No Place to Die

by Donoghue, Clare

  She resisted the desire to move, to scrabble to freedom. Instead she waited, counting each breath, each beat of her heart, until she was calm. She remembered climbing down into Maggie’s tomb: the moment the lights had been turned off, to allow her to imagine how it must have been to wake up in such a place. She realized now that her imaginings hadn’t even come close. The blackness, the smell, the cold, the feel of the frigid earth beneath her fingers and the silence – each element pushed her mind towards madness, towards losing control. She felt it like warm hands on her cold skin. It was as if the tomb wanted to possess her, to absorb her into the earth. ‘No,’ she said, shaking her head again, dislodging the thoughts before they could take hold. ‘Peter.’ Just hearing his name calmed her mind. ‘Peter,’ she said again, turning until she was on all fours. She pictured Maggie’s tomb in her mind and then Kieran’s. The hatch had been in the top right-hand corner of both. She almost laughed. There was no way to tell where in the tomb she was: which end, which side, anything. Like Maggie and Kieran before her, she would have to feel her way.

  With slow, deliberate movements she reached down and patted her pockets and the earth around her. She felt something in her left pocket. Her keys? It seemed to take an eternity to navigate the material of her trousers and find the opening. She pulled them out, her hand closing around the gift her mother had given her. ‘Thank you, Mum,’ she whispered. She twisted the end of the miniature torch and a thin beam of blue light appeared under her fingers. As relief washed over her, she thought again about Maggie and Kieran. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. She held the torch to her chest, closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. If she got out, if she escaped, maybe somehow a part of them would too. She allowed herself to cry for a moment, but then swallowed her emotions and looked around her. The beam of light was small, but she moved it over the ceiling ahead of her. Nothing. She turned, her head throbbing, and looked behind her. The light changed as it moved over something. Was it the hatch? She tried to focus. Her heart seemed to stop in her chest as the light flickered for a moment, fading to nothing before springing back to life. ‘No way,’ she said, pushing her body to move. She was getting out of here right now.

  As she moved towards the hatch, her light settled on something beneath it. It was a body. A man. Her head was screaming. Mark. She retched again and again, but there was no more liquid in her stomach. She leaned over his body and shone her light onto his face. There was a lot of blood. She listened. He was breathing. She leaned further over, resting her hand on his chest. There was a deep wound over his left eye. Her head pounded. It wasn’t Mark. She was looking at the bloodied face of Lebowski. ‘Victor,’ she said, shaking him, his head lolling backwards, limp. She looked up at the hatch. He was directly beneath it. With a strength she didn’t know she possessed, she managed to push him out of the way. Her keys and the torch were wedged between her teeth, the metal tasting sour against her tongue.

  She turned and lay down. With both hands flat, she pushed upwards, the floor hard and cold against her back. It didn’t budge. She pictured the earth on the other side of it, weighing it down. If she managed to break it open, would she be able to dig her way out? ‘You bet your life I will,’ she mumbled to herself. She glanced at Victor and listened. He was still breathing. Where were his daughters? She lay back again and brought her legs up, until her feet were resting against the hatch. There wasn’t much room, but she pumped her legs and kicked as hard as she could with her heels. The contact made her head spin. She rested her head on one side as she retched, but she didn’t stop. She pumped her legs and kicked again. And again. Spatters of earth fell onto her face.

  Without warning she was plunged into darkness. She reached for the torch and twisted it back and forth, but nothing happened. ‘Oh God, no.’ She could stand anything – anything but the darkness. Her breath caught in her throat; her lungs seemed to freeze. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t get any air. Her pulse hammered inside her skull. ‘No,’ she whispered. She couldn’t give up now.

  She lifted her legs again and kicked with every ounce of her strength. She would not stop. With each kick she willed the hatch to break, but fear was holding her back, weakening the impact. She was terrified a landslide of mud would rush in and suffocate her. ‘Come on,’ she said, angry with herself now. She pushed the thought away and kicked again. A loud crack echoed around the tomb. She screamed and pummelled the door with one foot, then the other, over and over again until she was kicking at nothing. Exhausted, she let her head fall back into the deep bed of soil surrounding her. She blinked her eyes, shaking the dirt away, holding her hands over her face. Her breath hitched in her throat. She could see her hands, her fingers. There was light. It was faint and delicate, but it was there. ‘Thank God,’ she said, letting the moonlight wash over her face.

