THEIR LOST DAUGHTERS a gripping crime thriller with a huge twist

by Joy Ellis

  ‘My solicitors and I spent years trying to unravel the complexities of my family’s estate, and some while back I discovered that I owned the property in Admiralty Row. I saw it, liked it, and that was that. I re-housed the tenants and moved in.’

  He sounded so plausible. Marie wished she had Rosie’s ability to read people.

  There was silence as the two police officers wondered how to proceed.

  Marie looked at her notes. Should she throw in a question about the singing? She decided against it. It would be too easy for Broome to lie, and she wasn’t quite ready to play that card just yet.

  Jackman looked fixedly at Broome. ‘Your man out at Windrush, Micah Lee. He seemed rather edgy when we spoke to him. Would you know why?’

  ‘Apparently Micah Lee had an accident when he was small, and it left him with learning difficulties. He is a good, strong, manual worker, but doesn’t have much in the way of academic ability. I felt sorry for him, and the job out at my property has given him something to focus on. And he’s extremely loyal.’

  ‘Where does he live, sir?’

  ‘He lodges at a farm out in Fendyke Village. It’s owned by a potato farmer called Tanner. Micah does some seasonal work for him and I understand that he helps out around the place when he’s not at Windrush.’

  ‘Mr Broome, we need to ascertain your movements around the time when the young woman was abducted,’ Marie said. ‘Where were you on Friday last?’

  Broome was silent for a moment. ‘In the morning I was in my office at home. I do most of my business dealings by phone and internet. And in the afternoon I took my housekeeper to the hospital for an out-patient’s appointment. I dined alone that night as far as I can remember, then I probably made some more phone calls and retired at,’ he rubbed at his clean-shaven chin, ‘around eleven, I should think. All rather vague, I realise, but in general my life is not an exciting one.’

  ‘And Elizabeth Sewell? Has she been with you long?’

  ‘She came to me a week or so after I moved in. She suffers with her nerves. She’s very delicate, but the solitary nature of the job suits her. Plus, she’s an excellent cook.’

  Broome’s responses had been so mundane that, apart from his gambling, he might have been the most humdrum mortal on the planet. But there was something else there.

  Jackman glanced at his watch and brought the interview to a close. ‘It is time for you to get some sleep now, sir, but there will be more questions.’

  ‘Of course, DI Jackman.’ He raised his hands. ‘I am entirely at your disposal.’

  * * *

  ‘Emily has been identified!’ Max almost vaulted over his desk to get to them. ‘She is the Latvian girl, Aija Ozolini. The Latvian interpreter, Janis, took her uncle to the hospital, and he gave us a positive.’

  ‘How’s she doing?’ asked Jackman.

  ‘Not good, boss. Touch and go. She’s still on a ventilator.’

  ‘Well, at least she’s out of that goddamned hellhole.’ Jackman reminded himself to tell young Toni Clarkson about Emily’s rescue.

  ‘And Prof Wilkinson has been on the blower asking you to ring him on his mobile as soon as you can.’

  Max returned to his desk and added, ‘This trace on Broome’s background is driving me mad. Whatever way I approach it, I get a big fat zero. You’d think he was found under a gooseberry bush. It’s like he doesn’t exist!’

  ‘Maybe he doesn’t.’ Marie perched on the corner of Max’s desk. ‘I’m picking up something very odd about that man, and if I were you I’d broaden out your next search.’

  ‘Like how?’ Max asked.

  Marie shrugged and yawned. ‘I don’t know. I just can’t believe he’s the boring well-off man he professes to be.’

  Jackman couldn’t help yawning too. ‘I agree. He’s just too good to be true.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Damn! It’s much too late to go see Micah Lee now. We’ll have to ring Harlan Marsh and set something up for early tomorrow. He might need to have an appropriate adult with him to safeguard his interests. After what Broome told us, I’m not too sure about that man’s mental condition. He could be disabled, and I don’t want to find any of our interviews considered inadmissible.’

  ‘Dead right,’ muttered Marie. ‘I’ll ring Harlan Marsh now and get it sorted.’

  ‘And I’ll ring Rory.’ Jackman picked up his phone and keyed in the pathologist’s number.

