THEIR LOST DAUGHTERS a gripping crime thriller with a huge twist

by Joy Ellis

  ‘Who does it belong to?’

  ‘The land belongs to a tenant farmer called Smith, but he says the old van was there long before he took it over.’

  ‘Was anyone in it?’

  ‘They don’t think so, although it’s impossible to say for sure until they can get inside. The farmer is trying to get a tractor and irrigation hose down there, but it’s taking time.’

  Jackman saw their crime scene going up in smoke. ‘Come on, Gary. Even if it is burnt to the ground, we need to see this.’

  ‘Okay, boss. I’ll let them know we are on our way.’

  * * *

  As Gary drove, he had the feeling he had forgotten something important. The others talked and tossed theories around, but Gary remained silent. Things were racing away from him, and he was getting left behind.

  They parked and trudged over the ploughed field. There was little left to see other than a charred wreck of twisted metal and warped panels.

  The fire officer who met them looked grim. ‘I’m afraid it’s not good, sir.’

  ‘Someone died in there?’ Jackman asked.

  ‘No, no bodies. But I did find blood evidence, and from the assortment of paraphernalia inside, it looks like you have a particularly nasty crime scene here.’ He grimaced. ‘What’s left of it.’

  ‘What kind of paraphernalia?’ Marie asked.

  ‘Well, it’s all badly burnt, but there are the remains of leather restraints, and other leather items, a black full-head mask and some other weird stuff. There are chains with ankle and wrist cuffs, all bolted to the base of the caravan. More is showing up all the time, but it’s still smouldering and it’s too dangerous to stay inside for long.’

  ‘I assume that it was started deliberately?’ asked Jackman, his voice slightly shaky.

  ‘Oh yes. We found the remains of a LPG gas bottle with the valve open, and we could tell that an accelerant was used in the bedroom area.’

  So, thought Gary, someone has done a clean-up job. Getting rid of the evidence, and covering up for themselves, or someone else. He stared at the smouldering ashes and smelled the acrid stink of burning rubber.

  ‘It all fits, doesn’t it?’ said Marie. ‘He takes them to the caravan, does whatever he does, then kills them.’ Her face was taut with anger. ‘And then the bastard takes the bodies over the lower marsh path to the entrance to the tunnel, loads them onto the trolley and wheels them down to the Children’s Ward.’

  ‘To sleep forever,’ whispered Gary. ‘Or so he thought.’

  ‘You know what I find worrying?’ said Jackman quietly. ‘That the beast who did all this could be watching, as the last flame consumes his torture chamber.’

  They turned from the burnt-out caravan and walked back to the car. ‘I think we should go up to Windrush and get a report from uniform. We no longer need men combing the area for the second crime scene, so it may be wise to get some extra manpower around the house and the tunnels. Just in case the killer does what the psychologist said, and returns to his lair.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Marie had always loved the marsh evenings. The sky was a breathtaking display of colours and the misty shadows that spread across the water were otherworldly. Even the sounds were peaceful. Bird calls, the rustling of small animals in the undergrowth, and the wind making the tall reeds sway and dance.

  But tonight was different. Every shadow concealed a hidden threat, and Marie sensed something dark and menacing drawing closer in the wind off the sea.

  Jackman and Gary were busy checking the security status with the uniformed sergeant, and Rosie and Max were speaking to some of the foot-soldiers.

  Marie walked across to a low wall that edged the garden. It looked over the wetlands and out to where the marsh met the Wash. She could see dozens of lights and a multitude of police officers silhouetted against the evening sky, all returning from their hunt for the murderer’s killing ground.

  She sat down in the shadow of one of the huge old oak trees that formed a barrier between the garden and the countryside beyond, and wished that this awful case would end.

  More than anything she wished they could identify Fleur.

  Her phone started to play its lilting ringtone. It sounded like falling rain, reminding her of the Welsh hills.

  ‘I just needed to know that you are safe.’

  Her mother’s voice made her smile. ‘Yes, your daughter is safe and well.’

  ‘And I’d like you to stay that way, sweetheart. Is it a bad time to call?’