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  5th May – Monday

  Lockyer took off his jacket and threw it over the back of his chair. He had been trying to get hold of Jane for over an hour. It was past ten o’clock. There was no sign of Victor Lebowski or Gary Reynolds, and now Jane was missing. He looked up as Chris was passing by his office door. ‘Chris,’ he called after him.

  ‘Yes, boss,’ Chris said, poking his head around the edge of the glass door to Lockyer’s office.

  ‘When was the last time you spoke to, or heard from, DS Bennett?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to her since she left the office, boss,’ he said, looking over his shoulder at the clock mounted on a column in the middle of the open-plan office. ‘About half-six or seven-ish, I’d say.’

  Lockyer stood and pushed past the young DC. ‘Has anyone heard from DS Bennett since she left the office?’ Several heads turned in his direction. ‘Anyone?’ A room full of shaking heads gave him his answer. ‘Who spoke to her last?’ There was another silence, as Jane’s team looked at each other, shook their heads and then looked back at Lockyer.

  ‘I saw her in the car park when I was coming on duty, boss,’ Whitemore said, standing up at his desk. ‘Seven o’clock.’

  ‘What did she say?’ Lockyer asked, trying to control the volume of his voice, which was increasing with each question.

  ‘That she was driving over to Bromley to see Sue Leech,’ Whitemore said.

  ‘Was that it?’

  ‘She said she’d be on her mobile, and to call if there was any movement on Lebowski,’ he said, looking down at his feet like a scolded child. ‘I think that was it, boss.’

  ‘Has anyone received a text or any communication from her since then?’ Another barrage of shaking heads greeted him. ‘Chris,’ Lockyer said, turning. ‘Call Traffic and tell them to keep an eye out for Jane’s car. If she hasn’t called in by,’ he looked at his watch, ‘ten-thirty, I want Air Support.’

  ‘Half the team is out on the Lebowski warrant,’ Chris said, not seeming to grasp the gravity of Lockyer’s request.

  ‘DS Bennett has been out of contact for over three hours. No one has seen or spoken to her. She is the lead investigator on the Hungerford case. Lebowski is under warrant, in relation to that case. He is missing with his two young children. Jane is missing. Do you understand what I’m telling you?’ His words elicited the reaction he needed. Everyone was looking at him. Everyone was focused. ‘Unless she walks back into this office in the next half-hour, finding DS Bennett will be your top priority. Is that clear?’ A chorus of ‘Yes, boss’ and ‘Yes, sir,’ rang out around the office. He jogged back into his office, grabbed his car keys and ran back across the room to the lifts. ‘I’m on my mobile. I’m going to drive over to Sue Leech’s and see if Jane’s been delayed en route. Franks,’ he shouted.

  ‘Yes, boss,’ Franks said. He was standing by the water cooler, looking somewhat shell-shocked.

  ‘You’re in charge until I get back. Clear?’

  ‘Yes,’ Franks said, nodding.

  ‘And call the SIO,’ Lockyer shouted from the hallway, stabbing the ‘Call’ button for the lift. ‘Ask him to come in, and c
all me when he gets here.’ The lift pinged to indicate its arrival. Lockyer was inside and pressing the button for the ground floor before the doors were fully open.

  Lockyer raced through the traffic, ignoring the blasting horns and shouts of protest as he accelerated through red lights and swerved onto the wrong side of the road. He was concentrating on the road ahead, as well as flicking his eyes from side to side in search of Jane’s car. His back was slick with sweat. He should have taken a squad car. Roger had signed off for his Audi to be fitted with lights and a siren, but Lockyer had not had time to get the work done. He slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. ‘Come on,’ he shouted, leaning on his horn, waving his arms in frustration as dazed faces looked back at him in their rear-view mirrors. ‘Get out of the bloody way,’ he mouthed to a woman in an Espace loaded with kids.

