The Burying Place

by Vicky Jones

  “What have you done to your mother, Amanda? Where is she? And why have you got a shotgun in your hand?” As she spoke, she surreptitiously pressed the press-to-talk button on the Airwave cord clipped to her jacket lapel.

  Outside, three shiny silver BMW five series estates in full Force livery glided to a halt at the RVP, signalling the arrival of the Armed Response Vehicles. Each car contained three Authorised Firearm Officers who were armed with Glock 17 9mm pistols and tasers. They also had access to two Heckler & Koch MP5 (SF) 9mm carbines and two Heckler & Koch G36C (SF) carbines that were secured in a gun safe inside the ARV’s boot.

  The senior officer amongst them, PS Lewis, came forward to find Inspector Kay Peters. “Alright, guv,” he said. “What have we got?”

  “Not sure at the moment. Maybe something, maybe nothing. Worst case scenario, we have a mentally unstable woman holding her mother hostage. Even if she hasn’t got a gun, she will have ready access to kitchen knives and the like.”

  PS Lewis grunted. “The bloody DI shouldn’t have gone inside,” he said. “That flies in the face of Force procedure and makes my job ten times harder.”

  “I know,” Peters replied, “but what’s done is done, and if you wanted an easy life you would have chosen a different career, wouldn’t you, so let’s just crack on, shall we?”

  PS Lewis grunted. “I’ll go and get my team ready,” he said. “Call DI Morrison up and tell her to come out right now.”

  As he started to walk away, Peters shouted out, “Wait.” Her hand had flown to the side of her head, where her earpiece was, and the colour had drained from her face.

  “Rachel just transmitted on the back-to-back channel. I just heard her speak to Amanda and the last thing she said was, ‘why have you got a shotgun in your hand?’”

  “Bloody hell,” PS Lewis exclaimed. He sprinted back to his team to get them ready for a rapid deployment.

  Richard Baker and Ben Taylor had watched events unfold with bated breath. “We need to get in there. This is going to end in tragedy,” Baker said, seeing the firearms officer rush off with a look of grim determination in his eyes.

  “The side gate. We’ll go round the back before the AFOs deploy,” Taylor replied.

  “But there are officers around there,” Baker said. “They’ll stop us from getting through.”

  Taylor pulled his warrant card out. “Not if I show them this and say DI Morrison sent us there, they won’t.”

  “Put the shotgun down, Amanda. There’s no need for this to end badly,” Rachel said in an even tone as she heard Peters’ voice in her ear, informing her that the ARVs had arrived and were getting ready to deploy. Rachel kept her hands in the air, and tried to remain completely focused on Amanda. “Michelle, why don’t you go outside and wait for me there,” she said. “I want to have a little chat with Amanda in private.”

  “Stay where you are. Both of you,” Amanda said. “No one is going anywhere.”

  “OK,” Rachel said. “But put the shotgun down in case it goes off accidentally and someone gets hurt.” She squeezed the press-to-talk button, praying that Peters would hear and pass the update onto the AFOs.

  “I don’t think so, detective. If I put this gun down, it’s all over. I’ll be put away for a long time.”

  “And if you don’t, and someone gets hurt, do you think the outcome will be any different?” She risked a glance over her shoulder to check that the curtains were still open. Thankfully, they were. Without making it obvious, Rachel shuffled a step to the left, taking herself closer to the wall by the door. She bumped into Michelle, who was standing by her side, forcing the confused constable to mirror her move. As she had hoped, Amanda took a step to her right to maintain the distance between them. This put her in full view of the window leading out to the street. The Authorised Firearms Officers would now be able to see her every move and would have a clear shot if they needed to take it. Rachel prayed that it wouldn’t come to that.

  “You think I care now? The game’s up for me.” Amanda raised the shotgun to point it straight at Rachel. Her voice bordered on the hysterical, and for the first time Rachel saw just how disturbed she really was.

  “Amanda, no. There are armed officers outside. As long as you don’t point that gun at anyone, they won’t do anything. But as soon as you do, they will see that as a threat to life and act accordingly. Do you understand what I’m saying? They will have no choice but to shoot you dead. So, please, lower the gun for all our sakes.”

