Craig grinned. He got himself comfortable at the keyboard, as if waiting for something. Then, just at the very moment their man turned his machine off, he froze the screen. For a second or two the reflection shone back at them. He was caught in his own blank monitor. Craig zoomed in, and it was just possible to see him face on.
Calladine and Ruth both craned forward and then looked at each other in disbelief.
“No!” Ruth gasped. “I don’t believe it. That can’t be right. There must be some mistake. This must have been when he was checking something for us. That’s got to be it, hasn’t it, sir?”
But Calladine knew it was no mistake. His clothes gave him away. This was the man who’d taken Lydia. There was no way round this, upsetting as it was going to be for all of them. But there was no getting away from the raw facts. He’d suspected all along that Michael Morpeth was one step ahead; that he was getting information he shouldn’t have had access to. Morpeth knew exactly how to operate, and now Calladine knew why. Ignoring Ruth’s cries, he got on his phone again and spoke to Imogen.
“Imogen, has Dodgy come back in yet?”
“No, guv, he’s got a problem at home. He rang in earlier. Apparently his Granny is ill and he’s had to go and see to her.”
“Do you know where she lives?”
“Yep, she lives at Hobrise Farm. Leaving Hopecross, it’s on the road towards the West Yorkshire border. For the last few weeks Dodgy’s been staying with her, that’s how I know.”
A spot that was both isolated and difficult to find. Perfect.
Calladine asked to be put through to DCI Jones.
“Sir, the man we want is Michael Morpeth, Hobrise Farm, on the border road. He’s kidnapped Lydia Holden and God knows who else, so we need a full back-up team up there, and an ambulance. Make sure someone’s armed as well.”
This time Jones didn’t quibble about the costs. “There is something else, sir, and it isn’t good. Michael Morpeth has been using an alias, and we know him.”
There was a silence.
“We know him as Michael Dodgson, sir, Dodgy. Our Dodgy.”
Ruth folded her arms and started to pace the floor. She couldn’t believe — she wouldn’t believe it. Something had to be wrong. She looked again at the frozen image on the screen and shook her head.
“We should get going.” Calladine made for the door.
“He’s been planning this for years, hasn’t he? He’s waited all this time to get back at Ice and the others because of what they did to his brother. He even changed his surname just to fool us. But Kelly said he was dark — dark haired, don’t you remember? Dodgy is blonde.”
“Hair’s easily dyed, Ruth,” he muttered irritably. He averted his eyes from Ruth’s gaze. He was upset. He felt severely let down. This was one of his own.
“Are we going with this, sir?” Ruth was floundering, looking for guidance. “Is it even possible? Do we really think that . . . do you think that Dodgy’s capable of doing all those things?”
Calladine had suspected nothing. Dodgy had been shaping up to be a good cop. So why go and ruin everything like this? Calladine and Ruth walked outside into the cold evening air. He supposed the question he should be asking was why had Dodgy put himself through all the training to become a detective in the first place, if all he wanted was to commit murder? But then wasn’t that the perfect training ground?
His phone rang; he was half expecting it to be Imogen But it wasn’t. It was Lydia.
* * *
“Tom! I’ve knocked him out, but he might come round, and if he does he’ll kill me! You need to come. I need help at once.”
His relief at hearing her voice was almost overwhelming. He could hardly believe he was actually talking to her. He’d half expected never to see or hear her again. But she’d made it. Imogen had been right to call her resourceful.
“Calm down. I know what’s happened, and I know where you are. There’s police and an ambulance on the way. Get outside right away; hide somewhere and don’t make yourself known until you see the lights. The officers will be armed. So don’t worry, they’ll get him.”
“My signal’s breaking up . . .” She tapped the phone against the wall in frustration. But it was no use — Tom had gone. At least help was on its way, but how long would she have to wait?
