‘Flatter him … that might work,’ mused Hardcastle.
‘Does Karen’s mum cry herself to sleep?’ asked Ruth.
Winter shrugged. ‘No idea, but it’s an emotive image. It would take a cold-hearted bastard not to care about the quantity of human misery the missing kids’ and Karen’s families are coping with.’
‘Might be worth a try,’ Ruth said. ‘But look at the Catholic church and their abuse scandals. They were pretty resilient when it came to human misery, most of it that of children.’
‘True, but the way I’m thinking is, if we go in hard and it doesn’t work, we’ve got nothing left. If we take this approach and it doesn’t work, we can always change tack and nail the bastard to the wall after that,’ said Winter.
‘Good enough, people, let’s give it a go.’ Hardcastle nodded to the window in his office, where Webb and Evans could be seen escorting John Surtees through to the interview room. ‘Here’s our man now. Good luck.’
***
‘Mr Surtees, thank you for coming in,’ said Ruth, holding out her hand.
Surtees rose and took her hand, shook it almost before he had realised what he was doing, even though he was annoyed at being pulled in to the station.
‘DCI Crinson and DI Winter. How nice to see you both. Again.’
‘Please, Mr Surtees, have a seat.’ Ruth ignored the barb in Surtees’ comment. She didn’t want to display any overt hostility. Not yet, anyway. Bester knocked, then brought in a round of teas. He put the tray on the table and Ruth dished them out.
‘Thank you,’ said Surtees. He still looked huffy, but the civil greeting and the simple act of taking tea together, even the disgusting stuff the machine spat out, seemed to make him feel more at ease.
‘We invited you here because we need your help,’ Ruth told him.
‘Whatever I can do.’ Surtees was visibly expanding, more confident of where he stood by the minute.
‘We told you about our colleague, DI Karen Fitzgerald, going missing.’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, not only was she missing, but so was her car, although none of her things had been taken. We searched her house again today, however, and we found something very strange.’
‘Oh?’ Surtees raised his eyebrows as he sipped his tea.
‘Her car has been returned, but some of her clothes and other possessions have disappeared.’
‘You don’t think she might have been responsible for that? Could she have gone away on holiday, perhaps? A spur of the moment thing, an impulse, without telling anyone. The stress of the job … I certainly could understand if someone trying to deal with that felt they needed to get away.’
‘No, sir, we’re absolutely certain that Karen wasn’t responsible. She has family to consider, her mum is in poor health.’
‘That does sound worrying, but I don’t see how I can help.’
Ruth took a leap of faith. ‘We understand some of the people from the Tabernacle were spreading the word of the Lord in the area at the time the car was returned and the other possessions taken.’
‘That’s possible. We do quite a bit of outreach work.’
‘We were hoping you or your people had seen something.’
‘Such as?’
‘Someone parking a car, going into Karen’s house. Maybe if we could take the people who were working in the area back to Karen’s street and point her house out to them, it might jog someone’s memory.’
‘Well, I’m not sure who it would have been. What day was this?’
‘Earlier this week, Mr Surtees. Someone could have seen something and not realised it was important, because it looked so ordinary to them. However, it could be something of great significance to us.’
‘I could ask Barbara Neville, she usually organises things like that. I could telephone her now, if you like.’
‘Could you give us her address, Mr Surtees? I’ll arrange for someone to go round and speak to her.’
‘Well, I don’t know. Some of your people can be very abrupt. I don’t want her upset in any way.’
Ruth took a deep breath, counted to five. She could sense Winter fidgeting beside her and, while she shared his frustration, she didn’t want to let it show. ‘I’ll ask PC Gray to go, sir. Charlie’s a Christian himself, he’s very sensitive to the situation we’re dealing with here.’
‘Is he the nice young man with the curly hair?’
‘Yes sir, that’s him.’
‘Oh, well, then, I should think that will be okay. Do you have a pen and some paper?’
Ruth and Rob Winter watched while Surtees took his time remembering Barbara Neville’s address and writing it down, then Winter took it and headed out to despatch Gray and Mills to the house.