  Amanda shrugged. “You act like you are all so perfect, but you’re not. You’re pathetic and very predictable.” The latter comments were directed over her shoulder towards the hallway.

  Rachel and Michelle exchanged confused glances. Who was she talking to? Her mother, perhaps? Rachel wondered.

  When Amanda spoke again, her voice was hard and cruel. “Come on out, you pathetic piece of shit. Surely, you didn’t really think you could sneak up on me without me noticing?”

  Rachel heard the hall floorboards creak as someone moved along them, and then she detected movement out of the corner of her eye. Nothing distinct, just a lighter shadow moving through the greater darkness that surrounded it.

  “Come out and join us, Doctor Baker. Now that you’re here, why don’t you tell Rachel about our sordid little secret?”

  Rachel turned her head to the side. Out of the darkness Baker and another figure emerged from the hallway. Internally she swore. “I gave you a direct order, DC Taylor, to stay outside,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “Sorry,” Taylor replied. “Thought you might need some backup.” He lowered his eyes from Rachel’s scathing stare.

  Amanda laughed. “How professional, DC Taylor.” Her face straightened a half-second later. “Doctor Baker? We’re waiting.”

  Baker looked thoroughly ashamed. “Will you put the gun down if I do?”

  “Of course,” Amanda replied. The tiny grin at the corner of her mouth made her words less than convincing. “As soon as Taylor over there,” she glared at Ben, “admits his involvement too… Oh, I see…” she looked back at Rachel, closer this time. “You’ve got an earpiece in.” Amanda’s face turned murderous, almost a little panicked. “Take that shit out now.”

  Rachel moved slowly, taking great care not to antagonise Amanda, whose finger had crept onto the trigger of the shotgun for the first time. “OK. Amanda, see? It’s just my earpiece. I’m not recording anything. Look, it’s out now,” she said, removing it. Holding it in her hand, Rachel had pressed the transmit button while she spoke in order to update the officers outside that she would no longer be able to hear them.

  “No, you misunderstand me, detective inspector,” Amanda said. “You don’t need to record any of this. Why? Because I am. On my phone, here.” She held up her phone. “I’m in control now.”

  “Rachel… Rachel, don’t. For fuck’s sake, she’s taken her earpiece out.” Inspector Peters fumed. She turned to the AFO team leader. “I don’t like where this is going,” she said. “Tell your team to be ready to move in if this looks like it’s going tits up.”

  “They’re ready,” he assured her, looking around at the three officers who had taken up static cover positions around the front of the house. Two were leaning on the bonnets of parked cars directly outside the house, with clear lines of fire should they need to act. Clad all in black, they each shouldered a Heckler & Koch G36C semi-automatic carbine chambered to fire a 5.56 rifle round. It was an accurate weapon, and both men had informed PS Lewis that since Rachel had shuffled to her left and the suspect had moved to her right, they now had a clear unobstructed shot on the target.

  PS Lewis lowered the binoculars he had been holding to his eyes and transmitted an urgent message. “Standby, we have two unknown males entering the room. The suspect currently has her weapon pointed at the floor between the police officers and the newcomers, but she now has a finger on the trigger. If she points that bloody thing at anyone and she looks like she is going to squeeze the
trigger, you are greenlit to take action. Confirm my message, over.”

  Chapter 22

  “The group was my idea. A way of ridding scum from this town. It seemed like the perfect solution. When Amanda came to me for therapy, after her move here, we spoke at length about how she felt after her father’s suicide. She blamed her mother, I knew that.” Baker paced the living room floor, then switched his gaze from Rachel to Amanda. “All those crazy things you did, Amanda? Especially to that poor cyclist. Leaving him for dead after hitting him. They never found his body, the poor soul, but when you told me about how it intrigued you—excited you, even—I thought I’d found the right person to carry out my mission. If you could call it that?” He shook his head and looked back at Rachel. “I asked a psychopath to kill, then expected her to stop. How could I, of all people, not have realised the insanity of that?”

  “I got a taste for it, you could say,” Amanda chipped in.

  “Richard hired a local fisherman to dump the bodies of those missing people. He knew a spot where the tide was just right and the depth was out of reach. I prepped and cleaned the scene so forensics wouldn’t have a clue,” Taylor admitted.

