by Joy Ellis
‘And Micah Lee,’ Charlie Button whispered, ‘is definitely hiding something.’
‘Whatever, even if all this turns out to be a crock of shit,’ Max added, ‘There are underground rooms and tunnels beneath this dump, so our girl could be being hid in one of them. End of. Let’s search the place.’
Marie patted Max on the back. ‘Can’t argue with that, can we, sir?’
It made sense. A university expert had pointed to underground structures that could easily be used as places of concealment for an abducted girl. And Jackman was convinced that Emily was somewhere very close by. It was time to bite the bullet.
If I’ve got this wrong, the super will crucify me — publicly.
Jackman watched the preparations for the search and considered his position. He came to the conclusion that he was skating on thin ice.
Three o’clock came and went, and the search parties determined that four of the six tunnels were either collapsed or inaccessible. But Jackman still believed that they would find her down there.
* * *
The call came just before the purple evening shadows began to spread across the marsh.
‘We’ve found an entrance, sir!’ The policewoman was red-faced and sweating. ‘It’s the marsh tunnel, and it runs for about a quarter of a mile out into Hobs End.’
Jackman saw a flush of excitement darken Marie’s pale face.
‘Where is it?’ he asked.
‘There’s an old building there, sir, little more than lumps of concrete and partially collapsed walls. I suppose it was an old cottage that was abandoned because of the danger of flooding. It’s a little way above sea level, and there’s a hatch that leads into some kind of cellar, and then a door into the tunnel itself.’ She wiped her forearm across her brow. ‘We’ve been down as far as the door. It’s locked, so we’d like permission to break it down. We can’t just bust in without authority, can we, sir?’
‘In order to protect a life you can, and I believe that someone is in mortal danger. As soon as the rest of the team arrive, we’ll follow you, Constable. And we’ll go in.’
The marsh path was narrow and uneven. They ran, slipping and tripping, until they reached the derelict building.
As he paused to get his breath back, Jackman saw Marie looking thoughtfully at the moss-covered piles of masonry and ancient brickwork. He thought she was also sure they were in the right place. One by one they eased through the old hatch and found themselves in a tiny cellar. The stench of damp, mildew and rotting plant-life made them gag.
Unlike the cellar, the door to the tunnel was new.
Jackman stared at it. The wood looked strong, and the heavy-duty lock had fresh oil glistening around it.
A police constable stood waiting, a weighty metal enforcer under his muscled arm. ‘Sir?’ He looked at Jackman and swung the piece of equipment upwards in readiness.
This was it. Jackman’s heart raced. He looked around at his team and knew that they all felt the same.
Even Ted Watchman, gently cradling the precious thermal camera like a new-born baby, looked as though he had been wired to a socket and was waiting for the switch to be thrown.
It took half a dozen blows to shatter the lock. Then they moved forward.
Jackman began to run.
The light from their torches bounced off the walls and made intricate patterns on the roof of the tunnels. Jackman wondered where they were heading.
Ted puffed along beside him. ‘We must be getting close to Windrush house now, Inspector. According to the survey, the tunnel should be finishing soon.’
‘There’s a door up ahead, boss!’ called back Rosie, who had sprinted ahead. ‘We’re going to need that enforcer again.’
Jackman raised a hand. ‘Wait, all of you, and keep the voices down for a moment.’
They had no idea what they would find in there. For all they knew, their abductor could be waiting with a knife to Emily’s throat, or she could be sitting on a homemade bomb. Or it could be an empty room.
‘Okay, Ted, this is your moment,’ Jackman said grimly. ‘I need to know if there’s anything alive behind that door.’
He heard the young archaeologist exhale nervously, and move closer to the heavy wooden door. He carefully unfolded the camera’s display screen and pressed a series of buttons. The screen came alive, and he moved it from left to right.
The whole search team was holding their breaths.
Ted remained silent, angling the camera this way and that, and then he gave a little sigh. Jackman’s heart sank.
Then Ted whispered, ‘Yes. There’s a heat source. It’s faint, very faint, but it’s there.’
‘Just one?’
