No Place to Die

by Donoghue, Clare

  ‘I know. He adapted two sites,’ she said, raising her eyebrows when Lockyer looked at her. ‘I told you he was thorough. He prepared two burial sites, both fitted out with the same kit. He must have removed the wires and tube after things went wrong.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I’m assuming Kieran was the first guinea pig,’ she said. ‘Lebowski doesn’t mention him by name, but he does talk about subjects . . . subject A, B and C.’

  ‘Does that mean we need to start looking for two more bodies?’ Lockyer asked.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said. ‘His notes stop halfway through the experiment with “subject A”. I think what happened to Kieran was an accident.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Jane,’ Lockyer said, standing up. ‘Give me a break. Lebowski raped and murdered Amelia Reynolds six years ago. Kieran disappeared less than a year later. And we both believe he killed Maggie Hungerford. Not to mention Mark. Do tell me how killing Kieran was an accident?’

  She waited for him to stop pacing. ‘Listen. Subject A,’ she said, looking down at the papers in front of her, ‘agreed to go down into the underground tomb for five separate sessions of two, four, six, eight and twelve hours at a time. There are notes here on the exact timings, dates – everything. The sessions were filmed with a night-vision camera and the subject was monitored. I’ve asked Franks to check Lebowski’s residence and the university for DVD footage. The subject was allowed food, water, a torch for emergencies or, I suspect, in case they freaked out, and a Dictaphone so they could record their physical and emotional reaction to being underground. Lebowski listed all of the initial experiments as a success, but decided the food, Dictaphone and torch undermined his overall goal. So he set up another session, and this is where I think something went wrong,’ she said, trying to ignore Lockyer huffing and puffing on the other side of the room. ‘The subject agreed to a longer stint underground: forty-eight hours without water, food or the torch. Nothing.’

  ‘Why would anyone agree to that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I’m just telling you what’s here.’

  ‘All right, all right,’ Lockyer said, sitting down. ‘Go on. I’ll stop interrupting.’

  ‘Like that’s even possible,’ she said, sighing. Lockyer pulled an imaginary zip across his lips. She managed a smile, but her heart wasn’t in it. ‘Okay. Lebowski had the camera hooked up, but he had to be on-site to view it. He couldn’t be there during the day or at any time when he might be seen, so he was only able to monitor the subject—’

  ‘Can you call him Kieran, please?’ Lockyer asked. ‘The “subject” sounds bloody awful.’

  She raised her eyebrows. She knew Lockyer wouldn’t be able to keep his mouth shut. ‘Fine. Lebowski monitored Kieran the first night. From his notes, it looks like Kieran struggled with this burial far more than he had with the others. He was showing signs of stress, and at one point Lebowski thought he might have had a fit.’

  ‘And you don’t think leaving him down there after that is murder?’

  She didn’t bother to answer him. She was going to get this all out even if she had to talk over him for the rest of the evening. ‘Lebowski continued to observe, and satisfied himself that Kieran was okay, before leaving.’

  ‘I’m still failing to see where the “accident” part comes in,’ he said, pushing his fingers through his hair. Jane wished he would get a haircut. It was like talking to one of those troll-dolls that were popular in the Eighties.

  ‘On all of the previous sessions Lebowski had a strict routine. He checked the camera and the air-hose, taking pictures. Again, I’ve asked Franks to search for these, as they’re not included in this bundle. Anyway, when Lebowski had to leave the site, he cleared away any mud or leaves that might impede Kieran’s air supply. The last entry, when he left Kieran, he didn’t check the air supply. Looking at the times, Kieran would have been unattended from five in the morning until gone midnight the next night. In that time it’s entirely possible that the ground around Kieran’s air-hose was disturbed. The woods are frequented by walkers, dogs, local wildlife. Any one of these could have covered the air-hole.’

  ‘Or Lebowski did it,’ Lockyer said.

  ‘The remaining air in the tomb would have lasted for five or six hours, maybe a few more, given the size of the tomb – but not until the next night, no way. Lebowski comes back, sees that Kieran is dead and panics. He takes out the air-hose and camera and pretends it didn’t happen.’

  Lockyer’s eyebrows were disappearing into his thatch of hair. ‘What about the other tomb? Why leave his equipment there?’