  Amanda laughed, turning to face Rachel. “You have been round this house more times than I can remember, and have literally been standing on top of where my mum is. You’re a fucking shit detective. And for a drunk, I’m baffled at you not checking out the wine cellar.”

  It was Rachel’s turn to be surprised. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Twice I’ve smelt alcohol on your breath when you’ve been round. And you drove here most times, so you ain’t fucking perfect. I wonder what your boss would say if I told them that? I bet the plod you come with, Barlow, would verify. How the fuck can a copper come round here preaching about doing the right thing when you’ve at least twice been drunk driving?” Amanda shook her head and tutted in mock outrage.

  Rachel’s eyes remained fixed on Amanda, but she felt Michelle’s eyes on her after hearing Amanda’s accusation. “You’re right, Amanda. I’m not perfect, nor do I claim to be. Anyway, we’re not here to discuss that. We’re here to sort this—.” Rachel’s raised voice was overshadowed by a ringing from the hallway.

  After the outgoing message, the voicemail kicked in, and Mrs. Lovell’s strained voice sounded. “Amanda? Are you there? Is Poppy with you? She said she was going over to yours with some shopping, but she hasn’t come home yet. I’ve messaged her twice, but nothing. I’m worried. I’ll try her mobile again. Please call me when you get this message.”

  Seconds later, a mobile phone vibrated on the coffee table.

  “Where’s Poppy, Amanda? That’s her phone, isn’t it?” Rachel said.

  “She shouldn’t have kept letting herself in my home unannounced. Do you have any idea how sick of takeaway dinners I am? It’s her own fucking fault anyway. But DC Taylor, you should be happy your guys turned up when they did.”

  “Why?” Taylor replied.

  “Because if they hadn’t, you’d have to deal with a two-for-one down there.” Amanda laughed.

  “Is Poppy dead as well, Amanda?” Rachel asked, again secretly squeezing the press-to-talk button as she had done periodically.

  “My God, Amanda! What have you done?” Baker exclaimed, moving towards her.

  “Stay where you are,” Amanda growled, raising the shotgun in his general direction.

  “Stop,” Rachel ordered. “Baker, stay where you bloody well are. Amanda, please lower the weapon. If you point that gun at anyone, I can’t guarantee your safety.” Her voice softened. “Please, Amanda, no one has to die today.”

  Baker froze on the spot but he looked imploringly at Rachel. “There are two people down there, in God-knows-what state!” he yelled.

  “I know,” Rachel said.

  “You may as well put that gun to your own head, Amanda,” Taylor spat out. “You’re fucking finished.”

  Amanda looked genuinely furious. “I did the job you were both too chickenshit to do. I took three people out, on your orders, Richard. And I have all of it on audio right here to prove I didn’t do it alone. Oh, and one other thing, Richard. I taped our sessions where you said how much you could help me with my new obsession of watching people die. Just for back-up.”

  “Believe me,” Baker raged back. “If I could change things, and report you to the police when you first told me about your depraved new hobby, I would do. Do us all a favour and pull that trigger against your own sick head.”

  “Get off your moral high ground,” Amanda sneered. “I have no problem taking us all down, and you know I’ll fucking do it.” Her finger twitched on the trigger and the gun in her hand wavered between Baker and Taylor, not quite pointing at them but coming dangerously close.

  Taylor glared back. “If they shoot you, we all win. Your mum, us, everybody else who is on your fucking hit list!” he yelled at Amanda. He looked across at Rachel as if he was seriously thinking about rugby tackling her to the ground and wanted her approval. Rachel gave a barely perceptible shake of her head, making it clear she wanted him to stay still.

  “Hit list? I like that. Yeah, there’s a few. It’s like you read my mind. But I’ve been taping this since Columbo, here, came in.” Amanda cocked the gun towards Rachel, but she had removed her finger from the trigger guard, the detective noticed. “So when I’m dead, they will hear about our little secrets, and Rachel being a drunk. I win either way, really.”

  “Amanda,” Rachel pleaded, “look at me. Not at them, look at me.” She waited for Amanda to do so. “You won’t get out of here alive. You do understand that, don’t you? By now, there will be several highly trained marksmen pointing guns at your head. The only sensible thing to do is lower the shotgun and let me help you.”