  ‘It’s fine. There’s no one I’d rather have a call from, believe me.’

  ‘I got the feeling that your difficult case had turned into a nightmare. Am I right?’

  ‘Spot on, Mum. This is one I really need to see the back of.’

  ‘Well, I know you can’t talk about it, but I’m wondering if you’d like me to come and stay for a few days?’

  ‘There is nothing I’d like more, but I’m going to say no, Mum. We are so busy that I’d never see you.’

  ‘Then take great care, and remember that I love you.’

  ‘Don’t I always?’ Marie said. ‘And I love you too.’ She smiled and hung up.

  Marie had very good instincts, good peripheral vision, pretty fair hand-eye coordination, and the ability to make an instant evaluation of a situation and act accordingly. In other words, she was a copper and a motorcyclist. So, when she saw the slightest flash of a reflection in the screen of her mobile as she hung up, she knew that all was not well.

  Jackman was some way away talking to the uniforms, and Gary was leaning on a car and speaking into his mobile. Rosie and Max were over by the house, so she was alone. Or should have been.

  Marie made a sideways dive, hopefully away from whoever was behind her.

  He cannoned into her with all the force of a charging rhino. Her swift movement had unbalanced him, and they both found themselves on the ground at the base of the wall.

  Micah was first up, with surprising speed, and he flung himself back at her, hands outstretched towards her throat.

  She twisted away and rolled onto her side, but he grabbed and held onto her wrist. The grip was a vice locked shut.

  Marie let out a cry, but his other hand went across her mouth and cut it off. She felt her teeth slice into the soft flesh inside her lips and cheek.

  ‘You bitch! You destroyed everything! Now let’s see how your family likes being torn apart.’

  Marie was hardly able to breathe. So I’m going to die, she thought, just like that.

  Then the grip slackened, gradually. The blood rushing through her veins made a roaring sound in her ears. The hand across her mouth began to shake and loosen, and she gasped.

  She choked, fell away from her attacker, and looked up to see Gary wrestling him to the ground and snapping cuffs around his wrists. Micah’s face was a mask of pain and confusion. He rocked backwards and forward and moaned as if in terrible anguish.

  As far as the cuffs would allow, Micah curled up into a tight ball. He dribbled and sobbed, and repeated over and over, ‘Oh no! Please, please, no!’

  Gary hauled him to his feet and called to Jackman to help him. Micah was frog-marched away from her, pushed into the back of a police car and driven away. Jackman insisted that this time he would not go to Harlan Marsh Police Station.

  Marie sat for a moment, getting her breath back, mopping at her bloody mouth with a handkerchief, and trying to make sense of what had just happened. Micah had been intent on killing her, but when Gary had got hold of him he’d dissolved into childlike tears. Hardly the reaction she would have expected.

  ‘Jesus! I think we know who our killer is, don’t you?’ said Jackman. He knelt down beside her and put an arm around her shoulder. ‘Oh, Marie, I’m so sorry. I should have stayed closer. We knew he could be out there somewhere. Are you alright?’

  ‘My fault,’ she croaked. ‘I asked for it. I wandered off.’ She coughed, and it felt like she had hot coals in her gullet.

>   Jackman gently helped her up. ‘I’ll take you straight to A&E.’

  ‘No hospital.’

  ‘You really should get checked over by a medic.’

  ‘Forget it, sir, you are wasting your breath.’ She gave him a pained smile, ‘And believe me, I’ve just realised how precious breath is!’

  ‘You have a lip that makes you look like you’ve overdosed on Botox. You may need stitches in that.’

  ‘I don’t have time, sir. There’s something about all this that isn’t right. All I need is to get back to the CID room where someone can make me a very strong coffee with enough sugar in it to rot every tooth in my head.’

  ‘Has anyone ever told you that you are the most stubborn and obstinate woman . . . ?’

  ‘Yes, sir, you did, last week, and then again a few days before . . .’

  ‘Shut up, Marie, or I’ll get someone to stitch your mouth shut!’

