Brutal Pursuit

by Diane M Dickson

  “No, no I want to be here,” Tricia said.

  Tanya did not want to become embroiled in a pointless conversation which could only cause more friction. She turned to pick up her bag. “I think your brother’s right, Mrs Baker. For now, the best thing would be for me to leave you in peace and go and do my job. Do you need a doctor? Is there anyone else that I can contact for you?”

  Robin Turner dragged himself away from his sister and stood. “We can manage, thank you. If we need anyone, we can contact them ourselves. Now, my sister could probably use some privacy and quiet.”

  As they made their way back towards the garage, Paul Harris sniffed. “Bit above himself under the circumstances, wasn’t he? That Robin bloke.”

  “He’s upset, I suppose, and a bit protective of his sister. There is one thing though that is a bit puzzling. Can you contact the officer who picked her up from her office, and find out exactly what she’s been told?

  “Apart from that, I don’t think we can do anything else here so I’ll drop you back, and we might as well call it a day, unless the rest of the team have anything more to tell us.”

  Chapter 38

  The team was winding down by the time Tanya and Paul Harris arrived at the office. Jamie Mulholland was still missing, enquiries among his friends had led to nothing, and there was still no answer from his phone.

  Tanya spent some time peering at the video, stopping and starting it, trying to zoom in to an image that was blurred and indistinct. “I can see what you mean,” she told Kate. “But it’s so unclear.” She shook her head.

  “Okay, tomorrow I’ll have a word with the DCI, maybe we should get a warrant and search his place. It’s odd that he’s gone missing right now. We have to wait until tomorrow for confirmation about Peter Baker, but on the surface, it looks as though the horror simply became too much for him. But let’s not jump to conclusions about that.”

  “How do you mean, boss?” Kate asked.

  “Not sure, there was just something that seemed strange. I need to think about it. Mull it over. Let’s keep an open mind. Where’s DI Finch?”

  “He left early, ma’am.”

  “Did he say why, Kate?”

  The other woman looked uncomfortable and it was Sue Harris who spoke out. “He said he might just as well go and get an early night because there wasn’t much for him to do.”

  Tanya caught the glimpse of something in the dark eyes of the younger officer. Devilment of some sort, a declaration of allegiance? He should have let her know that he was intending to slope off early, at least as a courtesy. He was the same rank now, but she was SIO; she would have to bring him back into line. Her heart sank at the thought of the confrontation. She really didn’t need it.

  * * *

  Sitting in her living room later, a glass of wine on the table beside her laptop, she paused for thought. The house was quiet around her, the cleaner had been in again and there was a smell of polish and detergent. For the first time since Charlie had moved in all those weeks ago the house truly felt like her own space again. No Charlie, no Serena.

  The silence was broken by the chime of her phone. She tutted but then, when she saw Charlie’s ID, she smiled.

  “Can you talk?” he asked.

  “Yes, I’m at home. Just going over things, filling in my occurrence book. We had another death today. Looks like suicide but…”

  “But?”

  “Oh, I don’t know, there something in the back of my mind that just keeps niggling at me.”

  “Well, stick with it, Tanya. Your instincts have not let you down before. Remember that handbag.” He referred to a piece of evidence that had been a breakthrough and vital clue in Tanya’s first major case. “Your gut has served you well in the past.”

  “Yeah. Anyway, what’s happening?”

  “I wanted to let you know about Jamie Mulholland. I’ve sent a copy of his records through, but I thought I’d give you a quick rundown. It’s not much really.”

  “Oh, you found something then?”

  “Yes, having his NI number made it easy. He was born in Kirkby, on the outskirts of ‘The pool’.”

  He made her laugh by putting on a fake scouse accent.

  “Parts of it, well most of it really, are pretty rough. He was what they call ‘a bit of a scally.’”

  “A scally – what’s that?” Tanya asked.

  She heard him chuckle.

  “Well I suppose it must come from scallywag and that’s about it really. In and out of trouble but nothing too serious. Him and his brother, Sean. Twocing, mostly older, cheap cars for a joy ride, the ones that are easy to get into and hot wire. A bit of shoplifting, the odd drunk and disorderly, just petty crime and nuisance really. Nothing for just over two years though.”

  “Oh, okay, that fits. I suppose he could have escalated but why? I mean that all sounds like stuff that resulted from boredom and frustration, why murder? Unless he has got himself mixed up with a different group down here. Do we know where the brother is now?”

  “Banged up for nine months. Due out in December – should be home with his mum for Christmas.”

  “Ha, nice.”

  “Yeah. A nice Irish family,” he said. “There are aunties and uncles all over the place, cousins and what have you. Most of them are known to us. He didn’t really stand much chance of keeping straight given his background.”

  “No, but still – murder, and chopping up corpses.” She glanced at the screen, “I’ve got another call coming in, Charlie, can I call you back?”

  “No, listen it’s fine. I’ve sent you the files. I’ll call later in the week, we can catch up – and Tanya…”

  “Yes.”

  “Go with your gut.”

  She clicked to the incoming call; it was a number she didn’t recognise but the voice was immediately familiar. “Tanya, it’s Simon.”