‘Just one, I’m certain of it.’ Ted stepped back. ‘Inspector, it seems to be a very big area in there. In fact, it’s massive.’
‘Constable! Break it down.’
They all stood back to give the big policeman room to swing the enforcer. Jackman felt sick with apprehension. It might be Emily. Or it might be a stray cat.
If Emily was there, what state would she be in? And if it was a cat? Jackman thought about the massive search party and everything it entailed, and imagined the ice cracking beneath his feet.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
As the enforcer crashed into the door, Marie began to ready herself. She had no idea what lay on the other side, and she suspected that it might haunt her for some time to come.
She looked around at her colleagues and saw that they were all becoming increasingly uncomfortable. Right now they didn’t need time to think, they needed action. It was taking too long to break down that door.
At last the door began to give way. A few seconds more and they would be in. Marie moved from foot to foot impatiently, and then looked up. Above the door hung a carefully painted sign. It read: CHILDREN’S WARD.
‘We’re through!’ The call echoed down the tunnel, and Marie’s heart lurched. She moved to Jackman’s side and steeled herself.
* * *
In the flickering shadows of their torches, nothing seemed real, and Jackman felt as if he had been thrust into some freakish nightmare.
He had been prepared to find either a girl’s body or a terrified teenager, possibly injured, but certainly tied up and gagged.
But it was nothing like that.
The Children’s Ward was big, some seventy feet long. Along the entire length of the far wall stretched a row of metal-framed hospital beds, all with pillows.
Covers.
Occupants.
Jackman clapped a hand over his mouth. His wide eyes travelled slowly down the row. How many were there, for God’s sake? The silver beam of his Maglite caught the pillows and revealed decaying flesh and skulls.
There were shocked murmurs and someone retched.
‘Stay where you are! Keep back, all of you. I want no one contaminating this scene,’ he said steadily.
‘There’s a light bulb!’ A torch beam pointed upwards and someone called out, ‘My God, there’s electricity down here!’
‘There’s a switch here.’ Jackman recognised Gary’s voice. ‘DI Jackman? Shall I?’
Jackman noted Gary Pritchard’s thoughtfulness. He had known what the shock of illuminating the scene without warning might have done to his colleagues.
Jackman’s voice betrayed no hint of emotion. ‘Do it, Gary. We’re ready. Just think about Emily. We have to find her as quickly as we can.’
Gary flicked the switch. Thankfully the light was dim. A string of low wattage lamps swung from the ceiling, although they did little to soften the horror that surrounded them.
‘Get that bloody camera working, Mr Watchman!’ Jackman called out. ‘We need to locate her without contaminating the whole place. If you can bear to, just find out which one is still alive, and if you haven’t the stomach, give the camera to me.’
As Ted lifted the camera, Jackman called Marie to his side, and together they appraised the scene.
All the beds except one held a body
. Beside each bed was a small cabinet, with a small glass vase of freshly picked flowers. The “patients” lay silently, some younger, some older. Their hands were folded over the top of the sheets, and their heads rested on faded dusty pillows. Marie counted out loud. There were thirteen of them.
Some were like sleeping dolls, some nothing but bare bones and fleshless skulls. Some had the translucent parchment skin of a mummy, while others were still putrefying, which accounted for the sickening stench.
Suddenly Ted called out. ‘I’ve picked her up! She’s in the third bed from the end!’
‘Get the medics! Marie! With me.’
Jackman ran down the row until he saw rich dark hair cascading over a fresh pillowslip.
‘Oh, Emily,’ he breathed. ‘We’ve got you. We’ve got you now.’ He took the girl’s hand in his and looked up at Marie. ‘It’s cold, but not deathly cold.’
He called out to Ted. ‘Could you face checking the other beds with the camera? Most of them are all long gone, but maybe . . .’
‘Is she . . . ?’ Ted called back. ‘I mean, I saw heat still in her. She can’t be . . . ?’
‘I have no idea, Ted.’ Jackman touched Emily’s neck, desperately feeling for a pulse, but he felt nothing. ‘She might be alive, but I think she’s been heavily drugged. She needs medical attention, and fast.’
