falling to her knees.

  ‘Interlock your fingers, and lie on your front,’ said Lambert.

  ‘I bet you get off on this,’ said Brenda, falling onto her front with a release of air.

  Sarah placed her knee into the small of the woman’s back before handcuffing her and dragging her to her feet.

  ‘So am I under arrest or are you guys above the law now?’

  ‘I have reason to believe you’re harbouring Sophie and Jane Lambert. Tell me where they are,’ said Lambert.

  ‘Oh, don’t be so bloody ridiculous. I told you before I had nothing to do with any of this. Jonathan was a monster. I’ve come to terms with that now, but I didn’t know anything about what he was doing then and I know nothing about what has happened since.’

  ‘What about your son?’ said Lambert.

  The question shook Brenda’s confidence. Her eyes opened wide, her lip trembled. ‘What about him?’

  ‘Is he a monster as well?’

  ‘Don’t talk about my son that way.’

  Lambert didn’t explain. He wanted to give Brenda time to incriminate herself. ‘Are you going to cooperate or not?’

  ‘If you want to look around, be my guest, though it’s a big farm.’

  ‘What the hell does that mean?’ said Lambert, moving towards the woman.

  ‘I’m just saying, there is a lot of land.’

  ‘This is my wife and daughter you’re talking about. If you have them here, you need to tell me.’

  Brenda leant forward. ‘If I was the kind of person who would kidnap your wife and daughter then I wouldn’t be bothered by your threats or pleas, would I? Search the house and the farm. You’re wasting your time and you’re putting your family at risk.’

  ‘Wait with her,’ said Lambert.

  The farmhouse was bigger than he’d imagined. With its proximity to London, Lambert wondered how Brenda could afford such a place. He counted six bedrooms, each immaculately furnished. Was it a legacy of Jonathan Barnes’ connection to the Manor?

  He searched every room inch by inch, pulling up carpets, throwing beds and furniture on its side. He searched for trapdoors and openings but the place was clean. From the master bedroom he scanned the rolling farmland. Were Sophie and Jane huddled together in the darkness, somewhere in a bunker beneath all these acres of land?

  He ran downstairs, ready to take a risk. Brenda Barnes sat on the kitchen floor, her arms cuffed behind her back.

  ‘I’m going to come clean with you, Brenda,’ said Lambert, placing his gun on the kitchen work surface. ‘I’ve reached a desperate point. My wife and daughter are missing, and I think you and your son are the only people who know where they are.’

  ‘I need to go to the toilet,’ said Brenda, unmoved by Lambert’s remarks.

  ‘You can piss yourself for all I care, but you’re not moving off that spot until you tell me where my wife and daughter are.’

  ‘I can’t tell you what I don’t know.’

  ‘Then let me tell you what I know,’ said Lambert. ‘Your son was arrested this morning on suspicion of murder. It appears the father’s genes passed straight down to him.’

  Brenda appeared genuinely puzzled. ‘Don’t play these tricks with me, Lambert,’ she said, trying to remain calm.

  ‘Suspicion is not really the word. I was there, he was caught red-handed. Your son’s not only capable of murder, I would say he’s an expert at it.’

  Brenda shook her head vigorously. ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘How well do you know your son, Brenda? As well as you knew your husband?’

  ‘Who has he killed?’

  Lambert glanced at Sarah, who shrugged. ‘One of your husband’s friends, Peter Saunders.’ With time running out, Lambert had no option. He told her about the incident at Waverley Manor, how Edmund had trapped him underground with the corpse of Peter Saunders.

  ‘I feel sick,’ said Brenda. ‘This can’t be true.’

  ‘You must have had some inkling, Brenda. You were a DI. You must have known your son was capable of this?’

  Brenda fought back tears. ‘He was always a withdrawn child, very quiet but I never imagined…’

  ‘Was he close to his father?’ asked Sarah.

  Brenda glared at Sarah as if insulted by the question. ‘Yes, they were close but that doesn’t mean anything.’

  ‘If you’re not involved in this, Brenda, it’s time to face facts. Your son murdered Peter Saunders, and I’m pretty sure he is responsible for the deaths of Alistair Beckinsale, Lance Jenkins and Inspector Duggan. He had a vendetta against me for putting your husband in prison and the last piece of that retribution is kidnapping my wife and daughter. And you need to think carefully. You need to help me, Brenda. Where would your son be hiding my family?’

  Brenda shook her head again, clearly in denial. She opened her mouth but no words came out.

  ‘What about Louise?’ said Lambert, breaking the silence.

  Brenda’s head shot upwards at the mention of her daughter’s name. ‘Don’t bring Louise into this.’

  ‘When we asked Edmund where he was holding Sophie and Jane he said, “She has them.” Now, I’m inclined to believe or at least to entertain the idea you were not involved but if you’re not the person he is referring to who else could it be?’

  Brenda began rocking on the spot, shaking her head.

  ‘What was Louise like growing up, Brenda?’ said Lambert.

  ‘Was she the same as Edmund?’ asked Sarah.

  All fight left the woman. She slouched, the colour draining from her face. ‘Could I have some water, please?’ she said.

  Lambert poured her some water and dripped it into her mouth.

  ‘I was an absent mother,’ said Brenda, her throat coated with the liquid. ‘You know how it is in this line of work. I’m afraid my career was my priority. The children were unexpected, not totally wished for. It sounds horrendous to say, but I resented them even before they were born. I begged Jonathan to allow me to have an abortion but he wouldn’t hear of it. They told me it wo
uld be different when they were born but it wasn’t. I didn’t even try to breastfeed them, wanted no part of their life. I cared for them, don’t get me wrong, but I never wanted them. It sounds awful and it is. I think they realized that.’

  Lambert sighed and looked away.

  ‘And Jonathan?’ said Sarah.

  ‘He was the go-to parent, spent all his time with them. Obviously, he was busy as well but he always found time for them when I couldn’t.’

  ‘And Louise – what was Louise like as a child?’

  ‘She was the same as Edmund, very shy and a little bit withdrawn. They were both quite good academically but not very sociable’

  ‘Do you think Louise was capable of helping Edmund?’

  ‘I still can’t quite believe what you’ve said about Edmund.’

  ‘We can help her, Brenda. We can help both of them but you need to help us. You don’t want to have blood on your hands. Where would she have taken them?’

  Brenda closed her eyes. Lambert tried to imagine what she was thinking. He didn’t believe the revelations about her children shocked her as much as she was portraying. She’d been in denial. However poor her maternal instincts, she would have known something was wrong. He’d seen it before, too many times: a parent turning a blind eye to the abusive partner. Jonathan corrupted his children and her silence had aided him.

  ‘She was supposed to come back from university for Christmas but she never did. She hasn’t returned any of my calls.’

  ‘You think she’s still at university?’ said Lambert.

  Brenda paused, struggling with an internal conflict. ‘There’s one thing you may not know,’ she said finally.

  ‘Go on,’ said Lambert.

  Brenda paused for an age before speaking. ‘Peter and Anna Saunders. They were the children’s godparents.’

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Lambert was incredulous. Their godparents? He wasn’t religious, but the irony of Peter Saunders being anyone’s godparent was staggering.