  “Hello, Dr Hewitt, sorry – Simon. I didn’t recognise your number.”

  “No, I’m using my personal phone. Listen I’d like a word with you. Could you meet me… in the morning perhaps?”

  “Okay, will you come to the office.”

  “No, no. I’d rather speak away from the office. Could I see you at home, maybe in the morning? Is that okay?”

  “Yep, I usually leave about seven thirty.”

  “Okay, I’ll be there around seven. Goodnight, Tanya.”

  It was strange and puzzling but the next call just a half an hour later pushed Simon and his request from her mind. A sack torn open by foxes and rats and the scattered pieces of finger bones required all of her attention.

  Chapter 39

  It seemed like days that Ana had sat in silence. She wondered if her voice was gone forever and to find out, now and then she whispered her own name, low and careful. At first, she had been silent because she had been so afraid of what was going to happen to her. Nothing truly dreadful occurred, just the police’s constant encouragement to tell them who she was, where she was from and who they could contact for her. But by now it was impossible to speak – there was no starting point anymore.

  They had talked about court, about charges; she didn’t really understand, so again she made no response. She wondered what had happened to the old woman. Maybe she was dead. If she was dead, then they might leave her here forever in this little room. Her mother would never know what had happened to her.

  She needed to call her brother. It was the only thing she wanted to say, but to do that she would need to tell them where she was from. It would give them a way in, a way to get to the truth, or at least the parts of it that she could speak about.

  Some of it was locked inside forever.

  No matter what happened, she would never tell anyone about the drugs. Carried in her body and then expelled in the most degrading manner. Handed over to Bogdan, who had smirked at her as he held the little packages in his gloved fingertips. No, she would never speak of that. She would never speak about the nights that he had come, with his friends, and they turned t
he women into whores, with threats and violence and ugly sex. She would not speak of that, so she did not speak at all.

  They wanted her to confide in them so they could call her embassy, or a solicitor, or her friends. These were the options they gave her; ways to make it all end.

  Late in the afternoon, a policeman came to her. He had a woman with him – a solicitor. They asked if she would let this woman be her representative. She didn’t answer because she had no way to tell if this was good or bad. They said she had broken the law but more than likely she would just be sent home. This must mean that the woman wasn’t dead and she wasn’t a killer. Tears had sprung to her eyes then and they had thought they were getting through and waited for her to break. She didn’t and they brought her back to the tiny cell, the hard bed, the metal, unscreened toilet in the corner and the dry, tasteless food and beige drinks.

  Thoughts swirled and circled in her brain. Now surely, it was far too late to call home. If the threats and promises were real, then her brother and mother might already be dead. They may be in pain, or even more terrified than she was, because they’d had no warning – pawns in a game that none of them knew they were playing. But, if they were empty words from the ugly mouth of Bogdan, then calling them now would cause panic and distress.

  She could tell these people the truth. Tell them about the caravan, the work, the beatings and deprivation they were all suffering, and surely they would act.

  This England didn’t allow things like that, did it?

  They would go and try to find out. Ah, but then, everyone would know who had told and for sure her mother would die, if not at the hands of Bogdan’s friends, then in revenge by the other families. The others at the factory would be punished, and she couldn’t let that happen. They had made their own decisions, had their own fears, and their own people in peril. No, she could not do that.

  They had all signed contracts, they all owed him money and they had all brought drugs into the country. He said that he had proof, video of them swallowing the little packages at the house where they waited for the tickets, and then video of when they arrived in Dover. She believed that. She remembered the dark room, the man with the camera and Bogdan himself at the port clicking away with his phone. She should have refused, but by then she owed so much money. The bus trip through Europe, the ticket for the boat, and the money he said he’d paid to get her a job. She believed them when they said that everyone carried drugs and it would help to pay back the debt. She had believed him because there was no option.

  Perhaps she was wrong. Could it be that the right thing to do now was to ask for help, tell the truth, the truths that she could speak at least? What was the worst that could happen? They would send her home, but they were going to do that anyway, and by now it was all she wanted. She wanted to go home. She wanted to feel her mother’s arms around her, and she wanted to sit on the steps of their little house with her brother and drink beer until the stars began to spin and the world began to tip, and he laughed at her and helped her to bed.

  Because she didn’t know which of her tumbled thoughts to tell them, she told them nothing. They gave up and said she must wait now for people to come from the immigration department, then they would decide what to do with her. So, she waited for many hours punctuated only by the screams of drunks and the clink and clang of metal and the dull thud of boots.

  The door of the little cell opened and the young policewoman who had found her in the alley stepped inside. She had a white plastic bag in her hand. “Hello. I’m sorry you’re still here. I just spoke to the sergeant. The immigration officers can’t make it until tomorrow now. I thought you might like this. We’re not supposed to do this, but….” She shrugged and smiled. “I didn’t know what you liked. This is from the Polish restaurant, I thought maybe, you know, you would like it better than ham sandwiches and shepherd’s pie.”

  She pulled the plastic boxes from the bag and a smell almost like home filled the small, mean space and Ana began to cry.