  ‘I’ll go above ground and ring you back!’ yelled Rory over a crackling line. ‘We need to talk.’

  Rory sounded out of breath when he called again.

  ‘So what have you got for me?’

  ‘Well, first — and you really don’t need me to tell you this, I’m sure — the length of time between each murder shows the increasing assurance of a serial killer. It seems that his kills were quite rare ten years ago, but now he’s starting to kill more frequently.’

  ‘So hopefully we’ve stopped him before he goes on a spree.’

  ‘Possibly. But don’t forget that you’ve destroyed his precious lair. You won’t exactly be his favourite person. In fact, my friend, he’ll hate you for it, and he could lose control and kill again just to spite you.’

  ‘Unless I can put him away before he has the chance,’ muttered Jackman. ‘So what else have you got?’

  Rory sniffed. ‘It’s a small and very annoying thing. When we documented the clothing, we found that your lone survivor had the wrong shoes. They wouldn’t fit her in a month of Sundays, and they don’t belong to any of the other victims either.’

  Jackman told him they had seen exactly the same thing with Toni Clarkson.

  ‘Ah, my hero! That solves it. I really hate those irritating details. Now for something of much greater significance.’ Rory paused, most likely for dramatic effect. ‘One of my scene-of-crime officers remarked on the amount of equipment in the underground room, and how it would have been impossible to drag it all across the marsh and down the tunnel. I’m suspecting that the owner of Windrush will use the fact that the entrance to the underground burial chamber is on the marsh, which is common land, and hence could have been used by absolutely anyone. Am I right?’

  Jackman told him the point had already been made.

  ‘I thought so. For that reason, I did a close examination of the room, and the wall in particular. It is almost impossible to see with the naked eye, but one wall isn’t plastered quite like the others, and under close scrutiny the faintest outline of a doorway is just visible.’

  Jackman felt a thrill of excitement. ‘So the beds, and everything else were brought in from an entrance located somewhere on the Windrush property itself?’

  ‘Oh I think so. I suggest that the room was all set up, and then the entrance was sealed, either to stop anyone from Windrush stumbling upon it, or else to make it look as though it has nothing to do with the owner. The beds are almost certainly a legacy from the time when the house was used as a sanatorium.’ Rory took a breath. ‘When we hand the scene back to you, I suggest you consult my dear little friend Ted again. Perhaps he could use some of his wonderful equipment and investigate what is on the other side of the wall?’

  ‘I’ll do that, Rory. Believe it or not, he’s still here. He and one of our IT lads are busy transposing all the underground tunnels and old structures into some sort of computerised map of the estate.’

  ‘Excellent! He always liked a challenge. And while you are talking to him, do you think you could you ask him if he knows of a locally-based forensic anthropologist who would be prepared to give us a hand with the oldest skeleton? I’ve got my hands full and I’m pretty sure that lady holds some big secrets.’

  ‘I’ll ask him. And what do you mean, “big secrets?”’

  ‘Well, I can tell you that this is not the first place where that girl was laid to rest.’

  Jackman’s brow drew together. ‘Exhumed? Dug up? Can you expand on that? My mind is throwing up some rather bizarre scenarios right now.’

  ‘Probably no more outl
andish than the truth. This lass was most definitely brought here sometime after her original passing. Don’t ask me how I know, my report will fill you in on that.’

  Jackman let out a long breath. ‘I’ll definitely ask Ted about finding someone to help you with her. As you said, she could be the key to what happened.’

  ‘Well, I’d better get back to my private Hades. I cannot tell you how much work we have to do tonight.’

  ‘How are you going to cope, Rory? There are so many bodies. The morgue is not geared for it, plus your everyday stuff.’

  Rory laughed. ‘I’ll share a secret with you. There is a special facility down in the bowels of the hospital. It’s not widely known about, but it was set up yonks ago to enable the Home Office to handle a major epidemic or a natural disaster. It hasn’t been used for years, not since that heatwave that took so many of our old people. Right now, I’ve got some of my technicians down there getting it powered up and ready to roll. So don’t worry, dear heart, there’s plenty of room for all. Now I must go. We’ll talk later.’