‘We want the names and addresses of anyone who was in the area,’ he told them. ‘Be nice but take no bull. These people are very good at prevarication.’
Ruth waited with Surtees in the interview room until Winter came back. ‘We’re all very worried about Karen Fitzgerald,’ she told him.
‘Yes, I can understand that,’ he said, fiddling with the now empty plastic cup his tea had been in.
‘Karen’s mother depends on her for day to day help. She suffers from heart trouble, so she’s limited in what she can do for herself.’
‘I see.’
‘Karen visits her almost every day. She does her shopping, laundry, housework … the things that keep a person’s life ticking over. I suppose the things that make us feel safe and cared for.’
Surtees nodded. Ruth ploughed on.
‘Karen’s sister is also worried sick, about Karen and about their mum. Mum cries a lot with the worry, she told me. She cries through the day and she cries herself to sleep every night. The stress of this could kill her.’
‘Goodness me.’
‘If she dies as a result of the stress of her daughter’s disappearance, that would be terribly hard to bear.’ Winter came back in the room. ‘I was just telling Mr Surtees that Karen’s mum’s heart might not be able to take the strain of this, she’s so worried and upset,’ she told him. ‘Poor woman might die.’
‘Well,’ said Winter, ‘I sincerely hope that doesn’t happen. ‘But if it does, then it would be murder, pure and simple. A blameless lady killed for no reason.’
Surtees took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow.
‘So you can understand why we want so much to find Karen, Mr Surtees,’ she told him. ‘It’s not just that we’re concerned for her welfare, although obviously we are, very much. The longer she’s missing, the lower the chances we’ll find her alive. But it’s also her family. Her sister Claire, and Claire’s husband and children. She’s got a boy and a girl who love their Auntie Karen to bits. But mainly her mum, Alice.’ She shook her head. ‘Poor woman. I would hate for this to be the death of her.’ She looked in Winter’s direction, but avoided his eyes. ‘Have the boys gone out now, Rob?’ she asked him.
‘Yes, Ruth. Charlie and Rick are on their way to have a chat with Mrs Neville.’
‘Well, I think that’s it for now, Mr Surtees. Thank you so much for coming in to help us.’ She stood and Surtees did, too. She shook his hand. ‘DI Winter will arrange a car to take you home. Take good care, now. Stay safe. I’d hate you or your family to have the worry Karen’s family do just now. Goodbye.’
***
Ten minutes later, Rob Winter and Ruth Crinson were back in Hardcastle’s office.
‘Well, how did it go?’ he asked them.
‘Ruth was brilliant,’ Rob told him. ‘I didn’t hear it all, but if just what I heard doesn’t guilt trip his religious sensibilities into overdrive, I don’t know what will.’
‘I’m certain it got through,’ said Ruth. ‘His body language, speech, physical response … we’ve got the right man. Or at least, one of the right people. He’s involved, that I don’t doubt. Now we need proof and we need Karen back. And Annie Snowdon and the other kids.’
‘What the hell do you think h
e’s doing with them all?’ Winter asked.
‘I suspect Karen went snooping and was caught. She’s always been impatient and the red tape was driving her round the bend,’ Hardcastle said. ‘As for the kiddies, I don’t know. If Annie Snowdon is still alive, it doesn’t seem to have been the usual rape and murder scenario.’
‘Sex slaves?’ mused Winter.
Ruth shook her head. ‘That doesn’t seem to me to ring true,’ she said. ‘Not in Surtees’ case, anyway. I don’t get that kind of vibe from him at all.’
‘Some weird religious thing?’ Winter barked out a laugh. ‘Car valeting slaves. They seem to do a lot of that.’
‘Well, whatever it is, let’s hope we find them soon,’ said Hardcastle. ‘Pub? I’m buying.’
***
‘Stop that right now!’ the man snapped at Karen Fitzgerald, who had been banging on the walls and shouting loud enough to wake the dead. ‘You have clothes and toiletries. What more do you want?’