  Chapter 40

  Simon wasn’t there. Tanya hadn’t really expected him to be. This wasn’t a body, but a collection of bones, spread and gnawed at by the rats and foxes. If the little terrier, sitting quietly now at the feet of his shocked and shaken owner, hadn’t found the remains instead of the rabbit he was supposed to be rooting out, then the evidence would have been lost, most probably forever.

  A forensic team was on their knees, floodlit in the damp undergrowth. Small yellow evidence tents had been placed where bones lay around the piece of torn sacking. Photographers recorded the activity and there was the quiet hum of subdued voices. It was understated and calm – so unlike the first discovery. Because of the spread of bones, they hadn’t erected a tent over the scene: it was so far away from the road that there wasn’t much chance of the public turning up, and it was too late to protect what evidence there was from the weather.

  They should be able to avoid the press and the ghouls, for the time being at least. That was of course unless the dog owner had used his phone and was itching to get off somewhere so he could enjoy his moment of fame on the internet.

  Tanya interviewed him and asked him to exercise discretion lest he frustrate her enquiries, but that was all she could do.

  Although she had suited up, Tanya didn’t push all the way forward through the damp grass; there was no point. If these were the remains of the man in the hut, then she would be told soon enough. If they weren’t then she didn’t need to get in the way of the experts.

  She turned to Paul Harris. “Right, well, I don’t reckon we are going to achieve much hanging around here. I’m sorry, I guess there was no need to call you out.”

  “It’s okay, ma’am, the wife’s got friends round. It’s all chardonnay and sobbing at my place. I might go into work anyway and go through some reports on the phone calls.”

  Tanya was impressed; at last, it seemed that he was getting himself together. “Great. That’ll be helpful.”

  “Yeah, well, like DI Finch says, you have to put in the miles to get anywhere.”

  “Oh, he says that, does he?”

  “Yes, and he should know. He’s one of the youngest DIs in the county. Well, I mean, I know you were when you first got your promotion but, you know seeing him, seeing how he’s got on.” He shrugged. “It just made me realise I’ve been lagging behind a bit. You know it’s easier for a woman, all this positive bias there is these days. Quotas for females in higher office, all that malarkey. It has to ease the way for you, doesn’t it? We’ve still got to do it the hard way, us blokes.”

  Tanya turned away so that he wouldn’t see how much he’d angered her. She clenched her teeth. She had encouraged him, as much as she could, given his previous laziness and careless attitude. She knew that Charlie had as well. So, it took Brian Finch with his money and his connections, his flash car and big desk, to give Paul the push that he’d needed. As for the rest of it – his misogynistic comments – she was furious. People like Paul would never understand; it was almost not their fault because they had a huge blind spot as far as sexual equality was concerned, but that didn’t help. Right then in the dark woods she really wanted nothing more than to slap him across his face. That would be the end of her career. It would be a win for people like him who, even now, after all the struggle, didn’t take women seriously.

  She took a breath, spoke as calmly as she could. “I’m going to assume this is our victim. We’re only a couple of miles from the golf course, and surely the whole of this area isn’t just a body dump.” She pulled a face at him. “Hmm, even that’s possible, I suppose; who can tell these days? But from what I’ve been told by the woman over there…” She pointed. “I can’t remember her name now. Find out will you, we might need to speak to her later. Anyway, what she said was that there was still flesh on the bones. Some of the phalanges.” She raised her brows at his expression. “That’s fingers to you and me, Paul. Well some of them were still connected with tissue.”

  “Rig
ht, so they aren’t ancient?”

  “Apparently not. There’s no skull though. Just small bones of the hands and wrists, some of the radius. That’s one of the arm bones here.” She pointed at her lower arm on the side nearest to her thumb. The forensic woman says that, from what she’s been able to see here, it has been cut through fairly cleanly. But, of course, she’s hampered by the location and what not right now. She’s going to get back to me as soon as she has anything and reckons that it won’t be long before they can at least confirm if this is the rest of our golf course man. Did you know they were calling him, ‘the headless golfer’?”

  Harris shook his head. “I didn’t. Always got to go with buzz words and titles, don’t they?”

  “Yes, it seems like it. Nothing we can do about that.”

  “I guess not, boss.”

  She noted his use of the address, a courtesy and not much more than habit. It actually made her rather sad given his previous comments. She pushed the thoughts aside. “No. But there we are, it’s a bit of drama for the masses I suppose, sells better than ‘dead ordinary bloke’.”

  She turned away, pulling at the paper suit. “I’ll be in about seven-thirty in the morning. See you then.”

  “Oh, boss. Just before you go,” Harris said. “I eventually traced the uniform car that went to Tricia Baker’s workplace. The people at the scene had no bloody idea who’d been sent for her. Well, she drove herself home, didn’t she? At least that snotty brother did. Anyway, I had to go back to dispatch. Eventually spoke to the female officer myself.”

  “Right – and?”

  In response, the sergeant shook his head. “They didn’t have much information, were simply sent to tell her there had been an emergency, that her husband was involved, and she should go home. She refused the offer of a lift and the brother took over from there. That was it. Job done, they just went back on patrol.”