  He reversed, almost hitting the car behind him, and nosed out into the oncoming traffic. A truck pulled out in front of him, missing his front bumper by inches. He braked, swerved to the left and darted around it before the driver knew what was happening. His mobile began ringing on the dashboard. He grabbed the phone, swerving his car onto the curb. ‘Lockyer,’ he said, ramming the phone against his ear.

  ‘Mike,’ Jane said. Her voice sounded far away. Lockyer’s muscles started to bunch up in his shoulders.

  ‘Jane, where the hell are you? Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m okay,’ she said, but she didn’t sound like she was okay at all.

  ‘Talk to me. What’s happened?’ He felt as if he wanted to get out of the car, to start running.

  ‘I’m in Elmstead,’ she said. She was coughing. Her lungs sounded dry, her voice hoarse.

  Lockyer sat back. ‘Jane,’ he said, taking a deep breath. ‘Are you hurt?’ The numerous coffees he had drunk in the afternoon were working their way up his throat.

  ‘I’m fine . . . I went to Sue’s. She wasn’t there . . . someone hit me. When I woke up I was in one of the tombs – Kieran’s, I think.’ Lockyer tried to process what she was saying.

  ‘Lebowski?’ he asked.

  ‘No. No, Mike, Lebowski’s dead. He was in the tomb with me when I woke up. Someone had caved in the front of his head.’ Jane was coughing again. He waited. ‘I managed to get out . . . ’ She was breathing hard. ‘ But when I went back in for Victor, he was dead. I can’t find the children. They’re not here. I don’t know . . . ’ Her voice drifted away as if she had dropped the phone. He could hear other voices in the background.

  ‘Jane?’ Lockyer said, gripping his mobile. ‘Are you there? Jane?’

  He heard her retching. ‘I’m okay,’ she said. ‘Concussed, I think, but I’m okay.’

  ‘Listen, I spoke to Cindy. Gary Reynolds hasn’t been home since we were there on Saturday,’ Lockyer said. ‘I spoke to Sue. She knew about the phone calls, and Lebowski. She said Gary threatened to hurt her and the children if Mark wouldn’t tell him who killed Amelia.’ There was silence from the other end of the line. ‘Jane?’

  ‘It’s Gary,’ she said, her voice quiet. ‘Now I get it,’ she said, clearing her throat. ‘He’s been planning to take the children all along.’ She retched again. ‘He’s going to kill them, to punish Lebowski. He’s going to kill them because Lebowski killed his daughter.’ As he listened to her words, everything fell into place.

  ‘I’m coming to get you,’ he said, ramming the Audi into gear.

  ‘No, no,’ she said, ‘Sasha and Aaron are already here. I managed to get this phone off a couple out walking their dog. I called the office, after I’d called an ambulance for Victor. Mike, you need to get over to Deptford. The allotment where Amelia was killed. That’s where he’ll have taken them. Gary is going to kill them in the same place that his daughter died. I’ve already requested backup. But, Mike, we can’t approach until we know what’s happening. We can’t risk him seeing us and hurting those kids.’

  Lockyer realized he was nodding, but not speaking. ‘Okay. All right. It’ll take me ten minutes to get over there.’ He could hear an engine revving at the other end of the phone.

  ‘We’ll be there in fifteen, twenty minutes. Meet us at the south end of Brockill Crescent. I’ll get the rest of the team to take up position at the north end, on St Norbert Green. The railway line will pen him in on the east side.

  ‘See you there,’ Lockyer said, dropping his phone onto the passenger seat and mounting the pavement, as he swung the Audi round and accelerated away.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  5th May – Monday

  Jane ran her hands through her hair. She was standing at the southern end of Brockill Crescent, stamping her feet. She couldn’t stay still. They had been waiting for Lockyer for almost ten minutes. She looked up and down the street, lined with 1960s terraces. Other than a group of teenagers on skateboards, it was quiet. Pockets of light from the occasional street lamp bathed the empty pavements. She looked at her watch. ‘What the hell is taking him so long?’ she asked, turning to Sasha and Aaron, who were still sitting in the squad car.