The front door was locked and there was no key. She had no choice but to go out the back door. Lydia tiptoed back through the kitchen and past the two prone bodies. It was a nightmare, like something from a cheap horror movie. He groaned and moved his legs, making her jump. Then his eyelids fluttered open — just for a second — but it frightened the life out of her. He couldn’t come round yet, he just couldn’t. She was terrified and shaking again. Lydia knew she had no choice — it was either him or her. She grabbed the poker that was still lying on the floor where she’d left it. She aimed at his head, closed her eyes and gave him a second whack. The poker struck his head with an awful clunk of bone and iron. It did the trick, he was out cold again.
The back door was bolted top and bottom. But the bolts were stiff and wouldn’t give. She cried out with frustration and tried again, using all her strength, but she was all fingers and thumbs. She needed to calm down; try again, and slowly this time . . . Finally she eased them open and ran full pelt into the back garden.
The moon was hazy, as though covered in gauze. There were no houses nearby that she could run to, no street lights. In fact, she couldn’t even see a road — just a dirt track leading up to the house. What to do? Where to go? She had to find somewhere; for she believed absolutely that if he came round and got free, he’d find her, no matter what she did. She hunkered down behind a huge oak tree, shivering with fear and cold, praying for help to arrive soon.
Chapter 24
The Pennine road that led over the tops into West Yorkshire was narrow and dark, but Ruth and Calladine were racing. Then his phone rang.
“They’ve got her, sir, she’s safe.” Imogen was barely able to hide her excitement. The mobile was on loudspeaker, and both detectives heard the good news. “She’s in the ambulance on her way to the General.”
“Handy Man — Michael Morpeth?” He didn’t mention Dodgy’s name. He wanted to tell his team personally.
“He’s been arrested by uniform. He’s on his way to the General too. Lydia gave him quite a whack, and he’s still groggy.”
He smiled — good girl. “Okay — we’ll turn around and meet them there. Thanks, Imogen.”
“By the way, sir, I don’t know how important it is now but the woman who lives at the farm — is Annie Dodgson. She’s Dodgy’s granny — did you know that, sir?
Calladine merely grunted a reply. So much for wanting to do this gently.
“Well Julian’s people are all over that place and he rang to say she’s on all those pills you were looking for — every last one of them.”
That didn’t surprise him. The pieces were all falling the right way up at last. What was the betting that Dodgy had changed his name from Morpeth to Dodgson when he went to live with his granny? New name, new identity, and then a career that would teach him all the skills he’d need to avoid detection. So why had he craved the publicity so much? What was that all about? “We’ll make for the General,” he told Ruth. “My mum, Lydia and our man, plus Rocco — we can go see them all.”
The fact that Lydia had been found had lightened his mood but he still had no idea how bad things were. Or what he was going to tell the team. How to deal with the fact that one of your own was so evil; committing murder right under their very eyes?
First, he pulled over to swap places with Ruth. “Do you mind driving us back? I’m bushed. I’m sorry, we’re going to be late again and you’ve missed your date with Jake. Will he understand?”
“He’ll have to if he wants to keep on seeing me.” She grinned.
“I can’t wait to get home tonight. A couple of beers and a good long lie in tomorrow.”
“It’s Monika’s birthday tomorro
w. Aren’t you supposed to be staying with her tonight?”
“Damn! I forgot and I didn’t make the Antiques Centre either. D’you reckon she’ll understand?”
“No! She’ll be bloody annoyed — and with every right. You’re a disgrace, Tom Calladine, and well you know it.”
“So what am I going to do?”
Ruth delved into her handbag and produced a rectangular velvet box and a birthday card.
“Here, give her this. Check it out and then I’ll wrap it while you write the card.”
The necklace was perfect. A string of turquoise stones set in silver.
“And you owe me fifty quid. I won’t charge you anything for going.”
“You’re a real mate, Ruth Bayliss. I won’t forget this, I promise. I’ll drop this off later on my way home. But between now and then you have to help me come up with an excuse not to stay the night.”
“No way — she’s my friend, remember? I’ve saved your bacon with the present, and after that you’re on your own.”