‘I want something to read, you fucker. I’m bored shitless. If you plan on keeping me here, you’d better keep me amused.’
‘You’ve been told about your language.’
‘My language is the least of your worries. Wait until my colleagues find out where I am. You’re going to be locked up for a very long time.’ Karen walked to the end of the bed, her movement accompanied by the rattle of a chain. ‘And as for this …’ she picked up the chain and shook it at him. ‘You’ll fucking pay for this.’ She had gone to sleep after drinking drugged tea and woken up to find the cuffs and rope had been removed, but that a bracket which had been fitted to the wall had a chain attached to it that led to a manacle around her ankle.
‘It’s your own fault. You can’t be trusted.’
‘I can’t be trusted? Ha!’
Karen had measured the length of the chain against the distance to the door where the man stood. She reckoned she had one shot. She flipped the chain onto the bed to give herself a little extra room to manoeuvre, then sprang across the room. She caught him by surprise and before he had a chance to slam the door or step back, she punched him as hard as she could and was gratified by the force of the impact. He cried out in pain and surprise as blood spurted from his nose and Karen followed up with a left to the side of his head. He staggered back beyond her reach and she grinned, delighted with the damage she’d caused.
‘Not so easy when it’s not just kids you’re picking on, is it, motherfucker!’
‘You’ll be punished for that, you … you …’ The man’s hands were covered in blood. Karen heard feet running up the stairs then the creepy kid from the kitchen joined him. She pulled the door shut, blocking Karen’s view of the man and his burst nose.
‘Bring me some fucking books!’ she roared.
‘You’ll get no dinner tonight!’ the man shouted, his words sounding muffled and nasal as a result of the damage to his nose.
‘So what? It all tastes like shite anyway!’
Karen fell back on the bed laughing, delighted at the mayhem she’d managed to cause, but as she heard the footsteps and voices fade and was left on her own again, the euphoria quickly died away.
***
‘So, have you and Leanne bumped into each other yet?’ asked Ruth. She was back in the visiting room at Weardale prison, catching up with Tina.
‘Not yet. I’ve been lucky. She got into a fight on her first day and she’s been in segregation.’
‘Any word from you-know-who?’
Tina pulled a face and shook her head. ‘It’s like I’ve died. Wait ‘til you find Annie and I get out; she’ll have a hell of a job explaining the two of us to her perfect husband then.’ She rubbed her eyes. ‘Have you found anything out about Annie or Karen yet?’
Ruth shook her head. ‘Not yet, but we’re following up some promising new leads, so fingers crossed.’ She fished in her bag. ‘Tina, I want you to take a look at this man.’ She showed her a photograph. ‘Have you seen him before?’
Tina looked at the picture. ‘Oh, my God,’ she exclaimed, then sat staring at it, her hand over her mouth, her eyes wide.
‘What is it?’
She took her hand away from her face to speak. ‘Ruth, that’s him. I know it was a long time ago, but I’m certain that’s the man who drove the car the night Annie was taken.’
Chapter 16
Ruth went into the office like a whirlwind, gathered up Winter as she went past his desk and headed straight for Hardcastle’s office. She knocked, but didn’t wait for a response, just barged straight in. Hardcastle was on the phone. One look at Ruth’s face told him she had important news. ‘I’ll call you back,’ he said into the mouthpiece, then dropped the handset into the cradle. ‘What is it?’ he asked Ruth.
‘I’ve just been to see Tina Snowdon. On a hunch, I took a photograph of John Surtees with me, something we scanned in from one of the church tracts. When I showed it to her, she positively identified him as her and Annie’s abductor.’
‘Well done, Ruth,’ Winter exclaimed. ‘Nice work.’
‘Why the hell didn’t we think of it before? Good work, DCI Crinson,’ said Hardcastle. ‘Now, go and pick the bastard up.’
‘He’s at Karen’s street with Barbara Neville and a few of the other church folk. Webb was hoping if he took them there, they’d get something out of them about Karen’s disappearance, or that the neighbours might recognise them. Gray and Mills are there, too,’ Winter said.