  ‘He said the ambulance should be there any second,’ Sasha said, leaning out of the car window. ‘Traffic haven’t turned up yet . . . the guy in the car is going in and out of consciousness . . .’

  ‘Lockyer needs to be here.’ Jane had to stop herself from shouting.

  ‘He said he’ll be another five minutes, ten max,’ Sasha said.

  ‘We can’t wait,’ Jane said, shaking her head. ‘Those kids can’t wait.’

  She closed her eyes. The pain was beyond anything she had ever experienced. She was pretty sure adrenaline was the only thing keeping her conscious. The twenty-minute drive from Elmstead had been tense, and neither Sasha nor Aaron had said much. Jane had been unable to speak. All she could think about was Poppy and Petra. They were seven and ten. Innocent pawns in Lebowski’s and Gary’s twisted histories. She looked at her watch again. Every minute she waited put those kids in danger. She had met Gary. He was an alcoholic, a wreck of a man. The death of his daughter had robbed him of his life, but would he really hurt two little girls? ‘I’m going over there,’ she said, striding off towards the cut-through to the allotments.

  ‘Boss,’ Sasha said, getting out of the car and jogging after her, ‘you can’t go over alone. We don’t know if the guy’s armed, or what he’s planning to do.’

  ‘I know that,’ she said, pausing at the entrance to the alleyway. ‘But the longer we wait here, the longer he has to make up his mind. I’ve met him. He didn’t strike me as a violent man, just a broken one. I don’t think he would want to hurt those kids. Not really. He’s doing it because he thinks he has to. I let Lebowski go. That’s twice he’s had to watch the guy walk free. If I can talk to him – convince him that hurting the children won’t help – maybe he’ll give himself up.’

  ‘And what if he’s armed?’ Aaron asked, joining her and Sasha on the pavement.

  ‘With what?’ Jane asked. ‘The guy’s broke. He doesn’t have a gun, that’s for sure. I don’t know what he hit me with, but as long as I don’t turn my back on him . . . and give myself room to run, I’ll be fine. I’ll take Sasha’s belt with me, so I’ve at least got pepper spray and a baton. I’ve got my radio. If he makes a move, or even looks like he might be a threat to me or those children, I’ll call you. Besides, we don’t even know for sure that he’s here. It’s a hunch. My hunch. If he is, I’ll try and talk him round. If he isn’t, then . . . ’

  ‘We’ll come with you, boss,’ Sasha said, unclipping her belt and handing it to Jane.

  Jane took the belt and slung it around her waist. It was heavier than she remembered. ‘Okay, bring your radios, but put them on silent. I don’t want to risk spooking him. That’s if he’s even here.’ She was beginning to doubt herself. ‘Hang back, out of sight, and wait for my call. Understood?’ They both nodded. She waited for Aaron to run back to the car, pick up the radios and lock the squad car, and then the three of them walked down the alleyway in silence.

  When they reache
d the end of the allotments Jane stopped. She indicated where she wanted Sasha and Aaron to wait, before opening the small gate and stepping onto a gravelled path. There was no way she could approach on that without being heard. She side-stepped onto a runner of grass and moved forward with almost no noise. From the map they had at the station, the plot where Amelia’s body was found was about three-quarters of the way down. She couldn’t see any light ahead of her. Maybe he wasn’t here. She checked her radio and continued on the grass, looking around her every two to three steps. Her head was throbbing. She stopped and listened. A train was coming. She waited for it to pass, holding her breath as the almost deafening noise reverberated around the allotments. She was surrounded by turned earth. It looked black in the moonlight. A shiver ran down her back as the tomb appeared in her mind.

  Another sound made her stop. She ducked behind a lean-to shed. She could hear laughter. It was then that she saw the light, very faint, about fifty yards in front of her. She peered around the edge of the wooden structure. It was coming from a full-size shed standing in the middle of a large plot. There was no way to tell if the laughter had come from inside. She turned and looked back. She couldn’t see Aaron or Sasha. She must be about 150 yards into the allotment. She checked her radio again. If she raised the alarm it wouldn’t take them more than a minute to get to her.