  Jackman ended the call and wondered about that first girl. Had the killer murdered her, buried her, then returned much later and exhumed her body in order to place her in a hospital bed with pretty flowers on the locker? Jackman gave a snort of disbelief, and went in search of Ted Watchman.

  He found the young archaeologist still poring over ancient maps and computer printouts. On hearing about the wall and a possible door in the underground chamber, Ted’s eyes lit up and he said he’d love to investigate it. He told Jackman that one of the university faculty members, Professor Jan Wallace, was a brilliant forensic anthropologist, and he’d ring her first thing in the morning.

  Jackman ordered him to go get some sleep, and then went to look for Marie.

  ‘Harlan Marsh were not particularly helpful,’ she muttered. ‘But hopefully everything will be in place for the morning. They reckon Micah Lee is pretty flaky.’

  ‘Tell us something new.’ Jackman frowned. ‘I really wanted to talk to him tonight, but the bloody Police and Criminal Evidence Act won’t allow it. A load of wrist-binding red tape that we are stuck with.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we’ll see him first thing.’ Marie stifled a yawn.

  Jackman didn’t hide his own yawn. ‘Let’s hope he’s a little more amenable then.’

  Marie grimaced. ‘You’d think he owned the place. I’ve never seen such an angry man.’

  ‘Maybe a night in the cells might make him a tad more helpful.’ Jackman let out a sigh. ‘Let’s go find the others, then get home. What a bloody awful day!’

  They found the whole team gathered in the CID room, all looking grey with fatigue.

  ‘Okay, guys, pack up whatever you’re doing. Our suspects have been tucked up for the night by their custody sergeants, so we can do no more. Go home, all of you.’

  Marie turned to Gary. ‘Ready, flatmate? My guest room awaits you, and so do the meagre contents of the fridge, unless you fancy picking up a microwave meal on our way home?’

  ‘I’ve got some food in a freezer bag in my car, Sarge. I can rustle us up something in half the time it would take to get through the supermarket, even at this time of night.’

  Marie licked her lips. ‘How long did you say you were staying?’ She turned to Jackman. ‘Night, sir. See you in a few hours.’

  He lifted his hand to them, and then made his way slowly to his office. He desperately wanted to get back to his comforting home in the windmill, warm himself beside the Aga and snuggle down in his cosy bed. But he knew he should use the comparative quiet of the night in the police station to think through everything that had happened.

  He closed the door. The air conditioning hummed softly, and distant voices called out from different parts of the building. Compared to the day-time, the office was as peaceful as an empty chapel.

  He sat at his desk, elbows on the polished wood surface, and placed his chin in his cupped hands. He closed his eyes, which stung with tiredness, as if he’d rubbed sand into them. Behind his sore, closed lids he saw the lockers with their little vases of flowers.

  Why had a cold-blooded psycho-killer made time for a gesture so tender? So loving?

  Jackman had a feeling that if he knew the answer to that, he would be right at the heart of what had happened at Windrush.

  He wished they had a profiler. Jackman needed someone to talk to about the killer’s motives, his psyche. But after a bad experience in the past, the super was dead set against psychological profiling.

  Jackman leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. He was getting nowhere. If all he could come up with was vases of flowers, it was time to pull the plug and go home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ‘Sorry, sir. I’ve hit a problem.’ Gary entered Jackman’s office, his expression anxious. ‘You asked me to check the last of those CCTV pictures of Nick Barley with those guys from the drinking club.’

  Jackman looked at him. ‘What did you find?’

  ‘I found nothing, because they’ve disappeared.’ Gary shifted uncomfortably. ‘Well, not exactly. They have been appropriated by Chief Superintendent Cade. When I asked why, I was told that his CID office “had cleared their backlog and were eager to help you out”. It was also made clear to me that as the original girl was probably abducted from the Harlan Marsh area, they’d be more likely than us to recognise any of the men seen talking to young Barley.’

  Jackman’s teeth clamped. Cade had absolutely no right to do that. Not without his say-so. There was now a positive connection between the underage drinking club, the abduction of the girls, and a serial killer, so what the hell was Cade up to?