  Amanda snorted at the offer. “Time to get one shot off then, at least?” She looked at each person, one after the other, enjoying watching them squirm. “Which one will it be? The Copper? Bent fucking weasel that he is. Or The Pisshead Detective, who gets drunk before her shift, then drives around hungover? Jesus, no wonder you didn’t solve this case sooner. You’ll be the fucking joke of the force by the time my recording of this gets out. Or The Therapist. The man who brought me into this world and opened my eyes to all its glory. Hmmm. Eeny, meeny, miny—.” As she reached Baker, she lifted the shotgun, her finger squeezing the trigger.

  The glass in the front window shattered into a million pieces. Amanda dropped to the ground like a stone. Blood began to trickle out of a clean red hole in her forehead.

  Rachel, like the others, ducked, cradling her head in her hands. Recovering, she rushed forward and stooped over Amanda, kicking the shotgun away from her hand.

  “Suspect down, suspect down,” she said, pressing the transmit button. Stepping over to Amanda’s outstretched arm, she bent down to pick up the phone that had fallen out of Amanda’s jacket. Just as she’d said, Amanda had the voice recorder running. Rachel pressed the stop button and pocketed the phone before checking her pulse. Amanda lay motionless, staring up at her through unseeing eyes. With a loud bang, the front door burst open and the sound of booted feet announced the imminent arrival of the AFOs.

  Half a dozen heavily armed police officers stormed in, looking like ninjas and shouting their standard battle cry of “ARMED POLICE, ARMED POLICE, STAY WHERE YOU ARE AND RAISE YOUR HANDS!” Rachel ignored this and rushed straight through to the utility room, where she lifted up the rug by the washing machine. There she saw the silver ring of the hatch and pulled it up. Carefully, she descended the steps and found the light pull cord. Clicking it on, she saw Poppy lying on her side, bound and gagged. She was motionless. Lying in the blood from Poppy’s head was a dog collar. She bent down to read the tag. ‘Buster. If found, please return to Max Killick, 31 Heath Drive, Kynance Cove.’

  “Fucking hell, what a bitch,” Rachel murmured. She rushed over to Poppy and checked her pulse. In the opposite corner was another figure, their head lolled to one side.

  “Dow
n here!” Rachel called, after hearing the paramedics inside the house. Within seconds they were rousing Poppy and putting her on a stretcher. Rachel stood over the figure lying on her side, still bound to the chair, and slowly, carefully, removed the blindfold. The figure opened their eyes very slowly and blinked into the half-light.

  “You’re safe now, Mrs. Walker,” Rachel said, removing Diana’s gag.

  “Thank God,” Diana replied.

  “What are you going to do now?” Ben Taylor asked after Rachel arrived back outside the house. “About the tape.”

  Rachel glared at him. “The right thing, of course.”

  Taylor clenched his teeth. “We’re all fucked then, aren’t we?”

  Rachel strode away, after seeing Hargreaves beckon her over.

  “What the fuck, Rachel? How did we not know her mother was in the fucking cellar? The press is going to crucify us for this.” Hargreaves’ face remained calm, in spite of the fury she clearly felt.

  “I’m fine, thank you for asking,” Rachel replied. Hargreaves’ eyes nearly bulged out of her head at the impudence of that, but it shut her up for a few seconds. Rachel sighed. “It’s going to take a few days to process the crime scene and collate all the evidence,” she said. “There’s a lot we still don’t know yet, but I’ll have an interim report on your desk outlining the basics ASAP.”

  “You had better do,” Hargreaves hissed back. “There are already half a dozen reporters here, circling like vultures, and they won’t stop pestering me until I throw them some scraps. I want to see you in my office first thing in the morning, understood?”

  “Ma’am.”

  “Good. Now gather everyone who was involved in this clusterfuck together and get them back for a hot debrief. Then I want them all to write the most comprehensive set of fucking notes they have ever committed to paper. You’ll have to attend the Police Incident Procedure with Inspector Peters and the AFOs involved in the shooting. I’ll let you know where that’s going to be held as soon as it’s confirmed. In the meantime, I’ll smooth things over with the reporters after I get them on the right side of the fucking cordon.” She looked over at them and flashed them a murderous glare. “But there’d better be one mother of an explanation for all of this.”