The heavy camera shook in his hands as Ted swept the room. ‘She’s the only one, I’m afraid.’
‘Okay. I didn’t expect anything else, but we needed to check. Thank you, Ted.’
‘Not quite the kind of discovery I’m used to unearthing,’ said the young man shakily. ‘Thank God.’
Jackman stood up. ‘Marie, check whether there is another way in or out. The rest of you, get back down the tunnel. Tell the sergeant that this whole area, house and grounds, are to be sealed off. No one in and, apart from the medics and an escort, no one out.’
He looked at his team, all of them poised, ready for instruction.
‘Rosie, we need the pathologist. Speak to Rory Wilkinson, and tell him to muster as many scene-of-crime officers as he can. He’ll have to ask other districts for help. In order to avoid cross-contamination there has to be one SOCO for each victim, so he’s going to need a truck-load. Somehow we have to get Emily to safety and still try to preserve the integrity of this scene for forensics.’
He glanced down at the recumbent figure on the bed.
‘Gary, I want Benedict Broome and Micah Lee picked up immediately. Arrest them on suspicion of murder and abduction. We can’t have them talking to each other, so I suggest you take Broome to Saltern where I can interview him, and send Lee to Harlan Marsh. They still have a custody suite, don’t they, Gary?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then do that.’ He turned to the waiting uniforms. ‘The sergeant and I will stay with Emily. Everyone else should get out. And not a word to anyone, especially the suspects, understand? I need to debrief you all before this gets out. We do not know what we are dealing with here.’
‘Other than a murdering, son-of-a-bitch monster,’ muttered a shaky voice.
‘Exactly. So talk to no one. Understand? Not a soul.’
As the echoes of their footsteps died away, Jackman and Marie went to Emily’s bedside and stared down at her pale face. Marie gently touched her cheek with the back of her finger.
‘You were right, Toni was telling the truth. Emily does exist.’
Jackman still held Emily’s hand in his. ‘Let’s pray that the paramedics shift their arses, because I’m really not sure that she’ll make it. Poor kid, what she’s suffered. I can’t even begin to imagine it.’
Marie continued to gaze down at her. ‘Thankfully, it hasn’t been long since she was abducted. She’s pretty bruised, but she seems to be relatively unharmed . . . well, on the surface at least.’ Marie turned to look at all the other beds.
‘My God, sir, what on earth has gone on here?’
He looked down the row of beds. ‘God knows, Marie. The things the human mind can dream up are beyond belief.’
‘Human? Are you sure about that?’
Jackman waved his hand. ‘Look around you, Marie. Their beds are neat and tidy. Their hair, what’s left of it, is brushed. There are flowers beside their beds, and the lockers look clean enough to feature in a sodding Flash advert. He’s taken more care of these poor souls than some people do their sick relatives.’
‘Just a shame he had to kill them first,’ growled Marie.
‘It’s too twisted to get your head around.’
‘You’re not kidding.’ After a while Marie added, ‘Do you think there is any chance that we will find Kenya Black here?’
It had been one of the first things Jackman had thought of when he saw the bodies. ‘I don’t think so. There are no really small children that I can see.’
‘But what if she had been kept incarcerated for years, then . . . disposed of?’ Marie shivered and glanced towards the doorway. ‘Where’s that sodding ambulance crew?’
‘I know it’s a crime scene and we have to process it, but they don’t pay us enough to have to cope with a nightmare like this one,’ Jackman said.
‘I’m not sure that finding the Lost Kingdom of the Dead is dealt with in the guidelines for police procedure and crime scene management, do you?’
‘Maybe I’ll write an addendum when I have a moment.’ He let out a sigh of relief, ‘I hear footsteps.’
Two green-clad paramedics, led by a uniformed constable, entered the room.
‘Oh sweet Jesus!’ The first man bundled his equipment bag under one arm and crossed himself.
‘Over here!’ Jackman called out. ‘She’s in a bad way.’
The two paramedics hurried towards them, the second man pulling a trolley behind him and looking from side to side with a horrified expression.