“You’d be doing me an enormous favour . . . You do work on my team, so you need to keep me sweet.”
“I’ve done enough with the present. I won’t lie to her for you, so don’t ask me again.” And Ruth stuck her nose in the air.
* * *
“Who first?” They were pacing the hospital corridor yet again.
“You’d better go see Lydia, and I’ll check on Rocco. Then we’ll both see our man.”
Lydia Holden was sitting in a cubicle in the Emergency Department. She was wearing a hospital gown. The sheet she’d arrived in had been bagged for forensics. A sober thought and one that filled Calladine with dread. What had the bastard done to her?
It was such a relief to see her alive and well. He flung his arms around her, and she nestled into his chest. He hardly dared ask. She looked okay — a little mud on her legs and arms, but what had Morpeth done to her? He looked into her eyes and saw the tears welling.
“Did he . . . did he hurt you?”
She lowered her eyes and shook her head. “It was awful, Tom. I thought I was going to die in the most dreadful way.” The tears were now rolling down her cheeks. “He touched me, he would have done more, raped me but the old lady saved my bacon.” She looked up into his face, hers tired and worn. “It was close, too close. If she hadn’t fallen I’d be dead. He’s a bloody maniac and you know him, you all know him.”
“Yes I realise that now. But he was clever, until today he ran us ragged.”
“You’ll have to up your game, detective,” she replied, her tone a little lighter.
“Are they keeping you in?”
“I don’t want to stay. They’ve suggested counselling, but I’ll see.” She wiped her eyes. “That man’s an animal. That accident the old lady had, saved my life. I was lucky, Tom, but it was far too close and it’ll take a while before I’m back to normal. The experience is going to give me nightmares for months, I know it is.”
“We have him now, so you’re safe. He can’t hurt you or anyone else. You have to try and relax. But you still can’t print anything — not yet. You’re going to have to wait until after the trial, Lydia.”
“Do you really think that’s all that bothers me,” she retorted wriggling away from him. “I’ve been kidnapped, strapped naked to a bench and molested by a bloody lunatic. Do you really think I want to write about that?”
Yet again he’d proved he was first class at putting his foot in it. Calladine took her hand gently. “Sorry, I’m beat and my brains not in gear. I’ll help, you can stay with me, or I’ll stay with you. I’ll take care of you. You don’t have to worry,” he assured her.
“Just as long as you don’t expect too much for a while. I know I come across as one hard-faced, feisty female but this has shaken me up. I don’t recognise the person in here, Tom,” she said tapping her head.
“If you want to go home now, then I can take you,” he offered. There was no way he could spend the night with Monika, not now.
“I’m going to have to leave you for a few minutes, that’s all. I’ve got my mother and a colleague in here too. I’ll take a statement tomorrow. You can get it all out. I’ll be your sounding board.”
He hugged her and then left to find his mother. What was happening to him? Lydia Holden had got to him in a way he didn’t recognise. She’d been hurt and he wanted to protect her. It was a feeling he’d not had about anything or anyone for quite a while.
His phone rang. It was Imogen again.
“Sir, he had Mash at the farm. He’s dead I’m afraid, and Doctor Hoyle’s lot have taken him. Uniform will tell his mum shortly, but not the detail; that’s too ghastly. Julian says to tell you he’s taken a whole load of tools from the cellar. He’s going to test them against the slivers of metal found on the other bodies.”
Everything falling into place then. That was a relief. There’d be no chance of him wriggling off the hook in court.
* * *
Freda Calladine was very poorly. She was in a side room of a medical ward. She was sleeping, struggling for each breath. He’d been told it was her legs, so why was she so ill? There was a young woman sitting beside her, someone he’d not seen before. Calladine said hello, presuming she was from the home.
“How’s she doing?”
“They say she has a bad chest infection. The antibiotics aren’t working properly, and they seem a bit dubious about the outcome, to be honest.”
This was all he needed. “No one rang me,” he said lamely. Not that he could have done much, given the pace of today. “Is Monika coming in?”