  ‘I don’t know. As I said . . . he panicked, cleared the evidence away from Kieran’s tomb and then legged it. He couldn’t risk going back, could he?’ Lockyer was shaking his head. ‘Look, it’s an idea,’ she said. ‘There’s no motive to kill Kieran. From the paperwork, it was a simple experiment.’ Lockyer’s eyebrows went even higher. ‘I don’t understand it any more than you do, Mike, but that’s how it reads. It’s dry, boring research. Even I remember some of the terms from school: having a “control” environment, that kind of thing. The point is, everything is catalogued and documented from the beginning, right through, but everything stops the night he left Kieran in there. There’s nothing after that. Whether it was an accident or not doesn’t really matter. I’m just telling you what I think. Amelia Reynolds was raped and murdered. I don’t doubt that. Lebowski put Maggie in the tomb to die. I don’t doubt that, either. The tomb in Elmstead was the perfect place to hide the body, and he was the only one who knew it was there.’ She finished speaking and stared out of the window at the buildings opposite the station. An image of Maggie’s parents appeared in her mind, followed by an image of Gary Reynolds. The death of his daughter had ruined him, but Maggie’s parents were just at the start of that road. Jane had to find Lebowski. She had to get justice for them, to stop them ending up like Gary.

  ‘And what about Mark?’ Lockyer asked. ‘Where the hell has Lebowski stashed him? We’ve checked Elmstead. He’s not there. Is there anything in Lebowski’s notes about other sites – places we can look?’

  Jane’s focus seemed to come back to her all at once. ‘There are,’ she said. ‘Lebowski had two possible sites further out. I’ll speak to Jared and ask him to get the GPR over there and see if he can find anything.’ She thought again. ‘And I need to speak to Sue. She must know Mark bought the allotment plot in Deptford. I have to make her understand that whatever she’s hiding could be crucial to finding Mark and Lebowski.’

  ‘You need to prepare yourself, Jane,’ Lockyer said.

  ‘For what?’ she asked, looking at him. She had already resigned herself to the fact that finding Mark alive was never going to happen.

  ‘Lebowski knows about the second tomb. He’s not stupid. He’ll know it’s only a matter of time before we ID Kieran. He’ll know we’re going to get him; that he’s not going to slip through the net this time.’

  ‘What’s your point?’

  ‘My point,’ Lockyer said, resting his hands on the table, ‘is that if he thinks it’s over, suicide might seem like his only option.’

  ‘Don’t say it,’ she said, trying to ignore the smiling face of her son that was pushing its way into her thoughts.

  ‘Come on, Jane,’ he said. ‘We all knew it was a possibility, the second we found out those kids were missing. If Lebowski decides to end it, he may well take his kids with him.’

  Jane felt a wave of nausea. She knew Lebowski’s children were in danger. She knew she had to find them before Lebowski did anything stupid, but she couldn’t bear to think about what that really meant. If she had let him go and those two children died, because of her, she would never forgive herself. Never.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  5th May – Monday

  The Monday-evening traffic was heavier than Jane had anticipated as people drove home after the bank holiday. She weaved in and out of the bus lane, much to the chagrin of her fell
ow road-users. A red light at Tesco’s brought her progress to a halt. She pulled her handbag onto her lap and rooted around for her phone. She wanted to call her mother, to check on Peter. She swerved around a bus and accelerated away. She hadn’t told Sue she was coming. Despite their friendship, she couldn’t afford to give Sue time to prepare. She needed the truth. At Catford gyratory she turned left onto Brownhill Road, joining a long line of traffic. ‘Shit,’ she said, flicking on her lights. After a few seconds a path opened up and she pushed her way through.

  All she could think about was Lebowski and where he had taken his children. The question made her stomach tighten. She had to keep her focus on the immediate future, on speaking to Sue, finding out what she knew and going from there. If she thought too much about what was happening to Lebowski’s children, she would go mad. How must Lebowski’s ex-wife be feeling now? The turn for Mark and Sue’s road was up ahead on the right. She waited for a line of cars to move off from the traffic lights. There was nothing coming in the other direction, so she flicked on her lights again and darted out into the opposite lane and made the turn.