  * * *

  Bill Hickey was behind with his work. With the boss away, things had backed up, especially the paperwork. He had a small office area in a converted store attached to one of the barns, and although it was late, he decided to stay on and check the invoices. Bill was a methodical man, and the heap of unopened mail was bothering him.

  Just as he was throwing the last torn envelope into the bin, he glanced out of the window, and saw a light inside the farmhouse.

  The police had left some while ago, telling him that Micah Lee had been apprehended again. Mr Tanner wasn’t home yet, so who the hell . . . ? Bill jumped up, grabbed his keys from the desk, and ran around the barn and across to the house.

  The front door was unlocked. Bill had checked it himself after the police left, and it had been properly secured then. He frowned, took a deep breath and slipped inside.

  He stood just inside the door and heard sounds coming from the upper floor. It sounded as if the intruder was in Tanner’s room.

  For a moment Bill was undecided what to do. He knew he should call the police, but he was curious to see who it was in the boss’s bedroom. He wasn’t afraid. Bill had done a stint in the army and he still kept himself in good shape. As he moved towards the stairs, he decided to call the police — after he’d got the burglar by the scruff of the neck.

  Bill moved carefully along the landing. He had been right about where the thief was. Tanner’s door stood open, and Bill could see a hunched figure directing a torch beam at a large wooden desk in the far corner of the room.

  Bill was across the floor and had the man in an arm lock before the intruder even realised what was happening.

  He screamed and tried to wriggle away, but he was no match for Bill, who dragged him up and across to the doorway, where he switched on the light.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Bill growled.

  He was staring at the terrified face of a young man.

  ‘I . . . I . . .’ His mouth began to tremble.

  Bill frowned. This wasn’t exactly your usual type of robber. He loosened his grip a little. ‘Okay, what were you after? Money?’ He pointed with his free hand towards the jumble of papers and items on the desk. ‘Because clearly you were looking for something.’

  Again he received no answer. The young man seemed to be fighting back tears.

  Bill’s frown deepened. The intruder had no bag with him, had nothing stuffed into the pockets of his old check jacket, and seemed totally unequipped for a burglary. Then Bill remembered the front door. Unlocked, but not forced.

  He thrust a hand into the jacket pockets, and pulled out an old-style door key. Exactly the same design as the one on his own keyring.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ asked Bill, pushing his captive ahead of him towards the desk. ‘Why have you got a key? And what were you doing with the boss’s things?’ He stopped talking as his eyes fell on the items lying on the desk.

  Credit cards, an open wallet, a Filofax, a signet ring. And a passport?

  As soon as he saw the name “Tanner,” Bill tightened his hold on his captive and picked up the telephone.

  * * *

  ‘It’s Bill Hickey, sir, he’s asking for you.’

  Jackman listened to the hurried message, then said, ‘Stay there. I’ll get some officers over to you straightaway.’ He hung up and looked at the others. ‘That’s the farm manager at Micah’s lodgings. He’s caught an intruder.’ He downed his coffee and grabbed his jacket. ‘Gary, ask uniform if they could get a car over there. But from what Hickey just told me, I think our presence is required as well. Are you up to this, Marie?’

  ‘Two more Paracetamol and I’m good to go,’ Marie rasped.

  * * *

  The intruder sat on the end of the bed with his head bowed. They recognised him immediately.

  ‘Asher Leyton?’ Jackman said incredulously. ‘I think you have a lot of explaining to do, don’t you?’

  Asher slowly looked up at him. His face was a sickly white, his hair unkempt and his eyes red and sore. ‘I’ve nothing to say,’ he whispered.

  ‘Well, I think you have,’ said Jackman. ‘What is your connection with Mr Toby Tanner? And what were you doing with his belongings? Particularly with his passport.’

  Asher shook his head and remained silent.

  ‘Sir?’ Marie was checking the items on the desk with gloved fingers. She lifted up the Filofax and turned the pages. ‘There’s no entry in his diary about travelling abroad, and no mention of tickets or boarding cards or flight information either.’

  Jackman’s gaze travelled from Asher Leyton to Bill Hickey. ‘You said he went to Germany?’

  The big man shrugged and looked puzzled. ‘That’s what he told me. He always made his own arrangements for things like that, so . . . I don’t understand.’