“Who?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you were from the home, here to keep an eye on her.”
“No, I’m not, but I’m happy to stay with her for a bit if you’re busy.”
If she wasn’t from the home, and she certainly wasn’t dressed like a nurse, who was she?
“Are you some sort of volunteer visitor?”
She laughed at this and shook her head.
“You’re her son, aren’t you?”
Calladine nodded.
“I thought you might be. You are exactly as Freda described.” She laughed. “This is going to come as a bit of a shock,” she paused, “We’ve not met before, and that’s not your fault or mine. I’m here because Freda is family: she’s my granny.”
He wondered at first if he’d heard her right. How could that be? In order for that to be so, he’d have to have a daughter!
“I’m not making myself very clear,” she apologised. “I should have said straight away. I was hoping to do this differently but Granny being so ill put paid to that. I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to put this.” She looked at the inspector and then got to her feet and held out her hand.
“I’m Zoe — Zoe Calladine.”
He blinked. Zoe Calladine? More confusion, and after the day he’d just had, he wasn’t up to working it out.
“I’m Rachael’s daughter. Rachael Calladine — your ex-wife.”
Now he really was confused. Rachael had had a child but why keep his name?
“I’m still not making myself very clear, am I?” She paused, “This is going to come as a huge surprise, but you’re my father.”
Calladine blinked then stared at her. Was this some sort of wind-up? Who was this girl and why spin him a tale like this?
“I’m afraid Mum wasn’t altogether honest with you all those years ago. She kept me to herself. When she went off to Bristol she was a few weeks pregnant. When I was born, she’d begun a new life so she never told you.”
Now that did sound like Rachael. He’d listened to his mother’s ramblings all week, but he’d not taken her seriously. As far as he knew Rachael and he had never had a child. No, of that he was certain. It hadn’t been that bad a day!
“My mum was pregnant when you split up,” Zoe explained again, seeing the confusion on his face. “She had no idea at the time you separated, and when she found out, she had a new life and didn’t want
the complication of having you involved. Not my words — hers,” Zoe insisted. “She only told me the truth recently.”
“Why on earth didn’t she tell me? I don’t understand . . . I could have helped. I could have supported you both.”
“She didn’t want that. She always said that it had to be a clean break. So, baby or not, she didn’t want you to know. She told me about the break-up; you were never a secret. In fact there was a photo of you kept on the sideboard at home. It’s just that she lied; she told me that you’d had an affair with another woman and you didn’t want her or me. She also told me that you weren’t interested in getting to know me.”
“That’s certainly not true. There was never another woman, not then. It was the job. I’m sorry, Zoe.” He shook his head. “This is a huge shock. I’d no idea, not even a suspicion. If I’d known about you, I’d have been there straight away. This is a lot to take in,” he said, rubbing his aching head. “How could she do this? Keep you secret all this time?”
Was she telling him the truth? Was this young woman really who she said she was. But if she wasn’t, why lie — what could she possibly hope to gain?
Zoe smiled and sat down again. “It doesn’t surprise me. She was like that. She cut all ties with you and with this place. She never came back, not once. My mum left, and that was that. She got on with things and she raised me. She studied and got a good job. She did very well. I’m proud of her.”
“Has she come with you? What does she think of you coming here and making yourself known to me finally?”
“She wouldn’t approve, but it doesn’t matter because she’ll never know now.”
The words didn’t sink in — it was all too much and his brain was reeling. First Lydia, now this. Add to the mix a bent cop, his sick mother, plus the Monika problem, and it’d been one helluva day.
“Shouldn’t you phone her or something?”
“I can’t. You see my mum — Rachael — died three months ago.”
Calladine sank onto the edge of his mother’s bed. Rachael dead. For heaven’s sake, she was the same age as he was. He felt as if someone had just kicked him in the guts. He might not have seen her in years, but they had been married, been in love, at one time.
DEAD WRONG a gripping detective thriller full of suspense Page 17