  She pulled up to the curb outside Sue’s house. There were no lights on. ‘Damn it,’ she said, turning off the engine and getting out of the car. The air temperature had changed. It was muggy. The air around her felt heavy. She turned and leaned into the car doorway to grab her handbag off the passenger seat. There was a noise behind her. As she turned towards it, she saw something black out of the corner of her eye. At the same time the back of her head exploded with pain. Her knees crumpled beneath her, her vision blurred. She blinked again and again. As her world went black, she thought she could hear someone breathing.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  5th May – Monday

  Lockyer looked down at Lewisham High Street. The scene in front of him was incongruous. It was past nine o’clock, the street lights casting their orange glow over the traffic, but people were still wandering around in shorts and T-shirts. He let his blind fall back into place, walked over to his desk, picked up his mobile and dialled the number Jane had given him. As far as she was concerned, Gary had sent the package containing Lebowski’s research. She had asked Lockyer to get confirmation, but as he listened to the phone ringing he wondered whether, in the scheme of things, with Lebowski on the run with his kids, it really mattered.

  ‘Yeah,’ a female voice said.

  ‘Hi, Cindy. It’s DI Lockyer. How’s it going?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘DI Lockyer,’ he said, resting his forehead on his free hand. ‘I was over on Saturday with my colleague, DS Bennett, talking to Gary. Remember?’

  ‘Oh, right, yeah. You’re that tall copper,’ she said, her words slurring into one another. ‘Crazy hair.’

  Lockyer couldn’t help smoothing his hair down. ‘That’s right. Can I have a word with Gary, please?’

  ‘Not here,’ Cindy said. She sounded as if she was about to pass out.

  ‘When will he be back?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, sniffing. ‘We went out Saturday after you were here. Haven’t seen him since.’

  Lockyer sat up straight in his chair. ‘What do you mean? Where’s he gone?’

  ‘How should I know?’ Cindy said, sniffing again. Lockyer realized she was crying. ‘He just walked out of the pub and didn’t come back. Guess he was sick of me. My mum said he’d get bored. I figured if I came back here, he’d come home eventually and we’d make up, you know?’ Lockyer didn’t say anything. Something about this didn’t feel right. ‘I don’t have any money. I can’t go back to my folks. They don’t want me. He was the only one . . . Gary was the only one who ever wanted me.’ She was sobbing down the phone.

  ‘All right, Cindy.’ What could he say? He couldn’t very well say that he thought Gary leaving her was probably the best thing for all concerned. ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I need to find Gary. Do you have any idea where he might have gone?’

  ‘No,’ Cindy shouted. ‘If I did, I wouldn’t be sitting here waiting for him, would I?’

  ‘Listen, I need you to get him to call me as soon as he comes back. Okay?’

  ‘If he comes back,’ she said.

  ‘Call your mum, Cindy,’ Lockyer said, feeling useless and guilty. ‘I would want my daughter to call me if she was in trouble, no matter what had happened.’

  Cindy sniffed again. ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ve gotta go. I need some bog-roll.’ She hung up before Lockyer could say any more.

  ‘Nice chatting with you,’ he said, dropping his mobile onto his desk.

  He looked at his watch. He had texted Jane twice with updates on the search, but hadn’t heard back yet. Air Support had been called in, but so far there was no sign of Lebowski’s car. With a few clicks he opened his address book on his computer. He scrolled through until he came to Sue and Mark’s details. The home number was listed. He dialled and waited.

  ‘Hello,’ Sue said.

  ‘Hi, Sue. It’s Mike,’ he said, leaning back in his chair. ‘Sorry to bother you, but could I have a quick word with Jane, please?’

  A brief silence greeted his question.

  ‘She’s not here, Mike,’ Sue said. He could hear papers shuffling at the end of the line. ‘I had a text from her a little while ago saying she was coming over. She must be stuck in traffic.’

  ‘What time did she text you?’ he asked. Jane had told him she wasn’t going to tell Sue she was coming; that she didn’t want to give Sue time to prepare. So why would she text Sue?

  ‘Hang on,’ Sue said. He heard the papers being moved. ‘It was only fifteen minutes ago. She said she was on her way.’ Lockyer looked at his watch. Jane had left the office well over an hour ago. ‘She didn’t say why she wanted to speak to me. Is it Mark?’

  ‘No, Sue. I’m sorry. Jane just needed to ask you some questions about a guy we’ve been talking to on the Hungerford case. There’s a possible connection.’

  ‘Is Lebowski a suspect?’

  Lockyer paused, unsure whether to continue. ‘You know him?’ he asked.