‘Look, just forget what’s surrounding you, and do your best for this girl, okay?’ Marie stared down at her. ‘Her name is Emily and we have reason to believe that she’s been heavily sedated.’
With an effort, the medic gathered himself. ‘If you’d just stand back, we’ve got her now. Do we know what she’s been given?’
Jackman shook his head. ‘Another girl who was with her recently was given some sort of benzodiazepine. A new kind of roofie, possible street name “Ooblie,” if that helps?’
‘Oh, that lethal bloody stuff. It’s possible, and her symptoms seem to match, but I’m pretty sure that’s not all she’s had. Well, we’ll do what we can here and then get her in an ambulance.’
It took ten minutes to get a line in, some fluids going and a heart monitor in place, and then Emily was carefully secured to the stretcher, and wheeled away from hell.
As he left, the paramedic gave them the thumbs-up.
The silence fell like a thick cloak around them and Jackman decided they should wait outside for the pathologist.
There was no one left for them to help.
Jackman took one last look around at the line of dead youngsters sleeping peacefully in their neat beds, when suddenly it hit him. ‘Why the hell didn’t I notice that before?’
Marie halted in the doorway. ‘Notice what?’
‘There are names over the beds. Look! Little plaques, with a single name on them.’ He began to walk down the long line of hospital beds. ‘Corrie, Tessa, Annie, Lucy . . . Shit! The killer has left us their names! I’ve been so involved with getting Emily to safety that I’ve forgotten my basic scene-of-crime protocol. We must check each bed. And we need to look for Kenya.’
Jackman stopped at one of the much older beds and peered at the label. ‘Damn it, most of them have faded with age. We’ll need the lab after all.’ He let out a long sigh.
‘Come on. Let’s get out of here.’
* * *
As they emerged from the tunnel into the warm evening, Marie felt tears slowly trickle down her cheeks. During her time in the force she had seen many terrible things — the massacred farm workers at Red House
Farm, the bodies in Dovegate Lane, Simeon Mulberry and his wife, Charlotte. But today? What she had seen today was beyond all imagining.
She had to ring her mother. She needed to tell her mum that she loved her.
She dialled, glad, for once, that her mum lived far away in Wales. If her mother knew what her daughter had to confront every day of her working life, she would probably never sleep again.
‘Mum?’ Marie pressed the phone closer to her ear and smiled. ‘Hi, you, and yes, we are up to our necks as usual.’
‘You’ve had a very bad day?’
‘The worst, Mum.’
‘Can I help?’
‘You already have. Tell me about something normal that happened today, something ordinary.’
‘The dog was sick on my best mat.’
Marie laughed. ‘That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.’
‘There’s better to come. Maeve Henshaw’s shed blew down in the wind last night and the entire Boy Scout troop turned out to save all her mushrooms.’
Her mother’s lilting voice was the perfect antidote. By the time she ended the call she was herself again, DS Marie Evans, a damned good detective. One who was about to put away an evil killer of young women and children.
She pushed her phone back into her bag and inhaled deeply. Whatever was coming next, Marie was ready.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Even Rory Wilkinson was silent when he saw what awaited him in the underground room. He turned to Jackman and simply said, ‘If I were you, I would accept any offers they make regarding counselling.’
‘I’m okay, Rory. I hear what you’re saying though, and maybe I’ll have a chat with someone when I’ve caught the man who did this.’
‘You think it’s a man?’ asked Rory.
Jackman didn’t answer. A woman? Surely a woman couldn’t . . .
‘I only say that because of the nice touches.’ Rory looked around. ‘The flower vases and the neat way the victims’ clothes are hung up.’
Jackman looked nonplussed. ‘Clothes?’
‘Look, over to the far wall. See that row of metal lockers? The victims’ clothes are all neatly hung up and labelled. Our killer couldn’t have been more helpful. Not only do we have first names, we have the clothes these poor souls were wearing when they went missing. Some are very fragile, little more than rags, but others are almost new.’ Rory looked around the underground room. ‘The atmosphere and the low temperatures down here have slowed deterioration considerably, but it will take a while to get answers to all your questions, Inspector.’