  ‘Curiouser and curiouser,’ breathed Marie softly, swinging the pool car keys on her finger.

  ‘The bastard!’ Jackman whispered. ‘Hang on here, Marie. I’m going to see the super.’

  Jackman stormed into Ruth Crooke’s office and blurted out the news about Cade taking the CCTV footage.

  ‘I know,’ said the superintendent quietly. ‘And you should calm down, Rowan, because he’s quite right. They’ve been after this gang for months. They have a much better chance than you of identifying them.’ She indicated a chair, but Jackman ignored her and continued to pace the floor.

  ‘There are the correct channels and there is common decency, ma’am. And he’s used neither.’

  ‘Chief Superintendent Cade is only helping you out. He said that he’s very grateful for your assistance, so now you are so busy, he’s returning the favour.’ The super’s eyes narrowed. ‘Now I suggest you accept it as such. You have plenty on your plate right now with twelve young bodies to find identities for, not to mention a killer probably loose in the Fens.’

  ‘Don’t remind me.’ Jackman flopped into the chair and was about to say more when the superintendent’s phone rang. Ruth passed it across the desk to Jackman.

  ‘I’m sorry, Rowan. Aija Ozolini, known as Emily, died a few minutes ago. The officer at the hospital would like to talk to you.’

  Jackman was devastated. After all that Emily had suffered, then to be rescued, only to die anyway. He gritted his teeth to hold back howls of frustration.

  ‘DI Jackman here.’

  ‘Sir, I wanted you to know that Emily did regain consciousness, just for a brief time, but the doctor said that the drugs had done irreparable damage. She had a massive heart attack, and there was no bringing her back.’

  ‘Did she say anything about her captor, Officer?’

  ‘She was speaking in her language, sir, but Janis the interpreter was with us. He said that she was mostly fretting about her family, but she did say something about someone singing to her. Then she got really panicked and started screaming something about eyes. I wrote down exactly what Janis said, sir. It was, “Dead eyes! Oh my God! Get away from me! Please! Don’t look at me!” She didn’t say anything else. Janis did his best to get some sort of description from her, but not long after that her heart gave in.’

  Jackm
an thanked the constable and passed the phone back to Ruth Crooke. His sadness was already giving way to rage. ‘I have to go. I need to tell the troops, even if it’s not the news they wanted to hear.’

  ‘Well, remember, Rowan, you already have two suspects in custody, and one under supervision at the hospital. It’s a better start than we normally get.’

  ‘And my only eye witness has just died. And if our suspects turn out to be innocent, there is a psychopath out there somewhere.’

  * * *

  Jackman gave the team the news of Emily’s death. Their faces fell. They had pinned all their hopes on her.

  ‘What’s your gut feeling about the two suspects, boss?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘None as yet. We’ve only spoken to Broome so far. Micah will need very careful handling.’

  ‘I’m afraid we won’t be talking to him just yet,’ added Marie. ‘I’ve had a message from Harlan Marsh. The FMO has seen him and said that he’s not fit to interview, with or without a responsible adult. They are going to let us know when we can see him.’

  Jackman swore. Today was turning into a nightmare. ‘Then there’s nothing we can do about it. We can try this farmer that Lee lodges with. Tanner, I think his name is.’

  ‘Maybe I could help uniform out with the house-to-house at Roman Creek?’ asked Rosie. ‘They are pretty stretched, and there are more properties out there than I thought.’

  ‘Good idea. Right. This is how things stand so far. Ted Watchman has gone over to Windrush to check out a possible sealed entrance to the underground room. The crime scene isn’t released to us yet. Micah Lee is unfit to interview, and our CCTV footage on the drinking club has been hijacked. Not a great start, but we’ve plenty to get on with.’

  He looked at the team. ‘I suggest that Charlie goes with you, Rosie, to pitch in with the house-to-house, and Marie comes with me. Max? I’d like you to go to Broome’s town residence. Take a couple of uniforms and see what you can find out about the man. Don’t ransack the place, but take a careful look around.’ The memory of all those flowers on the dead girls’ lockers came back to him. ‘And don’t forget to check the annexe where Elizabeth Sewell lives. Oh, and while you’re there, find out who the gardener is.’