  ‘I know of him, yes,’ Sue said. ‘Jane asked me about him last week.’ There was a silence at Sue’s end. Lockyer held his breath. ‘I didn’t tell her . . . I didn’t think it was relevant. Mark was . . . ’ She stopped speaking.

  ‘We know about the phone calls, Sue,’ he said, looking around his desk for his notepad.

  ‘Oh God,’ she said, her voice muffled. He pictured her covering her mouth with her hand, hoping to stop the words. ‘Who else knows?’

  ‘Only a select few,’ he said, not wanting to lie to her, but not wanting to subject her to any more anguish, either. Jane had managed to keep the bulk of the information from the team, but that couldn’t last. Roger knew and so would the higher-ups. It was only a matter of time before it drifted into general circulation.

  ‘Mike, I swear I didn’t know anything about it until I checked the phone bill. When I confronted him, he broke down . . . He cried, Mike. I’ve never seen him cry, except when the boys were born. He was distraught. He felt like it was his fault.’

  ‘Like what was his fault?’

  ‘Amelia’s murder. He tried everything, but nothing would stick. He told everyone – his SIO, the chief, everyone – but no one else believed Lebowski was guilty.’

  ‘Why was Mark so sure that Lebowski killed Amelia?’

  ‘I wish I could tell you,’ Sue said. ‘He wouldn’t talk to me about it, not really. He interviewed Lebowski again and again and just said he knew, from the way the guy acted, that he’d done it – like he was showboating, hoping they would catch him.’

  ‘What else did Mark say about the phone calls?’ Lockyer asked.

  ‘He said he owed it to Gary . . . Amelia’s father. Gary and Liz were our friends. Their marriage went down the pan not long after Mark retired. Gary couldn’t handle not knowing.’

  ‘Did Mark tell Gary about Lebowski?’ He knew he was taking a risk asking Sue the question. If anything was going to make her cl
am up, it was incriminating her missing husband, but her silence answered the question for her. ‘When?’ he asked.

  ‘He didn’t feel like he had a choice. Gary started drinking. He wasn’t the same man we had known. He called all the time, made threats, came round. He even started a fight with Mark in the pub. It was awful to see him lose it like that. Gary said Mark had promised him he would get whoever killed Amelia. He said Mark’s retirement was an excuse to cover up his own incompetence; that he was as guilty as the man who had killed Amelia. Mark was crushed.’ Lockyer could hear Sue trying to control her voice, trying to stop herself from breaking down.

  ‘Why didn’t you call me? Or Jane?’

  ‘How could I, Mike?’ she said, sniffing. ‘You would have had to intervene. There’s no way you could have just swept that kind of information under the carpet. He’s my husband, Mike. I’d do anything for him, to protect our family. Mark thought if he told Gary that he knew who was responsible and that he hadn’t forgotten Amelia, it would give Gary some kind of closure.’

  ‘But it didn’t,’ Lockyer said, unable to believe that Mark could have been so short-sighted.

  ‘No. If anything, it made Gary worse. He came to the house. He was drunk. He threatened Mark, said he would hurt me and the boys if Mark didn’t tell him who had killed his daughter.’

  Lockyer felt as if someone had just walked over his grave. The Gary Reynolds that Sue was describing was not the man he and Jane had met on Saturday. He tried to piece together what it could mean. Lebowski was on the run with his two children. There was a warrant for his arrest in connection with the murders of Amelia Reynolds, Kieran Affiku, Maggie Hungerford and Mark Leech. Now Gary Reynolds had gone AWOL. Lockyer needed to speak to Jane. Now.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  5th May – Monday

  Jane touched the back of her head with the tips of her fingers. They came away wet. There was a throbbing pain behind her right eye. A memory floated around her consciousness: a noise, then nothing. She took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of water and soil mixed together by the rain. She opened her eyes. The blackness that greeted her pupils jolted her out of her stupor. She sat up, her head connecting with a solid surface. The impact turned her stomach. She vomited between her legs. ‘No,’ she groaned. ‘Please, no.’ She coughed and retched again as the pain in her head increased. Her throat burned as she hung her head between her knees. She pictured Peter in her mind, sitting in the garden, his face upturned to the sun, a small smile on his face. Her heart rate slowed. She held onto his image and started to shake her head. Neither Lebowski nor her own panic would prevent her getting home to her son. She would fight until her last breath.