  ‘Perhaps you could explain, Mr Leyton?’ asked Jackman icily. ‘Oh yes, and your lovely fiancée has been to see us. She spoke to Sergeant Evans here. The poor girl is worried sick. I’m sure she’ll be pleased to know that you’re safe.’ He paused, ‘Although I’m not sure she’ll be quite so pleased about the house-breaking charge.’

  Asher sank lower into the chair and stared at his hands, clasped tightly together in his lap. ‘I’ve nothing to say.’

  As Jackman tried to coax him into talking, Marie checked Tanner’s belongings again. There was nothing at all to indicate that he’d gone abroad. She carefully replaced everything in its original position, ready for the SOCOs to bag and tag it, then picked up the gold signet ring. It looked well-worn, so why leave it behind if you were going away? In fact, why take it off at all?’

  ‘Marie?’

  ‘Sorry, sir,’ she muttered, placing the ring back on the desk.

  Jackman beckoned to two uniformed constables who were waiting by the door. ‘Take Mr Leyton to the station, please.’ He shot Asher a cold stare. ‘He might feel more like talking when he sees the accommodation we have on offer. Not exactly Granary Court.’ Jackman turned to Bill Hickey.

  ‘We’ll be closing this room up, and I’ll need you to call at the station to make a statement, sir.’

  Hickey nodded and accompanied the two policemen and Asher Leyton down the stairs.

  Jackman frowned at Marie, then down at the passport. ‘Tanner never went abroad, did he?’

  ‘No. And he disappeared just around the time we made the discovery at Windrush. I think Mr Toby Tanner and Micah Lee were in this together.’

  Jackman looked at her. ‘But what on earth has our little curb-crawler got to do with it?’

  Marie suddenly blinked. ‘Hey! What if they are all members of the drinking club?’

  ‘They could be, couldn’t they?’ Jackman’s eyes widened. ‘And one of the prostitutes down at Dock Street confirmed that Leyton was a regular. Maybe life with his beautiful young WAG isn’t fulfilling enough for our Mr Leyton?’

  ‘So he gets his jollies with old toms and at illegal sex parties.’ Marie smiled, then winced as her split lip opened up again. She dabbed at the bleeding but couldn’t stop the smile.
r />   ‘And Tanner?’ Jackman looked down at the signet ring, his eyes narrowing in thought. ‘I wonder . . .’ He looked at Marie and the light dawned. ‘The dead man. That hanged man was dressed in tough, outdoor clothing, strong boots, had no ID on him and no jewellery. But I did see a pale line around his little finger.’ He pointed to the signet ring. ‘A pinkie ring, maybe?’

  Marie exhaled. ‘Tanner didn’t go to Germany, he bloody killed himself! Either because he couldn’t live with the shame, or . . .’

  ‘Or because he knew what was hidden under Windrush!’ Jackman exclaimed. ‘Time to get back to the station, my friend, but before we go . . .’ He walked to the bedside table, picked up a small alarm clock and dropped it into an evidence bag. ‘I’ll get Rory to cross-check the prints on this with those of the hanged man.’ He looked at Marie. ‘If we get a match, then I’m willing to bet that Tanner contacted his little friend, Asher Leyton, and let it slip that he was planning on topping himself. God knows how Asher knew he’d be at the mill, but I’m sure he’ll tell us in the fullness of time.’

  Marie took one last look around the room. ‘Asher took Tanner’s ID to slow down the identification process. Naming a John Doe can take forever, so I kind of understand that, but why bring them back here?’

  Jackman shrugged. ‘Are we sure he was bringing them back? He might have been looking for something else, and planned on taking everything with him when he left.’ He followed Marie to the door.

  ‘We’ll have this place taken apart if we have to.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  The CID room was emptying out as more officers went home. But Rosie, Max, Charlie and Gary worked on.

  Rosie hung up the phone. ‘The boss’s on his way back. I’ll order the pizzas now, shall I?’

  ‘May as well,’ said Max. ‘Extra cheese and no anchovies for me, please.’ He turned to Gary, ‘How about you, Gazza?’