‘Contact Webb. Tell him to bring them all back here when they’re done.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Winter went out to make the call.
‘We’ve got him,’ Hardcastle said, punching his fist into his palm. ‘Now we need to take his life apart. I want to know everything about this bastard. I want a watertight case against him and I want Karen and those kids back safe.’
‘Sir, when we arrest him, it might set off a chain reaction.’
‘I know. That’s one of the reasons why I want them all back here. You arrest him in front of the group; that should put the fear of God into them. Then we get them separated out and question them individually. We’ll keep them isolated here as long as we can, they’re all bloody guilty. I want every single person involved identified and then punished for what they’ve done.’
Hardcastle was on a crusade, which Ruth had to admit seemed appropriate, but which meant, if his mood was picked up, that the team might get gung-ho and start to make mistakes. Everything had to be checked and double checked. Every item of evidence logged. Every statement signed and dated. Every lead followed to its logical conclusion. Nothing missed or skimmed over.
There was a tap at the door and then Winter re-entered the room. ‘Done, sir. And we have the preliminary forensics back from Karen’s car.’
‘Anything?’
‘Very little, sir, which is a bloody miracle considering what her car was like.’
Ruth allowed herself a smile. Fitzgerald’s car was fondly known as ‘the skip’. ‘The young people of the church must have earned their salvation cleaning that out,’ she observed.
‘Probably did most of it elsewhere, said Rob. ‘They certainly didn’t do all the cleaning on the drive when they brought the car back, most likely just wiped their own prints off and vacuumed it out.’
‘I think our luck’s changing with this one, said Hardcastle. ‘And it’s about bloody time.’
***
Webb led the way back into the office, followed by Surtees and the other people from the church. Gray and Mills brought up the rear. As they entered the main body of the office, Ruth Crinson, Rob Winter and Philip Hardcastle strode forward to meet them. Webb stepped aside and Ruth went toe to toe with Surtees.
‘John Surtees, I am arresting you on suspicion of the abduction of Annabelle Snowdon and the attempted abduction of Christina Snowdon. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Surtees’ jaw dropped. Winter stepped up and took him by the arm. ‘This way, sir.’ Surtees allowed himself to be led away without saying a word. The church folk milled in confusion, then turned and tried to make for the door. Mills barred the way.
‘We need to ask each of you some questions before you leave here,’ he told them. ‘I take it you have no objection to helping the police with their enquiries?’
‘If anyone does object, PC Mills, then arrest them immediately.’ Hardcastle’s tone brooked no argument. He looked at the assembled church members, Barbara Neville and three other people. There was another interview room, plus Hardcastle’s office that they could use for questioning. Then again, he thought, there are half a dozen holding cells standing empty. ‘PC Mills, take Mrs Neville to interview room two. PC Gray, take the others to the holding cells. Put them in alternate cells and leave the doors open. Stay there with them.’ He looked them over, kept his eyes on each person long enough for them to feel uncomfortable. ‘At this stage of the proceedings, only Mr Surtees is actually under arrest.’ He looked at Gray. ‘That may, of course, change, depending upon what we find out.’
‘This way please, Mrs Neville,’ Mills said and led her off to the interview room. Gray nodded in the opposite direction and the three young men who were left headed off toward the cells.
‘Neville first, sir?’ asked Ruth. ‘That way Surtees can sweat over his sins while he waits.’
‘Normally I’d agree, but did you see his reaction? He’s completely wrong-footed, he really thought he had us fooled. We sweat him, he has time to come up with a story. We go straight in, and go in hard, Ruth, no kid gloves, and we might just scare the truth out of him.’
‘Whatever we do, it’s a gamble. Sir, do we know what they got out of the church group today on the visit to Karen’s street?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Surtees is ready whenever you are. He’s in the interview room with PC McAllister,’ said Winter, as he came over to join them.
‘Good enough,’ said Hardcastle, going on to outline what they had in mind.
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